Chapter Thirty-Seven
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SUMMARY: Once he pulls himself together, Bard learns just what lengths he would go to save his children and his people, and Dain and Dwalin lend a hand.
The girls wake up in the wagon, and Sigrid is worried about her little sister. They get some unexpected help, but there's only so much he can do…
Will it be enough? Can they get there in time?
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"The bravest are surely those who have the clearest vision of what is before them, glory and danger alike, and yet notwithstanding go out to meet it."
—Thucydides
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City of Dale, 29thof May 2943 T.A.
Bard stroked the soft feathery fur of Esta's coat. His throat tightened painfully, when he felt the cold stiffness of her body. He had hoped to adjust the dog's head to a position that didn't scream of her violent death, but her body was in full rigor, so that would have to wait. Even then, nothing could change the fact that their beloved pet was dead, and his children, his little girls had been taken...
...could already be dead...
...and it was his fault.
Did Tilda see them break Esta's neck before they threw her against the wall? Or was she already unconscious by then? He prayed Ermon was right, and if only Tilda could sleep through most of it, it might spare her weakened heart.
His beautiful, strong Sigrid would do her best to be brave, hold herself together like she always did, but she shouldn't have to bear the impossible burden of keeping her sister alive, or the horrible guilt if she could not.
Bard stood up and shook his head. "I did this..." he said quietly. "I let this happen, and they could be dead now, because of me."
"Bard, that's not true—" Thranduil's voice was shaking, and reached out for him, but the Bowman pulled away.
"Don't you get it? All of it has been one big setup!" he put his hands on his head, to try and contain this unthinkable reality, but it did no good."And Bain… Oh, Gods… What if something happened to Bain? They planned all of this, Thranduil! Everything! Was the attack on your village just a ploy to get you out of the City, so they could do all this?"
"I think so," Thranduil said quietly, staring down at Esta's body, then picked up a shawl that had been lying on the floor and covered her up. "They must have been tracking our movements for quite a while, and that must have been what I was sensing— Bard?"
But the Bowman wasn't there, and from outside the back door came the sounds of retching.
"Bard!"Thranduil dashed after him.
The Bowman was doubled over with one arm around his middle and another propping himself against the back of the house. He heaved and screamed and cursed and pounded his fist against the house, until his stomach was emptied, and still he pounded the stone wall, hoping the pain would somehow anchor his mind and stop it from spinning.
"Are you all right?" Thranduil reached for him.
"Don't fucking touch me! Aah!" Another cramp doubled him over, and his and he heaved again."
"Meleth nîn…"
"Don't! This is my fault!" Bard pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, to try and stop the tears of anguish and regret. "How could I be so fucking stupid?"
"Stop it, Bard!" Thranduil grabbed his shoulders and shook him, hard. "We cannot afford these thoughts right now! You must stop this!"
"I didn't—"
"Do you not see, Bard?" Thranduil held him tighter and said, in a fierce whisper, "This is what they want, to destroy us, to tear us apart! We cannot let them win, do you understand me? We cannot, and we will not!"
The Elf held Bard's face and put their foreheads together. "There will be a time to feel all of this, but it is not now. Not this day! We must put all our energy into finding them, do you understand? We will find them! Focus, Bard! Do it, now! Look at me!"
Bard made himself look into Thranduil's stormy grey eyes, and fought to get his breathing under control.
"In this moment," the Elf's whisper was fierce and determined, "we cannot be parents, we cannot be spouses." "We must be soldiers right now. We must be Kings! We will find them, do you understand? We will be strong, for their sake, Bard; we can do this for our children– we have to! Use that anger to focus! Do it!"
"We can do this," Bard's words were shaky. "We are Kings, today."
"We can, Bard, and we will not stop until our family is safe again."
"We will get them back, and I will kill every last one of those fucking bastards, even if I have to do it with my bare hands, I swear."
"Yes."
"I can do this." Bard said the words, anxiety started to seep out of him, and was replaced by a determination and anger that filled him with energy. He forced his voice to be firm and forceful. "I can do this."
"Yes, you can." Thranduil nodded. "We can."
Bard pulled away and stood up straight, threw back his shoulders, and set his jaw.
