A/N To Guest re chapter 1 and riding with tack. Please don't apologise! You are quite right, and its not pedantic to point it out , this is Tolkiens world and characters after all and I should have been more alert to carrying assumptions from this world to his. I'm not precious about comments and am just grateful to those who take time even if its to correct me:). I realised my mistake after the chapter was posted and have meant to fix it but never got around to it, but have I think been careful not to repeat it. Infact I can remember one instance (where Elrond arrived at the forest gate) where I thought to myself 'get it right this time' and still I didnt get around to fixing it!
I hadn't intended to break the chapter here but really it would be too long if I didn't, so this is shorter than my chapters generally are.
The Crowning of Bard
The day of the crowning of Bard as king of Dale dawned as fair and kind as the City could have wished for. A golden sun rose swiftly in the east, trailing banners of faint pink cloud that melted almost the moment the light rolled across the mountains. The night tint of the sky paled to a bright and gentle blue as the people stirred to tend to cattle and children before the days festivities began.
In the square of remembrance the gilding on the Battlestone glowed and the scent of flowers and herbs was heavy on the air even this soon after sunrise. The elven guard had surrendered their night duty to the men of the city before daybreak and it was those men who stood in silence as Bard made a final salute to his dead of that day, speaking softly as he did so.
"I have kept my word to wait for a crown until the City was restored and you will not finding me wanting in any other promise that I make. Therefore know that I will not forget I swear, not one of you, even where I knew not your names. No Lords or Knights were you just those who sought to defend the ones they loved, and I will keep that knowledge in my heart whatever comes. No man, woman or child shall be beneath my notice and the good of the City shall be first with me however heavy the crown they place upon my head becomes. Nor shall the love of riches and power hold me hostage as they did Oakenshield. Fairly I will deal with all, and seek honour in all that I do, in your names."
With that he placed a single white flower on the banner that lay folded at the base of the face of the stone that showed the battle for Dale before he turned away to rejoin his personal guard who waited at the gate to the square. He was just in time it seemed for those tasked with preparing the square for his crowing were just arriving, carts piled high with garlands and banners already queuing to gain entry. With a smile and a nod he strode past them and set off in search of breakfast.
Bard and his escort moved quickly through streets still sleepy on this a day of leisure, his mind fixed on the day that lay ahead and what it would mean for him and his family. Though he was not the Bard of the battle any longer much would change again once the crown was upon his head. The manner of this day would do much to set the nature of his reign in the days to come, he had known this for some time and had many a sleepless night because of it. Not least of his concerns had been how the day was to be accomplished and he had struggled long with what manner of celebration it should be. In the end he had turned to the Elvenking for advice.
It had been on one of that Lords rare visits to the city in the spring of the previous year, an unusually warm evening for spring he recalled, and they had sat in the garden of the Elvenking's house for a while before the meal was served enjoying a glass of wine. Thranduil greatly enjoyed good wine but he drank it as a connoisseur would rather than some bar room toper, the better the wine the more slowly he drank it, the better to savour it. That night the wine had been served in small bowls and the king had swallowed it slowly in small appreciative sips, each one given due relish, which told Bard this was a very good wine indeed, maybe even the legendary Dorwinnion. His own first careful sip, for he had not wanted to appear unappreciative, told him that however good it may or may not be, it was powerful and he had slowed his consumption to the rate of that of the Elvenking for he did not want to make a fool of himself. Even so he had forgotten that elves were little affected by wine or other such beverages and come the morning his head had reminded him that it was not so for men.
Yet he recalled their conversation of that evening very well.
"My Lord Thranduil. I have a knotty problem I would seek your advice on."
The Elvenking had regarded him for a moment with tilted head then waived the hovering butler away before he smiled and shook his head.
"It is not for me to give guidance on how to govern Dale my lord, though it is true that I have had much knowledge of men, both before and since being king of my Realm. Indeed I stood before the Black Gates of Mordor with them at the end of the last age for as many years as have elapsed since the Battle of the Five Armies, and I have seen both the best and worst of which they are capable. It is also true that some fall under my rule by virtue of living within my Realm, but that is not to be compared with governing a City made up of them alone."
Bard recalled that he had nodded.
"I understand this my Lord and would not ask it of you, but this does not concern the governance of Dale, though it might have consequences for it if not done well."
Thranduil was silent for a moment longer, looking closely at Bard, then he took another sip of wine and inclined his head.
"Then if I can help I will do so, what is it you wish to ask?"
