Chapter Thirty
SUMMARY: Bard greets the VIPs from Rivendell, and they get acquainted. The family receives letters from Ada.
Daeron is home! He and Rhian *finally* get some time alone!
Bard is told the details of the attack in Lothlórien and doesn't take it well.
Turamarth receives an unusual wake-up call.
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When you're weary, feeling small
When tears are in your eyes, I'll dry them all.
I'm on your side, oh, when times get rough
And friends just can't be found
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down…
- Simon & Garfunkel, Bridge Over Troubled Waters
City of Dale, 18th of July 2944 T.A.
Once the party in the courtyard came to a full stop, Gandalf approached, followed by a tall, dark-haired Elf with an aura of nobility and wisdom. He was followed by an ethereal, blue-eyed Elf whose golden tresses gleamed in the summer son. Though the Bowman deeply loved his Sindar King, this Noldor was as beautiful and stunning as Lady Galadriel.
Bard found his voice, and he stepped down the last flight of steps with his hand to his heart. "I welcome you to the Kingdom of Dale, My Lords," he said, and extended it in an Elven greeting. "We are honored to have you as our guests."
"King Bard, the honor is entirely mine." Gandalf bowed his head. "Please allow me to present Elrond Eärendilion, Lord of Rivendell and its surrounding lands. I would also like to introduce Lord Glorfindel, formerly of Valinor.
"Mae govannen, Bard Brandion, Aran e-Dale." Elrond returned the formal salute. "Êl síla erin lû e-govaded 'wîn."
"Galdol. I mâr nîn i mâr dhîn." Bard gave the proper response and shot a nervous glance over at Galion who had accompanied them from the Palace. Did he get it right? The Elven Aide's quick nod of approval was a relief. "We have prepared a dinner in honor of your arrival, My Lords, and my family would be delighted to further make your acquaintance."
"I would be pleased to join you," Elrond's chin lowered to his chest and up again.
"Shall we?" Hilda stepped forward to usher their guests.
As the group made their way to the dining room, Bard murmured Galion, "I'm glad you're here."
"I am happy to assist you," the Elf saluted. "But my primary reason is to be of comfort to Tauriel. Lord Elrond and Mithrandir gave a full report to our Council last evening."
Bard stopped and studied Galion's face. "It was that bad?"
The Aide's words were chosen carefully. "Let us focus on the outcome for now."
Bard was pleased with the children's behavior during the dinner, although there was a dicey moment or two when Tilda asked Glorfindel why he was so "glowy."
"Tilda!" Sigrid hissed. "I am terribly sorry, My Lord—"
"It is perfectly all right," Glorfindel's eyes gleamed in amusement. "Lady Tilda, like your good friend, Lady Galadriel, I was born under the light of the Two Trees in Valinor. I came to Middle Earth with her and her brothers, and after many trials, I was taken back, where I dwelt for a time, but was chosen to return to Middle Earth, as an emissary of the Valar."
"What's a enissary?"
"'Emissary,'" Bard corrected. "It means Glorfindel was sent here for a particular reason."
"Oh. What's that?"
"To…help protect Middle Earth," a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, "for children like you."
"He has a job like Commander Feren, Little Bean. Glorfindel is in charge of the Army that protects Rivendell." Bard explained.
"That's nice of you." Before she took another bite of her potatoes, she asked, "What's Rivendell like? Ada says it's really pretty."
"It most certainly is," he said, and for the next several minutes, the children were given visions of the Last Homely House East of the Sea.
"Lord Elrond," Bard asked, "I'm told you have several goals to accomplish during your stay. How can we assist you?"
Please, call me Elrond."
"And you must call me Bard."
"Thank you," Elrond said, graciously. "I propose we meet with you and your Council tomorrow and go over the purposes for my visit, but for today, I would enjoy spending time with your family. Thranduil has spoken at length about your children, and I find them as charming as he described."
