18
Chapter Fourteen
SUMMARY: Tilda has a good night, snuggled up with her Da. Before everyone wakes, Thranduil and Galion have a heart-to-heart. Daeron meets and educates the family about her illness, and outlines a treatment plan for her. They discuss ways to keep all the children in the Palace safe.
Thranduil and Bard meet with Hilda for a frank discussion; it's time she was made aware of some things.
Later, as Tilda naps, Daeron reflects on all the changes in his life, since he came to Dale...
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Morning in The Woodland Realm, 9th of February; 2942, T.A.
Thranduil got up early, put on his robe and peeked into the nursery. Meriel was still there at Tilda's bedside, and Bard was sitting against the headboard, fast asleep, holding Tilda to him, with his hand on her hair. Esta, true to form, was right beside them, with her head resting on Bard's leg.
"Good morning, My Lord." The Healer whispered. She stood, and they went to the doorway, and spoke in low tones.
"How is she?"
"Lady Tilda awoke in the night, spoke a little, and had some tea and broth. She was very happy to see Lord Bard." She smiled over at Bard and Tilda. "I am pleased to see her sleep so deeply, on her own. Daeron and I discussed a losta-luith, but it appears she does not need one."
Esta jumped down from the bed, and went over to them, wagging her tail, excitedly. "Mára arin, Esta." He leaned down to scratch he behind the ears. "Esta would not be eager to leave, if she thought Tilda needed her; this is a good sign, is it not?" he asked the Healer.
"I believe so, My Lord. I have checked the child frequently throughout the night, and I can find nothing amiss, besides weakness and exhaustion. No sign of infection, no fever, and her lungs sound satisfactory. She has coughed some, but that is to be expected."
He told the Healer he would return momentarily, then sent Esta out with a guard. After he closed the door again, he leaned against it for a few moments, with a sigh. The rest of the household would not be awake for another hour or so, and he found the stillness soothing.
Gwennig nestad; De vilui, O Elbereth… He closed his eyes and gave thanks that he was merely waiting for his family to awaken, and not helping Bard plan a funeral.
Thranduil walked over to fireplace, and looked on the mantle. There were now several framed sketches that had joined the ones of Legolas and Tauriel, and he lightly passed his fingers over his drawing of Tilda, with a small smile. The door opened, and Galion walked in. He was earlier than usual, too.
"Aur vaer, Thranduil. How is our Tilda?"
"She is sleeping soundly. Bard is with her, and she had an uneventful night, thank the Valar."
Galion looked relieved. "That is joyous news." He sighed. "How do you fare? Are you well?"
"I slept last night, so I feel stronger."
"That is good." Galion scrutinized his face closely.
He gestured for Thranduil to sit on the couch, and went to close the door to the children's apartment, and sat beside him. "Thranduil, you have been through a great deal in the last several months, and these past days have been unspeakably hard. I wish to know if you are all right."
Thranduil sighed, and thought about it. "I am… overwhelmed. And frightened."
"Why are you frightened?"
"I failed to protect her." Thranduil blinked, as his eyes filled. "Bard trusted me with his children, and Tilda got so sick…"
"Tilda's illness is no reflection on your care or concern, Thranduil. That is no failing of yours, or anyone else's." Galion said. "You love her very much."
"I do." his lips trembled. "I am afraid for her, but I am afraid for myself, as well. What if it happens again, Galion?"
"What happens again?"
Thranduil looked down into his lap, and rubbed his forehead. "I am afraid of… turning into what I was, if she dies, or if any of them should die, no matter how much I do not want to."
"Are you afraid of shrinking away from life, as you did when Mírelen was killed?"
"I ran away from my feelings for a long time, and I feel myself struggling not to do it again. If Tilda had died, would I turn back into an icy, unfeeling monster, again?"
His friend spoke gently. "Mellon nîn, you were never that. Since you've been with Bard, you have learned a great deal about yourself, have you not?"
Thranduil nodded, still looking down. "You told me it is not a matter of strength or weakness, it is a matter of knowing oneself. My mother said something similar, when we said farewell at the Grey Havens."
"I remember," Galion said. "And she was right."
Thranduil smiled sadly. "I am sorry it took me so long to understand what she meant."
"It does not matter how long it took. All that matters, is that you did."
The Elvenking looked at him. "Loving someone can be frightening."
"Thranduil, it is always a risk when we love, is it not? And we do not choose it; we oftentimes have no choice in the matter. All we can decide, is what we do with this risk."
