Gandalf was striding through the Halls of Healing toward the far gardens when Piccolo landed with a blast in the softened dirt that made a circle of dust five feet in diameter. The wizard held an arm up to cover his face from the assault and spared a quick nod to the alien before he began stalking around the carefully lain rows.
"Where are they?"
Gandalf glanced up from his search among the foliage to see Piccolo nearly twitching in impatience. He thought to toy with him but thought better of it. "They are in the Halls of Healing. I don't have much time to explain."
Piccolo nodded and strode away toward the entrance doors without looking back. The aged wizard shook his shaggy head as he continued to search. That was one thing he had grown to like about the giant creature--he didn't have the pension to ask questions when they were not prudent.
He found what he was looking for growing beneath several large heads of purple blossoms. He quickly hooked his fingers around the thick stem and pulled the plant free from the soil by the roots.
He shook the dirt free from the plant as he quickly walked back toward the entranceway, looking skeptically at the small plant and hoping it would do. He passed a medic in the hallway and haulted the man with his staff. "Take this, dry it over an open flame." The man dutifully took them and began to scurry away when Gandalf called to him in warning. "Do it quickly, and do not burn it!"
The wizard began his steady tapping down the hall toward the far chambers and heard a slight ruckus from within.
"Please, you need to leave!"
There had been no response coming forth but a low growl of annoyance. The wizard quickly turned into the room to see two healers and an aid trying to push and prod the Namek out of Samwise Gamgee's and Frodo Baggins' current room.
One of the medics was feeling quite important--or perhaps foolish--and stepped directly into Piccolo's space and began to poke the alien in the chest with his finger. "You have no business here! Get out before we have you thrown into the dungeons!"
Gandalf snorted in the doorway and pushed past all of them. When the healers turned to him for help he pointed at the two Hobbits that lay dying on opposite beds. "Stop bickering you fools!"
The aid quickly went to Gandalf to assist him, while one of the healers hesitatingly walked off toward Sam. The man that was prodding Piccolo continued to glare up at him until Piccolo tensed as Frodo groaned loudly in his bed.
He grabbed the short man by the front of his robes and hauled him off of the ground so that he was eye level. "If he dies because you didn't help him, I'll rip the limbs off of your body," he hissed.
The man's face paled and when Piccolo set him back onto his feet the man nearly puddled to the ground. He pulled himself together to glare up at Piccolo, but walked quickly toward Frodo's bedside.
The Namek stood in the corner of the room and watched the bustle of people as they stripped the filthy clothes off of the Hobbits and began to clean their wounds. He frowned as they fussed over Frodo. The young Hobbit looked as though he had dropped twenty pounds, his skin was stretched tightly across his ribs and shoulders. What worried him --and consequently the healers as well-- was the missing finger on the boy's left hand. It was quite apparent that he had lost a great amount of blood.
The boy moaned pitifully though he remained mostly unconscious. A knot twisted in Piccolo's stomach at the whimpering and he couldn't handle standing idly by. With a sharp turn on his heel, he stalked from the room and headed toward Trunks' chambers.
He was happy to notice that the others that remained were busy making preparations for the warriors' return home. He passed by his room, snorting at the busted jam, and finally into the hallway that led to the three saiyajin's rooms.
Piccolo counted in his head, his long stride taking him past rooms swiftly. He shouldered open Trunks' door and stood still in the entry just gazing around the space, trying to think of where the small bag of beans would be.
A compact stand with two drawers sat beside the bed, a heavy bureau underneath the windows, and whatever drawers would be in the connected room to the far right. Piccolo tried the small stand first, yanking the top drawer open with a flourish that pulled the shelf completely free and dumped the contents onto the floor. He dropped to his knees and pawed through the mess with his hands.
The small brown pouch peeked out at him from underneath a badly folded t-shirt. He grinned as he plucked it from the mound, but frowned as he turned it upside down in his hand. It was empty.
He was sure there had been more beans in the bag; he would have bet his left antenna on it. He crumpled the small sack in his fist and stood from the mess, walking back toward the Halls of Healing.
Gandalf was spouting orders to the medics as he approached. Piccolo stopped in the entry, leaning heavily against the jam and watching the slight rise and fall of the two Hobbits' chests. They both looked frail and sick.
Gandalf pinched the bridge of his nose and turned tiredly away from the beds for a moment. The medics were working ceaselessly, and where was his atheleas!
