Crusade

by arctapus

What would happen if Frodo had failed? What would become the fate of the world then?

4. Chapter 4

=0=

He slipped in and found his place in the bed, his wife sleeping silently beside him. He closed his eyes, sighing softly, the duplicity of his actions throbbing in his conscience. He turned and faced the door, curling up slightly, unwilling to touch Celebrian lest he disturb her. He didn't want to awaken her, fearing her questions and so he lay on his side and waited for dawn.

***************In another place ...

"It is not what I expected."

Elladan glanced at his brother, his cool gray eyes considering him thoughtfully. "We are not meant to be here as long as the world is in chains. When it comes time to go back, I will do my duty."

"Mother looks well," Elrohir replied. "I am glad to see the two of them together again. It has been so very long."

Elladan nodded. "I am too. But the King ... he worries me.""Do not let it disturb you. The marriage bands are not to be taken lightly. And all of that was ages ago, when there were less obligations and diversions in Father's life."

"Maybe," Elrohir replied, shaking his head. "It is all too strange for me to be among the people who for me were only names on parchment for the whole of my life."

"I know," Elladan replied. "Our grandfather ... who would have believed that we could know our family from the Elder days?"

Elrohir smiled, nodding his head. "I know," he said, turning to go. "I am hungry."

"You are *always* hungry," Elladan said, clapping his brother on the a grin, they continued in, heading for the kitchen and a late night meal just the two together.

**************In Middle-earth ...

"I lost track of you in the fighting," Legolas said, smiling at his friend.

Gimli grinned. "I was busy. What of you? What about all of this?"

"We fled here, those of us who could and we have been gathering people everywhere we could. It is the last refuge for us here in this world and I fear that it will not stand long when the demon gathers his strength at last."

Gimli nodded, shifting to lean back against the side of the cave. "And you? What have you learned about your family?" He asked tentatively, watching the play of emotions on the normally serene face.

"I have heard very little. They burned our home and the people retreated westward, apparently making it across relatively unscathed. At least as far as I can find out." He paused a moment, staring at the sky. "I do not know about individuals. I just hope that they are alive and well."

Gimli nodded, uncertain about what to say. "I am sure they are safe. Your father is a redoubtable man. He would have made it happen."

Legolas smiled, staring at his hands, picking at the calluses on a finger. "I hope so, Gimli," he said, looking at his friend with a smile.

Standing nearby, pausing before entering the cavern, Eomer watched them, sitting near to each other, heads bent together as they talked. A frisson of anxiety hit him, searing through his gut. He watched them, old friends and colleagues and considered what it might mean. He wasn't sure what they had, the two of them together, but he had come to depend upon it. With a silent sigh, he turned away and went inside.

***************Nearby ...

"You seem pensive."

"I am tired. It was a shock having you come back."

Boromir nodded, staring at his brother with a knowing expression. "I am at wits end to know that you are alive and by my side. I did not dare to hope, for hope has forsaken us, brother."

Faramir nodded, staring at the toe of his boot. "I have only the hope of each day rising. There can be little beyond that, this small begrudged cadge of hours. Yet I hope somehow, in some unknowable way, that there can be more. I hope so for more than just myself."

"You and Aragorn, you are close?"

Faramir nodded, glancing at his brother. "We were together on the battlefield and the retreat brought us into close quarters. From there one thing led to another and we are here, fighting against the Enemy as best we can."

Boromir nodded, considering his next questions. "He is admirable, that one."

"Aragorn?" Faramir asked, looking at his nodded. Faramir sighed and leaned against Boromir's shoulder. "He is a very worthy man."

"I must ask you and you know me ... I am not a man of subtle ways."

Faramir nodded, sitting straighter, his arm around Boromir's shoulders. It was silent a moment."

I must ask if there is more than comradeship between you and Aragorn. I must ask if there are ... feelings between you."

Faramir looked at his brother, struggling for the right kind of answer, unclear on Boromir's mind on such a subject. "I ... why do you ask?"

"I thought I saw more than brotherhood between you," Boromir said, taking his brother's hand. "I just was curious, that is all. I am concerned about you because you are my brother."

Faramir nodded, laying his head on Boromir's shoulder. "I esteem him above all others and accept his love with gratitude and joy. I give him my own and hold him close in my heart."

"Then you are more than comrades ..."

Faramir thought a moment and then sat straighter, staring at his boot once more. "I am his lover."

It was silent a moment and then Boromir nodded, the pounding of his heart shrill in his ears. "That is something for me to digest."

"You do not approve." Faramir didn't look up, afraid to see disappointment in the eyes of his brother.

"I did not say so," Boromir replied."

Please don't," Faramir said softly, glancing up with anxious eyes. "I am filled with weariness, Boromir. I hang on day-to-day sometimes but I must be strong, for it helps him and the others. That is a heavy burden for me to bear all-in-all of late, such is the state my feelings following the death of our kingdom. I am struggling to revive my heart and your return does me more good than I can express. Yet I am filled with disquiet. Do not take from me what comfort I can find with your disapproval."

Boromir took his hand and squeezed it, nodding. "Very well."

Faramir exhaled tiredly and rose, pulling Boromir to his feet. "Come. I will show you your bed."They walked past hobbits and men and elves and when they entered the cavern it was quiet again.

***************A short time later ...

He moved to the side of the bunk, staring down at the sleeper. Then he knelt, placing a hand on the chest of the occupant. Eomer opened his eyes, blinking as he looked over and stilling as he saw Legolas in the dim light of a torch. For a moment they didn't move and then Legolas turned, sitting on the bunk and tugging off his boots. Moving backward, he stretched out, settling his back against his lover while Eomer spooned behind him and enveloped him in his was silent a moment and Eomer took Legolas' hand, squeezing it in his own as his anxiety receded a little.

***************Morning in another place ...

He ate with his family, sharing small talk and when he excused himself, they watched him go with intense, unwavering eyes. The door closed and Elladan sighed, looking at his brother for a moment. Then he smiled and rose, excusing himself, leaving the room and walking down the corridor.

He paused and stepped back into a shadow as ahead, Gil-galad and Elrond were talking King was very close, his fingers entwined through his father's hair and then he leaned forward and kissed him possessively and well. He felt ice pierce him and his feet were rooted as he stood watching as the King had his way. Then they turned and walked on, moving out of view but Elladan stood a long while staring, coldness filling his heart as he digested what he had seen.

***************At a meeting ...

Celeborn sat, his fingers steepled and waited for the rest of their council to arrive. They would have to move Thingol, getting him to agree to the plan. That would be monumental for there were few among them so entrenched in the past. He had been angry enough to ban Quenya from being spoken in the world of his control, which was pretty much everywhere at the time and it had faded to become merely an ornamental language. A few spoke it in private, mostly traditional Noldor, but it had fallen from common use under his command.

Now they had to woo him, to bring him into the picture or Ingwe would not go to Manwe with their plea with the blessings of other chieftains. They would have to win this one to make it easier for the Vanyaran Lord to secure enough of his brothers to make it work. He sighed, considering the lovely days of life in Doriath and the love that Galadriel had for Melian. She would be key, the one to appeal to and so it would be as they waited for Elrond. All of the others were there but Elrond and the King and he considered that pairing, another relic from the past.

It was sensible that things would intersect, that the past and present would stand side-by-side here in this land of second chances. He was considering all the miracles he himself has encountered, his parents and long gone friends and felt the divided loyalties that surely plagued Elrond. He knew that the King and Elrond had been lovers and that his son-in-law's inclinations were probably toward men. But he had married his only child to the Elf he felt would be best positioned to give her the life he had hoped for her to have in the uncertain world where they had children between them, they had honor and years but there was a tension here that could only come from the past. Elrond was with his deepest and most passionate lover and it could bode no goodwill when the crisis was resolved. He pushed that away as he considered Thingol and the difficulties they faced. Nothing could detract from the road ahead.

The door opened and Elrond entered, followed by the King and they took their seats in the circle of friends. For the next four hours they would debate and conference and at no time during the meeting did they not rue Gandalf's absence.

***************In the mountains ...

The patrols stood out, moving like ghosts in the early morning dawn. Eomer and Legolas led their own, Gimli in tow. Others of Gondor and Rohan and scattered places left on their way to the battle that lay in the flat lands nearby. Faramir stood with Boromir watching the sunrise. They would go with Aragorn and see to the incursions at the river. Scouts of the enemy had been coming, stirring through the forest fringe and they were worried that their sanctuary would no longer be his bow and quiver he strapped it firmly in place and turning to Boromir, smiled. "We begin again."

Boromir smiled and clapped Faramir's shoulder. "As ever we did."

Aragorn came from the cavern and joined them in the clearing, men filling their ranks and then they left. Frodo and Sam watched them, big grim men moved swiftly and then it was silent as they faded away. Sam glanced at Frodo and then the woods, wondering once again where it would all end.

