Chapter Nineteen
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SUMMARY: Bard has a wonderful morning, which starts with a pleasant walk in the King's Garden. The afternoon goes very differently, when he meets with the two prisoners, Ina and Iola.
The clouds have gathered, and a terrible storm is coming... Thranduil does his best to support him, but how much can he really help?
Has Bard reached his limit?
**TRIGGER WARNING** Mentions of physical, emotional abuse, rape and incest.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
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The Woodland Realm, 18th of February 2942, T.A.
"Good morning, Galion." The Aide was getting the silverware and dishes from the sideboard, preparing for everyone's breakfast. "How are you?"
"I am well." He responded, as he began to set the table. "Oh, no; you do not have to help," he protested, as Bard took the stack of plates from the Elf and began to set the table.
"Galion, in times like these, we'll all work together. And you'll be taking a seat with us; too. We need this family to be as close as possible, right now."
The dark-haired Elf nodded. "As you wish. Have you checked Tilda this morning?"
"I'm about to. Esta didn't wake us, so she slept through the night."
"That is such good news." Galion smiled in relief.
"It is," he sighed. "It really is."
"If there is anything—"
Bard went over and put his hands on the Elf's shoulders. "You're doing it, my friend. You've been doing it since the beginning. You prop us all up, and I've never been more grateful; I hope you know that."
"Thank you." Galion gave him a small smile.
"One question, though: Who's holding you up?"
"Oh, do not worry about me. Lady Hilda and I take turns 'crying into our tea towels,' as she puts it. We have our moments, then we get through them, much like you and Thranduil help each other."
Bard studied the Aide's face. Galion did look careworn. But, didn't they all?
"I'm going to see if Tilda's awake, and take the dog out." He walked into the nursery, and saw Tilda on her side, snuggling with Charlotte, but Daisy had fallen on the floor, so he quietly picked up the toy, tucked it under the Little Bean's arm, then snapped his fingers at Esta.
The dog leapt down gently, then they went into the big bedroom, where Thranduil was beginning to stir on the big bed. Esta wagged her tail, as she jumped on the bed, and began to lick the Elvenking's face in earnest.
"Thank you, Esta; I am awake now." Thranduil mumbled.
When Bard reached down to kiss him, the Elf said. "Mmmm… that is much better, although Esta runs a close second."
"Ha, ha. At least Esta doesn't snort and fart, like Thangon does." Bard ran his fingers through his Elf's hair. "You look tired, love. Do you want to sleep some more?"
"I would love to," was the reply, "but I need to get up." Thranduil stretched and began to rouse himself.
"Keep a listen for Tilda, would you? I'm taking Esta for a walk."
"I will. Gi melin, Bard."
Bard leaned down and kissed him again. "Love you, too."
Bard grabbed his cloak, went out and spent some time walking through the King's Garden, as the black-and-white dog ran around ahead of him, anxious for some exercise.
He went through the doorway, and began to walk the curved paths at a brisk pace, taking in the crisp morning air. He looked around at all the covered flower beds, the marble statues, and the stone benches, placed intermittently along the path. Most of the trees were bare; enjoying their winter slumber, and the evergreens looked like they were decorated in white frosting. The bushes and topiaries had been wrapped in coarse fabric, to protect them during the cold months.
Bard stopped for a moment and took in some deep breaths. This place must be beautiful in the summer! Thranduil and Mírelen's wedding ceremony took place here, and it wasn't hard to imagine why. Compared to what he imagined this place was like, a simple ceremony in a tent in the middle of a refugee camp, seemed crude, but it really wasn't.
Bard and Thranduil's ceremony had been a beautiful one, nonetheless, because they both understood what really mattered. Just as when he married Mattie, all surroundings fell away, and it was only Thranduil's face he saw, as Gandalf spoke the words. When Thranduil slipped his ring on Bard's finger, he never took his eyes off him, and vice-versa. His voice was soft, but full of surety, as his Elf pledged himself to him. Bard didn't remember speaking; all he could see was Thranduil's face; so full of love and gratitude and hope for the future. Both had learned the harsh lesson, that love would not save them from heartache or tragedy, but their love could help them bear life's storms together.
And now, they were all a family. In one sense, it felt new and exciting, but they all settled in with each other like it had been that way for years. There was a sense of quiet surety about all their lives now, and that was the stuff that would carry them through whatever life would throw at them.
