Chapter Thirty
SUMMARY: The Galadhrim are officially greeted by the King and Queen of the Lonely Mountain, and the Harad children are anxious to meet their benefactor - the King of Dale! Will Bard live up to the hype?
King Dáin receives a message from his son, and shares his caution with Bard and Thranduil.
It is the one-year anniversary of the Battle of the Five Armies. What is running through everyone's minds as they think back on that day?
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"To want and not to have, sent all up her body a hardness, a hollowness, a strain. And then to want and not to have- to want and want- how that wrung the heart, and wrung it again and again!"
― Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse
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Erebor, 14th of November 2942 T.A.
The party from Dale reached the Great Doors of Erebor, which were opened wide, in anticipation of their arrival. The King and Queen looked like toy soldiers against the dark, cavernous entrance to the Mountain, although to be honest, the King of Dale and his party didn't look that much bigger.
Today, the group was accompanied by the Wardens of Lothlórien, who, for the first time in recorded history, would set foot inside the Lonely Mountain.
"Greetings, King Bard and King Thranduil!" The King and Queen Under the Mountain paid formal courtesy to their visitors, which of course was returned.
Rúmil and Gerion, his Second-in-Command came forward and bowed low before the Royalty of Erebor. After a short speech of appreciation for their hospitality, they presented the King Under the Mountain a letter of greeting from his Lord and Lady.
Gerion bowed and presented them with a long, wooden chest containing an ornate Bow made from the famous wood of Lothlórien, shaped and sized to suit a Dwarven Archer. Dáin seemed to approve of the gift, for he lifted it out of his case and ran his fingers reverently over the wood, noting the Rhunes in both Elvish and Dwarvish.
For the Queen, there was a golden necklace of Mallorn leaves and Elanor, the Star Flower, the official symbols of the Golden Wood. Both gifts were graciously accepted, and after a few formal words, everyone was escorted to their rooms to get settled before the formal ceremony and banquet tonight.
Bard and Thranduil would stay overnight, and lead the escort for the refugees back to Dale in the morning, but the Feren, his senior staff, and the six Wardens would spend ten days in the Mountain, educating themselves on the customs and practices of the Dwarves. There would be several sessions with weapons, as each military group sought to understand and appreciate the fighting styles of their Allies.
To the immense relief of all the Kings (and Queen), most of the planning and organizing for this was left to the capable hands of their Aides. Balin, Hilda and Galion and Rúmil, had been meeting for weeks, to discuss customs and ideas that would best suit everyone.
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Once Bard and Thranduil were settled in their suite, the Elvenking took his husband to meet the Harad children for the first time. Upon entering the room, the children scurried to the center of the room and prostrated themselves on their hands and knees, with their foreheads touching the floor.
Bard had been told to expect this, as it was customary in Harad. He'd also been practicing the correct words to say (although in the end, Adila had to write it out phonetically, and hope for the best): "Lijochini litinesa tichilalehi."
Indis and Adila gathered the children and they sang a popular song from their homeland, as a thank you for giving them a place to live. Adila explained the song was about the many birds, camels,[1] lions,[2] and elephants[3] which roam Harad, and that the Illustrious King Abdullon has many at his beautiful White Palace.
Bard greeted them according to Harad custom: touching his forehead, then lips, then his heart (which is the opposite when one expresses gratitude, Bard was told), and said, "Thank you, children!" Then the King of Dale looked on his small piece of paper, and praying he didn't butcher it, "Āmesiganyi nenyi, which means 'I am grateful,' in my language! Tomorrow, we will bring you to my Kingdom of Dale where we have prepared a special house for you to live in, while we await word from King Abdu –" Bard felt a jab in his side.
"The IllustriousKing Abdullon," Adila whispered, out of the corner of her mouth.
"Oh, sorry – the Illustrious King Abdullon, and I am sure he will be happy and grateful to hear you are well."
"I want you to know that we all are going to make sure you are kept safe, do you understand? You will have Elves taking care of you, and you like Elves, don't you?"
