Chapter Twenty-Eight
.
.
SUMMARY: It's the anniversary of the destruction of Laketown, and the survivors spend the day in remembrance, where Bowen gets a little support from his friends.
Tilda is thrilled to get a letter from the Galadriel, and tries hard to follow the Lady's advice.
Thranduil has been helping the Harad children receive medical care, but it's taking its toll. And what about the monsters who kidnapped them?
.
.
Love Jo all your days, if you choose, but don't let it spoil you, for it's wicked to throw away so many good gifts because you can't have the one you want."
― Louisa May Alcott, Little Women
.
City of Dale, 31stof October 2942 T.A.
Today, the Marketplace was quiet. No work was done in the corridors behind the Great Hall. All the shops and schools were closed, and there would be no work on the buildings or in the fields, and everyone who were walking through the streets spoke in soft somber tones.
Today was the anniversary of Smaug's attack on Laketown; a day set aside for mourning and remembrance.
At noon, everyone was gathered around the large, polished monument made of granite, bearing a bronze plaque, to commemorate the event, and pay tribute to those lives lost. A gift from the Dwarves, it had been placed near the fountain in the Public Gardens, to honor and remember those who had lost their lives on that horrible, terrifying night.
The crowd contained those Laketown refugees, though their numbers had dwindled even further after the Battle of the Five Armies. In less than one month, more than half the population of Esgaroth had been lost, and today was filled with memories of absent friends.
A raised platform had been set up to seat the extended Royal Family, the members of Dale's Council, King Thranduil, Commander Feren, and the King and Queen Under the Mountain.
Just after the noon bell, Bard stood up, went to the podium, and after ordering a Moment of Silence, offered a short prayer, asking the Valar to help those who had perished find peace and beauty beyond this world. He thanked Eru for giving the survivors the strength and determination to continue to build new lives, here in the City of Bells, but never forget those absent from their midst.
Then the King of Dale signaled to Percy, who lifted a horn to his lips and blew a signal to the tallest bell tower in the City, and soon the people in the crowd grew silent, as they heard the slow, deep tones, of the largest bell in the City.
As the bell began to ring, Bard and the children went over to the memorial, and the King took a wreath that Princess Sigrid had been holding and placed it at the foot of the memorial. The Royal family bowed their heads for a moment, then stepped back on the platform, where Bard motioned for the others to step forward and pay their respects. They lined up quietly, and solemnly placed flowers to remember their lost loved ones, and renew their commitment to live and prosper in their memory.
And during all this, the bell tolled, and would continue to do so, throughout the day.
.
At the Feast in the Great Hall after the ceremony, Turamarth and Rúmil stopped to greet Bowen and his family. Maddox, who decided Rúmil was his new hero, chatted eagerly with the Warden.
"How are you today?"Tur asked Bowen.
The boy rolled his shoulders slightly. "I'm okay."
"You did not eat very much. Are you not hungry?"
"The food's good, it's just… I don't feel like eating much." Bowen disapproving gaze swept around the Hall at the lively conversation. "I don't understand why the people are smiling, Tur. They all cried at the park, and now look! It's like they forgot already!"
"Are you sure that is the reason, Mellon nîn?" The Elf asked him thoughtfully.
"What do you mean?"
"Did not King Bard encourage your people to speak of those who died, and to share memories? Perhaps the people around you are telling stories of their loved ones. It is wrong to do this?"
"I don't know." The boy looked confused. "How do you know that's what they're doing? What if they really did forget about them?"
Turamarth stood up. "Come; we will walk around for a while and listen for ourselves."
The boy and the Elf meandered around many of the tables, greeting those they knew, and caught snatches of conversations that proved Tur's theory true: Rodric, the Innkeeper, had his arm around his wife Catrina. She was telling their children stories about their Auntie, who was bossy when they were growing up, so their brothers got back at her by putting a snake in her bed.
They stopped and said hello to Commander Feren and his wife, whose daughters, Alis and Dafina lost both their parents that day. Gruffudd, was telling the little girls the story of when their father asked permission to marry their mother, and how nervous he was, which made them all smile and laugh.
