Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or Lord of the Rings; they belong to their respective publishers and creators. I gain nothing from writing this but a creative outlet and writing/editing experience.
Summary: Kakashi was a relic of the past, a time where children were prepared for a war they were unlikely to live through; in fact, his career had revolved around the keeping back the threat or war. His brief tenure as Hokage only showed just how dated he was in this new era of peace and technological growth. So...this seemed fitting, a fitting end for a man who had known war for most of his life.
A/N: Thank you for everyone's support and responses. This is the second chapter and explores a little bit about how Kakashi came to be here, and in what state he arrived—people may be pissed off at that but I really try to balance power in my cross-overs. Hope you all enjoy, and thank you to all those who reviewed, favorited, or put this on alert ~ much love, depressedchildren
Chapter 2: For those who have fallen, we fight
Éomer walked his cousin's horse up the hill while the man in question lay over the saddle wrapped in thick woolen blankets. Éomer kept his head up high, though he saw the sorrow in the faces of his people. They looked on his march with grim faces and mothers hushed the young as the Lord Théodred passed before them as cold and pale as a corpse. Éomer gripped the reins of the horse tighter and proceeded on.
Éomer's gaze caught the sight of silver hair that stood up at odd angles. The foreigner was standing on a house roof and staring down at the grim procession. His lone gray eye took in the sight of Théodred before the man closed it as he bowed his head deeply. Éomer closed his eyes tightly for several moments as he continued on. He could understand the man's actions—he was saying farewell to another solider, but Éomer's cousin was not dead yet.
Now at the foot of the steps to the Golden Hall, he saw his sister standing on the landing. Her already pale face grew paler, and her eyes grew wide. Éomer looked away from her and picked up his cousin from the horse and began carrying Théodred up to the healers in the long house. His cousin groaned lowly at being moved—his wounds were infected and he had lost much blood.
Éowyn came up to Éomer's side once he reached the stone landing of the Golden hall. Whatever words of worry she was going to say caught in her throat, and she just stared at Théodred with her hands balled into fists at her sides. Éomer hurried inside with his cousin deathly pale in his arms, and his younger sister trailing after him.
The Golden Hall was cold and dim. King Théoden sat at his throne withered and gray—he was but a shadow of who he had been before. Grimma Wormtongue sat beside the King, and Éomer wanted to curse the loathsome man as he whispered to King Théoden. Instead, Éomer moved forward and knelt with Théodred in his arms. He looked up at his King and hoped to see some of his old fire in him again.
"My King," Éomer began and found his speech thick with the grief he tried to keep back, "Lord Théodred's forces were overcome…" Wormtongue watched him with his beady dark eyes before he leaned in toward the king and whispered his poisonous words. The King made a noise at the back of his throat before his clouded gaze took in Éomer's kneeling form with Théodred in his arms.
"What is this?" he asked in a croaking voice.
Éomer closed his eyes and exhaled. "My King, your son was overcome at the Ford of Isen. Orcs from Isengard—"
"What proof of this?" King Théoden asked, "What proof Isengard is behind this?"
"A company of orcs moved from the east and once past the ford began cutting north across our planes. Scouting parties have witnessed these orcs; they are stronger and faster than other orcs we have come across, and they do not fear the sun. They also bear a white hand on their armor," Éomer stated and motioned for one of his men to come forward with the gear they had picked up from the fight at the Ford.
King Théoden regarded the armor without truly seeing it, and Wormtongue leaned in again to whisper his lies; however, what could Éomer say in contention to this? He would be locked away because of the sway the worm had on the King.
"My son needs healers," the King stated slowly, and Éomer nodded his head. This was true, but he had hoped King Théoden would order him to hunt down those orcs in vengeance, for surely Théodred would die from his wounds. Regardless, Éomer stood and began to head toward the healing wing.
Éowyn watched as her brother left with her cousin. Wormtongue looked toward her and his gaze made her skin crawl. Éowyn quickly fled to the outside. She hurried down the stone steps and did not stop walking until she came up to one of the guard towers. She climbed the ladder and then moved onto the walkway on the inside of the walls. She walked several paces until she was alone.
For the first time, since learning of her cousin's attack, she breathed deeply. She gasped in breath again and again as she stared out at the foot of the mountain at the other side of the valley. Her cousin… Éowyn closed her eyes and let the cold wind blow through her dress—she had not grabbed her cloak like she should have, and the air was biting against her exposed flesh.
"Mah…" She gasped and jumped to the side; the Grim Traveler was there but she had not heard him approach. "Lady Éowyn will catch cold," he stated as he pulled at the clasps of his own cloak. Éowyn looked away from him and stared out at the shaded valley.
"I do not want company at the present, Grim Traveler," her words came out clipped and tense.
He hummed and she felt his cloak settle over her shoulders. She looked back over at him. The man stood tall and at ease against the cold wind, although he wore a simple tunic and breeches like any peasant. He did not appear muscular, but she knew he was from their training. Kakashi-sensei was a very talented warrior. He was also old, though perhaps younger than his gray hair and crow's feet would suggest, yet still, his eye held the same look the oldest warriors in their village had—the men who remembered riding out with her grandfather.
