Chapter Seventeen
SUMMARY: After they send the kids off to school, Tilda begins her rehabilitation, but not without some heartbreaking moments. Don't worry, though, Esta's on the job, always, and she wants to help.
The next day, Bard meets with Ina and Iola's guards, and their report is not what he expected...
.
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The Woodland Realm, 15th of February; 2942, T.A.
Thranduil and Bard woke up early, and spent some leisure time looking up at the stars, and indulging in some kisses, caresses, and whispers. He delighted in the completeness they both felt when Bard was near, and to just hold him, and feel the warmth of his skin, was truly a joy.
Finally, Thranduil stroked Bard's cheek with the back of his fingers, kissed him, and got up. "Come, Meleth nîn. I want to be ready when our Tithen Pen wakes, and it is almost time to get the others ready for school."
Bard propped up on his elbows and smiled. "I love hearing you talk like that."
Thranduil turned and smiled at him. "Like what?"
"Like a Da. Fatherhood looks good on you."
Thranduil strode back to the bed and sat down. "When Legolas and Tauriel were children, Mírelen or Galion did most of what you might call the 'grunt work' of parenting. Now, I find pleasure in all the little things it takes to care for them: sending them to school in the morning, helping them with homework, and tucking them in at night. My favorite part of the day is the evenings, when we sit together as a family and talk, or play games, or read. I have never had that."
"Really? Not even with Legolas?"
He laughed. "Especially not with Legolas. He did two things only: run, or sleep. There was no leisure time when he was awake. Once he was asleep in the nursery, though, Mírelen and I would enjoy sitting in front of the fire, and that was wonderful. Now we our family gathers at the end of the day, and I enjoy just... being with them."
"Big families are great, aren't they? Noisy, too."
"They certainly are that." Thranduil grabbed Bard's hand ripped the covers back and yanked him out of bed. "Now, get up."
The Elvenking checked on Tilda, who was still fast asleep, then took care of his morning ablutions. Bard was right behind him, and soon they were both dressed.
Thranduil went back into the nursery, and signaled to Esta, then took her in to the children's apartment. Bain was just waking up, but Rhys was dressed, so he and a guard took the dog outside. Sigrid was washing up, and almost ready for breakfast, so after urging Bain to hurry up, the two Kings made their way back to their chambers, where Galion was coming in.
"Good morning, Galion!" Bard said. "What's for breakfast?"
"Eggs, and sweet bread with butter, apple juice and tea. It will be here in a few minutes. Daeron is on his way with Tilda's medicine, and to examine her, before he takes the children to school."
There was a knock, then the door was opened for Daeron. "Good morning, My Lords. Is Lady Tilda up yet?"
"She sleeps still, but probably not for long." Thranduil said, as Sigrid came into the room.
"Hello everybody," she gave her fathers and Uncle Galion a kiss on the cheek. "I'm starved."
"So am I!" Bain said, coming in behind her.
"What unexpected news." His Da said, dryly.
"When is he not hungry?" Sigrid quipped. "Come on, Daeron, let's go look at Tilda."
So, the day began for the Royal Family.
Bard was brushing Tilda's hair, when Thranduil entered the nursery again, followed by Galion.
"Good morning, Tithen Pen! Some things arrived for you, from Erebor."
Tilda looked at the crate full of bundles. "What is it?"
"Well, they are addressed to you, from the Dwarves." He set the crate on the floor, and carried the bundles over to her. "Let us see what they are, shall we?"
Bofur had sent a special slate in a wooden frame, a pouch of thick sticks of chalk, Balin sent some coloring sticks and paper for drawing, Bifur sent a pretty mechanical bird, and Bombur sent a cake for the whole family to enjoy.
Thranduil held up the colored wax sticks. "This is a fascinating idea, Bard. I wonder if all the schoolchildren would enjoy these."
"Do you think you could make them? Or just buy them from Dáin."
"I shall write and ask. The Dwarves might not have time, as they are busy restoring Erebor and helping Dale with supplies. They appear to be wax mixed with the powder base of the paints I use."
Bard took the cake and sniffed. "That smells good, doesn't it, Beanie? Let's hope it tastes better than his Ham and Bean soup. Remind me to tell you that story." Bard said, before he passed it over to Galion to put in the Dining Room. "Oh, look, King Dáin sent you something too! There's a note…"
They unfolded the note attached to the box, and Bard read aloud.
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To the wee Princess –
Sorry to hear you were ailing, Lady Tilda. Saw this falling from the sky and thought I'd catch it for you. Hope it helps you get better soon, little lassie.