***************In a great house in Valinor ...

She sat in an anteroom, waiting for an audience with the Lady of the House. Her gown was white, her hair golden and for a moment the years fell away and she was just a young woman aching for adventure. A door opened and a radiant woman appeared, standing and smiling at her with joy on her face.

Galadriel rose and curtsied, her own smile blinding and then the Lady stepped forward, embracing her protege. They held each other tightly and then Melian smiled, looking Galadriel over. "You are as lovely as ever you were, Alatariel."

Galadriel laughed, the first time since the fall and smiled through her tears. "I have missed you, my Lady. All the sad years that have deprived me of your company and counsel weigh like stones on my heart."

"Then come and talk to me, like we once did long ago and tell me of your life in the ages past."

They walked together, hand-in-hand to a room filled with flowers and sunlight. The clouds overhead parted for a moment and it seemed that time had turned backward. They sat together hand-in-hand as Galadriel of the Golden Wood poured out her heart.

***************On the trail ...

They passed through the woods, silent as cats, unseen but seeing all that moved. Beyond was the silver ribbon of the river, slicing the flatlands into two pieces. Scrub would be their only hiding places when they left the forest but it was also the only shelter for the enemy. Faramir paused and gripped Aragorn's arm. Pointing beyond, they all knelt and looked.

A thin wisp of smoke rose from a thicket of bushes, a campfire made by someone who by simple odds could not be friend. They settled down to wait, dispersing along the tree line, pausing to see if they would show themselves. The sun was hot and Boromir shifted, glancing back to look for Faramir. He was sitting on the ground, arrow made ready as he stared at the fire on the slope below.

It seemed like forever before the bushes began to rustle and three orcs stood, staring around. All along the line, bowmen made ready, fixing each enemy with the point of their arrows. Another orc rose and then two more and they made ready to continue their journey to the hills. As they stealthily moved from the bushes to the open, Faramir caught the nod from raised his bow and his arrow went flying, piercing the head of the orc who lead the group. More arrows flew and before they could make a sound, six orcs lay dead on the gravel. They sat in the trees, watching all around them and then a small team moved forward to search. They took back their arrows, pulling the carcasses down to a vine-filled defile and threw them in. In seconds they had regrouped and fallen back, the land undisturbed once more.

***************Valinor ...

"I *saw* them."

Elrohir nodded, glancing at Arwen. Arwen sat pale and pained. "We cannot let Mother know. She is so happy to have Father here."

"I *hate* him," Elladan hissed, pacing in the chamber. "He touched Father like he had the *right*."

"They *were* together for ages," Elrohir ventured, drawing a sharp look from his brother.

"Father is *married*, sealed before the Valar. You *know* what that means."

Arwen sighed and rose, coming between them. "We must not talk of this to Mother. No one must do this. I will speak with Father myself."

For a moment they didn't speak and then they nodded, identical responses and identical gestures. Then she smiled slightly and walked to the door, pausing before looking back. "You cannot treat the King any differently. He is the King of our people and that must not be trammeled." Then she turned and walked out, down to the beachhead and there she paced for the rest of the day.

***************Middle-earth ...

They found bands of orcs right away and the fighting was fierce, slaughter the general outcome of each event. They seldom lost their own people, each attack so planned to their favor but the enemy fell, orcs one-and-all. Legolas considered what it would mean with Uruks, the well-armed and smarter foes being tougher to fight. As it stood now, he thanked the Valar for the orc foe they invariably faced and moving with his patrol, made his way down the slope.

Eomer followed, his eyes ever roving as they headed for the shoreline of the silvery rolling river. Orc sign was there and they would have to clean them out, killing them where they stood whenever they were found. It soothed him, this carnage because it helped assuage the pain of not knowing what had happened to his sister in Edoras.

The thought of her falling into the hands of the Enemy was a nightmare that came to him all too often. He took out his rage on the necks of the enemy, praying some day to even the score.

**********In a meeting in a mansion in Valinor ...

Glorfindel entered the room, a smile on his face and he walked to the group who paused to hear him."

He has agreed to see a delegation tomorrow morning. Lord Elrond is welcomed and so is Cirdan. I have been given leave to come but no other Noldor."

Turgon nodded, smiling slightly. "No kin-slayers."Gil-galad sighed. "He bears a grudge to the grave and back again."

"That is to be expected. The only worse thing to send to see him is a delegation of Dwarves," Turgon mentioned, smiling slightly. "I am considering others that might be persuaded to join us tomorrow at the King's house. But I will not tell you in case they demur and dash your hopes before we begin."

"That would be deeply appreciated," Elrond said, nodding to his grandfather. He leaned back and glanced at Gil-galad.

"You are going because you are the son of Earendil and Elwing and he holds them in esteem," Gil-galad said, musing on his lover.

"Your parents are held by us all in esteem," Turgon said, nodding in agreement. "It would do you well to see them before much time goes by."

Elrond glanced sharply at him, his eyes narrowing. "I was not sure that could be accomplished."

"Why not?" Turgon asked.

"I do not know," Elrond replied, shifting in his seat. "I do not understand how he sails and if it means that he comes here when the night is over. I am unclear of much."

"You are," Turgon said. "They come here at the break of dawn and they are here all day. You must go and see them, Elrond. It would do you all a good service."

Elrond nodded numbly, a task he had filed away as impossible beckoned him onward. Glancing at Gil-galad, he rose from his chair, pausing uncertainly as he stood. Gil-galad rose and took his arm."Do you wish company, brother?" he asked.

Elrond looked at him, uncertainty written large on his face. "I would," he replied. "Please."

=0=

"Here. Drink this."

Elrond took the proffered glass and sipped it, feeling the burning liquor slide down his throat. His hands felt tingly, rather like the aftermath of electrical shock and he sat light-headed and suffused with dread.

"You look very pale," Gil-galad said, fussing as he sat next to his lover. "Perhaps you need to lie down."

"I ... just give me a moment," Elrond stammered.

It was silent a moment and then the King reached out and pressed a stray lock behind Elrond's ear. The Peredhel looked at him, holding his glass in his hand and seemingly unaware that he was doing so. Gil-galad removed the glass and moved closer, stroking Elrond's face with the back of his hand. "Are you going to be all right?"

"I ... I have gotten used to the idea that I am alone essentially, estranged from that part of my life over which I had no control," Elrond said, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat. "I cannot give myself any hope of things being different. My brother is always be gone from my life. It is as if I have been cleft in twain, so bitter was that parting from me. I have lived an entire life knowing that my parents would never be in it and now I am told that this is not true." He swallowed and rubbed an eye. "My father sailed to find his parents. They were never found. Are they here? Who else among my dearest kin is here?"

"Dior," Gil-galad replied. "He is here. So is his wife, your grandmother. Your father, mother and his parents also. Tuor and Idril are here, long here. It is the biggest relief of Turgon that he can have his daughter near to him again."

"He said nothing to me," Elrond replied, painfully."He has not told you as I have not told you. There is little time, my brother. We have to make our way to rescue the world and leave personal matters to later and better times. It is the curse of our station."

"They *could have come* to see me," Elrond said, images of his brother as a child filling his mind. "I know I am ... my rational mind agrees with ... with your words but my mother and father *should* come to me. They should ask me to tell them of Elros." Elrond looked at Gil-galad with eyes filled with tears and misery. "How can they ever know about Elros? There are no words for him ..." He fell silent and stared at the floor and then with characteristic strength of will he gathered his emotions together. "It must come later," he whispered sadly.

"It will, melme," Gil-galad replied. "I swear to you on the lives of my mother and father that you will see them again."

It was quiet in the room as they sat together, Elrond telling tales of his brother as a child. Gil-galad smiled and listened, nodding and adding details of his own as they sat together in the privacy of the empty room.

***************On the trail ...

They made their way along the riverbank, hugging the shrubs and scrub brush. Old tracks of orcs led to the river but they would find no game to hunt today. Eomer stood on a rock and peered into the distance, seeing nothing moving on the plain beyond. He climbed down and rejoined the group, resting on rocks in a small recess in the cliff side."

Nothing on the other side," he said to Elf nodded and rose to stand. "We had better move back then. The night will be coming and I do not like the open when the stars are out."The clouds had broken and the sun was shining, an added warmth and a welcomed sight. They rose and moved away, heading back toward their own lines and in seconds they were gone without a trace.

***************In Lothlorien ...

He sat on his chair, watching the water dripping off the eaves of his shelter. In the morning he would leave for Mirkwood. The forest kingdom was his as well and he wanted to spend time perusing his acquisitions. Lothlorien would become the domain of spiders, the filth of the south forest could have this bastion him, scurrying to pack up their things, orcs moved with haste. He himself sat in splendor, garbed in rich clothing, his evil visage topped by an iron crown. He was the diminished echo of Melkor, a parody written smaller of the greatest and most evil menace that the world had ever seen.

