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Chapter Thirty-Six
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SUMMARY: Our Kings are surprised at the Harad King's sudden appearance, and Thranduil is wary. For good reason, it turns out, as things get worse from there.
***TRIGGER WARNING: This gets gruesome and bloody, so if you're squeamish, be careful.***
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"Because when it comes to my offspring I will fight with the fangs of a wolf & claws of a dragon. And no one, or nothing will stop me from protecting them."
- Jordan Sarah Weatherhead, Naked Truth
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City of Dale, 29thof May 2943, T.A.
After their harsh words in the corridor, the Kings stood together on the dais under the archways of the Great Hall, avoiding each other's gaze, as they awaited the arrival of the King of Harad and his entourage. Mistress Adila had been sent for to serve as interpreter, and was standing off to their right, not meeting their eyes.
Thranduil sighed and tried to calm down. Something was very wrong, and if he could give a real answer as to why, he would do so; why couldn't Bard understand that?
"I'm sorry." Bard whispered to him.
"That you allowed our children to have some fun? That is nothing to be sorry about," Thranduil told him quietly, his fists clenched. "But for you to dismiss my apprehension, and possibly endanger their lives…"
"I've done no such thing, and you're a complete bastard to say something like that to me!" He hissed furiously. "What the bloody fuck was I supposed to do? Ship them off to the Mountain to live?"
He knew Bard had a point, but was he was too weary and angry to admit it. "I know we cannot lock them away—"
"No, we can't! Damn it, Thranduil! If I had any inkling of trouble, they'd be packed off to Dáin in no time, you know that!"
"I… "Thranduil shook his head slightly. "Let us just pray I have been wrong."
His eyes darted to Adila, but she either heard nothing of his terse exchange with Bard, or she was too preoccupied to notice. He decided the latter, as he took in her nervous stance, her eyes that looked not to the Courtyard, but to the ground beneath her feet. He also noticed the sheen of sweat above her lip.
"Are you well, Mistress?" Thranduil asked, but she did not seem to hear him. "Adila?"
"Yes?" she looked at him absentmindedly, clearly distracted.
Thangon left Bard's side and went over to lean his weight against Adila's leg, and he noticed her trembling fingers, as she rested her hand on his head.
"Bard," he whispered. "Something is not right with her. Thangon knows it, too."
Bard looked thoughtfully at his dog's behavior, and nodded.
Thranduil lifted a finger and signaled to Mablung, Feren's Second-in-Command, and gave instructions in rapid Sindarin: "I want a dozen guards sent here immediately. Locate all our children and take them to King Dain. Say nothing, do not salute, but go now!"
The Lt. Commander silently stepped back and was gone.
"What do you want to do?"
"Follow my lead," Thranduil said quietly, then before he could stop himself, added, "and trust me, this time!"
Bard looked at him with hurt, then fury. "How dare you act like you're the only one who wants them to be safe? How fucking dare you?"
Thranduil closed his eyes in consternation. "Bard, I—"
"I'm done talking to you about this." Bard hissed, just as the Elven escort accompanied the Harad party into the Courtyard. They were astride sleek black horses, with saddles and bridles decorated with colorful tassels. The King was sitting ramrod straight in the saddle, with an unmistakable arrogance of a man who is used to giving orders, and others following them without question.
"I bid you welcome to Dale, Your Illustrious Majesty. You have come much earlier than we expected, so please forgive our lack of preparation." Bard bowed, keeping eye contact with the King, as he touched his forehead, his mouth and his heart.
"Yemisigana simachihuni, yemisit'īrawīwi li'uliwo."Adila translated, as she looked at the ground.
The darker man returned the gesture, and seemed outwardly friendly. "Āmeseginalehu."
"His Majesty wishes to express his thanks."
Bard gestured toward the Great Hall. "You must be tired and thirsty after your long ride. Come, enjoy some refreshments while I tell you about our efforts to care for your children."
Adila repeated this in Haradhish, the party turned to go inside, but not before Thranduil quietly whispered some instructions in Sindarin to an Elf stationed outside.
Thangon had carefully put himself between Adila and the rest of the Harad Party, while Thranduil made a point to place himself between the Harad King and Bard. He motioned for his Elven Guards to flank them, as they walked into the building, and Thranduil double-checked to make sure the doors to the back door were closed and guarded. Good.
