Chapter Forty-Eight

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SUMMARY: Gandalf and the others return, Bard and Thranduil bid the King of Harad farewell. The family finally takes that vacay to the Palace, and Thranduil introduces his husband to an old friend.

Daeron's year is over, and while he is eager to return home, it's still hard to say goodbye to his friends and to leave the most beautiful forest on Middle Earth.

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"I want morning and noon and nightfall with you. I want your tears, your smiles, your kisses...the smell of your hair, the taste of your skin, the touch of your breath on my face. I want to see you in the final hour of my life...to lie in your arms as I take my last breath."

― Lisa Kleypas, Again the Magic

City of Dale, 15thof July 2943 T.A.

Five days after they flew off, Gandalf returned on Gwaihir, with a triumphant look on his face. Landroval accompanied them, bearing only Prince Azimullah.

"Where is your brother?" the King of Harad's eyes were frantic.

"Jammell is well." Azimulla reported to his anxious father. "He is leading the caravan back to our Palace," the Prince smirked. "He…did not care for the heights."

"I cannot say I blame him," Abdullon approved. "But tell me, were you successful?"

"Just a minute; where's Bert?" Bard demanded.

Gandalf got down from Gwaihir's back and raised his hands. "It was a triumph, and Bert is fine. We must thank the Eagles, then we'll discuss the details."

"Right." Bard went over to the Eagles and bowed low. "Lords of the Air, once again, you honor us."

"The honor is ours, King of Dale." Gwaihir then turned his giant head, and addressed Abdullon. "I would speak with you, Majesty."

The Harad King stepped forward for a private consultation, then Abdullon bowed low and saluted him. "I thank you, Lord of the Mighty Wind."

"We will await you."

Once the Kings and Gandalf gave their courtesies, the sound of their wings flapping was like thunder, and their everyone's hair flew in the wind, as the birds took off.

Once in the conference room, Gandalf gave his report: As soon as Eredan was destroyed, Gandalf quickly rescued Steward Turgon, who ordered the arrest of all in his Council and Staff who had been in concert with the Thrall. They were immediately taken to the Hill of Guard, and thrown off the edge of rock that jutted out of the eastern face of the City.

The Wizard smiled at Bard. "Bert behaved admirably. I think he has begun to redeem himself in his own eyes."

"That's good news. Was he with you?"

"He was with Ecthelion, and every place on Bert's list was raided at once, and the criminals were captured or killed in the attempt. He did more than save those children." Gandalf's face clouded over. "There were many other victims, besides the Haradrim, and Bert asked to remain there, and help them."

"Will he be all right, do you think?"

"I do. Ecthelion has given him a place to live, and a decent salary, which he says he can use to help his family in the Wold. He asked me to convey his deepest thanks to you for showing him mercy."

"Your Majesty," the Wizard handed Abdullon a piece of paper. "All but five of your missing children on this list have been recovered, and are on their way back to their families. Lord Gwaihir has asked his associate, Meneldor the Swift, to fly over the caravan."

"Thank you," Abdullon said gratefully. "Can you say what happened to the others?"

"I'm afraid they are dead, according to witnesses. Three died from a fever, and two from… injuries. My condolences."

The King sighed. "Still, this is more than I could have wished for last summer. At last, this nightmare is over."

"As far as we can see, yes." The Wizard put his hand on Abdullon's shoulder. "I understand your own granddaughter was one who was taken?"

The King nodded his head. "She was. But she will be in her mother's arms, very soon."

"Then I am happy for you. I must ask you to keep something in mind, Your Majesty," Gandalf looked intensely at the Harad King and the Prince. "Sauron will continue to send servants to seduce you, to encourage your paranoia. You will have doubts, but I beg you to remember what we accomplished here, and remember the friendships you have made. Teach your sons, and your son's sons, of the friends you have here in the North."

The next day, Gandalf left on his horse to meet up with Radagast, and the last of the Haradrim made ready to head for home.

The caravan was in the Courtyard, and the the Kings of the North and their families said goodbye.