Your friend,
King Dáin
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"What?" Tilda asked.
"There's only one way to find out, love. Come on, then, open it."
Bard helped her lift the lid of the small box and they all looked inside. On a bed of dark velvet lay small diamond pendant, on a silver chain.
"Look at how it sparkles! Looks like he did catch a star for you, didn't he?"
Tilda's eyes grew wide she pointed up.
"Could be, Little Bean. It sure shines like one, doesn't it?"
Thranduil took the box, and removed the necklace. "Let us see if this can outshine our own little star, shall we? Lean your head forward." He fastened it around her neck and stepped back to see. "You look lovely, Tithen Pen."
Tilda looked down, but could not quite see it.
"Wait just a moment." Soon Thranduil returned with his silver hand mirror, so Tilda could admire it.
"Pretty." she touched it.
"But not as pretty as you are, Beanie." Bard kissed her hair. "I'll help you write a Thank You note; would you like that?"
She nodded.
Soon, Galion appeared in the doorway with her breakfast on a tray.
He sat down beside her, as Galion set the tray in her lap, and Bard put his hand over hers to help her with her spoon.
"Come on, Beanie. Eat some of this egg for me, okay?" He helped her spoon it into her mouth. "We need to get you strong, so you can go running around with Esta, right?"
The dog whined and wagged her tail. "See, love? She wants to run and play with you!"
She chewed her egg, and reached for some more. Bard managed to get her to eat most of her breakfast, and drink all her juice. She also managed to eat the bread by herself, if he broke it up into small bits.
After the tray was taken away, Daeron came back in. "My Lord, before I take the children to school, I have something for Lady Tilda, if I may."
"Of course."
Daeron sat down on her bed, and handed her a medium sized stuffed ball. "Do you see how soft it is? Now get your fingers around it… that is it. I need you to squeeze this ball as hard as you can ten times. Your Da or your Ada can help you count. Do it with ten time with both hands, three times a day. Could you do this for me?"
"All right." She took it, and tried to squeeze it.
"Very good, love." Bard said. "So… let's figure out the color. Is it green?"
She squeezed it, again. "Blue."
"Yes!" Bard put his arm around her and kissed her hair. "But it's a good blue, isn't it?"
"Uh huh."
"That's my girl."
Daeron stood up and saluted. "I will see you later today, Lady Tilda, you did very well. I must prepare for afternoon lessons with the boys, so please excuse me, Lord Bard."
Galion came into the nursery a few minutes later. "The children are on their way to school, My Lords." He smiled
Tilda reached her arms up to him. "I ate."
"You sure did. Got your appetite back, have you?" Bard said proudly, as Galion gave her a hug.
"What is this, Tilda?" the Aide asked, when he saw the ball. "A new toy?"
She blinked a few times and looked at her father.
"She squeezes it to help her hands get strong," Bard told him.
"That is a good idea, Tithen Pen."
"She even told us what color it was, didn't you? Can you tell us what color this is?" Bard smiled at her.
They could tell it was on the tip of her tongue, and she knew she had just said it.
Tilda suddenly burst into angry tears, and she threw the ball across the room, with a shriek. Tilda sobbed so hard she winded herself, and Bard had to blow in her face to get her to breathe. She inhaled, finally, but screamed louder, and began to pound her fists against her head.
Thranduil took her wrists to still them. "No, little one. Do not do that. It is all right." He gathered her to him, and rubbed her back. "Come now... shh… It will be all right. You have been very sick, and your body needs time to recover. Your head became sick, too, so it also needs time to get better."
"I… want… remember," she gasped between sobs. "Am I s-stupid?"
It was like an arrow struck Thranduil's heart. Oh, Valar… His eyes met Bard's, as the Bowman's eyes filled with tears. He looked away and rubbed his hands over his eyes.
"Oh, no, no, no, Tithen Pen." As his husband tried to compose himself, Thranduil continued to soothe their little girl, until she had calmed down. "You will never be stupid. I promise. Like I said, hênig, you must be patient, and very brave, until your body gets stronger."
"Don't like it, Ada." she sobbed. "D-don't like it!"
Bard, who finally collected himself, rubbed her arm. "We know that, love. You just need time to heal, and we'll all help you."
"Don't like it."
She was still hiccuping, so Thranduil handed her Charlotte, to help calm her down.
"Of course, you get mad, Beanie." Bard told her. "Daeron said you'll just cry sometimes. It's just part of your head getting better."
