Chapter Thirty-Eight
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SUMMARY: The hostages have been saved, but the Elvenking is trapped.
Is this the end for him?
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"Everyone keeps telling me that time heals all wounds, but no one can tell me what I'm supposed to do right now. Right now I can't sleep. It's right now that I can't eat. Right now, I still hear his voice and sense his presence even though I know he's not here. Right now all I seem to do is cry. I know all about time and wounds healing, but even if I had all the time in the world, I still don't know what to do with all this hurt right now."
― Nina Guilbeau, Too Many Sisters
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City of Dale, 29thof May 2943 T.A. (A few hours earlier)
"What in blazes is going on here?" Hilda marched into the Great Hall, closely followed by Percy, and saw King Dáin and several other Dwarves talking to the Elven Guards. "What happened?" she demanded. "We were in the Lodge, then a dozen Guards surrounded the place! Where is everybody?"
Dáin went over and took her elbow. "Ye both need te sit down. Come on."
"It's bad, isn't it?" Percy put his arm around his wife's shoulders.
"Aye. I canna tell ye otherwise. Yer family's been attacked, an' four people are dead, along wi' Tilda's wee beastie. Both the Princesses 'ave been taken, along wi' some others."
There was no time to react, because the doors to the Great Hall burst open.
"My Lady!" Adila came into the Great Hall, followed by a couple of Guards, one of whom was holding baby Darryn, who was still weepy, from his trauma.
The Blacksmith's wife eyes bruised from her injury ran into Hilda's arms and sobbed.
At a nod from Dáin, an Elf stepped up to help them all to sit down, and Cook was right there with some strong wine.
"She speaks true," Dáin nodded to Adila, "an' I'm sorry for it. But there's more goin' on than ye know, and it'll take some tellin'…"
Dáin carefully explained to them what happened on Hope Field, the Orphanage and at Ben's house, then the Imposters from Harad.
"They were behind tha' attack that took Thranduil outta the City. They weren't expecting 'im te come back early, ye ken, but praise Mahal 'e did."
Percy's face went white. "Holy shit…"
Hilda's hands were over her mouth, as she shook her head in disbelief. "Oh… That can't be true…"
"How did they know to do all this?" Percy asked. "How could they possible know where we all were?"
Cook stepped up. "M'Lady, I'm afraid Wynny was steppin' out with one of them gang members, only she didn't know it. Seems he's been wheedling her for information on your comin's and goin's for months, now." He looked devastated. "I'm sorry, Lady Hilda. I'd no idea he was doin' that to her, or I would've chased him off with a club."
"Where is she?" Hilda's face went red with fury.
Dáin put his hand on Hilda's arm. "They killed the lass. They found her earlier with her throat cut."
"Oh, gods…" Hilda said in a small voice. "I can't believe all this!" She glared at Cook. "What happened? How could she do that to us?"
"She didn't mean no harm, I'm sure of it." The man cleared his throat nervously. "I know she didn't realize! Wynny was just a shy young thing, with not much confidence, and this Tim - you know, the handyman? He seemed like a decent enough bloke, M'Lady, but had her wrapped around his finger. I know what she did was wrong, and I'm not disputin' any of that, but he toyed with Wynny's affections, to get information. They found him dead, too."
Percy sighed heavily. "Tim? He did that? How'dyou find all this out?"
"One of the prisoners told King Bard, before they left. Seems Tim never cared for her – he doesn't care for girls at all, in fact." Cook's eyes welled in sorrow and anger, and gave Hilda a defiant look. "But she was a kind-hearted lass who didn't deserve what happened to her, no matter what anybody says. Wynny was a good girl, M'Lady, and she loved working here! Those bastards used her and threw her away, like she was trash!"
Hilda sat back and shook her head. "No, you're right – no one deserves that, and she was sweet girl. She doesn't have any family, either, does she?"
"Just a young cousin, M'Lady, and the boy's been adopted by some Elves. Her Mam and brother never made it outta Laketown, and her Uncle died in the Battle." Cook shook his head. "I've been keeping an eye out for her, and if I had any idea that bastard Tim meant her any harm, I would've bashed his head in!" His voice caught. "I didn't see it… I just plain didn't see it…"
"You can't blame yourself." Percy put his hand on the man's shoulder, and asked Dáin, "What can we do now?"
