Chapter Forty-Five
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SUMMARY: Meanwhile, an important meeting takes place between Hilda, Galion and the head of Royal Council, to determine how best to handle this crisis.
And how is Ermon, the Chief Healer coping with all this?
Gandalf responds to King Dain's urgent appeal for help, but not in the way he was hoping...
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The Woodland Realm, 15th April 2942 T.A. (Evening)
The children had decided to pile onto Tilda's bed to play cards, while Galion, Hilda and Daeron sat in the Living Room. They were concerned for Bard, of course, and were relieved to see a Messenger at the door to the Royal Chambers.
"A Raven has arrived, My Lord." He handed the paper to Galion.
The Aide opened it up. "It is from Commander Feren, written in Tengwar." After scanning it quickly, he motioned for them to step onto the balcony, so he could translate it for Hilda:
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"Regret to report Bard's condition still critical. Thranduil kept him alive, but at great risk to his own life. Both are in peril-outcome unknown. Dáin has taken steps to ensure safety here & urges tighter security there in WR. Will send word if any change. -Feren"
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"Ai! Û Nae!" Daeron cried. "Lord Thranduil is also in danger!"
"Oh, gods…" Hilda said, as her eyes opened wide. "Both of them? They both could die? What happened?" She suddenly went pale, and Galion grabbed her arm, as he and Daeron helped her back into the living room. They continued to speak in low tones, so as not to alert the children.
Daeron poured Hilda a glass of water and checked her pulse. "Deep breaths, My Lady… that's it. I believe Feren wrote this in Elvish so the children would not see it."
"I agree."
"But what do we tell the children?" Hilda demanded.
"First, we must tell the Council." The Aide said. "We cannot do anything without their instructions, Hilda."
"I will arrange for that," Daeron told Galion. "Please sit with Lady Hilda."
The Guard opened the door to the hall, and saw Ruvyn was on duty.
"Send for the head of the Council immediately," he ordered. "Tell Lady Emëldir we will meet with her in the King's office in a few minutes."
Ruvyn saluted, and quickly left on his errand.
Galion stood up, and forced himself to appear calm, then went into Tilda's room, to speak with the children.
"Auntie Hil and I need to step over to your Ada's office for a few minutes. Can you behave for Daeron, while he is in charge here?"
The boys shrugged and nodded their heads, but the girls were curious. "Is this about Da's leg?" Sigrid asked. "Is something wrong?"
Ah; naturally, Sigrid would suspect something. What to say, without lying?
"There is a Council member we need to meet with." He finally said. "We will return shorty."
The young girl looked at him steadily for a few minutes, then seemed to be satisfied with his response. She looked back down at her cards and said, "Til, it's your turn. Here; let me help you…"
Galion heaved a sigh to himself, and took Hilda across the Hall.
Lady Emëldir, the Head of the Royal Council of the Woodland Realm, was a tall Elleth with long black hair, and deep blue eyes full of wisdom and determination. She had grown up with Galion, and they played together as children. She'd also been close to King Oropher and Queen Lindorië, and under his rule, she had emerged as an intelligent administrator, and talented politician. Very little got past her, and she was not someone to cross lightly.
This Elleth demanded excellence from everyone around her, yet she was fair-minded, with keen insight. For many years, as she walked the halls and walkways of the Palace, everyone bowed and stepped out of her way, because her people knew how hard she worked to keep the Woodland Realm prosperous and safe.
When Thranduil first returned from the War of the Last Alliance, he struggled mightily with Emëldir at Council meetings, while he learned the intricacies of 'Kinging.' She had caused the young, inexperienced King numerous headaches, until he eventually understood that she was only working to his benefit. Emëldir demanded that he earn the Council's respect, and it was through this period of struggle, that he learned how to be a canny and effective ruler. Thranduil eventually came to admire the qualities he'd once hated in her, and even began to emulate some of her tactics. For several millennia, he trusted her to keep the Kingdom running, when he was absent from the Palace.
Moments after she was sent for, Emëldir was seated in the overstuffed chair in Thranduil's office, looking at the message from Feren, as Galion and Hilda explained things in detail.
"It pains me to agree with Lord Thranduil's actions, but I am afraid I do." The Councilwoman nodded. "The Northern Kingdoms must be kept intact; Lord Bard must be saved, at all cost." She sighed. "We must also be ready with a plan of action, should the worst happen. I believe a provision for this event was spelled out in the formal agreements, when the Alliance of the North was made, last December. Do you have this document handy, Lord Galion?"
"I do, My Lady." The Aide had anticipated this, and handed her Thranduil's copy of the Treaty. "The section you are speaking of, is on the twelfth page, paragraph four."
Emëldir took a minute or two to read the document, then nodded her head. "Thankfully we have a solid plan to put into place, and the Woodland Realm has a good chance of surviving with minimal damage. Prince Legolas will take his place of course, but we have been running this Kingdom with efficiency for thousands of years, so there will be a minimum of disruption.
