It was two days before the clouds began to darken from ash to charcoal. Vegeta and Trunks were standing on the outer rim of the Citadel, staring up into the thick and noxious clouds with differing looks of disgust and worry. Goku was feeling nauseous as the clouds rolled in without thinning. He took the time alone to lay in his shared room with Vegeta and think of happier thoughts but could never dredge any up. It was almost as though the imposing clouds were sucking all of the happy memories out of his head.
Piccolo was holed up in his room, hovering off of the floor and meditating. His brow was furrowed and muscles in his face ticked. In the darkness of his mind scenes of battle popped into focus. Frozen images of screaming faces, spattering blood, men doubled in pain. Large beads of sweat had trailed his face and were making small puddles on the floor under his levitating bulk.
The last forty-eight hours were tedious at best, but mostly angstful for all those that were left to wait at Gondor for those that they loved to return. Piccolo was one of them. He was also one of five that were becoming the largest hermits of the city. The others were heart aching women who had their hearts on their sleeves and edges on their tongues; leaving everyone they passed during the daylight hours scathed but sympathetic. Piccolo wasn't exactly lamenting his irritation and loss from the walls by yelling at others and weeping; but for the three that knew him best it was just as obvious as that.
That's why they didn't seek him out when he had holed up in his room nearly twenty hours ago not to been seen yet.
The Namek shook himself from his meditation forcefully, finally coming to complete consciousness with a yell and snap increase of power that shook the citadel walls and tossed rocks from the cliff sides. He stood, leaning out of his window to let the tepid air wash over him and dry the sweat that was positively raining from his face.
He was never this bad about waiting before. He had meditated in the worst conditions the Earth had had to offer him. In the darkest, dankest, deepest caves; in freezing, icy winds of the arctic; in dry and blistering heat of the hottest deserts he had folded himself into the lotus and sat stoic for days on end. If this irritating restlessness and worry was what he was cursed with for feeling than he was starting to regret his change of heart yet again. The first time having been when Gohan had fallen severely ill with the mumps at the age of eleven. He hadn't gotten more than an hour's meditation that week either.
Piccolo pulled himself back into his room and grasped a whole pitcher in one hand, drawing the cool water from it until it ran empty. He decided the best tactic he could take now was a means of distraction. He looked out of his window, searching for one and smirked when the answer was walking below him.
Mirai and Vegeta were walking silently across the clipped granite stones that led between the upper garden and the first major guard station. The air outside of their rooms was no better than the air inside of them. In fact, if the clouds continued to get lower and thicker, they would soon be walking through the darkest layers of fog either had ever witnessed. As it was, lanterns and torches were burning up and down the stairwells and in windows to keep the shadows at bay...and it was only just past noon.
Vegeta was growing steadily bored in the emptiness of the city. Not only was there no way for him to train efficiently, but Kakkarot had absolutely refused to allow him to destroy pieces of the great walls or the mountainside to ease his boredom. The saiyajin third-class was turning out to be a bigger cramp in his side than normal.
A small flicker of humor tickled over the back of his mind where Goku had understood his grumpiness. Vegeta scowled and huffed as he crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't register the confused look his son had shot him.
As they neared the entrance to Piccolo's quarters, Mirai frowned thoughtfully at the closed oak door. He was getting worried for the Namek, but he knew better than to meddle. He hadn't known Piccolo well at all when he had met him before, and the Namek had been long since dead on his home world.
To his surprise, the door was yanked open just as they passed.
Vegeta paused to look over his shoulder, an evil smirk on his face as he eyed the Namek. "Finished weeping into your pillows?"
Piccolo's face pinched into a severe frown and he pulled his door shut a bit harder than he had intended, cracking the mortar and bricks of the frame and pulling the latch clean out of the wooden encasement. He paused to look at the hunk of metal in his hand before dropping it to the stones.
The Namek didn't answer, only fell into step slightly behind them as usual and snorted. "What did you do to make Goku kick you out?"
The saiyajin prince bristled. Mirai tried not to look intrigued, wondering why Vegeta had been so eager to join him on a walk earlier.
"He did not 'kick me out'," Vegeta hissed. They rounded a small bend in the corridor. "He was simply being disagreeable."