"Let's go get our family back."
I can do this...
When Bard and Thranduil ran back to the Castle, some Guards were cleaning up the Great Hall, and a blanket covered the body of the Imposter from Harad which had been placed on a litter.
"Where is Cook and the kitchen staff?" He asked on of the Guards holding a mop.
"In the back, My Lord. We have that whole area under heavy guard, and they are all confined to quarters until you give the all-clear."
"Good." Bard picked up the burlap bag that was sitting on top of the blanket. "Did you hear anything else about the Orphanage?"
"They are safe, My Lord. Dale is on complete lockdown, and the streets have been cleared. Mistress Adila is at the Healing House, but I am afraid her husband was found dead in their home, My Lord. There were signs of a struggle."
Bard cursed under his breath. "Where are Bain and the others?"
"We are still awaiting word—"
Just then an Elf raced into the Hall. "My Lord! The Prince and his party were attacked on Hope Field!"
"Oh, shit..." Bard's heart skipped a beat. "What happened?"
"The Prince and his friends were attacked by several of the traveling farm workers. Lady Tauriel and Lieutenant Turamarth managed to get the boys to safety at Erebor and dispatched the attackers. "They will remain there under King Dáin's orders."
"Are they all right?"
"Only minor injuries. Lord Dáin and Master Dwalin are on their way."
Bard allowed himself a momentary relief, and his shoulders sagged. At least Bain and Tauriel were safe...
I can do this...
Bard held the sack and went back outside, just in time to see King Dáin and Dwalin ride up on their ponies, followed by Farmer Jarvis on his horse.
The King Under the Mountain didn't bother with any niceties. "They're all safe an' sound in the Mountain, an' I made Tauriel stay with 'em, though the lass put up a real fight abou' it."
"Thank you, Mellon."Thranduil said gratefully.
"Aye well, if they're targetin' the Royals I'm no' gonna take chances. Tur an' Farmer's lads 'ave a prisoner, an' they'll be along shortly."
Bard nodded then turned to the Elven Guard. "Have them take the prisoner to the Dungeons, then send them to help clear the City. Keep everyone on lockdown until every nook and cranny and house in Dale is checked."
"Yes, My Lord."
"I can help with that, My Lord." Jarvis reached into his Bag and pulled out some papers. "I've got a list of names of the field workers. I can't speak to any others, but at least you've got a good start."
"We do, thanks. Take those names and go find Constable Tom."
"Right away, My Lord." And Jarvis was off.
I can do this...
Bard turned to the Dwarves. "The girls and several others have been kidnapped from Ben's house. They've killed Mistress Adila's husband and taken her kids, too."
"Holy feckin' gods…" Dwalin spat. "Those bastards…"
"Do ye ken where they'd take 'em?" Dáin asked, angrily.
"We're about to find out." Bard said in a grim voice. "Come with me."
Bard and Thranduil filled the Dwarves in what they knew so far, as they headed toward the Northeast Tower, and they made their way down the long, narrow circular staircase and into the Dungeons, where the captured prisoners had been kept.
"I think this 'Boss' made sure only a few knew the entire plan, so we need to smoke out the leaders," Bard told them.
"I agree." Thranduil said.
" 'ow ye gonna do that?"
"With this," Bard held up the bloodied burlap. "Follow my lead and watch the men carefully. I'm going to show them something, and I want you see who they all look at."
"Wha's in tha' sack?" Dwalin asked him, pointing to the bloodstained burlap in Bard's hand.
"Something to motivate them. Just watch their faces."
When they reached the bottom of the staircase, they went through the torchlit hall to the largest cell on the end of the block. A chair with a small table had been set up in front of the cell, ready for them.
Bard stood before them, opened the sack and yanked the 'Aide's' severed head out by its hair. Some of the men gasped, and he could feel the tension in the Dwarves beside him, and heard Dáin mumble something under his breath. After holding it aloft for a few seconds, so they all could see the sneer frozen on its face, he tossed it at them, without a word.
Most of the men stepped back without thinking, but there were a few who did not.
Then Bard grabbed the bottom of the burlap bag, and viciously shook the sack so that the men behind the bars were showered with bloody finger parts. And all but two flinched: a man with dark hair and eyes, and one with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes.
