Chapter Thirty-Five
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SUMMARY: Rhian and Hannah have a heart-to-heart talk. Daeron and Haldir report for duty in the Wold, and meet the real ruler of Rohan. Thranduil returns to Dale earlier than expected, more nervous than ever, just in time for an Unexpected Party to arrive.
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"I am running after you, and life, in desperate pursuit. My dream is that someday you will both turn and let me catch you. That dream carries me through every night... I have enclosed a hundred kisses in this letter. You must count them out carefully and not lose any."
― Lisa Kleypas, Seduce Me at Sunrise
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City of Dale, 10thof May 2943 T.A.
Rhian and Hannah were sitting in the Garden of Old Ben's house, and the midwife was playing with Darryn, while Rhian knelt on a padded rug and planted annuals.
"Bur!" Darryn pointed up at the sky, as a grey dove flew low, in the direction of the Castle.
"Yes, lovey, that's a bird," Hannah kissed his hair. "What a clever boy you are."
"It seems like he picks up a new word every day." Rhian wiped her forehead with her wrist, as her gloved hands held the small spade. "This is going to be so pretty.
"I wish you had time to work your magic with my garden." Hannah sighed. "Well, I shouldn't complain, really. I've been up to my eyebrows with work, and my daughter-in-law is such a sweetheart about helping me. She wants me to give up my house and move in with them."
"If you don't really have time to keep up your garden, why do you do it?"
"Because, like you, digging in the dirt relaxes me," Hannah smiled down at the girl. "I'm by myself, with nothing but the plants and the sounds of the bees and the birds and… I like the peace it brings."
"Me too," Rhian smiled. "I always feel better after I've worked out here."
"Good girl. Now, how have you been doing? Really?" Hannah asked. It had been a while since they had talked. Between Rhian's new work schedule, and all the new patients the midwife had to attend to, there wasn't much time to touch base with the girl's progress.
"I'm… doing good, I think."
"What do you mean, you think?"
Rhian sat back, pulled off her gloves, and took a seat next to Hannah. "I don't really have much anxiety, and I still have the occasional nightmare, and you said they might never go away…"
"I did. And when you wake up from one, what do you do?"
"Try not to take it seriously."
"Good girl."
"I'm not too worried about that. Overall, I feel… good, but…"
"What, pet?"
"I like Evan a lot. But I'm not really feeling like…"
"Yes?"
Rhian sighed. "Maybe Garth ruined me."
"'Ruined you?'" Hannah looked concerned.
"What's wrong with me?" she wailed. "Evan is perfect for me, Hannah! He's kind, and he's smart and he makes me laugh and I know he's good to Darryn, but…"
"Rhian, this is what happens when young ladies and young men step out: they spend time, have fun, get to know each other, and sometimes love happens, and sometimes it doesn't. Every person you meet teaches you something about yourself. So even if things don't work out, it wasn't wasted time."
"You really think so?"
Hannah tilted her head with a smile. "If Evan were to ask you to marry him today, what do you think you would say?"
"I… don't know. Part of me would want to say yes."
"Why is that?"
"Because… I know I could be content. But would that be enough?"
"Evan would certainly make you feel safe, but doesn't your Da do that already?" She smiled at Rhian. "And you know how dear you are to me, not to mention two Kings who've taken a personal interest in your welfare. How could Evan make you feel safer than that?"
"That's true…"
"Don't you think you deserve a little passion? Why are you berating yourself for not finding it in Evan?"
"When I'm with Evan I have a good time, and we laugh and tease each other, but when I think of doing more…"
"Has it occurred to you that you just don't love him, except as a good friend? And why is that a bad thing?"
Rhian adjusted her position, so she was sitting cross-legged on her blanket. "I don't want to hurt him, Hannah! He's really wonderful, and…"
The Midwife sighed. "What brought this on? Has he made advances, or talked about taking things to the next level?"
"No. We've only hugged and kissed on the cheek, but I feel like this all should be heading towards… something, and I don't know if it is."