Piccolo grinned at the back of Vegeta's spiky-haired head. That added up to many number of scenarios, all of which culminated with Goku kicking the Ouji from their room for some peace. Goku was never disagreable.
It was almost too much for Vegeta's pride to stop outside of the locked door and knock to wait for Goku's answer; and almost too much for Piccolo to keep from laughing. To save himself a beating, the Namek continued past with Mirai in tow as he let out a rumble of laughter.
They exited the hall into the open air, standing on one of the many landings of the thousands of stairs that wound up Gondor's mountainous city. Piccolo curled his nose in distaste at the heavy feel of oil and ash that clung to him.
"How are you doing, Piccolo?"
The Namek looked down at his companion, resisting a smirk as Mirai figeted. "Fine."
"Uh...good," Trunks pushed his hair from his face.
"Spar?"
Mirai blinked, unsure if he had heard the simple question or not, but grinned as he saw the patient look on Piccolo's face as he waited for an answer. The demi-saiyajin smiled and nodded. "Let's go."
They both blasted into the air above the city, bursting through the heavy cloud cover and into the piercing sunlight. They both stopped to squint and adjust. It was truly amazing how heavy and ominous those clouds were once you stood on the other side of them.
After a short moment of adjustment they powered up and grinned. It felt good to be doing something well-known. An easy routine that took concentration and skill. It didn't leave either of them the chance to think about those things that would worry them.
They had been grappling for nearly an hour when a shrill screech spun them around to face the unknown. They stood panting, suspended in the air with their ears trained. Swirling through the sunlight on great spans of wings came three eagles.
The beautiful birds themselves were each the size of Gohan's pet Icarus. Their plumage glinted in the sunbeams, making them ethereal. Their hooked beaks opened and a great trill of noise curled through the air.
The lead eagle turned a large golden eye toward them, tittering softly as though speaking, as it flew quickly to the East with its brethren in tow.
Piccolo and Trunks watched them until they were small specks in the horizon.
"Wow," Mirai breathed.
Piccolo grunted. Wow, indeed. The question that plagued his mind was, what were the birds doing? They weren't evil, that he could feel and the fact that the eagles swept past without attacking helped cement the fact. He might have been able to ignore them if they had flown in any other direction, but they were headed in the direction of Mordor.
As he thought and Mirai remained in awe, the earth below them began to shiver. A second later, the ground shook with a mighty tremble that set rocks and boulders rolling from the mountainside. Smoke spewed into the sky far in the East and Piccolo could swear he heard someone scream far, far in the distance.
Much to their surprise, the clouds that lay thick below them began to thin. Within a matter of moments, the heavy smog began to clear until they could see a haze of Gondor; yet another tick of time and there was no clouds left to be seen.
Goku was soon beside them, though neither noticed how or when. "What's going on guys?"
Trunks blinked at him, slightly surprised to see him. A crooked grin lit on his face. He faced back toward the East and spoke with assurance, "It's over."
The third class cocked his head to the side, eyes round. "How do you know?"
"Just look around you, Goku! Of course it is." The demi smiled, blue eyes vibrant.
Piccolo pondered that a moment. "They'll be here in a day, maybe two depending on how many are injured."
Goku's game face had fallen on. "Then we should do what we can here."
Piccolo smirked at him. "I'll talk to Faramir and the remaining Healers to get the rooms ready."
He didn't wait for much else, headed directly for the citadel walls. He found Lord Faramir with the Lady Eowyn, both of them leaning against the outer wall and staring in awe into the brilliant blue sky.
"Faramir!" Piccolo called as he landed, walking quickly toward him. All the more easier with his long stride.
The youngest steward startled and spun away from Eowyn, his back tight in defense. He breathed lightly and relaxed as he recognized Piccolo. "Is there a reason you've decided to test the strength of my heart?"
Piccolo didn't comment on the man's joke, he instead looked between the two of them with a stern face and spoke softly. "There's been a change in the tide. Those that have gone off to war are coming back and a lot of them will be hurt. I need your help to get everyone that's stayed behind to set up rooms."
Faramir nodded, acknowledging the responsibility. The Lady Eowyn stepped forward, "They're returning?"
"We believe they are."
She nodded, "We'll do what we can." She turned to Faramir and took his hand in hers, pulling him along behind her as she started for the entrance into the Halls of Healing.