The children smiled and clapped their hands.
"And I want you to make sure you say a proper–" he looked at his paper again, "Oh dear… 'Āmeseginalehu,' which in my language means, 'Thank you,' to all your Dwarf friends who rescued you and took such good care of you, all right?"
All the children turned toward Queen Dilna, Lady Dís and the Dwarves, and lowered their foreheads to the floor, as a sign of respect. "Āmeseginalehu,"their voices sang in unison (It sounded much better coming from them.)
Then Bard was led to a chair set up for him, as the children lined up to be introduced. Then they bowed their heads, so he could place his hands upon their hair to receive his blessing.
Some were shy, some were boisterous, and allwere thrilled to meet their new benefactor! Bard was moved at this, and was also relieved, when he found very little fear in their eyes. They seemed to understand that their darkness was over, and their prayers had been answered in the form of gruff-looking Dwarves, tall, ethereal Elves, and a kind, black-haired King, who, though he wore no crown, had no camels or elephants, was still powerful and would protect them, until they could go home, which was probably in the spring.
"Do not see them as broken children, My Lord," Indis had warned, "lest they themselves begin to believe it. Children have a magical way of bouncing back from the worst horrors, if given the proper support."
"And what is your name?" Bard asked a girl, who looked to be about Bowen's age.
"I am Rania, Your Illust-, I mean, My Lord." She covered her mouth and giggled.
"Ah. That's what you call King Abdullon." he smiled. "'Your Illustrious Majesty' is a mouthful, isn't it?"
"He is a very great King, so I do not mind." Rania's head was full of long, blue-black curls, her face was round and cheery, and when she smiled, her white teeth shone. Like all the children, she was beautiful, and seemed very sweet.
"'My Lord' is a bit easier, don't you think? I'll let you in on a little secret," he leaned closer and winked, "I haven't been a King very long, so I likethings to be easy."
Rania said, touched her heart, her mouth, then and her forehead, Harad for expressing thanks (which Bard struggled to keep straight), and stepped aside for the next child.
When all had received their blessing, it was time for another Haradhrim tradition, so Indis and Adila settled the children on the rugs and waited for the King of Dale to begin his T'ibebi yazele tarīki.
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"A what? I have to do what?" Bard raised his eyebrows at Adila. "What in the world is a 'Tibbebbell…?'"
"A 'T'ibebi yazele tarīki.' A 'Tale of Wisdom,' My Lord," Adila explained patiently. "The children will be expecting it."
"But… why?"
"As their Guardian you are the Rasi - the Leader - of their Gosa, My Lord," Adila explained patiently, "and as the Rasi, it is your sacred duty to impart your vast knowledge upon the children, so they may grow to be as wise as you."
"'Vast knowledge?" Percy snickered and crossed his arms. "Oh, this is gonna be good…"
"Pers," Bard narrowed his eyes, "the Dungeons were finished last week - care to try them out?"
Thranduil just smiled into his knuckles.
"Do not worry, My Lord. It sounds grander than it is. What the children expect, is for you to tell them a Tereti,a story. A parable or fable, if you understand my meaning."
"Oh, is that all? I remember some when my kids were small… Mattie's Da brought this big book from Dorwinian, but it's lost now…" Bard rubbed his chin. "There was 'The Miser,' and 'The Snake and the Eagle…'"
"I believe I have such stories in my library, Bard. We tell our children such tales, as well." Thranduil offered.
"That's great, but we're going to Erebor tomorrow,so I need to learn it today, don't I?"
Adila cleared her throat, "My Lord," she handed him several pieces of paper. "I've taken the liberty of providing this first one. It is a common story, and something familiar may make them feel at home."
"Oh, bless you," Bard took it gratefully. "Are there many Harad words to memorize?" he winced.
"I have written them out, My Lord." Adila smirked. "But you still need to practice your pronunciation."
Bard sighed. "I still get yelled for my Sindarin."
