Chapter Ten

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SUMMARY: Thranduil's meeting with Daeron continues. The Guard is given an offer and discovers he has an unexpected patron.

Later that afternoon, the Kings and their Guards make their way in the heavy rain to see Mistress Ellyn and discover her fate.

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"To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves."

—Federico García Lorca, Blood Wedding and Yerma

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City of Dale, 20th of July, 2042 T.A.

"Mellon nîn, I have the solution for you both."

"Excuse me?" Daeron was curious, and a bit skeptical.

"Mithrandir brought me a message from Lord Celeborn when he came." Thranduil held up the letter, bearing the seal of the Golden Wood.

"Lothlórien?"

The Elvenking nodded. "I was mistaken in my belief that the Blessing of Eärendil was only meant for the Woodland Realm. This assumption was mostly borne from the suffering of our people during the funerals, but I confess it also came from centuries of never thinking past our own borders, to consider the wider world.

"The Valar sent the healing light of the Silmaril to all within its power, particularly the Lady of the Golden Wood. She was greatly weakened by her efforts to banish the Dark Lord to Mordor, and while she still feels the effects, she was greatly aided by this. The Blessing that shifts the paradigm of Elven love and marriage rites was meant for all Wood-Elves, not just those of the Greenwood."

"Wood Elves?" What about the Sindar? And the Noldor?"

"Oh, they are also blessed, but while we all look up to the Stars, your kind are more inclined to seek strength in the works and blessings of Yavanna. Silvans are also less likely to feel the sea-longing unless they are grieving, and wish to stay and protect all green and growing things. Your folk have suffered greatly from the sickness in Mirkwood.

Daeron winced, and looked at Thranduil in surprise. "You hate that name; why do you use it now?"

"I say it just this once to illustrate how ill our home is, and to also tell you how proud I am of all of you, for persisting in your efforts to care for our Kingdom despite this burden." Thranduil sighed. "You not give in to this despair, and I pray the day will come when we all can see the Woodland Realm become healthy and green once more."

"We all pray for that."

Thranduil held up the letter again. "Lord Celeborn has a proposal which you might find useful, but first, allow me give some context: I closed the borders of the Greenwood, thinking isolation would protect us from evil, but it found us, did it not? I wonder if I made it easier for Sauron to take up residence in Dol Guldur, and fool us all.

"Lothlórien had adopted these isolationist policies long before I did, and we are all realizing our mistake. We need cooperation and trust between Kingdoms, between all the races of Free Peoples, and must begin establishing these relations as soon as possible.

"The Great War is coming, Daeron. Many of the preparations the Kings in the North are making is to defend our people and our lands, when it comes. We are learning from the Men, we are learning from the Dwarves, and they learn from us. This unity strengthens us, and division weakens us - no one can argue the Battle taught us this, did it not?

"To that end, we plan a military exchange program between countries, such as Gondor, Rohan, and even other Elven realms so their armies can learn from our unique blend of cultures here, and it is our hope that it will be successful.

"The Lord of the Golden Wood would like to send some troops here soon, though we are only getting started. Perhaps it is because we are at the beginnings if this, that Celeborn finds the timing to be right; we are growing and learning together, yes?"

Daeron's eyes narrowed. "So… soldiers from the Woodland Realm will go to Lothlórien?"

"To be specific, I want to send Guardians. Your training and skills match those of their Wardens."

"And you want me to select a unit of troops willing to go, for… how long?"

"Feren will gather the rest of the candidates. The assignment will last one year."

Thranduil held Daeron's gaze, and the Guard said nothing for a moment or two. "My Lord… Are you commanding me to go?"

The Elvenking shook his head. "The posting is voluntary, but I strongly suggest you take advantage of this opportunity."

"That would be… a blessing," the Guard mused, "but I am assigned to protect the King of Dale; I cannot turn away from such a responsibility!"

"I admire your dedication, but the immediate chaos in Dale has settled down, and for the foreseeable future Bard will be in his study most of the time. Turamarth would take your place while you are gone. His Westron is nearly fluent, and he is as talented with the sword and bow as you are."

"Does anyone else know?"

"I have spoken to no one except Bard, Mellon nîn. He knows of your… difficulties."

"You have spoken of this with him?"