"Wait here, an' pray, like the rest o' us. We've routed the City, and everyone involved are down in the Cells. I got Dwalin there, an' if there's more te know, we'll found it out. We've doubled the Guard all o'er the City, an' watchin' the South Gate for any news." Dáin put his hand over Adila's. "I'm sorry fer Bron, lass. 'Espent tha' whole first winter wi' us, a'the Mountain, learnin' his trade ye ken. We all liked 'im."
"How long do the others have to stay in the Mountain?" Hilda asked.
"We sent the signal a bit ago. They should be in here any minute."
A short time later, the party from Erebor arrived with their escort, and Bain was instantly enveloped in Hilda's arms, and Percy was holding Tauriel. Dilna came in with Bofur and rushed over to Hilda.
Darryn started to cry, and held out his arms, and Ben dove forward to hold his grandson. "I'm here, baby. Grandad's here... Are you all right? They didn't hurt the baby, did they?" He closed his eyes and tried to get himself under control, as a Guard helped him sit.
"Darryn's been checked head to toe, My Lord," the Elf promised. "He is well."
"Where's Bowen? Is he all right?" Hilda asked.
"We dropped him off first." Bain told them. "Anna and Daffyd were frantic."
"I'll bet they were." Percy saw the blood on Bain's shirt. "What happened?"
"An arrow nicked my ear. I'm fine, but…they killed my horse, Uncle Percy." Bain swallowed.
"I'm sorry, my boy." Percy gathered the boy to him. "Thank Ulmo, you and Tauriel are all right."
Hilda checked the bandage on Tauriel's arm and the stitches on her cheek. "Do you hurt, lovey?"
"A bit. I will go see the Healers when this is over. I just need to be here." She gave Hilda a sad look. "Is it true, what they said about Esta?"
"I'm afraid so."
"What about Esta?" Bain cried, with huge eyes. "What? Where's Thangon?" The boy looked around, frantically. "Oh, gods…"
"The big beastie is workin' wi' Dwalin an' the others a' the Cells, lad." Dáin's voice was gentle. "'e's doin' fine, but I'm afraid the wee dog is dead."
This was all too much for poor boy, and he put his face in his hands and wept, as Percy held him.
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Lothlórien, 29thof May 2943 T.A. (Just past midnight)
After tossing and turning for hours, Galadriel sat up in bed, wide-eyed, with a gasp.
"Galadriel?" Celeborn rolled over and asked her, with sleep in his voice. "What is it, Meleth nîn?"
"Something is happening," she whispered. "We must go at once!"
"Do you know what it is?"
"Not yet, but we must make haste, Hervenn nîn!"
Her husband quickly helped her out of bed, and in minutes they were both dressed and headed for her private garden on the forest floor.
She took the pewter pitcher and filled in in the nearby fountain and took it over to the wide low bowl on the plinth in the middle of the garden. She began to pour, and as she lifted the pitcher up and down three times, she chanted the words in Quenya that would summon the scenes that had been plaguing her dreams.
"Show me," she prayed.
They both looked down at the water, as it stilled and carefully watched the shapes and images take form. A forest in the dark. A campfire, with Men sitting around it, next to a large, covered wagon.
"What does it mean?" Celeborn asked his wife. "I see nothing out of order with this, Meleth nîn. Such scenes are common all over Middle Earth."
"This is true, but notice the look on that man's face," she pointed to tall one with greying hair. "There is hate and malice in his heart, to be sure, but there is something more…"
Celeborn watched the scene carefully. "The others are afraid of this man."
"They are," Galadriel agreed. "But he is no mere man."
"Many men have such darkness in them…"
"That is also true, Meleth nîn, but this one has a control over them that is not natural. He can to force others to do his bidding, though he himself does not know where his power comes from."
"Where does it come from?" Celeborn wondered. "Can you see?"
Galadriel gasped, as she realized the truth. "The man is a thrall1of Sauron, and cannot be killed easily."
"Ai, gorgor…" Celeborn breathed. "There is more, I think… Can you look inside the wagon?"
Galadriel murmured softly, and gently touched the surface of the water. The ripples washed away the scene at the fire, then revealed to the Lord and Lady the reason why they were summoned.
"We need to send for Daeron." Galadriel murmured. "Tell them to hurry."
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Lieutenant Daeron had been sent back to the Golden Wood last week to get some rest, after working endlessly to treat the injured on the campaign with the Riders of Rohan.