"Thank you, My Lord," Sigrid's cheeks flushed with pleasure. "I have read a great deal about you and your family's accomplishments. Imagine: your father is Eärendil the Mariner!" 1
"He is indeed, and my Mother's name is Elwing. I wish I could regale you with stories, but I have little recollection of my father, and we lost my mother at an early age." 2
Tilda frowned. "Were you an orphan?"
"In a manner of speaking. My twin brother and I were…rescued, for want of a better word, and raised by two Elven brothers by the name of Maedhros and Maglor." 3
"Were they nice to you?"
"They were kind to us, especially Maglor, but shortly after we reached our majority, we…parted ways."
Tilda's face fell. "That's sad."
"Those names sound familiar…" Sigrid mused. "Aren't they both sons of…"
"Fëanor? 4 Yes. It was a complicated situation, but for now, let us speak of happier things. Your Ada tells me you wish to serve your people as a Healer?"
"Yes, My Lord. I start my formal training in the fall."
"Might I offer my services as instructor during my stay?"
Sigrid's jaw dropped, and a high squeak escaped her.
"I'd take that as a yes," Bard grinned.
"Ermon has written me of your dedication. Thranduil also tells me you have an interest in history?"
"I do, My Lord. I'd like to be a Wise-Woman, like Andreth. I read a book about her, recently."
Bard spine stiffened, and his smile became forced. The last thing he needed was a debate about the Debate between Finrod and Andreth…
"Who's Andreth?" Bain asked.
"Andreth was a Saelind during the First Age." Elrond told him. "She died before I was born, but Galadriel's brothers were acquainted with her."
"Brothers? I knew Finrod was Galadriel's brother, but…"
"Aegnor and and Angrod were also children of Finarfin."
"Aegnor was her brother, too?"
"He was. Galadriel was especially close with Aegnor and his loss was bitter."
Sigrid's cheeks flamed. "But he—"
"Ahem…" Bard cleared his throat and changed the subject. "Glorfindel, I'm told your skills with the sword is legendary."
"A bit, yes," the Elf said, modestly.
"Some call him the greatest Warrior in Middle Earth," Gandalf winked at Bard.
"Nuh uh!" Tilda protested. "My Ada is the greatest! Everybody says."
"I'm sure they do, love," Bard seconded. "But I'll bet Glorfindel is just as good, too."
"There are those who believe so." One corner of the Elf-Warrior's mouth twitched slightly. "Lord Bain, Feren has agreed to allow me to participate in your weapons classes while I am here, if you are willing."
"Whoa…" Bain's face filled with glee. "That would be great!"
The atmosphere around the table remained relaxed and easy. Soon after dessert, their guests were shown to their rooms to rest, but not before Elrond presented Bard with a large packet of letters.
Tauriel received two; the other one bore her name in handwriting vastly different than Thranduil's elegant script, which she recognized.
"Is something wrong?" Bard asked her with concern.
"This is Legolas's handwriting." Her voice trembled slightly.
"The only way to find out what he wants is to open it." Bard flashed an encouraging smile at her nervous face. "Well, take all the time you need."
She nodded nervously and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."
Tauriel didn't appear for the rest of the evening, so Galion went to check on her, and they were still in her room talking after the others went to bed.
At last, Bard donned his night clothes, settled in their big bed, and opened his long letter from Thranduil. It was full of news about his son, questions about the children, and how much he missed his Meleth.
Of the mysterious "Unexpected Enemy," Thranduil would only say:
"Elrond and Mithrandir will tell you everything, but I must warn you, it will be difficult for you to hear. Meleth nîn, I beg your forgiveness and please, please remember I am well (though I cannot be whole until we are together), and I will come to you the moment Legolas is strong enough…"
He sighed, folded up the letter and set it on his bedside table. Sleep didn't come easily that night, and his dreams were filled with wild imaginings of his husband's ordeal.
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Daeron stood over Darryn's crib and gazed at his son's sleeping form. He lightly ran his fingers through the shiny, dark curls, and was swept up in the strong urge to protect this child from all harm followed by agony and guilt, because he knew it wasn't possible. Ai! How did Ada and Uncle Ómar cope when he and Tur would go out and fight? What will it be like when his son is old enough to join the military, if that would be his wish?