"Suppose Bard died? We talk of forever, but Mithrandir did not guarantee either of us freedom from death, despite the blessing from the Valar. Bard and I do not like to think about it, but times like these remind me I could lose him, too. I could lose them all!"
"Yes, Thranduil, you could. It is normal to fear such things, especially after you have experienced heartbreak. But ask yourself this: You tried to avoid love, so you could to avoid loss. Did all those centuries 'hiding' make you stronger? Did it really protect you, as you hoped it might?"
Thranduil considered. "No," he sighed. "It did not."
"So, you know yourself even more, now. You are changed, Ion-nauth nîn, and I do not think you will suffer so again."
Thranduil looked at Galion. "If I did, there are many who would not let me fail myself again. Daeron did that very thing, yesterday."
"What do you mean? What happened?"
"When Tilda had her seizure, I was sure she was dying, and I… got lost; I froze. Daeron had to be harsh, and forced me back to the present, to help Tilda. I was glad, and I thanked him for it."
Galion smiled. "Sometimes we all need, as Hilda puts it, 'A good kick in the arse,' to get us back where we want to be. Daeron did what was necessary to snap you out of it."
"When Legolas was small, you lost your temper, because Legolas needed me, and I was hiding from it. I should have listened to you then, but instead I got angry, and pulled rank. It was wrong of me." Thranduil smiled. "From now on Mellon nîn, I command you, as your King, to never let me command you, as your King, to stop telling me things I need to hear."
"I shall have that edict written signed and sealed, within the hour." Galion deadpanned.
They laughed, then Thranduil became serious. "It is selfish, to be talking of myself, after what Tilda went through."
"No, Thranduil." Galion said. "Times like these remind us how much we need to look out for each other, do you not think?"
The Elvenking gave a sad smile. "As you looked out for me, yesterday."
"You needed a chance to express your sorrow, Thranduil." Galion assured him, then he added, softly. "Much like I did, when I went to my rooms last night."
Thranduil leaned forward. "You spend all your time caring for others, and I often forget that you need support. For this, please forgive me. I wish to know how you fare, Mellon nîn."
"I…" Galion swallowed. "I could not imagine what our days would be like, if our Tithen Pen left us. I have found joy in caring for her, seeing her smile so brightly when she spells a word correctly, or her look of concentration when she is drawing a picture, or when she naps on my couch." He reached for Thranduil's hand. "They are all part of my heart, but to have our little one be in such danger…"
It was Thranduil's turn to be strong for Galion, and he reached over and embraced him. "We could not be the family we are, without you. I could not be anything, without you! You are my touchstone, as you always have been, Galion. You give so much, and yet you get so little in return. I am sorry for that."
Galion sat up straight. "That is not true, Thranduil. It is in my nature to look after those I care about. I feel stronger, when I can help others be strong. It is how the Valar made me."
"But it seems unfair that you do not have anyone. I do not understand the will of the Valar, in this. I have loved not once, but twice! You are alone, because my father did not return your feelings. It seems cruel, to me."
Galion didn't seem surprised that Thranduil knew. "Please, do not worry about me. At one time I did desire Oropher, and yes, I've always loved him, but now I see I was not meant to live that life. What if I had, Thranduil? Look at all the people your father brought into my life because he loved your mother, and not me? I have loved helping to raise you, and Legolas and Tauriel. Now we have Bard and his children. And someday," He grinned, "there will be grandchildren! From the loss I suffered, I have gained much, much more."
"I hope you know, my father loved you, as the dearest of friends. So did my mother."
The Aide smiled and squeezed his hand. "He did, and he never begrudged me the feelings I once had."
"Adar knew?"
Galion nodded. "Shortly before his marriage to your mother, I decided to leave his service, thinking there would be no place for me. He came to me, and we talked for a very long time. He told me how it grieved him to hurt me so, but he needed me in his life, if I could find a way. He knew he could trust me like no other.
"Your father and I made sure there was nothing hanging between us, and, in the end, I decided to stay, and I have never regretted it. I wanted to be by his side, Thranduil, and I never again sought what he was unable to give me. I grew to care about your mother, very much. On the day you were born, your father asked me to look after you, should anything happen to him, and it has been my joy to keep that promise.
"I discovered I needed no bond-mate to feel complete. I did not 'settle,' for this life, Thranduil; do not pity me." Galion smiled at him, and patted his hand. "If everything I do is out of a deep love for you, for them, and for our home, how could my life be empty?"