Abdullon was emotional, as he gave his formal farewells. "I am glad to know you all, and count you as friends," he said.

"It is a privilege to know you, as well, Your Majesty," Bard bowed, then embrace him. "I wish you and your new great-grandson every joy."

Thranduil smiled and offered a blessing in Sindarin for a safe journey, then the children came forward to bow and curtsy, and Tauriel saluted him and wished him well.

"You are very kind," Abdullon smiled. "Prince Bain, you will make a fine and brave King, with your fathers to set such an example. I wish you well. As for the beautiful Princess Sigrid, I wish you success in your desire to serve your people as a Healer. And Princess Tilda, I have enjoyed knowing you. Your curiosity is a gift, child. Never let it go." He leaned down and whispered, "and if you decide to become a teacher, work hard on your spelling." He gave her a wink, then stood straight and tall, as he mounted his horse."

"The Elves await you at the tower, to collect your prisoners." Thranduil told him. "Safe journey to you all."

Once the party was through the gates, with their prisoners walking behind in shackles, Bard and Thranduil went to the Eastern Parapet, to watch them leave.

"Look!" Thranduil pointed to the sky. Two specks appeared, then became bigger and a cry from the Eagles was heard. In the distance, they saw the caravan stop in the middle of the flat plains.

"What are they doing?" Bard asked.

Thranduil shielded his eyes from the sun. "They are taking the chains off the prisoners."

"They're WHAT? You must be joking!"

"Wait... Do you see what the Eagles are doing?"

The Bowman looked closer, then gasped, "Holy shit balls…"

The Windlord and his brother grabbed a prisoner in each of their giant claws, then flew over to the nearby mountain range and violently dashed them against the rocks from a height that would leave no unbroken bones. The remaining criminals were screaming and running for their lives, but it there was no escape, and within minutes, all seven bodies were left as food for the vultures and other carrion.

"Now it's finally over," Bard said, as he reached for Thranduil's hand. "That was tough to watch, but I wish I'd thought of it… Thranduil? Hey…. What's wrong, love?"

The Elvenking was frozen to the spot looking very pale.

"What is it?"

"I… had a vision, Bard."

"Here, love," Bard grabbed his arm. "Let's get you out of the sun, and find you somewhere to sit."

Once they were down the steps, he found a bench in the shade and sat his Elf down. "Tell me what you saw."

"It was a terrible battle… before the walls of Minas Tirith, and the Harad were there, riding creatures bigger than any Oliphant, with long spikes tied to their tusks. The Harad men's faces were painted..."

"They were fighting Orcs?"

"No," Thranduil swallowed. "The Rohirrim shooting at them, throwing spears…. I heard a leader of Men cry out, 'Bring it down, bring it down…"

"Oh, gods…" Bard was crushed. He closed his eyes, rubbed his brow. "So, all this was for nothing?"

"Do not say that, Meleth nîn," the Elvenking put his hand on Bard's arm. "Was your reason for helping those children simply a strategy for political gain?"

Bard sighed. "No, you're right. We did it because it was the right thing to do." The Bowman shook his head. "I'm sorry; I'm just so disappointed."

"I am, as well," Thranduil admitted. "Still, we planted the seeds of peace, which is all we can do. I have to believe that it will mean something."

"Maybe, the Harad won't fight us, here." Bard reached out and took his hand. "Maybe our efforts help the North win, when the time comes."

"We will cling to that hope, Meleth." Thranduil sighed.

"Come on; let's head back, for some lunch. I'm starved."

"I would like that." Thranduil kissed him. "I received a letter from Celeborn this morning. He and Galadriel are coming with the Guardians."

"Really? Tilda will be busting her buttons! Will you be meeting them at the Palace?"

"I thought we all could go. I know we are leaving next week, but why not take advantage of the summer holiday, and take them again? Traveling will be difficult once school starts."

"Don't see why not. Hilda wants to have this big picnic on the shores of the Long Lake before then, so I don't think it'll be a problem."

"Really?"

