Chapter Twelve
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SUMMARY: While Legolas travels from Rivendell to Lothlórien, we spend some more time with our friends in Dale:
It's Bard's birthday again, and the King's enjoy a morning surprise, until Tilda gets a bit curious.
Daeron and Rhian are ready to go back home, but they make a stop, so he can introduce his wife to a friend of his...
And Galion meets Rôg, the new Blacksmith, and is absolutely not impressed. At all.
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I'll stand by you, I'll stand by you
Won't let nobody hurt you
I'll stand by you
Take me in, into your darkest hour
And I'll never desert you
I'll stand by you…
-from "I'll Stand by You," by The Pretenders
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City of Dale; 18th of May 2944 T.A.
"Surprise!"
Bard and Thranduil sat up in bed with sleepy smiles, as Tilda and the rest of the children burst into the Royal Bedchamber. Sigrid and Tauriel were each carrying a breakfast tray.
"Happy Birthday, Da!" Tilda climbed up on the bed and snuggled between them. "Ada never likes to tell what day his birthday is, so we decided to make you celebrate it together." She turned to him and kissed his cheek. "Happy birthday, Ada!"
"Begetting day," Sigrid corrected. "Elves celebrate the day they were conceived."
"What does 'concieved' mean?" Tilda turned to Thranduil.
"It is when I was first created." He told her.
"You mean when you get in your Mam's tummy?"
"Yes," he answered, not entirely happy with where this was going. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tauriel and Sigrid cover their mouths in amusement as Bain snickered.
"But how can you know what day that was?"
Bard raised his eyebrow at him and answered. "Elves can tell those kinds of things, Beanie."
"How?"
"We can 'see' the spark of new life, when it appears."
"You mean in your Mam's stomach? You can see that?" Tilda looked between her fathers and asked the question everyone knew was coming. "But how did you get there?"
Thranduil held his breath, and blushed, as everyone in the room looked to him for the answer. He managed to come up with, "In the same way humans do, Tithen Pen."
"But how?"
"Perhaps your Da can answer that." He said and pretended not to see Bard's filthy look.
Bain snickered, threw up his hands and said, "I've got to get ready for school."
"Me, too," Sigrid giggled and was out the door behind her brother.
Bard put his arm around their youngest and changed the subject. "Look at all this food!" he handed Tilda a piece of toast. "I can't eat all of this. Did you help Cook make this again?"
"Uh huh." She took it and started munching. "He let me butter the toast, and mix up the eggs, but he said the stove is too big here, so he had to cook them. One of the maids made the tea." She looked apologetically at her Da. "I don't know if you'll like it, though, cause I didn't do it." [1]
Bard frowned and sighed heavily. "Well, Ada and I will try to tolerate it."
"Here," Thranduil handed her a piece of bacon. "It was nice of you to include me in the breakfast this year."
"Well, you never want us to give you a party or anything, so Sigrid and Tauriel said you and Da have to do your birthdays together now."
"Works for me," Bard kissed the top of her head.
Once the meal was finished, and Tilda was off to get dressed, Bard leaned over to him, and kissed his neck. "That was a close call, wasn't it?"
"Please, do not make me tell her of the birds and the bees…" Thranduil winced.
"Oh, I think she'll forget all about it for now. Don't worry."
"A, galu…" The Elvenking sighed. "Let that be the end of it, at least for a while."
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But it wasn't.
Thranduil held Tilda's hand as they walked through the streets of Dale. It was a warm day, and the skies were overcast. "It might rain later, so make sure you pack all your papers in your book bag, yes?"
"Okay." She said, thoughtfully, then added. "Ada?"
"What is it, my little love?"
"How do Elves put a baby in a Mam's tummy? Is it magic?"
Ai! He winced. "In a… manner of speaking…"
"But why only the Mam's? Why can't Adas do that?"
Ruvyn, burst into laughter, but at Thranduil's look, quickly turned it into to a cough.
"Well…" he began.
"I mean, I don't get why only boys and girls can get one. Elves are different, right?"
