Chapter Eleven

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SUMMARY: Bowen, in his anguish, has struck the King of Dale, and ran out into the terrible thunderstorm.

Will they find him? What will happen then?

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"I miss you in waves and tonight I'm drowning. You left me fending for my life and it feels like you're the only one who can bring me back to the shore alive."

― Denice Envall

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City of Dale, 20th of July, 2942 T.A.

"BARD!"

Everyone rushed to the King of Dale, who was laid out on the floor.

Thranduil helped him sit up. "Are you well?" he asked, as Daeron checked his jaw.

"Never mind me; I'm fine." Bard held his jaw as he addressed Daeron and Turamarth. "You two need to go find that boy!" We'll stay here, and Ruvyn will guard in your stead."

Anna was frightened. "He's just a child, My Lord! Surely you can see how upset he is!" She started to cry, and her husband put his arm around her.

"She's right. He hardly sleeps or eats, and all that has taken its toll. And now, he probably thinks he's going to punished." Daffyd sighed. "Bowen is not well, and he needs a break from all this, or we may lose him altogether."

Bard nodded and put his hand up. "We're going help him, not punish him," he promised the weeping woman. "This incident is under Seal, is that clear? No one is to speak of it.. Now, we need to keep Ellyn from getting upset, until we know exactly what's going on. Anna, go back and tell her we're seeing to him; he just needs a little time. Daffyd, I want you to go home, in case he goes there."

The King of Dale addressed the two Guards. "It's chilly out there from the rains, and the boy could get sick, but I'm afraid if Bowen sees a lot of strangers in uniform, he'll go further into hiding. I'll give you two hours to find the boy on your own, then I'll have to sound the bells and send every able-bodied person out to join the search."

Thranduil spoke to Daeron.. "When you find him, we will trust your judgement as to what to do with him. Lord Bard and I will visit Ellyn for a few minutes, then go back to the Castle to await word."

"Yes, My Lord."

Another flash of lightning and clap of thunder filled the air. "Leave your armor and swords here; the last thing we need is for one of you to get struck by lightning." Bard ordered. "We'll get it back to you."

Daeron and Turamarth saluted, and out the door they went.

Thranduil put his hand on Bard's arm. "Are you well?"

"Oh, I'll be fine," though Bard was rubbing and working his jaw. "That lad can really pack a punch, though," the corner of his mouth curved up.

"I'm so sorry, My Lord!" Anna came over to beg forgiveness.

"Don't worry about that. We'll tell his Mam Bowen needs to calm down a little. Daffyd? Get Powell out of this weather. Tell him to leave his carriage out there and wait in here, until we're ready to leave. Take your own carriage and go home and see if the boy goes there."

"Right away, My Lord." When the man opened the door, they all saw another flash of lightning, followed by a loud clap of thunder. The rain was now a downpour.

"Oh, the poor boy…" Anna clutched her chest. "What if –"

Thranduil stepped over. "Come Mistress. Do not let your mind go to dark places, until you must. Whatever is amiss, we will make sure young Bowen comes to no harm."

The Elvenking led the way back to the patient's room, to find Elénaril sitting on the bed, holding Owena, with Maddox snuggled against his mother.

Thranduil went over and kissed her hand. "How do you feel, Mistress Ellyn? Are you in pain?"

"No, thank the Stars. They've been taking good care of me."

"My Mam's really, really sick." Mad looked up at Thranduil, with sad eyes that pierced the Elvenking's heart. "But she says Daffyd and Anna will take care of us."

Thranduil stroked the boy's head. "I am sorry she is sick, child. Your Mam must love you a great deal to make sure you will be looked after."

Elénaril got up with the baby, and held her hand out. "Maddox, would you like some juice? I think I know where we can find some cookies to go with it."

The boy looked up at his Mam, who smiled. "Go on, lovey. I'll just talk to Lord Bard and Lord Thranduil for a few minutes."

"Do you want me to bring you one, Mam?"

"I'd love that."

