12
Chapter Twenty-Three
SUMMARY: Thranduil has been terribly hurt by his Bowman. Will things ever be the same? Or is this the end for our Kings?
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Thranduil somehow found his way into the Palace; he knew that much.
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He looked over to the doors of his chambers –
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No. He couldn't. Not now. He needed to be alone, because he felt like half of him had just been ripped off, now his soul was bleeding out of him. Again. It was like this when Mírelen died. He was alone and bereft, again.
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"Thranduil? What's wrong, love? Where's Bard?"
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He knew his eyes were cast in Hilda's general direction, but he couldn't really see her, or Galion who had a worried look on his face.
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"Are you well?" he heard Galion's words.
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Thranduil moved his mouth, but he couldn't make words come out. All he could do was turn in the direction of his study, and dive into it.
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Once he closed and locked the it behind him, he groped his way over to the couch, and sat down, doubled over with agony. He lowered his head and buried it in his arms, as he gasped from the shock and pain. He tried to control his breathing, but it was impossible, because thoughts were racing through his mind, and the enormity of what had just happened with Bard sank into his heart and soul. He clutched the back of his head, as he sank lower into a ball, with his fingers buried in his own hair, to shield himself.
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Shield himself from what?
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From the world he had just begun to know and trust once more.
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From the emotions he'd at last begun to feel again. Emotions that he still struggled hard to manage, sometimes.
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From the love he'd found, again. Love he thought he shared with his Bard, but now he knew it wasn't real. He didn't know Bard was unhappy; why didn't he? Shouldn't he have felt it?
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But, theirs was a unique situation and the regular rules may not apply. Maybe their bond was an illusion, as well; maybe it was just wishful thinking. It was real to Thranduil, but perhaps Bard experienced things differently.
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Bard was right; he was a King, because Thranduil had pushed him into it. He was the rightful heir, but he'd never really had a choice, because Thranduil kept encouraging Bard to do it, and now the man was overwhelmed and hurting, and clearly this was more than he could bear.
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But that wasn't even the worst of it.
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He'd fallen in love with Bard, and while they both knew things could change, Thranduil had no inkling of the things he'd robbed from the man he loved, when he joined with him. He didn't know what would happen; neither of them did. Gandalf was careful to warn them, but they were too much in love to think it through.
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They'd been married just weeks after meeting each other. Weeks! What foolishness! Thranduil should have known better. Maybe he did know better, but he was so… excited about finding love! He was was so happy to have real feelings about anything again, he'd been blinded to the fact that Bard was different.
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He should have made them wait; at least until the spring, so they could weigh the price of their joining against the any benefit.
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Oh, Valar; how did he get it so wrong?
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He never meant to ruin anything for Bard! He only wanted to be with him; to love him with all his heart, but Bard finally admitted the truth: the price for Bard to love Thranduil was too high, and it wasn't going to work.
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Thranduil wasn't worth it; not to Bard. Thranduil loved his Bowman with every fiber of his being, but the cost of all this had ruined any chance of Bard loving him back. He loved the children so much…so much, and they would be turned away from him, to leave him alone in this Palace once more.
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Help me, he prayed. Help me bear it, when these rooms are silent and lonely again… Give me strength to go on…
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As soon as the words entered his mind, he knew he wouldn't be able to bear a loss like this again. He curled into himself even more, as his heart, his very soul was crushed into pieces so small, he doubted he'd ever recover from it.
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He adjusted his position, when his glamour fell, but he couldn't find it in him to replace it, and he didn't even care anymore. It seemed fitting that his outsides reflected the self-loathing within him.
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Who'd want to be with a freak like him?
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After a long time, his sobs began to slow down some, but he still keened and wailed in utter despair.
He didn't hear the door to Galion's study open, or the quiet footsteps, or someone sitting down beside him.
Arms reached to gather him, and offer comfort. He could tell it wasn't Galion. The good side of his face was held against a soft, pillowed chest, with a scent of lemon and spices. Strong, calloused hands, normally busy with activity, were gently stroking his hair.
"Shh…" Hilda whispered. "Lay your head, now, and let go of it. I've got you, love. I've got you…"
Thranduil didn't think he had anymore tears left in him, but he was wrong.
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Bard was sitting on the stone bench, staring off into the cold air. He'd worn himself out with crying long ago. He knew he couldn't stay out here forever, but he didn't know how he could go back in there, either.
He didn't think he could face Thranduil – what could he possibly say or do?
What he'd said was unfounded, and unforgivable. He didn't even mean them! Why, in the name of all the Valar, would he do this? Destruction wasn't what he wanted, and yet here he was, tearing down all hope for the future with the one he shared a soul with! With the one he knew he belonged with!
Oh, Valar…what have I done?