"Do not worry, My Lord," Adila reassured him. "Just read this over, and you will do fine, and I will serve as interpreter. I will also help you with the Haradhish words."
"Er… Thanks. I really appreciate all you've done, really."
"It is my honor, My Lord." The Blacksmith's wife curtsied and left.
"O, My King," Percy bowed with a flourish, "we humbly stand in awe of your immeasurable wisdom. Shine on us poor lowly peasants."
Bard picked up a stack of papers and smacked him on the head.
"Ow!" Percy howled.
"Silence, peasant!" Bard hit him again. "Hold still, while I 'shine my wisdom' upon you."
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Rhian looked up from her desk, at the sounds coming from Bard's study. "What in the world is that noise?"
"Don't ask, love." Hilda advised.
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So now, the King of Dale was understandably nervous; kids can be a tough crowd.
"Are we ready, children?" Bard smiled from his chair. "Here goes…"
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"Once upon a time, a rich man set out for a journey in the desert, with his many camels to carry his tents, all his food and his many water skins. One day, he reached the top of a sand dune and is surprised to see a small, thin tree growing in the sand.
"'Will you not share some of your water with me?' the tree asked.
"The man cursed the young tree, saying, 'I will not! I am traveling and need the water myself.'
"'But I will surely die,' the tree tells him. 'Can you not spare even one drink of water, so that I might live?'
"'No,' he told the tree. 'I cannot help you.' And with that, the rich man turned away and continued his journey, but he became lost was never seen again.
"A second man comes along, this time traveling on foot, with only water skin and a few drops of water. He is parched with thirst, but when he meets the same tree, he is filled with joy, prostrates himself and gives thanks to the Varinēri.
"'Praise be to Yehiyiweti, for even in the desert, she gives life!'
"Before the tree even asks, the second man gives his last drops of water to the tree. 'Though I shall surely die,' he said to the tree, 'I will die in peace, knowing my last act was one of kindness kindness.' And with that, poor man collapsed in the sand and closed his eyes, to await the end.
"As the man slept, that small, barren tree began to grow, and leaves sprouted from its bare branches. It grew to an immense height, and filled out enough to offer shade for many men and their animals, and fruit of all kinds appeared on its branches. On the ground, clean water began to flow, enough to fill a small lake.
"The man awakened from his sleep, and at first he thought he had died and gone to Geneti! He could hardly believe his eyes, when he looked up at the lush, green tree above him, down at the cool, green grass underneath him, and the pool of water ahead of him. He lowered his head and once again gave thanks, and began to eat the fruit and drink the water, until he was well again.
"One day, he left, but only long enough to fetch his bride. When he returned, they built a home under the tree, and had many children, and these children went on to have families of their own.
"The man lived to a ripe old age, and died with peace and gratitude in his heart. The man's descendants continued to prosper and eventually became the Kings of that great land.
"That first man had many possessions: camels, food, and much water, but he saw the tree in the desert as a burden, and turned away from it. Yet, his wealth did not save him in the end, did it?
"The second, wiser man, who possessed almost nothing, saw the tree as a blessing, and gave all he had to save it, and his faith and gratitude gave birth to the land we know as Harad."
"The End!" Bard threw up his hands and smiled. "How was that?"
All the children began to cheer (even those who didn't quite understand Westron), and when Bard looked over at the adults, he saw his husbands wide smile, as he joined in the applause.
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"I'd say today went well," Bard sighed in their guest suite, as he stripped off his clothes and crawled into bed. "Though I think I the children were disappointed at the sight of me."
"Why do you say that?" Thranduil raised his arm and put it around Bard's shoulders, and gathered him close.
"Well, Adila said all they talked about was this 'Great King Bard.' I think they expected me ride in on an Elephant, covered in jewels with a high, glittering crown, and six servants throwing rose petals in my path. Then I walk in - just plain homely old Bard."
"Perhaps they thought you would be taller." Thranduil chuckled.
"Or prettier." Bard yawned. "Too bad they're stuck with my ugly mug- OOOF!"Bard found himself on his back, with his arms pinned above his head. "What?"
