Chapter Twenty-Four
SUMMARY: Ben urges Rhian to consider her possibilities. Thranduil shows Bard something he received in the post, and Letters from the Golden Wood arrive!
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"The scariest thing about distance is you don't know if they'll miss you or forget about you."
-Nicholas Sparks
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City of Dale, 30th of September, 2942 T.A.
"Here you are, love," Hilda handed Rhian a plate with a piece of Tilda's birthday cake. "My lands, Darryn is getting big!"
"Thank you," she put it down in front of her, then fed a small piece to Darryn. "Now that he's crawling, he hardly stays in one place. Thank the stars Da bought him a playpen, so I cook without him underfoot!" She smiled fondly at her son and kiss his forehead. "Not too much for you, young lad; or you'll be up at night."
"Mmmm…" Darryn said, as grabbed the spoon to keep it in his mouth.
"Oh, come on; can't he have a little more?" A friendly voice implored her from behind. It was Evan, Lord Alun's assistant. The man's bright blue eyes were friendly, and his thick dark hair was tamed into subtle waves. Evan was a taller than average, and his smooth movements gave hint of the muscular body beneath his light tunic and brown leggings.
"Good evening, Lady Rhian," he smiled, flashing straight white teeth. "Is this seat taken?"
"Not at all," she waved her hand to the space opposite her.. "Help yourself, and please, just call me Rhian. I didn't earn it the title, except to be adopted by Da."
Evan took his seat and reached over to tickle Darryn under the chin.
"Adopted?" Evan's eyes widened slightly. "You seem like father and daughter so naturally."
"Oh, he's actually my mother's cousin, but he and his wife were always good to me. After Mam died, he and his wife Cristyn looked out for me, as much as my own father would allow." She lifted her shoulder in a slight shrug. "Last winter, he wrote to ask if he could adopt me, and the King was kind enough to grant our request."
"Well, in my humble opinion I think it's wonderful. I haven't known Ben that long, but he adores you and that baby." Darryn's eyes had been watching the man with fascination, and reached out to be held. "May I?" He asked.
"Sure," Rhian handed him over. Evan took him and tucked him against his chest with natural ease. "I see you're used to babies."
"I've got lots of nieces and nephews, and I've always enjoyed being an Uncle."
"How big is your family?"
"Just two older sisters. I was a 'late surprise' to my parents, so my sisters raised me just as much as my mother and father." He grinned. "I have seven nieces and nephews; a few who are almost as old as I am!"
"Where are your parents?"
Evan's face clouded slightly. "A fever swept through our village during the winter," he said, his tone subdued, "and took them, along with many others." He picked up Darryn's spoon, and changed the subject. "Only cake for you, kid; the frosting will keep you up half the night!" After he took a piece from his own plate, he fed it to the eager little boy.
"I am sorry," Rhian told him. "That must have been awful."
"It was," Evan held Darryn's gaze and kept his tone light. "Papa and Mama were good to us, and I'm grateful for the time I had with them. Wherever they are now, I'm glad they're together."
"They must have loved each other very much," Rhian said softly. What was it like to grow up in a loving family like that?
"Rhian?" Evan broke into her thoughts with a gentle voice. "I was sorry to hear about the loss of your father, and it must have been horrible to lose your husband in the fires. But I am glad you have little one," Evan jostled Darryn in his arms making him squeal with delight, "to help you remember him."
Rhian's face froze, and her spine went rigid. No, she told herself firmly, I will not let memories of Garth ruin my evening. I won't! She took several deep breaths and forced her body to relax, and put her hands in her lap so Evan wouldn't see them shake.
"I'm so sorry," Evan's face fell. "I didn't mean to upset you."
"Oh, no; you're fine," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "It's just getting to be Darryn's bedtime, and if he's up too late, he gets cranky the next day." She pushed against the table and got to her feet.
"Rhian, please," Evan handed the baby over with a stricken face. "Don't leave because of me. I truly—"
"It's not your fault." She gave him her best smile. "Please; stay and enjoy the party."
"Are you sure?" The man clearly felt terrible, but at the moment, she found she couldn't explain, and didn't think she could, even if he asked outright.
"Evan," she said, "it's not your fault, I promise."
"All right." He nodded, with concern in his eyes, then bowed. "Good evening, My Lady."
She curtsied politely, and after settling Darryn on her hip, and left to go find her Da.
She found Ben sitting with Lord Bard and Commander Feren. Tilda and Alis were snuggled against their fathers, giggling.
