Chapter Thirty-Two
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SUMMARY: The Kings celebrate their first anniversary, and Thranduil realizes Bard wasn't the only one who was changed after their joining.
Everyone enjoys themselves at the Yule Dance, but Rhian's getting a bit fed up.
It's the Eve of Turuhalmë, the Tale-Telling, and everyone gathers with their families. Thranduil has special gifts for Tauriel and his children with Bard. Bowen finds that his heart is beginning to heal a bit.
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"It seems to me we can never give up longing and wishing while we are still alive. There are certain things we feel to be beautiful and good, and we must hunger for them."
― George Eliot, The Mill on the Floss
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City of Dale, 16th of December 2942 T.A.
When King Bard had announced plans to hold the Dale's First Annual Yule celebrations, a schedule of events had been posted all over the city, and the Dale Folk and their Dwarven and Elven counterparts crowded around the postings with great curiosity. After two solemn and emotional Remembrances to honor their fallen, it was time to celebrate with those who had survived.
Hilda as usual, rolled up her sleeves and went to work, and said a prayer of thanks just about every day for her new Aide. Now, there's a girl who knew how to get things done!
It was early afternoon, and Hilda, Bard, and Rhian were standing in the Great Hall, discussing plans for the Yule Ball which would take place next week. Rhian had come up with the idea to turn the Dance into a fundraiser, to help support the Widows and Orphans.
"It's a season of giving, and what better cause?" she reasoned. "I know the City's got funds set aside, but this is a way for Dale to look after their own."
"That's brilliant, Rhian, really." Bard told her, and Hilda nodded her agreement. "Looks like you've got things in hand, so just tell me where and when I'm supposed to show up, yeah?"
"Sure thing, love. Leave it to us."
Bard kissed Hilda on the cheek, just as Percy came up to them. "Bard, your Elf wants you."
"Oh? Where is he?" Bard hadn't seen him all morning.
"In the courtyard," Percy answered, handing him his fur-lined cloak and riding gloves.
Bard took the items with a confused look, but Percy just grinned and pointed to the big double-doors. "Get going."
Bard pinned his cloak, and walked outside, to find Thranduil astride Naurmôr with Fînlossen saddled and ready.
"What's all this?"
"You will find out," Thranduil smiled. "Follow me."
Bard pretty much knew where they were headed, when Thranduil led them through the South Gate. Still they enjoyed the ride, and the sight of the snowy woods.
But he was surprised when they reached the Hunting Lodge they had visited three weeks before.
"It would have been nice do the work ourselves, Meleth nîn, but I wanted to make sure we had a place to celebrate our anniversary. I hope you are not disappointed."
Somehow, his Elf had managed to restore it to habitable status, with a new roof, new windows, and a new front porch, complete with two wooden chairs.
"Oh, I'm not disappointed at all," Bard said with wonder in his voice. "I love it! How did you manage it?"
"I asked Ben to take a look at it, then arrange for some work crews to get it ready." He pointed a black gloved hand toward the shed in the back. "We have a place to shelter the horses, and there is wood for the fireplace and it is stocked with food, and some extra clothes."
They dismounted and led their stallions to the small barn, which had been stocked with straw, hay and enough feed to last for a few days.
"Come," Thranduil took his hand eagerly. "I want to show you the rest."
He led Bard through the front door and stopped. "What do you think?"
"Oh…"
The interior had been swept, scrubbed and furnished. The stone walls had also been cleaned, fireplace repaired, and a cheery blaze gave the large room a wonderful glow, along with several lamps on the walls. There was an iron crane, with a hook on the end to attach a kettle and swing it over the flames, and several other utensils were hanging on the wall. There was a cupboard, that looked to be stocked with food and water, a table and chairs and the bed in the corner was newly-made with several colorful quilts, and Bard saw two thick robes hanging on the hooks by the dresser, which he assumed held a few changes of clothes.
"Do you like it, Bard?" Thranduil asked uncertainly.
"I… absolutely love it." Bard blinked a few times to clear his eyes. He put his arms around his Elf and held him tight. "This is a wonderful anniversary present!"