"Who says you have to know right now? You've not been leading him on, if that's what you're afraid of. And I don't see him stringing you along either. It's still what it was when you first started spending time together; two young people who enjoy each other's company. He seems fine with things the way they are, doesn't he?"
"Maybe I don't know how to be in love. I thought I was in love with Garth, and look how that turned out."
"Were you in love with him? Really?" Hannah wiggled Darryn's small stuffed toy for him to grab. "From what you've told me about Phylip, Garth seemed like a way out of a miserable, lonely home life. Maybe you loved the idea of love, because you never had a chance to know the real thing."
"Maybe…"
"Now, things are different. This time, if you do marry again, it will be your free choice, not a desperate one."
"What should I do?"
"Stop being afraid of disappointing anyone, and learn about yourself. Find out what you really want, and," Hannah looked at her intensely, "don't ever 'settle' again, for anything less."
There was a wistfulness in her words, which made Rhian curious. "Forgive me for asking, but were you happy with your husband? It's just that you know so much about what it's like to be abused, and I…"
"It's all right, pet. I know what you're asking." Hannah was quick to assure her. "No, my Martyn never laid a hand on me, except in a loving way. But, my father was a drinker, you see. And my brother and sisters and I had to endure his drunken rages and hid under our covers when he tossed my mother around." She looked sadly at Rhian. "There was nowhere for us to go."
"It was her idea for me to marry Martyn, so young. She quickly had us girls married off, and my brother had been apprenticed really young, and the minute we were all out of the house, she packed up her things and left him for good."
"What happened to your father?"
Hannah shrugged indifferently. "Fell off a walkway while stinking drunk and drowned. Martyn and I attended the funeral, but only because he said I needed to see him, so I could know sure he was dead, and never be afraid of him again."
"Did you love your husband? Really?"
Hannah became thoughtful. "I really did. Not at first, mind you, because I was young, and it had all been arranged, you understand, but Martyn did love me, and I learned to love him. Did we have a burning passion for each other?" She sighed. "No, lovey. Our love was something quieter, and solid. At that point in my life," she smiled, "I found it wonderful, just like you feel now about your life. When he passed, I genuinely mourned him."
Hannah sat still for a moment, lost in memories. "He was a wonderful man, but," she looked at Rhian, "he wasn't the only man I've ever loved."
"He wasn't?"
She shook her head. "I had fallen in love with my best friend's intended, though he never knew."
"It was Ben, wasn't it? You loved Ben, all those years ago!"
Darryn was falling asleep, and the midwife began to rub his back. "Aye. Oh, he was such a handsome man then, and all the girls were after him! But he only had eyes for Cristyn, you see, and I was already married to my husband."
"Did you ever tell anyone?"
"Just you." Hannah smiled down at her. "I carried the handfasting cord for Ben and Cristyn's wedding, and wished them well. Then I put it away my romantic notions and I resolved to be the best wife I could be to Martyn, and I'm glad I did."
"You never said anything to Ben?"
"Never. I had already had my oldest boy, and my love for him eclipsed everything. I knew what it was like to grow up in fear and anger, and I was never going to allow that for my kids. My boys were going to have it better, I promised myself. I did that, and I'm glad."
"Did Martyn ever suspect anything?"
Hannah paused, as she struggled to speak. "Right before he died." The woman lowered her eyes. "He thanked me for choosing to stay. I pretended not to understand, but we both knew. He asked me if I had any regrets, and when I told him no, I meant it, with all my heart." She wiped away a tear. "I did love him, and he gave me a good life, Rhian. How could I have regrets?" Hannah shook her head. "No… I'll always carry Martyn in my heart, just like Ben will his Cristyn and that's as it should be."
Rhian got up and put her arms around her. "You've both got a second chance! He really cares about you, Hannah."
"I hope so, lovey," Hannah stood up with Darryn. "Now, let's get this boy in his crib, before he changes his mind about a nap."