Then the King of Dale stepped towards the cell and narrowed his eyes at dark-haired man who refused to look away and had his arms crossed with a hateful smirk on his face.
"That one." He said, without taking his eyes off the man. "We're going to start with him, and when we're done, we'll go on to this other one, but first, I want to introduce you all to my friend, here," Bard gave them an angry smile. "Thangon, Cronhë!"
At the command, the giant dog threw himself against the bars with a deafening snarls and bared teeth, making even the dark-haired man flinch.
"Looks like we're gonna 'ave some fun, lads!" Dáin laughed, then used his red axe to point to the man. "You heard the man; get 'im out o' there, and be quick about it!"
Two Elven Guards retrieved the man in question, and dragged him to the chair and forced his hands on the table.
"I'm not going to tell you anything." The man's lip curled at Bard.
"Oh, I know you're not going to tell me," Bard said coolly, "But you are going to tell him." He pointed with his thumb to Dwalin who grinned as he walked toward them and set two spikes and several knives on the table in front of him, then cracked his knuckles.
The man swallowed.
The tall Dwarf leaned down into the man's face and said in a low, menacing voice. "Make no mistake, laddie, we're gonna to find out everythin' we need to know, or I'll skin you, inch by feckin' inch while all your mates here, watch. You made the mistake of your life, thinkin' you can put your hands on those wee bairns, and now yer gonna pay, you feckin' piece o' horseshit! I've got all night, how 'bout you? Hold 'im, lads!" He rubbed his hands together with a grin. "I'm gonna enjoy this!"
The Kings stepped back, and let the Dwarves get to work.
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Forest in the South of Dale
By the time the wagon finally stopped, Ruvyn had lost feeling in his hands and feet from gripping the undercarriage, but he didn't dare move yet.
The brakes had been set and the men were climbing down from their seats high in front and from the back end. Feet landed with a thump on the ground boots were walking around the vehicle, and the men were discussing plans amongst themselves.
"Unhitch the horses, and put them with the others, at the edge of the clearing."
"What then, Boss?"
"We wait."
Over the noise of that activity, the Guardian heard the voices of the women talking and trying to soothe the children.
He listened carefully, and could make out all their voices but Tilda. For a second, he thought she might not be alive, but no. Sigrid's voice was soothing…. If her sister were dead, she would be crying, would she not? He thought about tapping the bottom of the wagon to let them know he was there, decided he didn't dare risk it. If one of children cried out, it could get them all killed.
Ruvyn carefully let go, landed flat on his back in the grass, and forced himself to keep silent while hot needles flooded his hands and feet as blood began to circulate. He gritted his teeth as he wiggled his fingers and toes, to hasten the process.
The cut on his arm hurt badly, but he checked the wound. It would need stitches, but at least it had stopped bleeding. He used his teeth to re-tie his kerchief around his arm, and tried to get his bearings.
They must have traveled about five miles out of the City before he heard the alarm bells sound, so they probably had no idea they were even taken until it was too late. They had traveled on the road for some distance, at a carefully casual pace, to keep from alerting any Guardians, who would think nothing of such a vehicle as they passed through quite frequently. Thesewagons had carried those traveling farm workers, who arrived six or seven weeks ago, and they all had seemed gregarious and friendly. He'd had drinks with many of them in the Pub; how had he played Darts or rolled Dice with them?
Three Men rode on the wagon, but it appeared that two had been waiting for them, and had been sitting around a campfire. Five in all, and his heart sank; he couldn't take them all on, especially not without weapons, and an injury. At best, he'd subdue a couple of them, but it wouldn't prevent the others from going for the wagon to kill the passengers. More likely, they would threaten to kill one of them, until he surrendered, and there would be no use in that.
The sun had set, but the sky was clear, and the moon was full and bright. Ruvyn's Elven eyes could easily make out the distance to the trees surrounding the clearing, and he noticed that the men were starting a campfire a short distance from the rear of the wagon. He craned his head up, to look behind him, past the front, and saw that the trees were farther away, where the horses had been tied up, and one man had been feeding them, but now was walking toward him, then past the wagon to take his place with the others, while a meal of some sort was being passed out.