Thranduil breathed a sigh of relief. "I was hoping you would not be angry we did not do the work ourselves."
"That would have been nice, but to be realistic, it would have taken us years to finish. This," Bard kissed him, "is so much better."
They both had been frantically busy lately, and had only made love once since Thranduil had returned from his monthly trip to his Kingdom, and that had been two weeks ago. Since then, they had been getting up earlier and going to bed later, to get things done, to not neglect time with their children. They both needed a rest.
"I have arranged for us to be here for three days, and the Guardians will alert if there is an emergency."
"Three days? You mean, the children knew about this? And Hilda?"
"They do, and I admire them for keeping it a secret. Everyone knows, although only Hilda, Galion and Percy know precisely where we are." Thranduil's nose rubbed against his. "The bed is new," he whispered.
"So, I see…" Bard smirked, then undid the clasp on Thranduil's cloak. "Shall we try it out?"
"If you insist." The Elf had his cloak off before he could blink, and within minutes, and amidst many kisses and caresses, they were both naked and tumbling on the bed.
"Ohhhh… I like this…". Bard's eyes closed, as he enjoyed the feel of his Elf against him.
"You said we should take time, to lie around naked on a regular basis," Thranduil whispered in his ear, "and I do not plan on putting clothes on again until we have to leave."
"So, who's going to bring in more wood?" Bard stroked the Elf's hair, then massaged down his back. "Last time I checked, the privy was 25 feet away. It's cold out there."
"But it's warm in here." Thranduil nipped at his shoulder, "Pay attention, Bowman; I am trying ravish you."
Before Bard could respond, he found himself on his stomach as the Elf did just that.
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It was just before dawn, when Thranduil rolled over in bed and smiled, as he watched his husband sleep.
They had spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in bed, as they made love, ate a leisurely dinner, and laughed and talked. Despite his earlier declaration, they did dress again, but only long enough to use the outdoor privy, bring in more wood for the fire, and check the horses. But the minute they got back into the lodge, off came the clothes again, and they crawled in bed.
Bard murmured something, and rolled over on his back. His mouth was slightly open, and his hands rested on his stomach as his chest rose and fell, and the golden glow from the fire illuminated the hair on his chest.
Thranduil reached over to run his fingers lightly through it, and remembered the first time he had seen Bard's completely naked body on their wedding night. He had stood before him, naked and unashamed, strong and muscular, with wide shoulders, narrower hips, powerful thighs, and all that glorious hair… The Elf was fascinated, and completely aroused at the sight. He had the same reaction, every time he watched his Bowman's body…
"Morning, love," his Bowman whispered roughly.
Thranduil met his sleepy eyes, and smiled. "I was just looking at all your hair."
"I see. So, you're not sick of sleeping with a Warg yet?"
"Not at all. I love to look at you." Thranduil reached over and kissed him. "Happy Anniversary, Meleth nîn."
"Happy Anniversary." Bard smiled and sat up. "Hold that thought, love."
He rolled out of bed and pulled on his clothes and boots. "I realize there are advantages to keeping the necessary away from the house, but I can't think of any when I have to go out into the cold first thing in the morning." Bard grabbed the empty kettle, bent down and kissed him again. "I'll take care of business, and get us water from the river for tea, and see to the horses. Be right back."
"I will be here," the Elf grinned. "I will see to breakfast."
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While Bard was outdoors, Thranduil got up, wrapped himself in his robe, and set out the bread, butter, honey and cheese and poured cider into two of the cups. Then he put some more wood on the fire and stirred the coals until it was blazing brightly.
"Bloody fuck!" Bard blew into the room with a shiver. "It's really coming down out there, and the wind's blowing."
Thranduil stood up and looked out the window, and the whirling snow. "I hope someone thought to provide a shovel. I did not think of it."
"There's a shovel in the barn; we'll use that to make a path to the privy and clean off the porch later." Bard handed the kettle to Thranduil, who put in on the hook, then swung it over the flames to heat. "I didn't even have to go to the creek; I just filled it up with snow. Hang on a minute." He grabbed the pitcher and bowl from the wash stand, dumped out the dirty water, then filled them with more snow to melt for later.