The party sat down and attempts were made to get acquainted. Bard gave the Haradhrim details of the children's stay, but it seemed odd that they seemed uninterested in their progress or welfare.
"We have made arrangements for your stay at one of our guest houses, Your Majesty. Our Guards will be happy to escort you there, so you might get some rest, then tomorrow, I will take you on a tour of the facilities, so you can meet the children. They have been looking forward to showing you their accomplishments while we have fostered them."
King Abdullon spoke rapidly to Adila.
The woman turned to Bard and Thranduil. "His Majesty thanks you for your kind hospitality, but would appreciate it if you could prepare the children for departure and have them brought to the Castle immediately."
Bard was taken aback. "But can't he wait one day? Doesn't he want to at least visit the children first?"
Adila swallowed and averted her eyes. "His Majesty does not wish to travel during the summer months, My Lord."
And that's when they knew. This man made no reference to his earlier message stating the King of Harad would not even be here until the end of June. And Adila did not give her King the traditional greeting of prostrating herself before him.
And not once did she refer to him as "His Illustrious Majesty."
"Tirith," Never changing expression, Thranduil kept his eyes on the Harad King and spoke quietly in Sindarin, "Gadas; Savo chûr an dagor. Si!"
As one, the Elven Guards drew their swords and grabbed their counterparts, just as the King of Harad grabbed Adila, and held a knife to her throat.
"Let them go!" he said, in perfect Westron. "Let them go, or I'll kill her; I swear!"
"Please!" Adila sobbed, as she grabbed at his arms and scrabbled for a foot hold. "Do as he says! They've taken my children!"
"Shut up, bitch!"
"Leithio din," Thranduil raised his hand, and the Elves released the men.
"Good lads," the Impostor said. "Now, throw down your weapons. Do it now, or she's dead and so is what's left of her family."
The Elvenking nodded, and it was done.
Adila whimpered as the Impostor grabbed her tighter, and started dragging her backwards toward the door. "Please don't hurt my children! I'll do anything you want!"
"I said, shut the fuck up!" he smacked her hard in the face with the butt of his knife. She cried in pain and blood gushed from her nose.
"What do you want?" Bard demanded.
"You're going to hand over those kids and let us leave the City without any trouble or this woman and her children are dead! You got that?" And he yanked her back, toward the double-doors.
"Wait!" Bard jumped forward. "Look, take me, instead! I'm a more valuable hostage, anyway. Let her and her children go, and I'll go with you."
"Bard –" Thranduil began.
The Imposter shook his head with a laugh. "Oh, no. The Boss has plans for you, and I wouldn't dream of spoiling his fun!" He jerked Adila up again, and she screamed. "Now, open those fucking doors!"
Thranduil's stomach flipped. The Boss? Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Bard noticed it too.
Oh no…
The Imposter's men went through the doors, with the Elves and Bard following them at a distance. Thangon was in the front, his body lowered almost to a crawling position, with a menacing growl.
"You'd better call that fucking dog off, or this Lady loses her head, do you hear me?"
"Hautë, Thangon!"Bard ordered.
The dog stopped growling, but still moved ahead, carefully.
Please… let them be there,Thranduil prayed. Please… Dhen iallon, Eru Ilúvatar…
They were all on the dais, still moving backward when Thranduil and Bard heard a quiet whistle…
In an instant, several Elves jumped from their hiding places behind the archways, and seized the men and their weapons. Mablung grabbed the 'King's' arm and pulled it away from Adila so hard everyone could hear it break. Adila fell to the ground in a sobbing, bloody heap, just as Thangon jumped over her huddled body. His front paws landed on the Impostor's shoulders, knocking him down. Before anyone could blink, the giant dog had him by the throat, and snapped his neck with a vicious shake of his jaws.
The Impostor-King of Harad was dead before his body hit the ground.
Bard rushed forward and grabbed Adila. "Are you all right?" He grabbed a kerchief from his pocket and tried to stop the flow of blood from her nose. "What happened?"
"I was waiting for the children to come home from school," Adila gasped tearfully, "Bron was at the Forge in the back and…. they k-killed him!" She sobbed. "They murdered my Bron, My Lord...".