"I am glad you are ugly, Meleth nîn." Thranduil peppered his face with kisses. "No one will try to steal you, and carry you off on his elephant."
Bard laughed, "Oh, I don't know. If the elephant is really impressive, I might just run off, anyw- Mmmmmrfff!"
Words weren't possible, after that, because his Elf imprisoned his mouth, before taking possession of the rest of him, which turned out to be a much better offer than riding away on an elephant.
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"Bard?" Thranduil asked him much later.
"Hmmmmm." Bard said, sleepily, resting his head on Thranduil's shoulder.
"Do you know what an elephant looks like?"
"Not a clue, love."
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Early the next morning, there was a knock on the door of the Kings' guest suite. The King Under the Mountain needed to see them right away.
"What's happened?" Bard asked, when they sat down with Dáin and Dilna in his study.
"Got a message from my son, in the Iron Hills, late las' night. I'd show it to ye, but it's no' in Westron. Seems a coupla those arseholes from the group who took those bairns came to the gates o' 'is place lookin' for 'em. Lyin' through their teeth, they were, makin' up some bullshit about lost relations."
"How do you know they weren't sent by King Abdullon?"
"Two things: These men weren' dark; they were pale and pinkish, and no' one of 'em 'ad a Royal Marker." Dáin picked up a piece of paper from his side table. "When I ruled the Iron Hills, the 'arad, always wore this," he handed Bard a sketch. "Tha's the Seal ye need te look for, and nowt else. Keep that."
"What happened to those men?" Thranduil asked.
"Tell me you didn't kill them!" Bard winced. "Not that I'd blame your son, but if we could find out more about their whole operation…"
"Dinna fash, Lads. Thor's got 'em an' they ain't goin' noplace. Soon as we ken somethin', we'll make sure ye ken what's what. Once they're done bein' useful…" he made a slicing motion across his throat. "I'd call it a grand day, if we could shut those sons o' bitches down fer good an' all."
"Could you ask your son to hold off on executing them?"
"Why, Bard?" Thranduil asked him.
"I was thinking…. Maybe the Haradhrim have strong ideas about justice."
Dáin rubbed his beard. "Ah ken if it was mykids, I'd want to do the honors…"
Thranduil was impressed. "It might help relations with their country, if we respect their right for retribution,"
"Exactly. Let me ask Mistress Adila." Bard told him. "Have you heard news of the messengers we sent to King Abdullon?"
It had been two weeks since a small party of Elves accompanied by Gloin and Gimli, left to travel past the Iron Hills and into Harad to see their King. It was estimated that the trip would take over a month each way, and that was only if they encountered no problems.
"Thor sent two 'o 'is lads with 'em, as they'd traveled that way before, and met the King. Should 'elp ease the way."
"And there's no chance those papers will be discovered? In the wrong hands, they would lead them right to us!"
"No' to worry, lad. The Elf and I sealed in a mithril box, and only a spell can open 'em or the hands of the King 'imself."
"That's brilliant. I wonder if we'll see more of those people before spring."
"Keep yer eyes peeled, Lads. I've go' a real bad feelin' aboot this. Those bastards ain't given that shit up withou' a fight, and ye can bet they'll find ou' sooner or later you've got 'em. Mark my words, lads; there'll be big trouble 'afore we're done with this lot."
"We shall be ready," Thranduil promised.
"And we're right wi' ye."
"We will need to meet about this soon, mellon, and decide on a strategy," the Elvenking suggested. "In the meantime, I will make sure they are guarded, and if any of your Dwarves could help, it would be appreciated."
"You got it." Dáin nodded. "If trouble comes, bring em back 'ere and we'll seal them in the Mountain where no one can get at 'em."
"Agreed."
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After lunch, the Dwarves lined up on the walkways of Erebor to wave goodbye to their young guests. Queen Dilna gave them each a gold ring to remember their time in the Lonely Mountain, and Lady Dís gave them gold chains, so they could wear the rings around their necks until they their fingers grew big enough to fit them.