The Elvenking shook his head. "He guessed the generalities, but knows no details, and does not ask any questions. In any case, Rhian is his subject and a friend of the family, so it is appropriate for him to have at least some knowledge of your situation. You should know," he looked at the Elf with compassion, "several more in our family circle have begun to suspect something, but you can be sure nothing will be said. Daeron, I do not think you can conceal this much longer, and if you stay, she may hear of your feelings from someone else, before she has a chance to understand her own heart. No one wants that."

Daeron sighed and put his face in his hands. "I never asked for this; I was content with my memories and was learning to be happy again. I never thought... I only wanted to help her carry water that day, and when I touched her wrist, it was…"

"Instantaneous?"

"Yes. I tried to deny it. I told myself it was just compassion, because she reminded me of Miriam. Then one day she smiled at me and..."

"No one can dictate where a heart wishes to travel, Daeron, and nothing can guarantee happiness when it does." The Elvenking looked upon him with pity. "That is the truth of things. What is also truth, is that you cannot go on like this, and I do not wish to see you fall into despair once more."

"And the assignment is for an entire year?"

"One year." Thranduil confirmed. "There is something else you should know, and it is one of the reasons why I asked to meet with you." He unfolded the letter, and removed a smaller, sealed note. "The Lady Galadriel has personally asked for you."

"Me?" Daeron's jaw dropped.

"She asked for you by name."

"But… how does she even know about me?"

"I do not know. Mithrandir assures me he never mentioned you, nor have I in our correspondence. I suspect she has heard of your extensive experience treating human patients and wants you to help train her Healers. It would make sense; if they wish to engage with the outer world, she wants their people well-prepared."

"I can hardly believe it..." The Guard was dazed.

"There is something else you must consider, Daeron." Thranduil leaned forward. "I do not think the Lady has requested your participation simply because you are a talented soldier and gifted Healer." He handed him the note. "This is for you."

Daeron took it, and his eyes widened like saucers when he read:

Daeron Adamarion, Lieutenant

Guardian of the Woodland Realm

He turned it over in his hand and examined the seal of golden wax.

"The Lady sent me a message…" his voice was small, and he held it away from him, not quite knowing what to do. "What does it say?"

"I have no idea, Mellon." Thranduil smiled. "There is only one way to find out."

The Guard's hands trembled as he broke the seal, and unfolded the paper. The message, written in flowing Tengwar script, contained only two sentences:

Not every mountain path can be seen from the valley before it.

That which you seek searches for you, as well.

Confused, he handed the paper to his King.

"This is personal, Daeron. You do not have to show this to me," Thranduil offered.

"Please; I do not understand what it means."

After studying it for a few moments, he handed it back. "I do not understand it either, but none of Lady Galadriel's actions are without purpose. I also suspect you will not find the answers here."

"When would the unit leave for Lothlórien?"

"In the third week of September. The Wardens will arrive at the Palace during the second week, then be escorted to Dale from there."

Thranduil took a drink of his tea. "Take some time to decide. We go to the Palace to attend Dior and Meriel's wedding, so you could discuss things with your family, then. Send no written correspondence; this mission is not common knowledge yet."

"Yes, of course."

"Feren and I will need your answer by the end of August. I want to assure you that while I think this is a good idea, no one is going to force you, nor will we think less of you if you decide to decline. I could offer you a temporary assignment in the Woodland Realm, as an alternative."

The Guard sat in silence for a moment or two. "I will think about what you have said. Do I have permission to discuss this with Turamarth?"

"You do," Thranduil stood up, "provided it goes no further. I want you to examine Tilda immediately after this, then take some time to digest all of this. I have arranged the schedule for you to report two hours after the noon bell, and then work until sundown. Bard plans to visit Mistress Ellyn later and discover the results of her tests; I am sure you want to be present."

"I do." Daeron stood and saluted. "Thank you, My Lord."

"Dismissed.

The Guard went through doors of the Great Hall and saw that the rains had stopped, at least temporarily, so he went to the stables, saddled Aegis, and headed for his Oak Tree to think.

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When he returned to his apartment, Turamarth greeted him cheerfully from the table. "Daeron! I thought you were working this morning. Do you want some lunch?"

"Maybe later." He sat down with a sigh.

"Is something wrong?"

"No. Well, yes. Maybe."

Turamarth crooked his eyebrow. "That sounds ominous."

"I have something to tell you, but it must remain private, for now."

"Of course."

He related to his cousin the news their King and brought him.

"An entire year?" Turamarth asked. "I could volunteer and go with you."

"You are more than qualified, Gwador, but Lord Thranduil has other plans for you."