"I remember Gruffudd," Bowen gestured toward the old man. "He was crying so hard at the park, they had to help him find a chair, and now he's laughing!"
"Yes, he is. But I should tell you, that the reason Master Gruffudd was given a chair was because he is missing a leg."
"Oh."
Tur stood up. "Come, let us find a quieter place, and we will talk about this."
Turamarth ushered the boy outside, to a bench underneath a tree by the edge of the Courtyard. "What do you think of that, Bowen? Was Gruffudd wrong to speak of his daughter?"
"Maybe not. I just don't know how to think of Mam and Da without wanting to cry. I wish I was like them in there, but I just can't do it."
"Just because you cry now, does not mean you always will. The wounds are still fresh to you, Bowen."
"But Da died almost a year ago!"
"This is true, but you never faced it, until your mother became ill, and now you keenly feel the loss of both, which I can imagine is very hard. Many children here lost their parents, Bowen. Does it help to know you are not the only one?"
"Not really. All those other kids seem to be doing good, and I'm not."
"That is due to the reasons I just explained. Were these same children as sad as you last winter?"
"Aye. Maybe. I don't know." He nodded. "You've got your Mam and Da—"
"But I do not." A voice said.
They both looked up and as Rúmil approach them. "I am sorry to eavesdrop, Bowen. Might I join you?"
"Sure." The boy nodded, and the other Elf settled himself on the other side of the bench.
"I lost my father when I was a small child, and like yours, was killed by Orcs. My mother was suffering from her grief and it was endangering her life, so my older brother, Haldir had to take her to the Grey Havens, where she sailed across the sea to Valinor."
"Can she come back?"
"No, Bowen. She can never come back. I will not see her until I go there myself. I will not see either one of them, and I miss them very much. Like you, I was cared for by others. Haldir is much older than me, and after my parents were gone, he raised me, with my brother Orophin's help."
"Did you cry?"
"Oh, yes. I was angry, too, for a long time. Can you think why?"
"I know I'm mad a lot. And I'm really mad because Da said in the Sick Tent that I should go talk to the stars and night, and the Valar would send help." The boy's lip quivered. "I did what he said, then Mam got sick and she died, too!" Bowen angrily wiped his tears with the heel of his hand. "He lied!"
"Why do you think he lied?" Rúmil asked him.
"Because Da was supposed to get help, to make Mam get better! He said Ulmo would send help and he didn't!"
"I am sorry about your mother's illness, Bowen. Perhaps it was something the Valar could not control, as much as they wanted to."
"Why wouldn't they? It's mean!"
"Bowen, if the Valar could control such things, there would be no Orcs, and no one would die in a war, because there would be no such thing. No one would become sick or injured and no evil would exist in this world. Sadly, not even Eru Ilúvitar can govern such things."
Rúmil put his arm on the back of the bench and leaned closer to the boy. "What you wish for can only happen in the next life. In the meantime, we all must work and serve the Valar, by helping our people and each other."
"What was I supposed to ask the stars for then?"
"I think your father did send help, Bowen," the Warden answered. "Do you not think it remarkable that Lord Bard and Daeron just happened to be at the park the day Maddox hurt his ankle? Did that not lead them to your home where they discovered the seriousness of your mother's ailment?"
The boy sniffed, and remained silent.
"Maybe your Da asked the Valar to make sure you children were looked after by loving people." Tur put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Just because the Valar cannot control everything, does not mean they are powerless."
Bowen sighed. "I still don't feel like smiling or telling nice stories about Mam and Da. And I tried talking to the sky at night, but I just… can't. Not yet. I hope they're not mad."
"I am sure they understand." Rúmil smiled at the boy.
"Turamarth takes me to this huge tree sometimes. He tells me to talk about it."
"That is good advice."
"Rúmil? How long will it take before I'm better?"
"Who can say, Adanneth? But you , when you least expect it, you will find yourself thinking of some small pleasant thing about your parents, and you will smile. Perhaps it was the memory of your father cutting an apple, or your mother smelling some flowers… You will not always cry. I promise."
.
888888888888888
.
"So, sweetheart…" Ben put his arm around his daughter, as they were pushing Darryn's pram home, after the banquet. "You all right?"