However, there was more to the man's gaze, for she knew the look in his eye well. "You have lost many loved ones," she realize too late she was whispering her observation out loud.
He nodded his head once and only once. He did not frown or express his sadness other than a hardening in his eye. The wrinkles on his face were few but told her of pain and hardship just as his eye did. He understood, and perhaps he would not mock her for what she thought…perhaps it would be good to speak her mind?
"I lost my mother and father when I was young…" she gazed up at the early spring sky—it was not quite blue yet and held the silvery-gray of winter still. "I can barely remember them, but I remember when my father rode out for the last time." It was a faded image in her mind, and she could not quite recall what her father looked like anymore—she just remembered broad shoulders and a coarse beard that brushed against her cheek when he hugged her goodbye for that last time.
"Éomer begged to go with him, he was just into his teens and thought he could ride out with the men." She tried to smile at the memory, but she could not. "I cannot remember what I said to him now." She looked over at the Grim Traveler. "Did I wish him luck? A speedy return?"
Éowyn cast her eyes down and frowned, "I do not believe I said anything to Théodred when he left." He was only supposed to guard the Ford for a few weeks until the reserves from the Deep came. There was not meant to be any danger.
"Lady Éowyn has time yet to speak to Lord Théodred."
Éowyn looked over at her teacher, her master. She knew she had time, yet her cousin was not truly there. "Have you lost anyone dear…please, Kakashi-sensei?" she needed to know. She felt numb inside, cold.
The Grim Traveler closed his eye and nodded once, "All but my students, but I am lost to them now." He was a Grim Traveler indeed.
Éowyn closed her eyes and felt the wind shift before it began blowing in her face. She caught the cloak before it flew off of her shoulders, and she wrapped it tighter around her. "Is it normal to feel numb in the face death?"
She waited for an answer but it did not come. She opened her eyes and looked over at the man. His eye was closed and his head was tilted back as the breeze whipped through his ragged clothes and messy hair. When the burst of wind died down, he dropped his head.
"To be numb in the face of one's own death could be to accept what is to come without fear, or to not have anything left to live for. To be numb in the face of another's death…" he trailed off and opened his eye, "that means you valued that life little."
Éowyn opened her mouth yet could not utter anything in response. She felt as if he had hit her in the stomach and had knocked the air out of her as he was prone to do during their training. Did she care so little about her cousin? He was like a brother to her!
"If you do care for the person yet feel numb, shock or duty keeps the grief at bay. Once duty and the surprise has passed, then the grief may be felt in full." She turned to the man beside her in surprise, for she had thought he was done speaking. He seldom spoke so much at one time.
He was gazing up at the mountain now. "Still yet, the grief and guilt may be felt for a long time." He spoke of his own grief now, she realized.
"How long ago did you lose them?"
"I lost my parents at perhaps the same age as Lady Éowyn. I then lost my Sensei and dear comrade when I was half your age. The rest I have lost nearly ten years ago."
"And the grief is still felt?" she murmured, and he nodded once. How fitting his moniker was indeed.
"Sister!" Éowyn turned around to see her brother approaching them from the guard tower. He carried her cloak on his arm and he looked less than pleased with her.
"Éomer," she began, yet her words faltered as he glared at her and then glared past her at the Grim Traveler.
"What do you speak of with this man?" he asked her sharply and pulled at the ratty cloak she still clutched around her shoulders. He frowned and threw the cloak back at Kakashi-sensei who caught it without looking.
"I asked him about grief, brother." Her brother's brow furrowed, and he gave the Grim Traveler a look before ushering Éowyn away from him. Her sensei stood tall and unaffected against this as he stared out at the valley. Éowyn was helped down from the guard tower, and her brother began shaking his head.
"To be unaccompanied with that foreigner…" he muttered.
"He would do nothing to me," she stated, but her brother would hear nothing of it.
"You will keep vigil for your cousin, as is your duty." Éowyn closed her eyes at the word and knew he was correct, yet was not her duty also to avenge him?
"And what is your duty, Éomer?"
"To do as the King sees fit of me," she knew he was forcing those words out, and she thought back to her lessons with the Grim Traveler.
"If he denies the involvement of Isengard and forbids you to seek out those orcs, is your duty to still do as King Théoden sees fit? Do you mean to let the Orcs run wild across our fields?"
"Silence!" Éomer hissed as he glanced around; they were not yet in the more inhabited areas, but he still looked for eavesdroppers. "I leave on the next patrol, and those loyal to me will hunt down those orcs."
Éowyn felt relieved, yet she wished to be part of these efforts. Still, she had her duty here to do. "Do your best, brother," she whispered and began to hurry back toward the Golden Hall.