"What's it like to be in love?" Rhian asked, as they walked in the house.
"It'll just… hit you, pet. It's wonderful, and nerve-racking and powerful and terrible, but it's worth it." She smiled. "You'll know when it happens.
"Well, if it happens with you and Da, you've got my blessing." She leaned her head on Hannah's shoulder. "I love you."
"I love you, too."
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City of Dale, 18thof May 2943 T.A.
"Happy birthday, Da!" Tilda bounced on her father first thing in the morning. "How old are you?"
Sigrid and Bain came to the side of Bard's bed and smiled down at him.
"Happy birthday!" Sigrid leaned down to give him a hug.
"Thank you, my girl," He kissed his daughter's hair, "How are you, this morning?"
"Good, except now my Da's an old man," she teased, as she stood up, so Bain could hug him.
"Happy birthday, Da," Bain gave him a quick hug.
"Thank you, son." Bard rubbed his back. "Where's Ada?"
"Here I am, Meleth nîn." The Elf followed their daughter in the room with a tray, and the rest of the household followed behind with smiles on their faces.
Bard struggled to sit up the rest of the way, and couldn't help yawning a few times. Last night, he and Thranduil had "celebrated" his birthday a bit early (and rather vigorously), and the Bowman found himself a bit stiff and sore.
"Happy birthday, lovey," Hilda bent down and kissed his cheek, then Tauriel followed suit, then ushered Sigrid and Bain off to school.
"So, what's all this?" Bard asked after the tray Thranduil was carrying.
"Breakfast! I made it!"
"You don't say," Bard looked down at the burnt toast, and the runny eggs. "Did you have help?"
"Nope. I told Cook I wanted to do it by myself."
"I'm surprised Cook let you in his kitchen. He gets a bit territorial."
"Well, he helped, but only a little bit."
"That was nice of him." Bard wasn't surprised. Cook could be a real tyrant, but their Tilda could charm her way into just about everything. He noticed the toast was only burnt on one side – the other was barely done, so he reached for the butter crock and began to spread it.
"I even made you tea!" Tilda sat on the bed facing him, her legs making the shape of a "W" in that way only small children can do, and primly poured out the dark liquid into his cup. "It's really hot, but its that spicy stuff you like."
"Did Cook tell you that?"
"Uh huh. But he let me put the leaves in the teapot."
"I see." Bard looked down into his cup. It was so dark and strong, he wouldn't be surprised if a spoon stood up straight in it.
"Taste it, Da!"
Ignoring Thranduil's smirk, he took a sip.
"Um… It's just a little hot, Little Bean. Could you go get me some honey for this?"
"But you always like it plain; Cook says – "
"I want a special treat for my birthday. You go, while this cools off, love, okay?"
"All right." She bounced off the bed, and scurried down the Corridor to the kitchens.
"Blech!" Bard shuddered and handed him the pot. Pour most of that swill out and get some water in there."
"Where shall I put it?"
"In that fern over there. Rhian said it was hard to kill."
"Even sturdy ferns have their limits, Meleth nîn." Still the Elvenking did as he was asked, and diluted the mixture until it was palatable.
"Do you wish me to dispose of the food?" Thranduil asked him.
Bard managed to get the raw parts of the egg into a saucer, to give to Thangon. "This is tradition, you know. The kids always used to give me breakfast in bed back in Laketown." Bard smiled. "I've eaten much worse than this."
"Really?" Thranduil looked at him doubtfully.
"You bet. And when they're all grown," he sighed. "I'm going to miss it like crazy."
"Here you go, Da!" Tilda brought him the honeypot from the kitchen, and settled next to him. "So, what are you going to do today?"
"Well, I wish I could take the day off and play, but I've got a lot of work to do, love. So does Ada, but we'll have a good supper tonight with my favorite pie."
Tilda looked up at her Ada, who winked at her. Of course, they had planned a surprise party for him, and the little girl was struggling mightily to keep a straight face.