"There you are," Rhian's voice was soft, as she came to his side. "He's so sweet when he sleeps, isn't he?" She leaned her head against his shoulder. "You're a good Ada, babe. Darryn's lucky to have you."
"I cannot describe how much I love him, Hind Calen."
"Of course, you do. You're his father, in all the ways that matter."
The first time you put him in my arms, it was as if he always belonged there." 5
"Me, too. I don't think I understood what love was, until I had him. It's so…pure."
"His life will be short," he sighed and met her eyes. "Rhian, the only reason I wish I were his birth father is I cannot bear to lose him so soon." The last words were shaky.
"I know. But Darryn was the one who brought us together. You would have never tried to help me carry water that day if I wasn't pregnant." 6
Daeron raised his arm and put it around his wife, as he kissed her hair. "I hope you and I have more children together, but never doubt my love for him."
"Come on," she took his hand and urged him out of the room. "Our son is asleep, Turamarth is asleep, and now, I want to be with my husband."
Once they closed the door to their bedroom, Daeron said a quick Silencing Spell. He went to his wife and stroked her cheek. "I dreamed of your kisses every night," he whispered.
"Show me," she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers.
Oh… A loud grunt escaped him as he swept her off her feet and carried her over to their bed. She began to undo her bodice, but he pushed her hands away. "Let me," he whispered. Daeron's fingers and hands flew over her clothes, until she was stripped bare, and his hands were caressing the soft curves of her body. The moon was bright tonight, and its silver glow made her skin look as smooth and white as marble.
"You are a work of art, Hind Calen." He ran his fingers over her hips and belly and moved up to cup the fullness of her breasts. "And you are mine."
His tunic was ripped off, tossed over his shoulder, and it was joined seconds later on the floor by his leggings and smalls. He scrambled onto the bed as she pulled him on top of her and wrapped her legs around him.
"I love you," he whispered, then cried out as he plunged inside her wet heat and gasped at his wife's face as she threw her head back with a loud moan. When her green eyes met his and growled, "Don't be gentle," all the air left his lungs, and his hips thrust hard into her of their own volition.
Rhian sank her fingers into his auburn hair and brought his mouth crashing down to hers in a collision of lips, teeth and tongues, as they moved together.
"More!" She begged, and he gave it to her. With every move in and out of her body, the coils of fear and pain at last began to loosen. Rhian tightened around him and nipped his shoulders and chest, but when she pulled his hair and dragged her teeth over the tips of his ears, he screamed with pleasure.
"A, ma, Rhian!" He panted. "Le i velethril e-guil nîn! I need you…" Daeron eyes dove into her sea of green, and he shivered inside of her. He was so close…
"Ah!" She shrieked. "Give it to me! All of it!"
Just as she throbbed and quivered around him, he poured all he had into his beloved wife. She didn't take her eyes off him, and they fell together in a waterfall of colorful stars. Daeron was laid bare before her, leaving nothing hidden, and her fëa opened wide to accept it all, to embrace and protect him.
Through their shared fëa, Daeron saw the depths of his wife's anxiety and worry while he was gone. And without a word, Rhian saw…everything in him. Her eyes widened and filled with tears of compassion, as she cupped his cheek. "Oh, babe… I'm so sorry …"
At last, he let loose his sorrow and fear. Daeron's shoulders shook with sobs, and the curly strands of Rhian's hair was soon soaked with his tears. He poured his heart out to his Rhian, and she wrapped herself around him, stroked the back of his head and murmured, over and over, that he didn't have to bear this alone, anymore.
Words weren't possible for a long time, but when at last Daeron was able to calm down, he kissed his wife, told her he loved her, and he slept deeply for the first time since he left last month.
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City of Dale, 19th of July 2944 T.A.
Bard felt like he was going to pass out.
After breakfast, he went with the others to the conference room and listened to the full account of the Battle with the Blue Wizard.
When Gandalf spoke about the order to kill Thranduil and Legolas, the Bowman's chest caved in, as his hand instinctively went to his breastbone. Tauriel buried her face in her hands, as Galion put his arm around her.
