Chapter Forty-Nine
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SUMMARY: Thranduil fulfills a promise to the Warden Rumil.
The people of Dale reclaim the shores of the Long Lake, and Sigrid proves her worth as a Healer-in-Training.
The folk of Dale bid a fond farewell to the Wardens of the Galadhrim, and Tilda FINALLY gets to meet Galadriel!
And at long last, after a year of waiting and hoping, Daeron finally sees his love...
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Galadhrim Wardens:
Rúmil, Warden, (Captain)
Gerion, 2nd in command
Eriol, Lórien warrior
Lindo, Lórien Warrior
Cwën, Lórien Archer
Amaren, Lórien Archer
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Woodland Realm Guardians:
Daeron (Commander)
Elion (2nd in Command)
Amrol, Warrior
Haden, Warrior
Eilinel, Archer
Ranuin, Archer
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"We cannot decide to love. We cannot compel anyone to love us. There's no secret recipe, only love itself. And we are at its mercy-there's nothing we can do."
― Nina George, The Little Paris Bookshop
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City of Dale, 16th of August 2943 T.A.
"Good evening, Warden Rúmil," Thranduil smiled. "Please come in and make yourself comfortable."
The Warden stepping into the Royal Bedchamber, and took the seat that was offered, and gratefully accepted the goblet of wine Bard handed him.
After everyone was seated comfortably around the fireplace, the Elvenking began: "Last September, I made a promised to tell you, of your father's role in the Last Alliance. I apologize for not doing this sooner."
"It is quite understandable, My Lord. This past year has been rather… busy."
Thranduil smiled. "I thank you for your patience. I hope you do not mind if my husband joins us?"
"Not at all, My Lord."
"Please; no titles in here. My husband and I have declared this area free of rulers and politics. We invited you in this room because this is a personal conversation among friends, you understand."
"Of course."
"Glad to hear it." Bard sat back and crossed one knee over another, as he took a drink. "Now, I believe Thranduil promised us a story?"
"I did." The Elvenking's mouth became a thin line. "I do not often talk about the War of the Last Alliance, for… personal reasons. But my affection and esteem for your late father compels me to share what I know of him."
"I would not have you distress yourself on my account, My- I mean, Thranduil."
"You deserve to know what a brave Ellon your father was, Rúmil, not only to your people, but for mine, as well. I know you hardly remember him but for the stories you hear, and for that reason, I am anxious to add my own.
"I first met Halfar when I accompanied my father to King Amdir's tent at Dagorlad. You and all your brothers closely resemble him, though I think Orophin is closest to him in appearance."
"So many have said. I am often told how much I resemble my mother."
"A compliment indeed." Thranduil nodded. "Your mother was lovely, and an Elleth of quality in all she did. When I first entered Amdir's tent, Halfar was sitting beside his King and gave every appearance of loyalty, but I could sense doubt in him.
"The King of the Galadhrim spoke at length against Gil-Galad and urged my father not to recognize his authority. Oropher was unimpressed with Amdir, I assure you. He rightly perceived him as weak and egotistical, but he listened with all courtesy, then declared that he would make up his own mind. Amdir was clearly angry to hear this and began to 'repeat' comments he claimed the High-King of the Noldor made, regarding my father and his Kingdom.
"As Amdir spoke, I noticed Halfar's look of dismay towards Amdir, and though he did not contradict his King, I could sense these were falsehoods, used to try and manipulate my father into doing Amdir's bidding. Clearly, he wanted something from my father and his Army, but he did indicate what that was…yet."
"What did he want?" Bard asked.
"Amdir wanted to lead a charge against the Enemy and wanted Oropher to help him."
"But did your father not lead that charge?" Rúmil was confused.
"He did, but only because he was set up. Amdir, coward that he was, held back at the last minute, and sent my father, and many of our people to their deaths." Thranduil closed his eyes and shook his head. "It was a slaughter, Rúmil. And we all would have been killed, but for Marchwarden Halfar.
The Elvenking leaned forward and gave the Warden an intense look. "What I am about to tell you, must not leave this room, do you understand?"
"I will not reveal what it said here," vowed Rúmil.
"That day, as you know, Amdir was also killed, but what you do not know, is that the Marchwarden allowed it to happen."
"Surely not!" Rúmil was shocked at these words.