"Aye. To be honest, I only wanted to support you and our friends," Rhian said quietly. "Is it terrible that when I thought of Garth today, I didn't feel a thing?"
"No, sweetheart; it's a good sign. Oh, I think you'll probably still have the occasional nightmare, but it looks to me like you've put most of that behind you. There's nothing left to figure out, is there? You've learned all you can learn, so now, it's time to be happy for the one blessing that came out of it," Ben pointed at the baby who was drifting off to sleep from the motions of the small carriage.
"He is wonderful, isn't he?" Rhian giggled. "Even when he's teething and screaming his head off in the middle of the night…" then she had a thought. "Da, what do I tell him about Garth when he gets older?"
"Good question. Let me ask you, what if Darryn wanted to know if you regretted marrying his Da?"
Rhian took a few minutes to think carefully. "Maybe what Darryn would really be asking, is if I was glad I had him. I'll never lie to my son, Da. I won't do it. But I think what I would say is no matter who I married, I know the Valar would always want me to have the same child. That's all that really matters." She stopped and looked up at Ben. "I think that's the truth."
"Smart as a whip, you are." He kissed his daughter's temple.
"Afternoon, folks!"
They recognized Evan's friendly, but distinctive accent. He walked across the street toward them, dressed in riding clothes and boots, with his gloves in one hand.
"Well now, Evan!" Ben smiled. "What did you think of the goings on today?"
"Very moving. They picked a nice place for the monument." The dark-haired man looked to the bell-tower which was still ringing in the background. "That's a nice touch, too. So many lost… I can't get my head around it..." He shook his head and sighed. "How was the dinner?"
"Didn't you go?"
"Oh, no; it didn't feel right to intrude."
Rhian smiled. "That's sweet of you, but you would've been welcome; honest."
"The food was grand, and most of us never had the chance for a funeral after the fires, you know. It was right to take a day, and give them a proper farewell, and think on them."
"I'm glad." Evan looked at Rhian with concern. "Are you all right?"
"We were just talking about that." The girl smiled. "I'm really fine. I've got my son," she pointed to the pram, "so I've got nothing to mourn, do I?"
"Good." He smiled. "So, Ben! You've got a day off! What are your plans?"
"Not a bloody thing! I'm going to relax, enjoy my house and my family, and that's it. If you're free, why don't you join us? I've got a new Stratagem board, and Rhian's been wiping the floor with me - she's that clever. It's giving me a complex, I tell you."
"Oh, Da," she smacked him on the chest. "Stop that. You've won, sometimes."
"Only because you let me, sweetheart." Ben grinned. "Don't think I've not noticed."
"This is your family time…"
"Rhian!" Hannah had spotted them on her walk home from the Great Hall and crossed to meet the small group. "Hey Ben, Evan." She greeted the men, then asked Rhian carefully. "How are you doing?"
"I'm good Hannah, honest. Hey! Do you have plans? I've got a roast we could put in the oven for dinner later, and Evan's coming over and we could all have a nice visit."
Hannah thought for a moment. "Why not? I was planning on going home and staring at the dust and the mending. It's not right to do those things today."
"No, it's not." Ben grinned at the woman. "This is a day to spend with good friends and family, and you're both to us."
"I've got some pies at home. Let me go get them, and I'll be back."
"Pie?" Evan looked wistful. "You've got pie?"
"Aye. Apple and cherry," Hannah grabbed his arm, "so don't just stand there drooling, come on and help me carry them!"
"See you in a few!" Evan waved, and they were off.
As the little family reached their house, father and daughter were lost in their own thoughts.
Ben was speculating about the growing friendship between Rhian and Evan, and…
…Rhian was speculating about the growing friendship between her Da and Hannah.
.
888888888888888
.
City of Dale, 4thof November 2942 T.A.
"Ha! Ha ha. HA!"
This evening the Royal Family were sitting on the couches in the Lounge relaxing after a hard day's work. Rhian and Darryn were visiting that evening, and while he was crawling on the rug with his blankie and stuffed toys, she was sitting with Hilda learning how to make socks.