And, of course, the King of Dale kept his face passive and never let on he knew all about it, and would make sure to act shocked and pleased.
Bard looked down at their youngest daughter's face, smiling up at him, and his heart was filled to bursting, as he tucked in to his horrid breakfast.
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The Wold, Rohan, 22ndof May 2943 T.A.
When the Elves reached the rendezvous point to meet with the Men, Haldir went to the Marshall's tent right away.
Daeron was nervous, as was all the rest of the troops. All knew of King Fengel's indifference to such matters, but the people of Rohan, and especially of the Wold were anxious that this criminal network be destroyed. In years past, the Wold had been particularly vulnerable to attacks from the Easterlings, and the kidnapping and prostitution of their children would only incite more violence, and lead to open war.
"What happened?" Daeron asked Haldir when they emerged from the long meeting.
"Our suspicions were correct, in that Fengel knows very little about this, and it seems the Marshal is no hurry to enlighten him. He will not lie, if asked openly, but we are to proceed quickly and do what we can."
"Lord Léod wants the Mark to be rid of this pestilence as much as we do, though we will not," Haldir gave him a meaningful stare, "be taking prisoners, despite what the King of Harad wishes."
"The resources of the Wold are even thinner, after the plague. Why should law-abiding folk give up their food and shelter to house criminals?" Daeron shrugged. "I would not wish to do it either. But I hope they can provide some sort of proof to present to the King."
"I have told the Marshal that our troop will not be carrying out the executions but will assist in their capture." The Marchwarden made a grim face. "He has ordered anyone involved to be killed, and their Gwîb will be presented to the Harad.
"Ah." Daeron shuddered. "That… is a statement, to be sure."
"It is." Haldir nodded, then gave Daeron a look. "The Marshal has asked to see you."
"Me?" Daeron's eyes grew wide. "Why me?"
"That I do not know, but I am to return with you immediately."
The Marchwarden led the way, as he returned to the Marshal's tent, with a rather nervous Guardian, behind. When they entered, he was rather surprised to find not one, but two Marshals of the Riddermark, in residence."
"May I present Daeron Adamarion, Guardian of the Woodland Realm, My Lords." Haldir made the introductions. "This is Lord Léod, Marshall of the Wold, and this is Lord Déor, First Marshal of the Riddermark."
"My Lords," Daeron formally saluted them, after which Déor spoke.
"You are the Elf who led the efforts in the Plague?"
"It was a combined effort, My Lord, and many deserve the credit."
"Perhaps, but it has been your name that has reached my ears, and that of my kinsman," Marshal Déor told him.
The First Marshal of the Mark, second in command only to the King, was tall and powerful, as most of the Rohirrim. His long, thick straw-colored hair fell past his shoulders and his face was grim and ruddy from experience and discipline, but there was an inherent wisdom in his countenance, and strength in his eyes.
"You might be interested to know that Plague swept far past the Wold, and into my own house. Fortunately, by that time, word also came of your methods for treatment and that saved my son Éomund's life, and kept the disaster from spreading." [1]
"Is your son well?"
"Thank Béma, he is, as well as his nurse."
"Praise the Valar, My Lord. Was your wife afflicted?"
"She died when was born." Déor gave the Elf a sad smile. "I have also heard of your gifts in midwifery, and I mourn that I did not know of them sooner."
"You have my condolences, My Lord." And Daeron meant it.
"At any rate," Léod said, "You and your kinsman have worked tirelessly to save our people, and we owe you a great debt. We will continue to report to Lord Celeborn as to the continuing efforts at prevention."
"I am afraid I cannot take credit for Variolation procedures, My Lords. That must be given to Lord Elrond of Rivendell, for including this in his books, but ultimately, we must thank the Easterlings themselves, who had been practicing this for many years."
"Really?" The Marshals sat back, surprised.
"I can show you the passage if you wish, and may I suggest that the praise of such ingenuity might… ease tensions between the Harad and the Rohirrim, should you meet in the future?"
