AUTHOR NOTES: Bard is a cool little man, and he makes his appearance in
this chapter. Sweet. And by the way, Daddy's about to get pissed.
Chapter 3- Bard of Laketown
Nimwen fell asleep almost immediately. Resting in the delicate limbo that Elves could never fully understand, her young face seemed serene and oblivious to the carnage that had erupted a few days beforehand. Legolas stood over her for a long moment, feeling himself slip into one of his own standing dreams. He shook himself awake, and left Nimwen to sleep.
Lifting up the flap from the hospital tent, Legolas' eyes dilated in the bright sun. It was noontime, but he didn't feel hungry. Quite the opposite. He quickly moved to the side as two Elves and two Men carried in a man who was screaming at the top of his lungs. A piece of burning lumber had fallen onto its leg and severed it just above the knee. It had begun to gangrene. Men, unlike Elves, could not heal themselves with time. How different they were. Legolas hoped Nimwen would not be awoken by the man's cries.
Arion followed behind Legolas. His hands were streaked with human blood, and his face looked sickly pale. The prince unconsciously reached out a hand to steady his friend. Arion shook his head as though in a dream, and the two went to one of the wells to wash the blood off.
"There was a woman there," Arion said in a low whisper, looking at his hands as the water rinsed over them, "and I think she was bleeding inside. I couldn't think of what to do to help her. I am so used to healing our own kind." It was true that Arion was known for his skills as a healer. But he had only fixed the ailments of Sylvan Elves only and knew little of the Outside. His face showed great strain as he went on. "She had horrible burns all up her arms, too. She took my hands and wouldn't let go until her eyes clouded over and she died. They had to pry her fingers off of me."
Legolas swallowed. It was a horrible tale. Not knowing what else to do, he rested his hand on his dearest friend's back. Their thoughts mingled, exchanging comfort and regret in the unspoken manner of the Elves, mending the wounds as language could not. In response, Arion quickly dashed away the tears that had filled his eyes and straightened up. "Did you find Bard, my Lord?"
"No," Legolas sighed. "I should greatly like to meet him, though. A human with such archery skill! Have you heard? He hit Smaug in the heart from many yards away, a moving target with only a small, unarmored patch of skin on his underbelly. It is unheard of for human skill."
Arion has smiled. "They are writing songs about him now, making them up as they rebuild the houses. Their spirits, for the most part, have not been weakened. That is well, and the key to their survival." He turned to Legolas, his smile taking a wry look, and said: "Your father still does not realize that you've been here many times without him?"
Legolas laughed. "If he has figured it out, then he masks it extremely well, I think. No, he has not guessed. I saw Brago in the square when we arrived this morning. He recognized me, but I had to pretend I had not seen him in order to not be caught. I should go see him alone now."
Arion's hands were clean. He dried them on the hem of his tunic and said, "How long has it been since last you came to Esgaroth?"
"Last time was with you."
"Are you sure? That was at least ten years ago."
"I know. I realized it when I saw Brago. His hair has changed color already. Like trees, they are, losing brilliance before they rest. But they don't come back to life, like trees. It would save much suffering."
High up in the sky, an Eagle was circling. Legolas and Arion heard its cry at the same moment. Looking up, they saw the mighty wingspan circling high above.
"I wonder what he's doing?" Arion said.
"He's probably a scout from one of the tribes. Perhaps he is reporting upon the wreckage."
The prince and the warrior turned from the well to seek out King Thranduil.
Indeed, the Elven King had found Bard before his son or his companions could. When Legolas and Arion entered the tent set up for the Wood-Elves, the two leaders were deep in council. They stopped when the two young Elves entered, and rose to their feet.
"Lord Bard, this is my son and heir-apparent, Legolas," Thranduil said, gesturing to the prince. Legolas, having not expected to meet a dignitary on such short notice, thought he must look a mess as he bowed slightly to the Man. Bard did not seem to mind. Indeed, he was dressed simply, too, like a commoner in hunting garb. Upon his head was a cap with an Eagle feather. His face was noble, and his hair and beard where dark as night. He had broad shoulders and strong-looking arms: an archer indeed.