"It is true, though I promise you, it was out of loyalty to your people. You see, an Orc attacked Amdir, but Halfar had a split second to choose between him or young Prince Amroth. He knew his King's lies were the cause of all that bloodshed, and decided to put his faith in Amdir's son, in hopes that more of his people might survive."
"What happened next?" Bard asked.
"Halfar knew that Feren and I were out on that field, that both of our fathers were dead. He led a large band of Galadhrim out to rescue both of us, and get us to safety. Then he assumed command over both Silvan Armies, for the rest of that Battle. In the end, we were victorious, but at the cost of many, many lives." Thranduil sighed, sadly. "It was such a waste! And for what? For vanity? Amdir was a weak, egotistical ruler, who chafed at the idea that the High King was in charge."
"What did Oropher think of Gil-Galad? Did he agree with Amdir?" Bard's eyes narrowed, and Thranduil could see Rúmil was equally curious.
"My father was not fond of the Noldor. He lived through a Kinslaying in Doriath, led by the Fëanorians, and though Gil-Galad and Galadriel had nothing to do with that, he was wary. But how can one blame him for that? How could he not be at the sight of one Elf killing another over nothing more than jewels?" The Elvenking sighed. "Amdir resented the fact that Gil-Galad was in charge, and though my father did not like it, he was planning to go along with it."
"Why would Oropher trust the High King?" The Bowman was curious.
"Oh, he did not, but unlike Amdir, my father served his people, Bard. Their welfare was paramount in his mind, and though he did not care for Gil-Galad personally, he knew that only a united front would insure our survival. But Amdir began to feed lies to Oropher, and I am ashamed to say that I began to believe them myself. The King of the Galadhrim had a silver-tongue and was seductive and persuasive in his arguments."
"What was King Amdir's ultimate goal in all this?" Rúmil asked. "What did he have to gain by setting your people up?"
"He sent my father to his death, and was hoping that I would be killed, as well, so he could take possession of the Woodland Realm. After the Battle, Halfar confirmed my suspicions."
"Holy shit…" Bard's eyes went wide. "He murdered your father?"
"In a way, yes." Thranduil said quietly. "As soon as he saved Prince Amroth, Halfar quickly took command of the Silvans and set out to find me. I had been pulled off my horse, and was fighting several Orcs at once, and was about to be killed myself, when he moved in and quickly pulled me up and out of there."
"My father saved your life…" Rúmil said softly.
"He did."
"Tell me, did Amroth follow his father's lead in this?" The Bowman's eyes widened.
"Amroth was injured, so he had no say in that day. But for the rest of the war, he allowed Halfar command the troops, and he gave Feren and me a great deal of guidance. We lost two-thirds of our people in that War, Rúmil, but make no mistake, if not for your Adar, we would not have survived at all."
"He… saved your Kingdom?" The Warden's eyes went wide.
"I believe he did, or at least was a big part of it. I was deeply grieved when I heard he had died, Rúmil." Thranduil's voice grew rough.
"What happened with Amroth?" Bard asked. "Did he live up to Halfar's hopes for Lothlórien?"
"Sadly, no; Amroth was a romantic and a dreamer. There is nothing wrong with such things, of course, but a King must have...a strong constitution, for all too often, he must make unpleasant decisions; between what is easy, and what is right. Amroth proved to be as weak a King as Amdir, though thankfully not as greedy or devious."
"How so?"
"I know this story." Rúmil sighed. "Amroth turned his back on his people because he was in love with Nimrodel. She hated the Sindar and Noldor Elves, and refused to even live in Lórien, because of their dealings with other races."
"This is true," Thranduil agreed. "Nimrodel agreed to marry him, but only if they would live elsewhere, away from all that conflict. He was going to take her to Valinor, but she became lost, and he drowned."
"So, he left, just like that?" Bard was incredulous. "He walked out on his responsibilities, and left his people to fend for themselves? That fucking bastard!"
"I must agree, Meleth nîn. But in this case, thanks to Marchwarden Halfar, Lothlórien benefited from his exit. After Amroth was gone, Halfar looked after his people, and served them admirably, while he sent messages to Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. It was his idea that they come and rule what is now Lothlórien."
"He did that?" Rúmil gasped.
"Indeed, he did. In fact, when Amroth expressed his intention to leave, Halfar did not try to dissuade him. He was an ineffectual ruler anyway, and he had been thinking of others who might fill that role well."