The Elvenking looked over at his Adar-nauth. "You may think your place is behind me, Galion, but that is not so. You are the bedrock to my life; you are the foundation for everything I do and everything I am, every bit as much as my parents, and I never want to take that for granted."
"Thank you." Then Galion sat back and smirked. "And do not worry about taking things for granted. If Hilda ever caught any of us doing that, she would be certain to let us know, would she not?"
There was a knock at the door, and Daeron entered, carrying a large bundle of what looked like clean laundry, followed by Esta. He set it down on low table by the couches. "Good morning, My Lord," he saluted Thranduil.
"Good morning, Lieutenant. I thought you were sleeping in Rhys's room."
"I was, but I rose some time ago to consult with my books and to retrieve some things. Has there been any change?"
"Meriel reported that all was well. She is sleeping soundly, in the arms of her father."
Daeron nodded. "That is good. I hate to disturb him, but I must speak with you all, before the children wake up."
The Guard sounded ominous, and Thranduil's stomach stirred with anxiety. "I will go get Bard, and Galion, would you get Hilda?"
"Of course."
Thranduil and Daeron walked into the nursery. As the Guard quietly conferred with Meriel, the Elvenking thoughtfully watched Bard and their daughter sleep. Tilda was in the same position she was in before, snuggled closely to her Da, with her head on his lap. She had hardly moved, since they brought her back from the bathing pool.
He sighed sadly. That was so unlike her; she normally kicked and flailed her legs all through the night. On the nights she crawled into bed with him, he normally found it annoying – and on one occasion painful. This morning, as Thranduil watched the pale, sleeping girl, he offered the Valar anything they wanted, if she could be given the chance to kick at him again.
Thranduil stepped over to the bed, and shook Bard gently, and whispered. "Bard? Meleth nîn, Daeron would like to speak with us."
The Bowman blinked, and opened his eyes, and took a moment to orient himself. He looked down at Tilda. "Is something wrong?" he whispered.
Meriel was quick to reassure him. "She is still doing well, My Lord. I will watch over her."
Ever so gently, Thranduil and Bard managed to get him out of the bed, and settle her back down, and Esta settled beside her.
Once everyone was in the living room and seated, Daeron began to speak:
"This morning, I spent some time with Lord Elrond's books and my own notes concerning this type of Brain Fever, so I could be sure of all the facts. With your leave, I would like to outline my concerns, along with a treatment plan for Tilda, and I will need your cooperation."
"Of course." Bard said. "Anything."
Daeron nodded. "Tilda will be constantly monitored for the three or four days, but the fact that she did not deteriorate in any way last night, is an encouraging sign. If she continues as such, then the danger will pass. I still urge caution, because, there are things that we must consider.
"First, when Tilda first became ill with her cold, Lord Thranduil might have appeared to overreact, but in this case, he did the right thing, by isolating her from the other children. For the most part since then, only Elves have cared for her, and they are impervious to disease.
"Lady Hilda has also been in her room, but she has made sure to wash her hands thoroughly, so as not to spread Tilda's cold to the others. This works in our favor because," he blew out his breath, "I have discovered that Brain Fever can be contagious."
The four of them froze, in shock.
"Oh, gods…" Bard stammered and his face whitened, and he grasped at his stomach, and looked desperately at Hilda, who didn't look much better.
"What do we need to do?" Galion asked, after he took Hilda's hand.
Daeron continued. "We will take all precautions, and I will monitor the children closely. For now, they seem perfectly healthy."
Galion, confirmed this to Bard, "We have been watching for signs, and see nothing, My Lord."
Hilda reassured Bard. "He's right, love. There's nothing wrong with them."
"That is reassuring, but they need to stay in this part of the Palace for at least four days, at this end of the hall. None of us can be near other children, in case we are unwitting carriers. We must especially avoid any contact with Rhian and the baby, or even my aunt Indis. I know this seems extreme, but considering how close Tilda came to death… I do not want any other child to suffer."
"It is not extreme, if children could be endangered." Thranduil said, and all the other adults readily agreed.
"But the other children have been to school; even yesterday!" Hilda became alarmed. "Galion and I have been nagging after them day and night to scrub up and clean up, but what if one of them gets sick?"