"My Lord."He turned his dark eyes, the piercing gaze that could not be sustained and nodded.

"He has been located. Our people are seeking to bring him to you."

Sauron nodded, filled with satisfaction that such news could be given. "I want him brought to Mirkwood, to the house of Thranduil. Do it as soon as can be accomplished."

The orc nodded and bowed low, scurrying out into the dim and smoky forest beyond. Sauron smiled, considering the things that Saruman would suffer because of his treachery. Sitting back, filled with contentment, he considered what he would do with the Wooded Realm.

***************Morning ...

He rose, considering the task before them. He had risen early enough to elude his family, preferring silence to prepare for the problem at hand. It was a two-fold ordeal, this meeting with Thingol. First, there was the problem of getting his support against Sauron. That would be difficult and he prayed he was up to the task. Secondly, he would be meeting his great-great-great-grandfather and grandmother. That part was daunting, this familial and Beren. They were names in his family tree but nothing more than that until now, merely delicious and inspiring tales to be read as a youth. But the idea that he could touch any of his family, to make real any of the names didn't seem possible. Sure, he could come here. Sure, it would seem reasonable that many, if not all of them would be released at some point from Mandos Halls. However the idea of actually *seeing* them was something he could not gather into any reasonable frame of reference, the actuality of it was still too new.

His parents has been the shadows of his existence, people he could barely remember, whose good name he had tried to carry forward on his own shoulders. They had done everything they could to make peace and to end war and he had always been spurred to follow their example. The years of captivity, of living with the enemy had moderated him and made him almost clinically rational about any number of things. You did what you had to do in your acceptable code of conduct and guarded your innermost core, ensuring a future of your own choosing at some point in time. He had done that and for all of his illustrious life, he had tried to conduct himself in a way that would make his parents proud.

Now he could see them, how, he didn't know. But he would when the time came and he could put aside this new burden. Pausing by the window, he stared at the rough and steel-gray sea and wondered once again how many of those he knew still lived. Filled with determination, he turned and walked to the door, heading for the courtyard and the horse ride to Thingol's in a window, their gray eyes ever on him, his children watched as he mounted his horse. Cirdan was with him, Glorfindel, Erestor and others who would ride with him in his honor. Ever by his side, resplendent as befitting a monarch, Gil-galad of the Noldor had pride of place.

***************On the trail ...

They ate their hard tack, sipping water and resting as the sun continued its journey toward home. Faramir sat beside his brother, leaning against his shoulder, immensely gratified to have him there. Boromir smiled, handing his canteen to his brother and turned then his gaze upon Aragorn nearby. He was kneeling beside Halbarad, his kinsman and his comrade and talking together in a low tone about the trail studied the rangy figure who loved his brother and wondered what could have happened that this should be so. Faramir was gentle, kind and courtly with wonderful manners, yet he had never known that he had infatuations of any seriousness. He was beloved by many, his qualities admired. There was no lack of opportunity for the son of the Steward. Yet Faramir had not taken anyone into his heart, preferring solitary pursuits, driven by their father to be something he probably wasn't. Faramir had become a Ranger of great skill, with a military mind for maximizing resources while minimizing risks.

Boromir had noticed with enormous satisfaction that his men loved Faramir greatly, even as he, Boromir was loved. They were a good match, these two different personalities and Faramir was his closest friend, the only one who he would confide to over any serious the older brother, he had worries of his own. Their father had faltered in his reign and so the burden had fallen ever heavier upon his shoulders. He had picked it up manfully, doing the best he could tempering his stubborn hot-headedness against the seriousness of the situation that had become their last duty to defend.

In the end they had fallen, the city in flames, their father most likely slain, sword-in-hand. Now they had only each other, the two of them miraculously finding each other alive and for that Boromir would ever be grateful.

"What are you thinking?"

He glanced at Faramir. "Just ... everything and nothing. You?"

"I was thinking it would be good to be gone from here before dark. I am filled with foreboding."

Boromir glanced at him, more than aware of his foresight. "What do you see, brother?"

"Nothing specific," Faramir replied, resting his head on his brother's shoulder. "Just a foreboding, that is all."

Boromir nodded. They sat together a while longer and then they all rose and melted into the woodlands once more. Behind them, the river was a silver strip sparkling as it paralleled the mountains, the dividing line between the lost world and the free.

***************On the road ...

They rode together, a dazzling sight of lords traveling in formal splendor to greet other lords of great power, not that common a sight in these parts in spite of things. Elrond sat straight, his eyes taking in the beauty of the world that would be theirs forever. The journey to Thingol's mansions was a long one and they would be in the saddle for many hours. By the time they reached the home of the great lord, lunch would have been had on the trail.

Gil-galad rode beside Elrond, Glorfindel and the others behind as banners snapped in the crisp morning breeze. Cirdan was slightly to Elrond's left and rode silently, his mind occupied by many things. The King sighed, sitting as straight as an arrow, well aware of the import of the moment on all.

Thingol was Elrond's grandfather, three generations removed, the father of Luthien and the grandfather of Dior. He hoped that Dior would be there as promised, adding another edge to the game they would play. Thingol was a stern man, a hard man about his honor but the state of the world could move him if it were put to him correctly. He hoped that Elrond would be able to pull out another miracle and make things happen that he, himself, for many reasons couldn't even ask.

They rode together, clouds drifting across the sky, blotting out and freeing the sun on her journey. Far away in lands uncounted the shadow of Mordor made its inexorable way.

****************Night fall ...

They arrived at the cavern, weary and hungry. Aragorn paused at the door to gather reports. Many more orcs were seen and many of them neutralized by the skill and surprise of the roving patrols. The only way they would be able to breach the rebel defenses would be to do so in force. They were sure it would come eventually to that but for now they would hold the enemy to a line of demarcation and hope for the best, even as they knew they had no future ahead.

Boromir paused by the door, Halbarad with him and watched as Faramir excused himself and joined Aragorn. They stood together, their arms almost touching and Boromir wondered again at the enigma of his brother. Turning, he grinned. "I'm bloody hungry."

"You read my mind," Halbarad replied with a smile.

They turned and entered the cavern, finding food and drink, eventually making room at the table for Aragorn and Faramir. They made no mention of the news, at least while they were eating and when Eomer and Legolas arrived, listened to their reports.

"Then the enemy is making incursions south of us. They must be making for Orthanc," Aragorn mused.

"I suppose it could be a fortress from which to rove out," Faramir replied. "But it is a drowned and useless thing without enormous amounts of work."

"They could do it," Boromir ventured. "Of course, it would mean drawing away orcs that otherwise could fight."Aragorn nodded, smiling at Frodo, who brought him something to drink as he served others. The hobbits had made themselves useful, cooking meals and taking care of things that the soldiers were too weary or untrained to do. The level of the cooking had risen greatly and morale had been improved among the men. The hobbits were glad to be useful and were very diligent, earning the friendship of the troops as they came and went.

Aragorn watched Frodo, pleased with his healthier complexion and then turned and gave his attention to the matters at hand. "They are probing our defenses and we must be diligent. If they find a weakness they will come through in force."

The others nodded, resolving to do their best because more than that was out of their hands. Faramir sipped his ale, thinking about summer in Minas Tirith when he was a young man. Then he turned and looked at Aragorn, stilling for a moment for even though he was talking, Faramir couldn't hear his voice. He looked at the others, seeing but not hearing and then his vision turned to black.

For a moment he just sat there and then he rose, his vision clearing once more. They were all sitting around the table talking together, but there was no chair for him to sit and they didn't notice him standing there. He stared at them, unreality suffusing him and then he turned and walked toward the cavern door and the yard just beyond. He stood by the opening, staring up at the sky, the vision of a great sailing ship clear to his stared at it, the white ship gliding through the heavens and on its bow there beamed a great light. It illuminated the darkness and pushed back his fear and weariness, giving him an enormous sense of peace of mind.

He smiled and waved his hand, although to whom he didn't know and then he turned toward the cavern and it was gone. He was standing in the alcove that was his quarters with Aragorn. The King was sitting on the bunk, his head in his hands. Faramir felt his grief and he knelt to touch him when the grip of another jolted him back.

"Faramir?"He looked blankly around, blinking, then staring into Aragorn's concerned eyes. He licked his dry lips as he gathered his wits. "I ... I am sorry. I guess I just drifted off. I must be more tired than I thought I was."

"Faramir ... did you have a vision?" Boromir asked, concern on his face.

"I just ... I just lost track of where I was," Faramir replied, rattled by the eyes that focused upon him. "I am fine, Boromir. Truly I am."

They sat a moment and then turned back to their conversation, Boromir and Aragorn giving him brief glances from time to time. When the dinner broke up and they went to rest for the morrow, Aragorn gripped his arm and steered him into their alcove. When they were inside, he grasped Faramir's shoulders, staring at him anxiously for a moment. "What did you see?"