"Are you all right, Bard?" the Wizard leaned forward, his face full of concern.
"No, I'm not!" His breath was ragged. "Thranduil actually ordered his own men to kill him? And Legolas?" He glared at Feren and slapped his palms down on the table. "How could you even think of doing something like that?"
"Bard, try to understand," Feren began—
"Look, I'm sorry, and I don't doubt you were given an order, but you're asking me to accept—"
"Bard," Elrond's voice was low and patient. "consider the alternative: had Pallando been successful, Galadriel, Legolas and Thranduil would be gone, regardless. They would become as powerful as the Nazgûl. More, in some ways. What would have happened had they been brought before Sauron? He would use them to destroy everything they loved, especially their families. The North would be lost."
Hilda gripped his forearm. "Bard, think back to when Jarod attacked us. Thranduil told us he was a… what's the word?"
"Thrall," Feren told her.
"Aye, that. Elrond's right, Bard. Jarod wasn't a Wizard, but he nearly destroyed our family! How much worse for all of you, and Lothlórien, if that Blue Bastard got his way?"
"And you can stop yelling at Feren, lad. Thranduil did the right thing," Percy said, grimly. "He'd die first, before he let anything happen to us. You'd do exactly the same in his shoes, and you know it!"
"You're right; you're right; I'm just…" Bard scrubbed his face as he tried to calm down. "I'm glad he didn't say much in his messages. This is hard enough to take in person; a letter would have nearly killed me. Wait a minute; what day did this all happen?"
"The 25th of June," Gandalf answered. "Why do you ask?"
"That was the day," Hilda's head bobbed up and down. "We were sitting in Bard's study, and he suddenly went white as a sheet!"
Elrond regarded him curiously. "What precisely happened to you, if I may ask?"
"It didn't hurt, but all of a sudden I was so terrified it made my knees buckle, and the words, 'my son' came to mind. I thought it was about Bain at first, but then we realized it must be something to do with my husband."
"Yes, of course," Elrond's eyes narrowed. "But you did not sense Thranduil had left you?"
"No. I was worried out of my mind, but he's still there."
"It was the same for Thranduil two years ago," Hilda told Elrond. "We were at the Palace, and Bard was here in Dale, badly hurt." 7
"Fascinating..." the Elf-Lord studied the Bowman. "If you are agreeable, I would like to speak to you sometime during my stay about your bond. For research purposes, you understand."
"Aye. Just give me a minute. This is…" A slow sigh escaped his lips, "a lot to take in. Now you say Nualë and her husband were already dead, when you arrived?"
"Nuín was killed instantly. Nualë lived a while longer but was too weak to fight the Darkness without help. It was Thranduil who kept her fëa safe until Námo came to take her." 8
"Oh, the poor dear…" Hilda sniffed, and Tauriel wiped a tear from her eye.
"It was a tragic sight." Gandalf sighed. "But we must find comfort in knowing she and Nuín are together now."
"We'll never forget them, or Meldon." The Bowman rubbed his chin. "Tell me, what happened to Turamarth? We got the message he'd be taken straight to Ben and Rhian's house. Is he that bad?"
"We are concerned, yes," his worried frown drew the Elf-Lord's eyebrows together. "The trauma of being framed for murder wore heavily, making him especially vulnerable to the Blue Wizard's attack. His physical wounds were healed, but his mind and his fëa have been damaged."
"Nae, amarth faeg," Tauriel's eyes closed, and she leaned against Galion.
Hilda's hand flew to her mouth. "He's such a sweet boy…" Percy shook his head sadly and rubbed his wife's back.
"Is he in danger of fading?" Galion asked.
"It is a possibility, but there are some encouraging signs," Elrond told them all. "Galadriel gave him a special talisman to bring him some ease, but the best medicine is time, patience and the love of his family. I will supervise his treatment until the danger has passed, but let me assure you," he met Bard's worried eyes, "if Turamarth's condition deteriorates, I will take him to the Havens myself."