"I'm so sorry," he put an arm around her shoulder. "I need you to tell us everything you remember. Can you do that?"
"T-They put this…rag over my mouth, and I passed out. When I woke up, they told me they had my children and if I didn't do exactly what they said, they would kill them, too!" Her words were followed by a cry of grief that hardly sounded human. Bard held her against his chest and looked up at the Elvenking in shock.
"Sound the Bells," Thranduil ordered, then asked Mablung, "Did any escape?"
"No, My Lord." The Elf answered, as the prisoners were being tied up.
Bard was holding Adila, and trying to stop the flow of blood from her face, when they heard the Alarm Bells go off, all over Dale, and his eyes met Thranduil's in shock and horror.
"Take Mistress Adila to the Healing House immediately, and send some troops to her house to attend to her husband. See if they've located the rest of our children."
"Yes, My Lord."
The Elvenking address the three other Elves. "Make haste to Lord Ben's house, and stay with them, until we send for them. Do not allow them to leave, for anyreason!" Then he turned to the Elves who had escorted the Harad party. "Get down to Hope Field and protect our children!"
"Right away, My Lord." And they, too were gone.
Thranduil turned the Man who had posed as Aide to the Impostor, grabbed him by the hair, dragged him back into the Great Hall and threw him into a chair in front of the table.
"Hold his hands down." He said, with a voice so low and full of venom, the Man nearly fainted.
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Hope Field, 29thof May 2943 T.A.
Tauriel and the children were cantering between the fields with Turamarth, when something pierced her peripheral vision to the left. She turned her head toward Dale, and saw a light blinking in one of the upper windows near the lower part of City.
What in the world was that?
She quickly brought her horse to a stop to find out what was going on, but as soon as she did so, she realized her mistake, as a dozen field workers, dropped their tools, picked up weapons and began to run towards them. Three of them had expertly nocked their arrows and took aim at them.
With a sudden scream, Bregolas, Bain's stallion reared on his hind legs. An arrow had hit the horse in the flank, just missing the boy's leg. Bain tried to stay on, but it was no use, and he was thrown. Bregolas fell to the ground, almost crushing Bain.
"Tur!" She screamed at the other Guard in Sindarin. "Send the boys to Erebor! Quickly! They are after the Prince!"
Quick as lightening, she yanked her bow from behind and began to shoot their attackers. There was at least a dozen of them, perhaps more, and she was picking them off as fast as she could, but too many were getting close…
Turamarth turned his horse from the head of the line and shouted orders in Quenyan to Bowen's and Rhys's horses. "Beratín! Vórima! Auta ten orofarnë! Auta! Noro lim! Ego! Ego! Ego!"
Instantly the horses took off like the wind toward the Lonely Mountain, with the boys hanging on for dear life. Turamarth reached Bain, leaped down from Sandastan and just about threw the boy into his saddle.
"Keep down! Draw your sword, Bain, and do not be afraid to use it!" Turamarth yanked his sword out of its scabbard. "Tell the Dwarves to sound the Alarm! Go Bain, Go!"
"But what about you?" the boy asked.
"There is no time to argue!" He smacked the horse hard on the withers. "Auta, Sandastan! Ego! Auta!
Quickly the Guardian raced over to the the large group of men who were trying to chase the boys as Tauriel, who was still astride Lasbelin, ran to face the rest of them. Once she was near, she jumped from the saddle, landed with a somersault on her feet with her knives at the ready, and snapped an arrow aimed for her in half. With a blood-curdling yell, she took on the three men who were surrounding her and quickly dispatched with them, as blood and body parts when flying.
Within ten minutes, Tauriel and Tur were standing in the bloodied field, surrounded by the bodies of at least fifteen men. There was a cut on Tauriel's face and her left arm, but she was otherwise unharmed. Turamarth had been stabbed in the leg and was limping a bit, but the wound wasn't too deep.
"Are there any left alive?" she panted.
"I do not know…" Turamarth carefully stepped among them, then grabbed one of the men, and after quickly disarming him, lifted him up by his shirt. "I found one! He was trying to play dead."
"Good! We'll take that one to the King for questioning."
The blonde man was bleeding from a superficial wound to the arm and leg, and struggled mightily against Turamarth, as several men on horseback rode up to them and the Elves immediately raised their weapons.