Faramir considered his question and then sighed wearily. "I think I saw the Mariner ... Earendil. At least, I *think* I saw his ship sailing across the sky with a great light at the bow."

"The Silmaril," Aragorn replied, nodding his head, his eyes focused on Faramir's face. "And? Was there more?"

"You took my arm and I lost the vision. I just felt a sense of peace from it that I have not felt in a long time."

"Earendil," Aragorn considered, thinking through his store of lore. "I do not know what it means. But it might be something good, something you needed for yourself alone."

Faramir nodded, smiling weakly. "I cannot interpret it but it made me feel hopeful."

"Then that is good," Aragorn replied softly. He leaned in and kissed Faramir gently, pulling him in as Faramir responded. They held each other in the quiet of their alcove, the rest of the world at bay for the moment. "You must tell me when you have a vision, Faramir. I need to know what you see."

"Do you think that it matters?" Faramir asked, rubbing his cheek against Aragorn's.

"It did last time you had one," Aragorn replied. "The 'sword that was broken' ... it made a difference. It brought Boromir to the Quest."

"The Quest failed," Faramir gently reminded. Then he kissed Aragorn softly.

"Perhaps. But then perhaps as well, the Valar are trying to tell us something through your keen senses."

Faramir nodded, smiling slightly. "I will tell you, Aragorn, all that I know."

Aragorn smiled and hugged him tightly, images of his ancestor filling his mind. Tonight he would go out and wait for the night star and pray to his kinsman that something might change.

=0=

The day dawned and Aragorn rose, moving gently to rise without waking Faramir. The younger man groaned slightly, settling back once more as Aragorn walked to the basin nearby. It sat on a box and he poured the basin full, washing quickly in the cold water. He dried his face and turned, noting Faramir's eyes on him."How do you feel?" Aragorn asked, pausing for a moment.

"i feel fine," Faramir replied. He sat up, sighing deeply as he rubbed his face with his hands.

"How often do you have visions?" Aragorn asked, pulling on a clean shirt and fastening his belt.

"Not often," Faramir replied, pausing. "Well, not in a predictable way. I have had them all my life."

"It is said that your father had them," Aragorn replied.

"He did. My father could see things before they came to pass."

"Boromir? Does he have that capacity?" Aragorn said, moving to let Faramir use the basin.

"Not that I could ever tell," Faramir said, splashing his face. "He did have the first vision once, the dream that led him to Imladris. We argued over who would go and see what it meant. He won, of course. He always does. He steps in and takes hard tasks on."

"He protects you," Aragorn said gently.

"He does," Faramir replied, smiling slightly. "Then he gets hurt himself when it was my place. I fear that he will die in my place some day."

"Is that a fear or a vision?" Aragorn asked, handing him a shirt.

"Neither. Both. I do not know clearly but the idea of it has been with me a long time. It fills me with disquiet."

Aragorn turned him around and looked at him, measuring him for a moment. "You can live in fear or you can live. It seems to me that you have a great gift. Just remember it *is* just a gift and not the last word of things."

Faramir smiled and slipped his arms around Aragorn's neck, relaxing as Aragorn hugged him tightly. "I have a vision."

"You do?" Aragorn asked, swaying gently as he held his lover.

"I dream of a time when we can be together and the threat is not upon us."

"What do you see?" Aragorn asked.

"A summer's day by a lake some place. A summer's day, you and I together walking along the shore by ourselves. I dream of it, being alone with you, taking our pleasure in the comfort of a real bed."

"As do I," Aragorn replied, smiling. "Some day, if the world is not lost, perhaps we can find our way to a lake some place, a lake dappled by the sun."

Faramir smiled, squeezing him tightly and then a sound on the other side of the curtain broke the moment. Aragorn kissed Faramir quickly and then turned, stepping out to speak to someone. Faramir stood a moment and then turned, his eyes falling on his bunk. For a moment it was normal and then sounds faded around him. He stared at the doorway and then back at the bunk, starting at the sight of Aragorn sitting upon it. He held his head in his hands, his shoulders were sagging and then he leaned back, letting his arms fall to his sides.

He was distraught, his eyes wet with tears but he made no sound as he bitterly wept. For a moment he didn't move and then he sat up and looked at his pack, reaching into it and taking out the jewel that he had worn until Faramir's enquiry. He stared at it and leaned down, resting his elbows on his knees. He pressed the jewel against his face, gasping with misery and then rose, walking toward the curtained door.

He passed it and walked out, the cavern filled with sleepers and Faramir followed him, his disquiet growing. Aragorn walked into the clearing in the front of the cavern and stared at the sky, at the brightest star above. He looked at the jewel, the brilliant silver token and then at the sky and the star above.

"Why!" he called out. "How *can you* stand by? Is there not enough that are *dead* without -" He didn't continue, bringing his hands to his head and then he fell to his knees in despair. "How am I to go on? How can I go on? How much blood do you have to ignore before you hear our despair? How can you sail the sky and not hear our lamentations?"

Faramir walked to Aragorn and knelt in front of him, staring at him with anguish. The jewel was in Aragorn's hand and the sorrow of bitter tears on his face and he didn't know what it meant. He reached out but he couldn't touch Aragorn's face, the older man sitting and weeping without a sound.

Faramir rose and looked at the heavens, the ship once more sailing through the midnight sky. A bright light shown like a beacon in the darkness and the soft sound of words whispering filled his head.

"What would you give up?"

The words echoed through him.

"What would you surrender for the salvation of those you love?"

He turned to Aragorn but he was no longer there, the walls forming around him of their living alcove. He turned around, staring frantically about until he paused, his heart pounding in his chest. The pack was lying by the bed and he longed to take the jewel. He wanted to take it and fling it away some place where Aragorn couldn't find it. What it meant to him, Faramir didn't know but it felt doomed somehow and therefore dangerous.

"Faramir."He turned, pausing to stare at Aragorn, who stood half in the alcove. "Are you all right?" he asked, his eyes darkening with worry.

"I am fine," Faramir said. "I was thinking I need to trim my beard."

Aragorn smiled, rubbing his own face. "You and me both. Come. Let us eat and move out together."

Faramir nodded and moved with Aragorn into the cavern and its rising activity. They would eat together, making plans for patrols and before too much longer, they would be gone on their way. He would not tell Aragorn about his vision this time.

***************At the same time ...

"You have little to say."

Legolas stared at Eomer, slipping his belt through its loops. "You are hardly a master of debate," he replied, a smile gracing his lovely face.

Eomer smirked and rose, gripping Legolas' arm. "Neither of us are. That does not mean that words are not necessary. I think we should talk. After all, that is the only intimacy that we have not recently shared."

Legolas smirked at him, pausing and holding his gaze. "You wish words now? After all, I have given you my carnal body and you, yours. What words can do or undo that which has already transpired?"

"Do you wish to undo them?" Eomer asked, his dark eyes piercing Legolas' glib good humor.

"Not a moment," Legolas replied, his voice soft and breathy. He sighed and looked away from the heat of Eomer's eyes.

"Then what does it mean to you, Legolas?" Eomer asked, persisting with great discomfort.

Legolas turned and looked at him. "At first, it meant great surprise. I am not given to strangers, taking that which is sacred to me and handing it over with wrath and ill temper. I burned much that was harsh and intemperate in the heat of our couplings. That is what I first came to know."

"And now?" Eomer asked, stepping closer. Their chests nearly touched and Eomer slipped an arm around the Elf.

"Now?" Legolas whispered, his eyes level with Eomer's. "Now I would grieve at your loss. Now, I would be bereft of contentment, of passion and the sense of belonging again. I am adrift from my family. My people have fled to the West, yet you were there when I needed you and that means much to me."

"Do you love me, Legolas?" Eomer persisted, his lips nearly touching his lover's. "Say you love me."

"You wish that," Legolas replied, his lips brushing Eomer's, the fullness of such ripe fruit making him light-headed. "You have that."

"You love me," Eomer persisted, his hands gripping Legolas' rounded ass as he slipped his arms tightly around him.

"You have it," Legolas replied, crushing his mouth against Eomer's as the big rangy man devoured him back. Legolas groaned and pulled back, stepping away and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "Do not start what cannot be finished here and now."

Eomer stared at him, like a predator at his prey and nodded, pulling Legolas roughly into his arms again. "You are then mine?" he asked, passion as explosive as a rushing waterfall driving him to know. "Tell me then that you are mine."

"Tell me, Eomer ... tell me what your heart feels."

They stared at each other, their hearts pounding as they spoke of things neither were inclined to say to another.

"I would kill any man that laid a hand upon you, fight any duel, suffer any indignity. I love you," he said, swallowing hard as his cheeks flushed red with emotional discomfort at so public a declaration. "I do not have the words to say to you what you might be more used to hearing, but I do love you and I want you to tell me that you are mine alone."