It was Penlod who insisted he went. "You are dead on your feet, Mellon nîn. Now go, and no arguments; you are no good to us here, until you get strong again."
"But I really am fine…" Daeron protested weakly.
"No, you are not! I am still your superior and I am ordering you home for at least a week, pending an examination by the Master Gilfanon."
In the end, he was grateful to go, though he hated to admit it. Once back in the Golden Wood, he fell into bed and slept through the entire day and night. After a few days, he felt much better, and enjoyed the quiet time spent in reading books and writing letters, and enjoyed having the house to himself.
On the sixth night after his arrival, he was rudely awakened by a pounding on the door. "Lieutenant Daeron! You must wake up, quickly!"
Daeron shot out of bed and grabbed his robe, and opened the door to find his friend Airen with her arm up, ready to continue pounding.
"What is it?" he sat up and looked at her. "What are you doing here?"
"The Lady sent me to fetch you. You are needed in her Private Garden immediately!"
"I do not understand; what is so urgent?"
"I do not know, Mellon. She simply said you must come, now!"
"Daeron has arrived, My Lady." Airen announced, then bowed and exited the garden.
"Come, quickly!" Galadriel motioned for him to joined her and Celeborn around the Mirror.
"What is it?" The Lieutenant asked, then gasped, when he looked down. "Ai…"
"Look, but do not touch the water," Celeborn warned, "no matter what you see. Then do exactly what my wife tells you to do."
Daeron eyes were as wide as saucers, and he was mesmerized at the sights from the Mirror.
There was a clearing in the woods, and saw figures crawling toward a structure much like the ones they had stopped on the roads in the Wold, full of kidnapped children….
But his was not in the Wold, and one of the Elves in this scene was his cousin.
A voice entered his thoughts, unbidden.
We are watching a wooded area near Dale.
Dale?Daeron stepped back, shocked, but a gentle hand on his arm urged him back.
There was Turamarth, and King Thranduil helping some women and children through a small trap door…
"Rhian!" Daeron cried, and he instinctively reach out for her, but Galadriel caught his wrist.
"You must not touch the water!" she warned. "I know what she is to you, hênig. Rest assured she is safe and so is the child. She is not why I sent for you."
He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, and relaxed enough for Galadriel to let go.
The three of them stared into the mirror, as the scene continued to unfolded. Lord Thranduil and the Elves continued to help them, and when Rhian was rescued Daeron let out a sigh of relief. They all prayed when Lady Sigrid became stuck, then she was in Mablung's arms...
Suddenly, the wagon burst into flames and there was screaming. The Elves ran to the fire, but could not approach.
Thranduil was on fire.
"Now, Meleth nîn!" Galadriel told Celeborn, urgently. "Go now!"
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Forest in the South of Dale
In the wagon, Sigrid and the others were still praying and trying to keep up a calm front for the children, when she sat up.
"Do you hear that?" She whispered.
There was a scratching noise coming from the bench seat at the front. She crawled over and lifted the lid in time to see the trap door open slowly…
When she saw Ada,and she nearly wept from relief.
The Elvenking put his finger to his lips, then whispered. "You must be silent, Iellig, and tell the others they must make no noise. Send out the children first, one by one, quietly."
Tilda was still subdued and Adila's little boy had started to cry, so Hannah brought him over to go first. As soon as Thranduil touched him, he said a few words in Quenya to quiet him, and he was quickly through the hatch and handed over to another Elf and carried to the trees.
Then Tilda. No one could afford to stop and think why she was so silent; they just needed to get her out. He couldn't resist holding her for just a second, and kissed her hair. "I love you, Tithen Pen. Now, go with Ruvyn, and I will help the others."
Tur held out his arms, and and he quickly took her to Ermon, then came back to help.
Adila's little girl nodded to Sigrid, and swiftly escaped into Thranduil's arms, and then it was Rhian's turn.
As Thranduil helped her out of the hatch, he whispered in her ear. "Darryn, your father, and Evan are safe, hênig. You need not worry."
Rhian nodded, and stifled a sob of relief, and went to Turamarth, who was waiting to take her.
Sigrid had a silent argument with Hannah as to who would go next, but it was right: Hannah was older, and needed help from both ends to get through the box seat and through the trap door.
Finally, Thranduil reached for Sigrid, and almost had her out, when her skirt caught on something.