"Er… Why do you ask?"
"Because! Wouldn't it be great if you and Da could get a baby? I could be a big sister!"
More coughing – from both Ivran and Ruvyn, this time.
"Tilda, I think you need to speak to Auntie Hil, when she gets home from the Palace. Wait to discuss this with her, all right?"
"Okay," she shrugged, then began to skip. "Why did she go without us?"
"She meets with all the children who have been adopted by Elves several times a year."
"But why? The Elves are nice!"
"Thank you. But she must make sure those children are happy and have everything they need."
"But what if they're sad?"
"Then she will try to help them." He smiled down at her. "Do not worry, Tithen Pen; the children are in good hands."
"I hope so." She continued to skip, as she held his hand.
Thranduil's heart clenched, and he wished, not for the first time, that he could slow the passage of time. His baby would not be one for much longer, and her sweet innocence would be gone.
Tonight, a small supper party with gifts was planned, but their family remained incomplete. As much as he loved Bard and the children, the weight of his estrangement with his son overshadowed everything. He wanted a chance to love his son openly, and selfishly, he wanted Legolas to love him, too. It hurt to think he might not.
He squeezed Tilda's hand and sighed.
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Bard's Hunting Lodge; 20th of May 2044 T.A.
"I am as eager to see Darryn as you are, Meleth nîn, but could we stop for a short time on the way home?" Daeron asked his wife. "I have a friend I would like you to meet."
"What kind of friend, babe?" Rhian stopped and leaned on the broom.
"My tree." Daeron pulled the sheets off the bed and piled them with the other towels. Rhian was busy sweeping the floor of the Lodge, while he was packing up the rest of the food and placing the laundry in bags.
Their personal clothing, including Rhian's exquisite wedding dress, was packed carefully in the trunk, the dishes were washed and put in the cupboard, the small barn was cleaned, the horses were saddled and ready to go. A wagon would be sent later to pick up the rest of their luggage.
Rhian took one last look around with a sigh. "I'm going to miss this place. This has been the best week of my entire life."
Daeron came up behind her and gathered her small frame into his arms. "I love you."
She turned around, stood on tiptoe and kissed him. "I love you, too," she smiled, then became serious. "I know we talked about things before we joined, but you have to tell me the truth: do you regret giving up your life in Valinor for me?"
He took her by the hands, and they sat down on the bed. "Rhian, of course I am saddened that I will not see the Undying Lands, and I will miss my parents and Turamarth, when they sail." He swallowed and cupped her cheek. "There will always be a wish that I could have had both you and them, and if I were to say different, I would be lying. But the truth, the absolute truth is that I want you; I choose you." He put his arm around her. "Some part of me always knew that I was destined for something different, Hind Calen. I love my people, and I am proud of my heritage, but when I first came to Dale to work for King Tîrevan all those centuries ago, I… felt like I had come home, and those people…" he shrugged, "I knew it was where I was supposed to be." [2] He kissed her temple.
"I am 1,995 years old, Hind Calen. Since I reached my majority at one hundred years, I have served my King, first as a soldier, then as a Healer, and I am proud of all that I have accomplished."
"And you're sure you still have your gifts?" Rhian's eyes were worried. "What if you didn't, and you realize you miss them, and start to resent that? I'm terrified, Daeron! You gave up so much for me…"
He regarded her for a moment. "I do not feel the loss in my fëa, but perhaps we both will feel better if we can see for ourselves. Lie back." He eased her until she was lying flat on the bed, and he sat beside her and placed his hands on her heart. "Take some deep breaths and quiet your mind, then place your hands over mine."
"Why?"
"Our fëas are one, now, and I want to check something." He spoke softly. "Are you ready?"
After a few minutes of stillness, Daeron could "see" his wife's heart beating in her chest, and the blood flowing easily through its chambers in a strong, steady rhythm. His own heart lurched, and he smiled when he heard Rhian gasp. It was true then; he didn't lose anything.
"Alae, Hind Calen," he whispered, "do you see how your heart beats for me?"