…
Peace time and retirement did not suit Kakashi; he was restless and growing steadily more paranoid with each passing day. Despite his student being who Naruto was, Kakashi still feared war would break out and Konoha would fall completely. It was ridiculous, and he would try to talk himself back from the frantic anxiety these fears would bring up, but part of him still worried. However, Kakashi's life experience up until now had shown that peace did not last. Someone f***ed up, and then bruised egos or a desire for retribution would lead to hidden skirmishes, which led to more public battles, and then a full-out war.
When the eventual war happened, would Konoha be strong in the face of it? Since the last Shinobi war, Academy enrollment had dropped twenty percent and less chuunin strove for Jounin rank. If the other countries or some other player amassed an army, Konoha would be severally behind in manpower. This all meant…well, Konoha would have few defenses when war came to her gates. Kakashi found these thoughts woke him up most nights, and he would begin making counter-plans and measures in his own mind. Other nights he woke from reliving Gai's death. Kakashi was not haunted as often by Rin's death anymore, and as for Obito's true death, well, it had been…a resolution Kakashi had accepted. Yet…Tenzo…Gai… Kakashi had lost both of them; the two people he could truly consider friends. The other Jounin…they were comrades. So what was here for him but his students?
Kakashi supposed that was why he began researching more into his sharingan; after all, Sakura was pregnant and undoubtedly she and Sasuke would have more children, which meant there would be more than two sharingan users in the world again.
Obito's eye was badly damaged now, but Kakashi knew there were a few uses left to it before it would be completely destroyed from the strain. So Kakashi experimented and researched the space-time-travel component, and wished Sasuke was in Konoha so he could study his Rinnegan.
In the end, it was his paranoia, loneliness, and grief that lead to the backfired experiment which sent him to a world he could have never imagined. Well… it was after waking up that he realized he had landed in a world beyond imagining. If he hadn't been knocked out upon arrival in Middle Earth from the blinding pain, chakra exhaustion, and erupted optic nerve-endings in his left socket due to the sharingan literally exploding, he might have fainted anyways from the sight of the archaic warriors around him.
…
Éomer shifted in his armor as he stared at the valley that lay outside the walls of Edoras. Théodred would likely die within the week. He was pale as the grave already, and his wounds were gangrenous; it would be a miracle for him to survive—though Éomer still foolishly prayed his cousin would.
Éomer's gaze shifted to the end of walkway behind the protective walls, and he caught the eye of the Grim Traveler. Éomer narrowed his gaze at the foreigner, and the man simply looked away from him unmoved. Éomer gritted his teeth together and looked back out at the valley. The intolerable Grim Traveler… That man was half dead when Théodred's patrol party found him, and despite clearly looking unlike them, Théodred had brought the man back to camp to heal.
Éomer had been at the camp, which was little more than a small holding with a healing tent that overlooked the plains their herds tended to roam in the spring and summer. He had admonished his cousin for bringing such an oddly dressed and oddly looking man back to their camp. Although he did not have the coloring of the Wild Men, the Grim Traveler could have still been a spy sent against them; after all, the Grim Traveler had worn a mask, dressed in bizarre tattered clothes, and carried many sharp knives on his person.
Éomer supposed that if he had been the only high ranked officer present when the foreign man awoke, the Grim Traveler would never have been permitted to stay in Rohan or stay alive, but Théodred had been there. The Grim Traveler owed his current comfortable position in life to Théodred, and now Éomer's cousin was dying and the foreigner did nothing but bow his head in respect and understanding. Éomer had many men beseeching him to take them on his next patrol so that they might avenge their young Lord, but the Grim Traveler had made no such requests despite the debt he owed Théodred. Instead, the man talked to Éomer's sister. Was he making untoward advances? Or was he promoting Éowyn's notions of duty meaning to die by the blade?
Éomer clenched his fists tightly closed, and the water-stiffened leather in his gauntlets practically creaked. He was waiting for both orders and supplies so that he could go out on patrol. Once he had his men, they would ride out and hunt down those orcs despite what his Uncle might wish. Éomer would not let Théodred's death go unavenged.
"Vengeance blinds…" Éomer managed to keep from jumping as he turned to look at the Grim Traveler who now stood beside him. He narrowed his gaze at the man who did not look back at him but out at the valley. It always unnerved Éomer how quiet the Grim Traveler moved. Some said he was silent as Death, and this only made Éomer distrust him more while others thought it reinforced his moniker.
"This is my duty," Éomer responded curtly.
"Is it?" the Grim Traveler questioned in a neutral tone, perhaps even disinterested.
It should be, but the King… Éomer would think no more on it. Instead, he looked away from the foreigner and back out at the valley. He was tense and hyper-aware of the other man while his thoughts rapidly went over different questions to ask the foreigner. Why were you talking to my sister? What were you talking about? Have you no honor for the debt you owe to Lord Théodred?
However, it was not Éomer who broke the tense silence—or perhaps it was only tense to him, for the Grim Traveler was at complete ease. "…I do not concern with vengeance for I am more concerned what these orcs do beneath the sun. Why they slaughter men at the ford but not attack the holdings or Edoras. What is to the North?" the Grim Traveler questioned almost wistfully if not for the serious topic.