"Why didn't he just become King himself?" Bard asked.
"Oh, they tried to persuade him, but he refused, because he knew the Galadhrim needed more than what he had to offer. Galadriel is an extremely powerful Elf, as is her husband, and Lothlórien needed protection. Rúmil, your father not only saved his own people, but mine as well, and I hold him and his kin in the highest esteem. It has been my privilege to see that same devotion and strength in you, Warden, and I am happy for the chance to know you."
"I am, too." The King of Dale smiled. "If your brothers are anything like you, Lothlórien is fortunate, and so is the Lord and Lady."
"Thank you," Rúmil lowered his eyes, modestly. "I thank you for sharing this with me… If you do not mind, I would like to take a walk and," he smiled, "'digest' all of this."
"Of course." The Elvenking stood up, as did Bard. "It is a lot to think about, to be sure." He clasped the Warden's wrist. "Once again, I must command you to keep this to yourself, but I think that is good that you know." He smiled at the Warden. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, and sleep well, having known your father a bit better. He is greatly missed, Rúmil, but you shall meet him again, one day, and now that you know, your embrace will be sweeter."
Rúmil was so moved by the Elvenking's blessing, all he could manage was an Elven salute.
Bard also held out his hand. "Hope to see you at the picnic tomorrow. Good night."
After the Warden left, Bard turned to him and wrapped his arms around the Elvenking's waist. "You did a good thing, love."
"I said nothing that was not the truth." Thranduil kissed the Bowman's nose.
"I thought…" Bard shook his head.
"What did you think, Meleth nîn?"
"I had this impression that all Elves were wise and… well, better at everything, but it seems you guys have to deal with arseholes just like everyone else."
"This is true. I myself was an arsehole for many years." He kissed Bard again. "Thanks to a certain Bowman, I think am slightly more approachable."
"You're still hard to impress, though." Bard's smirked. "I had to slay a Dragon, just get you to notice me."
"You did that for me?" Thranduil snickered, then took his hand. "Come, Dragonslayer; let us say good night to our family, then I wish to 'notice' even more of you."
So, they did, and he did.
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Shores of the Long Lake, 17th of August 2943 T.A.
The trek to the Lake took about an hour, and everyone traveled either by horse or wagon. Bard and Thranduil led the caravan, and neither were surprised at the quiet mood of the people.
"Hilda was right, you know," Bard said. "We need to see this again, and to make new memories of the water."
"I would have thought your people would be happier," Thranduil looked concerned. "I am surprised to see them so glum, and serious."
"I'm not. I don't really expect everyone to feel upbeat today, to be honest. Why do you think Tauriel didn't want to come?"
"I do not know. She simply asked if Nualë could go in her stead." Thranduil shrugged. "Did something happen to her, here?"
"No, I guess you wouldn't know," Bard met his gaze. "When she first brought the children to shore and left for the Mountain, Kili told her he loved her, and gave her his mother's stone."
"...and the next time she saw him, Bolg was plunging a stake into his heart," Thranduil sighed, "I had no idea."
"I wouldn't ask her too much about it, unless she's upset when we get back."
"I will do that." Thranduil looked around. "I cannot imagine the memories your people had, here."
"I know. I was one of the lucky ones. Stars, when my girls ran up to me, calling my name, I don't think I've ever hugged them so hard...". The Bowman's voice trailed off, then he shook himself. "Today is an important step for my people."
"Of course, it is; you are facing our past, reclaiming our heritage."
"Aye," Bard nodded with a sigh. "I'm only one of a few who are descended from Dale, but even so, I was born and bred on that Lake and it's… part of me. One day, it Laketown will be rebuilt and part the Kingdom. I know a lot of my people miss it, and so do I."
"Dales territories will expand even further, Meleth nîn, and the new Laketown will be a part of it."
"Maybe so, but one step at a time. I want Laketown finished in time for Bain to spend few years – get him ready for the Throne. If I had another son, I could give it to him. To be honest, I could give it to Sigrid, and I think she'd be good at it, but she's set on becoming a Healer."
"Sigrid is a strong young woman, but she would be miserable as a Ruler. Perhaps some other noble, or one of his sons? I see leadership qualities in Rhys, but his strengths lie in military matters. I would like to see him remain at Bain's side, to be to him what Feren is to me. Given time, and proper education, I think Bowen might grow up to be an excellent leader, if his devotion to his family is any indication."
"He's certainly loyal… We'll keep an eye on him and see what happens."
Thranduil then fell silent after that, and soon, the sound of waves could be heard over the next hill, and the caravan arrived at the shores of the Long Lake. Bard hadn't seen it since washing up on the shores on a cold, miserable November day, but now, the sun sparkled like diamonds over the rippling water, and the waves greeted them cheerfully. There were several boats along the shore, owned by several Men of Dale who still fished the Lake.
The people dismounted and got down from their wagons, and all stood and soaked in the sight.
There were tears, of course. Memories flooded everyone's mind of that day, but soon it was replaced by the sight of an old friend. This was their Lake; their history, and Bard could see many of them close their eyes and inhale the familiar smells in the air.
Bard stood in one of the wagons as the people gathered. After a Moment of Silence, to remember the fallen, he offered a prayer of thanksgiving to the Valar for all that had survived, and for their chance at a new beginning. He asked that Ulmo look down upon them all with favor, for they had worked hard, and asked for His continued blessings.
Then the people of Dale spread out their picnic blankets, opened their baskets and after enjoying a meal together, they celebrated. The Men and women all wore modest bathing outfits traditional to their people, and the Elves (thank goodness) followed their King's instructions and at least wore their undergarments.
As the day wore on, the somber mood lifted, and they were laughing and splashing in the waves.
Tilda had a wonderful time and spent most of the afternoon attached to Thranduil's back. "Swim faster, Ada! Faster!" Naturally, the Elvenking obliged, and soon only her head and shoulders were visible above the water, as she rode his back and giggled.
Thangon didn't seem to like the water and was content to sit on the shore and watch his family, but when he decided Bard was going too far out, he became worried and dove in waves after him.
"Get off me!" Bard pushed Thangon away and laughed as the dog reached him and tried to 'save' him. "You're going to drown us both, you fool. Now come on; settle down, boy..."
Eventually, the dog calmed down, and as soon as he was satisfied his master and family were in minimal danger, turned and headed back to the beach. Suddenly, he began to bark. "Woof! Woof!" swam off to Bard's left.
"What's the matter?" Bard treaded water and looked to where the dog was heading, and saw a boy flailing frantically and shouting.
"Oh, gods…" It was Ethan, Llewelyn and Seren's oldest boy.
"Bain! Sigrid! Help me!" Bard yelled, and frantically swam towards the child. Up ahead, he saw Thangon reach the child and dove under to try and lift him up. The boy scrabbled for a hold on the dog and became hysterical.
"Hang on Ethan! I'm coming!" Bard's arms and legs sliced through the water at a frantic pace.
"Right behind you, Da!" He could hear his daughter shout behind him.
Finally, he reached the boy, and managed to flip him around and hold him against his chest with his arm firmly across his front. "I've got you son. I've got you…" The boy struggled, then suddenly relaxed, as Bard took them to the shallow water. Thangon closely followed them both and whined as he swam.
"Is he breathing, Da?" Sigrid called.
"I don't know. We need to get him on the beach and see for sure."
Once they had their feet on solid ground, Bard stood and carried the boy ashore, with Thangon barking frantically. Sigrid joined him and wiped the water out of her eyes. Ethan's eyes were closed, and he looked very pale.
"Get him on the ground, now!" Sigrid ordered. Get some blankets!" Bard laid him down, as Sigrid checked his breathing, and held her ear against his chest. Then she pinched the boy's nose covered his mouth with hers, and blew several breaths. Then she rolled him on his side, as Ethan coughed and vomited an alarming amount of water, just as Seren ran up, with Liliwen on her hip, with Liam beside her, crying.
Hilda headed her off. "Just let them work, love," she soothed the frantic mother, then called over to Elénaril, who had seen the commotion and was making her way over with remarkable speed, despite being heavily pregnant. "Hurry! Let her through, people!" Then Hilda called out for extra blankets and put her arm around Seren.
By the time the Healer reached them, the boy was crying for his mother, and everyone was breathing a sigh of relief. Still, she checked the boy out thoroughly. "He's got a bit of a rattle in his lungs, but otherwise, he seems fine." The Healer waved his worried mother over and wrapped him up in one of the blankets someone offered.