He was so, so tired. Bone-weary. He didn't think he had the energy to make it through this day, let alone contemplate any to come. Right in this moment, he didn't want to, either. Stars, he almost wished he could fade, like the Elves do, when faced with such utter grief and pain. It would be simple, wouldn't it? To just…leave, instead of trying to pick up the pieces of all the lives he had just shattered, because of his stupidity and his big mouth.
He closed his eyes, and buried his face in his hands.
"Do you mind if I join you?"
Startled, Bard instantly sat up straight, wiping his eyes quickly. "Of course, have a seat." His voice came out as a croak, but the other person was kind enough not to point that out.
As Galion sat down, Bard asked, "How long have I been out here?"
"Three hours."
His eyes widened. "Are the children all right?"
"Everyone is where they should be. Tilda is fine with Meriel, and the others are attending their riding lesson. Falarion decided on an outdoor ride today, so they will be later than usual. Elénaril insisted Sigrid go along, too."
At the mention of his daughter's name, Bard's head lowered, and he covered his eyes. "I didn't mean to hurt her, but the idea of her so close to… There was so much blood, and I just…" Bard's lips trembled. "Stars, Galion, I've never yelled at any of them like that!"
"I believe you, Mellon nîn."
"And that's not the worst of it. I hurt Thranduil and I never…" He couldn't help the sob that came out. "I-I took it all out on him, and I didn't mean it."
Galion sat back and studied him. "Much has changed in a very short time, Bard."
"Everything has changed! All Thranduil wanted to do was help me, and what did I do? I took it out on him, made him feel like he was to blame, when he wasn't! I said unforgivable things, Galion." He met Galion's gaze. "I swear; I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it! I deserve the blame, not him!
"I broke him, Galion. When I saw his face, I knew I ruined whatever trust we had. I destroyed him, and I destroyed my family, and I can't take any of it back! I've let everyone down, and I don't know what to do, now." Bard began to cry, again.
"You love him, Bard."
"I do! I love him so much, but…" he rubbed his hands over his chest. "I don't feel him…"
The Aide put his arm around Bard and steadied him, as his tears started again. "I'm so sorry."
"But you love him, Bard." Galion said, again.
"Like the air I breathe, but I can't face him, after what I've done. You should've seen the look on his face."
"I did see him. Hilda and I were in the hall when he came in."
Bard sighed, as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Oh, gods… You must hate me."
"I understand you are afraid," Galion said, kindly, as he gave a handkerchief. "For everyone's sake, you must try to work this out."
"But I ruined everything! And what do I say to the children? Stars, what about Tilda? What can I possibly to say to her?"
"Are you sure it's over between you two?"
Bard shook his head. "After the shit I just threw at him, I doubt he'd ever want to see me again, and I don't blame him! He should make me leave. I was vicious, and I've never been that way to anybody, before! I killed us over words I didn't even mean! Oh, Valar…"
"Let me ask you this: did you never fight with your wife, Mattie?"
"Sometimes. She had a temper." Bard told him. "But she never went off on me like I did to Thranduil. She'd never do that! What the bloody fuck is wrong with me, Galion?"
"What is wrong is that you are exhausted and overwhelmed. You have lost confidence in yourself, and it frightened you, and it came out as anger."
"But like that? I swear Galion; I've never done that before! Never!"
"Tell me this, Bard: have you ever had the burdens and cares you've had now? Your daughter was very, very ill, and we still do not know to what extent she will recover. You are now a King, and you are newly married, to someone of a different race and culture. You've had to learn many, many new things, in a very short time. The catalyst to your breakdown, I think, was when you had Ina and Iola brought before you, which ultimately ended in violence and death."
"And I made it worse! I made everything worse! I did it! I don't deserve Thranduil's forgiveness, even if he offered it." Bard gasped, trying to get the words out. "I don't deserve him anymore, Galion." He sobbed.
Galion rubbed Bard's back some more. "Would it help to know King Oropher and Queen Lindorië had their fair share of arguments? What you have described, is not unlike some of the shouting that went on between those two."
"Did she still love Oropher?"
"With all her heart," he smirked, "even when she was throwing the crockery at him."
"I don't know all that much about Elven marriage, I guess. I didn't think Elves could get angry at each other, once their fëas were joined."
The Aide laughed. "If that is true, then no one explained that to Oropher, as he was dodging plates. It was early in their marriage, and Oropher lost his temper and shouted at her, much like you did with Thranduil. He learned very quickly not to do it again. I believe you have also learned this lesson, have you not?"
"So, an Elven married couple is not so different, then."
"Some of it is different, but it is often the same as Men; each day brings challenges, and mistakes can be made."
"Kings can't afford to make mistakes, though. I screwed up, and look what happened: One person is dead, and two almost died!"