The man's words did make Éomer pause, and he saw the experienced war veteran beneath the relaxed pose and expression the Grim Traveler bore. This foreigner was a solider, yes, but he was most likely also a high ranking general from where he came. Yes, the orcs movements were something to consider, and the few that were found dead at the ford seemed unusual.
"How many orcs reside in Isengard, I wonder?" the Grim Traveler asked in his odd articulation.
Yes…how many indeed. Perhaps he should have supply runs begin stocking up Helm's Deep? There were also tales of Wild Men attacking the West Fold—likely there were more refugees there now and the supplies were running short. Éomer narrowed his gaze as he looked down at the field, for he did not have the power to make those decisions, the King did.
"Why does Saruman, Rohan's long-time ally, send his orcs out now? Why to the North East?" The Grim Traveler's words were hard to catch as he mumbled this, though Éomer managed to catch it and part of him wondered how he had heard the direction of the orcs' movement. But, yes, again, these were concerns he should have been thinking of, but…but his anger and grief at Théodred's impending death blocked them from Éomer's purview.
"You were a general before." Éomer stated as he looked over at the Grim Traveler who hummed in response. The Third Marshal of the Riddermark thought he caught a flash of dry amusement on the man's face; was he perhaps right yet also wrong? "You were a solider, that is obvious," Éomer commented, and the older man hummed again though nodded in affirmation.
Éomer stepped away slightly from the older man and looked at him more closely. He saw the fatigue any warrior who had seen too many wars and death bore. He saw the resigned grief of a man who had lost comrades, but there was also a loneliness about the strange man that seemed almost like penitence. Then there was the way the man carried himself. Despite his gray hair and the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, the man had the physique of a warrior, if perhaps more slender and unassuming than the men amongst the Rohirrim. The Grim Traveler hid his capabilities and made himself appear as unassuming as he could, which had garnered further distrust from Éomer, yet he could see the tactical advantage to this. In fact, the Grim Traveler had revealed on a few occasions in the last few months that he was more spry than his hair and apparent age would suggest, but he been in Edoras for over a year by that point.
Then Éomer caught what his cousin must have seen when he first met the man. "What happened to your lands?" Éomer asked softly, for he could see the proud, yet quiet strength of King Théoden in the foreigner—though Éomer meant the ruler his Uncle had been before his mind became poisoned. The Grim Traveler, he was a ruler and had wisdom forged from experience and difficult decisions. He could see this now.
The man made an amused yet almost sad noise and tilted his head back. Éomer was less than pleased by this response and glared at the man. "A ruler who does not speak of his home, let alone fondly, must not have been a good ruler."
The man turned to look at him with an eye-brow raised, but there was a guarded alarm in the way he held his body and the minute widening of his eye. "Why does the Third Marshal believe this?"
"Because you laugh at your homeland." The man stared at him for a moment, and perhaps he was annoyed, but then his eye curved in a false cheerful way accompanied by an equally false partial smile.
"Mah…Lord Éomer mistook me." However, the man did not elaborate on how Éomer had mistaken him.
"What then did your laugh represent? I had originally assumed you were an exiled solider, but perhaps your people had turned against your rule instead?"
"Why does Lord Éomer wish to know?" the Grim Traveler asked in his clumsy speech.
"Besides confirming my cousin's faith in you?" Éomer questioned, and the Grim Traveler smiled for a brief moment before his expression resumed its normal disinterest. "It would set my mind at ease; I do worry about who my sister speaks with."
The man hummed before he nodded his head once in understanding. "My land was at peace, and I was relic of the past. I…misplaced myself," Éomer furrowed his brow at the strange wording and wondered if he had misheard the man, but the Grim Traveler was gazing out at the horizon again and Éomer knew he could not press the issue.
"Why would a ruler abandon his people?"
The man turned sharply to him, and his gray eye was cold—as if chastising him. "Why does Lord Éomer insist I was a ruler? Does he think I am a usurper? Do I threaten him?" Then he added in a low hiss as his eye narrowed in anger, "And why does Lord Éomer believe me to be the lowest creature on this planet?"
Éomer's confusion was likely apparent for the man scowled and looked away from him before saying, "To abandon one's village, one's comrades is the lowest act one can do."
Yet here this man was, away from his village. "Then why are you here and not ruling your land?"
The Grim Traveler's scowl deepened before he closed his eye and exhaled. His expression became neutral again. "My land is in my pupil's hands, and he will keep the peace." Was he forced to leave then, Éomer wondered. Or perhaps he left of his own will? The Grim Traveler had said he was a relic of the past, perhaps he was unneeded and had desired to go somewhere he might be needed. Or perhaps he was exiled because he held onto war and battle? But what did the Grim Traveler mean by misplaced himself?
There was a cough from behind him, and Éomer turned around to see several riders in their gear and waiting on the ground below him.
"Lord Éomer, we are set to ride out shortly."