"Why you, especially?"

Daeron handed him the note bearing the Lady's personal seal.

"From her?" he exclaimed. "Nan ear adh in elin… Ú!"

"Apparently. What do you think it means?"

Turamarth's lips moved silently, as he read the note over several times. "I do not know… It might mean you will discover your destiny in Lothlórien. If this is true, then you must go."

"It would be the only way to discover the meaning of this."

"But would you come back? What if I am right, and your answer is to stay?" Turamarth gave him a worried look.

"We are thinking too far ahead." Daeron told him. "The real purpose of this mission is to is to help relations between our Realms. I doubt you would be able to join me; Lord Thranduil wants you to take my place as Guard to King Bard. If I decide to go."

"I would be honored, and of course you will go; how could you not? When do you have to give him your answer?"

"I will talk to our parents when we are back home. I must give the King my answer after that."

Turamarth grinned. "You know Aunt Idril will want you to go, and send back recipes, for her kitchens."

Daeron laughed, for a second, then became serious. "Gwador, there is something I would like you to do for me, while I am gone…"

"Anything, Mellon."

After he finished talking, Turamarth agreed with that, too.

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"Hello, love!" Bard looked up from his desk. "Please tell me it's time for lunch. My eyes are bugging out."

"It will be soon." Thranduil smiled from the doorway. "Do you have a moment or two?"

"I do." Bard stood up, and followed the King to their bedchamber and shut the door. "So… what happened?"

"I think he will do it. He showed me Lady Galadriel's note and it was... puzzling."

"Are you worried?" Bard asked.

"If I thought harm would come to him, I would rescind the offer and command him to stay. I think Galadriel means to help him, but I do not know how. Perhaps even she does not know precisely what is intended for him, only that he needs to come."

"That is mysterious."

Thranduil went over and kissed him. "I like mysteries. It was a mystery why I was fascinated with you, when we first came to Dale…"

"…and look how that turned out." Bard whispered against his lips and put his hand on the back of Thranduil's head and plundered his mouth. "I'll never forget the moment I saw you up on that beast, with your nose in the air…"

"Oh, Meleth, what you saw was an Elvenking, bowled over by the sight of the man before him. I did not want admit it to myself then, but something in me knew you would change the course of my life."

"Well, I'm glad you did something about that…" Bard rubbed their noses together. "Speaking of 'something,' love, how long till lunch?"

"The bell should ring in half an hour."

"Good." Bard put his hands on Thranduil's chest and pushed him over to the bed, and onto his back.

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"Thank you, Meleth nîn," the Elvenking raised his arms over his head in a long stretch. "That was a delightful lunch."

"I thought we should celebrate."

"Celebrate what, Hervenn nîn?"

"Seven years ago today, we first met on the Forest River, and you gave me a job delivering your wine."

"Really? That was this date?"

"It was. I'll never forget the first time I saw you." Bard snuggled in and closed his eyes. "You were magnificent to look at, to be sure, but I was too nervous and too desperate to think much about it, then. I felt so… beneath you."

"It hurts me to know that, Bard. I never thought as such; in fact, I liked you. I must be honest and say that I felt no stirring of my fëa, then. Your heart was in pieces; your grief was palpable. It was easy to see that, because I was the same way."

The Bowman sighed. "It was a weight that threatened to crush me, back then. When you told me the Master had sent you a letter denouncing me, I thought I was finished, and didn't know what to do. If I had no way to feed my family, there was no reason to even go on."

"Oh, Meleth nîn…" Thranduil kissed his hair.

"I didn't care whether I lived or died, to be honest, but that day showed me I might learn to hope again. It was more than just a job, to me; all those quiet trips on the River helped me learn to live again. In the winter, the ice sparkling on the branches was beautiful to look at, so different from the dull grey of Laketown. The summer flowers and all the greenery showed me that life goes on, and it would be all right." Bard sighed again. "I spent many nights lying there on the Barge, looking up at the stars, talking to Mattie... I did a lot of my crying in the dark, too. There was a so much pain and grief I couldn't even share with Percy."

Thranduil ran his fingers through his thick curls. "I shared the worst of my pain with the same stars…"

"Mírelen and Mattie must have heard us, and decided something needed to be done." Bard smiled.

"That is a comforting thought. When you first saw me in Dale, did you feel something, too?"

