SUMMARY: Bard and Thranduil each take some time to reflect, and search their feelings.
Bard has an unexpected visitor, with some sound advice.
Thranduil knows what he wants, but has a huge problem.
Is there a solution?
xxxxxxxxxxx
Hope you enjoy this latest installment!
Thanks always for reading, and for your kudos and comments!
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Ruins of Dale; 3rd of December, 2941 T.A.
It had been an excellent evening.
After dinner and his Little Bean's joyous reunion with her friend, they all wiped their eyes, and said their thank-you's and goodbyes. The children kept up a happy babble on their way back to their own place, to get ready for baths and bed. It took a long time for them to settle down, because they were all so excited about their gifts. Once everyone was clean, Bain was sitting on his bed, running his hands over his bow, his fingers tracing the Elven words written on it. Sigrid was sitting cross-legged, looking through her new reference books, and Tilda was almost asleep, with Charlotte back where she belongs.
He couldn't believe Thranduil had found the doll, and the excellent job they did restoring her. The surprise didn't end there.
After Tilda had finally let go of her new friend, the King of the Woodland Realm, Galion cleared his throat, saying, "Excuse me My Lord, but I believe there is something else in the box, if the Lady Tilda would wish to look." If it would have been behavior becoming an Elf, Galion would have danced a jig, because he knew what was in there. Not even Thranduil knew about it.
Tilda lifted the little blanket underneath Charlotte, then squealed with delight.
The Tailor's Guild of the Woodland Realm had jumped at the challenge given to them by their King; to make the bedraggled, bloodstained doll look as good as new. Once that was finished, they had decided one set of clothing simply wasn't befitting a toy for the smallest Princess of Dale, and they were determined to rectify this. So, Charlotte was returned to her owner, accompanied by an entire wardrobe.
Sigrid knelt on the rug with her sister, going through everything the Elves had outfitted Charlotte with. Several dresses, in varying colors and styles had been provided: The everyday clothes were simpler, then a formal little gown in blue, after the fashions of the Laketown women. There was another formal gown, such as elves wear, in lavender, with gold embroidery. There was even a green uniform, like Tauriel's, complete with a little soft, leather jerkin. Additionally, there was a grey riding outfit, nightshirts, underclothes, stockings, cloaks and even several pairs of tiny boots and shoes.
Thranduil had stood up, while the girls were examining the contents of the box, and went to stand next to Bard. They both looked over at Galion who was as smug as Bard had ever seen him. "Did you know about this?" Bard asked him.
"Yes, My Lord. I cannot take credit for the idea, but I must say I heartily approve." From the look on Galion's face, he was having more fun pulling a fast one his King.
After they went back to their tent, long after his children were asleep, Bard sat at the table in his tent for a long time. His new, magnificent bow and quiver had been wrapped again lovingly, and put away under his cot. The lamps were lit, some papers were on the table in front of him, but he couldn't concentrate on them, so he sat back, and crossed his feet on another chair. His fingers absently stroked his chin, as he contemplated many things.
The last six weeks had been such a whirlwind. Love for his family had always been the main motivation for his thoughts and actions. Even the smuggling he did for the townspeople, stemmed from his need to provide for them. He did what he had to do - with the high taxes the Master had imposed, his kids would have been undernourished and ill with what his normal wages would buy. It was more to the good that other townsfolk had benefitted, too.
But it all was different, now! He'd never have to worry about his family eating well again, thanks to Thranduil. He knew until Dale could be self-sustaining, the Woodland Realm would provide it. This blessing would be the same for all his people; a plenty they'd never known, and a hope they had never known. After all the hardships and tragedies wrought upon his people, this was a new, better beginning.
His children were now a Prince and Princesses, and their lives were going to change in ways even Bard didn't know yet. He hoped their eagerness to serve would sustain them, because it will be an enormous adjustment to go from a poor, anonymous child, to representing your country every day, and the pressure on them would be great.
Ever since Mattie died, those three had been the most important beings in his life, but now, something was changing. Nothing would lessen his love or devotion for his children, but his heart was making room for something else.
His heart was making room for someone else...
He'd never been with anyone in a physical way before Mattie. In his youth, there were flirtations, some kissing, with both men and women; he enjoyed them both. Apart from some groping, a hand on a girl's breast, or another boy putting a hand on his cock, that had been it. Back then, those were dalliances of the young, based on hormones, infatuation, and curiosity. It felt wonderful, but wasn't the stuff of songs.
