Phew! It's finally over. Now I can go on with my life. I wished that BOTFA got the ending ROTK you to all my loyal readers especially zade 12 who never fails to drop a review.
Saving the Saviour: Final Chapter
The people are getting impatient. Bard has to leave Bain's bedside to deal with the mob outside the Great Hall. His heart only wishes to be by Bain's side but he has to appease the crowd, so Bain can have some peace and calm. Alfrid and the four men who conspired with him are put in chains at the landing. Now and then, there is rotten food thrown at the men. Bard wants so much that someone would throw rocks at these heartless men, but it pains him to see that Dale's history should be marred by public lynching.
"Alfrid stabbed your son! Still you're going to show him mercy?" Someone shouted.
"As much as I want these men dead for hurting my children, we are not savages," Bard says from the Great Hall's balcony.
"Dale will be remembered for its fairness and rightful sense of justice," Bard continues.
"So you will let murderers to run free in Dale!"
"My son is not dead!" Bard yells. He wishes that he has more conviction in saying that.
"My son's not dead..." he barely whispers now. BArd is reminded of blood pouring out of Bain like spilled water. He remembers that Bain became too weak to speak or open his eyes. He remembers that the she elf Tauriel has very little to work with. A dwarf has two hundred years to live, the elves thousands and men just a little after fifty years. Men are weakest even whole bodied, and they suffer most during injuries. Bard is reminded how Bain lose consciousness even before Tauriel could begin her work.
For every moment that passes, Bard feels that he dies a little bit each time. He is praying for a miracle that can save everybody. He swears that if Bain dies, he will not show these men mercy. And that is not something that will look pretty in Dale's annals for decades to come. How can so much history depends on only one thing, the thing he needs the most?
A tug at his sleeve makes Bard turns around. Tilda gestures to something behind him.
It is Tauriel coming up to him, her face rigid and her eyes wide.
Then Tauriel's face breaks into a smile and the elven lightness that he sees when Thranduil is pleased is reflected on her face. Bard can barely breathe.
"Your son shall live," Tauriel says.
Bard runs inside, the city be damned. Sigrid is with Bain, crying and smiling at the same time. Bard kneels next to his son. Bain's eyelids flutter.
"Da," Bain whispers. Bard holds Bain's hand and put them on his chest. He feels his son's heartbeat.
"Bain," Bard.
"You're alright, you're alright," Bards gushes, almost weeping.
"What chaos! And I have only been gone for two days."
The familiar voice makes Bard spin his head. Thranduil stands at the foot of Bain's bed. Bard has the feeling that Bain's revival is owed to him.
"Thranduil, you're back!"
"Your son will survive this ordeal. He's a strong young man."
"Thank you."
"And what say you to the men who did this to your son?"
Bard looks into Bain's eyes and says without hesitation.
"Banishment. For life. If they show their faces in Dale again, I will kill them with my bare hands."
*It takes five days for Bain to get back on his feet. Bard divides his time between watching over his son and managing the city. Thranduil and the elves suggests that a coronation is held as soon as possible to avoid prevent anarchy. A consensus is held and without the agitation caused by Alfrid, the citizens unanimously elect Bard as the King of Dale. The support of the elven kingdom of Mirkwood consolidates Bard's place as the people's new leader among other reasons that he is the most illegible candidate.
The coronation is held at the Great Hall, watched on by the on-the-mend Bain, Sigrid and Tilda. Among the honourable guests are royalty from kingdoms of men, Rohan dan Gondor. Emissaries from elven kingdoms of Rivendell, Lothlorien and Noldor are also present. The coronation is held in solemnness, without fanfare and waste. It is a coronation in a city getting back on its feet.
"The age of the elves is coming to an end," Thranduil says.
"This is the beginning of the dominion of men."
King Thranduil puts the elven made crown on the Dragon Slayer's head.
"Long live King Bard, the King of Dale!" King Thranduil proclaims to the crowd.
The people holler in unison. KingThranduil nods and pulls Bard into his embrace, adopting the gesture used by men to show camaraderie and affection. Bard the Dragon Slayer responds to the gesture readily. Bain, Sigrid and Tilda run to their father and they gather in his embrace.
"We're so proud of you, Da!" Tilda says.
"The three of you are my life," Bard says, finally feeling relief after one test after another came to him ever since the coming of the dwarves to Lake-Town.
"Your mother would be proud of all of you."
"She's proud of you too, Da!" Tilda says. Bard laughs, tears in his eyes.
*The wind blows frigidly and the first snow of winter has fallen. A lone figure dressed in black hunched slowly along the bridge away from Dale, passing the now charred Lake-Town. Two elves on horseback are following them. When they have arrived on the shore of the opposite side, one of them, the woman elf with red hair, reads out the sentence.
"Alfrid Lickspittle, former citizen of Lake-Town. You are sentenced to a lifetime of banishment from the city Dale. You're to leave and never to return henceforth. If you're seen in Dale, the ruler of the city bears the right to execute you."
Alfrid Lickspittle walks on, never to be seen again by people who have memory of him.
THE END