After they left, Bard came over. "Ellyn, I'm so sorry. I really am."

"Please, My Lord. I don't have time to lament my bad luck. I need to spend what I have left making sure my children are all right." She gave him a sad smile.

"Can I do anything?"

"Yes, if you would. I can't…" she held up her hands. "They're so weak now, but I want to write letters to my children. I want them to know I'll be thinking of them throughout their lives."

"I will send someone over, to write whatever you dictate." Bard took both her hands in his. "And I will keep the letters and see that they get them personally."

"If you would, My Lord. Anna will have so much to do and I don't want to burden her –"

"Nonsense, Ellyn!" Anna protested. "'Tis no burden, you know that! I'm happy to do it."

"All the same, I want Lord Bard to keep them and give them out. This way, they know their King is looking after them."

"I'd be honored, good lady. Would you be willing to allow Princess Sigrid to help with this? She is eager to be of use, and her handwriting and spelling are good."

"That would be nice." Ellyn looked out in the Hall. "Where's Bowen? Has he settled down?"

Bard smiled and rubbed her hands. "He's taking things a bit hard, but we'll make sure he's all right."

"I know he's angry and upset," Ellyn's eyes filled with tears. "It's all been so hard on him; too hard. He's such a good boy…"

"I know he is," Bard patted her shoulder. "I have some people looking out for him, so please, don't worry."

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I hit King Bard…. I hit the King... I punched him! I punched the King of Dale! Oh, gods; oh no! Right in front of the Elves...what are they going to do to me?

Bowen's stomach turned, and he blindly ran out of the Healing House, through the streets. His heart was pounding in terror, and he could hardly see where he was going, between the rain and the tears that just wouldn't stop.

He cleaned and cooked and took care of his brother and sister, and tried to be strong for his Mam. At night, when he couldn't sleep, he looked up at the stars and prayed and prayed, begging Da to help him. Bowen believed if he did everything the way Da wanted, they would all be safe, and the hurt would go away from missing him. Some days it helped, and when it didn't, he worked and prayed even harder.

But now…

Talking to the stars meant nothing. It was all a cruel lie. Da wasn't up there - he never was! Ulmo never even knew or cared about helping him! Maybe there was no such thing as the Valar, either. They were just stories people made up to feel better. Bowen had really believed them, and now he felt stupid.

So many lies… Was anything worth believing in?

It didn't feel like it.

Finally, he stopped running, and bent over to try and catch his breath. He looked around, and saw nothing familiar – he was lost. The King's men were going to come for him, and he needed to find a place to hide, so he just kept walking, dashing in between houses and alleyways to avoid being seen, ducking under stoops and clapping his hands over his ears when the thunder got too loud.

Whenever Maddie cried during storms like this, Bowen would put his arms around him and sing to distract him. He'd never be able to do that again, or even see his brother or baby sister grow up.

Bowen had punched the King of Dale, and that meant he would be put to death. All kinds of horrible scenarios played out in his head, and he imagined Maddox crying as he watched. Would they hang him? Cut off his head?

It didn't matter if he died. Nothing mattered anymore, but he didn't want Mad and Owena to be burdened with the shame of a public trial execution, so he'd have to find a way to do it himself.

It was the right thing to do. Bowen had no hopes or faith left, so he could just go be with Da and Mam, and…

Mam….

At this thought, he began to sob. He didn't take care of her right, and now she was sick and was going to die.

It was his fault. It was all his fault.

Blinded with tears, he wandered into the backyard of a building, and leaned against the wet stone wall to try and steady himself, but after a few moments, grabbed his middle and began to vomit.

Once his stomach was empty, he became dizzy and began to shake, as he fell down on all fours and crawled underneath a large bush nearby, curled up in a tight ball, and closed his eyes, wishing he could just disappear, and no one would find him.

So tired…. So, so tired…

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They were looking everywhere they could think of.

Turamarth and his cousin stopped the few people out in this weather to ask if they'd seen the boy, but without success.