Bard took another swallow of his wine and rushed into speech in case his nerve failed him.
"How do I become king? I am at a loss to determine how and where I should be crowned and who should do it. There has not been a king in Dale since the Dragon destroyed the City and the ways of doing such things are largely forgotten. More than that much of what was used in the crowning of kings in the past was no doubt destroyed by Smaug's deprivations."
The elf had looked at him in some surprise, then that look faded and was replaced by a thoughtful one.
"Yes, I suppose that the books that described such things were lost in the dragon's fire." He said slowly. "I may have something in my library that tells how it was done then, if that is what you wish to do. But do you? Should you?"
Bard looked at him with relief for it seemed that the Elvenking might understand his misgivings and as such his dilemma.
"No my Lord, in truth I do not want to repeat the past. My Kingship of Dale has come to me under strange circumstances, not by right as a son of a royal line at the end of kings life. I can claim my line back to theirs it is true but for more than five generations my family have been no more than any other citizen of Laketown, living as bowmen and fishers. Something in my heart tells me that to repeat the manner of the past will not serve in this case, even though the people wish it and I am descended from the Kings of that earlier time."
Thranduil nodded his eyes slipping up towards the stars.
"I think your heart tells you true, the manner of your kingship is different and that should be recognised."
"Then may I ask, how do elves manage such matters?"
Thranduil was silent his eyes still fixed upon the heavens. He recalled the day of his own crowning very well. The elders of all the tribes of the Sylvan who lived as one under his father rule had come together in the grove of his fathers tree where an altar to Elbereth had been set; and they had brought with them leaves, flowers and twigs of the forest areas around their villages. These they had woven into his first crown as he had sat in silence, unmoving, head bowed before the altar, the people and visitors gathered around the grove in silence. Once the crown was woven, and the leaves and berries and flowers they had brought with them secured within it, the resulting creation had been washed in the water of the forest river, the elders reciting the wishes and claims of the people as they did so. Then the Sindar Lords who had crossed the mountains with Oropher had brought forth the carven staff of oak and laid it beside the crown and it too was washed in the water. Once that was done the people had sung a last lament for his dead father.
As silence fell again he had risen and placed his hand upon the staff and sworn the oaths that were carved upon it. Only when the last was sworn did he take the staff into his hand. Then he had reached out and took the crown and made the final oath of fealty that none, not even his own family, should take precedence over his duty to the Realm. Then he placed the crown upon his head, for doing so was to show that he willing took up the wishes of all the people and assumed responsibility for their protection and comfort without favour. But men, so accustomed to those who abused power, would not understand the symbology of that self crowning; yet he felt that Bard needed something that had some similarity. He must show favour to none, there must be no one who was seen as king maker.
For a moment longer he thought, then he smiled, still staring at the stars.
"That would not serve you I think, but perhaps something that holds some similarity. My advice to you would be this. Hold your crowning in the square of the Battlestone which is revered by all and owned by none but the City. If one of the old crowns remains, perhaps returned from Smaug's hoard, then use that for again it will have been made, or given, by none living. If not I would advise that you hold a competition for its design and creation and let the people of the city chose it."
He took another sip of wine his head tilted again in silent thought. When he spoke once more it was slowly as if still thinking of his words.
" Then hold a lottery amongst the children of the survivors of that battle and the families of those who died; all must be allowed to take part, boy and girl, and a lack of wealth or position must be no barrier. Place the tokens in a butter churn on the day of the lottery, only you shall know the winning token and you shall show it to the crowds before you place it in the churn. Churn those contents well and then let each child select one token, blind, from it and as they remove it they must show it to the crowd. The child who takes the true token shall place the crown upon your head."
He looked towards Bard.
"No Lord or person who might seek to use the action for their own ends will crown you, there will be none who might see themselves as Kingmaker. Only chance declares who shall do it. It shall be one born of the people who reclaimed Dale but none can claim to be favoured above another. Do you think that would answer the questions of your heart?"
Bard remembered well the sense of relief that had stolen through him as the Elvenking had spoken and width of his smile as he replied.
"Yes my Lord, I believe it does."
So had it been arranged and this day a crown of Dale, salvaged from the mountain with the aid of Dain, and whose creation was lost in the mists of the years passed, would be placed upon his head by a small girl child who had not been born that day. One born to a father who had survived the battle, only to die three years later of a stone falling from a wall still waiting to be repaired, and a mother who had had wielded a pitchfork in the streets at the end of the battle as the Eagles had arrived. A mother who had taken a nasty wound to her leg and now walked on crutches and worked as a weaver of blankets. Yes Bard was happy with how matters had fallen out for not a word or mutter of complaint had been heard from any about the choice or the manner of the making of it.