Legolas smiled slightly, shaking his head with amusement. "That cost you a bit to tell me of your heart."

Eomer nodded, tightening his grip of his lover, pressing his groin against Legolas'. His taut trousers plagued him and he squeezed his lover until he grunted. Legolas smiled and kissed him softly, pulling back from his tight embrace. "You have that from me, Eomer of Rohan. I am yours as you are mine until the end of the world."

"That may not take long," Eomer replied with a grin, his lust-filled eyes ever fixed on Legolas' face. He longed to press him to the floor and make him moan but they had to go and so he sighed deeply in frustrated lust.

Legolas smirked and leaned in, slipping his tongue into Eomer's mouth. Eomer closed his eyes and then it was gone, the tease of it pooling in the middle of his gut.

"You are a brutal wench," Eomer said, taking his sword from his lover."

And you are a brutal rider, horse master," Legolas said, picking up his own weapons. "I assume that we are meant for each other."

Eomer smirked and followed him out, grinning to himself that this one was his alone. As they walked to the dining room, pride of possession on Eomer's handsome face, he leaned toward his lover and smirked. "You will not get an argument from me."

*********At the Palace of Thingol of Doriath ...

They entered the great courtyard, the house set up high among trees just beyond them and they turned, pausing as others walked toward them. One of them walking along with Turgon was a beautiful man, tall with long and plaited dark hair. He had eyes that looked far, directly into your soul and as they paused before them, Turgon smiled.

"You came," he said, holding out his hand.

Elrond took it, smiling weakly. "I have a well-developed conscience, Grandfather," he replied. The tall stranger smirked, nodding as he stared at Elrond, his intense gaze upon him from the moment he rode in. Gil-galad moved to one side, seeking an unobstructed view. He glanced at Cirdan, smiling for a moment and then the kingly facade fell into place.

"That will please many, none the least this goodly figure," Turgon said, turning to the tall man. "I am honored in more ways than can be counted to introduce you, Elrond son of Earendil, to Dior, your grandfather and father to your mother, Elwing the White."

For a moment Elrond didn't move, his eyes flickering from the warmly smiling face of Dior to the king and back again. Then he took the proffered hand and bowed as he grasped it, his eyes stinging with tears.

"Grandfather," he whispered around the lump in his throat and then he was enveloped in strong arms.

They stood together, dappled light filtering through gently swaying trees as grandfather met grandson for the very first. Gil-galad watched them, feeling intense gratitude that a fatherless child could know his family again. Of their life together, little was spoken of the family that had died and fled, leaving Elrond and his twin behind. He had given great thought to this in the early years of his return from Mandos Hall and had made effort to find all of Elrond's kin that were living here. He felt great emotion and deep satisfaction as he watched Elrond slowly be surrounded by family he had never known.

Dior stepped back, his hands resting on Elrond's shoulders and smiled. "You are a beauty like your mother."

"I cannot remember her," Elrond said, his voice cracking. "I cannot recall her, Grandfather."

"Then you *must* meet her," Dior said, conviction in his voice. "You must meet your parents and tell them of your life."

"And my brother," Elrond said, wiping tears from his eyes.

"And of Elros," Dior agreed, his voice wistful. He turned and glanced at his companions. "I am going with you to help with your cause. My grandfather is a redoubtable man but not without compassion, his time in Mandos a reflective and goodly thing. He loves his family and will be well pleased to meet his grandson," he said, turning to smile at Elrond, taking his hand into his own. "As well pleased as I am."

Gil-galad smiled, turning to Glorfindel, who stood beside Erestor, a smile on his face. "Then you must go, my Lord Dior. And with you goes the prayers and hopes of a world in darkness."

Dior turned to Gil-galad and nodded. "I will do my best, as shall my grandson," he said, turning and smiling at Elrond proudly. "I have been made aware by those who are knowledgeable," he said, glancing back at Gil-galad, "that he is quite gifted in a number of things."

"I cannot know who you speak of, my Lord," Gil-galad replied with a grin. He reached out and squeezed Elrond's arm. "Go and meet your kin, my brother."

Elrond nodded and turned with Dior, walking toward the winding stairs that would take them to the talan of his grandparents, three generations removed. It was as if Lothlorien had come alive again, such was the beauty and tranquility of this lovely place. Galadriel and Celeborn had patterned their own kingdom on its unique and utterly Elven grace. At the fall of Doriath, when all was lost, Melian had taken its memory with her.

Standing in the gardens, weeping for her husband, she was reunited with him eventually. They had taken their own dominion near to his brothers and had rebuilt their lovely kingdom once again. They lived there in splendor, the only part of perfection missing, the daughter they had loved more than any other thing. They kept nightingales in their house, their music soothing and a memorial to the daughter they would not see again.

Elrond climbed the stairs, walking with Dior, followed by Turgon, Cirdan and Glorfindel. They reached the top, to a room of such splendor that he had no words to describe its beauty. There were colors there that had no counterpart in Middle-earth and flowers filled the air with perfume.

A tall man was standing before a white chair by himself, the room empty otherwise. They paused and Dior smiled, leading the way and bowing with the others as they paused before him. He was tall, perhaps the tallest Elf Elrond had ever seen and the beauty of his face was beyond compare. He wore simple yet very rich garments, a silver fillet surrounding his head. His hair was thick and black, braided in long plaits that reached his waist, silver and gold thread entwined within. He stood and looked at them, with eyes so filled with wisdom that Elrond could scarcely hold their gaze.

He turned and looked at Dior, the younger Elf smiling and then stepped down, pausing before Elrond. Thingol looked at him, then he touched his face, delicately tracing the line of his jaw. Then without a word, he reached out for his grandson and gathered him into his arms. He embraced Elrond, holding him tightly, this fragment written large of his beloved daughter, Luthien.

Dior glanced at Turgon, at the third kinsman of the Peredhel and smiled, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Turgon smiled back, glancing at Glorfindel, the elder Elf drawn with emotions of his own. He had come back to Middle-earth to serve their people and had given centuries of his life to this one single person. Elrond was as his son, his beloved and only child and to see his heart healed thus was overwhelming.

The sound of nightingales sang in the branches of the trees that formed part of Thingol's house. Standing on a balcony nearby, their fingers entwined, Galadriel and Melian looked on in joy.

=0=

They reached the river, pausing by its shining embankments, the distant lands beyond peaceful under a dull haze. The sky was being devoured, this he had noticed and he wondered how long before the sun was shut out. They were going to the road to search for the enemy and hopefully they would be able to handle what might be there.

Boromir looked over his shoulder, noting his brother's composure and the grim-faced determination of Aragorn. Halbarad was with him, other Rangers and Rohirrim and they paused as they scanned the land below. "I wish Legolas were here," he whispered, a Rohirrim nodding grimly. "He would tell us better what might be hidden below."

Eomer and Legolas, with Gimli and others were going in the opposite direction to scout along the Pale. They would check in with watchers, people who stayed until relieved, who were their first line of defense against the coming tide of evil.

Aragorn glanced at Faramir, both of them nodding in their peculiar shorthand and then all of them rose and began to descend. They would scour the ground, reading the tracks and by doing so determine the level of building threat. They moved through the brush, melting into the ground cover and soon there was nothing to show they had been there.

***************In the House of Thingol ...

They sat at a table with a crystal top and drank the most unusual wine Elrond had ever taken. It tasted of sunshine and flowers, rivers and the gentle breeze of summer against your cheek. It wasn't like anything he had ever imbibed and he sipped and savored it as small talk was made.

Thingol stared at him, his gaze unwavering and then he set his glass down on the table. "You have come a long way, my grandson, to seek the intercession of the Lords of the World. That is a big undertaking even for me."

"I come on a mission of the greatest urgency, begging for the greatest empathy that can be fostered, Grandfather." He paused and swallowed. "Not all your kinfolk have found their way here. Some of them cannot come no matter what we can do. They have not been given that right."

"Turgon and Dior have told me much about your twin, my grandson. He was a goodly man, my Elros. I am beggared into great poverty of spirit in that I have and never will know him myself."

Elrond swallowed again, looking at his grandfather. "I wish you could have. I wish you had known him and then you would understand why I cannot turn away. His bloodline continues, his people continue and I have an obligation to seek respite from the terror that has engulfed them. They cannot stand alone, my lord. I beg you without shame or falseness to help us in our quest."

"You have no faith that I will?" Thingol replied, watching his grandson closely.

"I do not have hope in many things, my lord. I beg in my prayers that I am wrong but there has been so many disappointments that I do not allow myself to believe. I beg you, grandfather, to hear me and decide for yourself what is the right thing to do."

Thingol sat a moment and then he rose, holding out his hand. "Come. Walk with me."

Elrond rose and took his grandfather's hand, walking toward a wandering veranda that was made to bend around the great trunks of the trees which they lived in. They walked together until they came to a flet that overlooked a forest and beyond that a small lake. It was breathtaking, the beauty of the view and Elrond stood staring, unaware that his grandfather was watching him."This is like Doriath?" Elrond whispered, almost afraid to speak and break the spell.