He noticed Piccolo then, standing dejectedly in the doorway. He had taken note when the alien had gone, but didn't spare him another thought until he had returned just as suddenly. Gandalf caught his gaze and Piccolo nodded sharply to him before spinning out of the doorway. Something fluttered from his hand as his fists opened.
Gandalf walked to the entry, looking out and watching Piccolo disappear into the gardens. He bent and retrieved the pouch that had fallen from Piccolo's fingers. He frowned at it, poking a crooked finger into it, then pocketed it. Whatever the Namek had hoped to find hadn't been there, but perhaps he could find something to put into it for him.
Piccolo had returned to the gardens to brood. It was something he was good at, and it at least would pass the time. He focused on Vegeta and Goku's ki, feeling them come closer by miniscule amounts. The great procession of men was moving very slowly. He would have thought that men returning home from war would rather run their horses ragged to get back. There were women and children here waiting from them to step back in through the gates.
An odd thought crossed Piccolo's mind and he snorted. He hadn't even looked for Legolas in the crowds of warriors. His attention had been caught by the great golden eagles and away he went without a care
in the world. Well, that wasn't really true. He was actually too burdened to pay better attention.
He silently hoped that Legolas wouldn't begrudge him for it. Somehow, he doubted he would.
"May I join you?"
Piccolo cracked open one eye to see Faramir already sitting down on a narrow bench beside him. "Would it have made a difference if I said no?"
The young man grinned, "No."
Piccolo snorted and let him be. Besides, if all else failed to distract him, he could pick on the young lord.
---
It had taken a whole day after the arrival of Goku, and Vegeta and son, before the troops could be seen from the outer battlements. A great cry rose up from the wall as first one person and then another saw the cloud of dust in the distance. Last minute preparations were started and extra beds were quickly made in the infirmary.
Goku and Vegeta landed ahead of the crew, faces grim with business as they relayed the number of wounded to the healers and conveyed the orders from their new king. The dead and dying would be arriving within the next hour.
Goku was exhausted. He wasn't sure why it was exactly but it didn't matter about the why's at the moment, only that he wanted to collapse onto a bed and sleep for the next several hours. Vegeta didn't look nearly as haggard as he did, but he could still see weary lines around the prince's mouth as he frowned at the overly-white walls.
"Hey," a familiar gravely voice called softly to them from the end of the hall. Piccolo's angular face was turned to them but hidden in the shadow of a half shut door.
"Well, hey, Piccolo," Goku chirruped, walking toward him. He carefully checked the level of his voice before he spoke again. Piccolo had given him a look so startlingly close to ChiChi's reprimanding look that he almost apologized to his wife out loud. The large saiyajin stopped beside his friend and peeked carefully inside the sterile room. He nodded in acknowledgment as he whispered, "How are they?"
"Stable," Piccolo sighed softly, "they haven't gotten any better, but they haven't gotten any worse. I'm not sure if we should be thankful or not."
Vegeta irritably pushed between the two of them to look, frustrated that the two tallest beings he knew were blocking his view. The two Hobbits lay on the white linen, their skin so pale it blended with the sheets. A wave of melancholy washed over him, though it did not show on his face.
A warm hand settled on the back of his neck and he leaned imperceptibly into Goku's touch. He snorted softly. The damned third class was learning to use his newfound abilities quite well.
"I'm tired, Kakkarot," He mumbled.
"Me too," Goku admitted, tightening his fingers a fraction into an affectionate squeeze.
"You two go to bed. Your rooms haven't been changed. I'll get you up if something happens." Piccolo assured them, his eyes never leaving the room in front of him.
"Sure, Piccolo," Goku smiled, "thanks."
The two saiyajins made their way from the Halls of Healing and found their room in a slight daze. Goku stumbled into the room and fell across the bed with a large yawn. "Why are we so tired, 'Geta?"
Vegeta ignored the inelegant way his mate had plopped across the mattress and wearily pulled off his boots while sitting on the edge. "I think we've been pushing the boundaries of the bond too quickly."
Startled into wakefulness, Goku sat up. "What do you mean?"
"Relax, Kakkarot. All I meant was that our testing what we can and cannot do before the bond is cemented is taking its toll. Granted, you've made progress, but all forms of training require that you have to recuperate." Vegeta sighed in satisfaction as his remaining boot finally relinquished its hold and fell to the floor.
"Oh," Goku yawned again, falling back onto the bed and grinning to himself as Vegeta grumbled in annoyance.