"Hi, Rhian!" Tilda beamed. "How do you like my party?"
"I like it," she smiled. "Did you have a good day?"
"Uh huh!" Her little chin bobbed up and down eagerly. "Thank you for making all those nice doll clothes!"
"You're welcome," Rhian said with a smile, then turned to Ben. "Are you about ready, Da?"
"Aye; it's about that time, isn't it?" Ben got up and bowed to Bard. "Good evening, My Lord, and many happy returns, Princess Tilda
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"I should have ordered a carriage," Ben said on their walk home. "It's starting to get chilly at night, and we don't want the little lad to get sick."
"Nonsense, Da." Rhian assured him. "I've got him wrapped up just fine, and our house isn't far. But, Ooh, he's a heavy boy!" she shifted him in her arms, "next time, I'm going to bring his pram."
Ben eyed her with concern. "You look a bit unsettled, sweetheart. Did you have a good time?"
"I'm fine," she gave him a wide smile.
"I saw you talking to Evan, and it seemed like you enjoyed it." Ben stopped and took Darryn from her. "Come on, lad. Settle down for your Grandad, yeah?" he held the baby to his shoulder and started to rub his back. "Crikey! This boy gets bigger every day!" Once Darryn stopped wiggling, Ben asked her, "I know something happened to upset you, love. Tell me; I want to help."
"It's just…" she took Da's arm. "Evan gave his condolences about Garth. Of course, he meant no offense, but he thinks I miss him, and didn't know what to say." She asked. "I don't want to lie, but I don't know how to tell him that my husband's death was the best thing that ever happened to me? It would make me sound cruel!"
"Things like that are bound to happen, sweetheart." Ben said, wrapping his arm around her. I'd be happy to talk with him if you like."
"Would you, Da?" Rhian relaxed into him with relief. "He should know, but I don't want to make him feel bad or feel sorry for me. I've been working hard to get better, but I'm not ready to talk about it with a lot of people."
"Evan's a good lad, and I'm sure he'll understand." Ben hugged her against him, kissed the top of her head and broached another subject. "This brings to mind something I've been thinking about, lately."
"What's that?"
"Well, your year of mourning will be up after the end of October," he said. "What does Hannah say about you stepping out with someone?"
Rhian lifted her head in surprise. "We haven't talked about it at all. I haven't really thought about that."
"You've had a lot on your mind, and we've just set up house here, but I don't expect you to be chained to your life there, should something come along." He said carefully. "I was thinking… Evan seems a nice young man with prospects, sweetheart. Oh, he hasn't got a hardly a cent now, but soon he'll be a man of some means, but..."
"I love my home, Da!" she leaned on him. "I don't want to move!"
"Course you don't!" Ben said quickly. "And I don't want to see you go, but you're a lovely young woman, Rhian. We haven't really talked about it, but I want you to know that if and when you meet someone..."
"Da." She stopped and looked up at him. "I'm not leaving you! Not when I finally have you, and the home of my dreams! Sure, it's not done, but I want to get the top floor finished, and the gardens… I lovethe gardens, Da! I've got it all planned out…"
"And I know you'll do a wonderful job," his smile was proud. "But you are a beautiful young woman, and there are bound to be men interested in you. You're a widow, so it's not expected for suitors to ask my permission, but I'd like to give my consent before any man comes to call on you. You're a woman of title and means now, sweetheart, but more important, you deserve a man who will love you and Darryn as much as I do."
"I'm not ready for that, Da!" she cried. Darryn, who had fallen asleep against his Grandad's shoulder whimpered and stirred.
"The day will come when you will be ready for a man to court you, Rhian." He took her hand and chuckled. "And you've got so many people to look out for you, I feel sorry for those poor lads who come calling."
"That's true." A smile tickled across her lips. "But once you tell him the truth, I doubt Evan will think that way about me."
Ben's brows drew together and his eyes flashed. "Do you mean to say you're 'damaged goods?' Hogwash! Any man who could be that stupid, isn't worth your time."
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After they arrived home, Darryn was quickly put to bed, and her Da went soon after. Rhian wasn't tired, so she snuggled into the chair by the fireplace with her book, but after reading a few pages, she let it fall to her lap and watched the flames as she pondered her Da's words.
She did like Evan well enough. He was a friendly, handsome man with dark hair and piercing green eyes. He was honest, and popular with the folks here, and Lady Hilda looked after him like he was a son, despite Lord Percy's teasing.