When he first saw Mattie, he felt like he'd been struck by a thunderbolt. Yes, she was beautiful and had eyes he could drown in. But he wanted to drown in her. He was lucky she felt the same way, because it would've been torture had she not returned his feelings. In this sense, he felt pity for Legolas. He couldn't imagine what the boy was going through.
Bard couldn't help but laugh. Boy? Ulmo's Balls... the Elf was probably a thousand years old! Now that was hard to get used to; the agelessness of their race.
When he and Mattie were married, their first night together was something that will burn in his memory forever. The incredible feeling of her soft, warm skin next to his; her beautiful body under his hands, exploring her, suckling on her breasts, while she moaned softly, her hands tangled in his hair. When he entered her wet, soft heat for the very first time was a perfection he had never even known could exist in this life.
Of course, men would talk about sex; they always talked about sex, didn't they? They made lewd jokes and sang bawdy songs and tried to make light of it. They bragged about their members, lied to each other about their accomplishments, trying to give the impression their conquests were many, and casual - Bard had done his share of this, too.
But when a man has really been with someone, body and soul, and when the act was borne from genuine, consuming love, it was completely overwhelming. After experiencing it with Mattie, Bard understood why many men turn into braggadocios: They were frightened, that's what it was. How could they not be, after they learned that truly making love with someone would slice open their souls, leaving it so bare, so open, so exposed?
That's what it was like with Mattie. He couldn't help but cry out when he first entered her, and it only got better from there. He couldn't begin describe the sensation the first time he came inside of her, and to feel her pulsating around him when she climaxed. It was like being enveloped in pure sunlight. Afterward, they lay in each other's arms, full of love and wonder. It was like that each time with her. For ten years, he was lucky enough to know the most perfect bliss this side of Arda.
When she died, it wasn't just his soul that was bereft; his skin screamed in agony at the sudden loss of the greatest joy it had ever known- joy it would never feel again within her. He'd never feel her softness or warmth again, never hear her soft cries as they were together. He still had physical needs and desires, so on the nights he would touch himself, it was Mattie he was pretending was there with him; thoughts of her moist heat, her hands, her mouth, her face, her noises, would cause him to get even harder, until lightening ran down to the base of his spine, and he found release. And he would lie there afterwards, feeling even more alone.
As Bard sat in his tent, thinking on these things, the memory of his wife and his loss washed over him anew. He missed her. Oh Valar, he missed her… He would've been the happiest man alive, if he could have grown old with his Mattie, to have her and hold her always, and watch their children grow up and give them grandchildren.
But it hadn't happened that way. Suddenly she was gone, and he'd been with no one since. It wasn't as if he didn't think about it; there were certainly a couple of women in Laketown who would've been more than willing, as well as one man. They were good people, too, and would've done their best to make him happy, and been kind and loving to his children.
He even stepped out a couple of times, in an attempt to move on with his life. Hilda forced him to try, but he just couldn't go far with it. When he kissed them – and he only kissed two, mind you - it was full of…nothing; it was the only way to describe it. Those kisses just reminded him of that void Mattie had left behind, and it was foolish to try and find something which he'd never have again. The attempt made him lonelier than ever.
Bard had decided that part of his life was over forever, and he should feel thankful he had it at all. Not everyone was blessed enough to find such a perfect match for his heart, and despite his loss, he was thankful. Best to let it go, and be done with it, he told himself. And he had. He resolved to let his memories be enough, and learned to find contentment with his children, and with his friends.
Then a bunch of Dwarves washed up on the shores of the Forest River, and the Mountain shook with the sounds of the Dragon awakening, and all he had known was gone. He was left with his children and the clothes on their backs and nothing to eat, when an Elvenking rode into Dale. During the last month and a half, he found himself questioning all he believed about himself, and his solitary life.
Everything was different, now. He thought about Thranduil constantly. He dreamed about him, even; one night he woke up to find he had come on himself during a dream of their bodies locked together. Then, when had his nightmare, he met Thranduil on the Eastern Parapet, and was taken to his tent. That night, he couldn't stand it anymore; he had to know what those lips tasted like! Maybe it was the wine that made him brave, but he had reached for the Elf, and hung on. Just the thought of it, even though it was only kissing, made his cock twitch now as the blood rushed to his loins.