Éomer nodded once, "Thank you." He then turned back to the Grim Traveler who continued to stare out ahead of him.
"Do not fill my sister's head with nonsense; she has her duties to King Théoden and she is a proper lady." The Grim Traveler nodded once. Satisfied with this response, Éomer began his way down to the ground; he had some orcs to hunt, plans to make, and information to gather on Isengard's plans.
…
Kakashi woke to a world of pain. His very skin felt on fire, and his veins pulsed beneath the surface. His head ached to such a degree he wished there was some way to end it. Then his eye…his left eye. It was agony. He tried to bring up a hand to press against it, to feel the damage, but he couldn't move his arm. It was as if…as if the tenketsu were blocked. Worse…his chakra coils…he gasped. Something didn't feel right! He tried to open his right eye but the light around him sent an even worse pain through his head.
"Calm, calm" someone was saying something in an unfamiliar accent, or perhaps it was an altogether different language? He didn't recognize anything the person, no man it seemed, was saying. However, he did feel the cool, wet touch of a rough spun cloth against his forehead. The pulsating headache remained and the world felt as if it was spinning, but the rag abated the heat he felt throughout his body.
Kakashi did not speak to his healer, but only dropped his eye closed once again. He could not sleep deeply for the pulsating headache kept him in this vague area between sleep and wakefulness. Thus he could hear and smell things around him in snatches.
He heard the clanking of metal boots, and each creak and thud made his mind reel. He heard the sharpening of swords and the neighing of horses from outside the flapping tent walls. Perhaps he was amongst the samurai? Kakashi smelled straw and tall grass. Perhaps it was summer there? He smelled tanned leather and cooking meats, but nothing was completely clear to him. All was a blur of sensations and pained restless sleep.
He tried to take stock of his body's ailments, but the headache made any inquiry into his chakra network nearly impossible, for his attention would be diverted with each throbbing ache. At one point, someone pressed the lip of some sort of canteen to his lips. The lip of the canteen was wooden and he could smell some sort of treated leather. Kakashi drank but he couldn't open his eyes due to the blinding light and the shooting headache. Perhaps he was dehydrated? He took small sips so as not to become sick.
"Can you hear me?" someone was speaking again and he imagined the person was speaking to him. He turned toward the voice's direction, though he had no clue what was being said. Perhaps he had a concussion or perhaps there was worse damage done to him than he thought possible? He shouldn't have been experimenting with his sharingan like that; he should have accepted the peaceful state of the world.
Kakashi wanted to inform his healer of his inability to understand him, but his tongue was thick and heavy. He opened his mouth but the muscle refused to move how he wished, and all he could do was let out a low moan. His head…his whole body. What had he done? Had something backfired?
His thoughts were steadily becoming sluggish with his fatigue and pain. He wanted to sleep, so badly but the headache… His wish came eventually, Kakashi and embraced the merciful numbness of sleep.
…
The days passed and Kakashi saw Éomer had done what he could to prepare his people for an inevitable war without raising his King's attention. The initial patrol failed to find the orcs, but a dozen men stayed out at holdings to wait for a larger company of riders to go with them to hunt the orcs down. These men relayed messages back to Éomer in Edoras. Kakashi saw the riders come to speak to the Third Marshall, and he knew not all the information they relayed went back to the King. It would be treason if anyone were to tell the King or that Wormtongue man.
Kakashi knew King Théoden had become addled over time, though Kakashi did not know what he could do to help the man or if it was even his place. Still, the King focused on isolating his people within Edoras' limitedly protected walls. There was even an edict for only friends and those who speak their language to be allowed admittance into Edoras. Kakashi knew there were multiple languages within Middle Earth, but he had a basic understanding of Common because of the edict while his comprehension of the oral language of the Rohirrim had improved drastically. Still, Kakashi saw these actions as weakening Edoras. Outside help and reports would be turned away for the King believed treachery was now at every turn. Spies from the Dunlands, spies from the East, spies from anywhere but Isengard to cripple the strength of the Rohirrim. These levels of paranoia and speculation of spies befitted the Elemental Lands, not Middle Earth as far as Kakashi had come to understand.
The new insular focus of Edoras then meant it was frowned upon when new patrol parties went out and members stayed out. It meant families giving extra food and blankets to the patrols riding near Helm's Deep did not necessarily align with the King's decisions. The fact families were prepared to pick up their lives and make for Helm's Deep when the order was officially given went against everything the addled King wanted. Kakashi knew if he was Hokage and his citizens, ninja, and own students were working around what he had deemed best for the village, there would accusations of treasons. However, if Kakashi was Hokage and this happened, he might also reexamine why his people needed to take such measures. King Théoden had done no such thing, and it was fortunate he had not noticed what his citizens and soldiers were doing. The King thought shutting his people into the capital would protect them, but it made them an easier target. The walls were not built to withstand a siege, and the King's inaction would lead to an army outside of their gates.