He heaved a sigh. "What about Ellyn's home?"

"I doubt he would go there, but we have to try," Daeron answered. "Come on!"

The Elves ran through the streets in the heavy rain and finally arrived at Mistress Ellyn's home.

"No wet footprints on the steps."

"He could have removed his boots and carried them. Come on!"

Turamarth followed Daeron as he ran up the stairs, three at a time, until they reached the landing, but the door was locked. He reached down and pulled the small, thin knife out of his boot and inserted in in the keyhole.

"Where did you learn to do that?" Daeron hissed, eyes wide.

Turamarth just grinned as he carefully worked the blade until he heard a soft click. He turned the knob with a huff of triumph as the door swung open.

"You are going to tell me how you learned to do that, Gwador," Daeron rolled his eyes.

"Perhaps, but not today," Turamarth answered. "Bowen? Are you here?"

No answer. They checked every room, every closet, under every piece of furniture.

"I was hoping I was wrong." Daeron said, as after they were done checking under the beds. The sky exploded with a flash and thunder cracked the air almost immediately. "The storm is right over us. I pray he is out somewhere out of this… Tur? When the children stayed with the Kings, did they go anywhere, or do anything special?"

"Tauriel and I took them to the stables to ride the horses." Turamarth met Daeron's eyes. "Maybe..."

Quickly they ran, splashing through the puddles to the other side of the city where the Royal Stables were.

"Did you see a young boy come in here?" Daeron asked Henry, the Groomsman, as they entered his office.

The Man looked them over skeptically. "You'd have to be nuts to take a horse out in this!"

"The child we are looking for has run away."

"What did he do?"

"He was given some tragic news, and he is distraught. King Bard has ordered us to find him."

"Poor lad," the Groomsman pushed his chair back and walked around his desk. "Come on; I'll help you look."

The three of them checked every stall, every nook and cranny of the stables, the hayloft, the tack rooms, and even back by the manure pile, with when the sun goes down."no luck.

"I hope you find him." Henry pulled a small flask from his pocket. "Here. Take this, in case he needs warming up. It's chilly out there in the wet, and the wind makes it colder."

"Thank you, sir." Turamarth put his hand and saluted him. "We will return it as soon as we can."

"I'll keep a good thought."

They were back out in the street, wondering what to do next.

"Rhaich, Limp!" Turamarth swore. "I am out of ideas, at the moment."

They dashed under a nearby awning to get out of the rain, and gather their thoughts.

"Tell me everything you know of the boy." Turamarth said.

"I told you this already."

"Tell me again. Maybe we missed something."

Daeron repeated the story of his father's death, and all the details of theatrical meeting in the park.

Turamarth put his fingers to his chin and thought. "If he was that dedicated to his mother, do you not think he would still want to be in the same proximity as her?"

"Could he have backtracked to be near the Healing House?"

"It is possible," Tur nodded. "Let us check again. Do not call out his name anymore. We can hardly hear ourselves over the thunder anyway, and he might think we mean to harm him."

"That is a good idea."

Back into the rain they went, to the center of Dale to the Healing House. From there, the two Elves split up and worked outward, and checked every alley, under every staircase, every back lot of the all the nearby buildings.

Half an hour later, Turamarth came to the big yard behind an apartment house two blocks away, and discovered the remnants of stomach contents. Someone had been sick here, and not too long ago. He looked around and thought he spied a patch of blue underneath one of the large bushes.

"Bowen? Is that you?"

Silence.

"Bowen?"

Turamarth crouched down and pushed some of the foliage out of the way, and saw the blonde boy curled up on his side, in a tight, shivering ball.

He let out several loud whistles to signal his cousin, then kneeled down and tried to reach for Bowen, but the boy whimpered and shrank from his touch.

"Daeron and I have been looking all over for you," he said softly. "Will you not come out and speak with us?"

Bowen pulled his knees closer to his chest and buried his face. "I c-can't."

"Why not?"