He wanted Thranduil. He did. Valar, simply thinking of putting his hands on him, to feel him, to come in him, or perhaps Thranduil inside of him… Bard moaned softly, as he closed his eyes, and forced himself to stop thinking about it. He had to stop, because Bard had things to consider, before things went any further.
This was the fork in the road, and now was the time for him to decide which path he wouldtake.
At this point, he'd still be able to cease thoughts of Thranduil as a possibility for the good of his children, for his people, and this new Kingdom of Dale. He could do it, if he stopped right now. They could back off, and remain simply friends, and he could find a way to be content with it. It was important he consider carefully, because there wasn't just his own, or even Thranduil's feelings involved. There was so much outside noise about all of this, and it all had to be settled before he would feel free to follow where his heart seemed to point.
He had to think of the children first, of course. Would they be all right? Would a relationship with the Elf benefit them, or could it hurt them? Would they be damaged at all, if something were to happen that ended their relationship, such as a separation, or death?
No. Even if the worst were to happen, they would be fine. Should something occur that would should cause a break-off with the Elvenking, the children had enough support and love from so many others, they would make it through. Plus, and this was a huge consideration: Thranduil possessed quality and honor and would still maintain affection for them, should he no longer have it for their father. And if Bard were to die, he knew Thranduil would watch over and support throughout their lives.
What about his people? How would they feel about their King being with an Elf? What about the fact their King would be with another man? He knew there were a few people that held strong opinions in his country. But, overall, this was not something to be worried about. There was a blend of cultures in Laketown, and he was looking forward to continuing this, in Dale. Middle Earth was not riddled with the utter stupidity of religious or moral wars. Yes, most of the reasons for starting a war were senseless, but never something so ridiculous as murdering people because they had different theologies.
So that's settled, he thought.
Dale is a new country - what about diplomatic relations? This is a grave concern. What if Dale had to depend upon a relationship with a nation that had serious issues with it? Bard didn't know how countries in other lands would feel about a King being with a man, and it could cause consequences for his people.
But that was no longer an obstacle. His country was under the permanent protection of the Woodland Realm. Two days before, as promised, Thranduil presented him with the document bearing his seal and signature which affirmed the Woodland Realm's commitment to protect and aide Dale, with no expiration date. This reassured Bard his city was safe regardless of what would come.
He had also heard there was a country to the East of them whose ruler had seven wives! It stood to reason, the various Free Nations who were willing to treat with each other did not seem judgmental about traditions of the other, so that was a huge comfort.
Finally, it was down to the Elf himself. What would Thranduil want out of this? Did he want the same things Bard did? What are their traditions and their customs concerning such a thing? He honestly didn't know. He knew he wanted Thranduil. He knew he could love him; he probably already did. But, Bard knew himself: He could never settle for a meaningless dalliance. It was simply not what he wanted, and he couldn't pretend otherwise. He wanted to be all in, heart and soul, or he would have to walk away. He couldn't be something he was not. If he tried, it would end in disaster.
There was another problem. This was the biggest obstacle, and the final one.
Bard's life span would only allow him another thirty-five to forty years. More if he was lucky; less if he was killed or fell ill. Either way, Bard could live the rest of his natural life happy with Thranduil. Long or short, he would have a happy end. But there was no conceivable way for the Elvenking to have the same. For him, it will end in grief…
How could he do it to him, if he truly cared about him?
At this, Bard let out a sad sigh, and closed his eyes.
He should forget this whole thing, no matter what Thranduil wants. He'd been horribly scarred by the death of his wife, and the loss of his son! How could he go through with this, knowing he'd tear Thranduil's heart open again when he died? It was reprehensible! If he were to allow himself to be with Thranduil, even if they had several decades of happiness, Bard would end up abandoning him, leaving him grieving, again.
No. He could never let that happen. This all must stop, and it must stop now. Bard did love him; he had to admit it to himself. But he loved Thranduil too much to cause him pain. He was going to step back, stay friends with the Elvenking, and offer companionship, but no more. It might be enough. He'd make it be enough, for Thranduil's sake...
Something happened then.
And for the rest of Bard's life, he would avow the truth of what happened next.
