Piccolo walked Legolas to his room without another word. When they stopped outside the closed doorway, the elf looked far from happy. "What is the matter?"

"Nothing," Piccolo lied.

"Then there is a whole lot of nothing on your mind," Legolas accused. He stiffened and stood a little straighter, his face losing all semblance of emotion. "Good evening."

Legolas glided into his room but his door would not shut. A green elbow was holding it open.

"Legolas," Piccolo rumbled, eyes filled with conflicting emotion. "I need to talk to you..."

---

Bulma and the entourage of elves made it to Gondor well after nightfall. The town was far from sleeping when they got there and Lord Elrond was already off of his horse and speaking quickly to the healers before Glorfindel had made it in through the gate.

The elfin lord had mounted again in seconds and with a quick word to his senschal, they were all riding to the top of the city.

Bulma was letting out squeaks of unease as the horses climbed the stairs. The sooner she could get down off of the beast the better. And finally, after a terrorizing time, Elrond reigned his horse to a stop and climbed down.

"Ada!"

A surprised voice called out from a nearby entry. Elladan was standing with his twin; Mirai Trunks sandwiched between them. The demi-prince shook them free from him and helped his mother down.

"Where is Estel?" Elrond spoke to his sons, even as he pushed past them and into the hall. He knew they would follow.

Bulma and Trunks were soon alone with three horses as Glorfindel stalked quickly after his Lord. "How are you, Mirai?" Bulma fussed with his shirt, even licking the ball of her thumb and wiping a smudge of dirt from his cheekbone.

Trunks stepped away from Bulma's reach and smiled. "Things are fine. I didn't expect to see you away from your work. Does this mean...?"

The blue haired vixen grinned knowingly and bubbled where she stood, "I've fixed it! Yes! I took one look at the innards of your maching and I saw exactly where I had gone wrong." The woman was beaming. Trunks couldn't help smiling back, he had seen that look on his mother's face numerous times after she had completed a complex project that kept eluding her.

"So that means you'll be going home soon," he smiled sadly. "I bet your children miss you."

"They're resourceful," Bulma said with conviction, "and I'll be home soon enough." She looked momentarily startled and gripped Trunks by the forearm. "Aren't you coming?"

Trunks flushed lightly but smiled and patted her hand, "No."

"Why not?" Bulma asked, a faint trace of anger in her voice.

"I'm going to stay," Mirai said quietly.

Bulma looked cross and opened her mouth to question him further, but Elrond's twin sons came from the entry conspiring. Both sable heads were bent and touching as they whispered crafty words to each other in Quenya. Bulma looked away from them and back to her pseudo-son and her face softened. Trunks was looking over his shoulder at the elves with a wistful look on his face.

Mirai jumped in surprise as Bulma suddenly clung to him. She gave him an extra hard squeeze and released him. "Then I wish you luck."

Trunks blinked in confusion but nodded his head slightly, "Thank you."

"Mirai," Elrohir sidled up to him, looking up through his hair and trying to seem innocent.

With a raised brow of suspicion, the twins turned him and hauled him away. Trunks waved to his mother before he was turned around a corner and gone from sight.

Bulma smiled, the way women are wont to do when they see young love, and sighed.

"Lady Bulma," Elrond called from within the hall. She rolled her eyes and exaggeratedly walked into the hall dragging her feet.

---

Legolas allowed Piccolo to enter and turned to his bed, leaving the Namek to do what he wanted. When he turned back, Piccolo was leaning against the closed door avoiding his eyes.

"You wanted to speak, and yet you aren't talking..." Legolas chided gently. He began to unbraid his hair as Piccolo gathered his thoughts.

"The war is over," Piccolo started, looking around and seeking an area of shade. The far corner was shrouded in darkness, but it was tricky. Hide in the darkness far from an exit, or remain for quick flight and be scrutinized.

"Yes," Legolas spoke slowly, the word came out sounding more like a question than a reply.

The corner it was.

Piccolo walked quickly past him and stood in the darkness, facing the corner for some time before turning to face the room. Legolas was pulling off his boots.

"There is nothing left to keep us here," Piccolo spoke in monotony.