"You'll arrest m-me."

"Why would you think that, Bowen?"

"You know w-why." Bowen teeth started to chatter as he shook. "I s-struck the King, and I'll be h-hanged."

"That is not true."

"You're only saying that, so I'll come out."

"Lord Bard knows you did not mean it; he is not angry."

"I don't b-believe you!" Bowen pulled tighter into himself and began to cry again.

Daeron came running up. "Where is he?"

Turamarth stood up and pointed to the bush. "Bowen is afraid we are here to arrest him," he whispered in Sindarin. "He is in shock, and we need to get him out, but I do not think we should try to force him."

The Guard/Healer saw the boy's trembling, and was concerned. "If we cannot persuade him in three minutes, I will put him under a losta-luith, and we will go get him."

The Elves sat cross legged on the ground and Daeron moved the branches aside again.

"Bowen?" Daeron sat down in the mud and leaned into the brush. "Did you know Lord Bard is worried about you? Anna and Daffyd are concerned, as well. We were afraid you had been hurt."

"That's w-what Turamarth s-said." They could hear the boy's teeth chatter.

"Turamarth is telling the truth, Bowen. I know you are feeling badly, and I would like to help you. Do you believe me?"

After a few moments, Bowen said in low voice. "I d-don't believe in anything a-anymore.

"You are not well, child; you are chilled, and we need to get you somewhere dry and warm and get you something to eat. Please, let us help you."

"You'll t-tell King Bard w-where I am, and he will h-have me killed."

"He will not, I promise."

"I don't b-believe you. Everybody p-promises, and Da's d-dead, and, and n-nobody wants to h-help Mam…"

"We all want to help your mother, Bowen, but there are just some things we cannot cure; I am very sorry about that. I know how it feels to be so helpless, Bowen."

"You d-don't know anything! You d-don't know what it's l-like!"

Turamarth looked at his cousin and nodded, tell him.

"Yes, I do, Bowen." Daeron sighed. "I, too, lost someone I loved very much. She was dying, and though I tried and tried with all my might, I could not save her. I felt like you for a very long time."

Bowen's head came up, and Turamarth watched the boy search his cousin's eyes for several minutes, finding truth in them. Then he slowly sat upright, but still hugged his knees tight, and his shivering became worse.

"Did you c-cry?"

"For a long time. My heart was broken, and I did not know what to do, or what to even believe. I got better, because I had people who helped me, just like we want to help you."

"Who helped you?"

"My family, and my friends, but the one who helped me the most was Turamarth. He traveled a long way to see me, then he brought me back home and looked after me every day. Bowen, I know the despair you are in. It feels like you are drowning, and you cannot see beyond the pain you feel right now. But my cousin took excellent care of me, and little by little I got better."

Bowen's light blue eyes met Tur's. "You h-helped Daeron?"

"I did, and was glad to do it. I would like to help you, too, if you would let me."

"Are you s-sure King B-Bard's not m-mad?" Bowen shivered.

The Elf put his hand over his heart. "A Guardian never lies." He slowly extended his hand toward the shivering boy. "Please, child, allow me to help you."

The boy stared at the Elf's hand for a long time, as his chin quivered, as he considered the outstretch hand.

"We will take small steps together. For now, only think about taking my hand, hênig. Just think of that, and nothing else."

He kept his hand steady, as child unfolded one of his arms and slowly reached out, but curled his fingers and shrank back.

Pity filled Tur's heart. The boy's fear had little to do with this bush, facing King Bard, or even the rain. Taking his hand meant Bowen would have to face the tragedies that had befallen him, and it was more than anyone should have to bear, let alone a lonely, burdened young boy.

"You are doing well." Turamarth smiled and reminded him. "Only think about putting your hand in mine. Stretch your arm and set your fingers in my hand. Nothing bad is going to happen, Bowen."

He swallowed, and tried again. He touched the tip of Turamarth's fingers, then rested his hand in the Elf's, and let it stay there.