The First Marshal stroked his beard thoughtfully. "You may be onto something."
"It is felt by all three Kings in the North, My Lords, that we must sow the seeds of fellowship and cooperation as best we can. Of course, My King and his Consort are eager to see these victims returned to their homeland for their own sake, but if we can help to establish some sort of trust with the Easterlings, they will be less apt to be seduced by the Evil One, and to fight against us. It is a slim chance, to be sure, but the Three Kings feel it is a chance worth taking."
Déor spoke to Haldir. "Léod tells me the Elves insist that the rescued children be taken to the Golden Wood. Why?"
"May I answer that, My Lord?" Daeron offered, with a look of deference to Haldir.
"Of course, if you know more of this than the Marchwarden, here."
"As we speak, there are a small band of refugees in Dale, under the protection of all three Kingdoms. I have received letters from the Healers there that the children feel safer among the Elves, and even the Dwarves, as our races are not capable of the types of... things that some evil Men choose to partake in. No offense to present company, of course."
"None taken." Déor nodded.
"The children have visibly relaxed and are speaking more around the Elves, and are recovering from their heinous trauma. Elves can minister to them in ways that Men cannot, and frankly, My Lords, they need the help."
Léod turned to the First Marshal. "He's right, My Lord. We're only equipped to dispose of those bastards, and get back to our own fields. We're still behind with the planting and such from the Plague and we don't have the means to help these kids."
"I agree. It shall be done as you say, and we will leave the return of the children to you, provided the Easterlings are fully aware of our cooperative efforts."
Haldir bowed. "You have my word."
"There is also the matter of payment," Déor said. "Are you Elves expecting remuneration for your efforts on behalf of our people in the Plague, or for rescuing human children? Neither of these things are of concern to Elves. What do you want from all this?"
"On behalf of my Lord and Lady, I am authorized to inform you that we expect very little, except to foster better relations with our neighboring countries. I do not know if Mithrandir has been to see your King recently, but – "
"I do not know," Déor said, carefully, "though when an old man dressed in grey came to see me, I suggested he visit Edoras." He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table, "I will not dishonor to my house by speaking against my king, you understand, but I recall that this 'stranger' to say about recent and future events, if you get my meaning."
"I do," Haldir nodded. "And I will pay you the courtesy of not asking if this current mission is sanctioned by your King."
"'Mission?' What mission?" Déor, smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't expect to hear of any such mission until two months from now, when an official report is sent to me. And when such a report comes, I will, of course, applaud the Marshal of the Wold for his initiative in dealing with these criminals, and for coordinating these rescue efforts." The First Marshal raised his eyebrows. "And the fact that a bunch of Elves happenedto show up at the same time," He grinned, "was a fortunate… coincidence?"
"Fortunate indeed. May the Valar bless our effort." The Marchwarden became serious. "I have heard many good things about Prince Thengel, My Lord.2 May his reign be blessed."
"From your mouth to Béma's ears." Déor said. "Right; I'll leave you to it. And remember," he gave everyone a pointed look, "I wasneverhere."
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City of Dale 29ndof May 2943 T.A.
Things were falling into place.
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"These Dale folks don't give their trust easily," Tim had told them, when they first arrived. "You've got to be careful, or they'll know something's up. Especially with those Elves; they can sniff out trouble sooner than anyone."
Since the Handyman's arrival, he had been carefully cultivating a romantic relationship with a young, impressionable kitchen maid at the Castle who loved to gossip, so by the time The Boss and the rest arrived, it was remarkably easy to learn what he needed to know.
When they arrived, The Boss and his crew did some careful cultivating of their own. By day, they worked in the fields, and in the evenings, ingratiated themselves to all the townsfolk they met, and gave no one reason to doubt their word. Folks in Dale knew him as Jarod, and the men started to wave greetings and the ladies simpered, as he grinned rakishly and kissed their hands. Most nights would find them in the taverns joining in the fun and making friends over a pint of ale or two, and it had taken a while, but they were soon accepted by the Dale folk, who had no idea they would meet in Tim's apartment in the top floor and plan out his elaborate scheme of revenge.