The room fell silent for several moments, then Bard asked, "And what is Legolas's condition?"
"His fëa is in no danger, but many bones were broken. He must remain in the Healing House for several more weeks." His eyes twinkled. "I fear he will be as bad a patient as his father."
"Oh, no…" Bard winced, then met Elrond's eyes. "Thranduil told you about that?"
"He also told Legolas," the Elrond's mouth twitched. "I am surprised Ermon had as much patience with the two of you as he did. Lady Hilda, the story of how you dressed down two Kings of the North is the stuff of legend." 9
"Oh, stuff and nonsense," her face flamed. "But Legolas will be all right? How are he and Thranduil getting along?"
"I have confidence in them." Elrond's grey eyes met Bard's. "The book about his mother was an inspired idea."
"Thranduil would have thought of it sooner or later. I'm just glad it helps."
Elrond sat back and tilted his head. "I have heard much about you, King of Dale, and I am pleased to see Mithrandir did not exaggerate. You have the countenance of your forebears."
"Thank you. Did you know King Girion personally?"
"I did not." A teasing smile crossed Elrond's face. "I speak of Lord Imrazôr, and his wife, Mithrellas, your 33rd Great Grandparents from Dol Amroth." 10
Bard's mouth dropped, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Gandalf's mouth twitching. "I… have no idea what to say…except I hope that's a compliment."
"It is indeed. Surely your husband made you aware of your ancient heritage?"
"He mentioned it, but to be honest, my days are too filled with current worries to have much time to dig into my past."
"Perfectly understandable." The Elf-Lord's mouth curved upward, and the outer corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement. "Genealogy is a favorite pastime of mine."
"I am still getting used to how old you people are!" Bard chortled. "Thranduil enjoys throwing little tidbits out there to keep me on my toes, but if you have time while you are here, I'd love to learn more."
"It would be my pleasure. As to how long I might remain, I leave that to your goodwill. I ask your formal permission to stay in Dale for a few months or so, as I have several things that need to be accomplished. I have already spoken of this with your husband, who gives his blessing, but the final decision is yours, as this is your Kingdom."
"What do you need to do?"
"Mithrandir will arrange some meetings with the King Under the Mountain. As you know, Lady Dís rules Ered Luin, the Blue Mountains near us, and there will be much more travel between there and Erebor. It behooves us all to come to an agreement regarding passage and protection that would benefit all our peoples."
"I take it that's why you came, too, Gandalf?"
"It is," the Wizard nodded. "I will act as a liaison between Dáin and Elrond, but I also like to visit an keep an eye on this area. Since my last visit, you've done remarkable things with Dale, Bard! The buildings are bright, the streets are clean, and your people appear healthy and happy."
"Thank you, but it's still only beginning." Bard accepted the compliment, then his eyes turned to Elrond to explain. "We lost a lot of our folk in the fires of Laketown, and by the time the Battle of Five Armies was over, our population was down by half. It's important we keep those who remain as healthy as possible, so our numbers will increase again, and offer stability to the North.
"We've also been encouraging my people to start new traditions with festivals and celebrations to keep the community together. Speaking of which, there is a picnic scheduled at the Long Lake next week, and Tilda's hoping you will provide some fireworks?"
"I'll see what I can do." The Wizard chuckled.
"Speaking of Tilda," Elrond's tone was warm., "I want to congratulate you on her miraculous return to health."
"'Miracle' is right. Not a day goes by where I don't thank the Valar and praise your In-Laws."
"Galadriel tells me she was healed with the phial containing the light from my father's Silmaril?"
"Aye. I'm not sure what to think, to be honest. All I've ever heard about those jewels is greed and needless death, but I'm not about to turn away a chance for our daughter to be well again. Tilda's heart was badly damaged, and it gave out completely. Then, she suddenly just… woke up again and was fine." 11
"Yes…" Elrond's fingers went to his chin. "Would you give your permission to examine her as well? I would like to document this for my library. There are a few others among your people I would like to speak with, provided you do not object."