Kakashi had spied in on King Théoden time and again over the last year, and he saw Wormtongue speaking to the man more and more frequently. The more Wormtongue spoke to the King, the less Kakashi recognized King Théoden; he was no longer the strong, good man who had welcomed Kakashi into his home and kingdom. Presently, the King seemed hardly affected by his son's impending death other than tightening down on patrols so that no more men would fall outside of their village's protection.
Even Éowyn left the lodge less often as she waited for her cousin to die, so he tried to meet with her within, but he was unsuccessful. Wormtongue's gaze followed the woman wherever she went, and to speak to her in the Long House could mean expulsion from Edoras—this place he had grown fond of and could communicate the best in. If Kakashi managed to find Éowyn alone, Kakashi did not doubt Wormtongue would learn of their meeting somehow. Kakashi may be able to enter and move throughout the Long House with no one being the wiser, but to speak to someone within its walls would likely lead to discovery. Kakashi did not know how to write in common, and the Rohirrim had an oral culture; he would be found out by Wormtongue one way or another and the man was bound to interpret his relationship with Éowyn poorly.
That worm of a man haunted Éowyn's every footstep. Kakashi did not worry for her safety because the woman was strong and could take care of herself, though he did wonder when King Théoden would order his niece to marry the snake hissing in his ear. Or when…when would someone coming to Éowyn's aide be perceived as a threat by Wormtongue and thrown in jail or hung? Wormtongue had the King so addled, so far within his control….Kakashi was at a loss. What could he even do to help the addled old King?
Once Kakashi had gained an understanding of the Rohirrim's speech, he had learned of wizards who could speak a word and bend one's will to their liking, but Wormtongue did not have the appearance of these wizards. Kakashi had even seen Gandalf Stormcrow's "thievery" of Shadowfax nearly half a year ago. Kakashi recalled the seemingly frail man had asked for a steed so that he could make for Rivendel, and King Théoden had readily consented. For whatever reason, this Gandalf had picked the King of the Maras, which constituted this borrowing as a thievery and consequently an act equivalent to stealing the Kage's scroll in Konoha. There were rumors of Gandalf having bewitched the King somehow into giving Gandalf the horse, and since then there had been stricter access to Edoras.
Kakashi recalled the harried wizard speak ill of Saruman in a half-crazed way that many brushed off. Kakashi had wondered who was to be trusted amongst these wizards, for Saruman appeared to be an ally until only recently. As for the Gandalf fellow, Kakashi could see the frailty in the old man's frame that spoke of starvation, and there was a paleness to his features that suggested he had been shut away. It may have been the case he was held captive by a malicious Saruman, but for what purpose? Given recent revelations, it would seem Gandalf had been in the right, yet it was hard to know with these wizards who held so much power in words alone.
Kakashi had also learned of elves, creatures as timeless and ethereal as the stars. They were supposedly fair beings hidden in their kingdoms and unfriendly to those who enter their realm. Then there were dwarves, hairy small creatures who lived in caves, and crafted some of the finest metalwork in all the world. It was all so fantastical, and each had their own language. Language, speech, words…it all held so much power here that Kakashi was utterly at a loss. He knew so little of the Common tongue he would fail if he relocated anywhere else, and these wizards…what could they do to him with just one word?
But of course there were other beings…other threats. Goblins, Orcs, and Wild Men, these were the threats to Rohan, and he had had to learn up on them as much as he could. To imagine, there were creatures so clearly vile and evil; there had never been so clear of sides in the elemental lands—not until the Fourth Shinobi War that is.
The origins of the goblins and orcs was still a mystery to him, but he had learned they lived within the mountains and cursed lands. They feared the sun and typically originated from the Lands of the enemy to the East. Now it seemed Saruman had made his own. It made Kakashi's head reel a bit, but it was clear these beings were about killing and conquering what lands were before them, all at the bidding of their masters. The Wild Men came from Dunland and the mountains, as far as Kakashi understood. The land was inhospitable, yet they survived; however, they took every chance they had to pillage the Westfold which they had once claimed? The history was still murky, and of the three types of threats facing Rohan, the Wild Men were the only ones he could sympathize with even marginally.
This world was bizarre to him. No one held the power of speech that the wizards did in the Elemental Lands, and the only one he knew who could affect people with speech to any great effect was Naruto. Kakashi was out of his element here; well, not entirely…Kakashi supposed he knew war. He could at least fight alongside the people who had healed him after his disastrous arrival, and let him into their village. He might be a stable hand who was occasionally called upon to aid the soldiers when their numbers were spread to thin, but he was alive. Heh…he was always alive. He always survived when so many others died.
Kakashi moved along the walkways and stared out at the early spring sky. He was out of his element when it came to King Théoden's present state of mind, and he could do nothing to heal Théodred, but he could fight in the impending war. Théodred would die…a young man who would have become a fine leader. If nothing else, Kakashi could fight for Théodred when his people went to war. It was the least he could do.