Galion turned to Bard, "When Tilda first got sick, Hilda ordered us all to wash our hands frequently. We have also repeatedly washed things, such as handles, door knobs, the backs of chairs… anything we all touch."
"Aye. That's what we did back in Laketown. Medicine's expensive, what little there was of it." Bard affirmed.
"That is very clever." Daeron said. "If we continue to do this, then there will be minimal danger."
Bard thought for a minute. "But there's still a chance this could spread to the other children of Dale?"
"It is not likely, since Tilda was already isolated when she began to deteriorate. However, Lady Hilda, I suggest you speak with Mistress Bronwyn, and if you all decide to take precautions, I will be glad to help you put a plan in place." He turned to Bard. "This type of illness may not be as contagious as the others, but it can be devastating."
"You're right." Bard told him. "We'll follow your lead in this, and I grant you full authority to protect my people in whatever way you see fit."
The Guard nodded his thanks. "This brings me to the second thing we need to speak about: Tilda's body is extremely vulnerable, and will be for quite a while. She has nothing to fight off illness and disease, and even a very minor thing could devastate her. To that end, I want anyone who goes to see her to fasten their hair back, and scrub their hands thoroughly before entering the room, and to put on one of these light robes over your clothes. Wear a clean one, every time you go in, and discard it as soon as you leave the room."
Daeron continued, "Elves, do not suffer from illness, but we could carry particles on our clothing that could harm her right now. Those from the race of Men, must not only wash and wear the robes, they must cover their mouth and nose, as you are susceptible to sneezing and coughing, and could send harmful particles through the very air she breaths." He held up a small pile of clean kerchiefs. "You must wear these over your mouth and nose while you are in her room to prevent further illness."
Everyone nodded in agreement, but Thranduil met Bard's eyes, meaningfully.
"How long would we have to do this?" Bard asked.
"For at least two weeks, maybe more, depending on how Tilda recovers."
Galion then asked, "What about Esta?"
Bard added. "From what I've seen of the dog, I don't think you could keep her away, willingly. Besides, you said she can alert us to any change in her, before she even shows symptoms. She could be her best chance at preventing more complications."
Daeron agreed with all of that. "Has she been with Tilda exclusively, since she became sick?"
"Almost all the time, yes."
"I suggest she be given a bath, then make sure she keeps to the nursery. If the children wear masks, so they do not cough or sneeze on her, they could wash her. They must be instructed not to pet her. We will wipe her down every time she comes in from outdoors, especially her paws. Keep her confined to Tilda's room, or the King's garden; nowhere else. The benefits of her with Tilda outweigh the risk, so we will do what we can."
Thranduil nodded. "All will be as you say."
Daeron took a deep breath, and continued. "This recovery, is the third element we need to speak about. Have any of you seen the effects of Brain Fever?"
Hilda closed her eyes, painfully. "Oh, yes, and it kills me to even think of it. It usually hits small children, and they almost always died. Some recovered, and went back to normal, but there were a few who…" she couldn't finish the sentence. Thranduil looked over at Bard, who didn't look much better.
"There was a boy, who was blinded, and lost most of his hearing. Another girl about four years old, was left a vegetable." Bard added.
"It is a terrible thing to think about," Thranduil took Bard's hand, "but I spoke frankly to everyone yesterday, and we are all resolved to accept and support Tilda, however this illness might change her. I hated to frighten them, Meleth nîn, but I wanted to give them time to adjust."
"Lord Thranduil is right. We were given encouraging signs last evening, and this is good news. What is working in Tilda's favor, is that the disease became acute while in the presence of myself, and Lord Thranduil, so it was dealt with as quickly as possible."
"However, we will need to watch her closely for a long time afterwards. Some effects of Brain Fever are not immediately apparent, so we need to monitor her hearing, her sight and her personality, and most of all, her heart. Everyone must make note of anything out of the ordinary, even if it seems minor, please make me aware of it, so I can measure her progress or find new ways to help her.
"Lady Tilda's memory could be temporarily affected, and there may be things she will not remember at all. We must be calm and very patient; if she cannot remember something, never get upset in front of her. Her moods may change very suddenly and she could become combative, if she gets upset or frustrated, yet we must remain calm, and encouraging, as her body learns to compensate."
They all sat in silence, for a few moments, while all this information sank in. Thranduil could feel Bard's hand shake in his, and he squeezed it even tighter.
