Second part of my GW/Tolkien crossover. By the way, Eressë is Solo's equivalent with Irima/Nuruhuine as Duo's. Lots of people in here are going to have Elvish names...*evil grin*

Aragorn: You should have some actual Tolkien characters in this thing. After all, it's our world.
Me: Hmmm. We'll see. Possibly Galadriel.

Anyhow, here's part 1!

Disclaimer: Not mine. GW belongs to Bandai, Sunrise, etc. Middle-earth is Tolkien's.
Pairings: Past 2+Solo, future 2+1/2X1
Rating: PG-13
Archive: If you'd like to have this, just e-mail me.

And if you give me feedback, I'll love you much!



Relenya watched from the shadows of the tiny alcove as her brother, Heir of the Nari and king in exile, moved swiftly across the hall to greet the dark-haired warrior standing in the entranceway with his head bowed in a token of respect. Her heart quickened as it always did when she saw him. Her love, her protector, the keeper of her heart. Maybe even her husband, one day. She harbored no doubts that Millanon would give them his blessing if they ever chose to unite themselves in marriage, binding their souls together for as long as they lived. And Relenya had known from the start that Heero was the only one she would ever willingly tie herself to. She would never marry anyone else.

As if sensing the intensity of her gaze, the Varyan lifted his smoldering cobalt eyes to look directly at her, some dark and unknown emotions flitting briefly through their depths before he looked away. Relenya could feel her tentative smile dying on her lips at his lack of warmth. She loved him, yes. But he had never given her any hope in return.

//Love me, Heero. I will give you my whole life, if you will just give me your heart.//

* * *

//Your pleas are useless. I will never be yours.//

Heero looked quickly away from the slender form of the princess, fighting back the wave of exasperation mixed with pity that always accompanied the sight of her. He didn't understand her fixation with him. He didn't love her, had never even bestowed anything upon her that exceeded the courtesy her rank demanded - yet she still continued with her futile pursuit. He wished she would stop and find someone else. Find someone who would actually love her back instead of pining fruitlessly for him.

He had vowed long ago that he would never give so much of himself to another person.

Heero pulled his mind away from the girl and back to Millanon, taking in his master's words with cold detachment. The Nari's long, silvery blonde hair was streaming out behind him as he paced restlessly in front of Heero, his ice blue eyes snapping in frustration.

"It's been lost? Impossible. It was hidden very carefully in Minas Tirith ages ago; no one could possibly remove it by force -"

Heero cut him off, his voice soft and empty of any emotion. "Not so. The great cities of Gondor are not what they once were. You know this as well as I do - do you find it so unlikely that the Raiders have finally managed to tear through their defenses? I don't. The cities of men have grown weak, easy targets for the savages who now stalk through the mortal lands. And bear in mind that the tribes grow stronger each year, as more hopeless orphans come to join their ranks."

Millanon shook his head furiously, a look of defeat creeping across his features. "No..."

Heero reached out to grasp his friend - and king's - shoulder. "Come. It is only a sword, after all. What can it offer you that you do not already have? You do not need it - you are strong without it."

For a moment their eyes met, then the blonde haired man turned away, his face falling into grim and sorrowful lines. "No. I am not strong, Heero, not strong in the way that you and your Varyan are. I am weak; I need the power that the tokens of my ancestors can give me." Heero could almost feel the other's rueful smile as he added softly, "It would have been far better if you were heir to the Throne of Men in my place. You can fight as I cannot."

Hearing the bitterness and defeat in his tone, Heero almost spoke up to refute his lie, to tell his friend that he had indeed found Narsil, that it was close at hand - then stopped himself. He would keep the sword for the Varyan. For the future that they would make. There was no sense in yearning endlessly for a return to an era that had ended so long ago.

He turned to go, pausing briefly at the threshold to look back. Relenya had come forward to stand beside her brother, one pale hand resting on his arm. She looked at him pleadingly, trying to catch his gaze with her own. Their eyes met for a single moment - and then he was gone.

Heero hurried through the darkened corridors of the fortress, pausing briefly before the entrance to the arms room, where they stored their weaponry. A faint glow could was streaming out from beneath the heavy wooden door, evidence that someone was within. After a moment the door opened and a slender figure slipped out, seemingly no more than a shadow in the gloom. It noticed Heero and drew a soft breath, loud in the uncanny stillness

"So. You won't give it to him?"