She sat up swiftly. "That's… that's what you do? I mean, I know that's what you do, but I never… Why didn't I think of us doing this before?" she babbled. "We've been here all week, and we're only now checking this out?"
Daeron laughed and mussed her hair. "We were too busy doing other things, Hervess nîn."
"Like what, Hervenn nîn?" she said coyly. "You mean, giving me the best sex I've ever had my life?"
"Speak for yourself, Rhian." He nudged her. "It is the only sex I have ever had."
"Darling, if that was you as an amateur," she leaned closer to his ear and whispered in a filthy voice, "I can't wait for you to fuck me when you're an expert!" and she leaned up and licked the tip of his ear, making him shiver.
If she weren't wearing riding clothes, he'd throw her on her back and lift her skirts…
"Mmmm…" he grabbed her face and kissed her hard, and when they finally came up for air, he said, "I do love you, and I love making love with you…"
"But?" she gave him a wicked smile.
"I miss our son. And I want to show you my tree on the way home."
She sighed, and pretended to be disappointed, but in truth, he could see her eyes dance when he mentioned Darryn. "We're all finished here." She got up and held out her hand.
They picked up the bags they were going to take with them, and went outside and locked the door behind them, but not before one last look around and a sigh. This time had been pure magic, and he'd always treasure it, but he was ready to face the world again.
They rode in relaxed silence, knowing there were Guardians keeping watch over them in the trees. Daeron offered up a few friendly whistles, and smiled when they were returned, saying there was no danger in their vicinity.
He would miss his military work, but he felt good about giving it up. He had plenty to keep him busy in the Healing House of Dale, especially since the population was growing by leaps and bounds, not to mention he was the personal Healer for all members of the Royal Family and the household staff.
The rest of his time he wanted to spend with his new family. He wanted to be a true, present, and loving father to Darryn, because he now understood the pain of his King; these years were fleeting, even to a human parent, but it will be especially painful for both of them when Darryn gets older…
"Hind Calen?"
"Hmmm?" she said dreamily. She looked so beautiful as the light shimmered between the trees.
"You worried that I would miss my family, and I was touched by your concern. I confess to being worried for you, as well."
"How so?"
"Just as King Bard will have to pay a price for choosing to marry his husband, so will you, Meleth nîn. Our Darryn will not outlive us. You understand this, do you not?"
She looked straight ahead and didn't say anything for a few minutes. "I have thought of that, yes. It will break my heart, too, but I made my choice and it's the right one.
"Before you and I became engaged, you sent Hannah to talk to me, and to make sure I knew exactly what I agreed to when I said 'yes.' I'm glad you did."
"Your father did not want me to speak of marriage, and I wanted to keep my promise to him. But yes, I asked Hannah to help."
"Well, you know I spoke with Elénaril, but after that, I went to see Glélindë, and we had a long talk."
"You did?"
"Yes. She and Feren are going to have to go through the same thing when their girls die. Nothing can change that. Even if Alis or Dafina marry Elves, they would not share their space in the Undying Lands, so they would truly be sundered." She looked at Daeron sadly. "At least you and I have the comfort of knowing our family will be together again, one day, but for those two, it really will be goodbye forever."
"What did she tell you?"
"If, Valar forbid, something happened to Darryn tomorrow and we lost him, would the pain you feel make you wish he'd never come into your life?" Lines appeared in Rhian's forehead. "I could lose you, to an injury or an accident, even if you hadn't given up your future for me. You could lose me, too. Would it be better to stay away from each other?"
"No. But I fear that will not be much comfort when we sing at Darryn's funeral."
"I don't expect it will, and we'll need each other to lean on. But mixed in all those tears will be memories that I cherish. And if we have grandchildren, we will see Darryn's eyes, or hear his laugh. It's the love, darling. We'll keep his memory and remember the love and that will hold us until we can see him, and Da, and Hannah, and all of our friends again."
He understood. No matter what the race, no matter the lifespan, everything is a risk. "I married a smart woman." Daeron smiled. "Ah! We are here." He stopped Aegis and dismounted. He helped his wife down from her horse, then he helped Rhian climb up into the giant Oak tree.
