Chance Encounter

Disclaimer: Balian, Aragorn, Legolas etc. are MINE...in my wildest dreams.

Chapter 34: The Last Stand

The battle surged around him like the wildest storm in which he was only a drop of rain. Balian decapitated one orc and moved onto the next. Merry and Pippin were fighting back to back behind him and they were managing rather well, considering their size. Legolas had once again exhausted his arrows and was reduced to fighting with his knives. This time, he was not counting.

Black blood spurted everywhere, staining Balian's face and hands as he ended the miserable lives of the orcs. He could not help but pity them even as he slashed out at them. Were they even able to choose whether they wanted to kill or not? He pushed his blade into an orc's body. There was a sickening squelch as it went through flesh. If the orcs had no choice but to be what they were, where did they go when they died? The question was too profound for the blacksmith. He pushed it out of his head and continued to fight. His blade was stained with the blood of his enemies.

A screech sounded overhead. The Nazgûl had arrived, swooping down on the valiant group of fighters. Balian doubted that there would be a high chance of survival for the men. He was proud to go down fighting alongside such courageous comrades. Truly, if he was to die, he would at least die a knight. Before the Nazgûl could attack the men however, a long clear call answered their screams. There was a flurry of feathers as the largest eagles that Balian had ever seen engaged the winged beasts in battle. He felt his hope renewed.

Guy was fighting nearby and somehow, Balian found himself right beside his archrival. 'I never thought I would die fighting side by side with Guy,' he thought. It was ironic. Not so long ago, they had been trying to kill each other.

It took almost all of Guy's concentration just to prevent himself from being skewered. All the while, he was looking for an opportunity to achieve his ultimate goal without getting killed. An orc charged at the antagonistic pair, intent on spearing at least one of them. It would have missed entirely if Guy had not seen his chance and given Balian a violent shove.

The orc's spear met the blacksmith's torso, just below his ribcage. The tip pierced through the chainmail and Balian's flesh, emerging from his back. Balian was too shocked to scream. Blood spilled from his mouth and into his beard. Recovering his senses just in time, he ignored the pain and beheaded the orc.

Merry watched in horror as the scene unfolded before his eyes. Time slowed to a trickle as Guy pushed Balian into the orc's path. He wanted to shout something, but his voice stuck in his throat. How could Guy do such a thing after Balian had spared his life?

Balian wrapped his fingers about the shaft of the spear and attempted to break it off, screaming through clenched teeth as he did so. The action sent waves of pain shooting through the core of his being. He saw and felt something black and sticky on the shaft. It had been poisoned. The brittle wood snapped and he discarded it. Balian let loose a groan as he clutched the wound in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. Red rivulets ran from between his fingers. Everything seemed to fade. His knees refused to obey him and they buckled. He leaned on his sword for support. Someone was calling his name from faraway. The voice was laced with despair. He tried to say something to reassure whoever it was but found that he couldn't. His body gave away and he crumpled to the ground as his life was slowly drained from him.

Guy glanced back to see Balian lying on the ground. He smiled in satisfaction even as he cleaved an orc's head from its shoulders. In life, Balian had been called an angel of justice. In death, he looked like a fallen angel with broken wings. Never in his entire life had Guy felt so successful. Emboldened, he applied himself to the fighting with more vigour than ever before. Balian was dead, and Guy wanted to live to enjoy it.

Merry and Pippin scrambled to Balian's side. The man looked dead but the hobbits refused to give up hope. They wadded up their cloaks and pressed them to either side of the wound in an attempt to staunch the blood flow. The other men saw what had happened and they formed a protective circle around the threesome.

All seemed lost when the Nazgûl suddenly left. The ground was shaking and no one could remain upright. The tower of Barad-dûr crumbled as the Eye of Sauron exploded, sending waves of power outwards and forcing man and orc alike onto the ground. All of them looked on in wonder as Mordor caved in. The orcs fled as they realized that their master had been defeated. Balian's eyes opened slightly. His vision was blurry and he was consumed by pain, but he could see that the fighting had stopped and the dark clouds of foul fumes had dispersed. A small sigh of satisfaction escaped his lips, unnoticed by all. Middle Earth was saved. His eyes slowly closed and he retreated into the darkness where pain could not find him.

In the distance, Mount Doom erupted, spewing rivers of red liquid rock down its sides. Gandalf's joy turned to worry as he thought of Frodo and Sam, all alone in Mordor. He called to Gwaihir, the Lord of the Eagles, and asked the great bird to take him to Mount Doom to find the hobbits. Merry and Pippin wanted to go too, but they knew that Gandalf would never permit it. Instead, they turned their attention back to their wounded friend.