"That is good thinking," Thranduil smiled. "Are the horses all right?"
"Nice and snug. Ben did a good job with all this. I was wondering where he was at over the last couple of weeks," Bard grinned and looked around. "I'm so glad you did this for me, Thranduil."
"I did it for us, Bard." The Elf sat down and filled their plates. "It is perfect for quick, private getaways, and it is wonderful to throw off our crowns and just be ourselves. As much as I love our living quarters at the Palace, and the Castle, we are always Kings there, with duty and responsibility looming around every corner."
Bard had shed his cloak and boots and sat down to eat. "Mmmm," he took a bite of the bread with honey. "I'm so hungry… Did you sleep much, love?"
"Only as much as you let me," the Elf grinned. "The food is very good," as he took another bite of cheese.
"Do you remember what we had to eat at our wedding feast?" Bard asked.
"Not at all, though please do not tell Galion that; it would hurt his feelings."
"I don't remember either. I couldn't take my eyes off you."
"It was the same with me. I was excited to be married, and I doubt I ate much."
"You weren't nervous?" Bard asked.
"Very much, but not about marrying you. Tauriel was so pleased, and Sigrid's eyes were shining, and Bain..." Thranduil was thoughtful. "I wanted to be a good father to your children, Bard, but that did not guarantee our family could be happy in the long run. But that day..." he smiled, "it was wonderful. Especially to see Tilda excited after she had suffered so."
"She was so cute, wasn't she?" Bard grinned. "I think our wedding helped her get over her shock, don't you? It helped all of us."
"I love our family, Bard; I only wish Legolas could come home and be a part of it."
Bard reached over and grabbed his hand. "And he will someday; I'm sure of it. I doubt he's even made it to Rivendell yet, so he doesn't even know your book is waiting for him."
"You are right…" Thranduil sighed wistfully. "Can I tell you something?"
"Sure you can. What's up?"
"It is funny… since I have married you, time feels… different. When I threw Thorin in the dungeons, I said, 'A hundred years is a blink of an eye to an Elf,' and it was true, but since you and I married, it feels like time has slowed down to a crawl."
"Really?" Bard looked concerned. "I don't feel different in that respect. The days feel the same to me."
"My days seem longer, but in a good way… Life does not feel the same to me."
Bard wiped his mouth, then put his elbows on the table. "Maybe I wasn't the only one who changed when we joined, love. Maybe this is something you have received from me. Do you think?"
The Elf considered this. "If what I have noticed is true, then I am happy, because I now have three Mortal children, and dear friends in Hilda and Percy. They will leave us, and maybe the Valar has gifted me with this sense of time to appreciate every day with them." His throat tightened. "It would be the best gift, because I love them so much."
Bard got up, and went over to put his arm around his husband. "It is, isn't it?"
Thranduil put his arms around Bard's waist and hugged him. "I still do not know why I deserve all this, after the way I behaved towards Legolas and Tauriel."
"I do," the Bowman said with a grin. "You were blessed with a determined wife, who would not rest until you were happy again. She must have pounded on the gates of Manwë's Palace until he gave in, just to shut her up." Bard smiled down at Thranduil. "She's a stubborn lass, and I'm grateful."
"Bard?" Thranduil asked softly, with a suddenly serious look. "May I ask you something?"
"Anything, love. You know that."
"Do you ever regret becoming Immortal?
"I did wonder a couple of times, especially when I struggled to relearn how to shoot and handle a sword. But wondering isn't the same thing as wishing, love. That was only when I doubted myself."
"Why?"
"Because I didn't think I was living up to it." Bard sighed. "Maybe that's why I blew up at you in the Garden last February. The bottom of all that was my own fear and frustration."
"For my part," Thranduil mused, "I wonder what it would be like if I had chosen Mortality."