Then, with a pang, he thought of his Mattie. Was she happy, wherever she was? She wanted him to find joy, here on Middle Earth, and he hoped she'd found the same.
"I'll always love you," he said, to the cold air, wondering if she could hear him, or if the message could somehow be sent to her. "I did what you said, and I love my life, now. You'd be so proud of the children. You'd be proud of all of us."
He walked for a while longer, then whistled, and clapped his hands a few times. "Esta! Lelyë vi!" A few minutes later, the dog zoomed up, then sat obediently at his feet.
He scratched behind her ears. "Did you have a good run?" he asked her, and as she panted happily. "I wonder how you'll get along with my big boy," he asked Esta.
Esta smiled up at him and barked.
"Oh, don't worry; I know who'll be wearing the pants in that relationship, but please, no pups. We've got enough on our hands, at the moment, yeah?"
Esta put her front paws on his leg, whined and wagged her tail.
"I know. Time to go back to your patient." Before he reached the door to the palace, he took another look around, at the sleeping garden, to fortify himself for what the day might bring. He heaved a sigh, and went in to see his family.
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After breakfast, he walked with the children to school, then knocked on the door to Feren and Glélindë's home. He had matters to talk over with Gruffudd.
"Good morning, Lord Bard; how nice to see you!" 'Lindë smiled at him, as she opened the door to their rooms. "Please, come in; welcome to our home."
Bard nodded to his guard, who remained outside, Bard entered to find a comfortable, apartment, well-kept, in spite of the toys scattered around the living room. Little Dafina zoomed in from another room to see who was here.
"Alis is back in school, but Dafina is here. Mallen Ant, what do we say to King Bard?"
"Dood morning, Yord Bard," Dafina smiled and tried to curtsy, but lost her balance and fell.
Before the little girl had a chance to get upset, 'Lindë picked her up. "That was a good try, do you not think, My Lord?"
Bard nodded his head regally, and kissed the little girl's hand. "You did very well, young lady."
"Please, come sit down."
She led him into their living room, where Gruffudd was reading, with his leg on a stool.
"Good morning, Lord Bard." The man made to stand.
"Oh no; please, sit. I need to talk to you, but first, I'd like to visit my young subject, here." Then Bard turned to the little girl, who sat on the couch, next to their mother. "So, tell me, Miss Dafina; do you and your sister like your new home?"
"I yike it a yot!" Dafina smiled, and crawled off the couch to stand before him. "Nana's weal nice, an' Ada's weal nice, an' Grandda yikes his chair, too!"
"I can see that. What does your Grandda like about his chair?"
She shrugged her shoulders and tilted her head in that charming way toddlers have, then she started to swing her arms back and forth as she talked. "Oh, he smokes his pipe, and weads to me, and tews me 'tories about my Mam and Da. I yove dem, too, and I pway with my toys, and my sister yikes it here, a yot, too. And," she added with a air of importance, "I got my own bed, too!"
"Your own bed? That's very grown up."
Dafina just grinned and added little half-turns as she swung her arms. "I sweep with Awis some nights, though." Then she leaned forward to tell him a secret. "Awis is in cwass now, but she'll be here yater."
"Lucky for you; that means you get your Naneth all to yourself, right? So, what do you do, when your sister is at school?"
"Oh, I yike to pway, and I make Grandda pictuwes, and I help Nanaaaa... Annnd...I have pwaygwoup!" She threw her arms out wide.
Glélindë grinned. "Lady Hilda has organized a group for the youngest children a few times a week, to play, and sing songs. We Elven mothers come too, and we learn about things children like to do."
"That sounds like a lot of fun." Bard agreed.
"Is your home weal nice, King Bawd?" Dafina asked him.
"I sure think so. It's almost as nice as yours, but I don't have as many toys as you do."
'Lindë picked up the little girl. "Come, Mallen Ant, let us go make tea for Grandda and the King. I need your help."
After they left, Bard smiled after her. "If cuteness could be sold, you'd be the richest people this side of the Misty Mountains."
"They are my joy," 'Lindë's smile was serene. "We all miss Feren, but they have settled in nicely."
Bard leaned forward and brought up the reason for his visit. "Gruffudd, I've been thinking about what you said, and there is something you and your men could do for Dale. We'll have lots of new homes for our people to move into, but we need to start thinking of furniture."