The boot in Legolas' hand dropped to the floor with a great clatter. Piccolo looked up at him. The elf was sitting entirely still, hand suspended in air where it had finally pulled his boot free. His face was pale and his mouth was set in a hard line. "I see."

"I meant that the war, Freeza, they're over and there isn't anything else that needs us to stay." The Namek's eyes glittered in the very low light and his heart was constricted painfully in his chest. He cleared his throat lightly, hoping it would ease.

"There is no more fighting," Legolas finally straightened; one boot still on. "So there is no more use for you," his voice flat.

Piccolo closed his eyes briefly and nodded once.

Legolas stood, wobbling a little and cursing softly in elfish before he quickly tugged off the remaining boot. He stalked forward, one hand culred into a fist and the other flexing. Tentatively, the elf raised a hand and splayed his fingers across Piccolo's left pectoral. "This," he pushed against the marbled muscle beneath his palm, "may no longer be needed. But what is under it..." Legolas trailed off, dropping his hand away.

Piccolo felt his stomach lurch lightly when the elf turned and walked to his traveling sack in the corner.

Upturning the pack on his bed, Legolas wouldn't look over his shoulder as he spoke. "You have no ties and I will not begrudge you for wanting to return to your home," Legolas pulled a loose tunic from the pile and tugged the shirt off of his back.

Piccolo watched Legolas' hair tumble through the neck and fan across his pale back. A few faint scars trailed the elf's pale skin and Piccolo's fingertips itched to trace them. Before he could put the fleeting thought into motion Legolas pulled on his night shirt.

The elf glanced back at him while pulling his tucked hair out of his collar. "When will you leave?"

This was not going as Piccolo had hoped. He wanted a little reassurance, maybe; not necessarily begging or pleading, but something that told him Legolas wanted him to stay.

"I don't know," the Namek crossed his arms over his chest and suddenly missed his cape with a great fervor.

Pushing the loose items back into the bag, Legolas sat down on the edge of the bed and watched Piccolo with calculating eyes. "Is that all you wanted to say?"

An ugly rage washed across Piccolo as the words left Legolas' mouth with no emotion attached to them. He snarled and stalked across the room, ripping the door open and slamming it shut behind him. He walked to his room and kicked his own door shut, ignoring the groans of the stones of the wall.

Apparently he had gotten his answer after all; in an unfeeling question on a stony face. His over-large heart was in ribbons.

---

When morning came, Piccolo staggered into the dining hall and half registered Bulma and Elrond at one end of the table. He sat down heavily into his own seat and glared holes into the empty plate in front of him.

He hadn't slept, nor meditated all night. Legolas' cool and distant face had been branded into his head. Whenever he closed his eyes he saw the elf looking at him with emotionless eyes.

"Uh, Piccolo?"

The Namek snapped his eyes up, boring his heated gaze into Goku's startled face. "What?" He snarled.

"You, uh, okay?" Goku shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Fine," Piccolo spat, snatching up his water glass in one hand. He scowled as it shattered into pieces, soaking his tunic and cutting the palm of his hand. The whole room had grown quiet and several sets of eyes were resting on him in shocked silence.

Piccolo stood, his chair flinging out behind him in a clatter. He stalked from the room trailing water and drops of blood.

Goku looked over at Vegeta, his naive face open and slightly hurt. "Was it something I said?"

Vegeta shook his head and stared at the empty place where Piccolo had sat. "It wasn't you, Kakkarot." His steely onyx gaze snapped down the table where Legolas was sitting at Aragorn's right. It was not where he usually sat. The elf was too busy staring at the empty archway where Piccolo had escaped to notice.

"Well, uh, that was unexpected..." Bulma tittered uncomfortably.

"Hmph," Vegeta grunted, returning to his meal. From the other calculating gazes around the table, it looked as though a select few were thinking what he was. It wasn't his place to question the motives of Piccolo or his elf, and if he had to, he'd keep everyone else from sticking their noses into it as well. He may not like the Namek as Goku did, but he had a respect for him.

"Keep out of it," he mumbled in her direction, recognizing the keen glaze in her eyes when she found a particularly juicy mystery.

