THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH

Genre: LOTR, slash, PG-13

Pairings: two - but tell would be to spoil

Warning: none really - but bear an open mind

Summary: sometimes you have to let your true love go to keep it

Author's note: This is set in the 1920ies, so I would not call it a "modern day" fic... there will be Elves, so do not despair.

* * *

There was a saying that there was a sucker born every minute. Rosie could not comment on the frequency, but there sure were a lot dupes out there. She knew them all. Almost fifty years she had spent in the little yellow cash box with the bright red roof. Day after day, year after year, whether in bright sunshine or hail.

She saw them when they bought their tickets; she watched them during the come-in. Stressed parents with their over-excited children. Young girls, giggling and lurking in front of Madame Zobeida's booth, pretending not to believe in clairvoyants but finally entering anyway, asking silly questions about the young men they loved and prepared to pay for a well-worded lie.

They were not the only ones. With shining eyes they came here, fascinated by the miracle of the circus, and sometimes Rosie wished that she could share their enthusiasm. She had been like them once, enchanted by the lights and the glitter and Miss Alicia, the Queen of the Horses. But she had soon learned that Frank, the clown, hid the reddened nose and cheeks of a drunkard under his make-up, and that Miss Alicia, who looked so elegant sitting on her beautiful white horse, was a bitter, bickering wife to a tired, disillusioned husband.

The golden days of the circus were over, and though none of them admitted it, they knew it well. With people out of work, the paying audience had shrunk, and already there had been rumours that Mr Dink, the proud owner and director of "Dink & Sons", might be forced to send some of the less attractive attractions away. They had already sold Sid the lion to a travelling zoo. Dink had claimed that the animal had been old and would have died soon, anyway. Rosie knew better.

The 3 o'clock performance had started 30 minutes ago. Rosie braced up on her elbows and peeked out of her booth. Any minute now, and he would come, the secret highlight of Rosie's day.

And really, there he was. At first she had thought him to be a farmer, because of his worn-out dungarees and the straw hat, but now she was not so sure anymore. Maybe he was the son of a good family who now lived in the rough? So many had lost everything in the big crash.

There were many aspects speaking for her theory. The way he moved, the way he talked. A real gentleman and god knew the farmers around here were anything but. Everyday he would come to see the fourth number of the show and its first highlight.

As usual, he stood and stared at the tent entrance for a while, as if undecided whether to buy a ticket or not. But as every day, he finally approached Rosie's booth, put two coins in front of her and said: "One ticket, please. Last row."

* * *

"Flo, The World Famous Talking Horse" was announced on the dirty poster just outside of Rosie's booth. Under the bright letters, a smiling horse could be seen, wearing a straw hat with a large flower. Flo was very popular, especially with the children. A good-natured mare, she could answer questions by neighing once for "yes", twice for "maybe" and shaking her head enthusiastically for "no." She could also perform a number of clever tricks and loved the attention of the audience.

The show was also very popular with the girls. Flo's owner, a tall, earnest looking man of about forty, charmed them with unexpected, boyish smiles, and more than one woman took extra care on her dress before coming to the circus, just in case.

However, Mr. Ash was short-spoken and obviously not interested in love affairs. He was polite with his female admirers who came to see him after the show, but he kept them at arm's length and soon disappeared in the stables to look after Flo.

Rosie, who knew life and its pitfalls, assumed that Mr. Ash had lost his wife and still mourned for her. She had tried to approach him about this once, and from reply he had given her she concluded that her assumption had been correct and that he did not wish to discuss the matter.

He was with the circus for five years now, and had turned all offers for company down. Rosie liked the quiet man who always had a friendly word for her, and really, what woman would not have liked a man who showed such great devotion to his wife, even after her death?

* * *

"There you go," Rosie said, and handed the ticket over to her daily visitor. 'A dandy', she thought. 'That's what he looks like. A dandy in dungarees.'

"Thank you," he replied, and looked down at the ticket. "Last row?"

"Last row, as usual," Rosie nodded. It was a ritual. Same question, same answer, day in, day out. Of course she wondered why the man always made sure the ticket was for the last row, but at least the little conversation gave her a few extra moments to admire the beautiful face. Rosie would have never called a man "beautiful" to his face. Men didn't like that kind of compliment.

But "handsome" did not quite meet it. His features were delicate, the nose a little too big and his smile lopsided, but still, to Rosie, he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He even beat Rudolph Valentino hands down, and coming from Rosie, this was quite a compliment. Maybe it was the air of innocence that surrounded him. Even the worst of days came to a good day looking at the shy young man, and that was why Rosie awaited his visit so eagerly.