"I won't force anyone, but if they are willing, I don't see why not. My City and facilities are at your disposal."
"I am grateful. I must beg your indulgence once more, with an additional request."
"Which would be?"
"I would like to work extensively with Daeron while I am here. It might take time away from his duties, but I believe it is important."
"And Thranduil agrees?"
"He does, but again, this is your Kingdom."
Bard leaned back in his chair and interlocked his fingers across his stomach. "Of course, as long as my people are taken care of. Is Daeron agreeable?"
"He is. I only met the Lieutenant recently, but I have been told much through letters from Thranduil and Ermon. Daeron's powers are extraordinary, but I believe he has potential in other areas which need to be developed."
"Will it affect me or the well-being of Dale?"
"It is my hope this helps your efforts. More I cannot say, just yet."
"Then I won't ask. But should that change, I expect to be informed."
"Naturally. In return, I to offer my services in your Healing House while I am here."
"I'm sure Ermon and Elénaril will jump at the chance. Are your rooms here in the Castle suitable, or would you like a house of your own?"
"My rooms here are fine. To occupy a house would require more security and staff, and I do not wish to burden them for months on end. Glorfindel and a few of my guards will be leaving in a few weeks to return to Imladris, but my personal escort will remain."
"Sounds good. In the meantime, perhaps Glorfindel and your troops could organize a tournament? It might be fun."
"I am sure Glorfindel would enjoy that." The Elf-Lord and the Wizard got to their feet, as did the King of Dale. "If you would excuse me, we are scheduled to meet with Turamarth's family in a few minutes, to discuss his recovery."
"Of course. The folks around here think the world of him, and we'll help however we can."
26th of July 2944 T.A.
Turamarth opened his eyes to find a cherubic face staring at him from two inches away.
"Ai!" He jumped and grabbed his chest to keep his pounding heart from escaping. "Man cerig, Pinig?"
Darryn grinned happily, "You 'up, Unca Tur?"
"I am now." He said.
"Good!" The baby scrambled up onto the bed, laid on his stomach and rested his chin in his hands. He was clad in a light cotton tunic, and bare feet that poked through blue leggings kicked in the air. His smile was bright with tiny white teeth, showing a adorable dimple on his left cheek.
Tur closed his eyes and breathed deeply, praying to feel the familiar rush of warmth for this child. But all was flat, and empty. What if it was gone forever?
Ai gorgor… His insides began to twist—
"Unca Tur?" He was pulled out of his thoughts by a small hand wiggling his arm.
"Yes?"
"You all be'er yet?"
"I am trying."
Darryn pursed his lips and studied him with intense concentration. He sat up and grabbed Turamarth's cheeks, smooshed them together and pushed them upward. "Dere it is!"
"Hmum Mmwt?" Tur asked.
Darryn let go. "Huh?"
"I said, what did you do?"
"No fwowns!" He shook his head and scowled. "You be happy."
"You would rather I smile?"
"Yeah! Like dis." He smooshed Turamarth's face again. "See?"
"Thnk mrfff." When the child let go of Tur's face again, he sighed. "Where is your mother?"
"In de kitchen. You wan' pancakes?"
"Do you?"
"Yeah," He rubbed his tummy. "Mmmmm…. You like bluebewwies?"
"I do."
"Yay!" Darryn sat up and grabbed his hand. "Come on, Unca Tur, you gotta get up!"
Tur sighed. "Darryn, I think you should go without me, this time."
"Can't."
"Why not?"
"Mama say no."
"But you obviously came up the steps by yourself."
"No down." He shook his finger at Tur. "Mama say no down!"
"Why?
"I can't, Unca Tur!" His shrugged as he spread his hands. "You hafta hewp me, or Mama get mad."
"I see." The idea of going all the way downstairs made him want to curl up in a ball with the covers over his head.
Darryn leaned over and gripped his cheeks yet again. "No fwowns! Outta bed! Come on, pweese?"
Perhaps a week in this room was long enough. Tur sat up with a sigh, as a thought occurred to him.
"Darryn, did your mother send you up here?"