Bard shook his head and smiled. "We both would have hated that. You'd be miserable at aging, and would never forgive yourself for abandoning your people, and that would have come between us, in the end. You also couldn't have tolerated it physically; did you ever think of that? You have injuries, and I'm not sure you could keep up your glamour. What kind of a life would you have had with such constant pain?"
"That is true." He smiled. "Thank you."
"My pleasure." Bard took his hand and kissed it. "I'm glad I married you, love. And I know, down to my bones, I made the right choice. Don't doubt that for a second." Then he gave Thranduil a wicked grin. "At least this way, we've got the "Elf Thing."
Thranduil stood up and pulled Bard over to the bed and removed his clothes and urged them under the covers again. They didn't make love right away, but held each other as they talked about what this past year has meant for each of them.
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City of Dale, 25th of December 2942 T.A.
Tonight, the Yule Ball was in full swing. The musicians played lively music and the Elves were showing off some of their precise elaborate dances, then the Dwarves got up to demonstrate their lively jigs, and the skirts swirled on the ladies of Dale, as they danced and sang and laughed.
The food was wonderful, with the traditional Pot Luck, and Hilda had the Great Hall decorated with greenery and red ribbons everywhere, and the Ale and Wine flowed freely.
Bard and Thranduil danced with each other, then their daughters, and even Hilda was taken around the floor fairly often, when they could drag her away from her duties. Ben danced with Rhian, with Darryn between them, until Thranduil grabbed the baby and carried him around for a while.
Evan danced with the Princesses, Hilda and several times with Rhian, much to Turamarth's consternation.
When the Elf asked Rhian to dance, the music slowed down, which made it easier for him to talk to her.
"Are you happy spending time with Evan?" he couldn't stop himself from asking. "Is he treating you well?"
"Oh, yes." Rhian assured him. "You needn't worry; he's a perfect gentleman."
"He is not pressuring you in any way?" Tur knew he was entering dicey territory, but he had to know. "Are you comfortable with him?"
"Why does everyone keep asking me that? Evan hasn't even tried to kiss me, except on the cheek, so what is the problem?"
Turamarth sighed. "I am sorry, Rhian. I know we are perhaps over-protective…"
"'Perhaps?' Perhaps? You're all paranoid!"
"…but no one wants to see you hurt, after all you have been through –"
The girl stiffened and stepped away from him. "Come here." She grabbed his arm and led him over to a corner of the Great Hall. "So… you still see me as 'broken?' Like I'm still made of glass, or that I'm too ignorant to know what I'm doing?"
"Rhian…"
"You're right Tur; I have been through a lot. In fact, I am the 'oldest' twenty-one-year—old I know. But I wish everyone would stop seeing me as this stupid, fragile girl who will jump off a bridge if someone doesn't stop me!"
"Please, Rhian," Tur tried to backpedal. "You must understand; Daeron has asked me to look out for you while he is gone, and I am trying to take my promise seriously. Ben is simply behaving like a good father, and as for myself and the others," he smiled, "we feel like big brothers. It is our job to make sure you are cherished the way you deserve."
"Well, I know Evan likes me, and I like him, but I don't know that he cherishes me, really."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't get me wrong, he's great to spend time with, but so far, that's all it is, and I want it that way!" Rhian stamped her foot. "My only experience with men was Phylip who didn't like me, and Garth, and we all know what he was!
"I'm trying to learn how to be around people, without being afraid all the time. How am I supposed to do that, with this 'army,'" she waved her hands, "scaring everyone off? How I am supposed to learn to trust my own judgement, if you won't let me?" She gave him a pointed look. "Don't you get it? I need to know I can handle things or I will never stop being afraid!" She stomped her foot again. "I keep up with the self-defense classes with Tauriel, and I know that I'm not helpless, and I won't be, ever again, do you understand?
"So… your friendship with Evan is… a test?"
"Tur! You're making it sound like I'm using him, and that's just not true!" she stood still as the music stopped. "I'm not thinking about marrying him, and I don't know if he's thinking about that either. I'm just spending time with him and having fun."