"Very much. My Queen remembered our beloved kingdom and we created it again as best we could." He turned and looked at Elrond. "You remind me of my daughter and her great heart."

"The Lady Luthien lives on in my own daughter it is said," Elrond said, smiling slightly.

"So I am told." Thingol sighed and stepped closer, turning and looking out at his domain. "I have loved Middle-earth with a passion that has repaid me in death and sorrow. My daughter, my family, my kingdom ... I have lost it all including my life. We get a gift, our people, of a second chance and then it is up to us to do the right thing." He looked at Elrond, considered his profile. "What would you give up, my beloved grandson, to make right what has transpired?"

He turned and looked at his grandfather, at the light of his visage and his eyes. "I have sacrificed all my life, Grandfather. I have given all that I have."

Thingol nodded, touching Elrond's cheek. "All?"

Elrond looked down, feeling intensely vulnerable, as if the figure before him could see into his soul.

"You have a passion that is forbidden among our people. What would you give up to save the world?"

Elrond looked up, his eyes filled with pain and he knew then that his grandfather was aware of the king. Elrond stepped back, hesitating for a moment and then turned, staring out at the lake once more. It seemed so far away, so out of reach of sadness and the affairs of the world that plagued them now. He thought of his brother, of his father and his mother and of the King to whom his heart would ever belong. He stood a long time, considering in wretchedness that there was something he hadn't sacrificed that he could still give up.

Turning, his face a mask of misery, he walked to his grandfather and took his hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed it gently, his tears falling upon it as he made up his mind.

"I have something I can sacrifice ... the passion that you spoke of and I would foreswear it forever to save the world from this doom if that is what it takes."

Thingol looked at him, at the child of his children and sighed before pulling Elrond into his arms. He held him, swaying gently as he felt pride and love fill him, pride and love for this child of his Luthien.

"You would give up the King to save strangers, abandoning the one thing that you desire overall?"

Elrond looked at him, his face streaked with tears. "If that is what is needed, then I will do it."

Thingol's expression gentled, his dark eyes filled with compassion. "You are much like my Luthien with your brave and sacrificing heart. I am glad that she lives in you, my son." He sighed, shaking his head. "I cannot take from you that small vestige of happiness. What you must do about it is not my place to say. It seems our doom to love in difficult circumstances. I have spent much reflection in the sanctuary of Mando's Halls and many years here on these peaceful shores. My wife, your grandmother, is a wise woman and I have learned to take her counsels. There is a need for us to do what is right for those beyond our shores. I am not going to stand in the way of that. I am on your side."

Elrond looked at his grandfather, at the beautiful and legendary figure of his childhood and hugged him again. Thingol held him, comforting him as he considered what it would take for them to mount an expedition of this size.

***************On the trail ...

They cleared the plains, heading along the forest line, their keen eyes spotting old tracks and very little else. Orcs had come through here, traveling light and fast but that was a while ago. Farther up, closer to the Gap, they might find more activity coming down from was nearly mid-afternoon when they spotted dark figures moving along the hillside. They appeared to be trying to avoid being seen, so feared were the hit-and-run tactics of the rebels now. Faramir notched an arrow, moving toward the flank of the figures who didn't seem to see them yet.

Boromir went with him as Aragorn took the short straight path through covering brush to head them off. Men split into two parties, moving with skill and stealth, repeating for the hundredth time this very maneuver. The smell of creosote was heavy as they crept up behind the orcs, measuring their speed against the other group of hunters. Faramir was in the lead, his bow sighted on an orc and when they were within range, it sang out. It struck an orc in the neck, cutting off his squeal but others were less lucky to die that fast.

Arrows from behind and arrows from in front met them and they died before they could gather a defense. For a moment it was silent and then they came from hiding, staring at the dead as they gathered around. Faramir glanced at an orc, slaughtered and bloody and as he did, the world around him slowed down. Boromir was to his right, standing and talking to Halbarad, while Aragorn was across from him kneeling over an orc. He turned and saw a figure, black and shrilly screaming and then he saw the bow and arrow in his hands. He turned and swung his bow, hitting Aragorn full on the face, knocking him backward to fall flat against the ground. Then he turned and shoved as hard as he could, pushing Boromir into Halbarad and out of the way.

He turned, bow in hand and reached for an arrow, feeling the dull thud of the orc's dart as it pierced his chest. Beside him, their voices stretched and eerie, others fired on the beast and he fell to the ground dead. He himself stood for a moment and then he fell to his knees, staring down at the middle of his body. A big black arrow stuck out of his chest, piercing his breastbone and exiting through his back.

Aragorn sat up, his eyes transfixed on Faramir, his cheek battered from the blow of his bow. Then he rose unconcerned about any further fighting and ran to Faramir, falling to his knees. Faramir looked up, staring at him with fading eyes as blood trickled from his mouth. He felt his heart seize, then he sensed the darkness coming as he slumped forward into Aragorn's arms.

He stared at the sky, a fading blue square, the terrified eyes of his lover filling his vision. "Sacrifice," he whispered as the cold crept over him and then his spirit slipped his body and floated away.

Aragorn sat holding him, panic so violent in his mind he could hardly breathe. He had seen men die before, people that he had loved but this was Faramir and he was destroyed. He couldn't talk, he couldn't move. He couldn't breathe or think or act.

Boromir fell to his knees, gripping Faramir's hand, devastation and shocked disbelief on his face. He looked at Faramir and things fell away inside of him, so he rose and pulled his sword from its sheath. He turned and walked to the orc that had killed his brother and with a maniacal rage hacked him to bits.

Aragorn sat holding his lover, rocking him gently as he struggled to consider what to do. Halbarad knelt down and touched his shoulder, shaking his head in sorrow. "We have to go, Aragorn. There could be more."

Mad eyes greeted him and Halbarad was taken aback. "We are not *leaving* him."The others stood quietly and then Halbarad nodded, moving to cut tree limbs to make a stretcher. They would lay Faramir gently upon it, covering him with blankets and then with a distraught Aragorn in the lead, they would head north for home.

**************That night ...

They had left an hour later, Elrond making plans to return the next day. Gil-galad rode beside him, noting Elrond's silence and even though Dior and Turgon had told him of the success, he was apprehensive about his lover's demeanor. The ride back seemed shorter somehow and when they reached their temporary home, it was with relief for all concerned. Elrond hugged his wife and greeted the others, walking with them to the hall to dine.

Gil-galad ignored the hard looks of Elrond's twins, sitting in his place of honor at the long rectangular table. Dinner was served and then questions were proffered, dozens asked and dozens answered. The dinner finally wound down and the party moved to the sitting room where all of their conferences were held thus far. Wine was poured and they all sat together, the specter of war their next ordeal.

"Who will go to the King, then?" Elladan asked, sitting next to his mother, holding her hand.

"We will go, that is, Celeborn, myself," Turgon replied, "Elrond, Dior and Thingol King."

"This is remarkable," Galadriel said with a smile. "I have not been this filled with relief in ages."

Elrond smiled slightly. "He is a remarkable man, Thingol."

"He loves family, especially those of his daughter," Turgon replied. He is a tough man, our Thingol."

"His word is enough for Ingwe. And perhaps out of this moment something that needs forgiving can be put to rest,"

Glorfindel said, glancing at Elrond. "I would hope so."

"And I," Dior said, shaking his head. "If I can make some accommodation to what transpired, then there are few to say otherwise."

"Have *you*, Grandfather?" Arwen asked.

He looked at her, at the image of his mother and smiled. "Mostly. It is like all hurts. You do what you can each day."

"I expected it to be harder," Elrohir replied. "I expected Thingol to make it harder."

"You have never been to Mandos," Dior replied. "You cannot come out until you find a way to live with your past. Thingol is a hardheaded figure but he is a man who spent a lot of time thinking over his life. That cannot be discounted."

Elrohir nodded and then smiled. "When will we get to see our grandmother? When can we see Elwing and Earendil?"

Dior glanced at Elrond and shrugged slightly, smiling for a moment before sipping his wine. "That is yet to be seen."

***************At the encampment ...

They came in late, the sun only hours away and when the word of Faramir's death reached them, they were waiting in silent groups, standing in the light of torches. They moved through the group, Boromir and Aragorn holding the ends of the stretcher as they had for most of the journey back. They carried Faramir inside and put him on the table, Aragorn staring at his body in a daze.

Someone had cut the arrow off, the fragment remaining slipping in out of sight. His face was ghostly, his eyes staring and Boromir gently closed them again with his hand. He leaned down and kissed Faramir's cheek and Aragorn felt himself breaking apart.

"He ... he needs to wash his hands," Boromir stammered, shock still shadowing his face. "I think he needs to wash his hands," he repeated as Frodo started and hurried to get water and cloths.