"Is this easier now that you and I are one?"
"I wouldn't know," she laughed. "This is the first time I've ever climbed a tree!"
"Û, Law!" he was taken aback. "Never?"
"Daeron? I grew up on a lake. In a crappy shanty-filled city on a lake," she grinned. "But to answer your question, it seems easy, except that I'm," she reached up, "a lot shorter than you! Help me up, would you!"
Daeron grabbed her hand and settled them both comfortably. He sat against the trunk and wrapped his arms around her. "Meleth nîn, this is Doron. Two years ago, I sat on this very branch, and told him all about you, and about Sellwen." He said softly, as his arms tightened. "I can't tell you how happy I am to introduce you." [3]
"Really?" she turned her head to look up. "Do you think he'll like me?"
"Let us find out. Once again, settle yourself, and close your eyes…"
The next several moments were spent in utter silence, and soon they both could feel the soft brush of leaves against them. Rhian gasped in surprise, and he could sense her wonderment and joy.
"What do you think of our friend, Hind Calen?" He kissed behind her ear. "He is happy for me and he likes you very much."
"Oh, my…" She shook her head. "I could tell... Somehow, I just knew…"
"I have no idea how much you will change, now that we are fully married. But our bond allowed me to do this for you."
"I love you," she leaned her head back on his shoulder and kissed him. "I'm so happy."
An hour later, they walked up the steps to Rhian's house – and as of today, Daeron's new home – and opened the front door.
"We're home!" Rhian called out. "Where is everybody?"
They walked into the sitting room, and through the windows to the back, they could see Ben, Hannah and Turamarth, who was swinging Darryn in his arms.
"Oh, there he is!" She breathed, then took off out the back door, with Daeron closely behind. "Darryn! Mama's home!"
"MAMA!" the little boy screamed and wiggled to be put down. Then he ran towards them with his arms wide. "Mam!"
Daeron's heart was full, as she watched his wife pick up their son and bury her face in his dark, wavy hair.
"Oh, my baby…" she sniffled. "I missed you."
"Miss'd you!" the baby said. "Where you go?"
"Oh, your Ada and I went on a little trip." She kissed his cheek. "But we're back now!"
Ben and Hannah were there, enveloping the couple with hugs and kisses. "Welcome home, kids!" he said.
Then it was Tur's turn. "You look… well-rested," he joked as he hugged his cousin tight.
"Be good," he scowled. "How are things at the apartment?"
"Empty." Turamarth admitted. "But the good news is, I won't have to pick up after you, anymore. Rhian?" he smiled at his new cousin. "Daeron is a terrible slob, did you notice?"
"Oh, I think I can handle that. It couldn't be any worse than the mess Darryn makes."
"Oh, Tur knows all about that, pet," Hannah laughed. "You should have seen the state of the house after he babysat Darryn this week!"
"You?" Daeron's mouth dropped open.
"Do not look so surprised! Of course, I helped look after my little nephew; I even took him to the Park."
"Were you good for Uncle Tur, sweetheart?" Rhian rubbed noses with her son.
At that, both Ben and Hannah burst into laughter.
"What happened?" Daeron asked them.
"Nothing…" Turamarth's blushed and his ears turned bright red.
"Oh, piffle," Hannah put her arm around Tur's shoulders. "They're going to find out sooner or later; better it be from us than from someone else."
"What did you do to our son?" Daeron demanded, growing increasingly concerned.
"What did I do to him? Ask me what he did to me!"
"Come on you lot," Hannah waved them inside. "Let's sit down for supper and I'll tell you all about it."
Darryn clung to his mother at first, but by the time supper was over, he was crawling into Daeron's lap and calling him "Ada." When Hannah told them about Uncle Tur's misadventure, Daeron and Rhian laughed until their sides hurt, but then Rhian felt sorry for Turamarth, petted, and fussed over the poor Elf until he began to laugh too. Darryn laughed with them and clapped his hands whenever they said the word "swing."