Seren handed her daughter to Hilda and knelt and grabbed her son. "Oh, my boy… Oh, thank Ulmo…" She kissed his forehead. "What happened, Ethan?"
"I was swimming, and then I got a pain in my side… I shouldn't have been so far out, Mam; I'm sorry. I know you said to stay near the beach, but I didn't realize, honest!"
"You're just out of practice, that's all." Seren smoothed his bangs from his forehead and kissed it. "Can you stand?"
"I would prefer it if he rested the rest of the day," Elénaril said. "And I want him seen at the Healing House, tomorrow."
"No problem," Bard scooped him up. "Sigrid, give her a hand getting back up, would you please? Where's your blanket, Seren?"
"We don't have to go home, do we?" Ethan looked up at Bard. "I was having fun, honest."
"As long as you stay with your Mam, I don't see why you all couldn't stay, right?" Bard looked toward the Healer, who nodded.
"Just sit quietly, out of the sun. You will most likely feel tired, so if you need to nap, please do so."
"I'll stay nearby," Sigrid offered, as she supported Elénaril's elbow. "I'm done swimming anyway."
Elénaril smiled at the girl. "You did well, My Lady. This could have been much worse."
Sigrid blushed. "Thank you."
Bard's chest swelled with pride, and he smiled. Thranduil was right; their daughter was born to serve her people as a Healer, not an administrator.
By the time Bard and Sigrid settled Ethan with his family and a cool drink, the crowd had dispersed. Bain turned toward him, with awe on his face. "Wow… Sig knows her stuff, doesn't she?"
"That she does." Bard put his arm around his son's shoulders.
Just then Thranduil came up, with Tilda still riding on his back. "Is everything all right?"
"Aye." Bard said. "It really is."
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City of Dale, 27th of August 2943 T.A.
At last, it was time for the Wardens to say farewell to their friends in Dale. Last week, the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain gave a feast in their honor, which took them all several days to recover from, and today, Bard stood on the dais of the Great Hall and gave a speech, thanking them for their dedication and service.
At the feast afterward, many of the residents came forward with small gifts for them, and they were received with much appreciation.
Thranduil smiled when he saw Ivran dancing with Warden Cwën. "I think they will be happy together, Meleth nîn."
"I do, too." Bard leaned against him. "Did Celeborn decide to allow Cwën to live here, or will we be losing Ivran?"
"It was decided that the need was greater here, at least for now." He leaned forward and whispered. "Do not say anything, but her parents have joined the Lord and Lady, and are on their way. They wanted to surprise their daughter, and meet the Guardian who has stolen her heart. I would also imagine, once they are here, a betrothal ceremony will be held."
"I didn't know Elves had ceremonies for that. Usually among my people, it's a private thing; then some people have a party afterward."
"Elves usually exchange silver rings, which then are replaced with golden ones at the wedding."
Bard looked up at him in surprise. "Our rings are silver, though."
"They are made from Mithril, Meleth nîn, and will last for centuries. I am very glad they do not resemble typical Elven rings," he grinned, as he held up his ring finger. "Nothing about my marriage to you is typical, is it?"
"No," Bard smiled back, "it's not."
"What was your ring made of when you were with Mattie?"
"I didn't have one. Couldn't afford it, but she had a plain gold one. I had it in a box, to give to Sigrid when she was old enough, along with the set of keys my Da gave her to play with when she was a baby. It's probably sitting at the bottom of the Lake, along with the rest of my house."
"When we go back to my Palace, I will show you the rings Mírelen and I exchanged. I have saved them for Legolas, along with some other things."
"That necklace you gave Tauriel for her birthday a couple of weeks ago… That was Mírelen's wasn't it?" They had had a small family party to celebrate her begetting-day and her Ada had presented her with a small emerald-and-gold necklace.
"Yes, it was. While we were at the Palace getting Bain his horse, I decided I wanted her to have it, and brought it back with me."
"That's sweet of you, love." Bard turned to watch the Wardens, as they enjoyed themselves. "It's really not going to be the same without them, is it?"
"No. But our Guardians will return, and I have missed them."
"I'll be happy to see Daeron; I don't really know the other ones, besides Elion."