Thranduil smiled down at her. "We are all going to make sure you get well. Uncle Percy always says, "One foot in front of the other," does he not? That means to only worry about little bits of a problem at a time. That is good advice, do you not think? So, let us do what Uncle Percy says, and only think about today, all right?"
Tilda looked at him, still sniffling. "Little bits."
"That is right, so, we are only going to think about squeezing the ball, now. Does that make sense?" Thranduil reached for his handkerchief, and wiped her face.
Tilda nodded, and calmed down.
Bard got up and retrieved the ball. "Here. Show Ada how you can squeeze it."
She took the ball from her Da, and squeezed it, while Bard counted out loud. Then she switched to the other hand, as Esta wormed her head under Tilda's hand. As she pet the dog absently, she repeated the exercise, but asked Ada to count. Just as she reached number eight, her eyes lit up.
"Blue!"
Bard and Thranduil grinned at each other. "That is correct. It is blue. Can you say that again?"
"Blue. Blue, blue blue blue!" She grinned. Her nose was still red from crying, but now she was laughing. "Blueblueblueblueblue!"
As a reward, her fathers reached down smothered each cheek with kisses, to make her giggle some more.
Thranduil reluctantly got up. "I am sorry, Tithen Pen, but I must go."
"To…"
"My study?"
She nodded her head.
"Not yet. Today, I must go to the barracks where some of the soldiers live, and where we keep our hunting dogs. Daeron took you there, once, so you could see a dog like your father's."
Tilda blinked, as the wheels turned. "Big?"
"Yes, she is big. And we have many like them. When you are better, I will take you out there. You will remember, when you see them."
Bard laughed. "Want to know a secret about my dog?" He leaned in and whispered in her ear. "He snores."
"S-snores?"
"Aye. Wanna know what it sounds like?"
So Thranduil left his husband and their daughter, and he heard the delightful sound of Tilda's laughter, as Bard showed her how loud Thangon really snored.
If Bard was going to tell her what happens when Thangon eats Lembas, he was thankful to be out of the room.
As he walked outside toward the Army barracks, his heart was still hurting from Tilda's outburst. It was frightening. She was happy, then she was sobbing and screaming… Thank the Valar Daeron warned everyone, but still, it ripped his guts out to see her struggle so, and be so…frightened of herself! Thranduil tried to convince himself that that was a good thing. If she was aware enough to know that this wasn't normal for her; if she knows that it wasn't like this before, then maybe she has the potential and the determination to get back to where she wanted to be.
All they could do was comfort her. And wait.
It was wonderful how Tilda's face lit up when she remembered the color of her ball; something so simple, but this morning it was a wonderful accomplishment.
Then a thought struck him, and he made mental note to speak with Daeron and Bard about it. If they could shape her rehabilitation around this, it could help their daughter immensely
It might work, and it might not, but it was worth a try.
.
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Bard cuddled with Tilda on her bed, and began to read to her. It was a picture book from Thranduil's library, with a wonderful story about a fiddle-playing cat and the man in the moon:
There is an inn, a merry old inn
beneath an old grey hill,
And there they brew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
one night to drink his fill.
.
The ostler has a tipsy cat
that plays a five-stringed fiddle;
And up and down he runs his bow,
Now squeaking high, now purring low,
now sawing in the middle.
.
The landlord keeps a little dog
that is mighty fond of jokes;
When there's good cheer among the guests,
He cocks an ear at all the jests
and laughs until he chokes.
.
They also keep a horned cow
as proud as any queen;
But music turns her head like ale,
And makes her wave her tufted tail
and dance upon the green.
.
And O! the rows of silver dishes
and the store of silver spoons!
For Sunday there's a special pair,
And these they polish up with care
on Saturday afternoons.
.
The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,
and the cat began to wail…
About halfway through reading the book, Tilda took her finger and traced the words on the page. Bard smiled, kissed her head, and read a little bit slower, in case she could pick up some of the words.
There was a stirring near the bottom of the bed. Esta had her head raised, and was wagging her tail at them. Tilda smiled and patted the bed beside her. "Here." Soon, Esta was snuggled under Tilda's arm as they all looked at the pages together, and she pointed out the pictures to the dog.
A dish and a spoon on the table danced,
The cow in the garden madly pranced,
and the little dog chased his tail.
.
The Man in the Moon took another mug,
and rolled beneath his chair;
And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,
Till in the sky the stars were pale,
and dawn was in the air.
.
Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat:
"The white horses of the Moon,
They neigh and champ their silver bits;
But their master's been and drowned his wits,
and the Sun'll be rising soon!"
.
So, the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,
a jig that would wake the dead:
He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,
While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:
"It's after three!" he said.