"Keep out of what?" She snapped, fixing her ex-husband with a pout.

"It doesn't matter what," Vegeta looked up at her, his fist tightening around the fork in his hand, "just leave the Namek alone."

"Hmph, fine," Bulma turned her back to him. "I didn't care anyway. It's not like Piccolo has any interesting personal issues."

Breakfast continued in stiff silence for a while until Aragorn cleared his throat and attempted to break the atmosphere. "Lady Bulma, Elrond tells me you have fixed your 'machine'."

"Yes," Bulma perked up, laying her utensils down. "It was really rather simple once I figured it out! Of course, Trunks' machine was a big help."

"I am glad," Aragorn smiled at her enthusiasm. "Does this mean you will be returning to your world soon?" He barely noticed that Legolas stiffened beside him.

"Well, yes, I guess it does," Bulma said softly. Her blue eyes shifted carefully to Elrond at the end of the table.

"I do hope you won't leave until after the wedding," Elrond said casually. Aragorn nearly stood out of his seat. The regal elf smiled just slightly and nodded to him, "You do have intentions of marrying my daughter?"

"Of course," Aragorn nodded stiffly, trying his best to remain serious.

"That is good to hear," Arwen's soft voice carried through the hall with ease. Aragorn turned sharply and met her in three strides.

The couple twined together and kissed softly. Bulma let out a coo of contentment and sighed happily.

"Isn't that sweet?"

Vegeta snorted and Goku shrugged. Bulma pouted while she swatted at them with her napkin. "You two have no romantic bones in your body!"

"Sorry Bulma," Goku laughed.

"Don't apologize," Vegeta said sharply. "If you were half as disgustingly sappy as the Onna, I'd have to beat it out of you."

Goku grinned and leaned toward the prince, "Do you promise?"

A sharp canine gleamed from Vegeta's smirk and he gripped Goku tightly by the collar, "Yes."

Vegeta licked his teeth. Goku bent forward and whispered so that only they, and those elves who tried to listen, could hear. "Have I told you today how fantastic you look today?"

The saiyajin prince growled softly and hauled Goku from his chair. He didn't release the taller from his hold by the collar and drug him from the hall; Goku was beaming.

"Those two," Bulma rolled her eyes. "It's always sparring with them."

Elladan and Elrohir shared a look and leaned across the table. "I do not believe it was sparring they had in mind," Elladan grinned.

"But Vegeta said..." Bulma trailed off looking between the identical grinning elves. She looked up to her pseudo-son. Mirai was nodding with a small smile. "Oh," Bulma looked at the entrance where the two of them disappeared and her eyes widened. "Oh!"

"Well, good for them." Bulma said with conviction. "It's about time."

Mirai cocked his head to the side, "You knew?"

"It was inevitable," Bulma shrugged. "They were the last of their kind. Both of them are outcasts, and even if it doesn't seem like it they make a good match. Goku's a little naive sometimes, but he isn't stupid. And as for Vegeta... he needs someone who can keep him in line sometimes." Bulma grinned.

She patted Trunks' hand comfortingly, "I did love your father, Trunks, and I know that he felt something for me too even if it wasn't exactly love. But the two of them," she motioned the doorway where the saiyajins disappeared, "they've got a different connection. An understanding of what it's like to be who they are. I couldn't understand your father no matter how hard I tried sometimes."

"It's okay," Trunks smiled reassuringly. "I'm not upset by it. And I'm glad too. They were alone too long, even if they were surrounded by others."

"Exactly," Bulma smiled. Her son had certainly gotten her brains if nothing else but her eyes.

At the end of the table, Legolas was staring at his plate and frowning.

---

Piccolo took refuge with the Hobbits. Sam was asleep, but he had been up and even out of bed a few times since his initial revival. Frodo was still very much the same. The Namek was sitting in the chair nearest his bedside, staring out the window and listening to the even breathing.

Try as he might, he couldn't help thinking about Legolas again. He was not a creature of many words and he knew even if he lived for millennia alongside the elf, he would never tell him about how he felt. If what he showed him was not enough, then what relationship--if he dared call it that--they had would never work anyway. He did not stroke another's ego, he wasn't about to start.