Gruffudd sat up straighter. "You're right," he said hopefully.
"The original plan was to send lumber to Dale, and have them make it, but I think you and your boys can make some things here.
"Such as?"
"We need bed frames, Gruffudd, and plenty of them. You can make them here, and they can be shipped to Dale in pieces. That would free up the men's time in Dale to build other things we'll need. I only want basic frames to hold the mattresses; no headboards. Many of you will be setting up businesses and at least one of them will be furniture, so I only want things that can help Dale get started, and as our economy grows, our people can buy fancier stuff. If you can get enough made, I'll have you start on benches, and such, too."
"Aye, we can do that." The man smiled.
"Good. Get your men together, find out who can do what, and set it up. I'll let King Thranduil know what you'll be doing, and he'll meet with you to make sure you have what you need."
"That sounds grand, but…"
"Oh, don't worry. Hilda and Thranduil will come here, to meet you and the men."
"I thank you, Sire. This Palace is awful big, and it's a long walk for someone on crutches."
"I'll be a while, but you'll be dancing on the tabletops sooner than you think." Bard winked, but then he was serious. "Gruffudd, I'm glad you talked to me, and I owe you an apology for not considering you and your men. It was wrong of me, and I'm sorry."
"Oh, don't be, My Lord. Truth be told, there are still some of us who won't be able to do much. But the effort will make us feel better. We none of like to be coddled."
"I'd like you to encourage the men to be patient, and keep in mind we're all trying to understand each other. It'll take a while, my friend. Just be patient. If run into any problems, tell a guard, and he'll get Hilda to help iron out any misunderstandings. That's part of her job."
"Aye. Thanks again, Lord Bard."
"Hewe's da tea!" said Dafina, as she ran into the room ahead of 'Lindë, who was carrying the tray.
"Those cookies look good; did you help make them?" Bard asked the little girl.
She nodded her head vigorously. "Aye! Nana and me tooked 'em!"
"Really? Do you like to cook?"
"I yike to hewp. When Ada tame, he hewped us make bweakfast for Nana."
Gruffudd smiled at the golden-haired child fondly. "Dafina makes sure I get enough to eat, don't you, love?"
"Uh huh!" She climbed into Gruffudd's lap and smiled at Bard.
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After enjoying a short chat with the tea, Bard got up and shook Gruffudd's hand. "Thank you for your service to Dale, and for your willingness to help. I appreciate it."
"'Tis my honor, My Lord."
"Thank you, ladies for the fine tea." Bard said, as Glélindë, with Dafina on her hip, walked him to the door.
"By the way," Bard said to Gruffudd, "Seems the Elves have some equipment to brew ale in the stores somewhere. If one of your men knows how to do it, set him up to supervise; it's not something Elves do a great deal. I've sent for some casks of ale from Erebor, to tide you all over. I'd like you to ration it, please. It will last longer, plus I don't want to see any reports of drunkenness from the men, or I won't buy any more. Is that a deal?"
"It's a deal," Gruffudd shook his hand, and grinned. "Many thanks, My Lord."
"You're most welcome. Bye, now." Bard said as he walked through the door.
"Bye, Yord Bard!" said Dafina, with a cute smile and a wave.
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He made it back to his family's chambers in time for lunch, while Thranduil stayed in the nursery, to help Tilda eat her lunch. Meriel was scheduled to stay with her this afternoon.
After seeing the children off again, Bard went to see Tilda, who was finishing up, with Thranduil's help. Her plate was empty, and her glass of milk was almost gone. Thranduil held his hands over hers, as she finished it.
"You ate a good lunch, Little Bean. How do you feel?"
"Good." Tilda said, just as Daeron came in, and announced he wanted her to try to sit on the edge of the bed, and even to stand for a few minutes.
The three of them worked together; Bard and Daeron held each of her elbows, while Thranduil stood in front. She was able to sit up fairly well, but when they slowly brought her up to stand, and she began to put weight on her feet, she could only manage it for a second or two, before she listed to the left.
"Please do not worry. This is what I expected, My Lady; you are doing very well."
"I almost fell."
"We will do this more and more, and you will become strong again." Thranduil told her. "This the work you must do to get better."
After a short visit, Meriel arrived, so Thranduil, Bard and Daeron left the room, and dropped their sterile robes.