"Dale, however, is a new Kingdom, and will be most vulnerable, especially with no Army of its own, yet. Should Bard die, the Woodland Realm will continue to protect the City, and King Daín and Lord Legolas will act as Co-Regents for Lord Bain, until he is of age." She read a few paragraphs quietly to herself. "Luckily, the language in this agreement is very specific as to who will control different aspects of the Regency. This will go far to prevent conflict between our countries." She looked at Galion. "I am assuming this is due to your diligence?"
"Master Balin contributed a great deal, as well, My Lady." Galion bowed his head. "I have also made sure Lord Thranduil and Lord Bard prepared their wills, with clear provisions for all the children."
She gave the Aide a grim smile. "You are to be commended for that, though I pray we never have to use it."
"Thank you."
"Commander Feren," the Councilor continued, "will continue to develop the Army in Dale, and annex the surrounding lands, such as Esgaroth, and other villages near the City." She turned to Galion. "You, of course must retain your position as Aide, and you will continue to work with Lord Percy and Lady Hilda, as they continue in their duties. Your knowledge and skill are vital to the stability of the North, Mellon nîn. There is little you do not know about running a Kingdom, and you have a great deal of knowledge of Dale's history. They will need your expertise and experience there."
The Chief Aide bowed his head. "I am yours to command."
"How can you say these things?" Hilda became impatient at this morbid talk. "They're both still alive, yet you're planning as if they're already dead!"
Galion held his breath, hoping their wouldn't be an explosion from either one of the ladies. If ever there was a match for the Hilda, Seneschal of Dale, it would be found in Lady Emëldir. The two were a great deal alike in their talent for organization, their knack for leadership, and refusal to suffer foolishness.
Thankfully, instead of a personality clash, the Councilor looked upon Hilda with respect, understanding and patience.
"Lady Hilda, I know you are upset and frightened, as are we all, but do you not think our Kings would want us to ensure the safety of those they love?" she asked gently. "Please believe me; I do not enjoy discussing these matters, but we must make sure their hopes their hard work will not be lost. Whatever happens, they will rest easier knowing we have things in hand."
Hilda stared at the Elleth, and after a few moments, her shoulders relaxed, and she nodded her head. "No, you're right, My Lady. I guess all we can do is hope for the best, and prepare for the worst." Her voice wavered as she spoke, and Galion reached over to grasp her hand.
"We will all do this, Mellon nîn." He assured her.
"I understand, and I share your worry," Emëldir told her, "but my first responsibility is for the safety of the Kingdom, and the North. With two of its Kings in peril, we will be especially vulnerable to invaders. You, My Lady," She smiled, gently. "are right to place your concerns with the children. The Prince and Princesses look to you for support and guidance, and that, too, is a heavy responsibility. They are vital to our legacy."
"Thank you." Hilda nodded. "But, you're right; our boys would be angry if they knew we'd let things slide."
"Should we make an announcement of some sort?" Galion asked.
"I do not think it would be wise, just yet."
"Don't they deserve the right to pray for Bard and Thranduil?" Hilda asked.
"They do, of course; our people love their Kings very much. But until security measures are put into place, news like this could make us vulnerable to invaders, and could cost lives. King Dáin was right to tell us to secure our borders. I worry about the small villages on the outskirts in our forest. We always watch them carefully of course, but historically speaking, these good folk are the first to be attacked. This has also happened in Old Dale, years before Girion's grandfather was even born."
"I never thought of that, but it would make sense." Hilda agreed.
The Elleth gave her a sad smile, and looked at Daeron. "As it stands now, I am going to double the guards at our borders, and the guard of the villages. I will also issue orders to Commander Feren to do the same at Dale, although I am sure he and Dáin have already done so. We need to increase the Guard on the road to Dale as well, and scour the surrounding areas for enemies."
Everyone nodded in agreement.
"Until all those things are in place, I must order you both to say nothing, not even to the children. I believe our people have the right to know, but not at the risk of innocent lives."
"What about after?" Hilda asked.
"Once we are secure, we all can share in the joy or grief together." Emëldir sighed, sadly. "If it is grievous news, we will all need each other, to get through it."
Hilda was touched by the look on the Councilor's face and reached out and took her hand. "We few can lean on each other, now. I've learned something important from you, My Lady, and I hope to use your example in my duties to my Kingdom."
"Whatever happens, My Lady, Dale will greatly benefit from your service." Emëldir smiled. "We will pray for the Kings we love, and hope Eru and the Valar will keep them with us."
"We will." Hilda gave her hand a little squeeze.