Bofur led a farewell song which echoed throughout the caverns, as the children waved to them and made ready to load into the wagons.
"Thank you, Your Royal Majesties," Bard bowed low to Dáin and Dilna. "My Lady," he bowed again to Dís. "You saved them, and I can only hope to continue your good work."
"Aye, yer welcome, laddie." The King Under the Mountain said. "Tis us who owe the thanks. These tall walkways are nae place fer a bunch o' bairns. Half of 'em be fallin' te their deaths 'afore the year is out."
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The ride to Dale was short but pleasant, as the Kings and their Guards escorted their new charges over the long bridge of the river, then through the North Gate of the City.
The children grew silent, and their eyes grew wide with nervousness, as they saw the people, some of whom had lined up to greet them. Bard expected that; these were Men, and it would take a while for them to trust the residents of Dale.
"Don't worry," Bard called to the wagons, "no one is going to hurt you here; I promise."
When the caravan stopped in front of the Orphanage, the children craned their necks to see everything, as they lined up to for the Elves to help them down.
Bard led them into their temporary home, gave them a short speech (his favorite kind) and, with the smile and a wave, left them to the care of the Elves, to get them settled.
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City of Dale, 23rdof November 2942 T.A.
For the second time in less than a month, the City was quiet, and schools and shops were closed for the day.
Another Memorial Service was taking place, this time at the burial grounds in Hope Field, which was led by the all three Kings. The carefully-planned service honored the thousands who had died on that Field one year ago today.
Bard was giving a speech, of course, but to be honest, few heard his words, as they became lost in their own memories of the horrors, the losses, the bravery, and the triumph of the Battle of the Five Armies:
Ben stood with his arm around Rhian's shoulders, as she held Darryn, looking sober. As much as she had always loved Ben, and was glad he was her Da, Phylip was still her father, though he was cold and unfeeling towards her. Recently, she realized she didn't want to be burdened with anger toward him anymore. She silently wished him well, and hoped that he and Mam could find a way to have some peace where they are now.
Anna and Daffyd stood by Owen's sons, while Powell held baby Owena. Bowen's shoulders shook, as he wept for his Da that he still missed so badly he couldn't sleep sometimes. Anna herself had tears on her face as she did her best comfort the child, and his dog, Beriel leaned against him, nudging and licking his hand. Maddox was also crying, not only for his Da, but his Mam, too, so Daffyd picked him up and spoke comfort to him.
Hannah was with her son and his two small children, as her daughter-on-law wept for both her parents, who bravely charged out of the Great Hall that day, led by Hilda, and gave their last, to protect their people.
Feren and Glélindë were with their two daughters and Grandfather Gruffudd, who wept for his friends, and, if truth be told, his missing leg. Little Dafina, now four, frowned at her Grandad and lifted her skirt to wipe away his tears, too little to realize her petticoat was showing, but her sincere innocence made everyone smile, and brought him comfort.
Ermon stood with his arm around Elénaril protectively, as her hand unconsciously settled on her abdomen, giving thanks for the two new lives growing within her. They both remembered that terrible day, when wave after wave of the injured and dying were brought to the Healing Tent, and it seemed like it would never stop. Neither of them had slept for three full days, as they frantically tried to save as many as they possibly could, knowing even their best efforts would never be enough.
The members of the Original Company stood as a group and wept, Dwalin hardest of all. They had lost their beloved friend and King, and two Princes they had watched grow up since birth. They mourned Thorin, Fili and Kili and all they could have been, had the Gold-Sickness not plagued their King. They wept from guilt and sorrow over all their kinsmen, who had died because they joined the Battle so late.
Tauriel stood with her brothers and sisters at first, but then she burst into tears, remembering her beloved Kili, and how he had saved her life, only to lose his own before her eyes. She wept over losing Legolas' friendship and missed him more than ever. Thranduil heard her sobs, and saw Sigrid try to comfort her, so he quietly stepped over to his daughter, and took her in his arms to soothe her. Then he took her over to the Original Company, where she fell into Dwalin's arms and they held each other and cried some more.