"Aye. Most of us were born and bred on the water, love. She says we need to get back to it, and get past our memories of washing ashore after the fires. We'll reclaim our heritage and make us that much stronger."

"What a wonderful idea," the Elvenking grinned. "Will Elves be invited to this?"

"Don't see why not. We'll ask her."

"I will need to know right away, so I can speak to my people, before they attend."

"Elves swim, don't they?"

"Oh, yes!" The Elvenking laughed. "Do not tell Hilda, but Elves prefer to swim naked."

"Ah. That could be awkward." Bard kissed his Elf again. "Proceed at your own risk. If she sees Elven bits and bobs bouncing in front of the Valar and everybody, the Mother of Dale will whip your arse"

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The Woodland Realm, 29thof July 2943 T.A.

All but one of Beriel's puppies had been purchased by members of the Elven Army, and he wanted to deliver them personally, then use some of the money to buy a pony for his six-year-old brother Maddox. Thranduil's kingdom did not have any ponies, but they found a small, gentle dark mare that Maddox could grow into.

Thranduil offered to help pay for her, but the boy politely refused, saying, "Thank you, My Lord, but you and Lord Bard were nice to let me to keep all the money from the pups. Maddie helped me take care of them, and I want to surprise him."

In the end, the Elvenking agreed, but insisted upon paying for the little mare's saddle and bridle and such.

Once that business was done, Bowen, Rhys, the rest of the children, tore around the Palace to see their friends, who still lived there with their new Elven parents. Alun spent some time with his mother, Ina, who was doing well, and enjoyed her days there. Rhys, to Alun's surprise asked to see his grandmother this trip, and their visit was cautious, but clearly a beginning.

This afternoon, Thranduil took all the boys out to the paddocks, where several fine horses from the Woodland Realms had been culled, for Bain choose from.

"What do you think, Ion nîn?"Thranduil asked Bain, as they walked with Falarion around the paddock fence.

"I like that one, Ada." Bain pointed to a large, dark stallion with a white mane and tail, and socks on his back legs.

"Can you tell us why you think so?" the Elvenking asked him.

"Well, I like his color. He's striking, but it's more than that. Look: he's getting along with the others; I don't see any biting or kicking, while we've been watching them, and I think he's sure of himself. I like the way he tosses his head and trots around, so he's got some energy."

"Very good! Now, what about his gait, have you watched how he walks?"

"He's not favoring any of his legs, and see the muscles in his chest and shoulders?"

"I do," Thranduil said, with a hint of pride in his voice.

"They're well-developed, so he's strong." Bain looked to his friends. "What do you guys think?"

"I like him," Bowen said.

"I do, too. And I think he'd get along with my horse," Rhys nodded. "The last thing we need is fights, when we ride. And Bowen's mare won't go into season unless the Elves let her, so that's another problem solved."

"You are wise to consider this, Rhys," Falarion approved. "Your horsemanship has increased leaps and bounds since you first started. You and Prince Bain are not ready for full-sized War Horses yet, but it will not be long."

"That is true," Thranduil seconded. "But the horses you own now will put your safety first."

"I know." Bain said, quietly. "Bregolas saved my life."

"He did!" Rhys told Falarion. "I saw him rear up and take an arrow aimed at right Bain's head! I couldn't believe it!"

Falarion was sad, but pleased. "Then he served his master well." The Horse Master put his hand on Bain's shoulder. "I am sorry you lost him, but I am glad to know you honor his sacrifice."

"I'll never forget him." The Prince said, in a solemn tone.

"Right," Rhys clapped his hand on Bain's back to cheer him up. "Now, let's see this horse you picked out."

"Shall we take him to a stall for closer examination?" Thranduil asked his son.

"Yes, please." Bain looked eager.

Falarion bent down to crawl in between the fence rails, and retrieve the horse, but Bain stopped him. "Could I get him? I should find out right away if I can handle him."

Falarion nodded his approval and handed him a rope.

"Thanks, but I won't need it." He said, politely.