The mercenaries he had hired had been paid well enough to keep their mouths shut and ask no questions. As added insurance, when they came to collect their advances, Harry casually mentioned the names of each man's family, and if there were sons, daughters, nieces or nephews, all the better to keep them from changing their minds.
He had them by the balls, and he knew it. If they failed, or were even captured, that man's family would suffer, and they knew it. Succeed or die.
Well, die anyway. The Boss doesn't ever leave loose ends. Or witnesses.
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Two weeks ago, he sent the order to attack that village in the South, and when the Elf King left, Jarod sent word to have the group of Harad men come from the East. They were now in the area and would be ready this afternoon.
And today was the day it was all going to come together, and he'd have his revenge. He'd lost a fortune, and an Empire that had taken years to build, and someonewas going to pay, and pay dearly.
He wasn't going to kill the King of Dale. He was going to destroy everything the King of Dale loved, and if that Fucking Elf suffered too, all the better.
Today.
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Three hours before...
"Hello, there, Jarod, Harry," the owner of the Livery came out to greet the men as he wiped his hands on a rag.
"Afternoon, Daffyd. Did you get our wagon fixed yet?"
"We did. That wheel was in pretty bad shape. I'm glad you brought it in when you did; it wouldn't have lasted but a few more miles. I've seen a lot of these covered wagons over the years, but these ones are nicely made up."
"Well, I tell you, Daffyd," The Boss told him with a smile. "We spend a lot of time traveling from place to place to work crops and it sure beats setting up a camp every night hand sleeping in the cold, doesn't it?"
"Oh, aye! You'd be out of the wind and rain, plus you don't have to worry about wild animals bugging you at night, do ya?"
"Nope," Harry shook his head, and gave the Livery owner a big, friendly smile. "Hey, Daffyd, can you do us a favor? Jarod and I can't come get the wagon till after our horses are done working for the day. Do you mind keeping it here until this evening around suppertime? We'll pay you now, of course."
"Not a problem." Daffyd took their coin and pocketed it. "We'll leave it outside, so just come and get it whenever. My son, Powell lives just upstairs, so if you have a problem, knock on his door and he'll come down to help you get the horses hitched up, all right?"
"Sure thing. Thanks again," The Boss and Harry waved at him and made their way through the city streets and back out in the fields, to await the signals that all was in place and their attack would begin.
Today was the day. It was all coming together, and it was going to be spectacular.
Two hours later, the horses were brought into the city, hitched to the covered wagon, and taken to the apartment house where the crew had been staying.
"Are they here?" The Boss opened the back door to the wagon and saw two small, unconscious bodies there. Good.
"Snatched this afternoon, on their way home from school. Piece of cake," one of his men said, waving his cloth and the bottle of ether. "Out like a light, and not a peep out of them."
"What about the Blacksmith?"
"Dead."
"And the woman?"
"She's been 'persuaded' to cooperate, so her children will live." The man assured him, then added a bit warily. "Boss? I think you should know, the Elf King came back with those blonde archers just now."
Shit!
He whirled around and grabbed Tim's shirt, with an accusing glare. "You told me he wasn't coming for three more days, you fucking bastard!"
Tim raised his hands in protest. "That's what the kitchen maid told me, Boss, I swear! That's what everyone was saying!"
The Boss grinned, whipped out a knife and stabbed him in the gut, then twisted it with an evil grin, as Tim's eyes opened wide with shock. as he collapsed on the floor in agony. Then "Jarod" nonchalantly wipe the blade of his knife on Tim's shirt and put it away.
It was no big loss. Tim was a loose end he'd planned to kill anyway. The fact that he'd outlived his usefulness a few hours earlier didn't make much difference to him.
"You," he pointed to one of the other men who was staring down at Tim's body.
"Y-yes, sir?" the man croaked.