Finally, Vegeta lay beside him and closed his eyes in exhaustion. A set of smooth warm lips covered his and though he was loathe to push Kakkarot away, he was too tired to be of much fun if the damned third class felt like playing. Vegeta nearly snorted at the thought, how old was he getting to prefer a nap over a quick fling?
The lips retreated and a heavy arm slung across his stomach, pulling him into the middle of the bed.
"Kakkarot," he started without opening his eyes, "I will not do anything in this bed at this moment other than sleep."
A light laugh came from the chest pressed against his ear. "I don't want to do anything else either, Vegeta." The arm tightened and within his mind Vegeta felt Kakkarot's thoughts brush against him, I just want you close.
A nicely contented feeling spread across Vegeta's chest and he mindlessly turned in Goku's hold until he was tucked neatly under his chin. "Go to sleep, Kakkarot," he mumbled into the broad chest in front of him. He needn't have bothered since a soft snore soon followed. He smirked and curled a fist into the fabric of Goku's tunic before he too fell asleep.
---
Trunks and the twin sons of Elrond climbed the stairs together. The two elves were leading the wounded soldiers up the steps, those that were too hurt to walk themselves were on the ground where ready medics had already prepared great vats of boiling water and healing herbs.
"Neither of you are hurt right?" Mirai asked, glancing to either side of him.
The twins looked at each other over his head, "No," they spoke in unison.
Mirai frowned in confusion, "Right..."
Since they had met at the gates, both twins had spoken barely a whole sentence to the demi-saiyajin. Trunks was getting a little irritated with the whole ordeal. Normally the two of them would scheme and chirp to each other in Elfish nonstop. And not to sound egotistical, but they were relatively alone climbing the citadel stairs and neither one had bothered to try and accost him yet.
"You're sure that you're okay?" He tried again.
The twins shook their heads and smiled weakly. "We are not injured, Mirai," Elladan reassured him.
"Besides a few bruises and scrapes, we are whole and entire," Elrohir affirmed.
"Hn." Mirai growled softly to himself and sped up. They were keeping something from him. His father's temper was starting to get the better of him, he could feel it churning in his stomach and clench his fists. If they didn't want to tell him what was wrong, fine. If they wanted to pretend that everything was fantastic, so be it. But they could play make-believe without him. He was far too old and far too jaded to play with them.
The twins paused in surprise when the demi-saiyajin let out a short grunt and jetted off of the stairs and flew to the top of the city without them.
Elladan glanced at his brother and sighed softly, "This is not going so well."
Elrohir shook his head and winced as Trunks landed with a bang at the top of the city. "No, I'm afraid it is not."
---
Mirai found Piccolo in the Halls of Healing. He had aimlessly followed the other's ki while he was fuming. He sidled up behind the Namek and scowled into the room. His anger fizzled away steadily as he registered the Hobbits.
"How are they," he asked softly.
Piccolo shook his head, "Not well."
"I'm sorry." Mirai sighed and leaned into the doorjamb. "Have you been standing here all day?"
"Yes."
The demi was surprised. It was hard to imagine the large Namek hovering like a mother hen.
Medics moved past them without bothering to make them move. Trunks grinned to himself, he knew that Piccolo must be a permanent fixture in the Hobbits' room for the others to step around him so easily. It was rather sad as well, how badly must Frodo and Sam be doing for Piccolo to stand here for hours on end?
"Have you seen Legolas?" Piccolo questioned.
Trunks thought for a moment then shook his head, "Not recently. I saw him with the twins when we first entered the city, but I think he stayed with the wounded to help Aragorn."
Piccolo nodded and turned in the doorway. "Would you stay here? I need some fresh air."
Trunks grinned. "Sure."
He watched Piccolo walk to the end of the hall before leaping down the jagged face of the city. He was bound for the main entrance and Legolas, Mirai knew. Gandalf found Trunks leaning in Piccolo's spot five minutes later.
"Good afternoon, young Saiyajin."
"Gandalf," Mirai nodded.
"Where is our Namek?" Gandalf smiled softly, "He has been a statue in that spot for the past two days."
Mirai nodded, "This is where I found him. He said he needed some fresh air, you just missed him."
"That is quite all right, he needed to leave this place. It is only serving to depress him."
Gandalf entered the room and bent over Frodo's prone form. He motioned Trunks in. "You can sit here if you'd like. Piccolo seems to have a pension for the theatrical and refused to sit."