Arion introduced himself in turn, and with a smile at Legolas, left the tent to leave the nobles to their work. Legolas wished he could go with him. "No," he thought, "I wish to be gone from this place. Death hangs in the air. I want to be back among the trees of our home."
"We have been discussing what to do in regard to the Dwarven question," Thranduil said simply, resuming his seat at the small table that had been set up. Legolas found a chair and joined them. Spread across the table was a great map of the northeastern region of civilized Middle-earth. It showed everything from the western edge of the Wood-Elf kingdom to the easternmost part of the Iron Hills. A circle was drawn in charcoal around the Lonely Mountain.
"With the Worm dead and gone, the Dwarves must have accessed the Dragon Horde by now," Bard mused, gazing at the circled picture. "From what I have heard, there remains more treasures than can be counted. Gold and mithril heaped in mounds, they say, and many gems." He paused and smiled up at the father and son. "More than enough to go around."
"Yes. But we are dealing with Dwarves, the one breed of creature known to love gold more then lifeblood, and to harbor the greatest greed," Thranduil said. "They will not be easily swayed."
"Have you told Lord Bard about our dealings with them?" Legolas asked innocently. Thranduil grimaced. "No, then. Well, sir, here is where things become more complicated. Several days ago we were having one of our autumnal feasts within the inner regions of our land. Three times we were intruded upon, yet three times we managed to outsmart the intruders. We saw that they were Dwarves, at least fourteen of them."
"Go on," Bard said. Legolas thought the smile upon the Man's face was one of genuine amusement. He unconsciously he grinned and continued.
"You see, Lord, we are not known to be the friendliest of people to Outsiders."
"You have proved that wrong by coming here at our hour of need."
"Ah, but it has been long since we have come to your land," Thranduil said. "This is my fault, mainly. We have few dealings with Outsiders, even amongst our own kin from Imladris or Lothlorien."
"Few? I remember well ten years ago when a group of your people came. The Rangers had come through for the fall. They were quite amiable and friendly. I would not guess them to be reclusive folk."
Legolas' heart stopped as Bard's eyes fell upon him in a new way.
"So I have seen you before, my prince! Were you not among that group?"
Chapter 3- Bard of Laketown
Nimwen fell asleep almost immediately. Resting in the delicate limbo that Elves could never fully understand, her young face seemed serene and oblivious to the carnage that had erupted a few days beforehand. Legolas stood over her for a long moment, feeling himself slip into one of his own standing dreams. He shook himself awake, and left Nimwen to sleep.
Lifting up the flap from the hospital tent, Legolas' eyes dilated in the bright sun. It was noontime, but he didn't feel hungry. Quite the opposite. He quickly moved to the side as two Elves and two Men carried in a man who was screaming at the top of his lungs. A piece of burning lumber had fallen onto its leg and severed it just above the knee. It had begun to gangrene. Men, unlike Elves, could not heal themselves with time. How different they were. Legolas hoped Nimwen would not be awoken by the man's cries.
Arion followed behind Legolas. His hands were streaked with human blood, and his face looked sickly pale. The prince unconsciously reached out a hand to steady his friend. Arion shook his head as though in a dream, and the two went to one of the wells to wash the blood off.
"There was a woman there," Arion said in a low whisper, looking at his hands as the water rinsed over them, "and I think she was bleeding inside. I couldn't think of what to do to help her. I am so used to healing our own kind." It was true that Arion was known for his skills as a healer. But he had only fixed the ailments of Sylvan Elves only and knew little of the Outside. His face showed great strain as he went on. "She had horrible burns all up her arms, too. She took my hands and wouldn't let go until her eyes clouded over and she died. They had to pry her fingers off of me."
Legolas swallowed. It was a horrible tale. Not knowing what else to do, he rested his hand on his dearest friend's back. Their thoughts mingled, exchanging comfort and regret in the unspoken manner of the Elves, mending the wounds as language could not. In response, Arion quickly dashed away the tears that had filled his eyes and straightened up. "Did you find Bard, my Lord?"
"No," Legolas sighed. "I should greatly like to meet him, though. A human with such archery skill! Have you heard? He hit Smaug in the heart from many yards away, a moving target with only a small, unarmored patch of skin on his underbelly. It is unheard of for human skill."