Rhys and Bowen looked on with fascination, and Bain slowly walked over to the stallion, murmuring gentle words in Sindarin and Quenya. The horse stopped and stared at the boy, tense as Bain slowly reached out to pet his nose, then rub his ears. He relaxed, and his tail began to swish, as the boy took hold of his halter, clicked his tongue, and led him over toward the group.

"Well done, Ion nîn!" Thranduil smiled. "Falarion, what is his name?"

"This is Sílnaith, which means 'Shining Spear,' in Westron. He is bigger than Bregolas, and Lord Bain's observations were correct: he is well-developed and very strong. However, he has a gentle demeanor, and would be an excellent choice. As a first horse, I would not recommend him, but if you have been keeping up with your riding, Bain, you could be ready. I would like to see you ride him, to be sure."

"I agree." Thranduil said. "Saddle him up, then you can put him through his paces."

For the next hour, the group leaned on the fence of the smaller paddock, as Bain walked, trotted and cantered Sílnaith around the ring, as Falarion commanded.

"Your posture has improved, Bain! Well done! Now, walk him… good! Now, drop the reins and use your knees… trot him… keep going… faster, faster! Very good! Now, use the voice signals…"

"I don't know how to use my knees, yet." Bowen said, as he watched.

Thranduil looked at the young boy. "Did you not learn this when you were here?"

Bowen shook his head. "I didn't get to do much riding. Mam had the new baby, and she was so tired, and sad after losing Da. I needed to be there to help."

"What you did was right, Ionneg." The Elvenking squeezed his shoulder.

"Can Vórima do that?"

"All horses from my Realm are trained so." Thranduil gave him an encouraging look. "Turamarth is an excellent mentor, Bowen. He will not stop until you are an expert horseman, so trust him to know when you are ready, but I want you to know that your horse protects you even now."

"She does?"

"Yes. Think about the day of the attack, Bowen; what did Vórimado?"

Bowen looked over at Rhys, then said, "All the horses kept us from getting hit. I mean, they were aiming for Bain, but Vórimadid this huge jump sideways, then raced to the Mountain, even before Turamarth told her to. I could barely hang on!"

"Me too!" Rhys added. "Tur threw Bain on his horse, then told them all to get us to Erebor! I never went so fast in my whole life!"

"Elven horses are are remarkable, aren't they?" Thranduil squeezed Bowen's shoulder again, and smiled at both boys. "I am thankful that Bain has such loyal friends, to support him unconditionally, and to keep his confidences. When he is King, he will rely on the two of you more than you can imagine, sometimes more than you will want him to. But he cannot bear all these burdens alone, can he?"

"I'll be there." Rhys vowed.

"So, will I." Bowen seconded. "I promise, too, My Lord."

"Then our son is a fortunate young man." Thranduil smiled.

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The Woodland Realm, 30thof July 2943 T.A.

The family and friends had finally managed the outing that had been called off last year, because of Ellyn's death (though no one mentioned it in front of Bowen). They enjoyed the sights and sounds of the Woodland Realm in the summer, and when they found a clearing and spread their blankets, they enjoyed a nice lunch then relaxed.

Sigrid and Hilda leaned against a tree trunk and read some books while the Guardians helped the children climb up the trees. Bard was sleepy and relaxed beside his Elf, but Thranduil was gritting his teeth, and clenching his fists. And holding his breath. And when he wasn't clenching his fists and holding his breath, he fidgeted.

Bard chuckled, and kissed his cheek. "I'm proud of you, love."

"Hmmm?" Thranduil replied absently. His gaze was riveted to the tree on their left, where Ruvyn was carefully helping Tilda upward. "They seem to be...having a good time do they not?"

"Ruvyn's not going to let her fall, you know that. Nor will Turamarth, or Ivran, or any of them. And they're not even going that high, see? Look at them!"

"I know…" The Elf mumbled nervously. "I am not quite used to seeing her so active. What if she is not strong enough?"

Bard smiled and took the berry tart from Thranduil and set it down. "Go on. I know you want to."