They stood in mute silence, struggling to comprehend the calamity that had overtaken them when Frodo reappeared with a basin and a cloth. Boromir looked at him uncomprehendingly and then he took it and set it on the table by his brother's body. For a moment, he just stared at it and then he took the cloth, dipping it in the water and turning to his brother. With the gentlest touch he would ever bestow in his life, Boromir of Gondor washed his brother's face for the last time.

Aragorn stared at them, at the enormity of his loss and turned, stumbling into the alcove they had shared. He sat on the bed, his head in his hands and wept like he had never wept before. Sam stood by the door, feeling rather than hearing the searing sadness of his friend and comrade. He closed his eyes, a tear trickling down his cheek as he remembered the kindness they had encountered in Ithilien.

He glanced at Frodo, standing to one side of the table and they looked at each other, their thoughts the same. If they hadn't failed, this would never have happened and Faramir would be alive this day. Sam looked away, unable to bear the sadness and sat by the door of the alcove. He could offer little solace to anyone around them but if Strider needed Sam, he would be there not matter what he needed or when.

***************Nearing Mirkwood ...

He walked in chains, his mind rent with terror, stumbling through the mud and dirt as they ran overland. Behind him, also chained, his accomplice scurried, more weary than he had ever felt before. They had been found by a party of foraging orcs and had been taken prisoner to Sauron when they realized who they were. He had hoped they would just kill them instead of taking him to the Demon and his mind twisted with the horrors he expected to face.

They hurried down the Old Forest Road, veering off on the road that would take them to Thranduil's seat of power. Farther to the southeast, it was already beginning as big spiders began to move into Lorien. They would have the southern wood but could come no farther as Sauron expected to keep this domain his hurried through the wet grass and stumbled over the rocks as the orcs dragged them closer and closer to their doom.

Grima Wormtongue was already rehearsing the arguments that he would give to Sauron in a bid to save his life. He would switch his allegiance or whatever it was he gave his master to the evil beast who had them now. Saruman was on his own, the old stupid bastard and Grima would be hung before he would die for the wizard's sins.

***************Late at night ...

He had sat on his bunk for hours, ignoring the pleas of his friends to eat and rest. Nothing could save him from his sorrow now. His friend, his companion, his lover ... the one that he had come to love and depend upon was gone in the blink of an eye. For a moment futility and precarious hopelessness overtook him and he cast around his alcove for a token of comfort. Nothing was there but Faramir's bow and small bag but he didn't have the heart to look inside.

He reached for his pack and pulled out the jewel, the one she had given him long ago. He stared at it, at the loss it encompassed and pressed it against his face in searing anguish. Then he rose and stumbled out, hurrying through the crowds of sleepers until he got outside. He moved to the middle of the small cleared yard and stared at the sky above.

"Why!" he called out. "How *can you* stand by? Is there not enough that are *dead* without -" He didn't continue, bringing his hands to his head and then he fell to his knees in despair. "How am I to go on? How can I go on? How much blood do you have to ignore before you hear our despair? How can you sail the sky and not hear our lamentations?"

Halbarad stood in the doorway, near to him stood Sam and they watched him until he staggered once more inside.

=0=

"Do not go near to him. Let him grieve."

Legolas pulled his arm free and moved past Eomer, pausing for a moment beside where Boromir sat. He looked up and nodded, gripping Faramir's hand in his own as he sat in a miasma of searing pain. Legolas shook his head, unable to articulate what he wanted to say and then moved onward, pausing outside the alcove that was Aragorn's. Halbarad looked at him, shaking his head.

"He has not come forth since this happened nearly two days ago. He has not eaten nor slept."

"Were he more of Elf kind he would be dead of sorrow."

Halbarad nodded and Legolas pulled the curtain back, entering to see him sitting on the bunk, hunched over his misery. Food on plates sat nearby but it wasn't touched. Legolas walked over and knelt, placing a hand gently on Aragorn's knee. Eyes looked up, eyes mad with sorrow and Legolas swallowed hard as he searched them.

"How may I help you now?" he asked in his gentle voice.

Aragorn looked at him and then shook his head. "You cannot."

"Then we must find a way for you to live."

"There is no living. The light of the world went out. It's going out everywhere. We are fools, Legolas, to think it could be otherwise. You should go to the Havens and flee. At least you will be alive to remember us."

"Do you think I would?" Legolas asked, moving to sit next to him.

'I cannot think. I cannot ... comprehend ... it is all too much," Aragorn replied, closing his eyes in weariness. "He had a dream."

"What kind? A vision?" Legolas asked gently.

"He said only part of it. He hid some of it from me. Maybe he foresaw this, I do not know."

"Then it was ordained."

Aragorn looked at him, fire in his eyes. "Then there *are* no gods and everything we do, everything we *believe* is a *lie*. All is *futile* and nothing we do makes any difference!" He rose and swiped the plates off his table, turning and fixing enraged eyes upon the elf. "What is there to *need* of gods if it is all planned ahead? Is this planned, this calamity that swallows us all up? What does this mean for our beliefs ... our hope? Are we all fools praying to the sky ghost, the one who we *invented* so we wouldn't be *alone*? What if you *are* right? What if it is all planned in advance and nothing we do can make it different? There *is* no hope, Legolas," he said, his voice breaking. "No hope."

Legolas rose and embraced Aragorn, holding him tightly in his arms. He felt devastation and loneliness and for a moment no hope as he held their leader weeping in his arms. Standing by the door, peering through the curtain, Eomer of Rohan watched them together. It was impossible for him to carry anymore sorrow and so he watched as detached as he could manage to be. Later, if there was one, he would fall to his knees and weep until the sky crashed to the ground. But for now he was determined to push away the darkness until that last moment of freedom when he died on his feet, Legolas by his side.

***************The next day ...

They dressed him in his best clothing, putting the few possessions that he had with him, minus a small book that Boromir kept for himself. They stood together as they carried him to a hillside and lay him into the cold damp earth. Wrapped in blankets they could ill afford, they buried Faramir of Gondor under an overcast sky. They piled rocks on him, a cairn to protect him from the winters that would surely follow their doom.

Aragorn stood silently as if etched in stone, his eyes shuttered and his pain hidden as they sang sad songs. Elf songs, man songs and a short halting poem from a hobbit with tears in his eyes all broke the unbearable solemnity for a moment. When they were done, they drifted away and left their chieftain alone on the hill. Aragorn would stand without moving for the entirety of the night and in the morning come down a changed man. Gone would be the uncertainty, the caution and the stealth. The man who would lead them had been transformed by death. He no longer feared it, this calamity of the world and he made a vow to take the fight to the enemy.

They would not just hit and run, they would destroy and rend, beginning with the tower of Orthanc in Isengard. The enemy would be denied the tower for a base, as Aragorn had deciphered that much from the palantir. They would find it inhospitable if he could manage it and their efforts in the south and the mountains walked to his alcove and closed the curtain, staring at the jewel he held in his hand. He felt nothing for it but the rage that iced his heart, so he put it back on to keep that focus intense.

He would remember Faramir's uncertainty when he had asked what it was for. Now he had a reason for continuing to wear it. It was his talisman, his token, his good luck charm and as long as he wore it he would remember to hate. He sat on the bunk and held his head in his hands as he tried not to think that he had laid the best part of himself into the cold dark ground.

**********In the courtyard of the House of Manwe ...

They had arrived separately, gathering in the courtyard of the great mansion on Taniquetil that was the home of the Lord and Lady of the World. Ingwe had arrived earlier, going into the great house to speak with his lord and friend, they stood talking together, a radiant figure came from the house. He walked down the steps, smiling broadly and extended his hand to smiled and bowed, turning to his companions.

"My Lord Fionwe, you know most of my companions, but a few," Turgon said. He turned and smiled. "This is my great-grandson, Elrond son of Earendil. You know Glorfindel and the others here gathered."

He gripped Elrond's forearm, smiling and nodding. "I am well acquainted with all but you, son of Earendil."

Elrond bowed and smiled, the whirlwind of conversations and meetings leading to this moment a blur behind him. They were at the house of the Lord of the World, Manwe, greeted by his son and his heart pounded in his ears. Behind him, standing with degrees of relaxation he felt he would never remember again, his family and colleagues stood quietly.

Erestor and Glorfindel, salt and pepper, stood side by side as ever for him. Celeborn and Galadriel, Thranduil and Oropher, Ellan and Haldir waited with enormous dignity. Behind them, talking quietly together, Gil-galad and Thingol exchanged thoughts. It was strange and unearthly being in such company in such a place but it was the last best hope of the world and her stared at his grandfather, Thingol, talking in earnest with Gil-galad and the conversations of the past few days came home again.