Arion has smiled. "They are writing songs about him now, making them up as they rebuild the houses. Their spirits, for the most part, have not been weakened. That is well, and the key to their survival." He turned to Legolas, his smile taking a wry look, and said: "Your father still does not realize that you've been here many times without him?"
Legolas laughed. "If he has figured it out, then he masks it extremely well, I think. No, he has not guessed. I saw Brago in the square when we arrived this morning. He recognized me, but I had to pretend I had not seen him in order to not be caught. I should go see him alone now."
Arion's hands were clean. He dried them on the hem of his tunic and said, "How long has it been since last you came to Esgaroth?"
"Last time was with you."
"Are you sure? That was at least ten years ago."
"I know. I realized it when I saw Brago. His hair has changed color already. Like trees, they are, losing brilliance before they rest. But they don't come back to life, like trees. It would save much suffering."
High up in the sky, an Eagle was circling. Legolas and Arion heard its cry at the same moment. Looking up, they saw the mighty wingspan circling high above.
"I wonder what he's doing?" Arion said.
"He's probably a scout from one of the tribes. Perhaps he is reporting upon the wreckage."
The prince and the warrior turned from the well to seek out King Thranduil.
Indeed, the Elven King had found Bard before his son or his companions could. When Legolas and Arion entered the tent set up for the Wood-Elves, the two leaders were deep in council. They stopped when the two young Elves entered, and rose to their feet.
"Lord Bard, this is my son and heir-apparent, Legolas," Thranduil said, gesturing to the prince. Legolas, having not expected to meet a dignitary on such short notice, thought he must look a mess as he bowed slightly to the Man. Bard did not seem to mind. Indeed, he was dressed simply, too, like a commoner in hunting garb. Upon his head was a cap with an Eagle feather. His face was noble, and his hair and beard where dark as night. He had broad shoulders and strong-looking arms: an archer indeed.
Arion introduced himself in turn, and with a smile at Legolas, left the tent to leave the nobles to their work. Legolas wished he could go with him. "No," he thought, "I wish to be gone from this place. Death hangs in the air. I want to be back among the trees of our home."
"We have been discussing what to do in regard to the Dwarven question," Thranduil said simply, resuming his seat at the small table that had been set up. Legolas found a chair and joined them. Spread across the table was a great map of the northeastern region of civilized Middle-earth. It showed everything from the western edge of the Wood-Elf kingdom to the easternmost part of the Iron Hills. A circle was drawn in charcoal around the Lonely Mountain.
"With the Worm dead and gone, the Dwarves must have accessed the Dragon Horde by now," Bard mused, gazing at the circled picture. "From what I have heard, there remains more treasures than can be counted. Gold and mithril heaped in mounds, they say, and many gems." He paused and smiled up at the father and son. "More than enough to go around."
"Yes. But we are dealing with Dwarves, the one breed of creature known to love gold more then lifeblood, and to harbor the greatest greed," Thranduil said. "They will not be easily swayed."
"Have you told Lord Bard about our dealings with them?" Legolas asked innocently. Thranduil grimaced. "No, then. Well, sir, here is where things become more complicated. Several days ago we were having one of our autumnal feasts within the inner regions of our land. Three times we were intruded upon, yet three times we managed to outsmart the intruders. We saw that they were Dwarves, at least fourteen of them."
"Go on," Bard said. Legolas thought the smile upon the Man's face was one of genuine amusement. He unconsciously he grinned and continued.
"You see, Lord, we are not known to be the friendliest of people to Outsiders."
"You have proved that wrong by coming here at our hour of need."
"Ah, but it has been long since we have come to your land," Thranduil said. "This is my fault, mainly. We have few dealings with Outsiders, even amongst our own kin from Imladris or Lothlorien."
"Few? I remember well ten years ago when a group of your people came. The Rangers had come through for the fall. They were quite amiable and friendly. I would not guess them to be reclusive folk."
Legolas' heart stopped as Bard's eyes fell upon him in a new way.
"So I have seen you before, my prince! Were you not among that group?"