"What in Mordor happened here?" the older man demanded.
Tauriel didn't answer. She looked toward Erebor and saw the three horses, carrying the Crown Prince and his friends reach the entrance to the Lonely Mountain.
"They tried to assassinate the Crown Prince and Lady Tauriel." Turamarth answered the Farmer. His sword was still at the ready. "Convince me that you are not one of them, and I will let you live."
"Whoa! Whoa! We've come to help! I'm Jarvis, the owner of this farm, and these are my sons."
"Holy shit!" the man next to Jarvis said. "It's those guys to came to town last month to help with the planting! You mean-–"
"Who is this man?" Turamarth shook the one still alive, who was struggling to get away, despite his wounds.
"That's Monty. Or at least that's what he said his name was. And they were trying kill Lord Bain?" The farmer's son spit at the prisoner. "You fucking aresehole; I want to kill you myself!"
"No!" Tauriel ordered. "Master Jarvis, you will help us identify all the men from that group, then you will accompany us to see the King."
"You bet." Jarvis nodded to the others. "Judd, go back to the house and get all the payroll records for those men and their reference letters." The farmer gave Monty a furious look. "The rest of you, see if anyone else is alive, tie them up, and see to htheir wounds. Don't you let these sonofabitches die!"
Instantly Judd turned his horse around. "Yes, Da!" He took off toward the farmhouse, and the others ran over and took charge of their prisoner.
"Tauriel?" Tur walked over to stand beside her "Where's your horse?"
She didn't answer, but looked toward the City.
"Man te?" he whispered in Sindarin.
"This was too easy," Tauriel said, suddenly.
"What in blazes do you mean, My Lady?" Jarvis was incredulous, as he looked down at all the dead bodies. "Look around you, lass!"
"These men attacked when they were given a signal from Dale. I saw the reflections from that building. There is more to this than we know."
Then they heard the Alarm bells go off in Dale.
"Ai gorgor…" Turamarth met Tauriel's eyes in horror. "Was all this just a diversion?"
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The Great Hall, City of Dale, 29thof May 2943 T.A.
Bard swallowed, as he watched his husband hover over the Impostor-Aide, while the Captain and Rúmil held him down over the table.
Thranduil had been transformed into the same terrifying, ruthless warrior he remembered from the Battle of the Five Armies, and though he seemed a stranger to him at this moment, Bard was grateful for it.
"Now," Thranduil said, casually, as he pulled out his knife, and ran his fingers along the edge, to check the blade. "I am going to remove your fingers, slice by slice, until you tell me what I need to know."
The man spit at him, but then quickly screamed as the Elvenking's knife slammed down and chopped off the end of his pinky.
"You know… If I take them off at the tips, where all the nerve endings are, it will hurt much worse. What do you think, Lord Bard?"
"Works for me." Bard's lip curled. "When he's done with your fingers, your ears, your nose, and your cock are going to be sliced off like a loaf of bread. Now: why are you here, and who the bloody fuck is this 'Boss?'"
"I don't kn- AH!" the man screamed again, as he lost another fingertip.
"Wrong answer, I think." The Elf tilted his head. "Shall we try again?"
"H-he is here…" The man whimpered.
"The Boss is here? What is his name?"
"He'll kill me!"
Thranduil shrugged. "You are going to die anyway, it is just a matter of how long I can draw it out." Off came another fingertip, and there was more screaming. "Now, let us try again. You have killed Mistress Adila's husband and taken her children? Why?"
The Impostors teeth began to chatter from the shock. "He – The Boss – wants his property back."
"Property? What property?"
"The ch-children from the brothel!" The man panted. "He said he wants them back!"
"Who is your Boss? What is his name?"
"I d-don't know, but he's with Tim and Harry!" the man quickly answered, as the Elf's knife was ready to strike again.
"Tim?" Bard went pale. "Oh, holy shit… That handyman…"
"MY LORD!" Two Elven Guards burst through the doors of the Great Hall, "The Orphanage has been attacked. Two dozen men tried to storm the building –"
"Are the children safe?"
"They are now, My Lord. We stopped them, and the children are locked in and we have doubled the guard."
"How many dead?" Thranduil didn't take his eyes off his prisoner.