Llewelyn and Seren stood with their two boys, Ethan and Liam. Seren was holding nine-month-old Liliwen, who was born at Thranduil's Palace, and had her father's blue eyes and bright red hair. Llew was weeping over the loss of all four of his brothers and many of his friends on that Battlefield, too. He had one sister left, who stood with him, as she too, wept not only for her brothers, but her husband, too.
Lynne and Mona, who owned the Fabric shop in Dale were there, arm-in-arm. Neither had been born in Laketown, and they had no family to speak of when they were forced to a life of service to two cantankerous sisters, Ina and Iola. King Thranduil and Lord Bard had freed them from what amounted to slavery to the old sisters, and given them hope for a good future for the first time in their lives!
Along the way, Lynne and Mona, had unexpectedly fallen in love, and had been married in a lovely ceremony by the two Kings last August. Lord Alun had felt badly about his mother's and his aunt's treatment, and insisted upon paying for their rings He and his son Rhys, stood for the couple, at their wedding.
In September, they received a letter from Mistress Ina, apologizing for everything. They knew of course, that Iola had killed herself in February, and rumors had spread of the damage the woman had caused. Lynne and Mona had no room in their lives for bitterness anymore, so of course they wrote back and sincerely wished her well.
Rodric and Catrina, the owners of Long Lake tavern, stood with their friends, Tom the Potter (now the Constable) and his wife, along with their three sons, one of whom was also a Constable, while the other two worked the wheels and the kilns, while their Mam ran the store.
Tom's favorite cousin Sior had been killed a year ago today, after losing his wife and children in Laketown. The day of the Battle, Tom knew Sior didn't much care whether he lived or not, and was later told that Sior had jumped in front of a sword that was about to cleave the head of the Basket weaver's youngest son. Tom looked over his wife's head, and saw the Weaver and his boy, in the distance, and couldn't help but feel glad. Tom was a man of deep faith, and knew Sior was where he wanted to be, and that young man has a good life ahead of him, thanks to his cousin's sacrifice.
Bronwyn was fortunate not to have lost anyone close to her at the Battle of the Five Armies, but too many of her students had. Images of all those traumatized children who had gathered in the Children's Tent still haunted her (though bless King Bard and the Elves for giving them a safe space to play!). They had been so thin, and so incredibly sad! Many of the children wept, and just wanted their Mam and Das, who were gone forever. Most of them were beyond tears, and stared blankly at nothing, because reality was just too hard.
And look at all of them, now! They all still mourned of course, but their cheeks were plumper, and many of them had grown several inches in the last year! Life went on, and Bronwyn prayed that each of those kids would learn to go on with it.
Sigrid stood in front of Auntie Hil and Uncle Percy, and held her little sister protectively, much like she had at the Battle.
"Don't look, Til," Sigrid had said, as she huddled with her sister in that alleyway, "Here." She turned her sister around and held her tight. "Face me, Beanie. Cover your ears, and don't look."
"I want my Mam," Tilda had said in a small voice. Then she didn't talk again for over a week.
It's funny the things a person thinks about when the whole world is about to end, isn't it? Sigrid's main thoughts throughout that horrible day was spent wondering why Tilda would think of her Mam. Sigrid has been grateful for the distraction, as she covered Tilda's ears and tried to sing something to drown the screams and the roars and the horrible sounds of swords clashing, and flesh tearing (she never thought that would even make a noise, but she would swear till her dying day, that's what she heard.)
Percy had his arm around Hilda, was remembering what Bard had cried that day: "Anyone who wants to give their last, follow me!"
And they did. Without hesitation, all the Laketown folk followed him to certain death.
No one had anyexpectation of living through it. They only hung on to the slim hope that their loved ones, locked in the Great Hall might make it out alive. Then and now, all believed the sacrifice was worth it.