He felt a warm hand on his chest, filling his heart with warmth, and he gasped.
"Bard?" A voice said his name.
He looked up, and there she was.
Mattie, his Mattie, with her light brown hair, those amazing blue eyes, and the face that made him her willing prisoner.
She was ethereal, almost transparent, but she was there…
A sob escaped him; he couldn't help it, he missed her so much. Mattie tilted her head and smiled patiently at him. She opened her mouth and he heard her beautiful voice, like a whisper on the wind; her beautiful voice that could sing and wake the whole world up in the morning…
"Bard, my love?" she asked, in that same loving, no-nonsense way of hers, "Would you have wanted me to stay away from you, if we'd known I wouldn't be with you for long?"
"Oh, my Mattie," he sobbed, tears on his face, "My Mattie..." It was the only thing that would come out of his mouth; it was what he always called her.
"Should I have turned away, if we knew I would leave you?" She asked again. He simply sat, staring at her, afraid to answer, lest this vision, or whatever it was, ended. But she was demanding an answer from him, and he made himself think about it.
It wasn't a tough choice, after all.
"No, my love." Bard stood up before the apparition of his Mattie, and stepped closer to her. His voice trembled, as he whispered softly, "I would do it all again, a thousand times, if it meant I could be with you,"
He meant it. He couldn't imagine a life without Mattie, or the children she gave him, and the moments of pure happiness he had had with her.
Her next words filled his heart with hope:
"Don't be afraid to love again, Bard. You were the best of husbands to me, and you're good and kind to our children. I'm glad I'll always be in your heart, and you'll always be in mine. But, now it's time for you to go."
Then she gave him the same smile she used to give him in the mornings, before he went out on the lake. She would hand him his lunch, kiss him, then turn him around and give him a shove in the middle of his back…
…which he felt. He felt warmth of lips on his, that very same hand on his back, he knew so well... Mattie smiled and said the words he heard each morning as he walked out the door.
"Now, be off with you, my handsome man, and bring the world home for supper!"
And she disappeared.
Bard sat back down and covered his mouth, as the tears fell. Was that real, or did he imagine it? Was he losing his mind?
But he knew she had been there. More important, Mattie was right.
It was time for him to go.
He shot up out of his chair and grabbed his coat. He went to the entrance and saw Tauriel in front of her quarters next door. "Tauriel, if you wouldn't mind staying with the children, something has come up and I have to go. Now."
"Of course, My Lord. I will watch over them as long as you need me to." She gave him a reassuring smile.
"I…don't know if I will be back tonight, so if you would please get them off tomorrow?" He was a bit sheepish.
"If the children ask, I will tell them you were called away. I should to tell you; Sigrid has her suspicions, although she has never said anything to me."
He let out a long breath. "Is it that obvious?"
She smiled at him. "Not to everyone, but I know the King more than most, and I have not seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Pardon me for saying, but I see the same in you. Your oldest daughter is blessed with a keen eye, as well. But I do not think any others have bothered to think about it."
He smiled back at her. "You certainly are pardoned. I consider you family, Tauriel, and I appreciate your thoughts and ideas. Don't ever think you should hold back if you have something to say, all right? I suppose, since I am your King now, I should make that an official edict."
"If you like. Either way, I will follow your instructions, as I am fond of your family."
"Thank you." Bard turned to go.
"My Lord?"
"Yes?"
She put her hand on his arm. "I wish you well. You both deserve to be happy."
Now that he had made up his mind he couldn't wait to start this part of his life; he would follow this path, until something or someone stopped him.
He had to find out.
Bard strode through his settlement and toward the Elvenking's tent at a brisk pace, with Daeron keeping up behind him. As he walked, his heart started pounding, and he moved faster, as if he was afraid Thranduil might be gone, if he didn't get there right now.
When he finally saw Thranduil's tent up ahead, he did start running. He reached it, and ran inside...
Thranduil had been waiting for him.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
After dinner, Thranduil had managed to hold back his tears when little Tilda hugged him so tight. His heart swelled to know he had made her so happy. She was such an enchanting child; her big blue eyes could melt the heart of and Orc, she was so sweet. All of the children were sweet.
Bard and his family had left his tent with their escorts, leaving it almost too quiet. He had enjoyed listening to them talk; they were intelligent children, and Bard, despite their former straights, had raised them well. Their questions were amusing, but well-intentioned, especially little Tilda's. Bard had been keeping him abreast of her recovery, but he was gratified to see it for himself.