"Fourteen of theirs, several of ours have been injured," Gerion, Rúmil's Second-in-Command, stepped up and spoke. "but, My Lord, they… tried to evade capture by turning their weapons on themselves…"
Oh, gods… Bard and Thranduil's eyes met. "That's what the bandits did in the raid on that village..." he screamed at the Imposter, "What the bloody fuck is going on here?"
Thranduil continued to stare at the prisoner, with narrowed eyes, as the Bells continued to ring.
Thranduil pointed his dirk into the prisoner's throat. "Where is he?"
"You're too late!" the phony King of Harad was shaking from the pain.
With gritted teeth, the Elvenking chopped off two pieces of the man's fingers. "Stop playing games! Tell us what you know!"
Just then, two more Elves came running into Hall.
"Lord Thranduil! Lord Ben's house was attacked! The Princesses and Lady Rhian have been kidnapped!"
As the Kings absorbed that news, their attention was turned back to the 'Aide,' who suddenly broke out in a hysterical, shaky laugh. "They were gone before I even came through the gates. You're too late!" The man sneered, as saliva dripped from the side of his mouth. "You w-want to know where The Boss is? Find your kids. If you want what's left of them, that is!"
Before Bard had chance to lurch at the man, Thranduil let out a blood-curdling roar, yanked out his sword and cut the man's head clean off, with such a force that it went flying, then roll all the way across the floor. As if in a dream, Bard watched it roll, and when it finally stopped along the opposite wall, and the sneer was frozen forever on its face.
"Dispose of that mess," he ordered two Guards of the lower rank. "Send a dozen troops to our Hunting Lodge and make sure Lord Percy and Lady Hilda get back here safely. Get a message to the Palace. I want Feren and as many soldiers has he can muster to clear the forests between here and the Palace at once!"
Thranduil grabbed Bard's arm and made sure he had his sword. "The rest of you, let's go!"
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Ruvyn had been guarding the back door of Lord Ben's house when he heard a strange noise behind the high, stone wall at the far end of the Garden. He had drawn his sword and had gone to investigate, when suddenly two armed men jumped over the wall, and engaged him, but a hand grabbed him from behind, then his mouth and nose were covered with a cloth, full of strange fumes, then everything went black.
He couldn't have been unconscious very long, because he heard whispering, and the stomping of horses. He quickly assessed himself for injuries, and realized his upper left arm had been cut, but not too badly, so he grabbed his kerchief and with his teeth, managed a rough bandage. Then he crawled through the bushes around to the side of the house, where they had backed up a large, covered wagon.
There were eight of them total, and he froze in horror, he saw them carry the sleeping (Please, Valar, let them just be sleeping!) bodies out the side window, and into the back of the wagon. As soon as they were loaded, one of them – their leader, he thought – shut the door, locked it and addressed four of them who had been standing there with bows and arrows.
"You lot go down to the fields and help the others get the Prince and that redheaded Elf. We're off."
"Yes, Boss," they said and left.
Which now left four of them.
Ruvyn quickly took stock. He was just too woozy to fight, and they had taken all his weapons, even the throwing knives in his boot, but he had to do something…
Just as they shut in the back of the wagon, and made ready, he crawled underneath it and hung on to the undercarriage as the vehicle began to move.
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Rocking… rocking…. They were rocking in Da's boat…. The water must be rough on the Lake today…
Sigrid tried to open her eyes, but she was lured back to sleep by dreams of her rooms at the Palace with its white, smooth walls and wooden vines carved along the ceiling.
She was in her feather bed at the Palace in her party dress and tiara that Da and Ada had given her. No. She wasn't in bed. She was swaying in Ada's arms and they were dancing across the patterns of inlaid wood on the floor of the Dining Hall…
"Iellig, it is a privilege to dance with the loveliest girl here." Ada said, and he kissed her brow, then swung her around and suddenly they were dancing in snow and her skirts were kicking up giant snowflakes flew up to the sky and became stars.
"I love you, Ada," she smiled up at him.
"I love you, Sigrid," she heard a voice say, but it wasn't Ada. It was her mother, who was wearing the blue dress from her portrait…
A jarring bump, and the vision vanished, and Sigrid found herself in darkness. With a groan, she sat up.