Turamarth smiled down at her, "I hope you will find love with the right person, Rhian. Until then, I cannot stop acting as your protector with sharp swords." He laughed. "Should any Man, Elf, or Dwarf, cause you pain, he will be introduced to them."
Rhian grinned and gave him a hug. "I think you'll have to get in line. I love you for it, really, but do you have to understand why this is important to me."
"I think I do."
Rhian sighed. "If Daeron were here, he'd be a hundred times worse than you, but I miss him."
"So, do I." Tur released her. "Has he written you?"
"He did, but it was such a short note, and it was, I don't know… different."
"Perhaps he was busy?" Tur honestly didn't know what to say.
"He thanked me for the painting of Darryn, which was nice, but… he was so… impersonal, and it just wasn't the same…" she shook her head and laughed a little. "I don't know why it bothers me; I'm just being silly. You're right, though; he was getting ready to leave for a nearby village."
A small flame of hope flickered in Turamarth's heart, but he wanted to be careful. "At this time of the year, it is natural to think of our friends and loved ones, and to keep them in our prayers."
They went over to the table where Ben was sitting with Darryn in his lap, talking to Gruffudd. Tur greeted the older men, tickled Darryn under his chin, then walked over to the big doors to step outside and look up at the stars.
He said a prayer of thanks for his life, and all he loved, then he prayed earnestly to Varda and all the Valar that the hopes of his Gwador would be granted.
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City of Dale, 27th of December 2942 T.A.
It was the Eve of Turuhalmë or the Log-drawing,[1] the final day of the Yule celebrations. Tomorrow night, the big Yule Log would blaze brightly in the firepit of the Great Hall for the Telling of Tales. This was a favorite tradition of Thranduil's since childhood, and several Elves and Dwarves had been scheduled to tell stories of the long history of their people. Some of the older Men of Dale would share the history of Men as well.
But that was tomorrow. Tonight, was a time for each family to gather in front of their own hearths to share their favorite memories of the past year, and to exchange gifts with one another.
In the Castle, everyone was comfortable in the Lounge with the fire going and with cakes and wine and cider for the children. Bard had even allowed Sigrid to have a small glass of wine – watered down, of course.
"So, who starts?" Bain asked eagerly.
"Why don't you, son? What was your favorite memory this year?" Bard smiled. "Then we'll go around the room, how's that?"
"Okay." Bain thought a minute. "My favorite was when Ada and Daeron sparred in the arena at the Palace! That was amazing!"
"Thank you," Thranduil smiled. "Daeron is a worthy opponent, to be sure. You are next, Sigrid."
"I think I liked it best when I got to help Darryn be born. It was scary, but… wonderful! I knew for sure I wanted to be a Healer, and I was excited." She smiled into the fire. "What about you, Da?"
"For me, there's no question: I'll never forget you children coming back to Dale, last May. I watched you hug Tauriel and Ada, and thanked the Valar for making us into a real family." His eyes began to shine a little. "I think that will always be special."
Sigrid looked up at her Da from her cushion on the floor and squeezed his hand. "I loved that, too."
"Galion? I think you're next."
The Aide was sitting with Tauriel, and had his arm around her shoulder, as she leaned against him. "I believe my memory was on the same day, as Gwinïg first saw us. Her face was alight with a joy I had not seen in a very long time." He kissed her red hair. "It was a beautiful sight."
"I remember that day, too. I had missed you all so much, and could not stop crying." Tauriel smiled. "I had a new family, and we could all finally be together again. But I must tell you, my favorite memory is when Ada woke up from his sleep after saving Bard. You called me your daughter – "
"And you are, Gwinïg."
"You told me you loved me, and…" Tauriel smiled. "It was wonderful."
"Auntie Hil?" Tilda leaned her head onto Thranduil's chest. "It's your turn, then Uncle Percy, then Ada, then me!"
"All right, Beanie. Let's see… Well, I don't like to think about when you were so sick, lovey, but boy… when Daeron came out of your room to tell us you were going to be all right… it was wonderful! But what I loved most about that time was how all you kids supported each other, and worked together to help her get well. I was so proud! You put up with a lot, but not one of you complained, acted jealous or got impatient with it."