So it was that at the hour of the day when the goblin horde first appeared at the gates of the city Bard the Bowman knelt before the Battlestone again and bowed his head before a golden haired child and smiled encouragement at her as she, with great care, placed a crown of gold and green and blue gems upon his head. Then he reached forward and took her hand and kissed it gently before rising to his feet and catching her up in his arms carried her back to her waiting mother. So Bard, the slayer of of the Dragon at last became the King of Dale.
Watching from his his seat under the Woodland Realms banner Thranduil sent up a prayer that the days of Bard would be peaceful for the people of the City had much to do if it was to withstand the war he felt sure was coming. Bard and those of his time had fought enough let them now have the space to rebuild and grow in strength, he asked, for when the enemy next came no ragtag army would defeat them and he doubted that his own Realm would be able to give aid. For Thranduil did not doubt that his people and those of Celeborn would be attacked before the allies of the darkness turned their sights upon Dale.
xxx
As was to be expected the feast of that evening was the greatest civic function the newly occupied City had hosted since the first masons and their families had moved here to begin work on restoring the wreck that the dragon had gifted them. In honour of that fact all of the armies of the light of that day were represented and so the elves of the Elvenkings guard and Court, Sindar and Sylvan, found themselves sitting amongst dwarfs for the first time since the coming of Smaug more than a hundred turnings of the year ago.
For them the time passed was small, but not so for the dwarfs and many of those in Dains court had never known an elf king, or even an elven Lord, before Thranduil. The elves present had been warned of this and charged with avoiding all provocations for Bard's sake by their King, and for love of him, and respect for his word, they were determined to do so. Yet when the time came they were not called upon to exercise restraint for it seemed that Dain had charged his retinue with much the same; and despite a certain stiffness in conversation, and the occasion muttered mention of the Elvenkings halls and its dungeons, there was little need for either elf or dwarf to feel themselves bound to defend their kin.
Bard had provided a lavish feast in honour of the day. Dressed in the blue and gold of the House of Dale he looked every inch a king as he presided at the high table. Few but the elf lord to his right, saw the shadow of uncertainty that sat at the back of his warm brown eyes. Whether it was for his new position or the meal set before them could not be judged.
Both the elven and dwarfish visitors had given due honour to the day and Dain was dressed with much of the splendour of his own coronation in the red, grey and black of the line of Durbin. His robe of heavy velvet was belted in plaited golden strands and a crown of gold and rubies that shone in the candlelight as brightly as the emeralds and sapphires of Dale sat upon his brow. Pergolas wondered how he could bear the weight of the robe for the evening was warm even without the hundreds of candles that adorned the hall.
Thranduil was dressed in a grander version of his customary summer robes, a long tunic of silvery green, sleeves cut with gold brocade, over hose of pale yellow, with a robe of deeper green lined with pale sky blue. The robe moved like flowers in the summer breeze about him and trailed behind him, it was fastened at his throat by an intricate pin depicting a stag outlined against the against the rising sun. On his head he wore his summer crown, woven of willow and twined with flowers and, in honour of the occasion, wrapped with starlight gems. Legolas was also suitably attired in honour of the day, in green like his father but with the customary brown of an archer changed for rich gold and amber tones. His hair flowed unbound down his back and was held in place by a circlet of silver chased with images of branch and flower.
The people of Dale had been anxious to show off their new prosperity to the two visiting kings and one course had followed another in a seemingly endless stream of plates, tureens and platters. Thranduil had taken something from every course and eaten with apparent enjoyment, only the most eagle eyed would have noticed that he took little and that, somehow, he had never finished it by the time the next course arrived. Legolas did notice and hid a smile, for the king had surprisingly simple tastes, a legacy he had once said of the years of hard travel first away from the kinslaying wrought by of the sons of Feanor, then across the mountains to Greenwood. It had been the same with the wine, for though his father was very fond of wine it was not for the intoxicating quality and he rarely bothered with wines he considered inferior, preferring instead a good dish of tea. Dale did not have the cellars of an Elf Lord but Thranduil had contributed some as a coronation gift and there were a few good ones amongst the others served. These the Elvenking consumed slowly but with evident pleasure, for he was careful not to be seen to lack appreciation for what was put before him. For the rest it was as the food, he talked and laughed and somehow he never finished the glass before the next one appeared.