.
They rolled the Man slowly up the hill
and bundled him into the Moon,
While his horses galloped up in rear,
And the cow came capering like a deer,
and a dish ran up with the spoon.
.
Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;
Cthe dog began to roar,
The cow and the horses stood on their heads;
The guests all bounded from their beds
and danced upon the floor.
.
With a ping and a pang the fiddle-strings broke!
the cow jumped over the Moon,
And the little dog laughed to see such fun,
And the Saturday dish went off at a run
with the silver Sunday spoon.
.
The round Moon rolled behind the hill,
as the Sun raised up her head.
She hardly believed her fiery eyes;
For though it was day, to her surprise
they all went back to bed!
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"The End." He said, and closed the book. "Did you like that?"
"Mmm Hmm." Tilda yawned. "Like a song."
Bard smiled. "It sounds like a something Bofur would sing, doesn't it?"
"Uh huh. Need to pee."
"No problem, love." He picked her up. "Come on, then. Do you feel strong enough to do it by yourself?"
"I think so."
All was taken care of, and soon Bard was tucking her in. "You settle down, and take a nap. I'll be at the desk in our bedroom, working, so if you need anything, just let me know. After lunch, Sigrid and Hilda will give you your bath and change your bedding."
She held her arms up and he hugged her. "Love you."
"I love you so much, Tilda." He kissed her hair several times, then helped her settle in.
.
In the living room, Daeron met with Kings, Hilda and Galion, to discuss her progress and outline another part of his treatment plan.
First, Daeron outlined his program to help her physical recovery. He presented them with a chart, listing the exercises he wanted her to do, and asked them to record her repetitions and note any problems she might have.
"This can help us discover where she might need additional help, and this will encourage Tilda, as well, if she sees evidence of her progress." He handed it to Thranduil. "Every couple of days, show this to her, and point out places where she shows improvement."
"This is good." The Elvenking looked it over, and handed it to Bard, so he could see, then told everyone what he had observed that morning. "I saw Esta do something this morning, and I want to ask you about it. Tilda was getting frustrated and upset because she could not remember something, but the dog wanted the child to pet her, and when she did, her memory came back. Do you think a mindless activity like that could stimulate her thinking?"
Daeron thought about this. "Perhaps, if one part of her brain is busy, it may help her learn different ways to process what she needs to remember. Esta, senses this, apparently. I have been reading as much as I can about things like this, and the books say to expect setbacks; especially when she is stressed and tired. There is no set schedule for a recovery such as this; it is a matter of taking each thing as it comes."
"So... at this point, everything is normal."
"Exactly. Each person is unique, and we must remember that, My Lord."
Then the Guard went on to another subject. "I see that her classmates have made drawings for her, and Tilda would like to hang them up around her room. This would be a good idea."
"Oh, we're on that," Hilda said. "Galion and I plan to hang a sheet on the wall, and pin them to it. We'll switch them around and hang up new things, too, so she'll have different things to look at."
"Another excellent idea. I plan to meet with Mistress Bronwyn soon, so we can organize a specialized curriculum for Lady Tilda, in the weeks ahead. She's not ready for such things, yet."
"This all sounds great, Daeron," Bard said. "Folks, do we have any other questions or problems?"
No one did, so Daeron left and everyone else went back to their duties for the day.
After dinner, Hilda went in to read to Tilda, and the rest of the family relaxed in front of the fireplace.
"By the way; I saw the new pictures up there," Bard said, pointing to the mantel. "Nice."
Thranduil smiled. "The only one missing is you."
"But you did draw me, remember?" Bard smirked at him. "You were in the picture, too, as I recall."
"Where is that one, Da? In Dale?" Bain perked up.
"Yep." Bard said, hiding his smile. "I like it, a lot."
"Where'd you put it? In your room?"
Thranduil grinned, and reached his hand between them, and pinched Bard's thigh. Bard did his best to keep a straight face, and change the subject. "How about we get out the Stratagem board? I've been practicing with Feren, so let's see if your Ada can still beat me."
Thranduil did win, of course, but noted Bard's improvement. Then Bain and Rhys settled in for their game, just as Sigrid came in.
"Hey Sig. How's Rhian and the baby?" Bain asked.
"She's good, and he's growing like a weed! I think we've got most of Old Ben's things done, so they'll be ready when he comes to visit next week."
"I didn't know Ben sent his things." Bard said.
"He didn't!" Sigrid laughed. "Tauriel got sick of looking at him with holes in his shirts and socks, so she marched into his room and grabbed everything that was looking ragged, and sent it. He put up a fuss and tried to stop her, but Tauriel got her way, in the end. What we couldn't mend, we've gotten replacements for."
