Surviving Peace

Chapter 1

Seeing as I just finished my first week of exams (it was hell), and managed to finish writing this a few days ago, HAVE A NEW STORY!

This takes place about one year after the War of the Ring, and is mainly book-verse. Some unspecified time after the war, Legolas began an elven colony in Ithilien. In the books, Faramir also ends up living in Ithilien with Eowyn. You shouldn't have to read any of my other fics to understand anything in this. The only things you may miss are a few hints at previous works. My OC Belhadron appears here, for any of those who wanted to know a bit more about him- you get hints of a backstory here, as well as (hopefully) some snarky funny bits from him as well.

This focuses very much on the mental and emotional impact of everything all the characters went through. I definitely don't want this to come across as some privileged person writing about something they know nothing about. I consider myself very lucky to be pretty much mentally alright, and I make no presumption to understand what people may be going through, and think those who do are incredibly courageous.

But I did want to write this- steer away from the easier physical angst and explore the emotional side of things more, push myself to explore emotions without resorting to injuring someone (I've mostly succeeded in this fic- the only injuries are for plot purposes). I wanted to try and do everything that this story deals with justice.

So yeah, I really hope that nobody is in any way offended by this, but if so, I apologise. In no way was that my intent. Light trigger warnings for PTSD and associated ideas- there is nothing explicit that I believe could trigger anything, but I don't know, so I will warn in the notes before a chapter is there is anything that might be problematic for some people.

Also, these are now being published as well on Archive of our Own, under the name ScribeofArda. If you prefer the style of that website, or the font, or size of writing or whatever, then feel free to hop on over and read them over there, though I won't be putting in some of the random author's notes that turn up here :)

Disclaimer: YES, YES I OWN THEM ALL! *cough* What I shout in my dreams. I don't own anything apart from Belhadron. Him I get to keep.

0-o-0-o-0

survive (səˈvʌɪv/), verb: continue to live or exist, especially in spite of danger or hardship. Synonyms: remain alive, live, sustain oneself, cling to life, pull through, get through,hold on, hold out, make it, keep body and soul together.

0-o-0-o-0

"Riders approaching!"

They could hear the call going out from the great walls of the city as they approached, and their sharp ears picked up the subtle sound of hurrying feet on white stones. Finally within sight of their destination, the two horses pricked their ears and seemed to find some more energy, the beat of their hooves pounding rhythmically on the road as the two of them rode in.

The gates grew closer and closer, and both horses slowed. The war had not been over long enough for the wariness that had existed for so long to disappear and both riders knew full well how such a thing could linger. Still there was an urge to check over your shoulder, for your hand to remain close to your weapon. It had been just over a year, but most of the time it felt like only a month, or like it hadn't even happened yet.

The horses came into view from the small party standing within the courtyard, and Aragorn allowed a smile to come across his face as he recognised the smaller grey horse riding in. Behind him the various council members and guards that he had been unable to shake stepped forwards in various stages of excitement.

Aragorn could sense the moment when Faramir, standing by his shoulder, turned and subtly glared at the men behind them, and they stepped back. Aragorn nodded ever so slightly, knowing Faramir would see it and take it as what it was meant, a thank you.

The pounding of hooves on the dirt road grew louder, and Aragorn's attention turned towards the open gates. These were not the great gates that Minas Tirith had once bore, nor were they yet the gates that Gimli had promised the city. These were wooden, strong enough to provide some protection and reassurance to those in the city, but hastily constructed and crude. There were still some scorch marks on the white stone walls beside them.

Around the courtyard people were gathering, or had already gathered upon hearing the news of the immanent arrival. Aragorn could spy many children in the crowd, watching with excited faces. Even though the Queen was an elf, and the people of Gondor were largely a learned people, elves were still held in regard as something a little more akin to tales than real life.

Finally the two horses passed through the gate and pulled to a halt in the courtyard. Aragorn heard the excited squeal of a child before it was hushed. But his attention was soon turned to the arrivals, and he stepped forwards, a smile on his face as a lithe blond figure swung down from the grey horse.

"Legolas," said Aragorn warmly, and then the blond elf was firmly in his embrace. Legolas laughed, his voice merry, and embraced Aragorn back.

"I have missed you, mellon-nin," he said, pulling back. "It is a long way from home to here."

Aragorn nodded. "I know," he said. His gaze went past Legolas to the other rider, who had dismounted from a large bay horse, the stallion's dark red coat rippling in the noon sunshine.

"Belhadron," he said in greetings. "Welcome to Minas Tirith." The dark-haired elf stepped forwards to clasp Aragorn's arm.