As they walked into the living room, Bard asked, "Besides having her stand, how else can we help her?"
"Continue with her exercises, and once she is out of isolation, it would be good for her to begin exercises in the pool. The buoyancy of the water will make it easier for her to stand, and walk."
"That's a good idea; she's always loved the water, so it'll be fun for her. We'll have to see about ordering a bathing outfit for her."
"Of course, Meleth nîn. I shall send the request to Taenya today."
Daeron added, "I wanted to tell you; Elénaril has given her permission for Meriel to oversee her daily care and her lessons.
"Excellent." Thranduil said, and Bard nodded his agreement.
"Mistress Bronwyn and I have devised some exercises that will help her, memory and recognition. Meriel can be instructed to carry these out easily. For this, I will need your help, Lord Thranduil."
"How so?"
"I would like you to draw two sets of different objects and animals, on some cards, and color them. We can use them for different sorts of memory games and make it fun."
"How many different things?"
"As many as you can think if, My Lord. Animals, plants, flowers, and as many ordinary objects that she would see throughout the day, such as a chair, a candle, or a book. When Lady Tilda is able to join you out here, make simple cards with the names of objects here in your chambers, and attach them to each item. Try not to draw attention to them; just keep them up, and this will help Tilda, as well."
Thranduil smiled. "I shall get to work on them as soon as possible."
Bard could feel his eagerness to help, and smiled at him. He despised the idea of leaving, but it's true that this is the best place for her. Thranduil was just as eager as Bard, to have their little girl back; they wanted her happy smile, and her giggle and her sense of wonder.
Bard took Thranduil's hand squeezed it. "Thanks, love."
One foot in front of the other.
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That afternoon, Thranduil sat beside his husband who was, occupying the desk chair, again. Bard, was sitting back, and steepled his fingers thoughtfully against his chin.
The prisoners, Ina and Iola were sitting in the chairs opposite, with four guards standing behind them.
There was silence in the room. Bard was waiting, looking at each of them in turn, and had not said a single word since they entered. This was making the women increasingly uncomfortable, and Thranduil could see their nervousness show in their posture, but, they knew not to speak, unless their King spoke first.
Oh, he loved seeing his Bowman exude such quiet power… Just look at him! This was not something that can be taught. When he saw Bard like this, he saw all the Kings who went before him; especially Girion. He was Girion; yet so much more, and not just because Thranduil loved him.
At last, Bard picked up one of the papers sitting on his desk, and began to read, oh-so-casually:
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"'13th of January; 2942, T.A
To the King of Dale…"
Bard paused for a moment, then said sarcastically, "Now where is that paragraph… Oh, yes! Here it is…
'We have every right to demand satisfaction from the Princess Sigrid and Prince Bain. They should fix this, but instead they became disrespectful.
'If they were my children, they would have gotten slapped, and I told her so, and I don't mind telling you, either…'"
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Bard skewered the women with quiet fury in his eyes. "Let me see if I understand this correctly… you 'don't mind telling' me that my children should be slapped, is that right?" Bard said, through gritted teeth. "Well, ladies, here I am. Tell me to my face how you should be allowed to slap a Prince and Princess of the Realm." Bard sat back again and looked at the both of them. "I'm waiting."
Ina looked down at her hands, and Iola looked at Bard, with angry eyes, but said nothing.
"Perhaps you would like to see this? To read it out loud? Would that help?" Bard asked helpfully, and held the paper up. "This is only a copy, mind you, but every word you wrote to me is here. Would you like to see it, ladies?"
Ina looked up at Bard for a moment, and shook her head. "No."
"No, what?" Thranduil demanded.
She looked up at him in confusion.
"You sit here before your King." Thranduil told her. "You are also in my Realm, and I demand you pay your King all the courtesy he is owed. Is that clear?"
Ina swallowed. "Yes, My Lord." Then she looked over at Bard, and sighed. "I do not wish see the letter, My Lord."
Bard continued. "As you know, you have not just been imprisoned because of offenses to my own children. In this letter, you freely admit to the abuse of your own grandson and great-nephew. There have also been reports that you beat your former servants, Lynne and Mona. What do you have to say for yourselves?"
Neither one of them spoke.