Hilda wiped her eyes, stood up, setbthings in motion. "We've got a plan here, so let's get to it. Galion, let's get everyone a good, hot breakfast. Bard, you go get the kids up, so we can explain what's going on. Thranduil, have a guard bring Bronwyn to your study, so we can discuss what to do about school. When we're done with that, Bard, you need a bath, and a good nap; you look as terrible as Thranduil did, yesterday. Come on, everybody, let's get this done!"
And they did.
.
.
Daeron sent for more special tea and broth for Tilda, and the children got up for breakfast. They were given a kinder, gentler version of Daeron's speech, and naturally, they agreed to help Tilda as much as possible.
Bronwyn was sent for, and the adults met in Thranduil's study across the hall, while Galion and the children remained in the apartment.
"I told Thranduil the kids are stronger because of all the good food you've been feeding them, so that should help. I'm surprised so many even caught colds at all." Hilda observed.
"You are right about the nutritious food, Lady Hilda, and it helps them a great deal," Daeron said, "but keep in mind that your people live on land now, and are coming into contact with different things, such as plants, and animals. I suspect it takes a while for their bodies to adjust, but in time, they will."
"So, is that why Tilda got so sick?" Bard asked.
"Perhaps. Her illness was rare, and it was a complication borne from another illness, My Lord. She may have been susceptible because of all the changes in her life. Lady Hilda says she's always been a bit sensitive, so that could be a part of it. In any case, the treatment and the precautions for everyone are the same."
Bard turned to Bronwyn, "He's right. Please tell your parents that I want them to report to the Healers as soon as they see any kind of illness in their children. Repeat to them what Daeron just said, and hopefully, that will convince them. And go ahead with the quarantine."
Thranduil added. "Rather than send the children to the Healing Hall, I will have my guards keep watch, and send the healers to them."
"Even better, My Lord." Daeron said, and Bard nodded in agreement. Then they hammered out the details of their plan, and the Guard and Schoolteacher made ready to carry it all out.
After Bronwyn and Daeron left, Thranduil and Bard asked Hilda to stay.
"We need to talk to you, Hil; there's something you need to know. Otherwise, I'd have to lie to you, and I won't do that."
Hilda looked bemused. "I don't understand. What's wrong?"
"There's nothing wrong; it isn't like that. Some things have changed, and you need to know about it." Bard looked at Thranduil, then back at his friend. "There was… more to my marriage to Thranduil, than just the ceremony, and we were strongly advised to keep this to ourselves, until we knew everything this would entail. Gandalf warned that things could be misconstrued by others, and we didn't want to burden anyone until we knew more."
"What is it? If you're wondering if I know about Elven birds and bees, don't worry. I already know all about that."
Thranduil leaned forward. "Hilda, as you know, there are many differences between Men, and Elves. Until now, there have rarely been any marriages between the two races. It is also very unusual for Elves to fall in love more than once.
"Bard and I are… a unique case, and it is a long, involved story. To sum it up, we were offered, by the Valar, special dispensation to marry."
"Because you're both men? And Kings?"
"Not at all, Hilda, the Valar offered us one of two choices; either I would bind with Bard and become Mortal, and follow him to his afterlife, or he would become Immortal, and join me in Valinor when the time comes for us to leave Middle Earth."
Hilda's eyes widened, when she looked at the Elvenking. "Are you saying you won't… You'll die, now?"
Bard said gently, "No, Thranduil will not die, Hilda, and neither will I." He leaned forward. "I've chosen his fate."
The woman sat back, and let it sink in. "Bard? You mean…?"
"Aye. I won't age, or become ill, and I will not die, unless I'm killed. Even at that, I won't be with any of you in the afterlife. I will be with Thranduil in Valinor. The fact that I won't age, is one of the reasons why Gandalf urged secrecy, for as long as possible. I'm telling you now, because I won't be wearing a mask when I'm in with Tilda; I didn't want you to think I was being careless. I think Tilda will do better, if she can see my face, and I won't wear one and lie to you."
"But… why wouldn't you tell me or Percy! We're your best friends, Bard! We wouldn't tell anybody!"
Bard nodded. "Of course, I trust you two - with my life! I would have told you anyway, I promise. It's just that…I think I needed some time to adjust to it myself, before I shared that with you. I'm still trying to figure it all out, Hil. I was afraid you'd see me differently, and I honestly couldn't bear it, no matter how happy I am with Thranduil."
"Of course, we wouldn't think of you differently, you foolish man!" Hilda shook her head in exasperation. "You went from Bargeman to King, and Percy and I don't think of you any differently did we?"