Legolas noticed a group of men clustered around something. He pushed his way through to the centre, then stopped in his tracks. On the ground lay Balian's broken body, seemingly lifeless. He knelt down beside the man. "No, my friend," he whispered. "Not again. You can't die now that the enemy is gone and the war is over." He searched for a pulse and to his relief, he found it, even though it was very weak.

Éomer had managed to make his way to the centre with Aragorn right behind him. "What happened?" he demanded as soon as he saw the blacksmith.

"It's Guy," said Merry. "He pushed Balian into the orc's path so the orc could stab him."

'Damn the midget,' thought Guy as all eyes turned to him. He could not escape. He was surrounded by more than a thousand angry warriors, all thirsting for his blood.

"Arrest him," said Éomer. Gondorians and Rohirrim alike rushed to do his bidding. Guy was quickly subdued and bound.

Balian's still form was transferred onto a makeshift stretcher. Legolas, despite his fear for his friend, thought that it was ironic that Balian should enter the White City twice in exactly the same way. 'What would you say if you knew, Balian?' he thought. 'Once again we must deliver you into the hands of the healers that you seek to elude.' The procession back to Minas Tirith was sombre. Many of the brave men who had ridden out were not riding back, while others were going back home on stretchers, only to die in the land where they had once roamed.

Legolas glanced back at the blood-soaked battlefield. The carrion birds were already feasting. What would become of it in ten years' time? A hundred years' time? When the dust was gone from the bones of the fallen and lush green grass grew where the carnage had been. When all the elves had sailed and Aragorn's name was but one of the many in the legends, would they still remember the sacrifice that had been made before the maw of Mordor that day? The elf had no answers. Only time would be able to tell. He looked back down at his friend, who had not moved. Maybe the future generations would not remember, but Legolas promised that he would remember for all of them.

Guy fought and struggled as he was dragged underground and thrown into the deepest, darkest and dampest cell in the dungeons. The heavy door slammed shut and he was left alone with his thoughts. What becomes of him now? 'The world will decide,' said Balian's voice inside his head. 'The world always decides.'

'Damn you, blacksmith,' thought Guy as he tried to get rid of that voice from his mind. He didn't want the world to decide. No, he, Guy de Lusignan, wanted to decide for himself. He sat down and leaned against the wall. It was cold and it smelled bad, like mildew tainted with rotting flesh. What would he give to be out of here?

'If you rise, rise a knight,' said Balian's voice.

"Goddamnit blacksmith! Leave me alone!" screamed Guy into the nothingness. He had enough troubles without Balian invading his mind. His words echoed in the empty stone cell.

'Alone, alone, alone...' said the echoes. They were right. He was alone, only it didn't seem like it. In the dark emptiness, more voices seemed to invade his head. Some were his friends. Some were not. He heard Reynald saying "Kill him", but Reynald was long dead.

"A king does not kill a king," said Saladin's voice. Guy hoped that it was true. He was a king and Aragorn was a king, but did Aragorn live by this principle?

"God help me!" he whispered. "I'm going mad. This is Balian's revenge!"

Balian looked so weak and helpless, lying on the white pallet in the Houses of Healing. His face was pale and his breathing was so shallow that it could hardly be registered. Aragorn had dressed the wound to the best of his ability but it seemed that his best was not good enough. Poison was running rampant through the young man's body and he had lost too much blood. The only fortunate thing was that the spear had missed most of his vital organs but that hardly mattered. Even an amateur could tell that Balian was beyond saving.

The blacksmith's eyes slowly opened. They were unfocused. His friends leaned in closer. This movement, no matter how small, gave them a spark of hope. "Legolas?" he said in a barely audible whisper.

"I'm here," said Legolas, taking the man's hand in his own.

"I'm dying, aren't I?"

"No you're not, my friend." Legolas was finding it difficult to speak through the lump in his throat.

"I know I am," said Balian. There was no fear, only acceptance. "Will you promise me something?"

"Anything," said Legolas.

"Don't put 'Nanny Balian' on my tombstone."

"You're getting back at me, aren't you?" Legolas managed a watery chuckle.

Balian gave a faint smile and closed his eyes again. Legolas quickly checked to see if the man was still breathing and sighed in relief when he found out that he was. The elf turned to Aragorn. "How much longer does he have?" he asked. "Is there any chance of saving him at all?"

"This is beyond my skill to heal," said Aragorn. "I've never seen this type of poison before and even without the poison, the wound alone is very serious. I'm surprised he's still alive. He is very strong. I guess he has about three days, maybe more, maybe less. I don't know for sure."

"He's too young to die," said Legolas.

"Poor lad," said Gimli. "He's never known a day of true peace. He doesn't even know the joy of smoking."