When Legolas was small, he loved to hug his mother and father like Tilda; so tight, as he they couldn't escape. It used to make Mírelen laugh, because no matter what trouble Legolas would get into - and he could get into plenty – he'd make up for it at night with those hugs. He probably did it because he knew it kept his parents from staying mad at him; he was a smart little ellon, and wasn't above using his cuteness to get his way.
When Tauriel was child, after they had finally found her in the kitchens when she had gone missing, Legolas was a wreck. He was already grown, so he had forgotten the times he had frightened the wits out of the Palace by hiding in places even Thranduil hadn't known existed. As Thranduil carried a sleeping, jam-covered Tauriel back to their rooms, he told Galion perhaps Legolas was getting his comeuppance; the mischief he'd caused was more imaginative than anything Tauriel could come up with.
He wished Mírelen could have known the little red-haired elleth. She'd be the first to suggest moving her into the Royal Apartments, and would have insisted she'd be put into the nursery adjoining their bedroom, and love her like her own. She and Thranduil had always wanted another child. Having Legolas made their life so rich, they could only imagine how much more it could be if a little brother or sister could have joined them.
Bard's words about going on after he lost his wife, Matilda, resonated with him. Especially when Bard said he would always love her, but how it gets easier to remember the good things, after a time. Maybe this was the case for himself, as well. Maybe Thranduil's reluctance to face his loss head on, was because he was afraid this love would leave him altogether, and he'd be left even more bereft.
Oh, he missed Mírelen! He truly did; she was continuously in his heart, in his thoughts, and she always would be. Yet, despite stubbornly avoiding it, his sense of love and loss had changed over time.
It was a mistake to remove all the reminders of her - he knew that now. How could he honor her memory if he tried to pretend as if she'd never existed? For all that she was to him, for all that she was to his people, she deserved to be forever honored as a good elleth, a wonderful wife, a loving mother, and a Queen who was as devoted to their people as he was.
"Goheno nin, Meleth nîn." Thranduil whispered to Mírelen, hoping, somehow, she could hear him. He wanted her forgiveness for neglecting their past.
When he returned home, he would rectify this. Her portraits and tapestries would be hung up again, and he would rescind his decree not to say her name in his presence. It was a beautiful name, she was beautiful; it was time to start thinking of their memories as beautiful, too.
He had been in mourning for her longer than their marriage had even lasted! Thranduil wondered: if he'd known he would lose her like he had, would he have still married her? Would he gave gone through with everything? Excluding Legolas, - who he couldn't imagine not having - if he knew when he wed her, that he would suffer centuries of agony for it, would he do it?
He knew his answer immediately.
What they'd had, what he felt when he touched her hair, her face, and her body; what he'd felt when they made love. When she sat beside him in the throne room, or when he saw her across the table in the mornings, and looking sleepy and grumpy. What he felt, when he saw her face holding their brand-new son, was worth it.
It was all worth it. He knew this in his heart now, and it somehow made it easier.
But... he had begun have real feelings for Bard, though he never expected to. Thranduil didn't understand how it was possible, but there it was, and it was time to face it.
Something began when they started meeting in his tent, in the weeks before the Battle. Then, during their meetings after, it blossomed. Things felt so right when he was around, and when he wasn't, there was an increasing sense of his absence, of something missing.
The night Bard spent here, when they were kissing in his bed, was the most physical contact he had had in countless years; of course his body would react after so long without!
But, when he woke up wrapped in Bard's arms, it was…he couldn't come up with words, how it was.
Yes, he wanted Bard's body, and he wanted it badly. It had been weeks since he had helped Bard into his bath, and the memory of his muscular body, with all that hair was the source of wanton fantasies that left him aching at night.
Thranduil wanted to bed him, yes, but it was more than that; he wanted all of Bard. He wanted Bard's heart, his spirit, his intelligence, his natural leadership, his love for his children.
He wanted all of Bard, because he loved all of Bard.
He hadn't known it for certain, until he'd looked over Tilda's shoulder and met Bard's eyes that were looking back at him with something made his heart leap. In that moment, Thranduil realized, he was deeply in love Bard, Heir of Girion, King of Dale.