"Very good! Now I am going to hold your hand…" Slowly, his smooth long fingers closed around it.

"How do you feel, Bowen?"

"S-scared."

"I know. May I squeeze your hand?"

He did so, after the boy nodded. "That was not so bad, was it? Now, can you please come toward us, just a little?"

Bowen put his other hand on the ground and scooted forward a tiny bit, and his breath quickened in panic.

"You are doing well, Bowen." Daeron said in soothing tones. "Take some slow, deep breaths, and only think about how Turamarth's hand feels. I am going to move these branches out of the way so we can see you better."

"I d-don't w-want you to."

"I know, but I need to see you, to make sure you are not hurt anywhere."

"Okay."

The Guard slowly pulled several branches to the side, and aside from two scratches on the boy's cheek and forehead, he appeared uninjured.

"Do you think you are ready to come closer?" Turamarth asked him. "Please try."

The boy started to scoot forward, then stopped. "Is a-anyone else out t-there?"

"There is only Daeron and myself, and we will not hurt you. We do not even have our swords with us."

Bowen tilted his head and looked. Their armor was gone, and the loops that carried their scabbards were both empty. "What happened to them?"

"We did not want them out in the rain. We will get them back later." The Elf squeezed his hand again. "Can you try to come forward again?"

"Do I h-have to go see e-everybody?"

"You do not have to see anyone until you feel a little better."

"Where w-will you t-take m-me?"

"Our home is not far from here. Would you like to go there?" Daeron offered.

"I d-don't know."

"We really need to get you out of this rain, now. You are very cold, and it will become dark in a little while. Please, Bowen."

"Okay."

Bowen slowly scooted out and Turamarth put his hands on the boy's shoulder and smile at him. "I am proud of you, Bowen."

"Nobody's g-going to h-hurt me?" The chattering of his teeth became worse, now that he was out in the wind.

"No one will hurt you." The Elf took off his cloak and wrapped him up. "We won't let them. How do you feel?"

"I'm r-really really t-tired." He said quietly, and began to cry.

"Shhh… I know, Adanneth, I know. I am going to pick you up and carry you, all right?"

Still holding the boy, Turamarth used his Elven grace to stand smoothly and they carried him quickly through the streets. By the time they reached the door of their first-floor apartment, the shivering had stopped, and Bowen's eyes were closed. His face was very pale, and his lips had taken on a bluish color.

"He is in deep shock; get that door open!"

Daeron quickly unlocked it, and lit the lamp, and got the fire going, as Turamarth got him out of his wet clothes and wrapped him in a blankets. He carried the boy close to the hearth to try to warm him.

Daeron went into the kitchen and came back with the small clay pot of honey, and rubbed some of it onto the boy's gums. "The sugar will help." He opened the blanket and checked the Bowen's hands and feet. "Icy. Hold him still."

The Elf put his hands on the boy's chest and began to sing softly, until the child's breaths were deep and regular. Then he held each hand and foot until they lost their bluish tinge.

"His heartbeat is steady now, and his lungs sound clear. I will get a hot bath ready –"

There was a knock at the door.

Two privates had come to bring the armor and weapons they had left at the Healing House.

"Thank you. Go to the Castle and tell Lord Bard that we have found the boy, and he will remain here for now." To the other soldier, he ordered, "Give Master Daffyd at the Livery, the same message, and have his Mistress gather some of Bowen's things and bring them here."

"Right away, Lieutenant." They saluted and left.

"That saves me a trip." Daeron said. "Let's get him in the tub – he is covered in mud, and this will get him warm again."

Bowen barely opened his eyes, as they lowered him into the hot water, and within a half-hour, had him clean, bundled in Turamarth's thick, blue robe, and tucked into his bed under a pile of blankets.

"Should we try to get him to drink something?"

Daeron nodded. "We have to. He could get dehydrated." He left, came back with a cup of water, and together, they sat him up and managed to get it down him, before they laid him back down, where he fell into a deep sleep.