Trunks sat gingerly on the edge of the seat and looked at the pale faces. "Have they gotten any better?"
"Some," Gandalf sighed deeply, his voice lined in regret. "But there is nothing more I can do for them."
The wizard stood and shook out his robes. He smiled sadly down at the Hobbits and brushed stray hair from both of their foreheads before he walked quietly to the door. "You are welcome to stay and sit with them. They have not woken yet, perhaps you will be lucky enough to see their eyes again."
The pristine white robes fluttered at his ankles and with a whisper of cloth, the man was gone. Mirai stood from the chair and walked around the beds, gently touching first one Hobbit's cheek and then the other. They were so much more innocent in their deep sleep. It was wrong, evil even, that they had to suffer.
"If they have to die," Mirai whispered to a God he didn't think existed, "then take them now. Don't make them suffer."
Frodo whimpered softly in his sleep and Trunks lay the back of his hand across the Hobbit's fevered forehead. With a slight grunt, the demi gathered his ki into his palm and pressed it gently to the boy's temple. It was absorbed slowly, like the sucking of molasses through a straw. The small bulb was gone a minute later and Mirai felt the boy's forehead again. The temperature was still high, but a rosy color had returned to Frodo's cheeks.
"Have better dreams, Frodo Baggins," Trunks muttered, brushing his fingers through the unruly curls on the boy's head.
He copied the trick with Samwise and smiled as the Hobbit's eyelids fluttered slightly. They did not open, but Mirai was happy none-the-less. He returned to his chair and watched them both, his troubles seeming small and petty. He would tell Piccolo of his success when the Namek returned.
---
Legolas was tired and dirtied in blood. Aragorn was nearly dead on his feet, but some force kept the ranger plodding through the injured warriors. An endless line of half-dead soldiers were demanding attention from any medic who would listen.
A never ending supply of atheleas leaves were coming from somewhere and Strider's hands were covered in the ashy mud from the dried leaves. He smeared it across cheeks, bound shallow wounds with it, and crumpled it over steaming water. Perhaps it was the earthy smell of the atheleas tea in the air that kept them with enough energy to help all those that needed it.
"Gimli, hand me that strip of binding," Legolas called, pressing a folded cloth tightly over a wounded soldier's leg. The dwarf hurried over with the strip of cloth and yawned wide.
"I don't know how ye both keep up," the dwarf grudgingly admitted. "I could lay here in the street and hear naught for a fortnight."
Legolas gave him a weary smile and tied off the bandage before moving off to the next body in line. "It has to be done, Gimli. No one else is fit enough to help. Everyone who is is already here."
The faces of men blended together until there was only the same scruffy, grim-lined face over and over. Each wound was cleaned to the best of the ability and the supply of clean water would allow. A long time later, Legolas stood and clutched at his aching lower back. His lithe elfish body was screaming for the sleep he had not gotten for days.
"Ye need to rest," Gimli called over to him, helping a medic hold down a soldier while they removed a large chunk of splintered staff from his thigh.
Legolas waved him off and turned the next soldier. A simple splint and sling on a fractured arm and he was straightening again with a groan. Thick fingers ground into the muscles of his lower back and Legolas was too relieved to jump at the intrusion into his personal space. He leaned inelegantly onto a broken piece of wall and let the strong hands knead at his aching muscles.
"Gimli, if all dwarves have half your ability, your kind should stop mining and become healers," Legolas grunted appreciatively.
The dwarf's smirking face popped up beside him, "Thank ye, lad, I've been doing my best."
Legolas paused in his euphoria to notice that Gimli was leaning against the wall next to him, his hands busy stuffing his pipe. The elf stiffened in realization and was about to spin around but a heavy body pinned him to the wall. A low, gruff voice spoke to him in admonishing tones, "Now you've undone my hard work."
The elf let out a breathy laugh and molded back onto the cracked wall and let Piccolo work the kinks out of his back. Thick fingers worked up his back and across his shoulders, ending by tangling in his hair and stretching his neck.
"Better?" Piccolo stepped away and leaned against the wall next to the elf.
Legolas nodded his head, feeling even more the need to lie down to sleep. He smiled tiredly up at the Namek and thought the alien had never looked so good. "I believe I could use a long night's sleep."
Piccolo frowned and looked the Mirkwood Prince over. "When is the last time you slept?"
He was going to lie, but as soon as he opened his mouth, Piccolo gave him a serious stare and Legolas relented. "Four, nearly five days."