"See? The pattern is really the same, whether you make them for your Da, or Darryn, love. Once you figure out how many stitches will go around their feet, you set half of them aside to turn the heel…"
"Oh; that's so easy!"
"Of course, it is, it just looks hard." Hilda told her.
"Ha! HA! HA!" the voice could be heard from the Corridor again.
Bard looked up from his book. "What is Tilda doing out there?"
"Don't ask me," Sigrid shrugged, as she sat on the floor and played with the baby. "She's been acting strange for the last couple of days."
"So, what else is new?" Bain rolled his eyes.
"Be nice, you," Hilda gave the boy a look.
"It's true, Auntie Hil! She's been walking around smiling, all the bloody time!And I don't mean a smile-smile, I mean these bizarre, teethy grins! She tries to talk like that, and I can't understand what she's saying! Didn't you notice it at mealtimes? She hardly keeps her food in her mouth because she's trying to smile while she's chewing!"
"It is a bit creepy," Sigrid admitted, with a giggle. "Can you talk to her, Da?"
Bard put his book down and went to the doorway, crossed his arms, and observed his youngest daughter for several minutes, as Tilda paced up and down the corridor in deep concentration, with a grin plastered across her face. Occasionally, she'd stop and throw her head back and a laugh would escape her.
"HA! Ha ha ha!"
"Hey, Beanie…" Bard tilted his head and crossed his arms.
Tilda lowered her head and turned to face him. "Hi, Da."
"Um… Can you tell me what you're doing here? What's all this?"
"I'm making my heart cheerful." She said, showing all her teeth, which proved Sigrid right: it did look disturbing.
He went over to her and looked down at her with his hands on his hips. "Is there a reason for all this?"
"If I'm happy, I'll get better, and if I'm REALLY happy, I'll get better faster!"
Bard's mouth twitched. "Did your teacher tell you this?"
"No."
"Who did, Little Bean?"
"The Lady told me."
"Lady who?"
"Gallerdil."
Bard thought for a second. "Galadriel?"
This time Tilda's smile was genuine, as she nodded.
"Does this have anything to do with that 'secret letter' you sent her?"
"Uh huh! I'm doing what she says so I can get better. Then I won't have to take naps all the time, and I can run around and not get tired."
"I didn't know the Lady wrote you back."
"Uncle Percy gave it to me when the mail came. Here; I'll show you!"
She took him by the hand and dragged him into her room. After he was seated on the bed, she opened the top drawer of her dresser and took out an envelope bearing the Lady's Seal in golden wax. "Here, see?"
Bard looked down at the flowing script of the Lady of Light, and read the passage that Tilda was pointing to:
"'I would like to help you with your request, my dear, but I am afraid I cannot. I am told your Healer is very skilled, and you must trust her to know what is best for you.
In the meantime, enjoy your family, and friends, and remember: laughter and a cheerful heart can do much to heal the body.'"
"See, Da?"
"Hmmmm…" Bard handed the letter back to her. "What exactly did you write in your letter, Tilda?"
The little girl had the grace to look sheepish. "Well, I thought, if she could tell Daeron, and Daeron could tell you and Ada…"
"What made you think she could do that?" He put his arm around her.
"Because Ada says she is really smart and really powerful, Da! I heard him say she's even more powerfuller than he is! So…"
Bard sighed. "I see. But she can't make Daeron know if you are better enough to make your heart stronger, Beanie."
"No, but don't you get it? She said, right there," she pointed to her letter, "if I get happy and laugh a lot, it will fix me! She's really really old, and she knows things."
The King of Dale bit his lip. "I think, love, she meant it would help, not cure you."
"You just don't understand," Tilda gave a melodramatic sigh. "Teacher says she is the Princess of all Elves. Her Da is a really important King in Vandilor, so she knows stuff."
"Valinor," he corrected.
"Uh huh. Nobody in the whole world is more powerfuller than her, right? So, she—"
"Darling," Bard gathered her into his lap. "I know the Lady is powerful, and I'm sure if she could help, she honestly—"
Tilda's face was full of such hope and confidence; how could he burst her bubble?