"It is good to see you again, Estel," he said in a lilting accent, the Westron seeming unfamiliar on his tongue. Aragorn smiled and said something in Sindarin, the councillors all listening in eagerly to hear the rolling tongue that none of them understood.

Aragorn stepped back and introduced Belhadron to Faramir, Legolas having already stepped over and greeted him. They exchanged a few words, before Aragorn apologetically grimaced and muttered a few words about council members. Legolas smiled, saying something to Belhadron in a language that sounded nothing like Sindarin, though was obviously elvish, and Belhadron chuckled, a slightly wicked grin coming across his face for a few moments. Aragorn turned and the council members and various other people in the entourage stepped forwards.

Faramir watched the two elves and the King as they passed through the courtiers. Aragorn he could read fairly well now after a year of being his Steward, and he could tell, even if he didn't know, that such formalities irked the former Ranger.

But Faramir found his gaze being drawn to the elf Aragorn had called Belhadron. He held himself a little differently to Legolas, slightly tense, his eyes continuously scanning their surroundings, and Faramir suspected that he was not entirely at ease in this city. It made sense. From what Aragorn had mentioned to Faramir of Belhadron, it seemed that he had remained in the forests of what had once been called Mirkwood all of his life.

A council member approached Legolas, and Faramir couldn't help but notice how Belhadron's hand jumped ever so slightly towards his sword, before he put his hand back down at his side. The cloak he wore, a mixture of greens and greys that Faramir supposed would looked near invisible in a forest, was shifted back to reveal the sword at his waist, and to give his arms freedom of movement.

He looked dangerous, thought Faramir, or at least potentially dangerous. But then as Faramir watched from the side, he saw Legolas murmur something to Belhadron and the dark-haired elf's face broke in a grin. And then any image of Belhadron looking dangerous simply vanished.

Aragorn excused them from the small crowd of people, and Legolas chuckled softly. His gaze flickered around the courtyard. "You do seem to draw a crowd, Aragorn," he said quietly, but there was a smile on his face.

Aragorn smiled. "I think it is you and Belhadron," he said. "Certain stories, I think, have been a little exaggerated. I think some of them are hoping for a sparring match here and now."

Belhadron chuckled, his gaze flitting around the courtyard. A young child, a girl only about five years old, waved shyly from behind a soldier's legs, and Belhadron smiled. "We should not disappoint," he murmured, switching back to Sindarin for ease.

Aragorn laughed. "How is home?" he asked, and neither Legolas nor Belhadron missed the underlying tone of his voice. Legolas inclined his head slightly.

"We are recovering," he said with a small smile. And if the smile didn't quite reach his eyes, and if behind him Belhadron had paused slightly, his gaze becoming distant for the barest of moments, then nobody besides Aragorn noticed, and Aragorn had been expecting it anyway.

The company mounted up for the short ride back up to the citadel. There came a few muffled murmurs from the small crowd around them as Legolas and Belhadron both vaulted onto their horses and people noticed that neither Arod nor Belhadron's large bay wore any tack at all. Faramir mounted his own horse and rode on Aragorn's left hand side as the four of them, followed by council members and Aragorn's guard, made their way up through the city.

"How are you?" asked Legolas softly as they rode. Arod pranced slightly, his shod hooves ringing out on the stone streets, but he quieted quickly with a touch from Legolas to his neck.

Aragorn smiled. "I am well enough," he said. "The city is being rebuilt, and Osgiliath as well." The evidence was all around them, men working on buildings that had been damaged or destroyed in the siege, people repairing walls and streets. Slowly the scars were being scraped off or covered up with new white stone. But there were still scorch marks of fires against the sides of buildings, the occasional stone from a catapult that had not yet been removed. It would be a while yet.

Aragorn allowed a soft sigh, quiet enough so that only Legolas, Belhadron and Faramir could hear, to pass his lips. He looked over at Legolas, and a small smile came across his face. "We are here," he murmured, his gaze flickering back to Faramir. "We won. And we will be alright."

Faramir nodded, a small smile of his own on his lips. Aragorn was right. They had won, and it was over now. It was over.

They continued to talk as the party headed up through the city, exchanging details of homes and places beyond. Legolas had news of Gimli, of Erebor and Dale, whilst Aragorn filled Legolas in on the goings on in the Shire that he had heard from Gandalf and some of the Dunedain back north. Belhadron was for the most part quiet, but occasionally spoke to Legolas in that rich tongue that Faramir guessed was Silvan. And then all too quickly they were on the sixth level and pulling the horses up in front of the stables.

Aragorn dismounted as stable hands came out to take the horses away, and moved around to speak to Legolas, who had dismounted from Arod. Belhadron's horse shifted almost nervously on the spot, his hooves clattering, and Faramir looked over as he freed his cloak from where is had been caught on the saddle before dismounting.

"There is a tradition that horses are not allowed up to the seventh level of the city," he said. "It is a little pointless, but tradition is tradition."

Belhadron nodded, and gracefully swung himself from his horse. A groom approached him, wearing the livery of Minas Tirith, and then stopped short at the surprise of finding a horse with no tack. Slightly surprisingly, he regained himself quickly and bowed low to Belhadron and Faramir.

"Milords," he said, and Faramir nodded back.

"Celtan," he said in greetings. "I trust your mother is well?"

"Aye, milord," said Celtan with a smile. "Ma's doin' better." He bowed low again to Belhadron, and eyed his horse. "Have we a halter or something for your horse, milord?"

Belhadron paused, and Faramir could see him translating what the groom had said in his head. Faramir opened his mouth, as he could at least translate into passable Sindarin, but then reconsidered. There was a hint of deep running pride that he could see glimpses of under Belhadron's skin, and so he kept his mouth shut.

Belhadron eventually shook his head. "He will follow," he said, his accent lilting. He turned to the horse and murmured something, and his horse snorted quietly, and then stepped forwards. Celtan looked surprised, but bowed low to them and backed away.

Belhadron's horse followed him, and the groom looked even more surprised, but he turned and led the horse back to the stables. The horse looked back at Belhadron once, and Faramir smiled to see Belhadron simply nod, and the horse turn back and follow the groom once more.

Belhadron smiled softly, and then turned to where Legolas and Aragorn were standing, talking quietly by the stairs up to the seventh level.

Legolas looked up as Belhadron approached. "He did not threaten to bite the groom?" he asked.

Belhadron chuckled. "He is behaved," he said, in Westron out of courtesy to those around them, though Faramir could tell he was still uncomfortable using the tongue.

Legolas smiled, and then said something in a flurry of elvish that Faramir couldn't even begin to understand. He was beginning to wonder if they had any original and translated scripts of Silvan in the archives. He rather doubted it. Belhadron laughed, and replied in the same flowing language, speaking so easily and beautifully that Faramir was almost jealous.

Aragorn rolled his eyes at Legolas and chuckled dryly. "Let us head up to the citadel," he said. "Belhadron, nothing can rival the view from the edge of the courtyard."

Belhadron smiled easily at Aragorn. "As impressive your city is, Estel," he said. "It is still made of stone."

Faramir raised one eyebrow at that, but Aragorn and Legolas both laughed. "You will become used to it, mellon-nin," said Legolas. "Besides, there are a few gardens."

Belhadron shook his head at his friend. "We shall see," he said to Legolas. Turning back to Aragorn, a smile grew across his face. "Lead the way."

Faramir followed behind as Aragorn led Legolas and Belhadron up the steps and into the courtyard. He saw as Belhadron briefly stopped upon reaching the top of the steps, and slowly turned around.

"Even for a stone city, it is impressive," Aragorn said with a dry smile. Belhadron chuckled, but didn't say anything, turning back towards the citadel. The new tree, its branches a pale white and bearing sweet pale blossoms, stood at the edge of the fountain. It had grown since Legolas had last seen it, when it had just been a sapling. Now it was taller than Aragorn.

And then Faramir's gaze was drawn to the top of the steps leading into the citadel, and without really knowing, a smile spread across his face as he saw the two women descending the steps. He knew without looking for it that a similar smile was probably on Aragorn's face as well.

Aragorn reached Arwen and reached out for her hand. "Meleth-nin," he said with a smile.

Legolas stepped forwards, bowing. "My Lady," he said with a smile touching his lips. "And my Lady Eowyn."

"Legolas," said Arwen warmly, a soft smile on her face. "Welcome back. And welcome, Belhadron, to Minas Tirith. It is good to finally meet you. Estel has told me much." Belhadron bowed low to her, not completely unable to hide the awe in his eyes at meeting the Evenstar, the Lady Undomniel.

Eowyn smiled. "Welcome, my Lords," she said, and Faramir felt himself melt slightly at her smile, the shy reserved one that she had for people she didn't really know. His wife could be deceptive to those who didn't know her story. The White Lady of Rohan seemed delicate, almost fragile, but Faramir knew from experience she had a sharp tongue and an even sharper mind, not to mention the fact that she was a far better rider than he would ever be.

He held back a smile at the memory.

0-o-0-o-0

Legolas turned and looked out across the Pelennor from where he stood, high up in front of the citadel. Aragorn was right. The view from the courtyard outside the citadel was fantastic. The Anduin glinted in the distance, curving away out of sight towards the south. Osgiliath, slowly rebuilding, was straight to the east. Even the mountains looked less ominous, like normal mountains now, rather than the thin border between them and Mordor.

And then Legolas' gaze was drawn slowly south, and he repressed a sigh as a now familiar ache made itself known.

South. The Sea. Ever since he had heard those gulls in Pelargir, there had been an ache that had not gone away, a longing for the sea that would not sleep. He did not know if ache was the right word. Ache implied that something had hurt him, and in truth, he was not sure if what he felt was painful. Maybe he had not resisted the longing long enough to feel it as pain, but it felt more like an emptiness, a hollow in his chest that wouldn't quite fill.

A hand fell on his shoulder, and Legolas almost, but not quite, started. He turned around to see Aragorn standing behind him. "We are heading inside," he said. "I think Belhadron needs a tour of the citadel." He grinned. "I am going to convince him that a stone city is perfectly fine."

Legolas chuckled, and if the sound felt a little forced, and he had to keep his eyes from being drawn to the south, then he quickly pushed it out of his mind. "You can try," he said. "But it was a long journey, mellon-nin, and the roads are still not so safe that we could travel without wariness. I think our rooms will be enough for now. The tour can wait."

Aragorn nodded in agreement, and Legolas turned to Faramir and Eowyn. He bowed slightly. "I will see you at the dinner tonight," he said. "It has been good to see both of you again."

"And you," said Faramir. He took Eowyn's arm and the two of them headed inside, in the vague direction of Faramir's study.

Arwen smiled as she watched them go, and then turned to Aragorn. "I will see you in a minute, meleth-nin," she said. "It is good to have you back, Legolas." She turned and followed Faramir and Eowyn inside.

Aragorn sighed slightly as she went, a small smile on his face. Legolas chuckled. "You seem content," he said.

"I am," murmured Aragorn. He broke out of his reverie with a shake of his head and smiled softly. "I am content."

0-o-0-o-0

"How is your home?" Aragorn asked as they walked down the corridors of the citadel, through a multitude of ornate doors towards the living areas.

Legolas gave him a strange look. "You already asked that," he said. "You cannot be losing your memory already. I know you are old, but you are not that old yet, mellon-nin."

Aragorn resisted the urge to shove Legolas in the ribs. "Last time I asked the question, we were surrounded by people who might overhear. Now we are alone."

Belhadron and Legolas exchanged glances, and then Belhadron spoke, slipping into Sindarin for ease of use. "It has been wonderful," he said sarcastically, a bitter smile on his face. "Brilliant, actually. Apart from the fact that we lost hundreds of elves, of course, and that some parts of the forest have been burnt down by orcs, and that everyone, everywhere, has been left with horrific scars. But other than all of that, it's great." He chuckled bitterly.

Legolas half smiled at Belhadron's scathing tone, but at the same time he sighed, and shook his head slightly. "We have survived, for the most part," he said. "But after hundreds of years of war, peace is a strange thing to become used to."

Belhadron spoke up, some of the bitterness gone from his voice. "We had a purpose, Estel. For over a thousand years we knew what we had to do, and now we cannot do that anymore." He shrugged. "It is going to take some time to adjust to."

Aragorn nodded. "Aye, I know," he said. "Well, I know what you mean. I haven't exactly lived for as long as either of you. But it is over now. We did triumph, in the end."

"Not many of us realise it," said Belhadron with half a smile. "There are far too many sharpened swords and fletched arrows lying around Eryn Lasgalen's halls." Many of the elves that had been warriors now spent a little too much time tending to weapons, as they were not at war anymore. The quiet could be unnerving.

Aragorn chuckled. "I know what you mean. Luckily half of Gondor's army have returned to whatever they did before they were needed as soldiers, and the other half are busy helping to repair whatever needs repairing." He stopped outside a door.

"Your room, Belhadron," Aragorn said, pushing open the door. "Legolas is next door." He grimaced. "There is going to be a welcoming feast this evening. I apologise for it in advance."

"Why?" asked Belhadron. "I know that after attending one of our feasts others do seem lacking, but it cannot be that bad."