"How do you think you are responsible for that?"
"I should have seen it coming! It's my job to look for things like that, and I didn't!"
Galion shook his head, and sighed. "Oh, Bard, if you truly believe that, then you have made the biggest mistake of all! It is no wonder you are drowning! For everyone's sake, let go of that idea!"
"But so many people depend on me, and if I make any kind of a blunder, it hurts lives. I have to make all the right decisions!"
"Bard, what I see, is a Man who is overwhelmed, and trying too hard to keep up, even with his own body! I know you are working with Feren to regain your coordination, but are you being reasonable with yourself, or do you expect to learn it all in a week or two?"
"There's no time to ease into anything!"
"So tell me, Bard: If you truly believe that pushing yourself into exhaustion is the only way to cope with this, how is that working?"
"But –"
"If that course of action was reasonable, why did you end up out here?"
Bard looked at him, then looked at the snowy ground again.
"I do not believe you regret becoming King, nor do I think you regret your marriage at all. What I do think, is that you feel obliged to be a perfect King, and a perfect father, and a perfect husband. It is admirable to want do your best, but to never give yourself room for error, will ultimately set you up for failure. It is the self-fulfilling prophecy, Bard! Do you not see this?"
Bard sat up straight and looked at the fir tree not far away from where they were sitting. Galion was right. His perfectionism had destroyed what he loved most.
Oh, gods… The look on Thranduil's face…
"How do I go on from here?" Bard whispered. "I don't know anything right now. I really don't."
Galion squeezed his shoulders. "Bard, perhaps you should not worry what to do just yet. You are completely worn out, and you cannot make any decisions until after you get some rest."
"I feel like a limp, dirty dishrag." Bard heaved a sigh. "I can barely even move."
"We both know you cannot stay out here, but I do not believe you are ready to face anyone just yet." Galion, stood up and urged Bard to his feet. "I have an idea…"
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As Thranduil began to quiet down again, he remembered his scars, and jerked away in embarrassment.
But Hilda's arms wouldn't let him move. "Don't worry, love. I know all about that, and I couldn't care less, except that it hurts you. You just work on calming yourself, so you can put it back up."
"How do you know?"
"Bard told me, before he left the first time. He knew you'd never want the kids to see it, so I'm to watch out, and if your glamour falls, for any reason, I'm to distract the children, and steer them in another direction. He knew you'd never want to accidentally upset them, and you'll tell them in your own time."
"That was… considerate of him."
"Oh, lovey; he wasn't just being considerate; that boy loves you, I know it."
Thranduil swallowed. "It is my fault he is so upset. He said I pushed him into being King of Dale, and he is right. He never wanted this life."
"Do you think he meant that? Really? Or do you think he's so afraid of being a terrible King, he worked himself into a frenzy?"
He sighed. "I do not know. I love him, Hilda." Thranduil's became shaky. "But it is not just Kingship he's upset about. I did not know how angry he was about all the changes since we married. He hates what has happened to him, and he regrets marrying me."
"He actually told you he wished he'd never married you? He said those exact words?" Hilda tilted her head and raised her eyebrow.
"No, not exactly, but he did say said he hates not knowing himself. He was not prepared for that, not with everything else he must do. He said it's my fault for pushing him into being a King, and he blames me for being separated from the children, especially when Tilda got so sick. It's all too much, and I should have—"
Hilda put her fingers over his mouth. "Now you just stop, right there." She said kindly, but firmly. "Take a breather and calm yourself, so you can fix your face. You'll never be able to work out anything when you're in pain like that."
She waited patiently, until Thranduil could collect himself, then he closed his eyes and concentrated. The pain dulled, and when he felt better, he heaved a sigh of relief.
Hilda watched the full process with wonder. "Good gravy!" She shook her head. "I'll never get over how you Elves do that! When I get old and wrinkled, see what you can do for me, will you?"
She smiled and patted his hand, then got up and poured him a glass of wine. "Down the hatch. All of it."
Once he had finished it, she poured him another, then said, "I know you and Bard met with those women; last night, you both looked like you'd been run over by a pack of Wargs. Want to talk about it?"
So, Thranduil told her everything that wasn't under Seal. It felt a relief to speak of it, and to share his feelings about it. He talked with her about the scene they found on the walkway, and what it was like to see such good Elves, and one of his friends, bleed all over the ground.
When he talked himself out, he looked over at Hilda. Her face was filled with anguish and she was clutching the front of her shirt. "My lands… Oh, my lands…"
"I do not know what happened on the walkway, yet. We are sure she had hidden a homemade dagger, made from a nail file, somewhere on her person, and somehow managed to get to it. When her body is recovered, we may know more." Then he told her how he and Bard helped to treat the injured, and how Dior's heart stopped, but then started again, when Bard pounded on it, so furiously.