"He is now a Captain, and will be serving in the Realm, after he and Warden Airen are married." Thranduil observed their daughter sitting at the head table, picking at an invisible thread in her sleeve. "Ah… Meleth nîn, I think it is time to ask a beautiful woman to dance with me." He leaned in to whisper, "Do not turn around, but Sigrid is looking a bit woeful."
Bard gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Then I think the most beautiful Elf in the room should give her some attention."
"That will be no burden. Excuse me."
Thranduil got to his feet, then went to Sigrid and put his hand on her shoulder. "May I dance with the loveliest girl here?"
"Oh, Ada; you're just saying that…" Sigrid said, but she looked relieved.
He took her hand and kissed it. "I am not. You do look very beautiful tonight, and I want you to dance in the arms of someone who loves you very much. You must indulge me, for as much as I adore your father, he is not nearly as good a dancer as you, and I do not wish to have my toes stepped on."
She giggled and stood. "Then who am I to turn down such a kind request, My Lord?"
He led her to the dance floor, just as a slow waltz began, "Ah… Do you recall your birthday at the Palace? I believe I danced with you to the same song."
"That's right!" she brightened a little.
"Once again, your jewelry sparkles in the light, but not nearly as much as your eyes."
She leaned her head against his shoulder. "I love you, Ada."
"And I treasure you, Iellig." He kissed her hair. "Every day, I see you grow into the woman you will one day become, and it makes my heart sing. You are a credit to your father, and to your family," he turned and looked into her eyes. "and you are a credit to yourself."
She looked up at him, as he slowed down his steps. "Do you really think so?"
"I know so, my Sigrid."
She leaned against him and sighed. "Thanks, Ada."
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The Woodland Realm, 26th of August 2943 T.A.:
Daeron sighed, as their party saw the trees of the Woodland Realm in the distance, and began to approach the Gate.
"Home…" he murmured. "I did not realize how much I loved it, until now."
Elion, who was riding next to him, smiled. "Me, either. Despite the decay and the spiders… I think I love it more now. After spending time in a forest that was everything it was meant to be, I feel determined to protect our home, and pray it can be restored again."
"It would be wonderful, but also bittersweet, Elion." Daeron mused. "We are reaching the end times, I think, and it would be sad to finally see the forest as it was meant to be, then leave these shores so soon after."
"I know what you mean," Elion said thoughtfully. "In fact, if we do win the Final War, I do not think Airen and I would wish to leave. We both feel our place is here, on Middle Earth."
"What if we lose, and Sauron triumphs?"
"We will stay, until every last scrap of hope is gone, or give our lives in the attempt. I have fought for this forest for almost two thousand years, Daeron! How could I so easily turn away?"
And all of a sudden, Daeron realized he felt the same way. He had no pull towards the sea, but the love for Yavanna and all her works was in his very blood. And if he was able to marry Rhian, as he hoped, any hope of seeing Valinor would be gone, anyway.
"Mellon nîn, I think I agree. I do not think I will leave these shores, either, though my heart and my place is to protect Dale, until there is not a breath left in my body."
The party stopped at the Gates of the Greenwood, and the Lord and Lady dismounted and bowed before the stature of Queen Mírelen, and paid homage.
"I see someone has cared for her."
"We did, My Lady," Airen spoke up. "When we left last year, we took some time to clean her off."
"You have done well." Galadriel praised Airen and the other Guardians. "She was a strong and worthy Queen, and deserves no less."
"Welcome home, Guardians," Celeborn smiled at them. "Let us hasten to the Palace, where I am sure your families are awaiting anxiously."
They continued their North-Eastern trek for two more days, until finally, finally, the tall, graceful doors of Thranduil's Palace appeared!
Daeron's heart pounded in his chest. His family was behind those doors. Of course, he'd been separated from them many, many times, but this was different, and he ached to see them.
And she would be there… At that thought, he absent-mindedly rubbed is chest. Rhian…
"Daeron?" Elion smiled. "Shall we?"
"You are the Captain." the Lieutenant grinned. "Lead the way!"
The horns blew announcing their arrival, and the doors swung open, as the party trotted across the bridge. Cheers could be heard from inside the Palace and grew louder as the Lord and Lady entered. The party dismounted, then were taken to the Throne Room, where the King of the Woodland Realm received them, then descended the steps of his throne and bowed with all respect to his guests, as did his Consort, King Bard and the rest of his family.