"I'd love to say yes, but we had so many that were sick, and the children were crying with hunger." He chuckled. "But the night after the Battle, when you took me to my tent and helped me into the bath, I knew you were checking me out."

The Elvenking raised his head. "I was not!"

"Oh yes, you were! I saw how your eyes gave me the once-over, and it wasn't just to check for bruises or broken bones." He raised his head to meet Thranduil's eyes and grinned. "Unless of course, you thought my cock was broken and needed closer examination."

Bard's answer was a sharp tug on his hair. "Ow!"

"You are a crude Bowman," the Elf narrowed his eyes.

"Perhaps, but I am your crude Bowman, and you love me that way." Bard reached under his tunic and played with his nipples.

"I do."

"I hope my cock was everything you hoped it would be."

"Mmmm… It is. Especially when it is inside me." Thranduil wrapped his arms around Bard again and kissed his temple.

"To answer your question, the night when you helped me into the bath was what started it, I think."

"Because, as you say, I 'checked you out?'"

"No. It was the first time you showed me kindness. I started to think of you differently the next day in your tent, when you told me the truth about why you tried to leave the Battle."

"You pitied me?"

"No, no love; nothing like that," He kissed Thranduil's shoulder. "I didn't feel pity at all - I felt... honored. You came out from behind that 'mask' you were wearing, and allowed yourself to be vulnerable with me. I knew you wouldn't do that for just anyone. Something stirred in me, and wanted to know what it meant. Then, we came to your tent for dinner and you gave Tilda her doll. She came alive again like magic, and when she hugged you so tight, I saw the look on your face, and knew I was in love with you."

The two of them enjoyed several deep kisses, before Bard asked, "Tell me: how did you find Charlotte, in the first place?"

"Ah. Well, I must confess something."

"What is that, love?"

"I watched you and your family the night of the Battle, when you were sitting around the fire. I wanted to see if you were all right, and wondered if you had found your children."

"I didn't see you."

Thranduil sighed. "I didn't want to be seen. I had been confronted with all of my failures that day, especially as a parent, and I wanted to see you with your children."

"Why?"

I... forgot how be affectionate and loving to Legolas and Tauriel, and... I thought I had lost them."

"You were lonely."

"Very. I had seen your children around the camps before the Battle, of course, but always from a distance. You had nothing but the clothes on your backs, but were…happy with each other, and I…" Thranduil swallowed. "After I set you up in your bath, I was walking through the rubble, and found the doll lying there in the streets. It's face was full of bloodstains, and I could see why Tilda thought it was frightening. I sent it back to the Palace to see if Glélindë could fix her."

"That was way before you and I even knew we cared for each other." Bard was amazed. "Why would you do that?"

"The state Tilda was in that night, and the look on your face when you held her, tore at my heart. It was how I felt when Tauriel was weeping over her dead Dwarven Prince. There was nothing I could do to ease her pain, and I felt helpless. I thought if I could help your child, it might help me bear my own loss."

Bard rolled on top of Thranduil and looked deep into his eyes. "Ci velethron e-guil nîn, Aran nîn."

Thranduil smiled and held the Bowman's face in his hands, kissed him, and replied, "And you are the love of my life, My King."

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At the lunch table, the children were eager for their afternoon in the training hall with Tauriel and Thranduil.

"Where is Rhian?" Thranduil asked. "Could she not come?"

"She had a session with Hannah this morning, and will come after Darryn wakes up from his nap."

"I can work with you for about two hours," he told them, "then your Da and I need to go to the Healing Hall to visit Mistress Ellyn and her children."

"I'm not allowed to jump around," Tilda asked, "but I still want to go with you and Tauriel. Can I just watch?"

"Of course, you can," Bard told her. "Daeron checked you over and said you were fine, so Tauriel can show you a few moves you can learn, even now. But you must do whatever she and Ada tell you."

"I can also help with Darryn."

"Yes, you can, hênig." Thranduil put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. "But after we are done, I want you to take a nap. Galion and Hilda will be in their offices, so they will listen for you."

"Okay, Ada."

"It stopped raining," Bain observed. "Maybe we can go out, later."

"I doubt that; more storms are coming; bad ones." Percy said.

"How do you know, Uncle Percy?" Tilda wanted to know.

"Years and years of working on the Lake, Little Bean. I can feel it in my bones." He winked at her. "Bard, I've ordered a carriage to take you to the Healers at half past two."

"I pray for good news." Galion said, and everyone around the table nodded their agreement.