"What about me?" Tilda asked.
"I was proud of you, too! How hard did you have to work to get better? You still haven't given up, and as much as we have to remind you not to push yourself, we're all glad you want to, lovey. You'll never be one of those lazy Princesses, who sits around and wants everyone to do for you."
Tilda sighed. "Bain's going to be King, and Sigrid's going to be a Healer, but I don't know what I want to be when I grow up, yet."
"No one says you have to know, Tithen Pen," Thranduil stroked her hair. "But when you do, we all know you will work hard at it."
"Okay. Thanks Auntie Hil."
"Thank you, Auntie," Sigrid got up and kissed her. "You're the best."
"Yeah, thanks, Auntie Hil." Bain grinned. "I was grateful for Rhys, too."
"So was I, love." Hilda nodded, then poked Percy. "Your turn."
The Steward made a big show of rubbing his chin, "Let's see… Well, I dropped a hammer on my big toe, I was really happy when the black nail fell off and the new toenail grew in again…"
All the kids groaned, and Sigrid threw her pillow at him. "Ew!"
"All right, all right… Well, I had a good time visiting with you all at the Palace." He kissed Hilda's cheek. "I missed my best girl."
"Aww…" Tilda said. "Ada? What about you?"
"I think I shall let you go first, Tithen Pen."
"Okay. Well… I loved it when I got Charlotte back, and all those nice clothes for her, but was that too long ago, or should I pick something that happened later?" She brightened, "Ooh! I know! I loved how you and Uncle Galion got scared when I lost my baby teeth!"
"And Da got so sick…" Bain snickered.
"And Hilda had to come and talk to us," Tauriel laughed. "Sigrid and Bard were so funny that night."[2]
Sigrid giggled. "Ada was so cute, when he got worried."
Bard rolled his eyes. "Your poor Ada was scared out of his wits."
"About what?" Bain asked, looking around. "What was so funny?"
"Never you mind," Hilda said. "It's a 'girl thing.'"
"Your turn, Ada!" Tilda looked up at him.
"It is." Thranduil got up. "Excuse me; I will be right back."
"Where's he going?" Bain asked.
"Guess we'll see, won't we?" Bard shrugged.
The Elvenking soon returned with several packages, wrapped in cloth and string, then handed a large, flat one to Sigrid.
"Open this first, Iellig, before the others."
Sigrid looked at Ada curiously, and Tilda sat on the floor beside her as she undid the strings, then unfolded the cloth.
"Oh…" Sigrid covered her mouth with both hands. "Oh, my goodness…" Her eyes filled with tears.
"Who's that, Sig?" Tilda looked at the picture.
"It's…" she sobbed out. "It's Mam! This is our Mam, Til!"
"My lands!" Hilda said, as she buried her nose in her handkerchief. "Look at her! That's exactly what she looked like, when you two got married!"
"Da? Did you know about this?" Sigrid asked Bard, half-fearing he might be upset.
"I did," he assured her. "Your mother was wearing that exact dress when I first met her."
Tilda's eyes got big. "That's my Mam?" The little girl couldn't stop staring, and everyone in the room was mesmerized as they watched her. She reverently ran her fingers over the curves and lines of her face, and took it all in. "It's really her… That's really my Mam... She was really real!"
"She was, Little Bean, and she loved you all very much." Bard's voice was rough, and he had to clear his throat.
There were smaller copies, for everyone else. He had even made one for Bard, to put on the mantle in their bedchamber, to keep next to his picture of Mírelen and the rest of the children.
"Where in the world did you find this, Thranduil?" Percy asked, still visibly moved.
"This original was painted by Mattie's great-aunt, who lived in Rohan. Her family sent it to the Lord of Dorwinian, who had made inquiries at my request."
"You mean, you hunted for this?" Bain was incredulous. "Did you know, Da?"
"No. Ada wrote to Lord Brandis while you were all at the Palace, but he showed it to me when it first arrived."