"Go get your own bath, Gwador, I will sit with him, until you are done." Daeron offered.

The cousins each took their turn, then Daeron moved another chair into the bedroom, where they sat and talked quietly while the boy slept.

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After the sun had gone down, they heard the boy begin to stir, so they turned up the lamps so as not to frighten him. Bowen opened his eyes, and for a second or two looked curious, but then they could see the memories of the past days wash over him and his and he curled up into a fetal position.

"Where am I?"

"You are in our apartment, Bowen. It is dark now, and you have slept for several hours."

"Does anybody know I'm here?" He asked in a timid voice.

"Yes, hênig. Lord Bard knows, and Anna has sent over some clothes for you."

"I'm not in trouble?"

"You are completely safe, and all is well."

"No, it's not." Bowen stared at him with said eyes, and shook his head. "Everything is wrong." A tear fell out of the side of blue eyes. "Do I have to go home now?"

"No, child. You need rest and quiet, and you will stay here for as long as you need. A lot has happened, and it caught up with you."

"Bad things." His breath caught, and he covered his eyes and began to cry. "Really bad things…"

Turamarth sat beside him against the headboard and gathered the child to him. "I know."

"I r-really, really m-miss my Da…" Bowen sobbed out. "I w-want to see him so bad."

The Elf said nothing, just stroked his hair and rubbed his back.

When at last he calmed down, the boy wiped his eyes. "What about Mad and Owena?"

"Daffyd and Anna are at the Livery with them."

Bowen's voice shook, when he asked, "Is everybody mad at me?"

"Not at all. They know how upset you are, and want you to be well."

"Okay…" He laid his head back down, and closed his eyes. Then a thought occurred to him. "Mam! What did she say! She can't –" His breath became shallow and he panicked.

"Shh… Shh… Bowen, listen to me," Turamarth lifted the boy's chin. "King Bard has ordered that your mother not be told, as it would only upset her."

"W-what did they tell her?"

"Just that you were a little upset, and we were helping you. She knows nothing else. Ermon and Elénaril have put her to sleep by now, so she is in no distress."

"Will I be allowed to go see her?"

"Of course, but not right now, Adanneth. You are to rest, and if you are up to it, I can take you tomorrow."

They were interrupted by Daeron, who walked in, carrying a tray. "You are awake, I see. He set it down on the side table, then checked the boy for signs of fever. "Do you feel pain anywhere?"

"I feel sore." The child's eyes were still teary.

"You were shaking very badly," Turamarth told him.

"I'm really tired." The boy sobbed a little and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of Turamarth's robe.

"I do not doubt it. You are exhausted in every way, child. You may go back to sleep, once you've had some food."

"Why are you so nice to me?"

"Because you deserve it. Now, let us get you sitting up so you can eat and drink. Are you hungry?"

The boy shrugged and said nothing.

"How is your stomach?" Daeron asked.

"It feels weird."

Turamarth helped Bowen sit up against the headboard, and handed him the cup. The boy was so weak, he could hardly hold it, so the Elf helped him drink it down.

"This tea has something in it to settle your stomach."

Daeron set the small plate with sweetbread in his lap. "There is butter and honey on it. Eat as much as you can, but take small bites."

The boy looked down at what he was wearing, with its rolled-up sleeves. "What is this?"

"My robe. You were dangerously cold, so we had to put you in a bath to warm you. As soon as you've eaten, you can get into the sleeping clothes Anna sent over."

"What time is it?" Bowen broke off tiny pieces of bread and nibbled on them.

"The sun went down not too long ago."

A knock was heard on the door.

Daeron rose from his chair. "I will get that."

After the Elf left the room, Bowen searched Tur's eyes. "You don't mind me staying here tonight?"

"Daeron and I have discussed things, and we want you to stay as long as you need to." Turamarth put his arm around the boy's shoulders. "You need some time to rest your body and your mind, until you are strong again.

"How long will that take?"