"What are we gonna do with them, Boss?"
"Nothing, right now. They're gonna come looking for their precious Princesses, and when they do, we'll take care of them. Now, shut the fuck up."
Ruvyn checked the area again, to make sure he saw all of them sitting down around the fire, then slowly and carefully, inched up toward the front the wagon, then underneath the bench seat, and grabbed hold of the tongue, where the horses had been hitched. He put his hand flat on the front of the wagon, to slide further, and his right hand felt something made of metal, and he carefully searched the surface of the wood with his fingers to confirm his suspicions, and was thrilled to find them confirmed.
It was a trap door, praise the Valar! He could open it and get them out!
Then what? These victims were children of Men and could not be silent like Elves, nor could they get up into the trees quickly. They probably had been drugged, like he had been, and might still be too sluggish to run.
And Lady Tilda couldn't run at all, for that would stop her already-weakened heart.
Tears filled his eyes, as dread and regret washed over him. He had no choice but to leave them here and go for help, and pray they wouldn't be killed before he could come back.
"Díheno nin." He whispered. Forgive me... Forgive me...
And with a silent prayer, begging Varda to help him them all, he silently crept to the trees, and into the forest.
And as soon as he was out of earshot, he ran like the wind.
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Dungeons in the City of Dale
Bard took a deep breath and prayed for a miracle, that this gamble would pay off.
And after a few minutes of watching Dwalin work their leader over, it did.
"My Lords!" one of them said, I'll tell you everything I know, just get me away from these people!"
Instantly, the dirty blonde man had him pinned down with hands around his throat. "Shut your fucking mouth, Bert! You bastard!"
"Get him out of there!" Thranduil shouted.
Thangon threw himself at the bars of the cell again with a deafening roar, which startled the man into letting go, just in time for the Elves to extricate the one called "Bert" from the cell and lock the door again.
Dwalin grinned at the dark-haired leader sitting at the table. "Get this bastard up," he ordered. Two Elves got his hands free and when he was upright, Dwalin took his knife, and cut the laces of his leggings. "This is for those bairns, you son of a bitch!" He snarled, and looked into his eyes as he sliced the man's cock from his body.
"Throw him back in, so they can watch the bastard bleed to death!" He ordered. "And know this!" Dwalin lifted his bloody knife and pointed to the remaining Men in the cell. "Ye'd better start prayin', because if those bastards hurt one hair on their heads, I'm gonna personally make sure you all lose your cocks, and make you choke on 'em!"
The Kings looked at each other, then at Dáin, who shrugged nonchalantly. "I've no argument with tha'."
"Me either," Bard agreed as they followed the Guards and Bert to another section of the Dungeons, away from the screaming, and put him in another cell.
"Talk, Bert, and it had better be good," Bard's mouth was a grim line. "Where have they taken my children?"
"It's only a guess, My Lord, but I think they're in a clearing we camped at about ten miles South of here, in the thicker part of the forest. We used it a couple of times, and I think The Boss and Harry took them there."
"What does your Boss want with my family?" Bard asked him.
"Nothing." Bert told him. "Except to punish youfor losing his business. He said you stole his property, and you were going to pay."
The King of Dale's eyes narrowed. "You mean the children from Harad?"
"Aye, My Lord." Bert shook his head. "I didn't know that at first, I promise you. When I took this job, they made it sound like you were some crooked thief who stole your throne, took his money and his land or something like that but…". Bert looked into the King of Dale's eyes. "I swear to you, sir; I didn't know what this 'property' was, until I got here, but by that time, it was too late."
"How long have you worked for him?"
"Just three months, My Lord, and only because my family was desperate - I don't hold with hurtin' kids, no matter whether you believe me or not." Bert look didn't waver. "They're fuckin' monsters is what they are, and I'm that ashamed I ever met 'em."
"But why did you agree to come in the first place?"