"That is kind of you, to help Rhian, Iellig." Thranduil put his arm around Sigrid, as she sat down.
"I like that Rhian's putting herself in charge of looking after Ben; it's a good sign, I think."
"He's a good man, and needs somebody like that, especially since his wife died, and Ulmo knows, that girl could always use more friends." Bard answered her. "He told me they'd been worried about her for years."
Sigrid smiled. "Rhian seems excited about his visit, and can't wait to show him the baby. You should go visit her, Da."
"Ada and I talked about that earlier, my girl. Would it make her nervous?"
"It would help if Hannah were there. She's doing better; she's out of the apartment more, and yesterday, Daeron and Indis took her to the barns, to see the horses."
"Really? How was she with it?"
"Rhian said she was nervous at first. They showed her a really gentle dark mare, and the horse just kept very still, and soon, she was petting her nose." Sigrid smiled. "She likes the same thing I do; their noses are soft, like velvet."
Rhys looked up from his game at Thranduil. "I'm reading the history book about Dale, My Lord. I didn't know it was you who wrote it! Is it true you knew all the Kings?"
"Yes, it is true."
"What were they like?" Bain perked up at Rhys's question.
"Some Kings were better than others, as is always the way of things, but all were exemplary in their own way."
"What about Da?" Bain asked.
"Well, I must confess a personal bias on that account, Ionneg." Thranduil smirked.
Bard snorted. "I've hardly had a chance to see what kind of King I'll be!"
Sigrid said, "You've been wonderful, Da! Don't sell yourself short!"
"You never know, though. I could end up a drunken sot who winds through the streets singing lewd pub songs." Bard chuckled. "Your poor Ada would have to try and keep me sober, or hide me in the cellar, until you can take over as King."
"What lewd pub songs?" asked Bain, with a mischievous glint in his eye.
"Never mind." Thranduil said. "Pay attention to your game. Rhys is about to beat you in three moves."
.
.
Once all the children were bedded down for the night, Bard laid his head on Thranduil's shoulder, and sighed.
"I'll need to meet with Ina and Iola's guards, tomorrow, whether or not I meet with the ladies." Bard gave his husband a wry grin. "I need to apologize to them."
Thranduil laughed. "I am sure they would appreciate it, but the unit charged with guarding them, are also in charge of my dungeons. This is not that much of a challenge to them. They know how to handle prisoners and it takes a great deal to rattle them."
"Really?"
Thranduil smiled. "I think you will enjoy meeting them. Dior, the Captain, is a good Elf, and friend mine and Feren's and he has excellent insights into someone's character. He does not just keep prisoners, but he observes and lets me know who might be rehabilitated, or who cannot be. Often, I will wait to pass down a sentence until after Dior has observed them for a time. He has never been wrong. He also has a wonderful sense of humor."
"You'd have to, in that line of work."
They sat in silence for a while, and watched the fire.
"Oh, Bard…" He kissed his Bowman's hair. "Sometimes, I wish you had never become King; then you and the children could stay here with me, always."
Bard chucked. "Making me King was your idea, love. Anyway, I wouldn't be happy with no real purpose to my life; I'd feel like your concubine, and I'd hate it."
"Will you hate it coming here after Bain becomes King?"
"I'd want a real job; something that would work to the good of our people. But we've got years to figure that out. I've got enough to worry about at the moment."
Thranduil got up and held his hand out. "Come, Meleth nîn."
They both went into the bathing room, and undressed each other. Bard looked over and saw the chaise lounge. "Is that where you worked on Tilda?"
"Yes." Thranduil sighed, as the memories of that terrifying night rushed back to him. "That was –"
"…over. It's over." Bard took Thranduil's face in his hands and said, "That night you saved our baby; that's all you need to remember."
The Elvenking swallowed hard and his voice was shaky. "I love you, Bard."
"I love you, too." The Bowman took his hand, then led him down into the bath, where they relaxed against each other for a long while and let the heat work out the tension in their muscles. Then he and Thranduil took their time washing and drying each other off, before they got into their sleeping clothes and robes.
Bard took their dirty clothes and put them in the basket of their dressing room, when heard his husband call to him.
"Bard! Come quickly; you must see this!" Thranduil whispered softly, so as not to wake Tilda.
"What is it? Is something wrong?" He came out of the walk-in closet and noticed the lamplight from the nursery. He went into the room, curious to see what the fuss was about…
There was his husband, looking down at their little girl, grinning.