"I'm stuck, Ada," she whispered. "Oh, gods, I'm stuck!"
Thranduil worked his hands around her legs to her waist, where the fabric was caught, and pulled with all his might. The skirt tore easily, but his force of his hands smacked the side of the opening, jostling the wagon a bit.
"Hurry! They mean to burn us!" Sigrid whispered again.
"I know, Iellig. Shh…" He almost had her free, when her skin caught on something and cut into the flesh, and the squeal of pain erupted from her before she could stop it.
Then there was shouting and the shuffling of angry feet.
Before she knew it, she was in Captain Mablung's strong arms, and he was helping her away. She turned her head around, when the roar of the fire began, and caught a glimpse of her Ada, as the oil on this clothes burst into flames.
"ADA! NO!" She lunged back to help him, but Mablung tightened his grip and dragged to safety. The rest of the rescue party ran towards the wagon to try and save their King, but the heat and the flames forced them back.
"NO! Oh, please no! "Sigrid sobbed as she fought to get free. "You can't let him die! Where's Da? DA! DA!" she was screaming at the top of her lungs, but the roar of the fire drowned her voice.
Mablung dragged her backwards, then around to the side toward Rhian and Hannah, and she could see the Leader of the gang standing by the campfire laughing…
…as a tall figure burst from the branches high in the trees, his black hair flying...
…and landed perfectly at the man's feet.
And she shook her head in disbelief, though her heart knew the truth of it.
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How did all those arrows miss that son of a bitch? Bard thought, just as the wagon – and his husband – went up in flames.
Jarod stood there with an arrogant grin in his face as he tossed the torch in the air and the wagon burst into flames. He didn't seem all that surprised when the King of Dale suddenly landed in front of him.
"I was hoping you'd see all that," he sneered at Bard, and drew his sword.
"You're a dead man." Bard said, through gritted teeth, as he pulled out his knife and they began to dance around each other.
Jarod lunged forward and the sword whipped through the air, but Bard jumped, and with a half-twist and landed behind him, a knife at this throat.
He's dead… He's dead… He's dead…
The words pounded through his brain faster and faster, until Bard screamed in fury, threw the knife away. He needed to tear this man apart with his bare hands.
Jarod's eyes were wide with surprise, but he raised his sword just the same, and made to strike him down. With lightning speed, Bard dodged the blow, then kicked the sword out of Jarod's hand, and punched him in stomach. The man's eyes bugged out as he bent over double, then Bard grabbed his head and kneed him in the face several times, then threw him on the ground and punched him, over and over.
He's dead… He's dead… He's dead…
His blood pounded in his ears, and all he saw was a red mist of fury. Bard was roaring and swearing and making noise, he knew that much, but he had no idea what he was saying, or even thinking anymore. He just wanted to hit him and hit him, and hit him again, until the pain of his loss left him.
Which would never leave, because his husband, and probably his daughter, had just burned to death…
He screamed in anguish, then punched him again. And again. And again.
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Sigrid cried out and reached for him as the Mablung dragged her away, but she couldn't help. No one could, because the Dragon had come back from the dead, to seek his revenge.
The flames took him, and this time, he knew he would not survive the blaze, nor did he want to. It was not in him to try to overcome the agony of burns like that again, not even for his family. Death, come and find me quickly,he prayed, as he waited for the searing pain he knew would come, followed by blessed oblivion, then if the Valar were kind, Mandos would reach his hand out for him and take him to the Halls of waiting.
The flames took hold of his clothing, then licked upwards toward his shoulders, about to burn his face...
…then stopped.
He opened his eyes. Everything was frozen in time. The yellow and blue flames were still there, but they did not move, and beyond that, he could see the Elves and others standing like statues…
"Thranduil?" The voice was behind him.
He turned around in confusion, then saw his silver-haired cousin standing before him.
"Celeborn? Is that you?"
"Come." The Lord of the Golden Wood reached out. "Take my hand, and we will get you out."
"I cannot go with you. The Dragon—"
Celeborn's voice was gentle. "There is no Dragon, and the War was long ago, Mellon. We must get you out, Thranduil, because your family is waiting for you."
"My family…"
"Yes. Will you not trust me, my Cousin?"
"Even if this is as you say, I am burned! I cannot endure it, Celeborn!" His eyes filled with tears. "It will be worse this time, because I knowwhat iscoming,and do not have that kind of strength in me! I must allow myself to die, can you not see that?"