"You would not mind?"

"Nope. Now, get up there with the Little Bean, and show her how it's done, yeah? You're not going to be happy until you do. Go one, love; have some fun." He kissed his cheek.

Thranduil was on his feet in an instant, and swinging up the branches before Bard finished his sentence. Bard grinned, folded his hands behind his head, and settled down for a pleasant nap.

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The next day, the Kings made another trip into the woods, for a long-awaited introduction.

"You know, I'm actually kind of glad we didn't get to do this last year," Bard said, as he followed Thranduil through his forest.

"Why would you say that, Meleth?" The Elvenking gave him a puzzled look from his saddle. "I thought you wanted me to show it to you?"

"I do! But last year, I didn't know I could hear trees." Bard grinned. "Now, I'll learn all your secrets and stories of your wayward youth. This is going to be fun!"

Oh, this area was everything Thranduil said it was! One could almost forget that most of the Kingdom was sick; as far as Bard's eyes could see, was green grass, summer wildflowers, and tall trees with green leaves. The sun shone through the trees, and sparkling on the forest floor, and the horses were relaxed.

"I get why you love this so much." Bard breathed in the sweet air. "I spent my whole life on the water, and smelling fish morning, noon and night, living in a house I could never get warm enough to keep the chill away. That place had a dampness that can settle in your bones, and drained the life out of you."

"I'm sorry, Meleth nîn."

"When I got that job working for you seven years ago, I was still stuck on the water, but I had a chance to see this forest, and I fell in love with it, long before I fell in love with you. I saw life here, and it filled up some of the emptiness in me. I saw the trees, and the plants and the birds, and all the animals; a whole world opened up to me."

"Did that help with your depression?"

Bard gave his Elf a grim smile. "Yes and no. Yes, because I began to envision a life that could be different for me and the kids. But I couldn't see how I could do it. I wanted off that fucking water, more than anything! As much as I loved my people, and I truly did, I could never leave them to fend for themselves, even if I had the money to pack up and start somewhere else. In the end, it all made me feel hopeless, you know what I mean? Every time I loaded my barge and headed for home, I dreaded it."

Thranduil stopped his horse, and reached out his hand. "And yet, the Valar saw what you were doing, and now you are here."

Bard took it, squeezed the Elf's fingers, and kissed his knuckles. "Aye. Here I am." He swallowed, and his throat tightened. "I think about all that, and I ache for that person I was then, does that make sense?"

"Yes, it does." Thranduil smiled. "Ah. Here we are."

The Kings hobbled their horses, and they walked over to the biggest oak tree Bard had ever seen.

"This is the tree that I have been telling you about, Meleth nîn." The Elvenking smiled and patted its trunk. Almost every Elf seems to become attached to one that becomes special. We do not go looking for it, mind you. Somehow, we…find each other. I cannot explain it, but it is like this tree was waiting for me to find him."

Bard looked up in wonder at the sheer size of it. "It's really beautiful. What kind of relationship can an Elf really have with a tree like this?"

Thranduil didn't answer. He just smiled, and swung himself up gracefully onto the lowest limb, and began to climb, while Bard followed him. The Elf settled on a large branch and leaned against it and sighed with pleasure. The Bowman did the same, on slightly lower branch off to his side.

"When I was growing up, I was an only child, as was Feren, but my parents were the rulers, and as much as they loved me, the needs of our Kingdom meant interrupted dinners, canceled plans, and many, many days where I would barely see Ada and Nana. Galion did what he could, of course, but he also had his job to do, and I was left to caretakers and servants.

"But my tree was always had time for me. No matter what time of day or night, or season or weather, or how little or how long, I always knew what I could expect from him; a steady friend who would listen to me. I would sit up here, lean against his trunk like this, and tell him all my secret thoughts, my fears and my hopes. I could be in a terrible mood, and shout out all my anger, and he remained as steadfast as always."

Bard looked up at him. "That sounds wonderful."