"What is it?" he asked his Elf.
Thranduil huffed out a little laugh. "You might think it silly."
"Is it silly?"
"Perhaps, but it means a great deal to me. Look." He pointed to the bedcovers. "Do you see?"
Bard looked, but didn't know what he was looking for. "I don't understand."
"You mean, you do not notice?"
Bard shook his head.
"Look at her blankets, Bard!" Thranduil pointed with glee. "She kicked her covers off!"
Bard blinked, and finally noticed. Tilda was now lying on her stomach, with one leg drawn up, and the other straight down, and indeed, she had thrown her blankets off. She had rolled over by herself, and was no longer on her back, sleeping like the sick do.
"You're right, love; I'm so used to seeing it, I didn't 'see' it. I never thought I'd be happy to see her back to her old tricks." Bard reached over and gently tucked her leg in, and pulled her covers up. "She's normally a misery to sleep with."
After kissing her cheek gently, Bard scratched Esta's ears, "Keep an eye out for our Beanie, yeah?" The black-and-white sheepdog thumped her tail on the bed, before settling in.
Thranduil kissed Tilda's hair as Bard dimmed her lamp, then they crawled into bed. "I hated to see her lie so still and on her back; like a corpse. I begged the Valar to heal her, so she could go back to tossing and turning." He smiled ruefully. "I even prayed that she could kick me again, at night." He sighed. "I think I would miss that the most, if she had been taken from us."
"How often did she come in here?"
"A couple of nights a week - more in the beginning. Hilda warned me to expect it, so I was not surprised, really. Legolas would often become insecure, and sleep with us." Thranduil laughed. "Either she'd come here, or Esta would wake me to go get her. When she fell back asleep, she nearly drove me mad. She would walk up and down my back, or kick at my side. One night I made the mistake of facing her and..." He shuddered.
"Uh oh...". Bard put his hand over his mouth and snickered. "Got you good, did she?"
"I pester you about your foul mouth, but that night, I recited a litany of all your favorites several times, before I could breathe normally."
"Helps, doesn't it?" Bard smirked, and jabbed him with his elbow.
"Do you make fun of me, Bowman?" Thranduil pounced on him, and straddling. "I am glad my suffering amuses you so. What if I were damaged, and could no longer 'serve' my husband?"
Bard laughed up at him. "You'd have my sympathies. I nearly broke my 'Little Bowman,' thanks to that monster you call a dog."
Thranduil made a face, and grabbed his pillow to smack him with. "Did I hear you correctly? Did you just say, 'Little Bowman?'"
"Don't you call your Elf Thing the 'Elf Thing?'" Bard laughed, holding his forearms up to defend himself.
"That is entirely different." The Elvenking said, and hit him with the pillow, again. "And what does Thangon have to do it?"
"Get off me, and I'll tell you."
So, Bard told him about the night he had a hot dream, woke up painfully hard. Thranduil sat up, fascinated, with a grin on his face.
"Ooh; did you dream about me?" the Elf asked coyly, as he traced his finger over Bard's chest.
"No; I dreamed about Old Ben." He said, sarcastically and slapped his hand away. "Stop fishing for compliments, you snooty-faced Elf, and let me finish…"
Bard recounted the events of that night, as Thranduil began to laugh. "…and then, just as I was about to come, there was this giant, sloppy tongue all over my face! Scared the shit out of me! I screamed bloody murder and fell out of bed, still hard as nails..."
Thranduil had to grab the pillow and doubled over to bury his face in it. Once he could catch his breath again, he asked, "Your 'Little Bowman' did not break your fall?"
"Hey! Show me some compassion, will you? I could've really gotten hurt, and where would you be, if I'd broken it, or something?"
"Alas; that would be a tragedy. I do not want to contemplate how much that would hurt, but…" Thranduil doubled over in to giggles again, "I would pay to see you try to explain that to the Chief Healer…" And he was off again.
Bard just crossed his arms and looked at Thranduil sardonically. "Go ahead, you bastard; enjoy my pain. That wasn't the worst of it, you know."
The Elf finally recovered, and wiped his eyes. "How could it become worse?"
"There I was, on the cold, hard floor, with that damned dog smiling over me – so help me, that bloody dog was smiling! Then I heard footsteps, and I barely got my cock back in my drawers before Tauriel and two Guards burst into the room…"
Thranduil, again, buried his screams of laughter into his pillow, and rolled on his side as his body shook. "Stop!" he cried, as he grabbed his stomach. "I cannot breathe!"
Bard shook his head. "I was hoping for a little sympathy, you know."