Daeron stood at attention with the rest of his unit, but barely concealed a grin at the sight of little Princess Tilda, who was clasping her hands together and practically jumping up and down with excitement. She looked cute, in a light blue dress, and a narrow diamond-encrusted headband. She waved at him, and he winked at her, then she waved at the Lord and Lady, and would have run to them but for Lady Hilda, who grabbed her arm and whispered to her to wait until after the ceremony.
"You'll get to see them, Little Bean, but we must pay them the proper courtesies, first." Daeron heard her whisper.
"But I wanna see Gallerdil!" Tilda said, a little too loudly, and everyone in the Throne Room laughed.
Thranduil held out his hand. "Come forth, Tithen Pen."
Tilda let go of Hilda's hand a raced over to her Ada, who took her up in his arms. "You must pardon our little one, My Lady. She has hardly been able to rest, out of eagerness to see you."
Galadriel laughed with delight. "Ni veren an dhe ngovaned a vedui, Princess Tilda!"
Tilda lowered her head and gave the best Elven salute she could manage while in Thranduil's arms. "Dhe suilannon, Lady Gallerdil!" she said brightly, "I didn't know you'd be all 'glowy like that!'" Tilda then turned to the Lord of the Golden Wood. "Dhe suilannon, Lord Celebornd!"
Celeborn bowed his head and said, "Êl síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn, Brennil Vuin." He kissed the little girl's hand and grinned at Thranduil. "You have quite the little Ambassador, do you not?"
"We do indeed, Ettā. Please allow me to introduce her father and my husband, Bard, son of Brand, King of Dale."
Galadriel offered her hand to a flabbergasted Bard, who kissed it with the utmost courtesy. "Well met, My Lord and Lady. Please, allow me to thank you again, for my daughter's health. Were it not for your efforts, Tilda would not be alive to break Royal Protocol in such a fashion."
The Lady of the Golden Wood laughed. "It was my pleasure, King Bard. I am happy to meet the Man who has brought a light into our dear cousin's eyes once more."
Celeborn stepped forward and saluted. "Lord Bard, I am honored to meet you. You are everything Thranduil said you would be, and I congratulate you both on the occasion of your marriage."
"Please; allow me to introduce you to the rest of our family," Thranduil took them over to where the children were standing with Hilda and Percy. Hilda stared at them in amazement and curtsied so low Percy had to help her back up. He bowed, and tried to say something, but couldn't seem to manage it, but for a nod.
"This is Bain, son of Bard, Crown Prince of Dale." Thranduil was saying.
"My Lord Bain," Galadriel bowed her head. "I am honored."
"I… am honored to make your acquaintance, My Lady; My Lord."
Daeron watched, as she looked deeply into the boy's eyes and held his gaze for a few moments. Bain had grown during the past year, and his voice was lower. The Guard could see shadows of the man - the King - he would become, one day.
Sigrid was introduced, and the Lady gave her a kind smile, then looked at her for several seconds. Daeron knew Galadriel was "seeing" her, much the same as she did when he first arrived. Bain had seemed slightly uncomfortable with it, but Sigrid seemed embarrased, then greatly relieved, as if they held a silent conversation, and the girl was relieved of some sort of burden.
"Thank you, My Lady," the Princess curtsied.
Daeron smiled at his parents, his Aunt Indis and Uncle Ómar. Turamarth was standing beside Hilda and he couldn't help but smile when their eyes met.
He wasn't surprised that Rhian wasn't in the Throne Room. She was probably waiting with Darryn in the Royal Wing somewhere. At that thought, his heart began to pound again, and his stomach flipped.
He wanted to see his family, of course, but he needed to see his Hind Calen, and his hunger for her became unbearable.
After a short speech to welcome the returning Guardians home, they were dismissed and Daeron ran over to hug his family.
"I am so happy to see you, Ion nîn!" Idril exclaimed. "You look wonderful!"
"I have missed you all!" Daeron said and hugged her again. "It is so good to see you!"
Adamar embraced him. "Are you glad you went?" he whispered.
"Yes, Ada." Daeron murmured back. "I will never forget it."
"Then I am happy for you." Adamar stepped back. "You have grown; I see it in your face."
"Where is my hug?" Indis pushed forward and embraced him. "Oh, my dear nephew… My heart shines to see you like this. Are you well, truly?"