Piccolo stared out into the horizon for a long five minutes. Goku was standing patiently beside him when he finally turned. The saiyajin gave him a lopsided grin, "Ready?"
"Ready for what?" Piccolo frowned.
"To help them!" Goku smiled again, stepping up onto the ledge of the building. "We might be able to bring a few of the worse people back faster."
"Vegeta and Trunks?"
"They're coming too." Goku motioned behind him and Piccolo saw father and son waiting.
He nodded and stepped off into the air. The four of them quickly left Gondor behind them in a tizzy of cleaning women and medics grinding herbs and boiling water.
The acrid smell of the air was still lingering in the air closer to Mordor. The clouds seemed to still center over the mountain like a volcano in reverse. Instead of spewing the ash, it was sucking it slowly back in.
It had taken twenty minutes of hard flight before they saw the dust of the traveling troops in the distance. They were moving steadily, but not quickly. A sure sign of their casualties.
Of all the men and the elves with sharp eyes, it was two exhausted and bloodied Hobbits that saw them first.
Pippin sat before Eomer, limbs deadened from battle and head practically bobbing around on his neck as he fought off sleep. Beside him, sitting in front of Aragorn, rode Merry. Pippin tried to turn his head and start a conversation with his cousin, anything to stave off the sleep, but didn't even have the energy to do that.
The sunshine on his face was welcome. It added to his daze and his body's desire for sleep, but his heart and mind were not in it. He was afraid to close his eyes, fearing that if he did the only thing he would find would be the horror's of war played over and over behind his lids.
So he forced his eyes to stay open and he stared around him wherever his head would point them. First at the back of the horse's head, then to Aragorn and Merry, then the skies and all points in between. His head had just fallen back onto Eomer's chest and his eyes were harder to hold open than before, but four dots in the sky made him blink them open again.
He steadied his head and stared up at them. As a slow smile split his face he turned to Merry and poked him with the point of his sword hilt. "Merry!"
The Hobbit grunted, just dozing and turned bleary eyes to his cousin. "What is it Pip, I was nearly asleep you know?"
"There Merry, look!" Pippin pointed up into the sky.
Both Hobbits stared after the points and smiled happily, chittering quickly back and forth. They had only just gotten Aragorn and Eomer's attention when the aliens came into focus.
"What are you two so happy about?" Aragorn smiled gently down at them.
"They're coming, Strider, look!" Pippin pointed happily again.
The Ranger looked up, a grim smile on his face as he watched the four of them slow to land several yards in front of them.
The lead horses slowed, intending to stop, but the Ningen Aliens stepped from the way and moved along side. Vegeta and Trunks took to the air again, keeping pace with the troops but flying several feet off of the ground. Goku and Piccolo ran beside Eomer and Aragorn.
"We came to help," Goku beamed.
"The war is already over," Aragorn looked slightly confused.
Goku laughed, catching the attention of several riders behind and the word of them spread slowly toward the back. "Not with the fight. We figured there would be people that needed help, we thought we could lift them into the city."
Aragorn nodded, "I appreciate the offer, but I most of the men have been bound and secured." His face hardened, "We've lost many."
Goku frowned in sympathy. "I figured as much." Then he added as an afterthought, "I'm sorry."
Aragorn waved at him dismissively but allowed a small grateful smile at the saiyajin's sentiment. "It was expected, no matter how much I wish it weren't true."
Silence fell around them but for the steady clomping of feet and the chittering of men at the back of them. News had spread to the middle of the entourage where Legolas, Gimli and the twins rode amongst the men that led the wounded. Elrond's sons were magnificent healers--especially compared to clumsy warriors-- thanks to their father's skill and were often called upon by the few medics that had traveled with them.
When the twins caught sight of Trunks flying above them, they both grinned and pointed happily. Legolas recognized both saiyajins and scoured the air for Piccolo, feeling slightly panicked that he did not catch sight of him--thinking the worst had happened in the fight against Freeza. He relaxed greatly, much to Gimli's vocal amusement, when talk of strangers running among the horses at the front finally made it to them.
Gimli could tell that the elf wanted to dart off, just to see with his own eyes--and possibly feel with his own lips, he admitted to himself with a chortle--and he prodded the regal elf with his stubby fingers.