It goes without saying that Rosie had considered more than once why the young man bought a ticket, day after day. After a lot of thinking she had come to the conclusion that Flo must once have been in possession of his family, and that he came to see his old childhood friend. It was a tragic fantasy, and a heart-warming one, and very likely as far away from the truth as it could be, but Rosie liked it quite fine. She looked after him and waited until he had disappeared into the tent before she closed her booth.

* * *

"You've been a good girl," Mr. Ash said, and patted Flo's back. Flo neighed in agreement and looked at him expectantly, as if to say: "Of course I've been. Now start the grooming already!"

Mr. Ash smiled, then reached for the brush and began to groom his hold friend. It had been a good show. Flo had been a little difficult in the beginning, but she was a good sport and never ruined a show. She loved the children, and she would have never disappointed them.

He hummed a song he remembered from his childhood during his work, and Flo seemed to like it, as he could tell from the way she twitched her ears.

"I have not heard this tune for a very long time."

Mr. Ash halted the grooming for a moment, but did not turn around. He knew whose voice it was. He just did not want to look at him.

His fingers closed harder around the brush, the knuckles standing out wide, and he continued his work.

His visitor sighed.

"Will you not at least look at me? I find it hard to talk to your back."

Mr. Ash clenched his jaw, then he looked over his shoulder.

"There is nothing we need to talk about. I haven't invited you to come here, and I don't need company. Get outta here."

His visitor winced.

"It hurts my ears to hear such words! I find your preferences to live here obscure, to say the least, but could you at least have the decency to use proper words when talking to me?"

Mr. Ash frowned.

"I cannot say that you look like nobility either with those ridiculous clothes and the silly straw hat, Erestor. It is bad enough they make the horse wear one."

"Agreed," Erestor replied. "And as you have used decent language, I shall humour you as well." He took off the hat and freed his long black hair. Then he walked to Flo and patted her.

"Asfaloth, old friend! Has he brought you in an awkward position again?"

The horse looked at Mr. Ash, then at Erestor. Then she neighed once.

Erestor arched his eyebrows.

"Glorfindel sends his regards. He would be most obliged if he could have his horse back. The one you left behind is an unruly beast."

"They should get along fine then," Mr. Ash grumbled.

Erestor laughed.

"He has improved a lot since you have last seen him. Marriage does him good, you would be surprised."

Mr. Ash looked a little doubtful. Then he shrugged.

"And why are you here now?"

"I could tell you that I am impressed by the abilities of Flo The Amazing Wonderhorse, but the truth is that I am here because I wish you to return home with me."

Mr. Ash stared at Erestor. Then he laughed mirthlessly.

"Home? What home? I do not have a home anymore, Erestor. That is why I am here."

Erestor's face flushed with anger.

"Are you trying to tell me that you prefer the company of clowns and dancing poodles to the one of your family and your friends?"

Mr. Ash shook his head.

"I do have friends here as well, and my sons do not need me anymore."

Erestor shook his head.

"They need their father."

He reached out and touched Mr. Ash's cheek.

"I know how very much you miss your wife and that you loved her. But you knew it would come to this eventually when you married her, and you also know that her last wish was to see you finding happiness again."

Mr. Ash looked up. He would never have admitted it to Erestor, but it was good to feel his cool touch. It had been a very long time since anybody had showed him true affection.

"Let me be, Erestor," he finally begged. "Maybe clowns and dancing poodles are not the best of company, but at least nobody is giving me looks of pity here or lectures me on my duties towards my family."

"You are lonely," Erestor simply stated.

"I am," Mr. Ash replied. "But it is easier to be lonely here than with your people."

Erestor gently stroked his cheek.

"You would not need be lonely if you returned," he said. He leant in and kissed Mr. Ash, as if to repeat the offer he had made. The other hesitated for a moment, but then he opened up to the kiss, which was sweet and tender and honest. He dropped the brush and took Erestor in his arms, returning the kiss with increasing passion.

When he finally gave Erestor free, he took a deep breath.

"You love me," he said, gazing down at Erestor in wonder.

"Of course I do," Erestor replied. "Why else would I have watched this idiotic performance day after day? Only a lunatic or one in love would do."

Mr. Ash pressed a soft kiss on Erestor's forehead.

"I need time, Erestor. I care a lot for you, but still, I wish to stay here for a little while longer. I am not ready to return yet."

Erestor sighed.

"I already feared this would be your answer." He straightened up. "Very well, then I shall stay here as well. But not as a visitor."

Mr. Ash laughed.

"Does this mean you will join the circus and train dancing poodles?"

Erestor grinned.

"Oh no! I have a very special number in mind. 'Erestor and Orophin, the best archers on earth?' How do you like the ring of it?"

Mr. Ash raked his short, silverblond hair with his fingers. He thought this was the most terrible thing he had ever heard, but looking into Erestor's eyes, so full of love and trust, he could not help but laughing.

"I think it sounds wonderful, Erestor."

* * *

The End