…
Kakashi realized, over the course of several days, his headache was one part dehydration, one part chakra exhaustion, and one part his sharingan having virtually imploded in his eye socket. He figured the eye would be useless at some point, but he had not expected such a…violent end. The remaining optic nerves were so sensitive, and he imagined his brain was trying to juggle the sudden lack of sharingan sensory overload—though that was just his imagination.
The headache eventually abated enough for him to take stock of his condition, but he almost wished he couldn't. Whatever Kakashi did in his experimenting…it wrecked him. His chakra coils were damaged beyond what he could ever hope to repair. He supposed time might heal some things but…his coils were a literal mess.
Kakashi imagined he either pumped too much chakra into the jutsu and it then mangled his coils, or through the trans-dimensional travel his coils were wrecked because of who knew why. Perhaps living creatures with developed chakra coils could not go through whatever his sharingan had created, or perhaps whatever dimension he landed in was incompatible with chakra? All Kakashi knew was that it could take years to regain any semblance of control over his chakra…to even get it flowing correctly. Then there was the matter of how miniscule his reserves were compared to before. He was a chuunin in chakra capacity, and something told him that with his damaged coils…well, he would not be increasing his chakra capacity anymore.
Kakashi had laid in shock for…he didn't know how long because of multiple frantic reasons. One, if he couldn't increase his chakra capacity, what did it mean for restoring any depleted chakra? This was his life force, and with the state of his coils… Then his wrecked pathways would mean he couldn't perform jutsu until he regained control, but then using jutsu could kill him so much easier than it ever could before… So whatever claims he could make to being a ninja were gone now; not that it matter because he was stuck wherever his foolish experimenting sent him. He lost Obito's eye.
"You are awake; can you sit up?" someone was speaking to him again, and his shock was probably distorting the speaker's words.
Kakashi turned his head in the direction of the voice and slowly opened his eye. He winced at the light filtering through the tent—he couldn't tell what fabric it was made of, but it looked old to him. Kakashi's gaze finally alighted on a man with long blonde hair and a rather scraggly beard. He wore on oddly styled metal armor—so this wasn't the samurai. The man was very pale, and his facial structure was foreign to Kakashi.
The blonde man looked at Kakashi almost relieved to see him awake. He started for Kakashi, but the former Hokage tensed and went to grab a kunai he belated realized was not on his person. The foreign man held up his hands in a gesture meant to show he was not a threat, "I mean you no harm."
Kakashi swore under his breath. His shock and concussion weren't messing with him. His jutsu did send him to another dimension where Kakashi spoke a language completely different from whatever this pale blonde man was speaking. Kakashi couldn't resist laughing in disbelief. "It figures" he mumbled in Japanese.
The man was startled by Kakashi's laughter and then became surprised by Kakashi's speech. "You do not speak Common…" the man said something perhaps realizing they knew completely different languages.
Kakashi shook his head to himself. Of all the situations he could have landed in alive. He slowly tried to sit up despite his aching body, but at least he understood now why everything hurt. His whole body was a mess. The blonde man moved to help him but Kakashi shot him a glare. He would not trust the man so easily. The pale man backed off and Kakashi managed to sit up on the cot. There was a coarse linen sheet about his waist now and he saw his vest and weapons had been taken from him. Kakashi also noted there were a few more cots but they were empty. There was a water basin and several green, white, and golden-yellow tapestries. This was likely the blonde man's emblem—or at least his country or clan's. Horses…that explained why he heard their hooves and neighing.
The blonde man was regarding Kakashi with his head tilted and his brow furrowed; it was as if the man was parsing something out. Kakashi examined the man more closely as well and realized quickly the man was younger than Kakashi initially guess. The man's eyes were sharp and analyzing, but they were youthful and said he had faced few hardships. Yet…Kakashi also saw the poise of a leader. The young man held himself proudly and with a warrior's grace. However…Kakashi did not see any foolhardiness, whatever hardships the young man had faced had matured him past his years. Kakashi belatedly realized the man was analyzing him like any trained warrior would analyze another.
"Théodred," the man said and then gestured to himself. Hmm…
"Kakashi" he gestured back to himself before bowing his head slightly in difference. The man was some sort of leader, perhaps he ordered a contingent of men, this contingent of men outside the tent. The man nodded in return.
Théodred, as he assumed the man was called, then gestured to his own head with an almost concerned look, "Does your head ache still?" Kakashi blinked and tried to reason what the man was referring to. The young leader frowned and shifted awkwardly before he began gesturing to his own body in various places—even wincing for show when he gestured to his arm, "Do you hurt anywhere?"
Kakashi tilted his head to one side. Given he was in the healing tents, and the man's non-hostile and worried actions, Kakashi deduced Théodred was asking about his wounds. Kakashi shook his head, though that made him wince slightly as his brain felt like it was sloshing back and forth at the movement. He even pitched forward slightly as his head spun.
The young man's eyes widened suddenly, "I will retrieve the healer!" The man was panicking and then running out of the room. Kakashi could only guess he was getting the doctor for the young man was clearly a warrior and not a medic. Kakashi for his part breathed slowly and eased himself back down into a lying position. The odd, spinning, sloshing feeling abated, as did the nausea which came from the sensations.