"No." Heero walked on, sensing the quiet presence of Muina[1] following behind him. "And none of you are to tell him about it."

One emerald eye flashed from beneath a curtain of dark brown hair. "Don't worry about us. We have already agreed to help you and to keep all of this a secret." He paused, then added softly, " We are all four of the same mind."

Heero couldn't suppress an ironic smirk at that. "Indeed. All of the Varyan, thinking and acting together. Who would have thought." He grabbed a torch from one of the iron wall brackets and started to descend a tightly coiled staircase into the bowels of the earth, the flame casting eerie shadows around him. At the bottom he turned to the left, coming to a stop before a door banded heavily with iron. He turned to look at his companion, his eyes fierce and intense. "Remember - you know nothing of this."

Muina nodded briefly in assent, then Heero unlocked the door and beckoned him in.

The underground chamber held only one thing, a sword of ancient make glimmering faintly in the torch light. Heero watched as Muina lifted it with something akin to reverence, his fingers tracing over the Elvish script in awe. "Narsil..."

"Yes. The sword of the first of the kings, lost upon the fall of the Empire. Stolen by Raiders when Minas Tirith was invaded. And now I have brought it back - for us."

Muina held it for a moment longer, then handed it over to Heero, a flash of reluctance darting across his face. "I take it that you're not going to leave it here."

"No. I'm taking it to Imladris at once. I should have left already, but our lord desired to speak with me as soon as I returned from Gondor."

"You're bringing it to the Elves?" Heero could see doubt mirrored in his companion's intensely green eyes. "They would do this for you?"

"I have been named Elf-friend by one who is great among the Quendi. Have faith in me." He reached out to grasp the other's forearm tightly. "I do not deny my friendship with Millanon, but he is of the past, dedicated to returning things to as they once were. I cannot follow his path. I believe in the future." He stepped back, traces of a real smile visible on his face. "You are my soul's brother, Muina. All of you are. I will not fail you - or myself."

"Aa." Muina looked at Heero thoughtfully, then nodded his head. "Elbereth guide you[2]."

Heero brought the other's hands to rest over his heart. "Namàrië." [3] Then he was gone.

Muina watched as the leader of the Varyan turned and vanished into the shadows, taking the sword with him. "Namàrië."

* * *

The first rays of the rising sun found Heero riding hard for the River Bruinen, Narsil strapped firmly onto his mount's back. He remained away from the Great Road, instead favoring to cut across the swaths of wild country between the mountains and Imladris - only fools would risk a journey through the open in these times if they were unaccompanied. And besides that, Heero was sure that he was being searched for. The Raiders would not be quick to forget the one who had stolen their treasure away.

He broke out of a narrow belt of beech trees and urged his horse forward, pounding across the long stretch of field at a hard gallop. He didn't like feeling so exposed. He focused his gaze on the rocky cliffs that marked the river valley, and the beginning of the domain of the Elves, one of the few safe havens remaining in all of Middle-earth. He had been there once before, many years ago, not long after he had first taken his vows to serve the Nari. His lips curved up in an ironic smile at that thought - first he had come to this place as their defender, and now he came as one who desired their downfall. Or at least one who desired to prevent their return to power.

Heero galloped on, steadily closing the distance between himself and the river.

He had spoken to the other three immediately after his return to Gondor, before he had even seen Millanon. His blood had been thrumming from the revelation of his journey; that they were far too focused on returning to the past when they should have been looking toward the future. The days of the Empire were over. To return to them now would be to throw the door wide open for the cycle of oppression and bloodshed to start all over again. Because if power is given to one person and one person only, they will never be satisfied, instead seeking to dominate all things to fulfill their own dreams of greatness.

The other Varyan had sensed it as well, had sensed that history was doomed to repeat itself unless someone came forward to change its course. And who better to do it than the elite among the warriors of men? They had formed a pact that night, a pact sealing themselves to the task of creating a new future for those who remained in Middle-earth. Even if it meant destroying Millanon and Relenya, the same ones that they had sworn to serve.