"Half my family died from the Pox last winter, and now I've got three sisters, and six nieces and nephews with no one to support them but me!" He looked back toward the passage were the dark-haired man was still screaming. "That was Chuck. He came to me and offered me more money than I could make in two years back in the Wold, with a promise of more! Him and Sandy – the one who jumped me just now - made out like it was some sorta 'noble quest,' and we were going to make things right…" Bert shook his head, and his voice broke. "I should've known it was too good to be true, but I was just happy to put some food on the table, don't you see?
"I admit I believed 'em, and that's my shame, My Lord. But seein' so much sickness and death..." he paused to take a breath, "it takes the heart right out of a man..." his face crumpled. "Most of my friends, all my brothers, then my parents... they all caught the Pox an' died within two weeks of each other." His voice caught. "All I did for weeks and weeks and weeks was dig graves… The Elves came to help, but by that time, half the village was dead, and those that didn't die were too weak to get any of the planting done for next winter, so even those who were lucky enough to live, were going to starve! I needed the money, My Lords!"
Bard crossed his arms and continued to listen, but he also sent a prayer of thanks that Dale had not been stricken with the plague, like so many others had been. "Go on."
"I was desperate to feed my family, don't you see? Then Chuck—" he cursed again at the man moaning in his cell, "and those arseholescome along, and it felt like my prayers had been answered." Bert laughed bitterly. "I never prayed so hard in all my life, and thiswas the help the Valar sent?
"Now I know it's wrong to speak against my King - I know that - but since I'm going to die anyway, I'll tell you true: King Fengel doesn't give two shits what happens to us in the Wold. He never did, so there was no looking to Edoras for help, was there? Marshal Leód does what he can, but..." He shook his head. "There's no hope left in me, and I've get nothing for my family."
"But why didn't you come to us?"
"When I got here and learned the truth of it, I tried to quit, but they threatened to kill my sisters, and turn my little nieces and nephews into whores! You have to believe me - Chuck and Sandy know all their names, and where they live! They'd do it, too; I've seen it! There's a bunch of us who are only here 'cause we can't get out of it, and we decided if we were caught to just do away with ourselves, so The Boss would think we fought to the death, then maybe wouldn't kill our families - it's that bad, sir!"
"Look at me." Thranduil reached through the bars, grabbed Bert's jaw, and looked deep into his eyes for several minutes as he spoke several words in Quenya. "He speaks the truth, Bard."
"What does your Boss want?" Bard demanded.
"That's just it; he doesn't want anything, except to hurt you! He's fuckin' crazy! He doesn't care if we die, or you die and probably doesn't even plan on getting out of this alive himself! He only wants to make you watch, when he slaughters your kids!"
"And this Boss is Jarod?" the Elvenking whispered.
Bert's face crumpled, and a tear escaped. "Aye, My Lord. And the man workin' with him is named Harry. That's his Second. There's Chuck, Sandy, and another one named Monty. They're all Enforcers for the Boss. That's what I know for sure."
"How did he know where we all would be? He's been having us watched, has he not?"
"Yes, My Lord. Tim the handyman - he's dead by the way – Tim was a spy for The Boss, and starting seeing one of the kitchen maids. He was romancin' her for information, you see, though he's a poofter- " he looked wide-eyed at the Kings and blushed. "Beggin' your pardon, sirs. I meant no disrespect…"
"A kitchen maid? Which one?"
"Wynny, the plump one with the red hair. He's got her so strung along, she'd do anything for him, wouldn't she?"
"Cook was complaining that she didn't show up for work this morning," Bard said.
"Nualë," Thranduil turned to the closest Guardian. "Go find this kitchen maid and bring her to the Great Hall at once." Then he turned back to Bert. "And you believe they have taken the women and children to this clearing in that wagon?"
"I do. I can show you where it is, My Lord," Bert offered.
"Why would you do this? What do you want?" Bard asked, warily.
"Just two things, I beg," he swallowed. "Protect what's left of my family, from these men, please!"
"Where are they?"
"In Rohan. It's a village in the Wold called Langhold, sir. I can give you their names…"
Bard met Thranduil's eyes and gave a small nod. "What else?"
"I deserve to die for what I've been a part of; I'll not argue with that, and go willingly, for I can hardly live with myself anymore. But if you could just write and tell them that I tried to help, maybe they won't be completely ashamed of me." A tear rolled down Bert's face. "I beg you, My Lord."