Until tonight, she'd never considered where her life might go from here, besides raising Darryn and taking care of Da.
As the image of Evan's face filled her mind, she began to wonder…
Could her life be more?
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After saying good night to last of their guests the heavy doors were closed and barred, and Royal family made their way back to their rooms.
Bard took Tilda's hand as they walked through the Great Hall. "Did you have fun, Little Bean?"
"Uh huh!" she said happily, clutching some of the gifts.
"Me too." He stooped down and kissed her cheek. "How does it feel to be eight?"
"Bigger!" Her blue eyes danced, then softened. "Sorry I woke you up so early, Da."
"Oh, that's all right, love, but now you need to get some rest. You had your bath earlier, so it's straight into your night clothes and under the covers."
"No story?" she pouted.
"A short one. As soon as Ada finishes with the guards, he'll be right in."
After the Kings tucked the birthday girl and her siblings in bed, Thranduil told his Tithen Pen her story, then left with Tauriel went for their evening walk. Just as his Elf looked forward to special time with his daughter, Bard enjoyed this time alone to unwind and throw off the day.
And when his husband entered their bedroom, he also enjoyed how his stomach did a little flip.
"So…" the Bowman put his book away and sat up against his pillows. "Our daughter is a year older."
"I wish you would not put it like that," Thranduil winced.
"It was a nice party," he said.
"I know," the Elf sighed.
"And she had a wonderful time."
"I saw that."
"So come to bed and let me console you," Bard flipped back the covers.
But the Elf made no move to get ready for bed.
Bard studied Thranduil's face. "What is it, love?"
"Bard," the Elvenking straightened his posture slightly, "I received something from the Palace this morning, but I did not want to show it to you until after the party," the Elvenking said softly.
"Bard eyed him warily. "Did something happen?"
"No, everything is fine," Thranduil held up his hand to reassure him, but hesitated a moment. "I did something, and I do not know how you will react, so please keep in mind I have only the best of intentions…"
"You're scaring me," Bard slid out of bed and approached him. "What's going on?"
Thranduil opened a drawer to his dresser and pulled out an envelope. "Back in the winter, when I first brought the paintings of Mírelen from storage and had them rehung, Sigrid had said something to me about missing her mother."
"Of course, she misses her Mam," Bard's shoulders lifted in a confused shrug. "It's natural."
"Of course it is," he agreed, "but Sigrid lamented that she had no pictures of Mattie. It occurred to me that Tilda might like to know what her mother looked like, and I think Bain would like that, as well."
The Elvenking bit his lip. "I hope you do not think me, presumptuous, Meleth nîn. I wrote to Brandir, Lord of Dorwinian, back in January, but received no reply. 2 To be honest, I put it out of my mind…"
"What did you ask him?" Bard sat on the edge of the bed.
"I had asked him to make some inquiries about your wife's family, in hopes that someone might possess a likeness of her."
"Oh…" he rubbed his jaw. "So I guess Lord Brandir got your letter, then?"
"Yes." Thranduil handed him the envelope. "This was his response."
Bard took it, and opened the letter, and began to read:
Greetings Thranduil Oropherion, King of the Greenwood:
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First of all, I want to congratulate you on the occasion of your marriage, and would also like to extend the same to the new King of Dale. I plan to either send an envoy to that city next spring, or come myself, which I would prefer, as I would like to see this place everyone is talking about…
"Brandir did write me," Bard interjected. "I got a letter with his congratulations in February, but he made no mention of this."
"I had asked him not to, as it was to be a surprise." Thranduil explained.
"Ah." Then Bard went on to read the rest of it.
Matilda Bainiel of Dorwinian was a delightful child, and her parents were well thought-of in our land. Bain and I grew up together, and unfortunately, he had no other family left at the time of his death, and his possessions were either sent to Matilda, or lost.
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All was not lost, however. I discovered that Matilda's mother, Beccah had family in Rohan, namely a spinster Aunt who had doted on the child and visited frequently. I took the liberty of sending inquiries on your behalf to King Fengel but received no response, which did not surprise me, I am sad to say…
"Why would he say that?" Bard asked.
Thranduil sighed. "King Fengel is neither popular nor a good king. The Elvenking smirked. "To use your terms, he is an arsehole."
Bard chuckled softly and went back to the page:
"Fortunately, Lady Maud, sister of King Fengel found my request in a stack of paper, several months later, and made inquiries of her own. Matilda's great-aunt had died some years ago, leaving everything to her nephew[3](and brother to Beccah).