"Oh, thank the Valar," Hannah said, tearfully. "I wasn't sure if you were going to wake up."
There was Rhian and Hannah across from her, each holding and comforting one of Mistress Adila's children.
"Where are we? What's happening?" She looked around, and saw her sister, still asleep. Someone had covered her with a blanket, and placed a pillow under her head.
"Tilda?" she shook her younger sister, but the little girl did not stir. "Tilda?"
"I've been checking and she's still breathing."
"What happened?" Sigrid asked again, but then she stopped. "Oh…" she whispered, as flashes of memory reached through the fog and slammed into her. "They… smashed in the windows and the doors…"
Rhian said nothing, but scrunched her eyes tight as the tears fell, and she held on to Adila's little girl even harder. No one dared mention baby Darryn, because no one dared even wonder what happened to him.
"What do they want?" Sigrid asked quietly. "Who would do this?" She laid down next to her sister and held her tight and put her ear on Tilda's chest to listen to her heart.
"I wish I knew," Hannah answered. "They haven't said a word."
"Who would hate us that much?" She wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, as she looked at her sister's face, and tried to pull herself together. Tilda's life depended on her, and she had to keep herself and her sister calm.
And the wagon - for a wagon it was (the kind that were seen parked out in Hope Field for months now. Had someone stolen it?) just kept moving and rocking, and they could hear the voices of the men talking. She looked up to her left, towards the front, and saw the silhouettes of three men in the large window in the front, with the light from the setting sun to the right of them.
Rhian and Hannah were both sitting on the narrow bed, on the other side of the wagon, and the door was to her right, but she had no doubt that was locked.
Right then…. Sigrid took stock of the situation: A window in the front, big enough for them to crawl through, but the two small, round ones on either side were only big enough to let in a little light. If the sun was to her right, they must be headed South, for all the good that knowledge did her. Even if she could escape, she'd never leave Tilda or the others behind. But maybe Rhian…
She crawled toward the front of the wagon and in the darkness, tried to feel along the front wall underneath the window. There was box seat with a lid, and when she lifted it, she found it empty, except for a couple more blankets. What were you expecting, weapons?She asked herself, as she took them out and handed them to the others.
"Here. We need to keep ourselves from going into shock. I know they don't smell great, but they'll do."
"Phew," Rhian made a face.
"Maybe they'll smell better, once they've aired out." Hannah said, hopefully. "Sigrid's right: we need to keep warm."
Once the box was empty, she felt around the bottom and sides. "Hang on a minute…" she whispered.
"Did you find something?" Rhian sat up and adjusted the child in her lap.
"There's some sort of trap door that opens out under the driver's seat. It must have been put there when the wagon was made, in case there's a fire or something."
Well, then we can get out! They're made to open from the inside, aren't they?"
Sigrid checked further, and felt indentations in the wood.
"They've taken out the latch," she whispered with a strangled voice.
"Oh, my gods…" Rhian sniffed.
They were trapped.
Sigrid pulled her sister into her lap and scooted into the corner. Tilda began to stir. "Sig? Where are we?" she whispered sleepily.
"Shh…" Sigrid stroked her head. "Just relax, Til. I've got you." She grabbed the extra blanket and wrapped it around both of them.
"I want Mam," Tilda murmured, quietly just as she had the day of the Battle.
"I know, Beanie, but Da and Ada will come get us real soon."
"I'm tired."
"Go back to sleep then. I'm here, and I'm not going to let anything happen to you." Sigrid rested her cheek on the top of Tilda's head and sang softly to her, and prayed Tilda would sleep through this, or there was no telling what could happen.
Please…
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Thranduil's heart was in his throat, as he and Bard reached Ben's house. He noticed bloodstains on the front porch, and it looked like a dead body had been dragged inside. Thangon had raced inside the house, whining, and several Guards were poking around outside, looking for clues.
"My Lords! In here!" A voice called to them from inside, and as they rushed inside, they saw a blood-stained sheet covering a body inside the foyer.
"Oh holy gods…" he heard Bard gasp under his breath.
They raced through the front hall, and Thranduil's heart skipped a beat when they found the house in utter chaos; the furniture was upended, and there was broken glass and pottery everywhere, which meant the women had put up quite a fight, but did they survive it?