"You don't recollect what you wrote? Allow me to remind you, then:
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"'Rhys is away from his father, thank the Valar, otherwise he would be a spoiled brat, too. We're taking the winter to make sure he is as disciplined as we were, which did us a world of good, I can tell you that! I don't hesitate to cuff him about the ears, to make sure he behaves. No matter what my son Alun says, that boy is going to be raised right, just like my father did me.'
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"Those are your words, are they not?" He looked at Ina, whose eyes were still cast downward, and nodded.
"You must answer out loud to your King." Thranduil ordered.
"Yes, My Lord. I did." The older woman said, in a flat voice.
"And Iola helped you with this?"
Both Bard and Thranduil directed icy gazes into the sister. "You admit you helped your sister write this?"
"It's my signature on that letter, as you well know, My Lord." The woman spat out the last words with as much venom as she could manage. "She didn't know what to say - Ina never knows what to say - so I told her what to write, and every word of it is the truth!"
"You admit beating your great-nephew, then?"
"I did nothing wrong. The boy needed discipline."
"Oh, and what did that boy do to justify all the welts and bruises on him? Tell me!"
"That… child needed to have the badness taken out of him! It was the only way!" Iola was so vehement, she actually spit, a little, when she talked.
Thranduil began to feel something ominous in his chest. This woman was clearly mad.
"What about you?" Bard directed a cold glance at Ina. "Do you still think this way?"
The woman's eyes filled, and she didn't meet his eyes. She looked weary. "I don't think so, My Lord. I know you have no cause to believe me, and I understand that, but… many things I thought I knew…things I believed were true and right…" she swallowed again.
"Ina…" her sister gave her a warning, in a low tone.
Bard ignored the sister. "Now let us speak of your two servants, who both allege that you beat them, as well. You wrote to me, demanding their return:
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'I demand the return of our servants immediately! I will no longer work with Hilda, and if she thinks I'm going to do dishes or mop anything, she's got another thing coming, I don't care what that Elf King of yours says.'
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"You 'don't care' what King Thranduil says? Why is that?" Bard asked, smoothly. He showed no emotion, although Thranduil knew he was furious. Despite the subject matter, he enjoyed seeing his husband in action, and could easily see him holding court in his own Kingdom, when the time came.
"I…" Ina struggled for words. "I was…afraid." She looked at Iola, who stared back at her with her mouth in an angry, straight line.
"Oh? Tell me what could make you so afraid that you felt justified to beat your servants?"
Ina looked at her sister again, nervously. "I lost my home, and I lost everything I knew. I didn't know anything about cooking, or cleaning how to look after myself. Papa would never allow us to learn those things –"
"Don't you dare speak against Papa!" Iola hissed at her sister. One of the guards behind her grabbed her shoulder to make sure she stayed in her seat.
Bard addressed the woman sharply. "You will not interrupt, do understand? You will allow your sister to speak freely, or I'll remove you!"
Iola looked furious, but she sat back and shut up.
"Ina, you will continue, and do not worry about repercussions from your sister. Please go on."
"My Lord, even when I was married, I didn't do anything to look after myself. My husband and I lived with my sister and Papa, and he wouldn't allow me even to look after my own son. After Alun was born, Alwyn wanted us to have our own home, but…" Ina was tugging and pulling at the handkerchief that she had pulled out of her pockets.
Iola's look became even darker, and her fists clenched.
"But?"
"Papa threatened to ruin him, if we ever thought about leaving, and Iola wanted me to stay…"
"And?"
After a few moments, Ina admitted, "I was afraid, My Lord."
"Of your husband? Was he unkind to you?"
"No… but I was afraid. Papa was good friends with the ruler of Laketown then, and I knew he'd make good on his threats against my husband."
"You speak of the Master?" Thranduil asked, looked between her and Bard.
"No." Bard told him. "This Lord of Laketown was before the Master. My Da said he was a halfway decent man, better than the Master was." Bard addressed Ina, again. "Regardless of what Ioan told his daughters, I doubt the man would allow himself to be manipulated like that."
Ina's face was stricken. "Papa kept saying Alwyn would have no job, and I didn't even know how to look after them. I…convinced Alwyn to stay, because I knew he was right."
Iola hissed, with her teeth clenched.
"Silence!" Bard barked at the sister.
"Ina," Bard asked, "when did your husband pass?"
"Just after Alun reached his first birthday. My husband finally convinced me to leave, and said we could go to my cousin's in Bree. He told me he had money saved, and it was all arranged, but then… he died."