Thranduil was scared to death. This should feel wonderful, but it didn't. This was dangerous. How could he let this happen?
"My Lord?"
Galion entered Thranduil's, tent to find him sitting on his cushioned throne, and staring off into space. Galion was surprised to see him so sober and pensive, after the merriment earlier this evening.
"Yes, Galion, what is it?"
"There is nothing, Sire. I simply wanted to ask if you were all right. If I may, you seem rather lost in thought, and I was afraid there might be something amiss."
Still not looking at his Chief Aide, Thranduil spoke, "It was a successful dinner with Bard's family, was it not?"
"Yes, it was, My Lord. For my part, I enjoyed it very much. They are good children."
Thranduil turned his head and smiled up at Galion, "Your surprise for little Tilda was a success, and a thoughtful touch. Thank you."
Galion grinned. "That it was. I shall relay your compliments, as well as the children's enthusiasm, to the Guild. They did a fine job."
"Speaking of the Tailor's Guild, if they would be willing to make some more toys for the children over and above their own duties, I will see they are well-paid. I think it will help the young ones, as I see how much comfort Tilda finds in her doll. Let us particularly make sure the orphans have as much as they can."
"I will send a message to them tomorrow, to start right away." Galion gave a conspiratorial grin. "I wonder if they are not already doing this, though. Tauriel tells me the Dwarf Bofur has expressed a wish to also present them with toys. I find it hard to believe our Elves will allow themselves to be outdone; it would be a matter of pride."
Thranduil gave a little laugh. The idea of the Dwarves and the Elves competing over how much they could give to those children amused him, and would only bring joy to the little ones. "I would not be surprised, but I think it would be good for them to have compensation for so much work. Their time has already been taxed, making clothing for the refugees. They are coping well."
"I will also send your sentiments regarding this, if I may. They have been working hard, and they will appreciate it."
"I still have not broached the subject with Lord Bard about the welfare of the orphans, but I plan to soon. I have sent orders to the Palace to have guard rails put up on the walkways, in the event there will human children coming. I'm going to suggest they come and winter in the Palace. At the least, the Prince and Princesses of Dale will be visiting the Palace, now, and I will not compromise their safety." Thranduil told him.
"Excellent notion, Sire. Even the adults of the race of Men lack the balance of Elves, so it will protect them as well." Galion had not thought of this, but he was glad to see his King had. The idea of visitors and children wandering the Halls pleased and excited him.
After a moment or two, Thranduil seemed to have decided something, and gestured to the other armchair.
"Please sit, Galion. I would like to speak with you."
"Of course." Galion sat, waiting expectantly. "Is there something on your mind?"
Thranduil crossed his legs, and stared off into space again.
"I was thinking of how much I miss my wife."
The Chief Aide was taken aback. It had been a long, long time since they spoke of her. "I miss her as well," he said quietly.
"I know you do. We all do. She was… She was perfect for me and Legolas, and she was perfect for all the Realm. There will never be another like her."
"I am glad to know you are thinking about her, Thranduil. I want to say, if I may, I am glad you are speaking of her as well, even if it's only a little."
"I think of her all the time, though I have tried not to." As he looked off, his eyes blurred. "I did not think I would ever get past losing her…" He sniffed, swallowed, and ran his hand over his face. "Did you know Bard also lost his wife?"
"I had heard something to that effect. Childbirth, am I correct? I have heard this can happen with their race."
"Little Tilda never knew her mother."
"It is sad to think about." Galion waited for more.
"I…" A heavy sigh. "I do not understand how… I still miss Mírelen, but now I feel…"
After a moment, Galion said, "Yes?"
"I think… I know, I have developed feelings for Lord Bard, and I do not know if it is right."
He said it. It was out, and this encouraged Aide, who kept his voice calm and soothing. "Can you tell me why you think this way?"
"I have already loved once, Galion! I loved Mírelen with all my heart, and our fëas were joined! I did not think it could happen again."
"It is extremely unusual, Thranduil, but it has happened. Finwë, if you recall, had two wives."
All Elves knew the story of Fëanor, and the Silmarils, but it wasn't often recalled his father had been married twice: His first wife had been Míriel Serindë, mother of Fëanor, and after her death, he had married Indis, mother of his four other children. Thranduil's cousin's wife, Galadriel, was descended from that second union.