Again, Thranduil saw no lie in his eyes. "Bring us some ink and paper," he ordered, then he turned back to the man. "You will draw a map of this place, then you will remain and tell the King Dáin and Dwalin everything you know, do you understand?" Then he added in a kinder tone. "If you completely cooperate, I will do what I can to help your family."
The man tearfully grabbed and kissed Thranduil's hand. "Thank you, My Lord. I don't care what happens to me, but they don't deserve my shame."
The paper arrived, Bert drew the directions to the clearing he suspected they were at. "I hope you find them, My Lord."
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Forest in the South of Dale
The moonlight shone through the window in the side of the wagon, as it continued its mysterious journey, and Sigrid, Rhian and Hannah looked out at the stars. The younger children had fallen asleep again, they all huddled together for warmth, as the vehicle rocked them gently.
With a jarring motion, everything stopped, and the children began to stir.
"Do you have any idea where we are?" Rhian whispered.
"No." Sigrid answered.
Adila's little girl stirred and began to cry. "I want my Da!" she wailed.
"Shhh… lovey." Hannah rocked her. "I'm sure they're all out looking for us, and they'll come and take us to your Da and Mam as soon as they can."
"It's too dark in here," the boy said, who had looked to be about Tilda's age. "I've got to use the privy."
"I know," Rhian stroked his head. Maybe we could –"
They all jumped as the back door opened and one of the men stuck his head inside. "Keep your mouths shut, if you want to keep your pretty little heads."
"Please!" Sigrid pleaded. "If it's gold you want, my parents are very rich, and they will give you as much as you want. I'll stay and be your hostage, just please: let the others go. My sister isn't well, and she—"
The man laughed, and his white teeth gleamed in the moonlight. "I've no doubt I could take all the gold in the treasuries of the North, little Princess, but don't you worry: Your daddies are gonna pay a lot more than that, you'll see."
With a loud slam, the door was closed and locked again. Then they heard the sound of liquid being poured all around the wagon and splashed against its walls.
"Oh, sweet Valar, help us..." Hannah prayed, in a trembling voice.
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City of Dale, at the South Gate
Within minutes of leaving the Dungeons, the rescue party was assembled. While they were waiting for their horses to be brought to them, they received word that Wynny, the erstwhile kitchen maid had been found in her bed, with her throat cut.
"Tying up loose ends, I expect." Bard sighed, and ran his hands over his face.
Bard turned to Dáin, and opened his mouth to speak, but the King Under the Mountain beat him to it.
"I'll look after things here, and we'll clean that filth out o' your City." Dáin, clasped his wrist, and put his and on Bard's arm. "May Durin protect ye an' the wee lassies. Get you gone no' an' come back with 'em right quick."
"Thank you, Mellon nîn," Thranduil's voice was husky. Bard couldn't talk at all at this point, and just nodded his head.
Thank the Valar, the night was clear, and the moon was shining bright, as they gathered at the South Gate: Bard, Thranduil, all six Galadhrim, Captain Mablung, and eight Guardians.
Ermon was also with them, with saddle bags crammed full of supplies, ready to see to injuries, but he wasn't surprised when King Thranduil took him aside.
"Is there anything we can do for Tilda?" he asked anxiously.
"My Lord, I have a bottle of Foxglove oil with me, should her heart falter." 1 When he saw the look on the Elvenking's face, he put his hand on his shoulder. "Think only about their rescue and getting her to me, and I will do everything in my power to help her. You must concentrate and not falter, Mellon."
Thranduil swallowed and nodded, then went back to horse.
Once they exited through the South Gate, Fînlossen and Naurmôr, seemed to understand their urgency, and outdid themselves with their speed and agility, as they covered mile after mile under the light of the moon. Eventually the thick forest loomed up ahead in the moonlight, and suddenly a figure ran out to meet them.
Thranduil raised his hand and called out, "DARO!"
The party halted, and quickly dismounted, as the brown-haired Elf ran up to meet them with immense relief on his face. "Bless the Valar you have come, Aran nîn!" He was holding one arm across his middle and there was a rudimentary bandage on it, soaked in blood.