"Do you know, the first thing I did after meeting Mírelen, was to come here, and tell him about her? My tree was the first to know I wanted to marry her."

"Did you tell him about me?"

"I have not had the chance. That is why we are here, today, Meleth nîn." The Elf turned and held out his hand. "Come up and join me. And we will tell him together."

As soon as Bard was settled with his back to Thranduil, the Elvenking put his arms around him and held him close. The Bowman closed his eyes, leaned his head back on his husband's shoulder, and listened to the words in Quenya spoken in soft, reverent tones.

Images began to show themselves in his mind, which he instinctively knew weren't from his Elf, but from the giant Oak:

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A small, blonde Elfling with big ears eagerly climbing as high as he could go, until the tree became concerned and moved his branches to stop him.

Another time he was crying, because his father had promised to show him how to shoot with his brand-new bow, but had to cancel, and he had been gone for weeks.

It was dark, and the mischievous Elf sneaked out of the Palace to climb, and fell, and the Oak managed to stop him from getting killed, but he had broken some bones. The tree sang to soothe him, until the Guards finally found him.

The Elfling was older now, and about to go to war. Oak was sad for him, but Thranduil was eager to travel and see more of Middle Earth. And he would be with his father, the Mighty King Oropher! What could go wrong? "No," he told Oak, "you're mistaken; this will be an adventure!" But the tree remained concerned.

Then a newly-returned, very reluctant King, sat in Oak's branches, heartbroken and weeping. He missed his father, and was frightened for his mother, and felt…tainted after all the things he had seen. And he had lost part of his face, to the Dragon.

"How could anyone ever want someone as ugly as me?" he asked Oak. "Why would anyone love such a freak?"

Suddenly, Thranduil was back, looking much like he did now, but much more settled and confident. And he had a beautiful, dark-haired Elleth with him, who he introduced as his new wife. Oak was overjoyed and waved his branches with glee at his friend's happiness.

Then the couple returned, to show off a small bundle. "A son! I have a son!" Thranduil's face was lit up and life couldn't be more perfect. Again, the Oak celebrated his bliss.

Then Oak grieved; the trees had been whispering their grief for weeks that the Queen was dead.

A while later, the Elvenking was sitting up high, but he didn't talk, or sing, or weep. He looked at Oak with blank eyes, then leaned his head against the trunk and stared into space, for hours. Thranduil could not weep, but Oak lovingly stroked him with his leaves, and wept for him. Many times, over the centuries, the King would return and sit for hours in silence, but he allowed himself to be comforted, and that was something.

Then Bard saw the two of them, as they were right now, and he felt the utter joy of Oak, and learning that his friend had found happiness again. No words were spoken aloud, but somehow Thranduil was telling his old friend of his marriage, and of his life in Dale with his new family.

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Bard opened his eyes and laughed, as smooth leaves lovingly caressed his arms and his face. "I think your friend likes me," he whispered. "Thank you for sharing this with me, love."

His response was the warmth of arms that tightened around him, and a kiss on his temple.

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City of Dale, 8th of August 2943 T.A.

"Good morning, sweetie!" Rhian went into the nursery to see her little son standing in his crib, grinning at her. "You look happy, today."

"Mama!" He smiled. "Mama!"

"Yes, it's Mama. Can you give me a kiss?" She picked him up, and he leaned forward and touched his mouth to her cheek. "That's my good boy!"

She took him over to the table, and as she took off his soaker, then his nappy, the boy pointed to Daeron's picture. "Ada!" Then he laughed. "Ada!"

She picked up the frame. "Is this Ada?"

Darryn laughed, as Rhian looked lovingly at the Elvenking's sketch. "Ada's coming, Little Man; did I tell you? Yes, he is!" She tickled him. "He's coming to see me, and you, and Grandad... Ada loves us, Darryn! What do you think of that?"

"Ada!" The baby kicked. "Ada, Ada, adadada!"

"Soon," Rhian whispered, then kissed the image of the Elf. The days seemed endless, she was so anxious to see him!

The little boy reached out his hands. "Wan' that!"