His daughter, and Matilda's cousin remembers Lord Bard fondly, as she was present when they first met, and was kind enough to search her father's house and found this in the attic. It seems the Aunt had talent with a paintbrush. Apparently, Matilda was a particular favorite of hers, and did the portrait the year Matilda came of age at eighteen.
It is my sincere hope that this will give her children as much comfort as possible, sad as it is to lose such a beautiful mother.
I am and I remain, My Lord,
Your humble servant,
Brandir III, Lord of Dorwinian
P.S. On behalf of the family, I am authorized to tell you the painting is theirs to keep, and may it bring them joy."
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"So…" Bard murmured, his chest tightening, "You have it, don't you?"
Thranduil's voice was gentle. "I do." reached into the drawer again, and pulled out a large, flat package, wrapped in several layers of soft cloth.
"You mean that's…" he pointed to the package. "She… It's her?"
The Elf nodded, his Grey eyes full of concern. "It's quite good, and I would like to show it to you, but only if you are ready."
Do I want to see it? Bard asked himself, his heart quickening. Eventually he gave his husband a nod. "I want the children to have this, but I can't let them worry about me. It's better if I get used to it now."
"I was hoping you would see it that way," Thranduil placed the package in Bard's hands and slowly unfolded the wrappings.
And there she was.
"Oh…" Bard croaked, and he crumpled against his husband's side. "Oh, gosh…"
Mattie was in an archway, covered in flowers, and smiling at the artist. She was young, but the joy and high hopes she had for her life were captured in those cornflower blue eyes, which perfectly matched her dress.
"She was lovely, Bard." Thranduil put his arm him. "Everything you described and more. When I looked at her face, I saw our Sigrid."
The Bowman lifted his finger and gently traced the lines of Mattie's face. His eyes stung and the colors swam through his tears. Love and loss washed over Bard like a tidal wave, and he opened his mouth to speak, but words wouldn't come.
"What is it, Meleth?" Thranduil whispered, rubbing his arm. "Tell me, if you can."
Bard smiled through his tears. "This. This is my Mattie… It's exactly how I remembered her the day we met, when I heard her sing." His voice broke. "She's wearing the same dress, Thranduil. It's the exact same dress! I'll never forget it… All I could think was how it matched her eyes, and when she looked at me…"
Memories came flooding back to him. She had the same look in her eyes when she stood with him and recited their wedding vows, and when she held Sigrid and Bain just after they were born. It was the same look when she lay beneath him, and whispered loving words to him as he made love to her.
Thranduil held him closer, and kissed his temple. "Are you all right?"
Bard nodded, as he leaned into his husband's embrace, and tried to get his breathing under control. "I'm sorry. It's just that..."
"Do not be sorry, Meleth nîn. Remember, it was you who comforted me the night I received my necklace from Dáin."[4]The Elvenking smiled. "And as I recall, you who said that sometimes we would miss our wives, but it had nothing to do with how we feel about each other."
Bard rested his head on Thranduil's shoulder and sniffed. "I did say that, didn't I? It's true, you know."
"So, you are not angry?"
"Oh no." Bard quickly wiped his eyes, though his hands were trembling a little. "No, love… This is wonderful, really. It's just… it's been long time, and I wasn't expecting it." He wiped his eyes, and tried to explain in a husky voice. "The last time I kissed my wife, she was still and pale and cold. I had forgotten how…alive and vibrant she was…"
Bard's last words came out as a sob, and speech was impossible after that. But Thranduil surrounded him with his warmth, kissed his temple and ran his hand up and down his back, until the Bowman could settle himself.
"Sorry about that," he said, as he took Thranduil's handkerchief and wiped his face.
"Do not be, Meleth nîn; you love with your whole heart, and it's one of the things I cherish about you." The Elf searched his face carefully. "Are you upset with me?"
"No," he shook his head. "It's a beautiful idea. What do you plan to do?"
"I want to make copies and present them at Yule, though I think Sigrid should have the original. Would that be all right with you?"
"It's better than all right," Bard set the painting behind him and pulled his husband into a tight embrace. His throat tightened once more, and he buried his face into the Elf's neck. "I fell in love with Mattie with my whole heart. And then," he lifted his head and smiled, "I did it again, with you. How lucky am I?"
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LETTERS FROM THE GOLDEN WOOD
To Thranduil from Daeron:
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Suilaid, Aran nîn,
I hope this letter finds you and your family well, and that Lady Tilda continues to improve. I am sure Elénaril is taking good care of her, though I would still caution you to make sure she gets the proper rest, with no strain on her heart.