"Me, too." Hilda said.

"Will Bowen and Maddox's Mam get better?"

"We sure hope so, Beanie. But we'll do everything we can to help."

"Ada can fix anything!" Tilda looked up at him with confidence.

"Oh, Tithen Pen," Thranduil smiled sadly, "if only that were true. Sometimes, things happen that are beyond all of us. Whatever happens, your Da is right; we will help them, just like we will help anyone in need."

"Can I go with you, Da?" Sigrid asked him.

"Sorry, darling. I think this is a time for immediate family. Ada and I just want to offer our presence and support."

"Let's hope for good news." Bain said, held up his crossed fingers.

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The carriage arrived at the steps of the Great Hall, just as Daeron and Turamarth approached.

"Hello, Powell!" The Guard greeted the driver, then looked at Thranduil. "My Lord, if it pleases you, I would like Turamarth to join us. I want to introduce him to young Bowen..."

"That is a good idea." Thranduil turned to Ivran. "You may take a break, if you wish, Ruvyn, you will accompany us."

"Thank you, My Lord." Ivran saluted and went back into the Great Hall.

After Daeron opened the door for the Kings and Ruvyn, he and Turamarth jumped onto the runners and hung on to each side and away they went.

"Here we are, My Lords." Powell called down as he pulled the white horses to a stop. The young man was dark-haired, like his father, but his face was merry like his mother, and shared her ruddy cheeks and curls.

"You do not have to get down, Powell; we will escort the Kings." Daeron jumped down and opened the door closest to the entrance of the Healing House. Once out, Turamarth stepped around and quickly scanned the crowd for any sign of trouble, then went behind the Kings as they entered.

"Lord Bard!" Bowen came up and wrapped his arms around the King. Daeron was met with smaller arms, as Maddox wrapped his arms around the Guard's knees.

"Hello, son. How are you?" Bard looked down at the Bowen's worried eyes.

"Daffyd and Anna are in with Mam and the Healers now."

"Are you here to see Mam?" Maddox asked them.

"Yes, child, but we are also here to see if you boys are well." Thranduil smiled kindly down at the small face. "We did not think you would like to wait by yourselves, would you?"

Maddox shook his head, but Bowen looked down at his feet and tried to fight off tears. "Thank you," he whispered quietly.

"Bowen?" Daeron came over and squatted in front of the boy. "There is someone I would like you to meet." He motioned for his cousin to come over. "This is my friend Turamarth."

"Are you brothers? You look alike."

"No, we are cousins, but we grew up like brothers." Turamarth answered with a grin. "Our mothers are identical twins. He looks like me, but," he leaned forward and whispered, "I am better looking. Don't say anything to Daeron; he gets touchy about it." The Elf held out his hand, and Bowen shook it. "I am very pleased to meet you. And this is your brother?"

"Aye, this is Maddox. I call him Mad, or Maddie."

"Hello, Maddox. Or, as we say in Sindarin, 'Suilad, Maddox. Turamarth i eneth nîn.'"

"What does that mean?"

"'Greetings, Maddox. My name is Turamarth.'"

"Wow…" The little boy breathed. "Is Sindarin hard?"

"Not to me, but I only learned to speak in your language last winter. My cousin is hoping you and your brother will help me learn even more, and in return, I would like to teach you both to ride our Elven horses." The Guard turned to Bowen. "And eleven is old enough to begin the basics in archery, if you are agreeable."

"Really?" Bowen's eyes held a little spark. "But… I don't know when…"

"Worry not, Mellon nîn. Just know that when you are ready, you must allow me to teach you, because," he whispered conspiratorially, "I am much better with a bow and arrow than Daeron."

"You are?" he asked Daeron, who nodded his head.

"No one is a better archer than King Bard!" Madd said with loyalty.

Before anyone could come up with answer for that, Elénaril came out to the waiting area to get the boys.

"Your mother wants to see you," she smiled and held out her hand.

"Can Daeron and Lord Bard come?" Bowen asked, groping for the King's fingers and held them tight.

Elénaril's eyes narrowed slightly, then she gave a slight nod. "Yes. I think your mother would approve. Could the rest of you wait here, please?"

As they made their way through to the residential area, Bard prayed silently. Please… let her be all right…

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They came to Ellyn's room, and saw Daffyd and Anna sitting on either side of her bed. Anna was holding Ellyn's hand, and the tears in her eyes and the splotches on her face told Bard everything he didn't want to know, despite the brave smile Ellyn gave her sons, as she held out her arms.