"And he's never tasted fried mushrooms," said Pippin.

"Or stewed mushrooms," added Merry.

"And ale from the Green Dragon," said the Took. "He's never tasted that either."

The door opened, and Faramir came in. "My lords," said Gondor's future Steward. "You should rest."

"I can't leave him all alone," said Legolas.

"I'll keep vigil tonight," said Faramir. "He won't be alone."

Aragorn nodded and the members of the Fellowship filed out reluctantly. They were just coming out of the Houses of Healing when two giant eagles landed, each carrying an unconscious hobbit in a talon.

"Frodo!" cried Merry and Pippin, breaking into a run. Frodo's eyes moved beneath his eyelids as he heard his name. His left hand had a bloody stump where his index finger had been.

Sam woke. "Mister Frodo," he croaked.

"Hush, Samwise," chided Gandalf gently, climbing down from Gwaihir's back. "He's safe. You both are, and you need to recover your strength."

"Are they going to be alright, Gandalf?" said Pippin anxiously.

"They will be," replied the wizard.

"At least someone will be fine," said Merry.

"What happened?" asked the Istar.

"Balian is badly injured," said Aragorn. "He might not survive."

"That lecherous traitor tried to kill him," spat Gimli.

"What lecherous traitor?" asked Gandalf.

"Guy," said Merry. "He pushed Balian into the path of an orc spear."

"Can you do something about it, Gandalf?" asked Legolas.

"Let me settle Frodo and Sam first, and then I will see what I can do for our young blacksmith."

There was only grey. Mist surrounded him like a shroud, muffling all sounds. He couldn't see anything. He wandered aimlessly, looking for a path, or anything that might guide him. Something caught his eye. There, in the far distance, was a glimmer of light. He headed towards it...

Faramir watched the unmoving man, all the while holding his hand, hoping that he would wake. "You know," he said softly. "I took your advice and I talked to Éowyn. You probably wouldn't believe this but I proposed to her afterwards and she accepted. Being honest and blunt worked better than I had expected." The man on the bed did not respond. Faramir continued to speak, even though Balian could not hear him. "You have to wake up soon. Éowyn and I have already picked a date for our wedding. It's in six months' time but we need help planning it. It's going to be a huge affair and we need some expert advice."

The door opened and Éowyn came in. "What are you doing, Faramir?" she asked. "I thought I heard voices."

"I was just talking to Balian, trying to entice him to come back," said Faramir.

"What were you talking about?" asked Éowyn, bringing another chair over so she could sit beside the bed.

"I was telling him about our wedding plans," said Faramir. He turned back to the unconscious blacksmith. "I want to hold it in Gondor, but she wants to hold it in Rohan."

"It'll be summer in Rohan," cut in Éowyn. "The grass will be lush and green and the air will be filled with the scent of wildflowers. The bees will be busy in the meadows, collecting sweet nectar to make honey." She took a deep breath. Seeing Balian like this reminded her of Théodred on his deathbed. "You have to come, Balian," she continued, trying to control the quivering in her voice. "You've only ever seen Rohan in its darkest winter. It wouldn't be fair if you didn't stay long enough to see its most glorious summer as well."

"And you need to help rebuild Middle Earth," said Faramir, putting his arm around Éowyn to offer her what comfort he could. "Much of the infrastructure in both nations has been damaged. We need someone with your skills. Think about it, my friend. There are orphans waiting for you back in Rohan, or so I'm told. They'll miss their nanny. If you die, Aragorn will build a statue of you, and I know for sure that the plaque will say 'Nanny Balian'. You don't want that, do you? I know how much you hate being at the centre of attention."

Thus, Éowyn and Faramir held a one-sided conversation with Balian until the new day dawned and Legolas came to relieve them. The second day had begun.

No matter how fast he walked or ran, the light did not seem to draw any closer. Just as he was about to give up, he was in its full glare. The mist cleared away and there seemed to be nothing beneath his feet except air. Not so far away was a wall of pure white, and t here were many gates. All of them had long queues. He lined up at the end of the closest one. Men and women dressed in robes the colour of the wall guarded the gates and ticked off names from an ever growing list as people went inside. Soon, it was his turn.

"Name," said the guard.

"Balian of Ibelin," he said. The guard peered at his list and frowned.

"You're not supposed to be here," said the guard. "Your name is not on my list."

"Then where am I supposed to be?"

"Heavens, don't ask me. I only make sure the right people get in. Next."

Balian was pushed aside by the person behind him. He watched as the other people went in, wondering why he wasn't allowed. Occasionally, tall fair beings with white feathery wings wandered past. One of them saw Balian and went to speak with the guard. They conversed in hushed whispers. The guard pointed first at Balian then at his list. The fair being nodded then approached Balian.