"No, Thranduil, Celeborn patiently explained. "You will not suffer that agony again, I promise you."
"How do you know? How do I know this is not just a dream?" Thranduil was still frozen from fear and bad memories. "Please…. I was in constant agony, day in and day out, for almost two years, and…" He pleaded. "If you are real, then be kind and end my life quickly, please!"
Celeborn stepped over to him, took his hand and squeezed it. "Do I not feel real to you?" He took Thranduil's hand and held it to his cheek. "Do you feel this? You must trust me, and let me help you, or the danger will not end for your family. There is more to this than you realize!"
"But… how can this be? How can you do this?"
Celeborn raised an eyebrow. "The are many advantages to having a powerful wife. Let us help you, Ētta."
Thranduil looked down at the flames frozen on his clothing. "But…"
"I will take care of that." Celeborn stepped back and took off his cloak, then used it to brushed the flames off his body. Thranduil watched in fascination as they shattered and fell away like broken glass.
"There." His cousin stepped back with a look of satisfaction. "I am afraid your clothes have been damaged beyond repair. You will have to cut some of your hair off, but you are otherwise unharmed." Celeborn shook out the cloak and placed it on Thranduil's shoulders and fastened it at the neck, as if he were dressing a child, then grabbed his arms.
"Before we go, you must listen carefully to these instructions: Your Bard is in grave danger, and it is you who must save him."
"What is it?"
"Their leader, the one who started all this, is not an ordinary Man, but a Thrall possessed by the Evil One. This Thrall targeted your husband specifically, so Bard must be the one to not only kill him, but he must also destroy his body."
"I do not understand..."
"He will kill him, but then you must save Bard, because the danger will not end with this villain's death! Once the Thrall is dead, you cannot let Bard drown in his own anger and hate, Thranduil. If you fail, the Evil that possessed the Thrall will enter your husband and he will become one himself. You must help him banish it, Thranduil, and quickly!"
"How do we do this?"
"You must help him overcome his fury, then Bard must throw the body into the fire. You all must pray as it burns. Tell your Elves to sing the Hymn of Varda; that is the most powerful prayer we know. This will release the darkness, and Bard will be free of it, and so will the others. You cannot fail,Thranduil, because if you do, your husband will have to be destroyed the same way, do you understand?"
"But—"
"You must trust me!" Celeborn shook him hard. "Bard cannot do this on his own; if you love him, you must not fail!"
"I will not," the Elvenking swallowed.
Celeborn kissed both his cheeks, then pulled the hood of the cloak over Thranduil's head. "Go, cousin! Go NOW!"
And he threw the Elvenking out of the fire.
Thranduil flew through the air, then rolled several times in the grass, until he found himself surrounded by Elves with astonished faces.
"Are you all right, My Lord?"
"I…" he looked down at his clothing, which clearly had suffered, but the skin underneath was smooth and healthy. He reached up and felt his hair, and found that only the end of his long braid had been singed, but that was it. "I am… fine..." His voice was full of wonder.
"Where did you get the cloak?"
Thranduil looked down, and saw that he was indeed wearing the garment given to him by Celeborn.
It was real, then! But there was no time to think, because another shout was heard.
"Da! DA!" It was Sigrid screaming frantically. "Da, stop!"
Thranduil quickly looked over to see Bard beating the one called "Jarod" to a pulp.
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He's dead… He's dead… He's dead…
Bard screamed in rage, and he and continued to smash that bastards face in. Spittle flew from his mouth as he cursed, but he didn't care, because the Boss's his death wasn't enough. It would never be enough. He needed to pulverize him, to break every bone in his body, to rip out his heart, and even then, it wouldn't be enough…
...because his Elf was dead.
Thranduil had tried to reconcile with him before this, and he had pushed him away. Now he was dead, and Bard despised himself more and more with each passing moment.
The hate welled up in him until he couldn't see, and he kept on screaming and hitting the body of the one who caused it all. It didn't matter that Jarod was dead. Nothing mattered anymore except the rage that ran through Bard's veins. He needed to hate. He had to hate!
He's dead… He's dead… He's dead…
Suddenly hands were on his upper arms, and a voice could be heard somewhere in the recesses of his mind, calling his name. The hands tried to pull him away…
"NO!" he furiously jerked away, and continued his assault. "NO! He killed—"
"Bard! You must stop! Please! Mablung, help me!"