Heero's eyes turned grim and determined. //Millanon - I can serve you no longer. I must follow my own destiny, now.//

* * *

A slender figure clad in the dark tunic and leggings of the Elves watched from the cliffs above the Bruinen as a lone horseman rode toward the water. His amethyst eyes narrowing, he slowly lifted his bow and took careful aim. He did not trust the mortals; if this one died by his hand it would be no great loss. He pulled his arm back swiftly, his heart hardening in resolve.

But something in him couldn't let go, couldn't let the deadly arrow fly to seek its target. Biting his lip, he he struggled to let loose. Once again, some inner part of him rebelled.

A hand touched his shoulder, startling him. He turned to see another one of his people standing directly behind him, dressed in a dark green that matched the color of pine needles. He hadn't heard her approach; he had been too caught up in his target. She gently pushed at his forearm, forcing him to lower his bow. Her brown eyes locked with his as she made a gesture in the direction of the approaching rider.


For a long moment, the amethyst eyed elf remained frozen, defiance stirring deep within him. Then he shrugged and turned away, darting away across the rocks in the direction of the tree- clad valley of Rivendell.

* * *

As his horse clattered down the stony bank of the Loudwater[5] and into the shallows, some of the tension eased from Heero's shoulders. It was still some days' ride to the Rivendell Valley, but the power of the elf lords held influence along a wide swath of the bank. He would be safer here than anywhere else, except for Imladris itself - he doubted that anyone would dare to attack him here, under the protection of Vilya[6].

But still... He felt as if he was being watched... Frowning, he twisted around to scan the harsh rocks and occasional bursts of greenery rising up from the Bruinen's waters. Nothing. He slowly turned back around, but the eerie pricking running up and down his spine refused to subside. Almost unconsciously his hand drifted to the pouch hanging at his waist, seeking out the reassuring feel of his dagger. The poison coating its edges would be enough to stop any minor attacks, but anything greater than that...

Something moved off to his left.

Heero whirled around, his heart thumping wildly as his hand reached for his dagger - then relaxed as he saw who it was. The slender elf woman smiled at him and raised her hand in greeting.

"Elen sila lumenn' omentievlo[7]."

Heero nodded in return, a faint smile tugging at his lips in return. "Allana."

Her smile broadened and she gestured him forward with a slight toss of her head, her long brown hair fluttering slightly. "I will guide you the rest of the way. The path has grown more difficult since you were last here - it wouldn't do for you to get lost."

"Thank you." Heero swung down from his horse and grasped its bridle as he followed the elf through a narrow cleft between two boulders to descend along narrow path. "Are things grown so dangerous that even your people must seek to hide themselves?"

"None can penetrate the area that is directly under Nolwë's protection, but it is still best if only a chosen few know that we are here. Why seek trouble when it can be avoided?" She turned to look back at Heero, her gaze straying pointedly to the sword. "They are already after the sword, greatest of the treasures left to you mortals - can you imagine if they knew about the Elf-rings?"

Heero remained silent, his eyes narrowed in thought. "They would never be able to claim them."

"Maybe not, but like I said, why attract trouble? The elves have little interest in the affairs of men; we have our own sorrows and concerns and have little desire to involve ourselves with the mortals. The less they know of us the better."

"Will you refuse to aid me then?"

Allana shrugged. "I am not great among my people, Varyan. If you would leave the sword in Imladris you must ask Nolwë or Antarië. They are the ones who will decide."

Heero opened his mouth to reply, then jerked his head abruptly, scanning the land around them intently. His companion stepped up beside him, putting a hand on his arm. "What is it?"

"Someone is watching us..."

Allana frowned, peering upward. Then shook her head slightly and turned back to Heero.

"It's nothing. Come." With that she hurried on without a backward glance, but Heero could not shake the feel of something watching him with fierce attention, silently wishing him gone.


[1] Muina is Quenya for secret. It seemed appropriate for Trowa.

[2] Elbereth is the Queen of the Stars in Elvish mythology. Also called Varda.

[3] Namàrië is Quenya for farewell.

[4] Eldandil means Elf-friend.

[5] Loudwater is another name for the Bruinen.

[6] One of the elvish Rings of Power. They are called Vilya, Nenya, and Narya.

[7] Elvish greeting. "A star shines on the hour of our meeting."