"Well, what are you waiting for lad?"
Legolas had the gall to look confused, "What do you mean, Gimli?"
The dwarf snorted and rolled his eyes, "Go to the front and see your Namek," he grinned at the slight smile that tilted the elf's lips.
"Yes, of course," chimed Elladan, "He's bound to be up there."
"Oh, yes, yes, I think I see him," grinned Elrohir, pointed aimlessly into the crowd.
Much to their amusement, Legolas peered around the bodies in front of him with a careful eye. The elf prince frowned a moment later and scowled at them, knowing he had been made a fool.
"I hope you are proud of yourselves," Legolas bemoaned, "nearly crippling an old elf's heart."
The others laughed heavily, the tinkling sound of the elves and the pulsing bass of the dwarf's creating an odd symphony to the ears of the men around them.
The laughter stopped as a great shadow flew across them. The large eagles were flying back toward the west, trilling loudly as they soared past. The elves glanced about the birds' feet and were hard pressed to tell if they were more relieved or worried to see the limp bundles the bird's carried in their claws.
Trunks and Piccolo both recognized the great tawny birds, and their interest in them piqued as the birds blew past them headed toward Gondor's great bulk far in the horizon. The Namek shot Goku a look before he lept into the clouds and paused midair until Vegeta and Trunks trailed past him.
He didn't notice the happily probing eyes below him.
"There they go again," Mirai muttered, curiosity creasing his face.
"Did you see what they were carrying?" Piccolo questioned in his monotone voice.
Trunks shook his head and Piccolo grunted. "Do you still have the pouch of beans?"
Mirai patted his pockets, knowing he had put them somewhere. His face soured as a more thorough search ensued that turned up nothing but pocket lint. "I don't have them on me."
Piccolo frowned and blasted forward ahead of them. Mirai was partly startled but called after him anyway, "Why? What's wrong? Piccolo? Piccolo!" But the Namek was ignoring him, too busy trying to catch the amazingly agile fowl.
Below, among the hundreds of men that ambled slowly toward their destination, two identical elves turned inquisitive eyes to their blonde companion. The fair elf shrugged his shoulders elegantly and tried not to look put off. "He's gone to help Frodo."
Bulma was tired and filthy. Not to mention, highly irritated. She vowed never to even look at a horse again, much less try to ride one by herself. The fact that the present company she kept were amazingly agile on the hoofed beasts didn't save her dignity any.
"Exactly what are we doing again?" She asked irritably to the dark-shrouded figure that rode on a sable horse in front of her.
Lord Elrond turned his head slightly, a slight smile curling the edges of his lips. "We are riding to Gondor."
Bulma huffed, then let out an 'eek' as the horse below her-- that found her just as irritating as she found it-- tried to sidestep into a nearby branch. She managed to duck below it and mutter several choice phrases before glaring at the back of Elrond's head again. "And why are we going to Gondor?"
This time, the elf didn't bother to look at her to answer. "Because the war is over."
"Then why are we--"
"Lady Bulma, if you insist on asking the same questions repeatedly throughout this whole trip, I promise you, you will do so bound and gagged." Elrond spoke sternly, still facing away from her to keep the amused smirk on his face from being seen.
The senschal, Glorfindel, rode in front of the whole entourage to keep a watchful eye out for remaining orc troops and other nasties but was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his mind clear of intrusive thoughts that stole away his concentration.
When Bulma opened her mouth to speak again, the large, blonde elf spun on his steed and quickly produced a length of rope while urging the horse toward her. The woman let out a surprised squeak and clamped her mouth shut. Glorfindel narrowed his eyes and set his impressive jaw, Bulma quickly looked away.
Satisfied, he turned and began to search the trees again in the new silence.
"Llya noa an nut i inya?" Elrond spoke quietly a moment later with a hint of laughter in his voice.
The tall blonde elf didn't bother to turn, but continued his delicate search as he spoke, "An Quent kaano lle."
A battle of wills not to laugh at the serious timber of Glorfindel's voice nearly robed Elrond the ability to ride sitting up straight. Bulma was scowling at the both of them and he knew it, but she had yet to speak to them. It made holding in his mirth all the worse.
Llya noa an nut i inya You think to tie the woman
An Quent kaano lle At your word commander
