Chapter Twenty-Six
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SUMMARY: Bard and Thranduil time in 'captivity' is well-spent, and they learn new things about each other.
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The Woodland Realm; 19th of February, 2942 T.A.
Bard woke up that evening with a sigh of satisfaction. Since he'd come back to the Palace, he and Thranduil hadn't had a chance to sleep in the nude, and he loved how warm and cocooned he felt, wrapped in his Elf's arms. Humming softly, he snuggled in, for a moment or two more.
As he began to blink into awareness, he felt a little confused. This wasn't their bedroom. He automatically glanced to his left, where the door to the nursery –
—wasn't there. Bard blinked a few times. Thranduil was here; he had just shifted and moved his hand to rest in Bard's hair...
Then, in an instant, the memories of the last thirty hours crashed into him, and he grabbed his middle, and curled into a ball, as a wave of anxiety turned his insides into knots.
"Bard? Are you well?" The Elvenking's long arms reached for him and brought him back, against him. "What is it,?" His voice was rough with sleep.
Bard sunk into him, and brought his breathing back under control.
"Did you have a nightmare?"
"No. I just… woke up and remembered everything."
He felt several kisses in his hair. "All that matters, is that we are here, and we are better, Meleth nîn."
Bard draped his arm around Thranduil's middle, and listened to the sound of his heartbeat. "I made you stop believing in us."
"And yet, here we are."
"Thank Ulmo and all the Valar." Bard couldn't stop the tears that filled his eyes. "I love you so much."
Thranduil stretched, and roll over to face him. His pale face looked better, the swelling around his eyes was almost gone, and there was only a touch of redness. The dullness had left his eyes, had now sparkled a clear, grey-blue. His long, smooth fingers stroked through Bard's hair, before he leaned over to kiss him.
He thought he might never again taste those lips; or feel Thranduil's tongue seek entrance and explore his mouth. Bard couldn't stop himself from burying his fingers in his hair, and he whimpered as their kiss deepened. He felt Thranduil's hand on his back, then move down to his hip, then lift Bard's leg and drape it over him.
"I want you, Meleth nîn." He breathed.
Urgency and desire began to replace the worry, but suddenly Bard hesitated; he couldn't help it, and shame washed over him, again.
"What is it, Bard?"
"I…" his throat tightened. "I don't know if I can. I hurt you, and..."
Thranduil held Bard's face in his hands and wiped his tears with his thumbs. "We hurt each other, Bard. Yes, you lost control and said things you wish you could take back, but I did wrong, too. I should have had more faith in us, and I did not! I am ashamed, at how little it took for me to believe you did not love me. Do you not see that? We were both lost for a moment, but we found each other again. That is all that matters."
Bard swallowed, and rested his hand on Thranduil's cheek, and swallowed. "Are you sure?"
The Elf smiled at him, and kissed him again, and it was even better than the first one.
Bard moaned softly. "I admit, it feels good to be doing this in a real bed, and not a couch, or the floor, or a desk, or against a wall…"
Thranduil chuckled. "It does feel wonderful. I have missed the feel of all your skin, against mine." He kissed Bard with fervor, pushing his tongue past Bard's teeth, and soon they were exploring each other's mouths, as their hands explored each other's bodies.
They were hot, heavy, and hard, when a thought occurred to Bard, and he pulled back, "Um… Aren't we going to need…"
"You are right." Thranduil sat up and opened the drawer of the bedside table, and cursed. "Nothing. I'm sure there is something in the bath…" and made to get out of bed.
"Wait, hang on…" Bard looked in the table by his side of the bed, and pulled out the oil of lavender and several small towels.
Thranduil smiled. "Galion was optimistic."
"Maybe Hilda put it there."
Thranduil's eyes widened with horror. "Do not say that Bard! Do you honestly think I could puith you, if Hilda put it there? I doubt my gwîb could ever get hard again!"
"Gwîb?" Bard raised his eyebrows, and snickered. "Does that mean what I think it means?"
"It means exactly what you think it means, and you will never enjoy it again, if Hilda has put herself in charge of…that." The Elf shuddered.
"Ah. Wasn't Galion was considerate, then?"
"Yes, he was." Thranduil had a glint in his eye, and crawled toward him.
Before Bard knew it, Thranduil had him pinned underneath his body, kissing him.
Bard could feel the rush of desire pushed all other thoughts away. "Oh… fuck..." he moaned.
"You feel so good, Meleth nîn. You feel perfect." Thranduil kissed his way down to take one of Bard's nipples in his mouth, and bit it, causing him to gasp, and thrust his hips up, again.
"Please, love… I need you in me. Please…"
As Thranduil prepared him, Bard threw his head back and groaned, and he closed his eyes to feel everything…
"No, Bard. Please, Meleth nîn, I need you to look at me. I need to see your eyes, now."
He opened them, and there was the sea of grey-blue he loved so much. They were searching Bard's in earnest, looking for reassurance. Bard pulled Thranduil down and kissed him, hard.
When Thranduil began to enter him slowly, they both cried out. They were together; they were home. Thranduil began to slowly move in him, and they never took their eyes off each other, riveted to each other's gaze. Their eyes were joining them every bit as strongly as their bodies. Stronger, even. It is easy to find joy in aroused bodies, but they both needed the joy from their bond, from the soul they shared.
Thranduil went down on his elbows, and brought his face closer, as he thrust into him. "I need you, Bard…"
"I need you, too…" Bard panted.
"Please… Bard, I need you… please." There was a desperate tone in the Elf's voice. "Ni melig, Bard? Ni melithog n'uir?"
Bard didn't need to wonder what Thranduil had said. He saw the grey eyes change, and he could feel the painful wave from their near-parting wash over him.
"Please love me, Bard..." The Elf buried his face in Bard's neck and sobbed. "Please love me... I -"
He grabbed Thranduil's tearful face. "Look at me," he panted. "I love you. I want you to say it."
"I love you…" The Elf said, with heavy breaths.
"No, darling; tell me that I love you. 'You love me.' Say it!"
"You love me." Thranduil said and thrust in again.
"Say it again, love." Bard tightened his legs around him, and pulled him in tighter.
"You love me…"
"It's true, Thranduil. It's all there, in me. Do you see it?" Bard whispered, and their pace quickened. He ran his hands over Thranduil's chest. "I love you so much..."
"You love me."
"Yes, I do." His voice wavered as emotion washed over him. "I need you, love; you're part of me, and I can't... I love everything about you. Can you feel it?"
"Bard…" Thranduil sobbed, as the tears fell. "Oh, Meleth..."
"Your heart is safe with me. It will always be safe with me. Tell me you see it."
Thranduil couldn't stop the tears. "You love me."
Bard wiped Thranduil's eyes, and sunk his fingers in his long, icy hair, and brought their foreheads together. "Look at me, love. Tell me again. Say it, Thranduil. Say it until you know it in the deepest part of you, until you never doubt me, again. I love you so much."
"You love me… Oh, Bard…" Thranduil was crying softly. "You love me… please, do not ever stop… do not ever leave me…"
Bard reached for his own arousal, all the while keeping his eyes on that sea of grey blue. "Tell me," he panted. "Tell us. Tell us how much we love each other."
"You love me…" As Thranduil said it, the Bard could feel the fear and doubt begin to loosen from his heart, and Bard felt the peace return.
"You love me…"
Bard gasped as the first waves of his orgasm began to wash over him, "… You feel me, don't you? You… aaaah! Oh, stars… I love you, Thranduil…tell me you feel me…"
Thranduil's eyes were so dark there was hardly any blue left, and as he came inside Bard. "Ma! A, ma…" he sobbed from joy and relief. Then the Elf sank down and buried his face in his neck while Bard wrapped his arms and legs tight around him and cradled him tight, as he waited for his husband to stop trembling.
Later, they lay facing each other, not saying much. Thranduil had taken Bard's hand and placed over his heart, as if the physical touch would keep Bard from ever trying to escape again. "I feel you in here, Bard," he whispered softly.
"And you always will, I promise."
Thranduil squeezed his fingers tight, and pressed his hand into his chest even more, much like Bard himself had done earlier.
It hurt a little, but Bard was fine with that. If this was what it took to help Thranduil, he'd do it. He'd do anything to wash away the hurt he caused, in the garden. Or the agony in his eyes when he shrank from Bard's touch. Bard would let his Elf do anything and everything he had to.
He sighed, as he stroked Thranduil's face. "Oh, love… I've been so selfish, even now."
"How so, Bard?"
"I was so wrapped up in myself, I didn't see how badly everything affected you, too. Dior was your friend; he almost died, yet all you were thinking about was me!" Bard closed his eyes from the shame. "I acted like a complete and utter arse, and even then, even then, you tried to do the right thing by me, when you thought I didn't want to be with you anymore! And, after we made up, it was you that held me, wanted to help me, when you were dying inside; you were so hurt... I'm so sorry, love; if I need to say it a thousand times, I'll do it."
Thranduil didn't respond, and his eyes were still riveted to Bard's, but they spilled over with silent tears. His Elf didn't look away or say a word, but his eyes pleaded with Bard to never push him away, again, and Bard could feel Thranduil's heart beat faster, and the grip on his fingers squeezed even tighter. Bard understood something in that moment, something that his husband couldn't put into words, and it sliced his heart.