"Then you should go to your rooms and rest," a hoarse voice spoke.
Aragorn walked slowly toward them, looking three days dead. He stopped in front of them with a pained look that spoke volumes of his weariness. "Go on, Legolas, you should not chance your own good health by pressing your luck."
Legolas frowned at the Gondorian king, "Only when you retire, Estel. You need the sleep more than I."
The man smiled, "I am on my way up to the Halls of Healing, there is nothing left here for me tonight, but there are still two that need my attention there."
"Then I will come with you," Legolas said stubbornly.
"You're going to see Frodo and Sam?" Piccolo stepped in, ears perking up.
"Yes, I have not seen them and Gandalf tells me they are not doing well."
Legolas glanced up at Piccolo to see if it were true and frowned when the Namek nodded. "Do you want a lift to the top?"
Aragorn looked taken aback, "What do you mean?"
"You're exhausted and there are thousands of stairs. Come on," He held out an arm and took tight hold of the Gondorian king by looping it under his shoulders. Aragorn looked uncomfortable but Piccolo ignored it. He looked over to the others, Legolas was suppressing a grin and Gimli would not meet his eyes. "I'll be right back," he promised before leaping into the air with a clinging king grabbing at his tunic.
The fly was short, but by the time Piccolo landed, Aragorn looked slightly green. "Sorry," he mumbled as he set the man on his feet. "I'll return here with the others, I think you'd better hurry."
Aragorn nodded once and shook himself to get moving. Piccolo watched him enter the hall before he returned to the base of the city.
Legolas and Gimli had been joined by Merry and Pippin in the short time Piccolo was away. The Hobbits blinked sleepily and grinned lazily at him. "Hullo, Piccolo."
Piccolo smirked, "Hello, Pippin."
"How did Aragorn fair?" Legolas asked in curiosity.
"Well, enough," Piccolo admitted.
"What did Strider do?" Merry asked, looking between the others in confusion.
"The Namek flew him to the Citadel," Gimli explained, a wide grin on his face as he pictured Aragorn's shocked face again.
The two Hobbit's eyes widened into saucers. "He got to fly? We haven't!" Pippin cried indignantly. "You even said I could!"
Piccolo refrained from rolling his eyes and instead scooted to his level. "And if I take you now?"
Pippin squealed, already clutching the Namek by the neck by the time Merry stood up. Merry was far more polite about it than his cousin and asked for permission to clamber up before he attached himself.
Piccolo stood with the two Hobbits swaying and laughing uproariously. The Namek scowled and looked at each of them the best he could, "Listen to me." Immediately, the childish giggles stopped. "I'm taking you to see Frodo and Sam but you have to be quiet. They aren't doing so well, understand?"
"Yes," they nodded sagely, looking alarmed.
"If the medics or Aragorn ask you to leave, you leave, is that understood?"
"Yes," they said again more sternly. Piccolo nodded and looked apologetically at Legolas before he took off again.
True to their word, neither Hobbit let out so much as a giggle on the way up. Piccolo set them both on the ground but didn't let them go immediately. "I'm glad you are both okay," he told them, smiling a little as they both blushed lightly. He released them and watched as they walked calmly into the hall. They had both grown a great deal since the beginning of the adventure.
The final trip up brought Legolas and Gimli, though when Piccolo landed this time he was loathe to let Legolas go. The elf seemed to notice and clung just a second longer before he let go. Piccolo growled softly, trailing after him into the hall. He had seen the Hobbits longer than any of the others so he remained in the corridor while the others took turns checking on the young heroes.
Mirai walked quietly out into the hall as Merry and Pippin went in. He reclined against the wall next to Piccolo and rubbed tiredly at his face. "Aragorn's treating them right now, hopefully they will be better in a few days."
Piccolo nodded.
"I fed them some of my energy earlier," Trunks admitted, not quite able to look Piccolo in the face. "They took it slowly, but they seem a little better because of it."
When he hazarded to look, Piccolo was staring at him with intensity. "Thank you," he said softly in his gravely voice. Mirai felt his face heat lightly and he looked away.
"Sure, no problem."
Legolas looked between the two of them, his crystalline eyes dancing. "Where are the sons of Elrond, young prince?"
Mirai's shoulders stiffened and the light color that had touched his cheeks fled it just as quickly as it had come. "I don't know."
Piccolo and Legolas shared a confused look. "I thought you walked up with them..." Legolas said softly, hoping he wasn't setting fire to dry reeds.