"How did he die?" Bard asked.
"He drowned, My Lord."
Thranduil and Bard looked at each other, each thinking the same thing. "Do you think it was just an accident?"
Ina froze, and didn't say anything for several minutes. Then she swallowed, "I don't know…"
Iola's face was contorted with fury. "You traitorous BITCH!" She shot out of her chair and leapt on her sister with a maniacal scream, her hands ready to claw here sister's eyes out.
Before either King could react, two of Dior's guards grabbed the woman and easily got her under control, dragging her over by the door and out of reach.
The guard looked to Thranduil for orders, then Bard leaned over to Thranduil and whispered in his ear. "Tell them to hold the women here in Sindarin. If Iola refuses to cooperate, I want her hands bound again. I need to speak with you."
After doing as Bard asked, the Kings stood up and went into Galion's office and shut the door, as Iola continued to spewing words of frantic fury.
"My Lord?" Galion looked up in alarm from his desk.
"Please do not worry, Galion; there are four guards in that room; everything is in hand. We need to confer for a moment; out of their hearing." Thranduil said.
"Can I get you anything?" Galion still did not look convinced.
"Yes. Bring some fresh water, and a bottle of my strongest Dorwinian to my office; I think we might need it." Thranduil led him to Galion's couch and sat down.
"Do you think Ina's husband was murdered?" Bard asked.
"It's a possibility, but do not draw conclusions, unless you have clear evidence, or a confession, Bard. That is something to keep in mind in cases like these. Theorize, yes, but always be objective."
"Aye, you're right. I'm kind of learning as I go, here."
Thranduil smiled and put his hand on Bard's knee. "Meleth nîn, if this is you 'learning as you go,' then I look forward to watching you in court when you've had some experience. You are a credit to all your forefathers, in there."
Bard nudged him with his shoulder. "Thanks."
"Do you remember these women, in Laketown?"
"I knew of them. I was from the poorer part of town, and Alun is the same age as me, so I never knew Alwyn. It's true those two women hardly left the house. I don't ever remember meeting them."
"Do you think Iola had anything to do with Alwyn's death?" Thranduil asked Bard.
"I wouldn't be surprised. She's… off. Maybe she or her father killed Alwyn, or both; I don't really know. Regardless, I'm done speaking to them together. Please have Iola removed, and put somewhere out of the way. I'll send for her, when I'm ready."
"Excellent idea, My King." Thranduil gave him a smile.
"I'd like to have Ina's things moved into another set of rooms if you can spare them. I want them separated, with no contact. I don't see how Iola can be good for anybody; least of all herself, anymore."
Thranduil nodded, and looked to Galion. "Can you see it done? Take two of the guards with you, as they will know what belongs to her. And speak in Sindarin. We do not want the women to know what we are doing."
"Of course, My Lord." Galion got up immediately and went into Thranduil's study.
"Are you ready, Bard?"
Bard's face became serious. "No," he sighed. "I don't think I'll ever get used to things like this."
"The day you get used to it, is the day you stop being a good King. Never forget the weight of this, but you must be strong enough to carry out what needs to be done."
"I have a bad feeling about this, love. There's something really ugly going on here, and I'd like you to stay close by, if you could."
"Anything you need, Bard." Thranduil took Bard's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I'll be by your side; today and always."
They each let out a breath, then returned to Thranduil's office and sat down again.
The Elvenking gave orders to Iola's guard to take her away, then addressed the woman in Westron. "I have ordered my guard to bind you, but if you do anything to disturb the peace in my Palace, he will gag you, is that clear?"
Dior's Lieutenant, an Elf named Elion, moved forward to rebind Iola's hands in front of her, and just for good measure, pulled a grey kerchief from his pocket, to show her he was ready to follow through on the Elvenking's promise.
Soon, Iola was gone, Galion brought the drinks, and Ina remained in front of Dior, cowed.
"Since King Thranduil is now Rhys's legal guardian, it's only fair that he be given an opportunity to speak." Bard nodded to Thranduil. "My Lord?"
Thranduil's demeanor turned icy. "Regardless of the remorse you appear to be feeling now, I have something to say about condition I found your grandson in."
Ina nodded and swallowed, but didn't say anything.