The grip on him was too strong and he couldn't move anymore. Arms were lifting him and turning him around, and he looked at Mablung…
…and Thranduil.
No. No. That can't be right. He shook his head and dove toward the body on the ground, but strong arms pulled him upright again.
"Hold him, Mablung!" He heard, and arms gripped him tighter, and made him face the Elvenking. "Bard, look at me! Look at me!"
Thranduil held his face, and Bard looked into his blue-grey eyes, and saw the reflection of the fire in them.
"Bard, it is me. I am here, Meleth nîn." he said. "I am here, and I love you."
"No! It's not true!" The anger welled up again, and he strained against the Captain's arms and roared in frustration.
"You must stop, Bard! Let it go!"
"NO! I can't! He—"
Suddenly Thranduil grabbed his face, and captured his mouth on a powerful kiss. Bard tried to turn away – he couldn't stop the instinct to fight it, but the Elf had put hand on the back of his head to keep him still, and another arm snaked around his waist to pull him closer.
Slowly, slowly, the frenzy of fury and madness began to settle down. He could feel love and life began to flow through him, and the turmoil eventually settled inside.
Thranduil could feel it too, as did Mablung, who released him. The Elf broke the kiss and looked into his eyes again. There were tears on his face, as he searched Bard's eyes with his own.
"Bard?" he whispered. "Meleth nîn?"
"You're real," he whispered. Then he burst into tears, and his knees buckled. Thranduil held him tight, and lowered them both to the ground.
"Yes, Meleth nîn. I am real."
"You're really alive…"
"I am. It took a miracle, but I am here, and everyone is safe."
Bard lifted his head. "Where are the girls?"
"Sigrid and Tilda are right over there, look for yourself." Thranduil smiled and pointed to an area in the trees near the front of the wagon. "Do you see?"
Bard turned and saw them, and his heart lifted with utter relief. Ermon had Tilda in his arms, and was giving her some medicine from a small bottle, and talking to her. Sigrid met his eyes and made to go to him, but Turamarth whispered something in her ear and held her back.
"Why won't he let her come?"
"There are some things we need to do, first, Bard."
"I don't understand…"
Thranduil pointed to the body of the monster that caused all this. Jarod's face had been completely destroyed, and the body was unrecognizable.
"He's dead." Bard said dazedly.
"Yes, and we must act quickly." Thranduil grabbed his face again and looked into his eyes, to make sure Bard was himself.
"What do you mean?"
"I will explain later, but you must throw the man's body into the fire, and hurry, or you and the children will all be in more danger than you can imagine. Hurry!"
They went back to where the body lay, and Bard picked it up and carried it towards the burning wagon and with a loud grunt, threw it into the flames. The Elves had already disposed of the rest of the bandits in the same manner, but when Jarod's remains landed on the burning heap, something happened...
Bard looked around to see the Elves helping the others back into the clearing, and they stood, with palms toward the sky in prayer, as they sang:
"A Elbereth Gilthoniel,
silivren penna míriel
o menel aglar elenath!
Na-chaered palan-díriel
o galadhremmin ennorath,
Fanuilos, le linnathon
nef aear, si nef aearon!"
Bard looked over at Thranduil, whose eyes were closed, and his beautiful velvet baritone joined in the song.
A loud, buzzing sound filled his ears, and it seemed to be coming from the burning body. Bard's eyes widened in amazement, as he saw a thick, black cloud emerge from the fire. It hovered for several moments, like millions of tiny insects gathered tightly into an undulating, opaque mass that blocked the view of the stars and the moon. The particles nearest the flames began to burn, like fireflies, then fell back into the fire, them more of glowed and fell, until the black mass had been completely destroyed.
A terrible scream filled the air, which sent chills down Bard's spine, before it faded into nothing.
"It is gone." Thranduil said, with great relief. "You did it, Meleth nîn, praise the Stars and all the Valar."
"Whatisgone? What the fuck was that thing?"
"I will explain while we clean your hands, so you can see the children." Thranduil motioned to the Captain. "Boe annin nên!"
Mablung handed him a canteen, and some cloth, and Thranduil poured water over Bard's knuckles, and began to wipe off the blood and matter.
"We do not want the children to see this, do we?" The Elf told him. "Do you remember when Iola threw herself off the walkway, and that terrible scene in my Garden?"
