10
Chapter Twenty-Five
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SUMMARY: Hilda and Galion locked our Kings in the same room, until they could work out what is best for themselves and their family. Both are hurting, both are afraid, and both are sorry.
Will it be enough?
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The Woodland Realm, 19th of February 2942, T.A.
Bard had grasped Thranduil's hands and pressed them into his breastbone.
"Please," he begged, "please tell me I didn't ruin us. I can't live without you! I can't! I love you, and if I killed whatever you felt for me, I don't think I can make it, Thranduil!"
His chest hurt where Bard was pushing into the bones over his heart and his fingers were crushed as Bard sobbed into his lap.
It hurt, but Thranduil suddenly didn't care.
Bard could break every single bone in them, and the Elvenking wouldn't care, because finally, the walls he'd been hiding behind like a wounded animal, fell down in the face of all that Bard was saying, and by the agony and earnest emotion on his husband's face.
Before he knew it, he was off the chair, and kneeling on the rug, as they buried each other in a tight, warm, cocoon of arms, tears, kisses, and forgiveness. They stayed that way for a long, long time, holding each other and crying from relief.
"I l-love you s-so…" Bard tried to talk, but couldn't catch his breath, so Thranduil just held him and rubbed his back.
"I love you, too, Bard. I don't ever want you to be unhappy."
"No…" Bard said, as he panted. "I know w-what I said… I didn't m-mean it, love. I really didn't. This is all my f-fault… I don't know why I-I..." Bard hung on to him desperately, as he began to gasp and cry again.
"Please, Bard… Shhh... Do not cry. It will be all right…" Thranduil began to rock him.
"I h-hurt you. I'm s-sorry… I…" Bard's breathing became worse and he couldn't catch his breath.
"Shh..." Thranduil spoke softly, hoping to calm him down. "Just let me hold you, and breathe. We need to talk about this, but, first, you must calm yourself." The shoulder of his tunic was soaked with tears, and Bard bunched the fabric in his tunic and shook with sobs for what seemed like ages. Thranduil whispered comfort to him, and kept soothing him, until finally, his Bowman could take full, deep breaths again. For a long time, he just rested, with his head on Thranduil's shoulder, and concentrated on breathing normally.
At last, Bard lifted his head, and began to wipe his eyes on his sleeve. When Thranduil reached in his pocket to hand his handkerchief over, and despite his upset, Bard burst into laughter. When he got out another one to wipe his own face, they both did.
"How many of these damned things do you own?" Bard asked, with a raspy, hoarse voice.
Thranduil smiled through his own tears. "Galion thinks I give too many away; he has taken to putting one in every pocket."
"Oh, bless him." Bard wiped his face off. "We do need to talk about it - you're right. But I need some water first. My throat hurts, and I feel so…limp."
"Of course." He got up and brought Bard to his feet. "Come, and remove your boots." Thranduil settled him on the bed, before he fetched the food and drinks and sat beside him. They both drank a couple of glasses of water, before he'd let Bard have more wine.
"Do you feel more comfortable? Would you like something to eat?"
"I don't think I can eat right now; maybe later."
Thranduil held him, and ran his fingers ran through the thick, dark curls against his chest, as he rested his cheek on Bard's head. He waited in silence, to let Bard speak in his own time.
"It's been a whirlwind, and I've been running myself ragged to keep up," Bard began, quietly. "Knowing you and falling in love with is wonderful - don't ever doubt that. But it's all the rest of it, Thranduil! I was overwhelmed, and I just... lost my way..." Bard looked up at him. "I'm so sorry. I could say it a million times, and it wouldn't be enough."
"I understand, Bard; you've done well, and I am proud of you. I really am. You are the strongest person I know."
"I don't feel strong; I feel… unworthy, and... I don't know... buried alive, sometimes." Bard wiped his eyes again. "But don't ever, ever think you're a part of that burden. Please. I was wrong to let you think that, even for a second." His eyes began to fill, again. "I was horrible to you…"
Thranduil stroked his hair. "I could see the anguish in you; I could feel it. Please, tell me what to do, so I can help you."
"I wanted to be King; you didn't push me! You didn't! I want to help my people, and make Dale the best it can be. It's just... all so new; everything is so new, and there's nothing to be done about it, except keep on keeping on. It would be a hundred times harder, if I didn't have you, or Hilda and Percy, or Galion… But I would still do it, even if I was on my own. You believe me, don't you?"
"I do. I also know you cannot do it alone, Bard. No King can do it alone. I am always happy to support you, you know that."
Bard said nothing, but sighed.
Thranduil gave him a reassuring smile, then said, "I know Tilda's illness hurts us both. And there are times that telling ourselves to keep going does not help, does it?" Thranduil sighed. "It is agony to see our little girl so unwell, and I think there will be many moments when that struggle will be too much."