The Elvenking continued. "I was with your grandson throughout his medical examination. I saw every single mark, every single bruise. I have lived through this entire Third Age, and I have seen more horrendous things than I could describe. Things I would not wish on anyone, except an Orc. So, believe me, when I tell you, the condition that boy was in, was one of the most despicable things I have ever seen in my nearly four thousand years on Middle Earth!" The Elvenking pounded the desk in fury.
Ina cringed, shaking. Her arms instinctively crossed in front of her and she lowered her head, to deflect a blow she seemed sure was coming.
Bard gave Thranduil exchanged a meaningful look. One question they had, was just answered. Ina had been badly beaten, herself.
Then he said, "I'm going to ask you some questions, and you will answer truthfully. King Thranduil is a powerful Elf, and he will know if you are lying."
It was Thranduil's turn to be surprised, but impressed. This was a clever idea.
"Was it just you who beat your own grandson?" Bard asked.
"No, My Lord."
"Who was responsible for more of the beatings, you or Iola?"
"Well, Iola, but it was just as much my fault; I should have stopped her."
"Why do you think you should have stopped her?"
"Because… I began to feel like it was wrong, and I didn't protect him. It was my fault."
"Did you beat your son, Alun?"
"Yes."
"Alun grew up in your father's house, is that correct?"
"Yes. I've lived there my entire life."
"So, Alun was with you?"
"Yes, but servants looked after him, and Papa was in charge of him."
Bard didn't say anything for a few minutes.
"Tell me; when you and your sister were young, did you ever spend any times with friends, outside of your house?"
"Well, no, My Lord. Papa taught us at home, and he wouldn't let us go out and play. He said other children were filthy, he said, and would make us sick."
"When you beat your son, did you do it of your own volition, or was it your father's idea?"
"He told me Alun had evil in him, and I had to take care of it, just like he got rid of the bad in me." Ina looked at them with dull, blue eyes.
"I see. And when you beat your grandson, what role did your sister play?"
The woman sighed. "I am… I am to blame for my own actions."
Bard didn't sugar p-coat it. "Yes, you are to blame," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Let me ask something else: what would Rhys do, to make you beat him?"
"Iola kept saying the same thing Papa always said; that there was evil in him. Sometimes she would drag him out of bed in the night, because she said Papa came to her in a dream, telling her to get rid of the evil.'" The woman's voice toneless and matter-of-fact.
With every word that came out of Ina's mouth, Thranduil could see her absorb the enormity of her actions, and it wasn't a pleasant sight. He didn't quite feel pity for her, but he was beginning to lean in that direction.
Bard thought for a few moments. "I want to be sure I understand. Your own father beat you and your sister, and would not allow you to have friends, and he barely allowed you to leave the house."
A long silence, then, "Yes, My Lord."
"If you never went anywhere, how was it that you came to be married?"
"Papa brought him home, one day, and said I was to marry him."
"Was Alwyn ever unkind to you?"
"No, My Lord; never! But after Alun was born, he… just didn't want to live with Papa and Iola anymore."
"What did Iola think of your husband?"
"She didn't like him in the house, but she didn't say anything. We always did what Papa said."
"He would beat you only when you disobeyed him, then."
"No, My Lord. He said the Valar told him things they'd found in our souls, and they wanted him to save us, so sometimes he would have to hurt us, to make the badness go away."
Bard sat back, and took a deep breath, with a look of dread on his face.
Thranduil watched him carefully. He was calm, and in control, but through their bond, he felt a trepidation and revulsion, that matched his own. Instinctively, he knew Bard was about to ask questions that he didn't want to ask, and they would receive answers that they didn't want to hear.
"Ina, did your father show you any affection to you? Ever?"
The woman shut down even more, as she retreated into herself. "Yes," she whispered, as she found a spot on the wall behind them, to look at.
"Can you tell me what kind of affection he would show you?"
"Sometimes, at night…in my room…Papa would... He said he was being... nice." Ina whispered, looking into her lap with shame.
Thranduil took a deep breath, and his toes curled inside his boots. What she was hinting at was unthinkable amongst Elves! He was vaguely aware of this type of thing; one couldn't be as old as he was and not hear stories about this, but he'd never faced this up close.
This didn't excuse the treatment of Rhys or the servants, but nothing excused the father's treatment of these two women, either.
Bard sighed and said very gently. "I'm going to ask you something, Ina, and you must tell me truthfully; do you understand?"