Bard shook his head sheepishly. "No, you didn't."
"And we don't treat you any differently, except in public, and even then, Galion has to jab me in the ribs to make sure I use your title. I understand what you say about dealing with things, and needing some time, but I don't care if you turn purple and start hanging off the chandeliers, love. You're our Bard, and you always will be."
Thranduil took Bard's hand. "I am very sorry if you feel slighted, Hilda, but please believe us; it was never intended as a lack of trust. We were protecting you from the burdens that come with the knowledge of something like this. If it became known, it could affect the people's trust in Bard, and we cannot let that happen. We especially wish to keep it from the children, before they're old enough to understand."
Bard smiled at her. "So... You're not mad?"
She rolled her eyes, and shook her head. "Next time you'll think twice, before you kill a Dragon, become a King, and marry an Elf, won't you?"
Bard laughed, "Yep. Live and learn, yeah?"
The woman sat back and crossed her legs. "Can I ask why you chose to be like Thranduil?"
He nodded, and told her, "Of course you can. I did it for Thranduil and the Northern Kingdoms. Do you remember Percy telling you about the Necromancer in Dol Guldur? He told you who it was, didn't he?"
"Yes, he did. And now he's gone, and good riddance. He also told me there'd be another war, but I don't think about it much. There's too much to worry about now, and we'll all be long gone before then."
The Elvenking said, "You are right, in that your concerns should be more immediate, but if I chose to become Mortal, my people would be leaderless in this upcoming war, and I cannot abandon them, not when so much is at stake."
"And I have an opportunity to help Dale, if I can, Hil." Bard added. "I won't abandon my people, either; not if I can do anything to save them. I'm willing to pay the price, to benefit my family and my people. Do you understand?"
Hilda nodded. "I suppose I'd do the same thing. Does Percy know? Because I don't keep secrets from him."
Bard shook his head. "No, but I promise I'll tell him as soon as possible. It'll have to wait until we are face-to-face, though. Nothing about this can be in writing."
"That's smart." Hilda said. "Why do you say, 'pay the price?'"
Bard told her grimly. "Because there is a price, Hil, although it doesn't seem like it now… I won't die, as I said, but I also won't be seeing any of you in the afterlife, when you leave Middle Earth. I won't see Mattie, my parents, or you all, when you pass on. Please understand; I chose this freely, and know it's the destiny I'm meant to follow, but" His voice became rough, "I will watch you all grow old and die, and you'll all leave me."
"But you will never be alone, Meleth nîn. Not now, nor in the grief which is to come." Thranduil said softly. "We will get through it together, and cherish our memories."
Hilda smiled at the two of them. "You did good, marrying this boy, Bard. If and when that day comes, I'll be sure and tell Mattie all about it."
"I already have, Hilda. Mattie wants this for me, too." Bard said.
Hilda leaned forward. "What in blazes are you saying?"
Bard took a deep breath, and told her (and Thranduil, who had never heard the details), of all that happened, when Mattie appeared to him. He told them everything she said, and how he felt her hand on his heart, her kiss on his lips, and even the push she gave him, when she said, "Now, be off with you, my handsome man, and bring the world home for supper!"
Bard's eyes filled with tears, and told Thranduil. "She said that to me every morning, when I would go off and work the fishing nets. She wanted me to be with you; she wanted me to have this. But… it's more than that, love." He swallowed, "She wanted me to have a chance to say goodbye."
At those words, Hilda grabbed her handkerchief and began to cry.
.
.
When they re-entered Thranduil's chambers, they all had breakfast, then the Kings went to sit with Tilda, while Hilda, Galion and the children set to work, cleaning both the apartments from top to bottom, and making arrangements to bathe Esta. They seemed glad to have something to do besides wait and worry.
After their midday meal, Thranduil took the children out into his private gardens for some fresh air and exercise, before they sat down with Galion to continue with their lessons for the day.
Thranduil smiled down at their daughter, as she slept. "I am very sorry, Meleth nîn," he whispered, "but there are things I must do in my office, although I would rather be here. I should only be a few hours."
"That's fine, love. You know where I'll be."
They kissed softly, and the two Kings went their separate ways, for now.
Tilda was just waking up, when Bard and Hilda walked into her room. He sat down on her bed, and stroked her hair back. "Hey Beanie," he said softly.
"Da?" She looked confused.