"I hate that you're right about that." Bard sighed, and leaned his head into Thranduil's shoulder.
Thranduil kissed his hair. "I also know that you have had your first experience at passing judgement as King. That will never be easy, Bard, but you were faced with a heartbreaking circumstance. You did well, but I could see it was haunting you, and I am sorry for it."
"It will haunt me, for a long time. That scene on the walkway was my fault…" Bard's voice began to wobble again.
"Why do you say this, Bard? You could not have known what would happen!"
"Because it's true, Thranduil. When I saw guards and all that blood, I knew I'd made a mistake and now someone's dead!"
"No, Bard…"
"Yes! I was the one who asked you to treat those two women with kindness and patience, didn't I? I had this…stupid, naive idea that we could somehow rehabilitate them. I asked you to give them the benefit of the doubt, and look what happened: she nearly killed two of your Guards, and one of them was your friend! I fucked up, Thranduil!"
"Bard, you could not have known what would happen! If anything, I should bear the blame, too. When she appeared calm and submissive in my office, I sensed it was false, but I said nothing! I should have alerted Dior of my suspicions, but I did not. Still Dior and Elion were careful, alert, and they always check for hidden weapons. Please, Meleth nîn; just as we must lay the guilt at Ioan's feet for the pain he inflicted on his daughters, so we must lay this blame at Iola's feet. She fooled us all, do you not understand that? She is the only one at fault."
"She would never have had a chance to even make that weapon, if I hadn't ordered them to back off-"
"Bard, stop this!" Thranduil shook him, gently. "Look at me!" He took Bard's face in his hands, and stared intensely into his eyes. "Regardless of what was done or not done, we were all deceived. It is not a matter of blame; you cannot do this to yourself! Are you not the one who says never to play 'what ifs?' Your father called it 'shoulding all over yourself?' You are a King, yes, but you are first a Man, and there will be times when the best you can possibly do will not be good enough. You must accept this!"
Bard struggled to consider this. "What do you do, when you make a mistake as King? Do you even make mistakes?"
"Yes, Bard, I do! Many times! Sometimes those errors cost lives, and that will always haunt me. It is part of the burden of Kingship, though I wish I could tell you it were not so.
"Bard, you are a strong man, and a strong King, because you strive to do what is right in all things. Yet you will make mistakes; sometimes small, sometimes huge and terrible. You will feel inadequate, weak, and unworthy, but you must never let that stop you from moving on and doing right by your people. Please, please, Meleth nîn. You must find a way to get past this, or you will destroy yourself, and all you love."
He felt a sigh, then heard his Bowman's tired voice. "You're right. Galion told me I expect too much of myself."
"He was right. He has always supported me, when I felt I was drowning, or when I felt guilt over a misjudgment. Now, we both are fortunate, because we have each other, and our family. We do not have to bear these burdens alone."
"I can't believe I took it all out on you! You want to know the worst part? After all those terrible things I said, it didn't even touch what was going on inside. Does that make sense?"
"It does. Perhaps you could not understand what you were really thinking or feeling until you flung it all out in front of you. I have done this, too, and should have seen that for what it was."
"But I wasn't just trying to figure things out, I was angry, and I was trying to hurt you, too! That's the truth of it…" Bard choked up. "I felt so bad, and I wanted to hurt anybody or anything in my path, until they were in as much pain as I was! You're the one person in this world I'd never want to hurt, and because I know you so well, I knew just what to say to rip you apart! It was like this… thing in me was choking me, trying to get out, no matter what the cost!" Bard swallowed, a few times, and had to wipe his eyes again. "You've never purposely set out to hurt somebody you love!"
"What makes you believe that?" Thranduil gave his Bowman an incredulous look. "Of course, I have! You are not the only person who has said and done unforgivable things, Bard!"
"What do you mean?"
Thranduil sighed, and rubbed his forehead. "I know I told you about Tauriel confronting me during the Battle, and of course you know she raised her weapon to me. But do you know the things I said to her? I treated my own daughter like she was insignificant! When I realized that Legolas had feelings for her, I told her that she was inferior, because she was Silvan, and not good enough for my son! I let her think I didn't care about her at all, because I was afraid my son would get hurt. Would you ever do that?
"When she was desperate for me to save the one she loved, and what did I do? I raised my own sword to her throat, and let her think I was ready to strike her down!" The Elf winced at the memory. "Bard, what you said and did was unfounded and meant to cause hurt. What you said was born from the things you feared most, but have you ever raised a weapon to your own child? Have you?"
Bard just looked at him in shock.