Thranduil Oropherion was a wise and powerful King.
He was among the best warriors in the entire history of Middle Earth.
He was strong enough to mete out death sentences when it was truly warranted, and had often done the deed, himself.
He could take on dozens of Orcs at a time, and dispense with every one of them, easily.
He negotiated treaties, healed many wounds, oversaw the working of his entire Palace and was responsible for hundreds of thousands of Elves, dispersed throughout his vast Kingdom.
He led the largest Elven Army on Middle Earth, and he and his people had fought the constant evil in his own land, for several millennia (and he did it without any special assistance from a Ring of Power, which garnered him a great deal of respect from those who secretly possessed them).
No one could be more courageous than the Elf lying beside him.
But here, in this bed, on this evening, this ancient, majestic creature was laid completely bare, in a way Bard had never seen before. He was utterly vulnerable, and now Bard could see and feel just how deeply this Elf feared losing Bard's love.
Bard knew then what would happen to Thranduil, if the terrible things Bard had said in the Garden had been true.
Mírelen's death had been devastating, and it had changed Thranduil forever, but at least he'd known his wife loved him, and hadn't left by choice. If Bard had truly rejected him - if he'd purposely left him alone, Thranduil would never survive it. He would, indeed, fade. And thanks to Bard's temper, and his thoughtless words, Thranduil will suffer the aftershocks of this, for a long time to come, much like he suffered nightmares of the Dragon.
"Oh, love…oh no…" It was Bard's turn to comfort him. "Come here." He gathered Thranduil to him, and whispered. "Tell me how I can help you. How can I help you feel better? I love you so much…"
So here, in this bed, on this evening, as the sun went down, and the stars began to emerge in the night sky, Thranduil found comfort and safety in Bard's arms, and his Bowman held him tight, until he stopped being afraid.
The bath in this guest suite was smaller than the Elvenking's pool, but it was big enough for two, if Bard held him against his chest and wrapped his legs around him, which was fine, because that's what he wanted to do anyway. They lay there and enjoyed the hot water, and when it cooled they filled it up again. It was wonderful to know they had hours ahead of them, and they didn't have to be anywhere or see anyone. They had this wonderful, languid time and space, to breathe, and be, think of nothing else but each other.
And they talked, and talked and talked. They talked as Bard washed his husband's body, and then his hair. They talked while they dried off and combed out each other's hair, while they ate a late supper, and after Bard put more wood on the fire, then crawled back in bed with Thranduil. They talked as they lay naked in each other's arms, just loving the feel of each other.
They shared stories of big events and trivial things: what they liked or didn't like, things they found sad, or funny, or joyful, or unbearable. Things they were happy and excited about, and things that terrified them. Things they hoped for themselves, and for their children, and grandchildren, and for their Kingdoms.
They spoke of Valinor, which interested Bard very much. Thranduil shared all the stories he knew about that place, and together they wondered what it will be like for them, when they sailed. Would they live in a forest? A city? Do the stars look different there?
Interspersed between conversation, laughter, tears and warm, intimate touches, they made love. And each time, Bard held his Elf after, and told him how much he loved him, how happy he was to be with him, and how he would never, ever let him go.
During all those hours, the fëa they shared was healed.
Because here, in this bed, on this evening, Bard and Thranduil were not fathers, nor were they Kings. They were not even a Man and an Elf. They were simply a newly-married couple, who fell in love with each other, all over again.
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The Woodland Realm; 20th of February, 2942, T.A..
Thranduil and Bard finally slept, in the early hours of the morning. When the Elvenking woke up, it was light again, and he felt a nest of wild, black hair against his shoulder, and a warm arm and leg draped over him. He was still tired, but now it was in a good way.
They'd been alone and protected from the outside world, and it had done him and his Bowman a world of good.
Thranduil sighed with pleasure. He liked to feel every inch of Bard, whether or not they were having sex; he loved the warmth of it. After so many years of pushing everyone away, including himself, he found he couldn't get close enough to Bard, and loved to touch him.
Bard mumbled and shifted a little, but he remained asleep, so Thranduil was careful not to move, to let him rest. He needed it. Thranduil felt yet another shock wave sweep over him, from the terrible scene in the garden, so he closed his eyes, and took several deep breaths and did his best to calm himself.
Their relationship was new, and after centuries of loneliness, it only made sense he'd react badly at the first hint of trouble. Still, he could never forget this, and that might not be a terrible thing; it was a good lesson to them both. Among the many other things, they talked about, they agreed that they must work harder to forgive themselves.