For himself Legolas enjoyed both the food and the drink, though the close proximity to Dain's companions slightly dimmed his pleasure. He did his best to make the kinds of conversation his father would expect of him in such circumstances but all too often he found his thoughts drifting back to the ones who had trespassed upon their lands and brought Tauriel to her fall. Try as he would he could not banish the thought that had Oakenshield not intruded as he had she would have found some way to make a life for herself within the forest. He did not doubt the truth of his fathers words of the previous night, nor the pain in her face as she had looked after the king, but in his heart he held to the hope that, without the dwarfs coming, time would have allowed her to put the matter behind her.
But there was no point in thinking of that, certainly not this evening. Much music and dancing were planned for after the feast, so his father had told him, and he would be expected to play his part. The one consolation was that Dain did not have appeared to bring any Dwarf Ladies with whom he might be expected to dance. The thought of how it would have appeared had he done so caused Legolas to smile a little to himself, for whilst he did not have the unusual height of his father his Sindar blood meant that he was tall, even for an elf. Dancing with a dwarf would have had him staring over his partners head while she would have found her gaze firmly fixed upon his chest, uncomfortable for both of them! No, he was glad he would not have to dance with a dwarf. Like all elves Legolas was versed in the crime the dwarfs had committed against his people in the past, but he was also well aware that few of those here this night would know anything of it. For even for Dain's people such events were the stuff of legend and none would know the truth of those legends and songs any longer. As for their meddling and aggressions in the last age, well Moria was long since lost to them so they had prospered little from it.
Yet Legolas had noticed early in the evening that Dain was looking ill at ease, and though he ate and drank with much relish, and laughed at many a remark made by Bard or his own counsel, there were other times when he seemed to be in the grip of a barely contained anger. Though Legolas only caught glimpses of the Dwarf king, seated as he was to the right of his father, there were occasions when he looked up the table to answer a remark by Bard or his son and caught sight of Dain with a frown upon his brow and wondered what it was that could have caused such feelings to occupy his mind on such a day.
Once they left the table and removed to the Great Hall for the remainder of the evenings festivities Dains discomfort became even more obvious, and its source less of a mystery. For Legolas observed him to send many a dark but uncertain look towards the King of the Woodland Realm, and on more than one occasion he seemed to change his route around the room to avoid that king. On those few occasions the both of them were in the dance Dain would avert his eyes if the movements brought them close, staring at the ceiling if his partner was too distant to provide distraction.
By the time the first dances of the evening were passed and those of the highest ranks felt themselves at leisure to wander around a little to seek out friends and progress discussions that had started earlier in the week, Dain had settled himself as far as was possible without giving insult from the Elvenking. Thranduil noted the fact and suppressed a smile, yet the separation did not appear to end Dain's discomfort for he seemed drawn to stare at the elf lord with a angry frown but one that also carried some uncertainty and worry within it.
Thranduil caught the look and knew well what the King under the Mountain was musing on. Here was nothing he could do about it though, none could help Dain accept his actions on that fateful day and it seemed unlikely that even time would ever truly erase his anger at himself, and therefore at Thranduil, for what he had said that day.
Bard, who had just left the dance, came and stood behind him and after a moment leaned towards him and spoke low.
"Will he ever forget or forgive do you think?"
He knew the Elvenking would understand.
Thranduil didn't look around but replied as softly.
"For being found out in being a credulous fool? Ai no, it would be little different had it been a man who so caught him out but that it was an elf adds an edge to his anger. That it was me well..."
Bard nodded casting another glance towards the dwarf king. Dain was currently occupied in taking another cup of ale from a passing servant and was not looking in their direction.
"Yes, though you have given him no reason for that to be so, for I am sure all would have heard the explosions had to raised the matter with him."
Thranduil smiled down into his wine.
"No I have been careful never to give mention to it, which may be some part of his unease. But I think he may have done a little investigation into a matter of history which has further rubbed at his discomfort. Thorin was not the first to lie about his dealings with elves to other dwarfs. It was long ago now, an unimaginable time to a dwarf, but he knows that I may have known those who were there at the time and that disconcerts him."
He looked bacl to Bard.
"But do not let the matter trouble you, there will be no discord between us while we are in Dale, nor indeed at anytime if the matter rested only with me."
Legolas standing to his father right looked towards the Dwarf King and suppressed a sigh knowing only too well it didn't lie with his father alone.