"Ruvyn!" Bard cried. "Have you seen them? Are they all right?"
"I hid under the wagon, Lord Bard, and I believe they were alive when I left them." The Elf's breath caught. "I… I did not want to, but there are five men there and I had no weapons, and I feared they would kill the hostages if I tried to take them on."
"You were right to do this," Thranduil nodded. "You are injured?"
"It is nothing. They are three miles Southwest from here." Ruvyn pointed, then bent over to catch his breath. "I can lead you back."
"Yes, but first tell us exactly what you saw…"
Once Ruvyn had informed them of the location and layout, they decided to leave the horses at the edge of the woods, and proceed on foot.
As Thranduil finished hobbling his horse, he suddenly froze, as his sight became clouded over with a vision:
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He was on the hill in Mordor, before the Black Gates, as the Dragon swooped down, it's belly glowed in readiness, preparing to attack. Thranduil quickly reached for his swords, but they were gone, and he was helpless against the Fell Beast, and this time the Dragon would win...2
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Then he blinked, and with a gasp, he was in the forest once more.
"Bard, I must speak with you." He took the Bowman by the arm and walked a short distance away.
"What is it?"
"I… cannot continue with this hurt and anger between us." He swallowed hard and looked into Bard's eyes. "No one could have predicted the enormity of all this, and it was wrong of me to accuse you of being careless. I was afraid, and I took it ou—"
"Are you fucking serious?" Bard inhaled sharply, and angrily jerked away from his grip. "You want to do this now? Now?"
"I am sorry—"
"No!" Bard was incredulous. "No! There's no time for this shit!" He clenched his teeth and rubbed his forehead. "Dammit, Thranduil! Youwere the one who said we can't be anything but Kings and soldiers right now! Everysecond we stand here dithering, means my children are that much closer to death, can't you see that?"
Thranduil lowered his eyes in hurt and shame, and prayed his vision was wrong.
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Thanks to his enhanced sight, Bard could easily see the clearing up ahead, and to his horror, he saw the men with small casks in their hands, splashing at the sides of the wagon. Ulmo's balls... They were soaking it down with oil!
Bard heard Thranduil gasp, and he could feel his terror through their fëa. He looked over and saw his face go white and his lips completely disappear, as he swore softly under his breath, and clutched his chest. Then he shook his head, as if to banish a thought, then Thranduil issued instructions:
"Mablung, take four of your troops and dispose of any man with the horses and silence the beasts. Then we will make for the front of the wagon and get them out one at a time, through the trap door, and I will hand them to you. Ruvyn, you wait over there with Ermon, and help him see to the hostages."
"Yes, My Lord."
"Wardens, you will get into the trees, take aim, and wait for Rúmil's signal. Do Not Fire until allthe woman and children are well clear, but if you see they have discovered us, kill them as quickly as you can, to prevent them from setting the wagon ablaze."
"Why can't you just kill them all first, and be done with it?" Bard demanded.
"Because one of them could still have a chance to start the fire. All it would take would be a spark, and we would be too late." Thranduil looked at him solemnly. "We just can't take that chance, do you not see?"
Bard nodded and said nothing. He hated it, but his husband was right.
Please... please... Bard silently pleaded with Ulmo, the Stars, Eru, the Valar, his wife Mattie, anyone who might help them.
"Rúmil, you and your Wardens take your positions." The Elvenking ordered.
"Yes, My Lord." Rúmil and the Wardens scattered.
"Bard," Thranduil turned to him, not quite meeting his eyes. "I know you want to be at the wagon, but you cannot be as silent as Elves, and we cannot take a chance…"
"No, you're right." Bard reluctantly agreed. "I'll be in the trees with Rúmil and the others." Turamarth had offered him the use of his bow and arrows, and was waiting to hand them over.
He turned to follow Rúmil, but felt himself jerked back and his mouth captured in a fierce kiss, that tasted of fear and desperation.
"I love you, Bard," Thranduil's voice was rough, "No matter what happens, please, please remember that. Do not let our harsh words linger between us. Forgive me, not for my sake, but for your own, and never forget that I love you and our family, more than my own life." Then the Elf quickly turned away to join his group.