"I knew Bard was having difficulty, Hilda. I was trying to give him support; I was trying to help him, but he just…snapped. I've never seem him like this!" Thranduil wiped his eyes. "When I took him out to the gardens, I thought I could help him calm down, but…" his voice broke. "He told me how unhappy he was, and how he really felt about marrying me. That the cost of marrying me was too much for him. He said he hates how his life has changed, and I did not know this! How could I not know how unhappy he was?."
His voice shook, when he asked Hilda, "What do I do? I love him, and do not know what to do…" And she held him, again, as he wept.
"Oh, love; no wonder the two of you are worn to rags! On top of what Tilda's going through, too?" She hugged him tighter, "That's too much for anybody, King or no."
"But he was right, Hilda. I am too used to getting my own way. I did not wait even a day or two, after the Battle, before I pushed him into Kingship! I pushed him into everything! We were married too soon, Hilda, and it was wrong of me to allow that to happen! I should have made Bard take more time, to make sure this was what he really wanted. He's been alone for a long time - it was not real love for him; but just an infatuation…"
"Look, I know my Bard, and I know he loves you! Every time you smile, he thinks the sun's come out. And, no, it's not just sex. Oh, don't look at me like that…" She smirked. "My point is, Bard is plenty old enough, and smart enough to know the difference between infatuation and real, true love. Anyone with eyes can see how much he adores you."
Thranduil swallowed, but remained doubtful. "I never wanted to hurt him by urging him to be a King, or by all the changes he's going through. I didn't know what would happen to him; no one did… He is in torment, and it is because of me…".
His eyes closed and he began to cry again. "I was so happy to not be alone anymore, and to have someone to love; I've been so blind – "
"Thranduil, that's nonsense, and if you'd sit and think on it a while, you'd realize that. Whatever he said to you had nothing to do with what was really hurting him, can you understand that?"
"But he said –"
"Look, love. I don't know how Elves do it, but sometimes, when Men get buried in their own troubles, they can't even say why they hurt."
Thranduil was too afraid to believe her; to get his hopes up, again.
"Oh, lovey... That boy's so worn down from worrying about his people, wanting to be a good King, wanting to be a good husband and father, missing you all from Dale, worrying about Tilda... And look, dealing with those sisters would slam anybody behind the knees, and knock them to the ground! He was hurting and afraid, Thranduil. He felt so bad inside, he was grabbing at anything to just get the hurt out!"
"I want to believe you, but you should have seen him, out in the garden; Bard hates what I have done to him, and to his life. I think all of this has made him realized that what he felt for me wasn't real."
She sighed, got up, and pulled the Elvenking to his feet. "Maybe you're right, or maybe I am. What I do know, love, is that you're in no shape to deal with anything, and I know you don't want the children to see you like this." She smiled reassuringly up at him. "Now, come on."
She took him by the hand and led him into the hallway, but when he tried to approach the doors to his chambers, she steered him in down the Hall. "Oh, no you don't. You need some time apart from things, right now."
As they walked she said, "Now, Galion and I will take care of everything. He's cancelled all your appointments, and sent word to the Healing Hall that you'll be there tomorrow afternoon,to visit the guards. We'll will watch over the kids and make sure they get their dinner, and get them to bed. You are to do nothing but rest, until you can calm yourself, and get your bearings. I don't want to see your face until tomorrow, do you hear?
She stopped in front of an empty guest suite, "There's plenty of food and wine in there, along with a change of clothes. I will stay the night with the children," she grinned, "Under Esta's supervision, of course."
"But, what about Bard?"
"We've taken care of that, too; it's all arranged. He needs some time away just as badly as you do. Once you two have had a breather, then you can get together and decide how to handle this."
He kissed her hand. "Thank you. You are a treasure, Hilda."
She reached her arms up to hug him, and told him, softly. "You just look after yourself. No matter what happens, Thranduil, we all love you dearly, and that will never change. You won't be getting rid of me so easily, so don't worry about that. Just try to calm down, and get some rest; things always seem different, after a decent night's sleep. After tomorrow, I'll help you work out what to do about this, yeah?"
He nodded at her through blurred eyes, and swallowed. "Thank you..." He managed to give her a weak smile and went into the room…
…to find Bard sitting in a chair by the fireplace.
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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
Hervenn nîn – my husband
NOTES:
Bard did what was called a "Precordial thump" on Dior's chest. It is not a recommended procedure, and is no longer a part of CPR training. It looks great in the movies, and it also sounds great in a story, which is why, on my version of Middle Earth, it works miracles.
Just don't ever try that at home, kids; not without the proper supervision...
ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
NOTES: