Lord of the White Tree

Notes: The bulk of this fic (minus the prologue) is AU 21^st century, "our time." However, none of the people or circumstances of "our" Lord of the Rings movie appear. Pretend other people did the movie, on an alternate Earth, in a different way--not a better way, just a different way. (Due to the sheer volume of people involved in the project, there will be overlapping names, but this is not done with the intention of mapping any of the characters to real people that exist.)

Prologue

Elrond looked deeply into Aragorn's eyes, and the man wondered what he sought there. Finally, the half-elven lord said, "You must not let anyone blame you for Arwen's death. She chose it because she loves you. You must remember that."

He didn't know what Elrond really meant. But he said, "I know."

"Don't forget. You bear no blame. Don't let anyone place that burden on your shoulders."

He thought little of it, until in the last days, when winter had taken over his years, he understood. You must not let anyone blame you ... not even Arwen herself.

She loves you. Remember that. He heard the words again as he faced off against her trembling rage. No, it was not quite rage, but there was a wealth of emotion, and she seemed not to know how to let it go.

It was the dwarf of the long-ago Nine Walkers who came to his aid, remarkably. "It is the way of mortals to die," said Gimli.

"Surely not so soon!"

"He has lived more than twice as long as his people. All of his mortal friends from his youth have long since passed. We grow weary, Lady. He needs rest."

She cried bitter tears. Aragorn felt his own heart being rent to pieces. He wanted to offer her a way out, but she had chosen. They had chosen. "If--"

"Do not say it," she interrupted. "The past cannot be undone. And I would be a fool, for choosing to live with you and yet to spurn your ultimate fate. But this was not the end I envisioned."

"Then perhaps you should be thankful that it is no worse," said Gimli. He sat, his back straight as a rock for all that the years had weathered him harshly. "You have had many years together. To say it was not enough is selfish."

"If the love of your life were to sunder her ties with you, would you be so graceful?"

The dwarf sighed. "Some would gladly throw themselves into the fires of doom for their loves, but are not given the chance. Think on that, fair lady. Do you wish for a few more seasons, your heart bedridden and wasting away, or will you look ahead to the times you will share when you have both passed from this world? The Eldar may live forever, but not in the company of mortals."

She turned away.

"I would find you, wherever we are bound next," Aragorn said softly, but she only walked away. He watched her with sad eyes, eventually turning back to Gimli. "I think you have argued a little too well. Did Legolas put you up to this?"

"No. He's been standing under your tree."

That was another of the eccentricities the pair, elf and dwarf, had collected over the years. They persisted in referring to the White Tree of Gondor as his tree. As for Aragorn, after all those decades he had given up asking why. He never put any store of faith in thinking that he would understand either of them, particularly why Gimli had thought it important to mention the tree just then.

"When you part, it shall be forever." The dwarf fixed him with a stern eye. "I am afraid that listening to him moan about missing us has made me decidedly unsympathetic to your lady's grief."

He thought he was beginning to see, but he pounced on one word. "Missing us? Dare I hope that you will be around to keep him on his toes for some time to come?"

Gimli shook his head. "I am not a young dwarf, as you are not a young man. For a long time I have preferred the hearth fire to the muddy road. Both our days are drawing to a close."

Aragorn's breath caught. "I see." He paced to the window and looked out and down to the courtyard, where indeed there was a slender figure in a gray cloak under the White Tree. "I had hoped you would be able to console him."

"I may, but not for long. He is not blind, Aragorn." Gimli's emphasis left no doubt that he thought someone else was, however.

"Love is blind," he said bitterly. "Would that we had never laid eyes on each other! I do not love her, I doom her."

"No, you love her, and she has doomed herself. There is a difference."

"Not in the outcome."

Gimli grunted. "You are a great man. A good man. Many love you, and would follow you to the ends of Middle Earth. This is not your fault."

The echo of Elrond's voice whispered in his ear. "I suppose," he said after a long silence, "that I cannot argue with that. But it does not make me feel any less grieved."

---

circa 2000 C.E.

No pulling on the ears, man, they're really real.

"There's someone you've gotta meet," Bryce said, latching onto Justin's arm and pulling him smoothly out of his office.

"Who?" Justin demanded. "And why? I've got too many freaks wanting in on this film as it is." It wasn't that the wide fan base didn't have its appeal at times--he had his pick of the experts in any field he needed, if nothing else--but the day had been shaping up to the worst of an already bad week. The last thing he wanted was another hyper goof with nothing to offer but enthusiasm.

"Why, dear great one, last week you were calling them loyal fans!" Bryce grinned. "Anyway, we've got pizza. You'll come for that, won't you?"

He grunted. "Great. Now we've gone from loyal fanatics to loyal fanatics bearing pizza. Show me something new."

"Actually, he didn't bring the pizza. He doesn't even know you're coming." Bryce patted his arm. It was probably meant to be reassuring, but he only felt patronized. Bryce had such a smug cat-in-the-cream look on his face that he wanted dearly to smack him. "Just trust me. You won't regret this."

"There's always a catch," Justin grumbled. "But I suppose if you have pineapple pizza, I'll have to forgive you."

It had gotten to be something of a running gag; nobody in Bryce's motley crew of CG animators actually ate pineapple pizza, but they always ordered some because he "dropped in to see how they were doing" on pizza day. They were a sweet bunch, really.

"Good, because we had to wring his arm to get him to stay."

That was a surprise. But then, if whoever this was didn't know he was about to be presented to the director of The Lord of the Rings, there would be no reason to stay ... free pizza was one thing, but it took a special kind of person to stand free pizza from a group of people who got sky high off soda alone. Even when they hadn't been guzzling like whales, they were pretty crazy. He still hadn't figured out exactly what the armadillo incident that had sent Myrtle into such a tizzy last week had involved.

They finally came to the glass doors, and Bryce ushered him in with a flourish. "Ta da!" he cried. "Justin Howell, meet--"

"--a friggin' ELF!"

Justin stared in shock at the perfectly costumed young man sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him. Even the pointed ears and impossibly long hair looked real, and the quiver full of arrows didn't even look out of place on him. Ethereally fair-skinned, he wore an earthy mixture of greens and browns in billowy light fabrics that seemed to float around his frame. His hair was held away from his face in a series of intricate braids that in turn flowed over his shoulder and down his back, tied and looped up until Justin had no idea just how long it must be. Wide eyes stared back at him for a moment, before the young man blinked and set down the paper plate of greasy pizza that suddenly looked so wrong in his elegant hands.

"Hello," the young man said, and his voice was pure music, slightly soft and underscored with song. "Would you like something to eat?"

Justin shook his head violently. "What the hell? Bryce, who the hell is this?"

Squeezing sideways past him, Bryce got between them and cleared his throat. "This's Galen. No, he's not a crackpot."

A regal fire lit Galen's eyes. He looked so utterly dignified, even somewhat haughty. "I most certainly am not. I'm a bowyer."

Hugo slipped off his perch on a desk and jabbed Justin roughly in the shoulder. "Don't be fooled. He's, like, everything. Talk about Renaissance man—uh, elf—"

"Hugo," Galen scolded.

"Oh, c'mon. You're just a bowyer like I'm just a poker player."

"Speaking of which," Judy yelled from somewhere behind a row of terminals, "you owe me thirty from the last game."

Bryce coughed. "Anyway, he works with that armorer you and Trish brought in last week, Cade. When I saw him, I knew you had to take a look."

"Ain't he cool?" Hugo piped up. He grinned, almost sadistically. "And don't touch the ears. I can vouch they're real."

"Yes, we rather know that, don't we," Bryce said, sounding too pleased. "I'm told they heard the screams two blocks down."

Justin decided he'd rather not know how they came to that understanding. It seemed that Hugo had been the one screaming, but he really didn't want to know how that implied that Galen's elf ears were real. Honestly, he didn't.

Feeling rather weaker than he had when he'd entered the room, he found a seat and sagged into it. "How about right now someone finds me my pizza? And later I sort through this headache on a platter you gave me."

Solemnly, Galen opened a box and held it out. Justin's eyes focused abruptly on the missing slices. He looked again at the young man's abandoned plate. "You eat pineapple pizza?"

"I knew you'd love him," Bryce said smugly.

Ben, meet Galen. Galen, stop that, you're getting him all wet.

"Hi, Justin. Sorry I'm late; I got a little lost."

"Hello, Ben, and don't worry, you haven't missed anything but the water balloon fight." From the way Justin was picking at his sopping wet shirt, Ben guessed he was rather wishing he'd missed the water balloon fight too. It was a little hard to be late to a party held at one's own house, though. "Come around back, I'll introd--"

Ben cringed as a high-pitched squeal cut Justin off. He knew what it meant, but he'd never really had one directed at him before. He didn't usually take roles that had fan-girls screaming. "Your daughter?"

Justin took a step back as something warm and wet collided with Ben and proceeded to squeeze the air out of his lungs. "No, Lucy's a bit more mature than that." He directed a stern glare at the ... person nuzzling Ben's left elbow. "Even though she's thirteen years younger."

"Bubbles!" And with that, Ben was abruptly deserted. He had a brief vision of green, brown, and a lot of braids before his attacker vanished around the side of the house.

Ben sagged back against the porch railing. "That was ..."

"Our elf."

"I was going to say, 'really disturbing.'"

Justin laughed. "Don't worry. You're not the only one."

"The only one he's molested, or the only one wondering why he isn't in a mental institution?"

A burly short man stepped out of the house and handed him a soda can. "To be honest, both, but he's not that bad most of the time. He was just anxious to meet you all."

"I see." Ben noted that somehow this man had escaped the thorough soaking that had gotten the "elf" and their director.

Justin said, "This is the last of the Fellowship, Thom. Ben, meet Thom Cade."

They shook hands. "I'm not one of you, by the way," Thom said. "I do armor. I'm just here to keep an eye on Legolas."

"And boy am I glad for it," Justin muttered. "Come on, my Aragorn, you've got to meet the rest of the cast."

Around back, they were confronted by a grinning man wearing a loud red Hawaiian tourist shirt. He was carrying a large pile of hamburgers. "New person!" he said, beaming. "You must be Aragorn. I'm the Boromir Mike."

"Uh, hi," Ben said. "Yes, I'm Ben Walker."

"It's so great that you're finally here. We can really party now! Want a hamburger? No? All right, where's Mike? His dead cow's gonna get cold!"

Justin grumbled, "What is this, I get Aragorn here and Frodo disappears?"

Ben asked a little weakly, "There's more than one Mike?"

"Three, if you count Michael, and that's just in the Fellowship," said Justin. "There were a couple in makeup the other day. I can't keep track anymore."

"It's a conspiracy," agreed Mike.

A short scruffy young man barreled out the back door, making a beeline for Mike's plate of hamburgers. "Finally! Real food!"

Justin grabbed him by the back of his shirt before he could escape with his food. "Okay, it's introduction time. Ben, this is Mike-Frodo. You've met the other one--"

Ben staggered as the still-sopping wet "elf" appeared out of nowhere and snuggled him again, clinging to his side like a limpet. "The merry Mike!" he giggled.

"Galen, no!" moaned someone from the picnic table. This man was older, perhaps middle-aged, with a wild riot of reddish curly hair. He stood up and put his hands on his hips. "Stop calling him that! I'm Merry!"

"But I thought you were Sam?"

"Samuel, not Samwise! That's Bill."

"But Bill is the pony!"

"What??" cried Ben.

"Stop, stop, stop!" bellowed Justin. "Everyone, be quiet and sit still! I'll do the introductions. Galen, when I said sit still I meant it," he warned. Ben resigned himself to being stuck with a wet "elf" for the time being as said person immediately froze.

Several people snickered, but silence descended as Justin turned a powerful glare on them. "Right," said their director, "I'll start over. Benjamin Walker--Aragorn. Galen--Legolas. Mike Aster--Boromir. Mike Lancaster--Frodo." He moved to the picnic table. "Samuel Morstoff--Merry. Tom Dale--Pippin. Liam Wells--Gandalf. Bill Patterson--Sam, as in Samwise Gamgee. Michael Leon--Gimli. We all clear on this? Great, now mingle. Be a fellowship. I'll be back with more food." He turned and went into the house, the screen door banging shut behind him.

The "elf"--Galen--relaxed and started nuzzling his arm again. Ben sighed, and resolved to ask at a later, less chaotic date, why Galen didn't get a full name.

Thom Cade wandered up to them. "Need a crowbar?" he asked.

Ben wasn't sure what the polite answer to that was. "Does he always greet people like this?" he asked instead.

"Legolas, down!" ordered Thom.

Galen yelped and dropped Ben's arm as if it were on fire. "I'm sorry!" he wailed. "I didn't mean anything!"

"It, uh, it's all right. You're just ... a little damp. Maybe you should change," Ben suggested.

"No can do, Justin's wife already banned him from the house," Mike Aster said helpfully. "Hey, Ben, you hungry at all? We've still got some vegan burgers if you don't want dead cow. Galen makes awesome vegan stuff."

"My hamburger may be dead cow, but it's real dead cow!" yelled Mike Lancaster. He'd already snarfed down one hamburger and was heartily starting on his next. "None of this fake junk for me."

"You keep telling yourself that," Mike Aster said.

"Maybe later," Ben said. "I think my appetite got lost when I did."

"Ah, so I wasn't the only one to be doomed by Justin's handwriting. That man needs a secretary." Shaking his head ruefully, Liam Wells approached and offered a hand. "Welcome aboard, Benjamin. I'm very pleased to meet you."

"Please, call me Ben."

Galen, who had stripped off his shirt and was wringing out the water, startled and fixed beseeching eyes on him. "You don't want me—us—to call you Aragorn?"

Ben coughed and tried not to stare. Galen was exceedingly pale, and still very wet. "Um, that's fine. It's just that 'Benjamin' makes me feel old."

Liam harrumphed. "Ben, I don't think you will be the one feeling old around here. I'm the only one with gray hair."

There was a nervous giggle from Galen, who had put his shirt back on and was pulling off his pants. Their "elf" suddenly seemed to notice that everyone was staring at him. "What? I'm wearing underwear." Ben was personally somewhat relieved at hearing this; since the length of the tunic-like shirt nearly reached his knees, there was no other proof of this statement. Galen then proceeded to squeeze a rather impressive amount of water out of his pants, drenching the rose bush next to the back door.

Tom Dale and Mike Lancaster exchanged a long look, then nodded. Almost as one, they charged at Galen from opposite sides, Mike almost overturning the picnic table as he vaulted over it. "Steal the pants!" Tom shouted.

Ben had thought the name merry-go-round confusing, but it was nothing compared to the utter mayhem that followed. Galen let out another of his high-pitched shrieks, Thom Cade laughed so hard he ended up sitting on the ground gasping for breath, and Ben somehow found himself in possession of a pair of damp brown leggings.

Several minutes later, he pulled the pants cautiously off his head and looked around. Michael and Thom had set up a checkers board and were pointedly ignoring the rest of the world. Liam had flattened himself against the wall of the house. "So, how is your first day with the Fellowship going?" the older man inquired politely. Ben wanted to hit him. He settled instead for growling menacingly, but Liam just smiled.

"Hey, look at the bright side," Mike Aster said, popping up behind Ben. "At least your name is your own. My first day, Galen kept calling me 'Merry' until we stuffed him into the broom closet."

"Ah, so that's where he went," Liam said placidly. "Truly, Ben. How are you doing?"

Ben sighed. "Honestly? I feel left out of the loop." All four "hobbits" had ganged up on Galen, who squealed loudly in protest. The "elf" was apparently very ticklish. "It's obvious you've all been working together long before I got here."

"It's true that the hobbits and I have been here a while," Liam said, "but don't let that intimidate you. We're here to get to know you."

"So we're not here to trash Justin's backyard? I never knew!" Mike Aster said. He took a long swig of his soda and burped pleasantly. "Oops, 'scusie. Actually, Michael and I're new too, only got in last week."

Ben allowed himself a quick look at the "elf", who had squirmed free and was cornered at the top of a tall birch. He hadn't even been mentioned. "And Galen?" he asked.

"He was in props initially, maybe he's still helping out with that," Mike said, apparently unconcerned about the particulars. It made Ben all the more curious.

"Legolas is a bowyer/fletcher," Thom Cade said, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the din. He returned to his checkers game without waiting for further questions.

"Ah," Ben mused. "I suppose that explains why I've never heard of him. And why he's not even in the IMdb."

"Yeah, when they told me he was playing Legolas, I was like, who?" Mike chuckled. "Worst part about it was he was right in front of me. I felt horrible, but he didn't mind. Said he'd've been surprised if I did know who he was. Fame's not gonna suit him, I can tell."

"Oh?" He was beginning to enjoy listening to Mike talk. The other man had an endearing way of cheerfully butchering the English language.

"He's not got the ego for it. I don't think he knows what he's getting himself into. Sweet kid, but really, he's just a kid."

"He's rather innocent, isn't he?" That was how Galen struck Ben--well, that and a little childlike. He'd known him for less than half an hour, but he had a feeling.

"Yeah, exactly. I mean, he doesn't know the first thing about the business."

Ben thought about the headaches "the business" often gave him, and said, "Perhaps he's to be envied, then."

Mike laughed. "At least until he gets slammed by his first tabloid reporter, anyway."

Instead of agreeing right away, Ben had a strange vision of Galen shouting, "Pretty lights!" and hugging the cameraman before running off to talk to a tree. In some form of Elvish, no doubt. He felt a little green. "I think I just might call in sick that day."

"Chicken," said Mike, grinning.

Young love is so cute

"Oh, he was so tall!" Galen was in ecstasy. "He's like a tree!"

Thom snorted and began clearing away breakfast. His friend had hardly eaten a bite. He hadn't eaten much at the barbecue the day before, either, at least not once Ben had showed up. Thom fought down a snicker.

"It's going to be wonderful. He's perfect! He's going to blow everybody away--"

"He's going to kill you if you don't tone it down."

"But--"

"So will Justin, in fact. You're totally ruining the good impression he had of you."

The elf pouted.

Thom shook his head, laughing to himself.

They were almost done with the dishes when Thom decided that it was time to add, "He still has your pants, you know. You're going to have to ask for them back."

Legolas eeped, almost dropped a plate, and staggered to a chair. "He's going to kill me," he murmured.

But there was still a sappy smile on his face.

The elephant is not here to reassure you.

Ben didn't manage to nail anyone down to ask about Galen for several days. When he did, it was mostly because Mike Aster was perfectly willing to talk about anything so long as one continued to buy him drinks--overpriced espresso in this case, but by that point Ben had gotten so fed up he didn't care.

"So what d'you wanna know?" Mike asked. "I mean, I'm not sure what's your problem."

Ben wasn't sure what his problem was either, but he decided it was about time he went on the offensive. "Why is he just called Galen? Is it his first name? Last name?"

"Last," Mike said, slurping noisily. "But everybody seems to call him that. No one's ever mentioned his first name. Mike thinks it starts with an E, I think he's on crack puppies."

"Mike is always on crack puppies," Ben said, more or less on autopilot. Mike Lancaster actually managed to get on his nerves more than Galen, because their "elf" had frequent periods of calm. Mike Lancaster never calmed down unless they were actively working. "Right. It's just starting to bug me, that sort of thing. Nobody ever talks about him; he's just there."

"Yeah, well, it's like the elephant in your coat closet. You don't really talk about him because he's so nice, hanging up your coat for you when you open the door."

"I am not reassured by that analogy."

"Who said you had to be? You've seen his ears, yeah? Do you really want to know how they got like that?"

"Yes," Ben said impatiently.

"Oh." Mike shrugged. "As far as I can tell, Justin doesn't want to know, so people don't ask."

Ben sighed. "But I want to know!"

"So why don't you just ask? He likes you, you're his favorite plushie."

"I am not a plushie and that's why I don't want to get near enough to him to ask."

Mike snickered. "Ask Thom Cade. They live together, you know."

"No, I didn't know." Ben paused. "They do?"

"C'mon, can you imagine giving Galen a flat of his own? Of course he lives with somebody."

Ben tried that mental image, but it made his head hurt. "You're right. Of course."

"You weren't thinking what I thought you were thinking, were you?" Mike almost snorted his coffee. "You were, weren't you! Oh man!"

"Mike, I have no idea what you're even saying."

"You thought they were boyfriends!" Mike pronounced gleefully. "You did you did youdidyoudid!"

"What was I supposed to think?! Why else would anybody put up with him?"

"Buddy, the only boyfriend Galen's ever going to have is you," Mike said. "And besides, he cooks like a dream and Thom can keep him under control, so why not?"


[Re-posted from quite some time ago. It's amazing what one finds on one's hard drive.]