She laughed. "Do you want to kiss Ada, too?"

Darryn smiled and wiggled his fingers as he reached.

"Here, little man." She grinned. After several sloppy kisses, Rhian cleaned the glass, and placed it back on the shelf. Then she kissed her finger and touched his smiling lips. "I love you…"

Then she finished changing the baby and began her day, hoping it would go by quickly.

She was ready.

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Lothlórien, 16thof August 2943 T.A.

Last night there had been a feast to say farewell to the Guardians of the Woodland Realm, whose stay in their land had come to an end. Daeron, Elion, the brothers Amrol and Haiden, Eilinel, and Amras all received high praises from all those who worked with them, and each in turn stood and gave a short speech to thank everyone for their incredible experiences here.

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Daeron had been summoned to the Healing Hall earlier, and his associates presented him with a special chest to store herbal remedies and various surgical instruments. With it was a smaller kit, built to fit in a saddle bag.

"I do not know what to say," Daeron ran his fingers lovingly over his gifts. "This is exquisite!"

"Say you will think of us when you use it, and that will be thanks enough." Penlod stepped forward to embrace him. "Thank you. You have helped me, more than you know."

"You helped yourself, Mellon nîn. I merely provided a listening ear." Daeron smiled at him. "I am glad you have learned to be happy."

"My turn," Orlin hugged him tight. "Write to us often, and be sure and invite us to the wedding!"

"I will. Thank you all!"

Early that morning, Haldir made him go over his room twice, to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, then the Marchwarden rolled his eyes and re-packed everything. The brothers were staying in Lothlorien, to run things in the Lord and Lady's absence.

They both had gifted him with several bottles of wine – the same vintage they drank when Rhian sent her letter. "Share it at your wedding, yes?" Orophin grinned. "But not too much…"

"I will. You've been a wonderful friend." Daeron whispered, as he embraced him.

"I still am!" the Warden laughed, then became serious. "If you need anything, anything at all, we will come, Gwador, for you are family, now."

"And I promise the same." Daeron turned to Haldir, and his throat tightened. "I hardly know what to say, Mellon."

"Say 'thank you for packing for me, Haldir!'" Haldir laughed. "Your cousin will be pleased, when he opens your trunks."

"Perhaps Turamarth will think I did it myself?"

"I highly doubt it." Then the Marchwarden took a small box out of his pocket. "It is tradition to give a gift to a bride yes? I would be grateful, Mellon, if you would give her these from me for her wedding day."

Daeron opened the box to find two beautiful combs, with a delicate design done in gold, bedecked with several small jewels; pearls, garnets, and diamonds.

"Oh, Haldir… These are exquisite!"

The Marchwarden swallowed. "I had them made years ago, to give to Itaril when I had planned to ask her to marry me."

Daeron swallowed, and whispered. "I do not know what to say."

"Again?" The Marchwarden smirked. "This time, I will not put words in your mouth. I will say that these have been hidden away for far too long. I do not want them to be merely a reminder of my regret. They were made to be worn by someone who is loved. Think of me, when you see them shining in your Rhian's hair."

Daeron grabbed the Marchwarden, and hugged him for several minutes. "I will," he whispered gruffly. "These will be an heirloom of our house, and will be passed to our children, and our children's children."

Haldir looked into his eyes. "I would like that very much."

After the trunks had been taken, the Elves made ready to head down to the forest floor.

Daeron held back. "Go on ahead; I will be along in a minute," he said.

The Guardian walked through the empty, silent rooms, as echoes of conversations, laughter, pranks, and occasional tears, filled his heart. He had truly felt at home here, thanks to the Marchwarden and his brother, and Daeron smiled as he went out to the balcony to take in the view, one last time.

His original intention for coming here was to escape heartache, and he had managed that, to some degree. But what he had gained, as a soldier, as a Healer, as an Elf, was so much more.

He was more, now, and it made him glad.

He went to the front door, and last look, and a sigh, he closed it behind him, and made his way down the steps.

He was ready.

.

.

.