Thranduil gave a sarcastic laugh. "That story ended well, did it not?"
"But you must consider that it was a different Age, and it was not on Middle Earth. I believe these are crucial differences. Plus, this is the only second marriage we know of in Elven Lore, but that does not mean there might not be other Elves who have married twice. If they do no great deeds, their lives do not tend to be recorded."
The King considered this. "This is an excellent point."
"May I speak freely, Thranduil?"
"Yes, I would like you to."
"I have noticed you and King Bard have become close friends. I have wondered if this was going to be something more, which seems to be, from what I can see of you two looking at each other. I was surprised at first, but not in the way you might believe. I, too wondered how this could be, as you were joined with Queen Mírelen, but I did not worry much."
"Why not?"
"Because I have seen what your time with Lord Bard has done for you! The answer as to how you can care for him, is beyond my ability to know, so it does not matter; I am just pleased to see some happiness return to you."
"Bard is not an Elf." Thranduil said.
"It is of no consequence, I think. The King of Dale embodies the best qualities of his race; he is honest, hardworking, has a desire for wisdom, and a deep love for his family and his people. I believe he is worthy as Consort to the King of the Woodland Realm, not merely to Thranduil, the Elf."
Thranduil gave a wry laugh. "I do not think the Council would share your sentiments. They will certainly want to have a say in this, because my decision to join with someone of the race of Men could jeopardize the Woodland Realm."
Galion's eyes widened, but said nothing.
"Even if Bard was willing, my Kingdom must be my first priority, Galion. If I join with Bard, I could become Mortal, and who would be there for my people?"
Thranduil got up and started pacing, becoming agitated, "I have done my best to run my life, run my Kingdom to benefit my people. I even was willing to die for it when..." He couldn't speak of the Dragon.
"I have done everything I believed the Valar wished me to, and what is my reward? My father was taken from me, and I carried on. My mother left me, and I carried on. My wife was taken from me, and I struggled not to fade. I carried on, half of what I once was, for my Kingdom!"
He was angry, now. "And, because I did not fade, I barely functioned as an Elf and I ruined my relationship with my son! For my kingdom!" he roared, and his hands clenched at his sides.
"Then this Man, this human is suddenly here before me, and I cannot stop how I feel! I love him, and I cannot not have him!" His voice broke, and he stood still, looking up at the ceiling, and swallowed.
"Worst of all, Galion, Bard will be here for decades; barely out of reach for me! I will have to endure his presence, knowing I turned away a chance at love, and when he dies I will mourn for him as if he was my mate anyway! FOR MY KINGDOM! What am I supposed to do!"
He gave a loud growl, and went to the small table by his throne and swept it free of its contents, sending papers and his empty cup flying. Then he leaned over it, grabbing the edge with both hands, panting slightly.
Galion listened with sympathy. His King was finally beginning to come alive inside, to feel things deeply, and it might be that he will have to face yet more tragedy. It was hard to believe the Valar could wished this for Thranduil! Galion found it difficult not to be angry on his King's behalf.
Thranduil calmed himself, and wearily sat down. "I am sorry I shouted. I am tired of looking to the Valar for guidance, and being rewarded by grief." He wiped his eyes, then rubbed his forehead.
"Galion, I know how I feel. I know for me, it is too late; I am already in love with Bard." Thranduil closed his eyes and whispered, "I think I have known this for some time, but I was afraid to face it." Then he looked at Galion with weary eyes, and asked him, "Why would they be so cruel? I do not understand why this happened, unless it was only to dangle this in front of me, knowing I could never grasp it? Why?"
Galion's eyes blurred. It was a cruel situation. He loved this Elf as a son, and he watched for all his King's life how hard he worked to please his parents, his people, his wife, his Kingdom, and the Valar. It was unfair, to know he would once again be facing loss.
Yet, the Aide had hope in his heart.
He put a comforting hand on the King's knee. "Thranduil, I cannot be convinced all is lost. I understand why you question all of this, and it yes, it appears to be pitiless, but I suspect this is not what is intended for you. There has got to be a way to answer these questions."
Thranduil, frustrated, angry and hopeless, answered with sarcasm, "Oh? And who do you think could possibly help me?"
"I have an idea of someone…"
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
Goheno nin, Meleth nîn – Forgive me, my love