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Bard was perched high up over the campsite now, and looking down at four men sitting around the campfire, eating, while the other one was feeding the horses.
From his left, he saw the Elves silently approach the men by the horses and incapacitate them, within seconds their bodies dragged into the darkness of the trees. The others had spoken softly to the horses in Quenya to calm them, but not before one of them neighed loudly.
Oh shit… Bard and the rest froze waited. All it took was one wrong move, and his children would be dead.
Please... Please...
Jarod looked past the wagon at the horses, then jerked his head toward one of the men. "Get over there and see what's the matter with Jerry."
"Yes, sir."
"How long do we have to wait, Boss?"
"As long as it takes. They'll be here, if they're not watching us already. But I want to make sure, so they can watch them burn."
By now, the Elves had calmed the horses, but man still approached carefully, with his knife in his hand. An instant later, he met the same silent fate as the other one.
Then Bard saw Thranduil silently approached the wagon with the others, and got down on his hands and knees to open the trap door.
Slowly, slowly, the door was lowered, and he could make out the surprised gasps of the hostages, but he doubted the men in the back could hear it over the roar of the fire.
Thranduil was whispering, then carefully pulled out a small body with short hair – it must be Adila's little boy – then held a finger to his lips to urge him to be silent, then spoke a few words in Quenya before he handed him to an Elf, who quickly carried him off into the darkness.
One...
Bard's breath caught, and his eyes filled with tears as he saw his Little Bean wrap her arms tight around Thranduil's neck. Oh, praise the Valar! He could see the relief on his husband's face, too, as he kissed her quickly, mouthed the words "I love you," and handed her to Turamarth, who raced her towards the woods, where Ermon was waiting to examine her.
Please... please...
Then Adila's little girl was next, then Rhian, and Hannah…
Please...
Just Sigrid left. Why didn't she come out earlier? Please, please, he prayed. Please save my family. Just a few more minutes, and once they got Sigrid out and safe in the woods, the arrows would fly, and all those bastards would be dead.
Please... Please... get my little girl out...
The wagon jostled slightly, and there was a squeal of pain.
Oh, gods... No, no, no, no, no...
Jarod yelled and as he and the others jumped to their feet, "What the fuck is going on?" He picked up a long stick that had been held in the fire, and looked up into the trees, straight at Bard as if he could see him.
Could he see him?
Oh, gods, oh, gods, oh no, please...
Rúmil let out a loud whistle, and the arrow after arrow flew through the air, killing most of them instantly, but Jarod somehow stood in the midst of all of it, and looked straight up at Bard and laughed, as tossed the torch toward the wagon…
"NO!" Bard screamed. "NO!" The he tossed his bow and quiver aside and jumped.
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888888888888888
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Thranduil heard the whistling sound of arrows flying through the air, just as he managed to yank Sigrid free, then threw her at Mablung, who raced her to the trees.
He was soaked with lamp oil, from lying in the grass, and had just managed to get to his feet, when the wagon burst into flames with a roar...
...and so did he.
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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
Thangon, Cronhë! –(Quenya) Thangon, Attack!
DARO! - STOP!
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NOTES:
[1] Digitalis, used to treat Cardiac problems by stimulating the heart.
[2] "…the flying Dragon was sent from the Tower of Barad-Dûr and was headed straight for Thranduil's army. Knowing they would be destroyed, Thranduil ran ahead, ordering his troops to stay behind, and swiftly made his way up onto the rocks at the top of a hill right in front of them. Then, he hid behind a large boulder, waiting, with his own sword in one hand, and his Adar's in the other, poised to strike.
All too soon, the Dragon descended. The glow was in its belly and was starting to move up its neck; getting ready to spit fire. As it swooped low over the hill, Thranduil leaped out from behind the rock, jumped atop it, then made an impossibly high leap into the air, as only an Elf can do. He flipped forward in a somersault to give his sword-strikes more impetus, then uncurled his body and stabbed the Dragon in its vulnerable underbelly and held on, using the creature's momentum against it to slice its gullet wide open, thus killing it. But he was not unscathed. The fire that had been building in the Dragon's gut escaped, and it hit Thranduil dead on…" /works/10838010/chapters/24520668