Thranduil swallowed. "I will play those scenes in my head over and over for the rest of my existence! I will never forget the look on my Tauriel's face when the point of my sword was at her jugular, or the angry..." his voice broke, "disgusted look on Legolas's face when he had to rescue her. Did any of your children fear for their lives around you? "
Bard still couldn't find anything to say.
"When I lost my temper with Ina about Rhys's bruises, when the woman cowered and raised her arms to protect herself, she had the same look of terror on her face as my own daughter did!"
"But that was—"
"No, Bard, it is not different! You and I must always struggle to forgive ourselves, do you not see? It is one thing to hate what you did; I understand that, but if you use your mistakes as an excuse to hate yourself, and punish yourself for the rest of your days, it will destroy any chance we have to be happy!"
He had to stop for a moment and collect himself, before said in a rough voice. "Meleth nîn, you cannot make the mistake of thinking you must be infallible! If we are going to have a successful marriage, we must understand that neither of us is perfect, and we have many flaws. Some are small, and some are glaring chasms in our character. But all we can do is our best, for ourselves and each other. The same is true for Kingship. Do your best, Bard, always, but when you make a mistake, you must forgive yourself; we must forgive each other. Always."
"You're right." Bard sighed and held him tighter. "Looks like we're both arseholes."
"We are." Was Thranduil's whispered response. 'Arseholes' with crowns."
"Speak for yourself. I haven't been crowned, yet."
Despite his smile, Thranduil had to ask, "Was there any truth in your words, about hating the way your body works now?"
Bard sighed. "Yes and no, and really, it's my own fault. I've been working hard with Feren to learn control and a new way of doing things. Yes, losing my archery skills was a huge blow, but Feren promises it will come back better than ever. Problem is, I'm too impatient; I want it now, and told myself I had to, because I have too much to do as a King. It eats at me, that I can't lead my people in battle, right now."
"Has Feren seen your frustration?"
Thranduil heard a laugh. "Trust me, Feren knows how fed up I get with it. But he's a good friend, and just lets me walk it off, then we get back to work. He wants me to stop pressuring myself, too."
"He is right. Why did you not tell me all this? I would have also encouraged you, I want to know about everything that upsets and frustrates you."
"Well, firstly, I was afraid you'd think I regretted marrying you, which, when you found out, that's exactly what you thought, and second…" Bard hesitated. "Don't laugh…"
"Why would I laugh?"
"I don't like the idea of you seeing me so… awkward. I like to impress you. It's stupid pride, I know, but I love the way you look at me when you're all turned on, and want to jump my bones, right then and there."
Thranduil laughed softly. "I suppose I would feel the same. So, we know that, of course, our daughter's illness is bearing down on you, and adjusting to Kingship and your new life, also weighs you down. We also know that you have unrealistic expectations for yourself, which you need to let go of. But, Bard, you have been especially anguished, since you've dealt with the sisters; I have seen it and it has worried me. Can you tell me what is so wrong? I think that is also a big reason behind your anger and upset."
Bard sat silent for a minute or two, then began. "Those sisters were sitting in front of me, and… it seemed so unfair. The Valar intervened for you and me, so we could be together; why didn't they intervene for them? I don't understand it, and I can't… I don't know how to accept it.
"It terrifies me, that good people live with such suffering their entire lives, and die just as hopeless. How am I supposed to have faith in anything, if that is true? Now, everything feels different, and I don't know what to do."
"Did you even know such situations existed before this?"
"Yes, and even when Alun told me, I didn't let it register. It was always one of those things that you push out of your mind, but yesterday, I was slammed into it, and it just..."
As Thranduil continued to stroke his hair, Bard's words continued to pour out of him.
"When I saw what happened this morning… something just… broke inside. I felt like I had caused it, and it pushed me to a place I don't even recognize. Facing the Dragon, and all those Orcs was easier, if you can believe it; it's easy to know who the enemy is. But here was Ina, who'd had all the happiness and faith in herself beaten out of her. Then Alwyn gave her a chance at happiness, but it, too, was taken away! Why didn't the Valar see fit to help her, when they've done so much to help us? Do they love us more than her?
"Iola was so much worse, because her own reality was a lie! She didn't have the ability to understand the truth, because she couldn't even tell what it was! What do I do with that? What can any of us do, Thranduil, if our worst enemy is ourselves? That scares me, down to my bones, because, I can't help but think, what if that happens to me? Or one of the children?"
"Oh, Meleth nîn…" He held Bard even closer, and kissed his head. "These are frightening things to contemplate."
"I feel helpless, in the worst way. I can never keep my children completely safe. I can never completely protect my people; I can't do it. I don't know how to get past how much that hurts."
"I am familiar with that feeling. We love that illusion, do we not? We tell ourselves we can fully protect ourselves, and those we love. Everyone has that lie in them, and everyone relies on it."