"You know what? Maybe there's something to what she says." He kissed her forehead. "What I doknow for sure, is plastering a huge grin on your face all the time, doesn't mean you're happy in here," he pointed to her heart. "I think you're working in the opposite direction, love."
Tilda considered his words. "So… for it to work, I have to bring it out of me, not put it in?"
"Something like that."
"But how do you know for sure?"
"Well, let me ask you this: do you feel happier?"
"I guess," she said, then reached up to begin to rub her cheeks. "But maybe not a lot, because my face hurts."
"There's your answer." Bard shrugged. "It's hard to feel happy when you're in pain, isn't it?"
She nodded. "Well, how do I do it, then?"
"Tilda, do you remember what you and Ada talked about when we rode to Erebor last summer? He told you to find things to be grateful for every day, didn't he?"
"I had to say three things that made me happy, and I remembered six."
"I think that's what Lady Galadriel might be talking about. When you feel happier inside, your body works better."
"Like when we brought all the kids from the Children's Tent toys to play with?"
"You remember that?"
"Uh huh. Ada gave me the job to listen, because if they were happy, they wouldn't get sick." Her face brightened. "So, can I –"
"It does not mean we should give you more toys." Bard chuckled. "Nice try, though. Do you understand what Galadriel means, now?"
"I think so. But I still want to try, okay?"
"That's fine. Just stop grinning while you talk, and especially when we're eating dinner. Your brother and sister can't deal with it."
"All right."
Just then they heard Sigrid's frantic voice, call from the Lounge. "DA! Tilda! Come here, quick!"
Oh, shit… Bard grabbed Tilda and carried her down the hall.
"What happened?" he asked. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing! Look!" She pointed to the middle of the room, where Rhian was sitting on the floor with her arms out…
…and little Darryn, with his fists waving in the air, and grinning from ear to ear, was taking his first steps toward his Mam, and looking pleased with himself.
.
That night, when a weary Thranduil crawled into bed, Bard opened his arms. "Come here, love."
The Elf let himself be gathered to his Bowman. "It feels so good to be held by you, Meleth nîn." He melted into the warmth for a minute or two. "Bard? I know we say, 'no Kinging' in here, but… all this weighs on my heart, and I do not want the children to hear..."
"I hereby decree an exception, just for tonight: Talk away, if it makes you feel better. How did things go today?"
Thranduil sighed. "I am sorry to say that Elénaril's predictions about the pregnant maids inflicted with disease proved correct. She had been checking them every day, and the life signs had been getting weaker, one was lost two days ago and the other today."
"They miscarried?"
"Yes, Ermon put them under a losta-luith, so they would feel no pain, and repaired what damage he could."
"That's good, right?"
"It is. But... it is so difficult."
"You're making a difference in their lives, love. You need to remember that. How are the kids getting along with the Elves?"
"Very well. The children understand that we are incapable of the kinds of behavior that hurt them, so they are relaxing."
"I'm glad Indis could come," Bard kissed Thranduil's head. Turamarth is thrilled to have his mom in town, though I'm kind of surprised his father doesn't have a problem with it."
"Why would he? He is military, and understands that separations are sometimes necessary. She has served the Woodland Realm for many years as a Counselor, and she must go where she is needed. Her job is very important."
"You're right; I should know better."
"It was Mírelen who noticed her gifts and convinced me that some Healers are not meant to treat a physical body, and that fëas sometimes need treatment. She has helped many of our people who came back from the War, or suffered at the hands of the spiders, or struggle with the darkness of our forest."
"I think I'll try to find someone like that for Dale." Bard then wondered. "Will Hannah be helping Indis?"
"In a limited capacity. Hannah's priority are her patients here, and many are pregnant. Rhian continues on the sidelines, but she is trying to be gentle with herself. The children feel more comfortable with the Elves, anyway."
"What about Adila? Will she run the orphanage?"
"No. She is not trained for such intense emotional work, and to ask it of her would be inappropriate. Indis will be in charge, and Adila will interpret for the children, and consult with the staff on cultures and traditions in Harad."
"Are they that different from us?" Bard asked.