There was a knock at the door. Carefully, Thranduil disengaged himself from Bard, who mumbled, then rolled away to face the opposite wall. Thranduil tied his robe around his middle, and went to open the door.
On the ground was another tray of food and a steaming teapot. He laughed to himself and took the tray inside. Hilda and Galion meant what they said, about not coming out.
He sat at the table, made himself a plate and poured himself tea when Bard finally stirred.
"Morning, love." Bard was propped up on an elbow, and rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand.
"Good morning Meleth nîn. Come have breakfast."
Bard rolled out of bed and grabbed the robe he had found last night, after looking through the drawers. One for each of them had been placed there, along with complete sets of clothing.
After some morning ablutions and a brief wash, he joined the Elf at the small table in their chambers. "Smells good."
"It does. Our jailers are considerate."
"If this is prison, I'm all for an extended sentence. We need time like this, all to ourselves."
"I believe Galion and Hilda feel the same."
"We're lucky they love us, or we'd be in the dungeons." Bard grinned, as he buttered a scone. "How did you sleep?"
"How else would I sleep when I am with you? Although I admit, I would like another nap, before we rejoin the outside world." Thranduil smiled at his Bowman, who looked so beautiful with his long, wild black hair around his face and shoulders.
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Once they finished breakfast, they crawled back into bed again. "Do you feel better, Meleth nîn? Truly?"
"I really do." Bard sighed. "I think things are as settled as they're going to be, and I really just want to move on, don't you?"
"I agree."
Bard slid his hand between them and began to fondle him, with a smile. "I don't think we have to go back to sleep just yet, do you?"
"I agree." Thranduil smiled.
"You're especially agreeable, this morning."
"I agree."
They both laughed, as they kissed, and very soon, Bard was rolling Thranduil onto his stomach and entering him from behind in one slow stroke.
Within minutes, both were beyond words.
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Once they collapsed on the bed, Thranduil handed Bard a cup of water, which he took, gratefully.
"Planned ahead?" Bard handed the empty cup to him, with an eyebrow raised.
"Well, I did wake up first. I did not deserve a spanking, after looking after you so well."
"Oh, you deserved it, all right. The only Elven arse I want is yours." Bard kissed him. "Which by the way, is the finest arse I've ever seen, Man or Elf." He grabbed Thranduil and held their hips together.
"Yours is not so bad either, Bowman. But you are going to pay for that spanking, make no mistake."
"I look forward to it."
"Maybe you should not. I do have a reputation for ruthlessness." Thranduil grinned.
"Do your worst." Bard kissed his nose and stroked his hair. "I really do love you, you know."
Thranduil sighed, and smiled into Bard's lovely hazel eyes. "I really do know."
He put his head on Bard's shoulder and curled up against him, delighting in the sound of Bard's heartbeat, and the feel of work-roughened fingers threading through his hair, as they drifted off to sleep again.
The sound of the midday bell brought Thranduil awake, and he stirred and stretched, again. At last, the heavy weight of fatigue had left him, and he felt energized.
He sat up and shook Bard's arm. "Meleth nîn, it is time to get up, though I wish we could stay."
"Mmmmmmfh…" Bard didn't open his eyes.
Thranduil leaned over and kissed his eyes, his nose and finally his lips. Sleepy arms grabbed him, and suddenly he found himself on his back, with Bard straddling him, his face nestled in his neck.
"Don't wanna be King today." He mumbled, as he yanked the covers up around them again, settling in.
"I do not wish to, either, but Hilda gave us until noon."
"No, she didn't. She said she didn't want to see us until at least after lunch. She didn't say we had to come back, now." Bard whined, sleepily.
"Bard… I would love nothing more than to stay in this room for another week, but I do not wish for Hilda to get impatient and come and get us."
"Don't care."
"Very well. This is good, actually. When she barges in here and pulls the covers off, it is your bottom she will take a strap to."
"That's no fair; what about you?"
"I am pinned underneath you; a helpless victim."
Bard still did not move.
Thranduil chuckled. "Very well. It is your behind sticking up in the air, not mine. Stay as long as you like."
After a few minutes, Bard groaned loudly and moved. "You're such a bastard, when you're right."
They both sat up, and got dressed. After they finished off the rest of the food, they reluctantly made their way to the door.
Before they opened it, Bard stopped them, and took his hands and kissed them. "You love me, very much."
Thranduil grinned and kissed his brow. "And you love me, very much."
His Bowman sighed, "Let's go back to the world."
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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
puith - Fuck (Honest! I'm not making this one up)
gwîb - penis, cock (Nope. Didn't make that up, either; Tolkien name it.)
Ni melig, Bard? Ni melithog n'uir?- Do you love me, Bard? Will you love me for eternity?