The young man came back with the healer who immediately went to the water basin. Kakashi tensed and tracked the new man's movements as he retrieved a rough spun cloth. The healer then set the cloth on Kakashi's forehead and it felt good for a moment. The young man stayed in tent until someone yelled outside the tent and he quickly got up. The healer also hurried out of the tent. Given the underlying feeling of panic and fear from those two and the sudden cacophony of voices and horse hooves, Kakashi deduced people had come back injured.
He slowly sat up again and even swung his legs over the side of the cot. He felt so old and weak in that moment, but he pushed through the pain and fatigue to shakily stand up. He made it to a chair in the room before he collapsed. Kakashi already knew his weapons were not in the room, so he didn't bother moving around to do a more thorough search. A few moments later, several men came into the healing tent with injured men limping alongside them or in their arms.
The healer was surprised to see him sitting, but Kakashi gestured to his now empty cot and the injured men. Théodred also noted this gesture when he assisted someone else into the room. All of the men entering the tent had fair hair and they gave Kakashi distrusting looks, yet they did not protest his presence.
Soon those assisting the men were reporting to Théodred, so Kakashi was correct to assume the young man was a leader. From what he could guess based on the state of the injured and the adrenaline still coursing through the other men, there was an ambush. It took him a while of listening, but he believed he understood who the enemy was: "wild men," it was repeated often and with an accompanying sneer or curse. Body language, intonation, and connotation all helped him to get the gist of what had occurred. He was trying to figure out the structure of the language but he could not quite figure it out. However, the more he tried to work on it, the more his head ached. He eventually just closed his eyes and blocked out the noise as best he could. Before long, he had even fallen asleep.
…
Théodred passed in the night. The news passed through Edoras like a fast moving storm cloud. Éomer had ridden off with men for "patrol" once more, even though King Théoden told him to stay and guard Edoras. He knew Éomer would meet up with the men already out in the West fold, and they would take down those Orcs who had done this. Kakashi watched the horses until they were past his sight, and then Kakashi left the walkway.
Éowyn was likely dressing the body and saying prayers. She would have been the one to inform King Théoden of the young man's passing. Perhaps the King would be lost or feel nothing because of whatever was wrong with him? However, Kakashi made for Théodred's resting place as dinner was served within the Long House.
It was an easy matter to get into the building undetected, even without using chakra—or at least miniscule amounts. He was quiet and agile. Kakashi also knew where people would not look, and so he was within the room soon enough. Théodred was dressed in his armor, and it had been polished to a shine. He was almost blue he was so pale, and the gangrenous wounds smelled even from Kakash's safe distance away.
The kid, because that was what Théodred was in the end, didn't deserve such an end. He had been slowly dying as his blood turned toxic and his wounds festered. It was a slow, agonizing death. Théodred should have lead his people in his father's stead; he should have gotten married and had a family—perhaps with that one girl he always eyed fondly when he passed through the streets? Why did the better people die first? Why did Kakashi live on when other's should have?
He should be past such thoughts, but he wasn't. Rin, Sensei, Kushina-san… Gai… Tenzo…now Théodred. The kid was good; he was smart. Kakashi recalled the boy teaching him Common and his own native tongue while Kakashi was recovering. He remembered the young man wondering what Kakashi could do with his knives, and Kakashi proceeding to pin a horsefly to pole in the tent. The kid was eager to show Kakashi his men, and he shared stories Kakashi barely understood about his men's feats. He was proud of his men's accomplishments and his men loved him. He remembered the kid asking him about his world, asking him about the people he had led. Unlike Éomer, Théodred recognized Kakashi's leadership capacity almost immediately. While the other men saw a fellow soldier, Théodred saw more.
Heh…the kid helped convince his father to let Kakashi stay in Edoras. Kakashi remembered how the young leader would visit Kakashi in his hovel of a home. They would talk before the fire about hard decisions, battlefield choices, and matters of governance. The boy asked him what he missed about his home, and why he could not return. Of course Kakashi was not always forthcoming, but Théodred had been a friend here. The kid had also kept Éomer and the other soldiers from killing him or sending him off to die in a land he knew nothing about.
Kakashi moved closer to the corpse. "Rest in peace," Kakashi whispered, "I will not let Rohan fall."
Kakashi could hear footsteps approach and knew dinner must be over. He would do what he could; he would fight in Théodred's memory, and perhaps he might finally be with all those he had lost over the years. One final war and perhaps he too would have peace?
TBC
A/N: So…Kakashi has limitations. I am sure people are upset, but I don't want him curb-stopping middle-earthlings, and the Two Towers, to me, is about how the bleakest of situations can be moments of growth, resistance, and unity. I don't want Kakashi to just rescue everyone because the Battle of Helm's Deep is supposed to be a dark and desperate time. I hope my choice and direction is acceptable, even if it might seem extreme. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter ~ with love, depressedchildren.