"I did. Your Aunt's family wishes you to keep the original. Da and I thought you should have it, Sigrid, because you had the most memories of her, and because you resemble her so closely." Thranduil explained. "We can have it installed in your room after the holidays, if that is what you wish."
Instantly, the girl was off the floor and into her Ada's arms. "Thank you, Ada; this is the best present! I love you."
"I love you, too, Brennil Iell." The Elvenking kissed the top of her head.
Then he turned toward Tauriel. "I have something for you, too, Gwinïg. Tonight, is a night for good memories, and I wanted you to be given some, as well."
"Ada?" Tauriel sat up with a confused look on her face, as she took the package Thranduil handed to her. "What is this?"
"Open it, and you will see."
"Open it!" Tilda crawled up beside her on the couch. "Hurry!"
Still looking puzzled, Tauriel unwrapped it to find a wooden box, with a letter on top.
"What does the letter say?" Bain asked eagerly, still clutching his picture like the treasure it was.
Tauriel lifted the flap on the envelope, pulled out the letter, and began to read aloud:
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To Thranduil Oropherion, King of the Woodland Realm,
My Lord Thranduil,
In answer to your inquiries about Neldor and Solana, the birth parents of Tauriel, I did know them very well, as Neldor and I had been friends since childhood. They were fine and honorable Elves, talented craftsmen, and were a credit to their village, as well as your Kingdom.
My Lord, you were correct in assuming her age as seven years, when you found her. My wife and I fondly remember attending several celebrations for Tauriel on her Begetting Day which was the 3rd of August 2323 T.A.
I hope this information is helpful to you, as I am honored to serve at the pleasure of my King.
With humble regards,
Levos Aidurion, a Cooper of the Woodland Realm
P.S. I have enclosed several letters addressed to Lady Tauriel, in which I, and many of our friends, have written down their memories of her birth parents. If it pleases you My Lord, we would ask you to present it to her as a gift.
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Tauriel's fingers trembled, as she rested her hand on the beautiful carved box. "Did you make this, Ada?"
"I did, Gwinïg, but I think the real treasure is inside." He smiled down at her.
"OPEN IT!" Tilda squealed, bouncing with excitement. "Hurry!"
Bard got up and picked up Tilda. "Come on, Little Bean," he whispered, soothingly. "Let's let Tauriel do this in her own time, yeah?"
The Elf took a deep breath and opened the box, to find it packed with letters, all tied up with a blue ribbon. This was her history, her link to the parents that loved her and gave their lives, so she could be safe.
"Can I…" she looked up apologetically.
Thranduil bent down and kissed her brow. "Of course, Gwinïg. You can read them in private, and take as much time as you like."
Tauriel was beyond words, and began to cry. Thranduil pulled her up and gathered her to him, and rubbed her back, as he whispered endearments in Sindarin.
The gift-giving didn't stop there. Tilda presented everyone with small, clay bowls clearly made by childish hands and been painted and glazed with bright colors.
"It's to put on your dresser and keep stuff!" Tilda said eagerly. "Do you like them? Ada helped me, and we took them to the Potter, so he could cook them!"
"He fired them, Tithen Pen," Thranduil corrected her, as, of course, everyone praised her efforts and promised to put them to good use.
"My turn!" Sigrid got up and brought her packages for everyone, and Hilda and Tauriel were given lace shawls, knitted with extra thin, gossamer yarn.
"It's so delicate!" Hilda marveled. "Did you make this?"
"Mmm Hmm! Glélindë helped us get the lace yarn, and met us at Rhian's, to show us how to work the stitches!"
"Thank you," Tauriel kissed her sister's cheek. "You have done a wonderful job on this."
The men in the family were given new socks, done in different colors, which was received with much thanks, and Tilda was given a pretty hat, scarf and gloves.
"Ooh! I can use my fingers when I wear them!" She wiggled them to prove it to everyone.
Bain gave his fathers a dozen arrows that he fletched himself (under Turamarth's close supervision), gave Sigrid a leather bag, and Tilda received a hood made of fox fur to keep her warm. Hilda and Galion received new coin purses, and Uncle Percy got a new belt with a silver buckle. He even made new collars for Thangon and Esta, which fit perfectly.