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When the meeting was over, Galion and Hilda threw their shoulders back, prayed for strength and went back to the children. They were determined to keep things as normal as possible, and to protect them from worry, until there was a definite reason to upset any of them, especially Tilda, whose heart still wasn't quite as strong as it should be. Although neither one admitted it, they both were relieved; saying all those words out loud to the children would make it seem real and permanent, and they simply weren't ready to do that, and still be strong.
Sigrid wasn't suspicious when Daeron ate supper with them – that was nothing out of the ordinary. She did notice his extra consideration toward Auntie Hil, though, and how he made sure Galion's teacup was filled, and they both were comfortable.
Something was different, but Sigrid unconsciously wrapped herself in denial for as long as she could, and pretended everything was fine. She, too, was afraid and didn't want to admit it.
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City of Dale, 16th April 2942 T.A. (Early hours of the morning)
In Percy's room, Tauriel tried to get some sleep, but her worries kept her tossing and turning, until she couldn't stand it anymore, and sat up with her stomach clenched with anxiety. She was still bone-weary, but couldn't face all this alone in the dark, so she got up and pulled her clothes back on, before going out into the corridor to check on her Ada and Bard.
Her first stop was to the Royal Bedchamber, where she found Bard still struggling to stay alive.
Ever since Thranduil had been carried away to Tauriel's room, the hand of at least one Healer was constantly on Bard's chest to encourage his heart and lungs to function, they told her.
"It was a good thing they did," Percy added. "Just about an hour ago, Thangon jumped up and started whining, about the same time they felt Bard's heart act up again. Thank the Stars they got it to settle down again, and made him take in some nice deep breaths."
"Oh, Valar…" She whispered, and sat down beside him. "Have you gotten any rest?"
Percy shook his head, and wouldn't let go of Bard's hand. "My place is with him, until I know he'll be all right." The man looked exhausted, but determined. "I can't…"
She put her hand on his arm. "I know, Mellon nîn. If sheer force of our will could save them, they would both be up and around, my now."
Percy swallowed, as his throat tightened. "Aye. Long ago, I promised Bard's Da I'd look after the boy, and I'm not going to let either one of them down."
Tauriel saw Thangon, over by the fireplace, and took pity on him, as he continued to stare at his master, hoping for some sign of encouragement. "Tulë, Thangon." She went to him and grabbed him by the collar, and pulled him to stand. "I promise we will return soon, but you must go outside for a bit." The dog didn't object much to leaving Bard, thankfully, but once he had done his business outside, he was anxious to get back, where he positioned himself next to Percy, and put his head in the man's lap.
Tauriel squeezed Percy's shoulder. "I'm going to sit with Ada."
"That'll be good; he needs you, love. I'll be here."
When she entered her room, the Elves told her Feren had finally went to try and get some rest, so she sat down and picked up Thranduil's hand and held the icy cold fingers to her lips.
"Please, Ada…" she begged him, through her tears. "Please do not leave us. She began to cry. "I cannot lose you… I am so frightened of being alone again…" She laid her head on the mattress and sobbed out all she could think of to persuade her foster-father to stay with her. "I've just gotten you back; we've just become a true family, and you cannot take that away from me… I love you, Ada…"
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Ermon, the Chief Healer of the Woodland Realm knew he needed to rest, but after a only a few hours, found himself awake again. He was still exhausted, but he decided to get up for a short time and check on his patients, before going back to sleep.
Ermon had overseen the physical welfare of his people, since Oropher was King, and spent many years training in Imladris, under the great Lord Elrond himself. He'd presided over Thranduil's birth, and served in the War of the Last Alliance, assisting Elrond in treating the new King's severe burns after the Dragon was killed. He'd brought Legolas into the world, and had tearfully prepared Queen Mírelen's body for burial.
After thousands of years in this profession, Ermon had been witness to more tragedy than anyone should be asked to bear, but he was fortunate to have his wife, Elénaril. Over the last several months, long letters passed between them, and it helped each of them bear the burdens of their calling. But what could he say to his wife about this calamity? He loved King Thranduil, and had grown quite fond of Lord Bard in the short time he'd known him. Finally, finally his King was happy again, and his long depression had lifted, and now...
He desperately wished she were here, not in Elénaril's capacity as a Healer, but simply as someone who loved him and would comfort him. To put her arms around him and hold him tight, make him feel like he could make all this better.
After checking on Bard, and listening to reports on his condition, the Chief Healer then went to Thranduil's room. He wasn't surprised to see Tauriel there, fast asleep with her head on the mattress, and clutching Thranduil's hand to her tear-stained cheeks. He rubbed her back, to wake her gently and urge her back to bed, but she only whimpered and gripped the Elvenking's hand tighter. Ermon sighed, took an extra blanket and put it around her shoulders, and stroked her hair. "Posto hí, Gwinïg."
With a sad sigh, he went back to try to rest. When he finally drifted off to sleep, his pillow was wet with tears.