"Mr. Piccolo?"

"Sam," Piccolo stood from his chair, actually relieved to have his thoughts interrupted. He stood at the foot of the bed and looked the Hobbit over. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," Samwise grinned. His stomach let out a grumble and he blushed. "And a bit hungry."

Piccolo smirked, "I'll tell someone you're awake."

A medic in the hall jumped at his call, but was soon bustling toward the kitchen at Piccolo's request for broth for the Hobbit Samwise Gamgee.

He ducked back into the room and touched the small boy's forehead. "You're warm."

"Sorry," Sam mumbled.

Piccolo grunted to keep from laughing. "Don't be." He pulled up a chair between Sam's bed and that of Frodo.

Sam was staring over to the other bed, eyes wide and face pale. "How is he?"

"The same." Piccolo did not lie. The Hobbit swallowed loudly and nodded his head. "The elves looked in on both of you yesterday. Elrond has been looking after him."

"Good," Sam managed to smile a little. "He's a healer."

Piccolo nodded.

"Here you are young Master Gamgee!" A young medic came through the door with a covered platter. Piccolo eyed him warily and the young man blanched but did not retreat. Piccolo respected that.

"I'll be back later, Sam," Piccolo promised, helping the boy sit up amongst his pillows.

"You're leaving?"

Piccolo ignored the pleading eyes--well practiced from years with Gohan--and snorted. "Yes." He motioned to the medic with one large hand. "You need to eat."

"Okay," Sam sighed unhappily as Piccolo walked to the door.

The Namek stopped and looked over his shoulder. In his hardest voice he called back to him, "And you'd better eat it all."

The medic nearly dropped his plate, but Sam only smiled wider and nodded. "Yes, sir."

Piccolo smirked, "Good." And walked out to the garden.

The air was amazingly clean. The taint from Mordor had long since left and the brilliant, crisp smell was back. Piccolo breathed deeply and let out his breath in a rumble. He was going to miss the amazing views and cleanliness of the whole place.

A large tree in full bloom was calling to him from across the gardens. Piccolo perched under it, facing into the sun and curling his legs beneath him. Perhaps if he could manage to meditate, he could look over his whole problems with a fresh mind.

---

"Piccolo!"

Merry was running through the citadel, grinning like a fool and searching for the elusive Namek.

"Piccolo!"

Behind him, and ducking into open rooms to yell too, was Pippin. A woman's surprised scream echoed in the hall and Pippin came barreling out of the room with a bright blush calling his apologies.

Pippin made it to Merry's side, panting and grinning. "The Lady Eowyn was dressing," he supplied, looking a bit guilty.

Merry laughed and continued running, too out of breath to reply.

They stumbled into the gardens and stood with hands on their knees. "Piccolo!" They called together.

"Why are you two causing such a racket?" A low, grumbling voice spoke from behind them. The Hobbits spun and launched themselves at the Namek. He was sitting below a tree and peeking at them from beneath his swaying antennae.

"Piccolo," Pippin wheezed, hugging him tightly about the neck. "Frodo is awake!"

The Namek stood immediately, sending the Hobbit tumbling to the ground with a squeak. "When?"

"Only minutes ago," Merry nodded happily, tugging on Piccolo's tunic and leading the way toward the infirmary.

When Piccolo managed to enter the hall--one Hobbit clinging to each of his legs-- he felt the immense relief and happiness flooding the corridor. People were laughing and smiling, patting each other on the back and hugging briefly.

"There ye are Master Namek," Gimli grinned. He eyed the two Hobbits and motioned to them with his pipe. "I see they found ye alright."

"It's true then." Piccolo could feel the alert ki of Frodo in the room down the hall.

"Aye," Gimli smiled happily, "it is."

The Hobbits hopped down from their ride and ducked between people and between their legs to get into Frodo's room. A great roar of laughter and happiness soon spilled from inside and Piccolo felt heartened to hear it.

He walked toward the room, people moving out of his way as he passed. Before long, Piccolo was standing in the doorway at the same spot he had watched from for days on end. All four Hobbits were piled in one bed, hugging each other and talking animatedly. Frodo's large blue eyes looked up and up until he was smiling softly at Piccolo. The Namek smirked and nodded his head in greeting.