The Boss grabbed Tim's hand mirror of the windowsill and thrust it at him. "You'll stay here, and watch the East Gate. As soon as we leave the City, send the signals through that window," he pointed to the North. Wait a half-hour, then signal to the East. As soon as you've done that, meet the rest of the men downstairs and take the fucking Orphanage or whatever the fuck they call it. If you can't take the kids, slit their throats, and kill everybody who stands in your way."
Today was the day, and The Boss wasn't about to let that blonde Elf ruin his careful plans.
Today was the day.
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City of Dale, 29thof May 2943 T.A.
It had been a quiet afternoon, and Bard was enjoying it.
Thranduil had been called away, but a bird arrived with a message saying he would be arrive late this afternoon.
It was serendipitous, really, because everyone in the Corridor had other plans, which meant Bard could finally have some alone time with his Elf!
The spring in Dale this year was wonderful. Yesterday he had handed the keys to their Hunting Lodge to Percy, and saw them off for a mini-break. Hilda had been looking a bit ragged around the edges, and when Bard offered the use of the cottage, Percy dragged Hilda away from work (kicking and screaming, of course).
The fields had been planted with great success, thanks to the extra farm workers. As soon as the weather thawed, several of the Dale folk expressed a desire to travel to the Long Lake and return to their fisherman roots, so to speak.
The children from Harad had been doing well, at the Orphanage, and over the past two months, the Kings of the North received regular updates on the campaign to rid Rhovanion of this unspeakable criminal syndicate, and one by one, the network was being destroyed. yet his Elf couldn't shake the bad feeling he had.
The danger was passing, yet Thranduil had become increasingly cryptic these past few weeks. To be honest, his portents of doom was weighing on everyone in the family, especially when there was no clear evidence of anything wrong. Besides taking extra precautions, what could they do, really?
Then came the report that a group of Bandits had raided a village near the Eastern border to the Woodland Realm. The village was technically in the principality of Dorwinian, but Thranduil had been protecting it since the days of Garon the Founder, and he had to go.
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"I do not know why, Meleth nîn. I just… have a bad feeling, and I cannot shake it," he told Bard as he packed to leave for the Woodland Realm. "I do not wish to go, and if I could I – "
"Hey," Bard put his arms around Thranduil's waist. "Our marriage can't stop you from serving your Kingdom, Thranduil."
"I still would feel better if we could send the children to Erebor…"
"We can't do that, love. I know you're wary, and so am I, but I won't live in a cage, and neither can our children. If you're going to lock them away, you may as well never let them out again, because this world is full of danger."
"I pray you are right, Bard." Thranduil put his forehead against Bard's and closed his eyes. "I will be back as quick as I can."
"Do what you need to do, love. Don't neglect your forest or your people, love; they need you, too."
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Ah. The familiar stirring in his fëa… His husband was near.
With a smile, capped his Ink, put his quill in its holder with the rest of them, and eagerly went out to meet his Elf.
He stepped out on the dais and waited for Thranduil and his escort to enter the courtyard. This time, he was accompanied by the Galadhrim who had finished another tour on the Woodland Realm, and were ready to resume their duties in the City.
"Mae de 'ovannen,Aran Thranduil," Bard formally saluted his husband.
The King of the Woodland Realm got off his horse and handed the reigns to one of the Guards in front of the Great Hall. "Mae de 'ovannen, Aran Bard," he returned the formal greeting and salute, then came up the steps and stood before the Bowman with a loving smile. "I have missed you," he whispered, and squeezed his hand.
"Me, too." Bard answered softly. "Dismiss the Wardens, then you can prove it."
"Your wish, is my command, My King." With a nod, Thranduil dismissed the Wardens with thanks, then followed Bard inside and into their Private Quarters.
"How did things go, love? Is everyone all right?"
Thranduil sighed. "It was a band of roughly seventy men. The Guardians managed to signal in plenty of time, and between the Elves and Men, they managed to deal with it, but not before several were killed." He gave Bard a sad look. "Three men, seven women and fourteen children were killed. Several others were missing when we arrived."