"How could I forget?"
Thranduil smiled, as he scrubbed. "Perhaps that is as well, Meleth nîn. Galion theorized that a lingering black spirit had been involved, and though we only surmised at it then, I am positive of it now. Jarod – the one they called 'Boss,' was no ordinary Man, Bard. He was what we call a Thrall, possessed with something much more powerful than anything we encountered that day. He had the ability to force others to his will."
"All the arrows missed him…" Bard recollected. "I couldn't believe it, but they did."
"I am not surprised. The Presence within Jarod had planned to possess younext, Bard, so you had to be the one to not only kill this Jarod, but throw him into the flames. That, and our prayers destroyed the Darkness."
Bard sighed and looked down, as Thranduil finished cleaning his hands. "I've never killed a Man before."
"I understand, Meleth nîn, but I am not sorry." Thranduil held them up and once he was satisfied his hands were clean, he kissed Bard's knuckles. "You were defending our family, and there is no better reason."
"I thought he killed you, too." Bard's eyes blurred again, and said, in a tight voice. "You tried to make things right between us, and if you had died... I don't think I could go on, knowing my last words to you were in anger. I couldn't live with that."
"Shhh…" Thranduil stroked his hair back, and kissed his brow, his eyes, his mouth, then pressed their foreheads together with a smile. "You love me very much." His Elf whispered.
Bard let out a little laugh. "And you love me very much."
"Forever, Meleth nîn. Now, let us go to our daughters."
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Lothlórien, early hours of the morning, 30thof May 2943 T.A.
Everyone around Galadriel's Mirror sighed with relief when they saw the Darkness dissipate
"Thank you for allowing me to see this, My Lady."
Galadriel put her hand on his arm. "We are not finished, Guardian. There is more that must be done."
"I do not understand."
She reached into her pocket and pulled own a small wooden box, and lifted the lid.
Daeron's eyes widened with shock as he saw the object in her hand...
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Forest in the South of Dale
Thranduil gave several orders in Sindarin, then led Bard to the others.
"DA!" Sigrid tore out from the trees, and into his arms, and began to cry. "I was so scared."
"Oh, my girl," Bard buried his face in her neck, and let out a sob of relief, then reached out and pulled Thranduil into the embrace. "It's over, love. It's over and done, and you're safe now."
Thranduil's long arms embraced his husband and daughter tightly and he closed his eyes and enjoyed their warmth.
Sigrid lifted her head, and looked at him. "You were in the fire, Ada! I saw you, I know I did, and your clothes…. How did you do that?"
"I will explain it all later." The Elvenking took off his cloak and wrapped their daughter in it. "Are you all right? Did they hurt you or anyone else?"
"No. Just took us, and put us in the wagon."
Bard searched her face. "Are you sure? They didn't try to… interfere with any of you?"
"No, Da."
Bard let out a breath, and hugged her again.
Thranduil kissed Sigrid's hair. "I am so proud of you, Iellig. I love you."
"I love you, too." Sigrid smiled, then turned to her Da. "How did you jump like that? You should have been killed, but you…"
"Again, Iellig, we will explain it all later, but for now, we must see to the others. Where is your sister?"
"She's over there with Ermon. Come on."
The rescue party had brought plenty of blankets and water to treat shock, and Ruvyn and Rúmil were speaking softly to Adila's children, and encouraging them to drink some water. Thranduil had instructed the Elves not to say anything about their father, or what their mother had been forced to endure. The bad news could wait, until their mother found a way to tell them herself.
Rhian and Hannah came over to them. "Thank you so much, My Lord," Rhian's voice shook. "Are you sure Darryn's all right? They told me my Da was still in the Mountain."
"He is," Bard told her. "Evan had some injuries, and he fought like a Warg to protect Darryn, but they're in safe hands, now. King Dáin is keeping watch over Dale, until this is finished."
"Thank the stars," Hannah said, and put her arm around Rhian, and as she spoke to Bard, Thranduil turned toward Tilda, and saw the look on Ermon's face, and terror filled his heart.
"Bard…" he grabbed the Bowman's arm.
"What is it?" Bard finished talking to Hannah, then saw. "Oh gods… no…."
They all ran to the Chief Healer, who was sitting cross-legged on the ground with Tilda in his lap, looking very worried.
Everyone knelt into a circle around the little girl, and Thranduil held out his arms to take her, while the others gathered.