"Perhaps you three ought to give him room."

Piccolo tried not to stiffen at the smooth voice that spoke from his side.

"Aw," Merry groaned from the bed, "Come on, Legolas, you may as well join us rather than ruin the moment."

The elf laughed and stepped into the room. He perched lightly on the foot of the bed and was soon tackled by two rambunctious Hobbits while Frodo and Sam laughed at the foolishness.

Piccolo watched the exchange with a dour face and soon excused himself. He missed the troubled blue eyes that saw him go as quickly as he had come.

---

It was only hours later before Piccolo's solitude was disturbed again. A lightly panting Frodo Baggins settled down beside him beneath the tree.

"You should be in bed," Piccolo chastised, listening to the light rattle in the Hobbit's chest.

"I know," Frodo smiled sheepishly. "But I thought it might be nice to sit with a quite friend."

Piccolo smirked and closed his eyes again. "Merry and Pippin too much for you?"

"They are my favorite people in the world," Frodo admitted, "but I am still too tired for their energy yet."

The Hobbit laughed at Piccolo's snort and settled a little more against the tree bark. It was peaceful in the garden with only the minimal noise from the Healing Hall disturbing the solitude now and then.

"Piccolo," Frodo asked softly. The Namek grunted to show he was listening. A small warm hand rested on his arm and Piccolo opened his eyes to look down. Frodo was frowning up at him. "Are things not well?"

"What do you mean?"

"Between us? Are you angry with me for leaving?"

"No," Piccolo said quietly. "You are brave Frodo Baggins. And I respect you for what you've done. You're a hero."

The Hobbit shook his head and blushed. "I'm no hero."

"Because you don't think you are," Piccolo spoke with a small smirk, "makes you one."

"I don't feel like a hero. I feel lucky," Frodo said, coughing lightly into his fist.

"That's fine." The Namek lifted Frodo to the crook of his arm and stood up. "Don't you know that a hero is only a fool who's gotten lucky?"

"Really?" Frodo asked with a grin.

"Take it from a fellow fool," Piccolo smirked.

He carried the Hobbit back through the garden and toward the entrance to the hall. Frodo didn't object.

"Piccolo?"

"Hmm."

"Are things not well between you and Legolas?" Frodo asked innocently.

Piccolo nearly stuttered to a stop but managed to cover it nicely. "What do you mean?"

"You aren't speaking."

"How do you know, you've only been awake for a few hours."

Frodo poked him in the chest with one finger, "Being tired and being blind are two different things."

They entered Frodo's room and Piccolo lowered the Hobbit back to the bed and pulled the covers up to tuck him in. "The elf and I are fine," Piccolo grumbled.

"The elf," Frodo said skeptically. "He's upset too, you know." Frodo sat up in his sheets.

"Is he?" Piccolo asked in a monotone voice. He kept his face a mask.

"Yes," Frodo nodded, yawning widely before he continued. "You can see it in his eyes."

"In his eyes?" It was Piccolo's turn to sound skeptical.

"Mmhmm." Frodo nodded, laying back amongst his pillows.

"Go to sleep, Frodo Baggins," Piccolo chided. He walked to the entry and stopped as Frodo mumbled in his half-sleep.

"I almost forgot, Strider and the Lady Arwen are to be married tonight."

"Go to sleep," Piccolo demanded softly, smiling when Frodo mock saluted and rolled onto his side.

He returned to his rooms instead of the garden and was accosted in the hallway by two identical elves.

"Come with us," Elladan whispered excitedly.

"Why?" Piccolo frowned at them.

"It's a surprise for this evening!" Elladan smiled brightly.

"They are only dress robes for the wedding," Elrohir explained.

"Oh," Piccolo curled his nose up. "Are they necessary?"

"Yes," both elves exclaimed with matching looks of horror. "It would be a travesty not to wear dress robes to a royal wedding."

"Fine," Piccolo sighed.

The elves held out a hand to point to their rooms in the opposite direction and Piccolo growled as he walked past them. The twins shared evil grins before quickly following him down the hall.