"The Haradhrim value many of the same things we do, Bard: family, work, art, and devotion to the Valar, only they have different names for them, like the Dwarves do. The Haradhrim are a highly patriarchal society, and the roles of men and women are much more rigid and defined in their society. I have not asked Adila what their King might think of our own marriage, or if it might cause problems."
"Why not?"
"King Abdullon's approval or disapproval means nothing to me, except in light of seeing these children returned safely. I am given to understand that they take the protection of their women and children seriously. Only the extremists of their faith become abusive and oppressive, she assures me."
Bard rolled his eyes in disgust. "That's true everywhere, isn't it? Zealots are the bane of our existence… I don't care what the religion is, none of that shit goes on in my Kingdom," Bard said, then yawned. "I'm sorry, love, it's been a long day."
"For me as well."
"Enough sad talk. You need to smile, and I've got just the thing. Two things, actually."
"Such as?"
"First thing is, Rhian brought Darryn over, and he took his first steps. He's not a baby anymore."
"That is good news. What is the second thing?"
"Are you aware that your daughter sent a note to Galadriel? And that she wrote back?"
"What? When did she do this?"
"She asked me to put it in with my letter, and told me it was a secret. But you've got to hear what she's been up to, love…"
As Thranduil relaxed against his husband, Bard shared his earlier conversation with Tilda, making them both laugh.
"That is funny," the Elf snickered.
"Well, just humor her when you see her grinning like a lunatic. She's pretty determined to make it work."
Once Thranduil finished laughing, he heaved a few deep sighs, sank into the warmth of his Bowman a little more, and enjoyed the first restful sleep he'd had in days.
.
888888888888888
.
City of Landorian (78 miles Southwest of Dorwinian), 18thof November 2942 T.A.
The Boss sat back in on his couch with a grin, surrounded by three beautiful women whose sole purpose for existing was to pamper, pet him, hang on his every word, to convince him he was omnipotent, invincible.
They were good in the sack, by themselves, or all three together, or if he felt like watching, they would do that too. He didn't know anything about them, or even their names, and he didn't care. It was business. Theywere business, a commodity that could easily be replenished and replaced, if necessary. All he had to do was send a message, along with a little gold, to one of his traders in the Southeast of Rhún, and wagons of his product would be taken to his many 'warehouses' located as far south as Gondor.
In the last few years, he began dealing in the young ones, and it was making him richer than he had ever dreamed. Customers would pay double, even triple for a couple of hours with them. Workers who were not cooperative, or even resisted in any way, were made an example of to the others, to keep them in line. It was the only way to do good business, wasn't it? Discipline was needed to keep his large operation running smoothly, not to mention the greased palms of some well-placed politicians.
Of course, he needed to keep a tight rein on his investments, so he made sure that not only his staff was well-paid, but the spies he sent to keep an eye on them even better-paid.
"Boss?"
It was Harry, one of the trusted employees and head of his Security.
"Yes, what is it?"
"Three of the men from the Iron Hills business showed up at the front door. Say they need to speak to you, sir."
The Boss sighed, snapped his fingers and motioned for the girls to leave. "Bring them in."
He stood up and walked across the large room to take his seat in the high-backed chair behind the desk.
In a few minutes, three thin, bedraggled men, were brought before him. Iron Hills… That was Attar's business, wasn't it? Where in Mordor was he?
"Thank you for seeing us, sir! Thank you!" one of them groveled.
"Who the fuck are you? And where is Attar?"
"He's dead, sir. I'm Trip, this is Dragan, and the other one is Darryl. We worked at the Pleasure house in the Duston, Southwest of the Iron Mountains –"
I know where you're from." The Boss scowled. "You think I don't know that?"
"Oh, no! No sir! It's just that we don't control Duston anymore, sir. They drove us out and shut down the Houses…"
"Who are 'they?' What the fuck happened?"
"These Dwarves came through the town, you see, a whole bunch of them. Which is fine, I guess they do that a lot, and they left after a night, so we'd thought we'd seen the last of them. Then a week later, a swarm of 'em came barreling into town and killed most of us, though we got away…"
"Where is my product, Trip? Where are they?"