It was a wonderful evening, and when Daeron walked his cousin to the door to say good night, they embraced. "Are you truly well?" he whispered.
"I will be, Gwador." Tur said. "Now stop feeling sorry for me and go take care of your new family."
Soon after, it was time to put their son to bed.
The entire upstairs of Ben's house had been turned over to them, but they kept the downstairs nursery furnished for convenience's sake. There was a large bedroom for the two of them, another nursery for Daeron, plus a third bedroom to accommodate guests, and future children. There was even a room for his study, where he kept his notebooks and his collection of books by Elrond, and his leather bag full of instruments and such. There was even a small sitting room, so they could relax by themselves, and listen for the baby, should he wake.
But they weren't going to use it this evening. After they gave Darryn a bath and after his Ada had sung him to sleep, Rhian took Daeron's hand and led him into their bedroom.
"Hello, my wife," he whispered, as he took her into his arms.
"Suil, Hervenn nîn," she tucked her head under his chin, "Welcome home." Then they both began to sway to music only the two of them could hear.
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26th of May 2944 T.A.
"Excuse me," a deep, resonating voice said outside Galion's office. "I was wondering if Lord Thranduil might be in? I was asked to pick up some items for repair."
The Aide placed his pen in its holder and went into the Hall.
"Lord Thranduil is currently—" He stopped in his tracks.
The Elf before him was wearing a leather apron, his hair was pulled back into a braid and he had tied a red scarf to cover his head. His cheeks, arms and hands were smudged, and his clothes looked grimy, and there was a pair of leather gauntlets tucked in his belt.
"And who," he said with a curl to his lip, "may I ask, are you?"
"Mae de 'ovannen!" the filthy Ellon said, in a manner that was much too casual for the Aid's liking. "You must be Galion! We have not met, but I have heard a great deal about you!" He bowed his head and saluted. "Ni veren an gi ngovaned." Then he grinned, and his white teeth were a sharp contrast to his darkened skin. "I am Rôgon, but feel free to call me Rôg; everyone else does."
"I will do no such thing!" his head jerked back indignantly. "And you may refer to me as 'Lord Galion," if you please, and remember the proper courtesies when you are in the Home of the Kings!" he huffed.
The smiled did not leave Rôgon's face and he crooked an eyebrow. "You are most definitely Lord Galion. I see the stories about you have not been exaggerated."
"What stories? What are you talking about?"
"Nothing derogatory, I assure you. Just that you are meticulous, obsessed with decorum, and organized to a fault—"
"How dare you!" Galion was completely flustered and had to stop himself from stomping his foot. "I am not—"
The Elf leaned forward and peered into Galion's office. "And I see you live up to your reputation. Very tidy." He shook his head. "I admire that; I am a bit of a slob, unfortunately."
"But…" the Aide sputtered. "What… is your name again?"
"Rôg. I am the blacksmith who bought Bron and Adila's house and forge." he tilted his head. "I met with the Kings when I arrived, but I did not see you…"
"I must have been working in the Woodland Realm. I spend a great deal of time there… Wait; why am I explaining myself to you?"
"Because I asked," Rôgon shrugged. "It is only polite to answer." He gave the Aide a wicked smile. "I am surprised you do not know this; are you not a stickler for proper etiquette?"
"Eithad!" This time Galion did stomp his foot. "Now see here—"
"As much as I am enjoying this exchange, I was asked to collect King Thranduil's and King Bard's weapons and sharpen them." The blacksmith's dark brows furrowed. "Surely you were told to expect me?"
Rhaich! Galion felt a wave of horror sweep over him. As a matter of fact, Thranduil had spoken to him about it yesterday. But he was not about to admit to this… this… Elf, that he'd completely forgotten about it.
The side of Rôgon's mouth upturned. "You forgot, did you not?"
"Of course, I remembered! They are kept in the King's Chambers."
He could have just sent one of the Guards to fetch them, but Galion decided he would rather get them himself, and...collect himself. Not that this Elven Blacksmith unsettled him; Rôgon and his overly-familiar manner was completely beneath his notice. At least that's what he told himself.