Percy also remembered seeing his feisty wife appear, viciously swinging a sword (which she picked up from a dead Elf), screaming (and using language she would vehemently deny later) at every Orc she met.
"No one is going to try and kill my family!" he heard her scream at one of them, as she slit his throat, "How dare you! ...sniveling slimy fucking bastards think you can waltz into our City and wipe us out! I'm not going anywhere, and neither are the rest of us, you arseholes! Not without a fight!"
Despite his tears, Percy smiled, and kissed his wife's hair. Thranduil was right, when he called Hilda the "Mother of Dale."
Thranduil had been standing with Dáin, and wasn't doing well at all. He had written meaningful words of encouragement, but now, when he saw all the people out there in the crowd, the memories and guilt of that day came flooding back.
These people, all of them, would be dead,if Tauriel had not kept him from leaving that Battle…
If Legolas had not stopped him from cutting her throat….
If Mithrandir had not confronted him with his twisted idea that claiming his necklace would somehow ease the pain of losing Mírelen…
Anxiety that he thought he was long past, welled up inside him, and he felt like he couldn't breathe… Tears filled his eyes, and he began to panic. It all came flooding back, those faces lying on the ground…. Just like Dagorlad…
"My Lord?" The Elvenking felt Galion squeeze his elbow and whisper. "It is time, Thranduil." The Aide knew, and Thranduil found comfort in that.
Bless his Bowman, too, for when Bard stepped down from the podium, he took Thranduil's hand and squeezed it for a moment, sending him as much love and strength as he could manage.
"Just go on up," he whispered, and squeezed his hand again, "and I'll help you get through it."
He looked over to the right, where his Elven Army stood, and met Feren's eyes. The Commander, gave a sharp order in Sindarin. Immediately, the all his Elves stood at ease and removed their helmets, so Thranduil could see the trust and loyalty in their faces.
Feren remembered that day too, and gave Thranduil an encouraging nod, as if to say, you did not fail us, Mellon nîn.
When he finally was able to speak, everyone forgave him for the emotion in his voice, and many forgave him for more than that, for which Thranduil would be forever grateful. Maybe someday he would be better at forgiving himself.
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Lothlórien, November 24th, 2942 T.A.
Haldir was finished with work for the day, so he walked among the trees on the forest floor, back to the talonhe shared with his second-in-command and brother, Orophin, and the Guardian from Mirkwood.
Woodland Realm, he reminded himself with a wince. Daeron hated it when 'Mirkwood' accidentally slipped out, and the Marchwarden was doing his best to respect that. Rúmil had written of his admiration for these Guardians who never let go the hope that one day their home would be as beautiful and lush and green as the Golden Wood (that Rúmil admitted he had taken for granted).
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Yesterday, just after Orophin had left for the fences with the Guardians, Messengers had arrived from the North and he saw Daeron smile, as he gathered up his post and a package, and head to their talon.
But the Lieutenant had stayed in his rooms the entire evening. When Haldir knocked to tell him supper was ready, Daeron politely said wasn't hungry and that he needed an early night.
He hadn't seen the Guard this morning either; the Elf was gone before he woke up. But Haldir was genuinely becoming concerned, and when he entered his home and saw a light underneath Daeron's door, he decided he needed to get to the bottom of it.
"Daeron?" He called out, as he knocked. "May I talk to you?"
"Come in."
The Guard didn't look up, when the Marchwarden entered the room and sat in one of the chairs.
"Mellon? Are you well?"
"No," The Elf was sitting on his bed, looking out the window. "I am sorry."
Haldir saw the stack of letters on his dresser and his package. "I see you have heard from your friends and family." He looked very concerned. "Did you get some upsetting news?"
"Yes." His voice tightened, and he tried to blow out a shaky breath.
"Mellon nîn, I have known since you arrived that there is a shadow hanging over you. I do not wish to pry, but I must tell you that I am worried." The Marchwarden leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. "I would like to help you, if I can."
Daeron shook his head. "There is no help for something like this."