"There is no more I can do, My King. I have given her something to stimulate her heart, but it will not help in the long run." Ermon explained quietly, and placed the Elvenking's hand over Tilda's heart. "Alae, Thranduil," he whispered quietly. "Ni dem angin, Aran nîn."
Thranduil swallowed, then his breath caught when he saw the truth of Ermon's words.
"Is she unconscious?" Sigrid asked.
"Yes, My Lady." Ermon looked at Thranduil and Bard, with tears in his eyes. "It is a blessing that she is, because she would be wracked with pain otherwise. I…am afraid you must prepare yourselves. Little Tilda's heart is too weak to go on. I have kept it going, until you all could say your goodbyes, My Lord. The only reason she is alive now is because Lord Thranduil is keeping her so." He looked down at the hand on her chest. "I am so terribly sorry, but her heart can no longer function without help."
"Oh, no… no...!" Sigrid begin to cry. "Save her, Ada! You have to save her!"
Thranduil's eyes filled, then spilled over. "Gi melin, Tithen Pen…nínion ne mened dhîn." She was pale, but still beautiful and innocent. So much joy she brought into his life, with her big blue eyes, and a sweet smile that melted his heart. From the very start she had captured him, and he was her willing prisoner.
The Bowman bent down and kissed her little brow and ran his fingers through her hair. "Little Bean… My beautiful little girl…" Tears fell from Bard's eyes onto Tilda's face and he wiped them off her cheeks. "What are we going to do without her?"
Sigrid lowered her head into Tilda's lap, and sobbed. "She can't! She just can't die, not after all this! You can't let her!"
Bard rubbed Sigrid's back. "It was a miracle she lived this long, darling. Ermon told us a while back that her heart wasn't going to get better. They've done all they can do, but it was inevitable."
"But why didn't you tell me?" She raised her head and looked angrily at Thranduil and Ermon. "You should have told us!"
"Maybe you're right," Bard's voice caught, "but we wanted you all to happy with the time she had left, so we could have good memories to carry with us."
"But I can't say goodbye, now, Da! How will she know how much we love her, if she can't hear us?"
"Sigrid, Iellig," Thranduil said softly. "She knows how much you love her. You held her and comforted her, did you not? I know you did this, brave Sigrid, because you have always looked after her and tried to be strong for her. Trust me and your Da, when we say our Tilda knows she was loved and cherished."
Sigrid said nothing, just shook her head, buried her face in Tilda's lap again cried even harder. Thranduil leaned down and kissed her hair.
He looked over at Bard and shook his head. "I am so sorry, Meleth nîn. I am so sorry. If I could, I would give my own life, you know that."
"I know, love." Bard looked at him tearfully. "I would do the same. We can't let her be in pain; she is sleeping peacefully right now." His voice wavered, and his lips wobbled. "It's time."
Thranduil looked down at their child. It was his power that kept her heart beating, and it would have to be his loving hand that would help her slip away to join her mother. Could he bear that burden?
Bard nodded, then leaned down and caressed Tilda's face and kissed her cheeks and her forehead. He picked up her small hand, kissed that too, and held it against his cheek. "I love you, Beanie. I love you so much. It's time to go see your Mam, now."
Please… Thranduil prayed. Please give me the strength to do this… Please…
He thought he could do it – he knew he had to but… his hand wouldn't move.
"I… do not think I can let her go," he shook his head and began to cry. "Forgive me, Bard, but…I cannot do it... I am not strong enough for this."
"I understand, love." Bard crawled closer to him, and looked into Thranduil's eyes, and held his gaze for a moment. A tear ran down his cheek as he pressed their foreheads together, then he placed his hand over the Elf's and interlocked their fingers. "I know."
He squeezed it for a minute, then slowly pulled it from Tilda's chest.
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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
Boe annin nên! – I need water!
Theninwen – strong girl
Alae, Thranduil –Look, Thranduil (lit."Behold")
Ni dem angin, Aran nîn – I am sad for you, My King
Gi mellon, Tithen Pen…nínion ne mened dhîn. - I love you, Little One… I cry upon your leaving.
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NOTES:
[1] Thrall: the state of being in someone's power or having great power over someone; a slave, servant, or captive. Melkor first developed Orcs from Elves who had been captured and turned into thralls. /wiki/Thrall-Noldoli
[2] /works/10838010/chapters/24520668
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