They had just gone from Thingol's house to dinner and from there to a private conversation in the library. They had sat quietly, Gil-galad waiting for Elrond to tell him what was on his mind. They were a jumble of thoughts and images and he had to sort through them in his own time.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^"

"I am overcome," Elrond finally said, the glass of wine in his hand forgotten.

Gil-galad nodded, gripping Elrond's hand.

"I am overcome."

Gil-galad smiled, shaking his head. "I understand. You are speechless."

Elrond nodded, looking at Gil-galad with a shaken expression. "We talked."

Gil-galad nodded, waiting.

Elrond sighed and closed his eyes a moment. "He talked to me about sacrifice. He asked me what I was prepared to give up to ensure that there would be relief for Middle-earth."

"And you told him what, melme?"

"You have not asked what he asked of me."

Gil-galad looked at him, his expression quizzical. "What did he ask you to forsake?"

Elrond looked at him, his expression filled with strain. "You."

Gil-galad looked at him, then sat back, sighing deeply. "Well, that was interesting. What if I may ask was your answer?"

Elrond drained his glass before answering. "I told him if that was the price to save the world, I would pay it."

Gil-galad nodded, looking at his lover. "You do not sell low, my brother."

Elrond glanced at him, a painful expression on his face. "He did not require the sacrifice. That I was prepared to make it was enough."

Gil-galad nodded, then drained his own glass. "I am interested, my brother ... how did he know about the two of us?"

"I believe," Elrond began, sighing, "that there are few anywhere who do not know that you and I had been together as more than King and Herald for a very long time. I also believe that there would be few places in my mind where I could hide a thought from him."

"Frightening, that one," Gil-galad replied. He leaned back, staring at the fireplace. "He is as formidable now as he was then."

"I am weary," Elrond said, gripping Gil-galad's hand tighter. "I am torn between two obligations, my lord. I do not know what to do."

"Do not do anything now," Gil-galad said. "We have many other worries to take care of." He squeezed Elrond's hand. "It may be that we have no future together. Maybe your sacrifice will be needed in another time. Let us put it aside for now."

Elrond nodded and brought Gil-galad's hand to his lips. "No matter what happens, I will never love another the way I love you."

"Then that is enough," Gil-galad said. "That will be enough for now."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^"

Elrond?"

He turned, embarrassed. "I am sorry, my lord," he said, giving his attention back to the moment at hand.

"You must focus, my friend," Glorfindel said, patting Elrond's shoulder.

"I am sorry," Elrond said. He smiled at Fionwe. "Forgive me, Lord. I am distracted over too much family. I, who have ever been alone, find myself awash in family who were only hither before names on a page. I am overcome."

Gil-galad looked at him, the word resonating between them. Fionwe smiled, glancing from one to the other. "Do not despair, my friend. Things will be all right. Take one step at a time."

Elrond smiled, nodding. "Wise advice."

"Then come into the house," Fionwe said, turning and beginning up the stairs. "Lord Ingwe is with my father and mother but you are most welcome. I am honored to escort you inside."

Elrond stared at the mansion, the heart center of the world and looked at Fionwe. He felt the others generous spirit and peace settled over him. With a nod, they walked up the steps together.

**************In the camp, three days later ...

They moved out, heading for Isengard, hoping to reduce the tower to rubble. Aragorn led them, the palantir in a bag carried on his back. They had horses this time and rode into the night, leaving before the sun came and it made hiding more difficult. They hoped to cover most of the distance in a day or two instead of the long and winding week of trekking through safer country.

He had paused by Faramir's grave, standing for a moment alone by the cairn. They waited silently until he came down from the hill, his face cold and emotionless. Eomer and Legolas were coming with them and they sat on their horses as overhead the great star continued on its journey.

They had hope that destroying Isengard would make putting forces into the south untenable and they knew that the ride would be long and hard. Aragorn climbed into the saddle and with a glance at his men, he turned and rode down the path that would take them to the back trails and the great road beyond.

Standing nearby, watching them riding, Frodo and Sam glanced up at the sky. It was filled with stars, one brighter than all the rest. It would be a relatively dark night and that would work in their favor. Sam sighed and grinned at Frodo, following him as he turned and walked into the cavern.

***************In the Halls of Manwe ...

Elrond stood silently, staring around the opulent and enormous anteroom to the great kings audience hall. Everyone was silent, expectant as one would be in such a moment and the air was filled with tension as they waited to be called inside.

Elrond wondered what they would be like, these lords of the beginning of the world. They knew Iluvatar, having seen his face and heard his voice and the mere idea of it made him feel small and insignificant. Fionwe had gone ahead, slipping through the doors, disappearing from view in the blink of an -galad stepped closer, squeezing Elrond's shoulder. He nearly jumped, turning and smiling, the King's presence worth more to him than he could articulate.

At that moment the door opened and Fionwe reappeared, walking toward them with a smile. "You may come," he said, turning and waiting as Thingol stepped forward as senior petitioner. Next came Turgon and Glorfindel, then Erestor, Gil-galad and Elrond. The others followed, all of them walking through the door into the hall where the King of the World received guests. They entered a huge room, one with the illusion of clouds and the heavens surrounding them on a gigantic ceiling that seemed more real than contrived. Two chairs, gilded and beautiful, stood alone in the back of the room, which was open, with pillars that broke the vista. Beyond it lie white capped mountains and the curve of the world, with eagles flying lazily in the blue sky. They were above the clouds and they lay like snow on the top of the sky that covered the world.

Two people waited, a woman and a man and at their side stood Lord Ingwe of the Vanyar. They crossed the glossy floor, the figures becoming more distinct, even though for the rest of their life they would not be able to describe them with accuracy. Each of them saw them, Lord Manwe and Lady Elbereth, but each of them saw them as they thought them to be. Elrond saw a beautiful older woman with a timeless expression of intense joy. Glorfindel saw a young girl, full of light and the vivaciousness of youth. They paused before them and bowed, a suffusion of peace falling over them, adding to their comfort in the presence of divinity.

Manwe reached out, raising his hand, blessing their presence before sitting down. Elbereth stood a moment and then sat, a smile of such radiant beauty on her face that Elrond found himself without words. He stood a moment and then noticed that people were waiting for him and so he came forward and bowed again.

"My Lord and Lady, I am ... I am honored to be in your presence," Elrond stammered. His cheeks felt hot from his embarrassment but when he looked at Elbereth, it faded away. He stared at her and something began, an exchange between them happening without words. It was as if all the days of his life were open and she read them like a book page by page. He wasn't alarmed, but rather soothed for he felt her love as one does a soft caress. It comforted him, for there was no other word that could describe what he felt at that moment.

"My Lord Elrond," she whispered, her smile gentle in his mind. "I am most happy to meet you in person at last."

Then the scenery changed and he was standing on a ledge looking out over the world with her by his side. He stared at the horizon, at the way it curved over and he felt a terrible urge to fly. A hand touched him, a soft and feminine hand and he turned, smiling with pleasure at the lady beside him.

"Elrond," she whispered, smiling back. "You have been a faithful servant of the Valar. We are most pleased with you, son of Earendil."

"I have never seen him, my father," he said, shaking his head.

"You will some day. Soon," she said. "What we must do now is turn back the darkness. In that endeavor, you have a part to play."

"We cannot do it alone, Lady," Elrond pleaded. "We cannot stand up to his power. We beg you for the sake of the world to come to our aid. It must be soon."

She nodded and touched his brow, his anguish falling away and when he opened his eyes, he was standing in the chamber once more. The others were staring at him, watching him intently, then all faded once more and he was back on the ledge. No one was with him and he glanced around quickly, his anxiety rising once more.

"What do you fear, son of Earendil?" a disembodied voice asked.

"I have a heavy duty, my Lord. Where are you that I might beg for your pity on the world below?"

"I see all things, my son," the voice said. "All things."

"Then you know that we are lost without you."

"I am aware of the darkness that threatens the Little Kingdom and I know that the time for reckoning has arrived. You were its messenger, Elrond of Imladris, the conduit through which freedom will return."

"What must I do?" Elrond asked. He turned and watched as an eagle flew past. It was beautiful and he watched it transfixed. "What must I do?"

"Go back to the Little Kingdom with the Army of the Powers and prepare to take back that which is lost."

Elrond stood a moment staring at the mountains and then they disappeared. He was back with the others and the room was empty, just the party and Fionwe, the Lord and Lady gone. He glanced around, unnerved and Gil-galad took his arm, steadying him.

"We are to go now," he said kindly. Turning to Fionwe, he nodded and bowed. "We are in your debt, my lord."

Fionwe nodded and smiled, watching as they walked back through the doorway. By the time they got to the courtyard, Elrond's head was paused and gathered around, Gil-galad smiling.

"What happened to you?" he asked.

"I ... I think we have what we came for," Elrond said, shaking his head.

"They talked to you alone," Ingwe replied, nodding respectfully. "We are going to war then?"

Elrond nodded, rubbing eyes. "We are going to war."

=0=