Thranduil saw something under the dining table, which had been shoved against the wall, and kicked away the broken pieces of chair, and all the self-control he tried to muster, he couldn't help the sob that escaped his throat.
It was Charlotte, Tilda's doll.
"What the bloody fuck happened here?" Bard gritted his teeth and looked around.
"My Lord," a voice said weakly. "I tried…"
It was Ivran. He was sitting up against against the wall, supported by Rúmil, who was examining the arrow protruding from his stomach, and had several cuts on his arms, and a small one on his face.
Thranduil squatted down and looked him in the face. "Tell me what happened. Who is that?" he pointed to the covered body.
"It is Meldon." Ivran's teeth chattered and his voice was shaky. "We w-were by the front door, and arrows came from n-nowhere. He was shot in the throat, and I…" he looked down. "I managed to get into the house, but I… passed out, and when I woke up, they were gone." The Guard was near tears. "I am s-so sorry…"
"Where is Ruvyn?" Thranduil put a hand on the Guard's shoulder.
"I do not know. He was assigned to the back door."
The Elvenking looked up at a Guard. "Check the backyard. Now!"
"We did, My Lord. There is no sign of Ruvyn, but there is some blood by the garden wall. It is not much; most likely just a cut."
"Could he have tried to follow them?" Bard asked.
"I pray he has." Thranduil's eyes did not leave Ivran's injury. "I believe you must wait for the Healer, Mellon."
"I have been trying to control the bleeding," Rúmil told him. "He was shot in the liver, but the arrow did not puncture his intestines, which is a good sign."
Ivran began to shake and he was turning grey.
Bard tried to comfort him. "Just be still and let them help you, Ivran."
"We found this, My Lord." One of the Elves handed Thranduil a handkerchief.
He sniffed it, and took in the strong, smell. "I think I know what this is, but give it to Ermon when he gets here. Did someone send for him?"
Just as the words were uttered, Ermon raced with his bag, followed by an Assistant. "Who is the most injured?"
"I am f-fine," Ivran answered. "They put Evan in the Rhian's room."
The Healer looked at him intensely. "You are not fine, but I will deal with you in a moment."
"Where is Darryn?" Bard asked, suddenly. "Oh my gods…. Did they hurt the baby?"
"The child is in there, as well," Rúmil told them.
Ermon led the way with his bag, followed by the Kings. Evan was on the bed, and two Elves were bent over him.
"My Lords," the man tried to sit up and cried out in pain. His face was bloody and bruised, his shoulder looked like it had been dislocated and his upper leg was wrapped in a bloody bandage.
"Lie down, Man!" Ermon ordered as he walked to the bed. "This instant!" Once Evan's was prone, he lifted the lid of each eye. "Did you get knocked out?" he asked.
"He was unconscious and bleeding in front of the child's crib." One of the Elven Guards answered. "He just now woke up."
Thranduil came over and leaned over Evan. "Tell me everything you remember."
"We heard a quick yell outside, and they were coming in all the doors and windows at once… The girls screamed, and fought with them, but they held these cloths over their mouths, and they all passed out..." Evan closed his eyes. "I couldn't stop them..." A tear escaped from the corner of his eye.
Thranduil handed the strange-smelling kerchief to Ermon. "Is that what I think it is?"
Ermon sniffed. "Sweet oil of Vitriol.1 It is used by the world of Men, for surgery, and can knock a grown man out in seconds."
"Will it hurt the girls, do you think?" Bard asked.
"It will render them unconscious, to be sure, and this does not smell like they used a great deal of it, but I cannot know for certain."
"What about Tilda and her heart?"
Ermon sighed. "Perhaps, but it could also help her, My Lord." He gave the Kings a sympathetic look. "It would prevent prolonged anxiety, which is much more dangerous to her."
Bard closed his eyes. There is still hope. Hang on to the hope…. Hang on…
The Healer looked down at his patient, and examined his shoulder. "I am going to keep this, and use it when I put your shoulder back in."
"We need him to talk, first." Bard told him firmly. "I'm sorry, Evan, but every moment counts."
"I know." He was pale, but agreed. "Two of them grabbed Rhian, she screamed at me to go protect the baby. I didn't want to leave them…" Evan swallowed, "but when I saw one of them head for the nursery…"
"You did the right thing." Thranduil assured him. "Keep going."