"Oh, gods…" Bard closed his eyes horror.
"We scoured the surrounding lands for many miles, found the bodies of the missing, and the rest of the bandits. I left Feren there, to finish up, and support the survivors. Galion is still at the Palace, so I do not expect him for a few days."
"Did you find out where these attackers came from, or what they wanted?"
"We wanted to keep at least one alive for questioning, but," Thranduil's face was troubled. "The leaders slit the throats of their own men and killed themselves. Only one survived, but not for long."
"That's… horrible." Bard felt an uneasy feeling in his stomach.
"It was. It was as if they were afraid to live, if they had failed!"
"Did that man talk at all?"
"He managed to say, 'The Boss, will kill my family,' but that tells us little, except that this...'Boss' is still out there, and he's deadlier than I can imagine. I had originally intended to wait and come with them, but…I… felt the need to be here." Thranduil looked up and down the Corridor at the quiet. "Where is everyone, Bard?"
"Hilda needed a rest, so they went to our Hunting Lodge for a couple of days, for some peace and quiet."
"Where are the children?" The Elvenking's voice was soft, but full of trepidation.
Bard tried to quell his growing nervousness. "The girls asked me the other day if they could go to Rhian's tonight for supper. Hannah will be there and Evan is keeping an eye on things for Ben."
"Where is Ben?"
"He and Alun are at Erebor meeting with the Dwarves, and going over the plans for the Castle repairs. Since we've heightened the security around here, there hasn't been a hint of trouble, so I told them they could, but they had to have three guards. Ben had asked Evan to keep an eye out for his daughter and grandson, until he gets back late tonight."
"Who is guarding our daughters?" Thranduil asked, as his eyes grew wide.
"Ivran, Ruvyn, and Meldon are posted at Rhian's house, and Tauriel and Turamarth are riding with the three boys around Hope Field."
"Outside the City Walls?" The Elvenking's face went white. "Rhaich, Bard! Penin estel?Why would you allow this, knowing how worried I have been?" he grabbed Bard's arms and demanded through gritted teeth. "Am man agóreg?"
"The attack on the village was what you had predicted, wasn't it? Wasn't thatwhat you've been afraid of?"
Thranduil tried to calm himself. "That is why I came back, Bard. Because the feeling did not leave me, and I had to come…"
"What?" Bard's growing fear made him angry. "What the bloody fuck is it?"He yelled. "You've been acting like the world is about to fall apart for over a month, dammit! The kids have picked up on it, and they've been jumpy and upset for weeks because you can't seem to come up with answers! What more are we supposed to do, Thranduil? What? And for how long?"
The Elvenking shook his head and was about to reply, when one of the Guards posted in the Corridor came to them and saluted.
"My Lord Bard, a foreign party is seeking entrance to the North Gates. He claims he is the King of Harad, come to collect his children."
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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
Gwîb - Penis
Mae de 'ovannen, Aran Thranduil – Well met, King Thranduil
Mae de 'ovannen, Aran Bard – Well met, King Bard
Rhaich, Bard!– Curses, Bard!
Am man agóreg? – Why would you do that?
Penin estel? – Are you insane?
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NOTES:
[1] In my verse, Déor is the father of Éomund, who goes on to marry Theodwyn, sister of King Theoden, who gives birth to future King Éomer Éadig, and his sister Éowyn. Both of these siblings feature prominently in the War of the Ring.
[2] Fengel was a greedy and quarrelsome man, and Thengel left Rohan in his youth to live in Gondor, where he won great renown in the service of Turgon. Eventually he met and married Morwen Steelsheen of Lossarnach in 2943, and he lived with her there for a while. Morwen bore him five children in total, including his only son (his second child) Théoden in 2948 and a daughter Théodwyn in T.A. 2963, who would be the mother of Éomer and Éowyn. wiki/Fengel
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