"Uh huh," His hair bounced as he bobbed his head up and down with a happy smile. "Outta bed, Unca Tur!"
Apparently, Rhian decided a week was long enough, too.
"All right, Pinig," he sighed again, and reached for his robe. "But I am not strong enough to carry you, yet."
"Dat's otay. I hewp you."
So Turamarth rose and made it down the hall with his right hand hanging onto the wall, as his tiny nephew grabbed two fingers of his left. Darryn took his job seriously, and coached and talked him through each step as he hung on to the railing, and one by one, they made it to the first landing, then down to the sitting room.
"We did it!" Darryn clapped, as their feet hit the floor. "Yay!"
"We did." Tur told him, as a wave of anxiety gripped him. He let go of the baby's hand and grabbed his pendant, as he forced himself to breathe through it.
"You awight?" Blue eyes widened in concern, and the corners of Darryn's mouth turned down, as he patted his leg.
"I… do not worry, Pinig." Tur forced a smile that failed to reach his heart. "You were a big help."
Darryn grabbed his hand and pulled. "Mama!" he called. "Unca Tur's here! We wan' pancakes!"
"Good boy!" Rhian's voice called from the kitchen. "Hurry up and get them while they're hot!"
Tur allowed himself to be dragged to the table in the sunny kitchen.
"You sit dere," Darryn pointed to the chair next to his higher seat. "And I sit here, 'kay?"
Rhian casually set a mug of tea in front of him, along with a cup of milk for her son. Then she carried a platter of blueberry pancakes to the table and put three of them on his plate.
"Thank you," he mumbled.
"Sure." She tied a bib around Darryn's neck and quickly cut up his food. "Now, dig in, Little Man."
Tur took the crock of butter to spread on his pancakes but passed on the syrup. He picked up his fork and took a small bite.
"These are good," he said.
"We're celebrating today," she grinned at her son. "Aren't we, baby?"
"Yep!" He waved his fork in the air, then, as babies do, he picked up a piece of pancake with his other hand and put it in his mouth. "Mmmmm…."
Curiosity drew Tur's eyebrows together. "What is the special occasion?"
Rhian helped Darryn sip his milk, and said, "You joined us for breakfast."
His eyebrow shot up. "Darryn said you sent him to fetch me."
"Did he?" She nonchalantly piled four more pancakes on his plate. "Imagine that."
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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
A, ma, Rhian! – Oh, yes, Rhian!
Ci athae, Mellon nîn. – Thank you, my friend.
Êl síla erin lû e-govaded 'wîn. – A star shines upon the hour of our meeting.
Galdol. I mâr nîn i mâr dhîn. – Welcome. My home is your home.
Hênig – My child
Hind Calen – "Green Eyes," Daeron's pet name for Rhian
I 'ell nîn – My pleasure.
Le i velethril e-guil nîn! – You are the love of my life!
Mae govannen, Bard Brandion, Aran e-Dale. – Well met, Bard, son of Brand, King of Dale.
Man cerig, Pinig? – What are you doing, my little one?
Saelind – Wise-Woman (lit. "Wise-Heart")
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NOTES:
[1] /wiki/Earendil
[2] /wiki/Elwing
[3] "When the Sons of Fëanor attacked the Havens of Sirion, Elwing was taken by Ulmo. The twins were carried off, but later found near a waterfall and they were named as such; Elrond was discovered in a cave. Taken captive by Maglor, they were subsequently raised by him." /wiki/Elrond
[4] /wiki/Feanor
[5] From What Makes a King, Ch. 31: /works/10838010/chapters/27120603
[6] From What Makes a King, Ch. 29: /works/10838010/chapters/26920293
[7] From And Winter Came…, Ch. 31: /works/12026709/chapters/31073298
[8] From Legolas, Ion nîn, Ch. 23: /works/17088320/chapters/44196763
[9] From And Winter Came…, Ch. 37: /works/12026709/chapters/31879389
[10] /wiki/Imrazor
[11] From An Invincible Summer, Ch. 39: /works/14127870/chapters/37637711
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