I am happy to report we arrived here safely and without incident.
Since our arrival, we have been working with Haldir, Orophin and the rest of the Wardens, doing drills, sparring and spending hours at the archery range. Not only does the Marchwarden want to test the mettle of your Elves from the Woodland Realm, he wants them to work intensely with his own troops, so we can learn to know each other's moves and to help us depend upon each other. Trust is growing between the Guardians and the Galadhrim, and Lord Celeborn is pleased. I am pleased with the performance of our Guardians, My Lord, but I am not surprised. Commander Feren chose them well, Aran nîn; and this group is not only talented, but adaptable, and they are a credit to our Realm.
Most of the Guardians will be leaving for the fences soon, however I will be spending a great deal of my time with the Healers, as they peruse my notes. Most of them are very open to this, and have many questions.
On a personal note, My Lord, I want to thank you for giving me this opportunity. Here in the Golden Wood, I find a lightness in my heart, as if many of my sorrows are had been left outside the gates. I do not fully understand this, yet I welcome it.
It is my earnest hope that I can represent our country in a positive sense, Aran nîn, and I will do my best not to disappoint you.
I remain, as always, your humble servant, Aran nîn.
Lieutenant, Daeron Adamarion
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To Ermon and Elénaril from Daeron:
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Suil, my esteemed colleagues and friends:
I wanted to write and tell you of my dealings with the Healers of Lothlórien, but first, I must pass along good wishes from Master Healer Gilfanon, who remembers you fondly from your visits accompanying King Oropher as well as King Thranduil. He did not hear of your marriage to Elénaril, but was pleased that you joined with someone of the same calling. I believe his exact words were, "I often thought he would be happier with a good wife by his side." Naturally, I extolled your wife's praises, personally and professionally and as a good friend!
I brought several of my journals with me, and the Healers here found the subject of delivering human babies fascinating, as well as treatment for the many diseases I had encountered in my years there.
They, of course, have the same books we have (written by Lord Elrond), but they have paid me the kindest compliment of telling that my notes and logs make a fine addition to these texts.
I hope you are both well, and please give my kindest regards to my many friends in the Healing House of Dale.
Regards,
Daeron
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To Turamarth from Daeron:
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Dearest cousin:
It has been almost a month since we arrived, and we have settled in nicely. Our journey took roughly seven days, and it was free of problems, to our great relief. I found our escort to be friendly and full of information for those who did not know the history of some of the places we passed on the way.
When we arrived, of course we were taken before the Lord and the Lady, and all the rumors of her beauty and powerful presence were true. I had never met someone who had been nurtured under the light of the Two Trees, whose strength is that of the Ancient World!
To say we are living in the trees does not begin to describe these immense Mallorn that make up much of this land! At night, Caras Galadhon is lit up with silver lamps as if we were living among the stars, and the singing starts. I so wish you could see this wonder for yourself, someday, Gwador. It will leave you breathless.
Our Guardians have received a warm and enthusiastic welcome, and I can also tell you with some humor that many members of the opposite sex find our accent and our mannerisms "charming," is how one Elleth put is, as she asked me to dance at our Welcome Feast we had here. I am picturing you laughing as you read this, Tur, but these light-hearted Elves do like toflirt! They live in contentment among these trees, and it makes me yearn for the day our own forest will sing.
Oh, Gwador, the songs from the trees here are like nothing I have ever heard, but as lovely as it is, I mourn the silence of our sleeping forest, and pray even more earnestly for the day we can wake them up again and hear them sing once more. I pray that you and I can be there to see it, Turamarth.
I have become friends with a member of our escort, whose name is Airen, though I have not seen much of her - she has spent most of my time here at the borders. The Wardens work on a twenty-day on, ten-day off schedule, which works well, as it takes so much time to reach the fences and to return. This is not much different than our own tours as Guardians, though our tours were usually longer for the same reason.
I am staying with Orophin and Marchwarden Haldir, and as I am sure Rúmil has told you, Orophin is lively, and likes to laugh. Haldir is not a bad sort at all, though he is more pensive than his brother. I suspect Orophin has made it his duty to lighten the Marchwarden's moods with his smiles and jokes. He reminds me of you, Gwador, and I see the respect and love in just about everything Orophin does for his brother. I am touched to see this, at it makes me miss your constant presence.