"I am sorry… I… but…" And Thranduil was off again, but this time, Bard was joining him. "I knew Thangon would protect you, but…" When he fell into another giggle fit, Bard smacked him on his rear end.
"I can't believe I like that dog as much as I do." Bard said, as they finally began to settle down.
Thranduil laid his head on Bard's shoulder. "So, you are glad I sent him to you?"
Bard heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Aye. He's a good dog. All the men like him, and he loves to go hunting with the Elves. He keeps the bed warm, too, and really likes the feather pillows you sent. I don't know where you're going to sleep when you're in Dale, though; you two will have to sort that out yourselves."
Even after they settled down for the night, Bard heard occasional snickers from his husband.
"Bard?" Thranduil was snuggled against his chest, and he pulled his arm closer around him.
"Want to laugh at my misery some more?" Bard kissed the back of his neck.
"No. Well, yes, but…"
He smiled into the darkness. "What is it, love?"
"I know we'll face hardship, as well as heartache, but it is all worth it. Thank you for bringing joy to my life, again."
Bard tightened his arms around his Elf, and threw his leg over him, protectively. "You've brought just as much joy to me, love."
They sighed, relaxed for several moments.
"Bard?"
"Mmmm. What?"
"There is nothing 'little' about your 'Little Bowman.'"
"Thank you," Bard snuggled in. "Now, shut up and go to sleep."
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Once the children were off to school the next morning, and after they helped Tilda eat her breakfast, Bard and Thranduil were ready for the first meeting of the day.
"Are you ready?" He asked his husband.
"Yes; I am interested to see how this turns out."
Bard and Thranduil walked across the Hall for their planned meeting with Ina and Iola's guards.
A knock was heard on the study door after about ten minutes.
"Come in," Bard called.
Two Elven guards, entered, and saluted. "Suilon, Aran nîn, Brannon nîn Bard."
"Have a seat, please." Bard indicated to the chairs in front of the desk. Thranduil sat to the side of Bard; the King of Dale was running this meeting.
"Lord Bard, this is Captain Dior, and his Lieutenant, Elion."
Bard nodded to them, then began: "First of all, I want to extend my sincere appreciation to you and your unit for looking after these two. I didn't relish inflicting anyone on your people like this, but I have seen reports from your King that you all have been conscientious in your duties, and have made sure they have come to no harm, despite their… difficulty."
"Thank you, My Lord," Dior the brown-haired Elf on the right said.
"So, tell me. What has it been like? What have these two ladies been up to? I'd like you to tell me everything, and please don't feel like you have to be polite. I haven't completely decided what to do with them, and your words here will have a great deal to do with my decision."
The Captain began. "My Lord, these ladies have not been anything we could not handle easily, though I will tell you, we have had easier assignments." The Captain smiled. "Your suggestion that we show them kindness is something we do as much as we can anyway. If a prisoner can be kept calm, and feels like we have earned their trust, they are more apt to confess, or at least, give details. We only use brute force when we must."
"Are they still hateful and violent toward you?"
"It only happened once, at the beginning, but they are…quite verbal, My Lord. I am grateful King Thranduil granted our request for a silencing spell," he grinned. "The one called Iola walked up to one of my men, and raised her hand as if to slap him, but he towered over her, grabbed her wrist, and keep eye contact, until she slowly backed down."
"I did read one report that said Iola has to be physically restrained from hitting her sister."
"She does. It happened more often, at the beginning. As before, we grabbed her wrist and did not release her, until she became calmer. In our line of work, My Lord, we find this an effective approach. I think they have learned to respect us, to some extent."
"Have they guessed that you understand them?"
Dior shook his head. "No. It is no difficulty. We are Elves, of the Army of the Woodland Realm. My unit is trained to only act; never react."
Thranduil smiled nodded in proud agreement.
"My Lord, it has been to our benefit that they feel they can speak freely in front of us." Dior told them. "We have ascertained much, with regards to the reasons for their behavior."
Bard looked at Thranduil. "Do I want to know what they were saying?"
The Captain laughed outright, and the Lieutenant smiled. "Not all of it, I am sure, Lord Bard. But you will be interested to know that the grandmother is has reconsidered their treatment of Master Rhys."
"She has?" This was interesting. "What do they say?"
"Mostly that they were simply doing things the way their own father taught them. This father has often been a topic between them, and it is increasingly clear that Ina no longer sees him the same. Iola becomes very angry at this, and they argue."
The King of Dale sighed. "I've been made aware of some unpleasant things about him from Alun, Rhys's father. He was a real monster. I'm pleased at least one of them is questioning that man's practices for their own sake, but it doesn't give excuse for causing those marks on the boy, or on their servants."