"Balian d'Ibelin, son of Godfrey, you will come with me," he said.

When Frodo woke, he was no longer in Mordor. The air smelled fresher with the scent of spring blossoms. Golden sunlight poured in through the window. A familiar figure was sitting at the end of his bed, hunched over a smoking pipe. The bushy eyebrows were drawn together in thought and resembled two fat grey hairy caterpillars.

'Am I dead?' thought the hobbit. His hand throbbed where Gollum had bit off his finger and he decided that he was very much alive. Aloud, he voiced one word. "Gandalf?"

The figure on his bed turned. The kind lined face that he knew so well was lit up by a smile.

"Oh, Gandalf!" cried Frodo.

On hearing the noise, Merry and Pippin rushed in to investigate. They saw that Frodo was awake and they leapt onto his bed to hug him. Gimli came in next. The dwarf clapped his hands in jubilation and seemed to want to join the hobbits on the bed but he managed to restrain himself. Legolas came in, followed by Aragorn and last of all, Sam. The Ringbearer glanced at his friends. Someone was missing. He knew about Boromir but... "Where's Balian?" he asked. His friends' faces fell. Sam was the first to speak. "He's next door, Mister Frodo," said the loyal gardener. "He's not very well."

Frodo pushed himself into a sitting position. "Can I see him?" he asked. Gandalf and Aragorn shared a glance. The hobbit didn't give them time to refuse. "I feel fine. I really do," he insisted. "I just want to see him."

Gandalf sighed. "Very well then, Master Baggins," he said. Frodo, leaning on Merry and Pippin, made his way to Balian's room. They settled Frodo in the armchair beside the bed, wrapped a blanket around him and put a footrest beneath his feet.

"If you need anything, just ring the bell," said Pippin, putting a large silver bell in Frodo's lap. "One of us will be outside." With that, they left Frodo and Balian alone in the room for what could be the last time.

Frodo reached out to touch Balian's still hand. It was hard and calloused from years of labour and toil. "I realized that I've never thanked you for protecting me that time on Caradhras," said the hobbit. "Thank you. You saved my life. You can hear me, can't you? I hope you can. I wish you would wake up. You probably have a grand story to tell. I don't know but one day, I might write a book about all our adventures, and I want to put you in it. Fight, Balian, fight. Fight like that time on the mountain. Wake up soon, please? You have to visit the Shire, now that Middle Earth is saved. It is the most beautiful place..."

The sun set in the west, marking the end of the second day. They were running out of time. Legolas paced restlessly. There had to be a way. Balian's immortality was meaningless if he died like this. Didn't Gandalf say that the Valar had a use for the man? Surely the Valar wouldn't let his life just end because of Guy's actions. The elf pondered this well into the night, when everyone was asleep. Driven to the end of his wits, the elf sneaked through the corridors and into the throne room where the palantir was kept.

Aragorn trailed the elf at a distance. He couldn't sleep either. The man waited outside the throne room to see what Legolas would do.

Legolas approached the cloth-covered palantir, aware of the harm that it could do if it was not properly wielded. He pulled off the cloth. There it was, a perfect sphere of clear black crystal. Light festered at its centre, drawing him to it. It called to him, inviting him to look deeply. The elf placed his hands on the cold smooth stone.

Stay Tuned...

EVERY ACT HAS A MOTIVE...

Extreme close up of a large frightened eye.

Silhouette of someone plunging a knife downwards.

Blood splatters on the wall.

EVERY COINCIDENCE HAS A PURPOSE...

Cassandra: You will make things right.

Balian brandishes his sword at someone

EVERY MAN HAS SOMETHING WHICH HE DESIRES...

HONOUR

Hector turns.

LOVE

Paris kisses Helen.

JUSTICE

Balian draws his sword.

Achilles: (shouting) Do you know what's waiting upon that beach?

GLORY

Achilles: (shouting) Immortality! Take it! It's yours!

POWER

Agamemnon: Troy must submit to my command!

Balls of fire fly into the night sky.

Balian fights a Greek adversary.

Paris shoots an arrow.

Legolas unsheathes his knives.

Pintel and Ragetti run with sacks of gold taken from the temple.

From the author of CHANCE ENCOUNTER comes

CHANCE ENCOUNTER: PIRATE KINGDOM OF TROY

COMING SOON TO FF-NET

(PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN SECTION)

Jack: (raising an eyebrow) That's...interesting.

A/N: The Ring's destroyed! The story's almost over! (sobs) . Please review! I think there's about one more chapter to go then Balian has to leave.