"I am, Aunt."
Turamarth came up and grabbed him, and hugged him, hard. "Welcome home, Gwador, although I will miss Rúmil; he was much neater than you ever were."
"Admit it; you missed picking up after me," Daeron returned his cousin's embrace, then looked around. "Where is Rhian? Is she waiting with Lord Ben and Darryn?"
Tur looked at his parents then back at him. "Lord Ben is here, but Rhian…"
"What? What is wrong?" Daeron's heart nearly stopped. "Is she all right?"
"She is fine; I promise. It was just that Darryn has a slight cold, and she did not want to leave him in Dale."
"Oh," his heart sank, and he tried to keep the disappointment from her voice. "I see…"
Turamarth smiled and put his arm around his shoulders. "That is why you are going to take Sandastan and ride him to Dale this afternoon."
"Your horse? But I cannot; I—"
"Yes, you can. I spoke with Lord Thranduil before you arrived, and it is all settled. You can borrow some of my clothes in our apartment," he handed Daeron the key, " and we will bring the rest of your luggage later." He nudged the Guardian. "You know you want to, Gwador; now, go."
"Ada? Nana?" he looked at his parents eagerly. "You will not mind?"
"Go; with our blessing, Ion nîn. We will see you in a few days."
Daeron looked at his family. "I love you all very much…"
Tur laughed. "Why are you still here? My horse was saddled as soon as you arrived, and is waiting at the stables, with some snacks and drinks. Begone!"
After a loving look of gratitude, the Daeron raced through the Palace and was off.
When he reached the plains before Dale, his heart sang. There were the high walls of his home, and his love - his life - was waiting there for him. He urged Sandastan to go faster and clung to his dun-colored mane as they raced. He smiled and sang with joy, as the horns blew, and after he identified himself, the Western Gates opened to let him through.
"Thank you!" he called out to the Gatekeepers.
"Welcome home, lad!" the man called back.
Daeron raced through the streets and up toward the Courtyard, then turned left at the last street before its entrance.
He was on the street where she lived.
And she was in that last house on the right. She was there…
At last… Thank you, Varda, Queen of the Stars…
His hands shook as he brought Sandastan to a stop, and when he dismounted, he was dismayed at how weak his legs felt. He stopped and forced himself to take some calming breaths.
"Ci athae, Mellon nîn." He whispered to the horse, as he stroked his nose. "You have brought me to my future."
Sandastan butted him hard in the shoulder, pushing him away, as if to say, what are you waiting for?
Daeron took more deep breaths and walked up the porch and lifted his hand to knock, but noticed the front door was partially open. For a second, he panicked, thinking something terrible had happened, but then he heard a female voice singing.
It's her… She's on the other side of the door…
His hands were still trembling, and he couldn't make them stop, so he quietly pushed the door open and entered the house, following the voice of the woman he had loved for so long.
And there she was.
His Rhian. She was facing away from him, singing a lovely song about spring:
"The rose puts on her red;
The leaves on the trembling trees
Grow forth with eagerness.
The moon sends forth her brightness…"
Her hair was half up; the rest cascading in brown waves to the middle of her back, and she was wearing a dress of green, and he could see the ties of an apron in the back, as she held a large bowl of something she was mixing with a wooden spoon.
Ai, ma… She is so beautiful, he thought, and his eyes filled with tears at the sight. Never in his life would he forget this moment…
He took a step closer, and reached out for her, just as she turned around still looking down at the bowl full of batter.
"Rhian," he whispered softly. "Hind Calen, Meleth nîn…"
She looked up and saw him, and Daeron's heart nearly leaped out of his chest at the sight of her beautiful face...
Her eyes flew open wide, and she gasped.
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"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" Her screams filled the air as the contents in her arms went flying.
"Ai!" His hand flew to his eye, after the wooden spoon struck him. "Naeg!"
Then the huge bowl flew at him, painfully knocking him backward, and covering him with cake batter.
"AMARTHFAEG!"
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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
Ni veren an dhe ngovaned a vedui, Princess Tilda! – I am happy to meet you at last, Princess Tilda!
Dhe suilannon – I give greetings to you
Êl síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn, Brennil Vuin – A star shines on the hour of our meeting, Beloved Lady.
AI! NAEG! - EEK! OUCH!
AMARTH FAEG! - EVIL FATE!
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