"I heard more screaming behind me, then it was quiet... The man was about to grab Darryn... I don't know how long we fought, but suddenly one of them yelled "Harry, leave the brat! We've got what we came for!' Then he slammed me over the head with something hard and… everything went black." He looked at Bard. "They didn't take baby, did they? Is he all right?" Evan tried to sit up again and screamed when he moved his shoulder. "Oh, shit! Oh, shit, shit, shit! That hurts!" he sobbed. "Where's Darryn? Please... tell me they didn't hurt him!"
"No, he is fine. You saved him," Bard told him, just as Ermon held the kerchief over Evan's face and told him to inhale, Thranduil went into the next room where an Elf was holding the child, who had cried himself into exhaustion. Darryn's face was red and tear-streaked, but he laid his head on the Guard's shoulder and was sucking his thumb, between hiccups.
"Did you find any injuries?"
"Just some bruising on one of his arms, My Lord, but he seems otherwise unharmed."
When Darryn saw the Elvenking, the baby held out his arms and started to cry again. "Shh… You are safe, Adanneth…" He took the baby and tried to soothe him,"We will find your mother as soon as we can. Shh…"
When Thranduil carried Darryn into Rhian's room, Evan was still woozy from the whiff of the anesthesia, but Ermon had maneuvered his shoulder back in, with a minimum of pain, and the man was doing a little better.
"Oh, thank the stars!" Evan had tears in his eyes, and his face crumpled. "He's not hurt?"
"Only slightly bruised, but he is fine." Thranduil handed Darryn back to the Guard, then followed Ermon back out to administer to Ivran, who was still under Rúmil's care. He had been carefully lifted onto a litter, and laid flat, so the Healer could examine his wound.
"Find me another one of those arrows. Quick!" Ermon barked, as he listened to Ivran's heart. "You were wise not to try and pull it out, Warden. It might have killed him."
Within seconds, an arrow was brought in from the front of the house, and they could see the barbs at the base of the broad head tip.
"Rhaich!" The Healer cursed, and handed it back. "It does not appear poisoned, and that is good, but I must push the arrow through to the other side." He addressed the Kings. "If you need information, ask him now, because I am about to put him to sleep, to take him to the Healing House."
"Can you tell me anything else, Mellon nîn?" Thranduil asked, gently. "Anything? Was there anything strange going on in the street?"
"Yes. A covered w-wagon that the field workers used was p-parked down the street. I remember thinking it was odd to see one of them in the City…"
"That is enough," Ermon said. "He cannot take anymore." He put his hand on the Guard's forehead and administered the losta-luith.
Thranduil's eyes met Bard's in horror. Their children, and the others had undoubtedly been subdued and placed in that wagon. But to where?
Just then Thranduil's ears registered Thangon's loud whining and looked over in the corner of the room, where he had been frantically pawing at the overturned couch in the corner.
"Bard…" Thranduil called to his husband, and they got up and went to see.
Together, they lifted the couch away from the area, and Bard fell to his knees.
"Oh, dear Valar... No..."
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Just at that moment, a gust of wind blew through the broken windows and rippled across the black-and-white fur, like small waves. For a split-second, they were fooled into thinking her chest was rising to take a breath, but no. The wind died down, leaving her utterly still, and stretched out on her side. She looked like she often did when she relaxed in front of the fireplace in the Sitting Room most evenings, but the unnatural angle of her head told a different story.
To her last breath, Esta had tried to protect her Mistress.
Thangon raised his huge head and let out a long, mournful howl.
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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
Tirith – Guards
Gadas; Savo chûr an dagor. Si! -It is a trap; be ready for battle. Now!
Dhen iallon, Eru Ilúvatar… - I beg of you, Eru, Father of All…
Beratín! Vórima! Auta ten orofarnë! Auta! Auta! –(Quenya) Beratin! Vórima! Flee to the mountain dwelling! Flee! Flee!
Ego! Ego! - Go! Go!
Auta, Sandastan! – (Quenya) Flee, Sandastan!
Man te?– What is it?
Rúnë, Thangon! Serë!– (Quenya) Off, Thangon! Stay!
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NOTES:
[1] Medieval form of Ether. wiki/Diethyl_ether
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