I assume you are enjoying your time with Rúmil, as he is reputed to be neat and orderly. It makes me laugh to think picture the two of you in our apartment. What is it like to not constantly be picking up after someone?
Haldir and I get along well, and usually spend our evenings on the balcony of our Talan sharing stories of our adventures. The Marchwarden is a great deal older than his brothers, and has raised Rúmil since he was a child, as I am sure he has already told you. He has traveled much more than I have, as head of the Escort for our Lord and Lady. He has regaled me with descriptions of Imladris and Mithlond, where Círdan is Lord of the Havens, to Gondor and even Rohan, though there are almost no relations between those lands and Lothlórien.
I would love to see all those places one day, would you not?
I have not worked at the fences yet, though the rest of our Elves will leave next week. Most of my time is with the Healers, speaking to them of my experience and answering questions.
I will tell you (confidentially) that there is one Healer named Penlod, who is very much against our presence here, and does not agree with the idea of better relations and service to the outside world. Of course, he will do as he is ordered, but he makes no effort to hide his displeasure. I am resolved to give him a wide berth, and continue to serve my King as requested.
Tell me: how does the young boy Bowen and his family fare? I have thought of him frequently, and I still think you need to watch him carefully, as the type of melancholy he is suffering from does not go away in a short time.
I now understand how Commander Feren suffers from such frequent separations from his family, especially since he and 'Lindë adopted the girls. Darryn is a part of me in a way I cannot explain, and if you see him, please hold him and tell him how much I long to see him. Of his mother… I try not to think of her. Not because I feel any less, but because I need to pull away, so I can function here. I think you understand.
I hope to hear from you soon, Gwador, as I am anxious to hear about you, all the news from home.
Daeron
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To Rhian from Daeron:
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Dear Rhian and Darryn,
Greetings from the land of the Golden Wood! I wish there were words enough to describe Lothlórien to you. Perhaps Lord Thranduil would have a book of pictures, that he could show you. He could even draw them, as he has visited here numerous times.
I, and the rest of my unit, are quickly becoming accustomed to the rhythm of life here, and in many ways, it is easier: In Dale, we are frantically busy trying to build a City, and establish a new life. In the Woodland Realm, we are just as busy fighting the spiders, and other foul creatures, as we care for our sleeping forest.
Here, Hind Calen, it is so peaceful, so green, and so quiet. I will admitthattook some getting used to! There are very few children here, and no Men at all, so things seem rather sedate. I am living in a beautiful home which we call a Talan (a "flet" in Westron) with the Marchwarden of Lothlórien, and his brother.
Have you met the members of the Galadhrim, yet? What do you think of them?
I have been fortunate to make the acquaintance of many Elves here, and we are as much a curiosity to them, as I am sure the Wardens are to you all.
As much as I am enjoying myself, I have a mission to accomplish, and I will do it to the best of my ability. I will spend several tours throughout the year doing my duty at the borders of the Realm, then spend the rest of the time, collaborating with the Healers here to familiarize them with the ways of Men.
Lord Celeborn has told me that he plans to invite the Lords from several of the nearby villages to meet with him just outside our Gates, and speak to them about the welfare and safety of their people. It is imperative that these villages remain strong and well-defended, much like Lord Thranduil does with the people of Dale, with the help of the Dwarves.
Not everyone here supports this, of course, but it is my fervent hope that in time, they will be convinced of the wisdom of the Lord and Lady's convictions.
I must know, my dear friend: how is our boy? How is little Darryn? His face is constantly in my thoughts, and I miss him like I miss a piece of my own heart. I miss you as well – shopping for food is not nearly as much fun, without you and the little one to walk with me peruse the shops.
I am sure you have noticed the package I have sent you… Please, find a place in your garden to plant these bulbs, and when they bloom, will you think of your friend who is far away but always near you in his thoughts and prayers.
Look after yourself, Rhian and kiss your beautiful son, for me, and tell him I love him.
My fondest regards,
Daeron
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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
Suilad Thranduil, Aran i Eryndôr Aranarth– Greetings, Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm
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NOTES:
[1] From "What Makes a King," CH 32: /works/10838010/chapters/27221007
[2] From CH 7 of "And Winter Came…" : /works/12026709/chapters/27875265
[3] This was the same uncle to had schemed to marry Mattie off to the Master of Laketown. He also lost two teeth, when Mattie's father punched him in the mouth! "What Makes a King, Ch. 8: /works/10838010/chapters/24724698
[4] "What Makes a King," CH 18: /works/10838010/chapters/25779882
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