"I will get them." he said, with his nose in the air. "You will stay here."
"I shall eagerly await your return, My Lord." Rôgon's face was serious, but there was mirth in his eyes.
The Aide turned his back in a huff, and saw Lieutenant Nualë standing there, trying to keep a straight face. "Watch him closely."
"Of course, My Lord," she saluted.
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He quickly made his way up the Main Staircase, and to the last door in the Royal Wing, where he removed the items from their stand and wrapped them in a soft blanket.
When he returned to the Hall in front of his study, he saw Hilda sitting on one of the benches with Rôgon. She was chatting in an animated tone with the Blacksmith, who was laughing at something she said.
"Oh, here he is!" she said. "Rôgon tells me you two haven't met, until now! He's been here plenty of times, but you must have been at the Palace."
"We have met." Galion's mouth formed a thin line.
"I was telling Rôg how hard Rhian and I worked on the King's Gardens. I was thinking of a fancy iron gate to put up at the entrance?"
"Really?" At this, the Aide was genuinely interested. The Royal family enjoyed their private gardens, but it was Galion who expressed the desire for some sort of security. It would also be nice to allow the dogs to run without the fear of them taking off. Thangon was well-behaved, but Lady Tilda's little pug, Meryl, was young and impetuous, and didn't always like to listen.
"Do you have a design in mind?" Rôg asked her.
"Not yet." She shook her head. "Tell you what: I'll grab Thranduil and get him to sketch something, and we can get some measurements for you." Hilda looked at the bundle in Galion's arms. "What's that?" she asked.
"He…" The Aide cleared his throat. "Rôgon is collecting the Kings' swords to sharpen them."
"Well, I'll let you get on with it." She got up and arranged her skirts. "It's good to see you again; don't be such a stranger, yeah?"
"May you have a pleasant afternoon, My Lady," the Blacksmith kissed her hand.
"You're always such a charmer!" she giggled. "Percy will have a fit if I don't ask when you can come over again. It's rare when someone can beat the tar out of him at cards!"
Galion's eyes widened in shock. This Elf has been in the family's private quarters?
"I have been busy of late with orders, Hiril vuin," Rôg held her hand in both of his, "but please give Lord Percy my best, when you see him."
"I will," she kissed his cheek. "Be sure to stop by the kitchens and see Cook. He still talks about the set of ladles and spoons you made for him!"
"I am happy he is satisfied with them."
"Satisfied? Light as a feather, they are!" She jabbed him with her elbow. "Cook doesn't give out compliments on a whim, you know. Go see him and tell him I said to fix you a basket of food."
"My deepest thanks." The blacksmith turned to Galion. "May I have those?"
The Aide had forgotten about the bundle in his arms. "Oh," he said awkwardly. "Here they are."
"Ci athae," Rôgon's smile was wide. "I enjoyed making your acquaintance, Hîr nîn."
With a bow of his head, the Blacksmith turned and left the Castle, and Galion stood for a moment staring after him, then he shook himself out of his reverie and went back to work.
He wasn't going to give that Elf another thought.
He absolutely was not.
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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
A, galu… - Thank goodness… (lit. "Oh, blessings…)
Alae, Hind Calen – Behold, Green Eyes.
Hervess nîn – My wife.
Mae de 'ovannen! – Well met!
Ni veren an gi ngovaned. – I am happy to meet you.
Eithad! – Insulting!
Hiril vuin – Beloved lady
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NOTES:
I want to point out again that in my fic, the plural for fëa is fëas. I know Tolkien wrote it as fear, but I find that too jarring, and I can't get past the idea that it means "to be afraid." It's just my personal bugaboo, so thank you for your patience.
[1] From "An Invincible Summer," CH 35: /works/14127870/chapters/37117362:
[2] From "An Invincible Summer," CH 5: /works/14127870/chapters/33048123
[3] From "An Invincible Summer," CH 5: /works/14127870/chapters/33048123:
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