Aragorn laughed, a full laugh that made Legolas smile at hearing the sound. "You will either have people pretending not to stare at you because they have never really seen an elven warrior, or you will have advisors and courtiers and anyone there falling over themselves trying to win your affections." Aragorn sighed and shook his head with a smile. "I hate the politics of it all."

"You were the one who invited us," pointed out Legolas with a grin.

Aragorn rolled his eyes. "No, I received word five days ago from a messenger from Cair Andros that you were riding in. The invitation to this city was a general one, Legolas. I didn't actually invite you for this specific visit." Belhadron coughed meaningfully and Aragorn chuckled. "Not that I am not glad you are both here," he said.

"It is good to see you again, Estel," said Belhadron, pushing open the door to his room. He glanced over Aragorn, and his gaze, to those who did not know him well, seemed unreadable. A soft smile came across his lips. "You have grown, mellon-nin."

Aragorn chuckled, and Belhadron, with a smile curving his lips, went inside and let the door swing shut.

Aragorn turned back to Legolas as they began to walk back down the corridor. "How are you?" he asked.

Legolas smiled softly, well aware why Aragorn was asking the question now, now when it was just the two of them. As much as he loved Belhadron, as much as the dark-haired elf was a close friend, he hadn't been there. And Aragorn had. Belhadron knew this as well as Legolas, and knew that there were still some things that Legolas, however much he had told him, was reluctant to talk about.

After all, Belhadron could not tell Legolas everything that had happened in Mirkwood whilst Legolas was away, no matter how hard he tried. Some things were impossible to talk about. You simply had to have been there.

Legolas shrugged. "I am well enough," he said. "Some days are better than others."

"What about when the wind blows from the south?"

Legolas' gaze shot sharply to Aragorn, who attempted to look innocent and failed, his gaze instead switching to the infuriating look he got when he was sure he knew something.

"Tell me," said Aragorn softly, as they paused outside the door to Legolas' room. "I know it is bothering you, mellon-nin."

Legolas sighed. "I am coping, Aragorn. It is not too bad, not yet." And that was all he felt like saying on the matter. Even speaking of it made the pull grow a little stronger, made the empty feeling a little more apparent.

Aragorn looked at him, and Legolas hated this look probably more than the other one he found infuriating. This look was completely unreadable, a blank gaze that Aragorn had spent many years perfecting. Even his brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, could not tell what he was thinking when he looked like this.

"Honestly, Estel," said Legolas, and Aragorn's face softened at the use of his old name by his old friend. "I am well. It is good to be back." And it was. The city had some painful reminders, but there were also reminders of better things, of friendship and loyalty. Though the painful reminders of all they had lost, the price they had paid, were still there, and could easily dampen the better ones, they did not make what they had found during the war unimportant.

"I have missed having you around, mellon-nin," said Aragorn. "Gandalf has come and gone, but now he is gone more than often, and I haven't seen anyone else. I am glad you could come."

"Believe me, Aragorn, I am glad to have finally come again," said Legolas. And he was, in a way, glad to have gotten out of Eryn Lasgalen. He loved his home, but now, after the Quest, and the War, everything he had seen? The forest just didn't seem big enough anymore.

At that moment a page came around the corner, bowing low upon seeing Aragorn and Legolas. "My Lords," he said. "My King, one of the advisors has requested your presence."

Aragorn sighed, and turned to Legolas. "And that is as much free time as I get," he said, but his voice was light and he was smiling. "I will see you this evening."

Legolas smiled, and clasped Aragorn's arm. They didn't say anything else, and didn't need to. The blond elf pushed the door open, and slipped inside his room.

To Be Continued...

And that is the first chapter! It will, as usual, take a little while for things to get going, but there is action up ahead...

Because I am in the midst of exams, and I know that a lot of others are as well, I'm only going to publish twice a week for now: on a Friday, to give you the weekend to read the chapter, and on a Tuesday, to give you a good few days to read that chapter as well.

As for the Chapters in Mirkwood story, I haven't forgotten your awesome prompts! I am in the midst of writing another oneshot, have about four more vaguely planned out (ranging from light and hopefully funny to completely tragic and something that will probably make me cry when I write it). The plan with these is that if I write a bunch of them now, then I can publish them every so often, in the gaps when I have finished publishing this but haven't finished writing my next long story (don't worry, I already know what the next one is going to be).

I would like to say, though, that even if I am not publishing, I look at this website literally every day, and get emails about any messages. If you want to pop in at any time and say hi, or chat, or ask what's coming next, then please do. I love hearing from you guys

Sorry about the amount of notes :) Next chapter will be up on Tuesday.