"Yes, My Lord."
"Is Alwyn the father of Alun?"
Ina's face turned ashen, and Thranduil's stomach roiled, and did his best to control his surprise at Bard's question. That honestly had not occurred to him.
"Ina?" He heard Bard ask again.
The woman's eyes closed, and she shook her head, ever so slightly.
"Did you father arrange for you to marry Alwyn because you were already pregnant?"
"I…know what you're asking." She paused for a very long time and stared off into space, again. Then she opened her mouth, and said in a lifeless voice, "Papa said it was a secret, and I was to tell no one. He told me it was the Valar's will, and that it was a sacred thing, to carry his child." Her face was as frozen as the rest of her, but a tear rolled down her cheek, unchecked and unnoticed. "Papa said Ulmo himself came to him in a dream, and told him I had to marry, to protect the secret."
"You say your father brought Alwyn home for you to marry?"
"Yes, My Lord. He worked for the Lord of Laketown then, and Alwyn was a footman at the manor."
"Did Alwyn know the child wasn't his?"
"Yes."
"How did he feel about that?"
"Papa told him I had… gotten into trouble with another man, who deserted me. He didn't know the truth of it when he married me. But he… was my friend, My Lord." Ina's voice broke. "He was the only friend I ever had." The tears continued to flow, but she sat still, and didn't meet anyone's eyes. "I couldn't… I mean, we never…"
"Did your husband mind this?"
"No. I had a hard pregnancy, so the midwife said no marital relations until after the babe was born. Then after… I…" She said, in eerie, matter-of-fact tones. "I couldn't… We tried, but… I couldn't do it. He was so kind about it…"
"What made him want to take you away from your father's house?"
"He…" Ina's voice hitched, and she swallowed. "Alwyn said he'd no idea what Papa was really like at home, because he seemed to be such a good man, when he was at the manor. He guessed the truth about the baby after a while, even though I'd never said a word. He told me one night that he knew, and he didn't make me feel ashamed at all… He was so gentle, My Lord. I wanted him to be… I pretended to myself that he was really Alun's father. Alwyn cared for me, and he adored Alun; he really did, My Lord. And…when I was with him, I felt safer. I slept better, because he protected me from…"
"Did Alwyn ever tell you why he agreed to marry you in the first place?"
"He said he liked me when he met me, and saw I needed someone. He felt that he could grow to love me. We did love each other, the best we could."
Thranduil gave Dior a quick order in Sindarin, and the Guard stepped over and poured the woman a glass of water, which she accepted gratefully.
"Tell me about how your husband died."
"He wanted us to be safe, and for Alun to grow up in a good, kind house. I told him about my mother's cousins in Bree, and we agreed it was far enough away from Papa that we could have a real life. Alwyn had the boat ready, and the carriage was going to meet us on the shore to take us there." Her lip trembled. "We kept it a secret, but three days before we were supposed to leave, Alwyn was found floating in the lake; he had drowned."
Thranduil had never seen a child of Man in this state. The woman could be a statue; she was so still, so frozen. The only indication that she was even human were the tears falling down her face, and the words coming out of her mouth. It was a haunting sight.
"Did you ever wonder if your father guessed you were trying to escape?"
"I… didn't dare think on it."
Bard leaned forward and put his elbows in the desk. "I'm sorry, Ina, but I have to ask you this. Do you think it's possible that your father, or your sister, killed Alwyn to keep you in that house?"
The woman began to shake, and her faced turned grey, before it quickly became green. Dior barely manage to get the waste can in front her, as Ina became violently ill.
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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
Esta! Lelyë vi – (Quenya) Esta! Come! (lit. "we go!")
Gi melin – I love you
Mallen Ant - "Golden Gift," Feren and Glélindë's pet name for Dafina
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NOTES:
For so many sufferers who face accusations of "why don't you just leave?" and are judged harshly for that, there is a very powerful explanation. "Learned Helplessness" is a real phenomenon that happens to victims of domestic violence:
wiki/Learned_helplessness
It's incumbent up on ALL OF US take the time to understand these things, rather than jump to conclusions, in order to feel comfortable.
If you are a victim of domestic violence, please seek professional help. For those in the US, If you are in immediate danger, call 9-1-1. For anonymous, confidential help, 24/7 , please call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 (SAFE) ...