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Dáin didn't sleep at all that night. He took turns sitting the with Kings, paced in Bard's study or sat at the table and stared into his mug of ale. Alun had brought in a platter of food, so he made up some plates and took them to Percy and Tauriel and made them eat.
The Dwarf took notice of the giant dog by the fireplace, and noticed his food and water dish hadn't been touched. He bent down and stroked his big head and Thangon looked up at him with beseeching eyes, and whined.
"I'm sorry lad," Dáin told him. "We don' ken anythin' yet, but ye did good by yer master. Any hope he's got is because ye knocked 'im out o' the way. No' ye've got te eat summat, ye hear me?" Thangon looked at Dáin thoughtfully, whined again, and put his head back down.
The King Under the Mountain stood up, sighed and shook his head. His message should have gotten to the Gandalf hours ago, and he was more and more convinced that, without some sort of divine intervention, they both would die.
"Blast it!" Dáin spat, as he walked down the corridor. "Where in Mordor is tha' feckin' Wizard when ye need 'im?"
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Bard blinked several times, and his eyes slowly focused on the stars shining in the clear summer sky.
But it wasn't the summer sky; it was the ceiling in Thranduil's bedchamber.
Still, the stars looked beautiful, and he smiled as he watched them sparkle for a while. They were shining especially bright tonight; like real stars…
But they were real stars.
How could real stars be on the ceiling?
Bard sat up, yawned, and stretched his out his arms, before he ran his fingers through his hair. He looked to his right –
Thranduil's side of the bed hadn't been slept in. He threw the covers back to get out of bed, and reached for his green robe, but it wasn't there either. He always kept it on the chair by the bed. Bard looked down at the white silk nightgown he was wearing. It was soft and comfortable and very well made. It could be a gift from Thranduil, but he didn't remember it. He'd never worn a long gown like this for sleeping…
Puzzled, he got out of bed to peek into the nursery, but there was no one there, either. Tilda's bed was neatly made, and her stuffed toys were sitting against the pillows – well, her stuffed Elk and her Elf-doll was. Charlotte was with his Little Bean, wherever she was.
"Thranduil?" he called out. "Galion?"
Bard went into the front of the apartment, but no one could be found. The furniture was still there, the cups and decanters of water and wine were sitting on the sideboard as usual, and the arrangement of evergreens and branches was decorating the dining table, as always, when not use. The fireplace wasn't lit, but there was a neat stack of wood in the basket and all the small framed pictures were smiling at him from the mantle.
"Sigrid? Bain? Tilda?" he called again, as he walked into the children's rooms. "Where are you? Children?" Nothing. Again, beds neatly made, but their dressers and were still full of their personal items.
"Where is everybody?" He growled in frustration, as he took a look around.
He knew guards were always present in the wide Hall; maybe they would know where his family went…
Still barefoot, Bard went to the front door and opened it –
"Hello, Bard! I've been waiting for you to wake up!"
"Gandalf? What are you doing here?"
The Wizard raised his bushy eyebrows. "Are you not glad to see me? I was told I was needed, so here I am."
"Who told you that?"
"The King Under the Mountain, asked for my help."
"Dáin? But why?"
"I'd like to speak with you, if I might." The Wizard smiled at him, patiently.
"I'll talk about anything you want, just as soon as I know where my children are. Have you seen them? Or Thranduil?"
"Bard," Gandalf said gently. "Can you tell me what you hear?"
He stopped and listened, and the only sounds he could hear, were the echoes of their voices in the long, empty hallway. Where were the guards? Where were the noises that usually came from the entrance to the Royal Wing? There was always a low hum of chatter and activity here, and it was gone.
"Bard," Gandalf said again. "I'd like to speak with you. It's important."
Everything was so…bright…and clean…and new… So…
… otherworldly.
"Where am I?" Bard asked, as his stomach fluttered. "This is the Palace, but something's not right…"
"I thought you'd like this. You've said you feel at home here; it's the nicest place you've ever been. You especially love the hot baths, don't you?"
"Why are you here?" Bard whispered.
Gandalf just looked at him, with a serene smile on his face. "What is the last thing you remember?"
"I was in Dale…" He said, in a thin voice.
"Yes, you were, Bard. Can you tell me more?"
"Thangon was barking at me." He ran his hand over his face. "Tauriel screamed, and then…" He looked down at his left leg. "But it feels fine…"
"Nothing hurts now, Bard." The Wizard said, softly. "You are beyond pain, beyond sorrow."
Oh, bloody fuck…
"Gandalf?" A wave of trepidation swept over him.
"Yes?"
"I'm dead, aren't I?"
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ELVISH TRANSLATIONS:
Nae; û! – Alas, it cannot be!
Posto hí, Gwinïg – Rest here, Little Fingers (Galion's pet name for Tauriel when she was a child)