"Yes love, it's Da." he smiled down at her. "I saw you last night, do you remember?"
She shook her head, then said. "I got sick."
"You sure did, love. That's why I wanted to come and see you."
Tilda looked at her Auntie Hil, and pointed to her mask.
"Oh, don't you worry, Beanie," she said. "Auntie Hil has a little cold, and I don't want to give it to you." Her eyes smiled above the mask. "It looks funny, doesn't it?"
Tilda nodded her head. She pointed to their gowns, then wrinkled her nose, and frowned.
Bard and Hilda laughed. "I know, sorry." Bard said, and Daeron looked confused.
"She detests light blue," Hilda explained. "Always has, since she was really little."
The Healer smiled and shrugged. "I am very sorry about that, Tilda. They only come in this color, I am afraid. We wear them, to protect you from illness, until you are stronger."
She made a face, but didn't say anything.
Bard laughed. "Tell you what, we'll have the Tailor's Guild make up some more, how about that? We're going to need them, anyway. And I'll bet I know what color you'd like."
The little girl didn't say anything, but her face showed a struggle to come up with the right word. Then she shook her head.
Bard tried his best not to show his nervousness. "Want me to tell you some colors, and you can nod your head?"
"Uh huh." She nodded.
"So, how about green? No? Purple? Oh, I know, red!" Then he grinned at her. "Or, maybe…pink?"
"Pink." She said, smiling a little.
"Very good, darling; that's what we'll do. Would you like us to wear different colors, or all pink?"
"Pink."
Tilda looked around on her bed, but didn't seem to quite know what she was looking for.
Daeron leaned forward, and said, "Charlotte and Daisy told us they wanted to help you get well, so they are both having good baths. They promise to come right back, as soon as they are nice and clean."
Before she got agitated, Hilda soothed her, "But you have something better to hold, while you wait for them, don't you love? You're Da came all the way here so you can hug him, as much as you want. Can you be a big girl for me?"
Tilda looked up at Bard, but didn't say anything.
"Do you need to use the necessary, darling?"
"Uh huh."
Hilda told Bard and Daeron. "We've scrubbed down Thranduil's, so it will be all right; and I'll make sure to do it again, as soon as we're done here. See if you can get someone to change her bedding, if you would."
"Of course, My Lady."
Daeron nodded his approval, so Bard picked her up, and with Hilda's help, got things done. Then Auntie Hil gave her a sponge bath and changed her nightie, and Bard held her in his lap, so they could change her sheets. After she was settled back in bed, she leaned her head against his chest, as they spooned some broth into her, and gave her the medicinal tea.
"You must drink everything you can, Lady Tilda, so we can get you better." Daeron gave her an encouraging smile. Pointing to the pitcher of fresh water. "Every time you wake, we need you to drink water, too, as much as you can."
She nodded, her eyes getting heavy again.
"Go back to sleep, Little Bean," Bard said, kissing her hair. "Da's here, and I'll look after you."
Soon, father and daughter were both napping, under the watchful eye of her Guard/Healer and her beloved Auntie.
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As Bard and Tilda slept on the bed, and Hilda left to take care of some things, Daeron looked through his medical book. Tilda's color was better, and he knew she'd be weak for a long time. With every passing hour, the chances of her recovery increased, much to his relief.
He'd been desperate to save her; he was as frightened as everyone else was. When she was convulsing, it was especially frightening, because his King became frozen with hysteria. He'd seen the reaction years ago, in Dale, and was stunned when he saw another Healer slap the man, to snap him back to awareness. It was an effective tactic, but it was still shocking to watch.
When he applied to same treatment to Thranduil, Daeron knew he could face serious consequences for raising a hand to his King, but in that instance, it was either that, or Tilda was dead. He needed Thranduil's immense power as a Sindar to save the child's life. Thranduil in addition to his other gifts from the Valar, had healing powers, as a King.
There is an ancient saying, which many now think of as myth, but Elves know it to be truth: "The hands of the king are the hands of a healer, and so shall the rightful king be known." It was very likely that the King of Dale didn't know this, and when he and Thranduil worked together to heal Rhian's ribs the day after Darryn was born, he thought it was entirely due to his bond with Thranduil.
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There was a stirring on the bed, and Daeron quickly looked up. Tilda was just shifting a little, then she smacked her lips a couple of times, before settling down, again. Bard's mouth hung slightly open, in his half-sitting position, and when his little girl moved, he instinctively adjusted to keep her comfortable, and stroked her hair a few times to soothe her, before he went back to sleep, too.