"How so?"
"Well, we cling to it, because it gives us courage to carry on, in the face of any danger. But there are days, when that lie is ripped from our eyes, and we are left feeling naked and trembling with fear."
Bard shook his head. "Any other day, I might not have blown up like I did."
"That is also true, Bard. We get triggered by things, often unexpectedly, and it is never easy, especially as Kings, although I wish it were not so."
Bard sighed again, and hugged him, a little tighter. "I must have felt like a stranger to you, in the Garden. I felt like a stranger to myself." He blew out a breath. "And Sigrid…"
"I know you feel terrible, but you were not completely wrong, Bard. She should not have left the Dining Hall. She ignored her guards, then her Auntie Hil, when she tried to call her back. She put herself in danger by doing so. When you told her to leave, she argued with you, her King, which she should never, ever do."
"Aye, your right, but I was already out of control, and that's on me."
"Yes, you were, but you will work it out with her. Hers was a misguided impulse to be sure, but her desire to be of help speaks to her excellent qualities. Sigrid will learn wisdom and temperance over time." Thranduil laughed. "Just like her fathers."
"When I saw her there, I just… "
"Ah. You do not like the idea of our children out in a dangerous world, either."
"Not today. I mean, I'll never be happy about it, but today, I needed to her away from that; I felt like I had caused it, and if Sigrid came anywhere near it…"
"Have you spoken with her, yet?"
"Galion promised he'd talk to her. I couldn't face her, or anyone, really. I felt like you and me…" Bard rubbed his chest. "I couldn't feel you, and I thought I broke us." He had to stop and take a breath.
"But you did not break us. We did not break us."
"We just hid from each other for a little while."
"You are right. I am good at putting up walls to protect myself." Thranduil kissed his hair. "One of my many flaws."
"Maybe I was hiding too, behind my guilt and fear."
Thranduil smiled. "And while we were hiding, it would seem Galion and Hilda formed a 'battle plan,' of sorts?"
He felt Bard chuckle against his chest. "Galion told me I needed time alone, to calm down and rest, and assured me I 'wouldn't be disturbed.'" He snorted.
"Hilda said the same, to me." Thranduil sighed. "I hate that she is always right! Even when she is wrong, she always ends up being right!"
"It's annoying; I admit. I've no doubt all this was Hilda's idea," Bard snickered, "but they saved us, love."
"I think so, too." Thranduil smiled, and kissed his hair. "I wish you could have seen those two, when I opened the door to leave, Bard."
"I heard her. There's no arguing with that tone of voice. Galion was there, too?"
"Oh, yes! She is a bad influence on him, but I think I like it."
"Galion told me about your Mam's temper."
"Oh?"
"Seems she didn't like being yelled at, either. I suppose I'm lucky you didn't try to break anything over my head."
Thranduil laughed. "I forgot about that story."
"He also said your parents adored each other."
"They did. They were wonderful parents." The Elf sighed. "I hope they have found their way back to each other. Just as I hope your parents are together again."
"Will our lives always be this tumultuous?" Bard wondered.
Thranduil chuckled as he stroked his husband's hair. "We are fathers, and we are Kings, Meleth nîn; it is hard to say which will cause more chaos. But, I do not think we will always have a difficult time with things. We have only been together for a brief time, and do not know one another very well, yet."
"I never thought about it that way, but it's true. I feel a part of you, but there's a lot about you I honestly don't know."
"We will learn more about each other and better ways to respond; I am sure of it."
Bard lifted his head up, and looked into his eyes. "I know we married fast, but don't ever think I regret it. I'll never be able to tell you how sorry I am, for making you think I did. I'd marry you and join with you again, a thousand times over. We belong to each other, Thranduil, and I'll never let anything come between us like that, again; I promise."
He looked down into Bard's face, and stroked his cheek with his knuckles. "Thank you, Meleth nîn."
Bard sighed, and settled into his chest. "I'm too tired to eat, but I think we should. I lost my breakfast over the railing, and I haven't eaten, since."
Thranduil sat up and grabbed the tray, and some napkins. "Then we shall eat, and then we will to try to rest."
They fed each other a decent meal, and then took off their clothes and crawled into bed, to wrap themselves around each other.
"I love you so much, Thranduil."
Thranduil held Bard's face in his hands, and looked into his lovely, warm hazel eyes. "Bard, I will never stop loving you. You are my forever, and I am yours."
Then he kissed him. It was deep and heartfelt. This was a kiss from the purest, deepest part of him, and when Bard responded in kind, their wounded and weary spirits began to heal.
They lay facing each other, holding hands between them, and looked into each other's eyes for a long time, until they finally closed, and they drifted off to sleep.