"As long as it takes." The Elf shrugged. "There is no schedule. We will take you to see your mother, and to see your brother and sister, but then you must let others look after them, so you can get well."

Turamarth looked to his left, as voices could be heard in the living room.

Daeron stuck his head in the doorway. "Bowen, you have a visitor, and I think you should see him."

"Oh, no…" Bowen tensed up and without thinking, grabbed Turamarth's hand, as King Bard entered the room and sat on the bed, facing him.

Bard smiled. "Hello, Bowen. I'm glad you're all right."

The boy looked at Turamarth for reassurance, and the Elf nodded and smiled. "I told you all is well, did I not?"

Still, the boy couldn't meet Bard's eyes, and tears flowed down his cheeks. "I'm sorry…"

"Bowen, you were hurting and upset. I know you didn't mean any of it, and I am not mad at you. I only came to make sure you weren't hurt or sick and that my friends here were making sure you got some rest."

Slowly, he raised his teary eyes to meet the King's, and when Bard smiled at him, he began to cry.

"Oh, son…" Bard moved closer and put his arm around him, and the boy's body heaved with sobs. "I'm so sorry you have to go through this."

"I… I'm s-sorry…" he managed to get out. "I didn't mean it… I didn't…" he couldn't talk by then.

"Shh… You're all right. I know you're sorry. I know... let it out, and you'll feel better."

"I'll n-never f-feel better!" he managed to say. "I miss Da every minute and now Mam is..." he couldn't talk anymore.

Bard looked over the boy's shoulder and met Turamarth's with concern. "I know what it's like to lose parents, and so does Lord Thranduil. We understand."

Finally, when the boy calmed down a little bit, Bard pulled back and smiled. "I wish King Thranduil were here; he'd give you a kerchief to wipe your eyes and blow your nose."

"That's okay," and before anyone could stop him, Bowen used Turamarth's sleeve, to wipe his runny nose.

Bard and Turamarth laughed. "Those big Elf sleeves are pretty handy, aren't they?" Then he became serious. "Daeron tells me you were in bad shape when they brought you here, so I've asked that they keep you for a little while. Daeron has to work at the Castle, but I've arranged for Turamarth to take the next several days off, to be with you."

"But what about Mam? And Brother and Sister?"

"As soon as you're up and around again, Turamarth will take you to see your Mam for a little while, and you can see Maddox and Owena. When you're stronger, we can talk about you going back to the Livery, but not before Daeron says you're ready."

"You want me to stay here?" Bowen looked at the Elf in wonder. "You don't mind?"

"Now, do you believe King Bard is not mad at you?" Turamarth smiled.

Bowen looked back and the king and nodded his head slowly, then became teary again. "I yelled at the Elf King."

"He's not mad either. Don't worry about it. In fact, he made a suggestion that I thought you might like."

"What?"

Bard whistled, and said, "Tulë!"

In walked King Bard's huge dog, who gracefully jumped up on the bed and settled down next the boy and lolled his tongue cheerfully.

Bowen didn't smile, but he stroked the big head. "He can stay with me?"

"Daeron has to bring him back tomorrow morning, but he can stay and keep you company tonight, until you feel settled."

"Thank you… Please tell the Elf King thank you. You're nice too."

"High praise indeed." Bard tousled his hair. "We're going to make sure you're all right."

The boy looked pensively down at his lap, where Thangon had rested his head, and scratched his ears. After a few minutes, he yawned and slumped against Turamarth's side.

"I think we need to let him sleep some more, My Lord."

"I'll leave you to it, then." Bard got up. "Lady Hilda sent over a basket from the kitchens for you all, and sends her best wishes. Have a good sleep."

Bowen barely stayed awake enough to get into his pajamas, before crawling back into bed with his arm around the huge dog.

Turamarth smiled down at the two of them, before settling down in the chair with a book.

.

.

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

Rhaich, Limp! – Curse this rain!

losta-luith - sleeping-spell

Adanneth – Young man

Gwador – My sworn-brother

Tulë! – Come!