He was so much like Girion! Bard was taller, and had broader shoulders, but he had the same mannerisms, nearly the same speaking voice, and definitely the same laugh. Girion had been a stern, but fair King, but was tender and loving with his family. Bard's nature was more light-hearted, despite all his earlier hardships, but he possessed that same steely determination and courage needed to rule a country.
Years ago, when Daeron was sent to serve in Dale's Healing House, it quickly felt like home. The work was varied, rewarding, and he had grown to admire and care about the people he met. He found a true calling in Dale that centered him, and gave him a sense of purpose like never before.
Then a young, pregnant woman had become his patient. Daeron didn't have feelings for the mother besides compassion, but, for some reason, he'd become very attached to the child inside of her. The spirit of the tiny little girl touched him deeply, and when she and her mother were killed by the abusive husband, Daeron was heartbroken, and took it very badly. Girion was sent for, to try to help his friend, but the incident shook Daeron to his core.
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Daeron had no contact from anyone from the race of Men, until after Smaug was killed, and he went with the Army to the ruins of Dale. He balked at the idea of treating the humans, again, but Thranduil wisely gave him no choice, and sent him to the Healing Tents. As soon as he saw all those who suffered, his trepidation left him, and he dove into the work. With each success, his confidence grew, and he found he had lost none of his knowledge or ability.
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On the third day after the Elves came to Dale, Daeron was walking from the camp to the Healing Tents and saw a young, pregnant girl struggling to carry water. She'd been hurt, and badly; he'd assumed it was due to the destruction from the Dragon, but when he reached out to take the buckets from her, she shrank from him, and he saw the bruises. When he took her forearm to get a closer look, she jumped and gasped, as if he had stabbed her, and he knew what had happened to her.
Perhaps it was the fëa of the child that told him, or perhaps it was her own. Or it could have been memories from the time that woman and the girl-child were murdered. He didn't know, and there was little time to contemplate much of anything.
All Daeron knew, was when he touched her arm, he was startled, and his own fëa reacted to her in a way he still didn't entirely understand. Regardless, he was determined that history wouldn't repeat itself.
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Now, as Daeron sat at Tilda's bedside, his thoughts turned to another matter.
Rhian had become more than a professional concern; she and her child were more than a chance to make up for a previous mistake. The Guard had begun to genuinely care about Rhian, and found himself thinking of her frequently, and in ways he never expected.
The last time he visited their apartment, he picked up little Darryn, and the baby smiled up at him. He was thrilled, and his heart burst with pride and happiness. Then, he looked over at Rhian, who was sitting on the couch, with her head lowered over some sewing. She looked up at him, and when she met his eyes and smiled, his heart flipped over.
He was confused, and a little frightened. He didn't know what to do about it, because the last thing in the world he wanted, was to cause her harm. Daeron knew the time was coming soon, for him to talk to his King.
But all that would have to wait. He was a soldier, and a Healer, and his focus needed remain with the Royal Family, especially the youngest Princess.
Daeron shook his head slightly, and wrestled the image of Rhian's face into the back of his mind, and concentrated on his present duty, for now.
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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
Losta-luith – Sleeping spell
Arin Mára, Esta – Good morning, Esta. (Quenya)
Gwennig nestad; de vilui, O Elbereth - My little maid is healing; thank you, O Queen of Stars
Aur vaer, Thranduil – Good morning, Thranduil.
Adar-nauth – Father of the heart
Rista-Goeol - (lit. "The Terrible Severing") the pain an Elf bond-mate is killed when a bond-mate is killed. If the couple were married, it is agony as part of their shared fëa, as the spouse heeds the Call of Mandos. That is an agonizing process that only the strongest Elves can survive.
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NOTES:
"The hands of the king are the hands of a healer, and so shall the rightful king be known." – Return of the King: /wiki/The_Houses_of_Healing
Catarrh – older term for upper respiratory infection.
Lung Fever – older term for pneumonia
Brain Fever – older term for meningitis
All the terms for ancient medicine was taken off of this site:
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I am by no means any kind of medical expert on this, but I should tell you that Tilda became sick with Middle Earth's version of Brain Fever; something resembling what we call H. Influenzae Meningitis. Fortunately, Middle Earth has Elves to help with such things. I only wish the residents of our world could be so lucky…