Oh, no… it can't be…

Ermon came out to greet them, and motioned for them to go in the hall.

"It's bad, isn't it?" Bard whispered.

The Chief Healer put his fingers to his lips, shut the door and took them over to an empty room.

"I am afraid it is, My Lord. We have examined her twice to be sure, and have discovered the disease never started in her brain, but from a large spot on her back. Humans often have 'moles,' so I imagine she thought nothing of it. It's location on her back would prevent her from noticing any changes."

"Hardly anyone in Laketown had looking glasses, and there was precious little medicine for such things." Bard said sadly. "I'm sure had you Elves found it early on, it could have been easily dealt with, but…"

"It could have been," Daeron added. "I used to see it in Old Dale, and searching for such things became part of a regular examination there."

"And it will be again; I'll see to that. Is there nothing to be done?" Bard asked.

"It is everywhere, My Lord. In her lymph glands, in her organs and in her bones, even. I am so very sorry."

"How long does she have?"

"Weeks. We can make her comfortable, for as long as possible. Mistress Ellyn has stated she does not want her children to see her in pain, so when it becomes too great, she will be put into a deep sleep, so she can slip away peacefully."

Bard closed his eyes and shook his head. "I just can't believe –"

"NO!" A loud, outraged voice was heard from the room. "That's a lie! You're lying! It's not true!"

The door slammed open and Bowen took off down the hall.

Instantly, Bard and Daeron ran after him.

"Bowen!" Daeron called. "Wait!"

But the boy didn't slow down until he reached the waiting room, where Bard found him in front of the Elvenking screaming in fury.

"You're supposed to be this powerful Elf, so why are you sitting out here, doing nothing! You're a KING, and you could make them HELP HER!"

Before Thranduil had a chance to respond, the boy looked at Daeron and his lip curled with contempt. "YOU said the Healers know even more than you do! I saw you fix Mad's foot. I saw you! You got all bright and he was better! But you're going to let Mam die? Can't you help her?" Bowen began to cry. "Please… I can't lose her, too." He brushed his sleeve over his eyes.

"Son…" Bard began, reaching for his shoulder.

Bowen's head whipped up in fury. "Don't you DARE touch me! You don't get to come anywhere near me again! And don't EVER call me your 'son!' Only my Da did that and he's DEAD! I talked to the stars, just like he told me to, and Ulmo was supposed to send help! Da said he would help me!" he said between gritted teeth. His hands were clenched so hard his knuckles were white.

"I am sorry, Bowen." Daeron said in a soothing voice. "Did they explain things to you?"

"It's not true! It's NOT! I believed… in all of you!" Bowen's breath caught. "Da said to talk to the stars and he would send help; he promised! H-he promised me! I can't…. He..." he sobbed, "...and now Mam…" The child could hardly breath from shock and distress. "It's not true..."

"Bowen," Bard went down on one knee. "I promise, we'll do everything we can to help…"

"Don't ever use that word again! Promises are nothing! Nothing is all right when it never will be again!" He poked his finger in Bard's face. "If my Da hadn't fought in your STUPID WAR, he'd be here, wouldn't he? YOU made him fight! And now he's dead, and my Mam is gonna die too, and it's YOUR FAULT we'll be all alone!" The boy's face was wet with tears of pain and outrage. "You… Bastard!" his chest heaved, as he tried to catch his breath. "I hate you! I hate you!"

"Bowen, please," Bard reached out for the boy, just as Daffyd and Anna came running out.

"What's wrong?" Daffyd asked.

Everyone turned to look at the couple, so Bard didn't see it coming. Bowen drew back his fist and punched him hard in the jaw, knocking him on his arse.

"Bowen!" Daffyd yelled, as Anna's hands flew to her mouth. "Don't –"

But it was too late. The boy opened the door and ran into the pouring rain, just as a loud clap of thunder filled the air.

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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

Nan ear adh in elin… Ú! - By the Sea and Stars… It cannot be!

Gwador - My sworn brother

Donor – Oak tree

Ci velethron e-guil nîn, Aran nîn – You are the love of my life, My King

Suilad, Maddox. Turamarth i eneth nîn - Greetings, Maddox. My name is Turamarth

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NOTES:

Ellyn is suffering from what we call malignant melanoma. Sadly, not even Elves of Middle Earth can do much about it, when it progresses too far.