"I did," Trunks spat. He fisted his hair and turned his head sharply toward the elf with a heated glare, "Can we drop it?"
"Of course, forgive me." Legolas soothed.
As though fate were tempting the young saiyajin's mettle, the twin elves took that moment to make an appearance. Trunks stiffened but still nodded curtly when the two of them spoke their hello's.
"May we speak to you, Mirai?" Elrohir asked, looking imploringly to the exit that led to the gardens.
Trunks nodded stiffly and stalked to the exit, leaving the twins looking guilty as they followed behind.
"What's that about?" Gimli wondered aloud, standing in the entry to Frodo and Sam's room.
Piccolo lifted one shoulder. The demi was irritated when he first saw him little under an hour ago. If Trunks wanted to tell him about it, fine, if not he wasn't about to pry for answers.
The three of them stood awkwardly in the hall for a long minute before Merry and Pippin came out. Pippin walked across the hall in a daze and slumped against Piccolo's hip for support. Merry sat on the floor beside his cousin.
Legolas quietly excused himself and went into the room, leaving Piccolo to tend to the alarmed Hobbits.
"They look so small in those beds," Merry mumbled to himself.
Pippin's eyes were overly wet and Piccolo was afraid he was going to cry. He hated crying things; be it children, women, or any other living thing. He never knew what to do with them, those soggy, hiccoughing people.
The Hobbit didn't cry though, only clutched one small fist into the hem of Piccolo's tunic and leaned heavily against his legs.
Piccolo slid slowly down the wall and sat with his legs tucked underneath him. As though he had been pulled by some force, Pippin immediately sat down on his lap and snuggled tightly into the crook of Piccolo's arm. The Namek looked down at the curly head and sighed softly, after all Pippin had seen he was still the shaken and innocent Hobbit from months ago.
There was a shaky breath from Merry and Piccolo slowly turned his head to look at the eldest Hobbit. Merry had clutched his hands together to keep them from shaking.
"Hey," Piccolo nudged him lightly with his elbow. Merry blinked wide eyes at him. "Come here," Piccolo nodded to his lap and Merry carefully climbed across from his cousin and burrowed. He could feel the slight tremors that shook the two Hobbits.
Suddenly, Pippin's voice cut the silence as he softly started to sing. A moment later Merry joined him. Piccolo listened to the sweetly, sad song and huddled the two of them closer in a loose embrace.
A gruff, hoarse voice joined in from within the room across from them, and both of the Hobbits were up and across the hall in a second. Piccolo followed after them and stopped dead in the entryway.
Samwise Gamgee was struggling to sit up in his bed, being aided by Aragorn, singing with what little breath was in him.
---
Outside in the gardens, Mirai Trunks was clutching at the outer rim wall with both hands. The heavy rock was cracking slightly under his fingertips and he eased up. The city was already a wreck, there was no need for him to help.
So far no one had spoken, both of Elrond's sons were standing back and fingering flower petals or kicking at pebbles. They only wanted to set the record straight with Mirai, but it was looking to be far harder than they had both anticipated.
Trunks spun and sat on the edge of the building, staring at both of them. Slowly the unabashed anger in him began to fade and his mother's rational brain started to demand his attention.
"So speak, I know there is something going on in those minds of yours. You're both always thinking of something." Trunks tried to smile a little but it wound up more of a grimace.
Elrohir muttered to himself in Quenya before looking Trunks in the eye. "There is." Elladan nodded, sidling up to his brother's side as though trying to absorb some of his strength.
"Well," Trunks motioned with a hand, hoping they wouldn't just clam up.
"Estel told us that you have had a hard life, that we do not understand the depth of it." Elrohir started.
"I'm sure you don't," Mirai said quietly. He slowly slipped down the short wall and sat on the ground, leaning against the stones.
Elladan walked hesitatingly to him and sat down beside him. "Will you share this with us?"
Mirai frowned and looked up at Elrohir. The elf soon joined his brother by sitting at Trunks' opposite side. Sandwiched between the elves, the demi didn't know what to think. "Is my past what bothers you?"
"No! No, we just want to understand," Elladan shuffled a bit closer. "I know that you have explained some to us. About the alternate time, and the deaths of your friends..."
"There isn't much else than that," Mirai said softly. "My whole life was hiding, fighting, scavenging to survive. As cliché as it sounds, the only sure thing was death."