The guards looked at each other and said, "We are in complete agreement, My Lord. There have been terrible arguments between the sisters."
"Tell me."
"It seems that Iola was the one who inflicted most of the harm on the child, as if it were her duty. Ina only did this when she was forced to, and questioning her own actions and their father's influence. Iola will not tolerate such things, and screams at her."
"Interesting…" Bard sat back on his chair, and thought about this, for a moment. "From what you've observed, do you think they're capable of changing?"
"Of the two of them, I would say Ina might be, but it would take a long time. Even then, I do not know to what extent. Iola is much worse, and is given to unpredictable fits of anger, and, as we said, violence. She is determined to idolize their father, and is incapable of considering anything less."
"Those women have been traumatized throughout their childhood, with much worse than physical abuse. Alun thinks they hang on to their denial, to avoid facing up to it."
"That would explain much," the Captain said. "In my opinion, those women are damaged; particularly the oldest one, Iola. They need to remain isolated, although I request that you consider separating them."
"You think so?
"I do, My Lord. I respectfully suggest you meet with them, and let us know how you wish to proceed from there."
Bard got up and they all rose. "Thank you. You're doing a fine job, and I would ask that you continue to pretend you don't understand them, until I say so."
After the jailors saluted and left, the two Kings talked about it.
"I will see them, Thranduil. In light of what Dior said, I think I have to, I'd like you to be there."
"Of course, Meleth nîn, you do not need to ask. I will support you in whatever you decide."
"Make it the day after tomorrow. I need time to think over exactly how to approach this; we need to be very careful. When we do see them, I'd like them brought here by an intimidating escort of Guards, and I want them walked through the Palace with their hands bound, so they can see all the activity they've missed. Do not permit anyone to approach them. We'll see them while Rhys is in his afternoon classes. Under no circumstance do I want that boy to lay eyes on them. Oh, and I'll need a copy of Elénaril's report, if you have one in Westron."
"I do, of course, but why do you wish it, if I may ask?"
"I think they should hear every single detail of what she found."
The Elvenking sighed. "Bard, of course, I will give you anything you wish, but I must ask you not to do this." He looked conflicted.
"Why not?"
"When I took Rhys into the treatment room, I promised him that what Elénaril and I saw would never be revealed. I have already broken that promise, when I sent you and Alun the reports, and I need to apologize to him for it, but I must ask you to respect the boy's privacy."
Bard looked at his husband intently, "Why would you do that?"
"Rhys was frightened, and full of shame. It seemed the right thing, to convince him to get medical care. He clearly was injured, and I could have forced him in there, but it would have humiliated and damaged the child, even more."
Bard nodded and blew out his breath. "I see your point. You're right, though; you'll have to speak to Rhys when you think it best. He might be upset, but not as much as you fear, love. We've moved on, and so has he. If you want me with you when you tell him, I'd be happy to help."
Bard stood, pulled Thranduil to his feet, and kissed him. "We've got a couple of hours before lunch, the sun is out, and Fînlossen needs some exercise. Come on, love."
The rest of the morning was spent outdoors on their stallions, as Thranduil showed Bard some of the area around his Palace. Bard loved the forest in the winter; the sun was reflecting the ice and snow on each branch of the trees, making it all sparkle like jewels. Both Kings held their heads up and absorbed the light from the sun, with closed eyes, as their horses walked along the path.
Thranduil took them to the Forest River, so he could see the icicles on the waterfall, and talked to him about the trees and animals he has known in that area.
"This reminds me of being on the river, in the winter. I loved to look at the snow and ice on the trees.
"Do you miss Laketown?"
"Not really. I was born and bred on that water, and know it like I know myself, but I'm glad we're all in Dale now. I've never felt that way about Laketown."
"Really?"
"I've always loved my people, Thranduil, but that didn't mean I loved Laketown. When we first came into Dale, I felt like I was… coming back to something. I knew I was descended from Girion, and when we entered the city, I knew I belonged there."
"Your lineage was calling to you, Meleth nîn." Thranduil urged his horse closer. "I hope you think of this forest is your home, too."
Bard took his hand, and squeezed it through their soft, leather gloves. "My real home, love, is you."
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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
Suilon, Aran nîn, Brannon nîn Bard - Greetings, My King; My Lord Bard,
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DISCLAIMER: I am not, nor ever plan to be a medical expert, with regard to Tilda's condition. Since this is Middle Earth, I feel free to craft her recovery in my own way.