That's just it, sir," the man looked at the floor, sheepishly. "I don't know. They chased us off after we…"
"We were surrounded, and they already killed Attar all his men except us…"
"What did you tell them?" The Boss demanded.
"Nothing! I swear! Nothing!"
"I will ask again, what happened to my product?"
All three men were silent for a moment, until Darryl spoke up reluctantly. "I think I saw them loaded onto the Dwarf's wagons, sir."
"So… These Dwarves stole my property, and you let them?"
"We had no weapons, and it was only three of us against fifty of them, sir!"
The Boss rose from his chair and pounded his hands on the desk. "What I would have done was to burn down those fucking houses and destroy the evidence! Those kids can't talk if their dead, you stupid arseholes!"
Two of the men fell to their knees and begged for mercy, and the other froze in terror, and a dark stain began to show in the front of his leggings.
"Please… Please… We didn't know where else to go…"
The Boss stood up straight and studied them. "Get up."
His men came forward and forced the two to stand.
"Get their hats off."
The hats were removed, to reveal wounds where most of their left ears had been.
The Boss sighed. "Now off with your gloves."
All three wore brands on the back of their right hands.
The Boss sighed and walked around his desk, and came close. He met Harry's gaze and have a slight nod to his head, and his men stepped forward.
"Tell me: what made you think to come here?"
"Attar, sir! He always said, if anything happened, and we needed help, we were to come straight to you."
"He said that?"
"He did, sir. Honest! He said you'd look after us!"
The Boss tsked several times. "Ah, now, I wish you hadn't said that." He sighed and shook his head. "You almosthad me feeling sorry for you, didn't you?" He shrugged casually. "You see, I know your lying." He smiled and spread his hands in a friendly gesture. "Attar would never tell you something like that, because he knows that it would lead the authorities straight to me. He knew I'd kill him and his family." He tilted his head at Trip. "And with those lopped off ears, you attracted all kinds of attention… You three stick out like sore thumbs, so… I can't have you seen, can I?"
"But –"
Trip never had a chance to finish his sentence, because at a nod from The Boss, his men came up behind them and snapped their necks.
"Get rid of this mess," he ordered. "And find out what happened to my property!"
.
888888888888888
.
From the Kings of the North to the King of Harad:
Greetings to His Illustrious Majesty, King Abdullon IV, Ruler of Harad and Khand:
We humbly beg your indulgence to allow us to bring what I hope will be good news to you and some of your people.
Two weeks past, a group of children were rescued from Duston, a village near the Iron Hills, who tell us they were kidnapped from their homes in Tahir, some fifty miles Southeast of the Sea of Rhún.
We have dispensed with their captors and the children have brought here to the Northern Kingdoms, where they are receiving the finest medical care available. These children, twenty-seven in all, are now living in a safe place in our Capitol City and are officially under the protection the three Kings of the North, until they can be returned to you.
The box our messengers have brought you, contains as much information we could gather from each child, and of the other children who were kidnapped at the same time, but did not survive.
Adila, daughter of Nilo, is one of the citizens of our City and has been eager to be of assistance and has told us much about your beautiful country. She has been kind enough to translate the information we sent as well as this letter, into Haradish script to aid the efforts to help reunite you with these children.
It is our sad duty to give you further news: It seems the village of Duston was only part of a larger network of slave trading, and all the Kings of the North and their Allies have committed to seeking out such establishments and destroying those who would commit such heinous acts, especially against children. We believe in the rights of all Free Peoples of Middle Earth and will make every effort to prevent such exploitation.
As a gesture of goodwill, and to expedite communications over such a long distance, please allow us to offer two Ravens, two falcons and four pigeons. All have been trained by the Elves of the North to carry messages between your land and Dale, the Capitol City of the North. We have also enclosed in correspondence several sheets of light, thin paper, for that purpose, and we eagerly await your response.
May the Valar protect us all, and help our efforts to obtain justice for these children.
With our very highest regards,
Bard, son of Brand, King of Dale,
Dáin II Ironfoot, King Under the Mountain,
Thranduil Oropherion, King of the Woodland Ream
.
.
ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
Adanneth – Young man
Mellon nîn – My Friend
.
.