Haldir got up to sit beside him on the bed, and put his hand on his shoulder. "Would it help to talk about it?"
"I do not know, but I think you deserve to understand." Daeron took several deep breaths. "I loved someone once…" he began, hesitantly at first, then soon he was pouring out the entire story of Sellwen, and how long it took him to get past it.
Haldir listened intently as Daeron told him of meeting Rhian, and how his Fëa reacted, when he touched her wrist. Then he spoke of her dead husband and his abuse of her, and how she and the baby nearly died giving birth. He told the Marchwarden about Darryn's birth and how he realized he was deeply in love with her, but wanted to give her time to overcome her traumas. Then he told Haldir of his meeting with Thranduil, and of the Lady's message.
"And you received a letter from her?"
"Yes. She is spending time with someone else, and she will never return my feelings."
Daeron managed to say all that without tears, while Haldir listened in silence, and nodded his head in encouragement, though Daeron never took his eyes off the floor.
"And you care deeply for Rhian's child?"
"I do. I have never had a son, but he feels…" he put his hand over his heart. "From the moment I first saw him…. I do not understand it…"
"Few can, mellon. When it comes to matters of the heart, what is, is." Haldir said softly. "Have you opened your package?"
"Not yet. I know it is a painting of the boy; Rhian told me King Thranduil had done it."
"Would you like to see it?"
Daeron nodded, and Haldir took it of the dresser and brought it to him. With a deep breath, he undid the fastenings, and unfolded the soft cloth from the frame…
…and there he was. Darryn was smiling up at the artist, with his thick head of dark hair, no longer in tight curls, but now waves framing his face. His eyes were dancing with delight and he had apples in his cheeks from his huge smile. He was holding a small blanket by the corner, dragging it behind him, and his other arm was waving in the air as a counter balance, as he was taking what looked to be his first steps.
"He is a beautiful child. I can see why you love him."
"Rhian said he… saw a picture of me, and called me 'Ada…'".The Guardian's eyes swam, as he lifted a finger and traced the outlines of the little boy's smile, showing his baby teeth. "I do not think I can bear this…" and his shoulders began to shake, as he silently cried.
Haldir squeezed Daeron's shoulder and tried to support him, as he thought about all the Guardian had told him, and he felt it to be cruel. Daeron had done everything right, and it seemed as if love had been snatched away not once, but twice?
"Haldir… I do not know what to do anymore," Daeron swallowed, "and I do not know why I should try."
"Daeron, what are you saying?"
"Perhaps I should sail to Valinor…"
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NOTES:
The Harad words in this story are actually Amheric (an Ethiopian Semetic Language, which I swiped from Google Translate). If I have any readers from that region, pleaseforgive me for butchering it.
Gosa – a large extended family ("More than family")
Nefisi –the Soul, which the Elves would call the Fëa.
Varinēri – Valar
īru īlivatari – Eru Ilúvatar
Lijochini litinesa tichilalehi– You may rise, children
Kewakibiti Nigišiti– Queen of Stars (Varda, Elbereth)
T'ibebi yazele tarīki– Tale of Wisdom
Tereti –Story; fable
Yehiyiweti –Yavanna
Geneti –Paradise (the afterlife)
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-Dáin's son is Thorin III Stonehelm, current Lord of the Iron Hills.
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[1] Camels were animals native to the Southern lands, and thus appear illustrated on a map of Middle-earth. /wiki/Camels
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[2] Apparently, the lions roamed the lands of the East (perhaps referring to the lands beyond Rhûn, the Uttermost East), hunting "beasts and tender men". [J.R.R. Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien (ed.), The Lost Road and Other Writings, "Part Three: The Etymologies"] /wiki/Lions
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[3] Elephants were creatures only mentioned fleetingly. Gandalf does mention them, so it is possible that they shared the wide burning plains of the Harad with what would be their giant relatives, the Mûmakil: /wiki/Elephants; The Hobbit,by J.R.R. Tolkien, Ch 1: "An Unexpected Party"; and Ch 2: "Roast Mutton."
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