The twins shared a look over Mirai's bowed head; a guilty, saddened one.
Trunks was lost in time for several minutes, remembering the smell of smoky air and the landscape of broken buildings...shattered dreams. He blinked out of it, only realizing he had wept silently by the tears on his lap. He gave both elves a watery grin, "Sorry, got lost for a minute."
"We can't do it, Mirai," Elladan blurted. Elrohir shot his brother a disbelieving look.
The demi-saiyajin shook his head, "I don't know what you mean."
"You deserve better than we can give you. We have many millennia left to age and we just aren't ready settle into a calm life." Elrohir stumbled out, looking only at his brother. He was unable to look at the man sitting between them.
Trunks sat in stupefied silence for a long moment. "I see..." He mumbled absently, his voice tinged with confusion. Suddenly, he began to laugh.
"I--" He started, coughing harshly before he laughed again, harder than before.
The twins looked slightly affronted and began to stand, but Trunks grabbed hold of their cloaks before they got all the way up and pulled them both back to the ground. He was shaking his head and trying his best to calm down.
"I do not see how this is a humorous situation," Elrohir scowled.
Trunks released them and wiped at his face. "I-I'm sorry," he sputtered while shaking his head. "I may not be a teenager anymore, but I'm hardly a spinster." He grinned and laughed again when he realized the twins did not understand anything he had just said.
So instead, he grasped hold of Elrohir's shirt-front and hauled him into a heated kiss. He broke away and laughed again before he did the same to Elladan.
With both elves stunned and speechless, Trunks let out a final peal of laughter and patted them both on the thigh. "I appreciate the concern for my feelings, I do." He shook his head and stifled a bubbling giggle. "But I am not looking for a lifetime commitment here."
Mirai grinned at both of them, hoping that they understood. Slowly, one elf smiled and then the other. Elladan nodded his head sagely, "This is good to know."
A predatory gleam hit Elladan's eyes and he hauled Mirai mostly onto his lap. A solid pull from Trunks brought their lips together again. A growl rumbled in the saiyajin's chest and he curled one hand deeply into the elf's long hair.
A foreign set of warm lips attached themselves to his neck seconds later and Mirai suddenly wished with great fervor for his tail. The thought made him growl, one that turned into a groan seconds later as Elrohir bit down at the juncture of his neck.
Like a bucket of cold water had hit him, Mirai pushed them apart. Both elves panted and looked confused.
"Forgive me, I--" Elrohir started, realizing it was he that caused their impromptu end.
"He is a bit aggressive," Elladan finished for his brother.
A glaze traveled over Mirai's eyes for a moment before he blinked them away. "That's not it," he shook his head, an evil grin quirking his face, "it really isn't." He cleared his throat and touched the love-bite on his neck. "This, however, is tricky."
Elrohir blinked, stared at the love-bite and blinked again. "I still do not understand."
"Have you looked at my father and Goku?" Trunks asked. With a negative shake of the head from both, Mirai let out a painful sounding sigh. "I suggest that you both take a good look at them next time you see them. Specifically in this area," he motioned again to the crimson welt.
"You just said you didn't want to be tied down," Trunks tried to explain.
Elladan grinned wolfishly, "I don't remember saying such a thing."
One of Trunks' eyebrows rose into an arch as he stored that information away for later. "I mean, you don't want to be bonded at this point in your lives. And to a saiyajin, what you nearly did, is the start of a bond."
Elrohir looked aghast, then he pouted. "So, no nibbling on your neck then?"
Trunks shook his head and grinned, "That's fine. But don't bite hard enough to bring blood. Though for now, let's just say we don't until I can talk to Dad. He knows a lot more than I do about this."
Elrohir continued to pout but nodded his ascent anyway. "Of course."
"Trunks!" A deep voice called from the entry. The three of them turned their heads to see Piccolo trying not to roll his eyes at their proximity. "Sam is awake."
The three of them stood as one from the ground and made a hasty retreat into the building. There was already a buzz in the hallway as healers chattered excitedly about the miraculous recovery.
Piccolo was already at the far end of the hall exiting again. Trunks watched him go. "He's gone to fetch your father and Goku," Legolas explained from beside him.
"Oh."
Legolas smirked knowingly at the three of them. Mirai blushed but both twins only grinned and settled closer to their prize.
Aragorn looked frazzled when he came out of the doorway. He had both of the Hobbits by either hand and was dragging them out of the room. "You need to stay here," he told them.