"Ada," Tilda crawled into his lap, and looked up at him, "you never said what your favorite memory is!"
The Elvenking smiled down at her, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Look around, Tithen Pen," he whispered softly. "What could be better than this?"
Then it was time for the Tale-Telling, and Galion, the eldest present, had been chosen. He began the story of The Music of the Ainur, and soon, everyone was caught up in the wonder of it.
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Throughout Dale, others were celebrating in front of their hearths and telling Tales.
Turamarth spent a quiet evening with his family. Captain Ómar had come to visit his wife and son, and Adamar and Idril were gathered in his living room as they laughed and drank toasts on front of the fire, and thought about Daeron, and wished him well, as they recalled stories of their two children growing up.
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Hannah was with her son and his family. Her small granddaughter had fallen asleep in her arms, and her grandson looked up eagerly, as she told him stories about his Da when he was small.
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Ermon and Elénaril enjoyed a rare night to themselves, after opening their gifts. He had bought her a silver bracelet bearing two small stars with sapphires, for each of their children. She laughed, when she saw it, because she had had a necklace made, with four gemstones, for each member of their new family. This Yule, they told no Tales, but spent the evening snuggled before the fire, and shared their dreams and hopes for their new family.
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Feren, Glélindë and Gruffudd enjoyed their little girls, Alis and Dafina, who loved to listen to Grandad talk about his daughter and son in law, and tell the girls about the nights they were born.
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Rhian and Ben had invited Evan, who would otherwise be alone, to celebrate with them, and he had small gifts and a stuffed toy for Darryn, before he regaled them with stories of life in East Bight as a boy. Rhian was enjoying herself, though she thought of her closest friend, who was far away, and wondered if he was enjoying himself, too.
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Across town, on this same night, Anna and Daffyd were also helping their new family celebrate. The children had been sent wonderful gifts by the Royal Family, and even Beriel received a nice big soup bone from the kitchens there.
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The Tales told around their fire were of absent loved ones. Anna and Daffyd spoke of many small memories of Owen and Ellyn, which now seemed so important: many of the small sayings of their Da, or the way Ellyn cooked, but could never make a decent pie crust to save her life. Daffyd had lots of stories of his and Owen's misadventures were growing up. Then they spoke of the children, of Bowen's first words, and the first time Maddox walked, and of their own son, Powell, and the time his head got stuck between the rails of the banister!
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Bowen should have felt sad, and maybe he would be when tomorrow came, but tonight he found himself smiling, and felt grateful for Anna and Daffyd, who loved them, and wanted to preserve the memories of his parents. After everyone went to bed that night, the boy got up, put on his robe and went to the window, where for the first time in months, he began to talk to the stars.
"Thank you, Da," he whispered. "I'm sorry I got mad at you. I miss you all the time, but I want to be better, and be happy. Look after Mam, and keeping watching over us, okay?"
There was no answer, of course, but a soft breeze surrounded him, though the window was closed. When he felt a tingling sensation on his cheek, he smiled, and kept his hand there for a long time.
.
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NOTES:
[1] From The Book of Lost Tales; Volume 1, J. R.R. Tolkien, pg. 260: "that was the day of Turuhalmë or the Log-drawing. "Twill be a fitting day,' saith Lindo, 'for the sports of the morning in the snow and the gathering of the logs from the woods and the songs and drinking of Turuhalmë will leave us of right mood to listen to old tales beside this fire.' ... and the company from Mar Vanwa Tyaliéva went into the snowy woods to bring back firewood on sleighs.
Never was the Tale-fire allowed to go out or to die into grey ash, but on the eve of Turuhalmë it sank always to a smaller blaze until Turuhalmë itself, when great logs were brought into the Room of the Tale-fire and being blessed by Lindo with ancient magic roared and flared anew upon the hearth."
[2] What Makes a King, Ch. 27: /works/10838010/chapters/26722278