Pippin looked imploringly up at him, eyes wide and childlike. "But Strider, he needs his friends!"
The Gondorian King sighed and pushed them further into the hall. "You need to stay here," he told them both.
The youngest Hobbit began to protest when Merry tugged smartly on his ear. "Remember what Master Piccolo said, Pip."
Pippin nodded and pouted his way to the corner where he sat on a low bench.
Aragorn smiled down at Merry, "Thank you."
"Sure thing, Strider. You just take care of Sam and Frodo." The Hobbit then walked away to sit with his fidgeting cousin.
Legolas filled in Trunks and the twins about what had happened between the Hobbits. Then explained to them the weary, but definitely healing, Samwise Gamgee.
Goku soon exploded from the far end of the hall with Vegeta trailing after him with a sour look on his face. "So where is he?" Goku asked softly, beaming at anyone who would look at him.
"He is still in bed, Goku. He's awake but not 100," Mirai answered him.
"Oh," Goku's face saddened. "That's good though."
The saiyajin stretched and yawned widely. Vegeta rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall. Two sets of probing eyes wouldn't leave him alone and after a frustrating minute, the saiyajin prince snapped around to see Elrond's sons looking at him. "What do you want?" Vegeta growled.
Goku blinked sleepily at the elves and then at Vegeta. "What's going on?"
"They're staring," Vegeta snapped, tired and irritated.
"Forgive me," Elladan spoke. "We were told of your bonding and are trying to understand."
Vegeta quirked an eyebrow and looked at both of the elves and then at his quickly reddening son. "I see."
"You wanna see the mark?" Goku asked. After receiving two hesitant nods, the large saiyajin smiled indulgently and pulled the collar of his tunic down. There at the juncture of his neck and shoulder was a perfect crescent scar.
Both elves looked as though they had finally gotten the punch line of a joke.
Goku tipped his head to the side. "'Geta has one too." He motioned to the Ouji, "show 'em 'Geta."
"I will not," Vegeta snapped.
Goku pouted, then began to send Vegeta lewd images through their bond. Finally the saiyajin prince snapped around and tugged on the collar of his shirt so violently it ripped an inch. The twins both took a quick look at the matching scar on the older saiyajin's neck.
"Are you happy, Kakkarot?" Vegeta hissed, crossing his arms over his chest.
Goku smirked slowly and licked his lips, "Yes."
A slow flush started up Vegeta's neck as he turned away to stare at the end of the hall. "When will we return to our rooms? I'm exhausted."
Goku shrugged, "At least let me look in on, Sam, 'Geta."
"The Hobbit is bedridden Kakkarot. He's not going to run off," Vegeta snapped.
From the corner, Merry and Pippin looked stricken. Goku frowned harshly at his bond-mate, "Vegeta."
The saiyajin prince nearly flinched. "Very well, Kakkarot," he ground out through his teeth.
"You should go to your room and get some sleep, too," Piccolo said quietly to Legolas. The elf blinked up at him in mild surprise. He had been too busy watching Goku and Vegeta's exchange to notice the Namek had come in.
"I will soon," Legolas replied. He glanced up and rolled his eyes playfully at the stern look on Piccolo's face. "Allow me to say farewell's to Sam."
Piccolo watched the elf enter the room and relaxed knowing that Legolas was going to rest soon. Mirai was grinning beside him, but Piccolo ignored him. However, it appeared that meddling saiyajins were going to pester him anyway.
"So, how are things between the two of you," Goku asked innocently.
Piccolo felt his cheeks heat and he snarled, "They are none of your concern."
"Piccolo," Goku said quietly, resting a steady hand on the Namek's forearm until the alien looked down at him. "Have you thought about whether you're going to stay?"
A furrow formed between Piccolo's eye ridges, "What do you mean?"
"The war is over, and the threat of Freeza is gone, Piccolo. If Bulma's fixed the time machine, we could go home as soon as tomorrow."
All inner functions of Piccolo's brain shut down. Tomorrow. He could be home tomorrow without Legolas. Without. Legolas. The words wouldn't fit together and make sense. An irritated twitch ticked at his lip.
"Think it over, what do you want to do?" Goku asked him softly before releasing him.
Legolas came from the room then and smiled up at him, "There, now I'll retire in peace." Piccolo didn't make a motion to show that he had heard. Legolas frowned slightly and stepped into his personal space. "Are you alright, Master Namek?"
Piccolo grunted, "Yea."
