Chapter Forty-Eight

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SUMMARY: Thranduil's visit with his beloved wife continues...

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"I am ready." Thranduil told Mírelen. "I am ready to come with you, now."

She tilted her head, always smiling, and pointed to the path ahead of them.

"Do you want to come with me, Thranduil?"

He stopped to looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean?"

Mírelen didn't say anything, but walked away from him, then turned, holding her hands together patiently. "You must go where your heart tells you, Tond Âr Nîn."

He was surprised by her words, but he found himself yearning to stay with her, in this beautiful, sunny place, with the flowers and the birds and the fresh smell of the wind through the trees... It was so wonderful! His Mírelen was here with him, and she was as beautiful and strong and kind as she had always been.

He had ached to be with her for centuries, and here she was! Her cheeks felt smooth, her hands were soft, and her raven hair shone brightly in the sun. He'd missed the soft curves of her body, and the dark, velvet pools of her eyes. He'd missed the sound of her laugh, the sight of her smile... How many centuries had he ached for what was standing in front of him right now?

He could stay with her, and Bard would still go on, for his children, for his people, and for Dale. He also knew that Bard would find a way to be happy again, somehow, but the important thing was that Bard would live! He had done it! The children would not be left alone, and his beautiful Bard would go on to be a wonderful King.

Bard. His Bard. He felt a rush of joy, just thinking of him: his tall, beautiful Bowman, with eyes the colors of his favorite tree…

Thranduil turned away from his wife, to gaze upon that very same tree was just ahead. As he approached the branches waved a friendly greeting to him. He grinned, and put his hand on its trunk, and thought more about man who had captured his attention, then his heart.

Bard had been so… unexpected, and brought love, laughter, joy, and ecstasy back into his life, and he was grateful.

He loved him. He always would.

Then the Elvenking turned around and his eyes swept over the dark-haired beauty before him. Mírelen's face was smooth and peaceful, and her mouth curved upwards in a serene smile. Here, Thranduil would find true solace and rest, after such an ancient life on Middle Earth. Here, his face was truly healed, and there was no lingering pain that underlined his daily life.

He could go back to a life that held joys for him now, knowing happiness fragile is a fragile thing, and could turn into tragedy in a matter of seconds. And had he not suffered the horrible burden of being left behind, to mourn so many loved ones? Was he truly ready to face all that? His life on Middle Earth was full of burdens, and more often then not, those years had been painful.

Could he go through a War again? Could he face the fears, the death, the destruction?

Was he ready to stand at the graves of Sigrid, or Bain? Or his precious Tithen Pen? They would leave him behind. Could he knowingly face that pain?

He could stay here with her, and enjoy a life filled with sunshine, and trees, and clean air and beautiful flowers. There would be no strife or conflict, no enemies; just… peace. He could choose this, he would enjoy it, and be content.

But, what about Tauriel? And Legolas? If Thranduil went with Mírelen now, there would be no chance to heal the wounds between him and son. His wife wanted that for the both of them; he wanted it for himself.

Could he live with himself, if he abandoned his Kingdom and left his people leaderless? Could he face his father in Valinor, and tell him how he turned away from his duty? No. He would not, because Thranduil Oropherion was his father's son, and it wasn't Oropher's disappointment he feared; it was disappointment in himself.

And then there was Mírelen to consider: he loved her, very much. But hadn't he recently come to understand how that had changed? He didn't love her with the passion and urgency that he once did. When he looked at her now, she represented rest, a release, solace and comfort. Those were not bad things at all, and he really could find contentment with her…

But a life with Bard… Thranduil his heart swelled at the thought of all that could be: full of passion, of pain, of urgency, of arduous work, of fullness, of children, grandchildren, setbacks, surprises and joy.

… and a deep and possessive love that could only be found in the arms of his strong, kind, funny, Bowman, who looked wild and savage when he woke up in the morning, and feral and utterly beautiful, when their bodies were joined, bringing each other to completion.

It was Bard.

For Thranduil, it will always be Bard. No matter what happened, no matter where his life took him, there could be no other, and he didn't want to miss a minute of a life at his Bowman's side, however brief that life might be.

And he knew in that moment, he wanted to go home.

Thranduil let out a sigh of relief; there was no decision to make, really. He knew where he belonged, and when he turned and saw Mírelen's face, he realized she also knew it. She had known it all along, and was happy for him.

He grasped both of her hands, kissed them, and held them to his chest, as he looked into her eyes.

"Are you truly happy, Mírelen?" he asked her, urgently. "Is there joy in your life, now?"

"Fear not for me, Thranduil. I am very happy, and I have a wonderful life." She reached up, and stroked his hair around his face. "I am so proud of you, Meleth nîn. You saved our son, and you serve our people with honor and courage. You are tender and loving to Bard and your new children, and it brings me much joy to see you in bliss, again." When she caressed his cheek, he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. "You have everything I could possibly wish for you, Meleth nîn."

He gazed into the dark pools of her eyes, and lost himself, one last time. "I will always love you, Mírelen."

"And I you, Tond Âr Nîn. You were the best of husbands, Thranduil; you loved me well, as I did you, for many years. I treasure each memory with you and our son, but be at peace; your destiny now lies with the one who fully has your heart now, and I wish you joy."

Thranduil took her face in his hands, then slowly bent his head and kissed her. Her lips were soft and warm, the way he remembered them, she felt wonderful in his arms, inhaled he breathed in the scent he had missed so much. As he lifted his head and smiled at her, he felt completely sure that their time was over.

"I love him, Mírelen." He told her, and it felt good to say it. "I love him more than I ever thought possible."

"Of course, you do, Thranduil," she smiled widely at him, "You've always loved with your whole heart. Treasure your Bard, with my blessing."

She became serious for a moment. "Thranduil, I must tell you something important about our son…"

"Yes?" His stomach tightened. "What is it?"

"As I have said, the Great War is coming, our son has a vital task in this, although I do not know what it will be. When the time comes, you must allow him to go where his heart leads, and not try to stop him. Please; you must remember my words, and let him go, or all will be lost. I say this, because Legolas will face great peril, Thranduil, and he may not survive it. You must be ready to send him, even if it to his own death."

"Could I not go in his stead? I cannot send our son to die…"

"I understand, Meleth nîn, and I know you are afraid, but you will be faced with perilous tasks of your own, and you must not to lose yourself in worry over Legolas. You must use all your focus to look after our people, and the forest. When Legolas asks to leave, Thranduil, you must support and encourage our son, as he faces his own doom, whatever that may be."

After a sigh, Thranduil agreed. "I will do as you ask; I promise. For Middle Earth's sake; not my own. I would have him with me."

"I know this, Meleth nîn. Before he leaves you, tell Legolas this: I will send love and light, to help you both. Look to the stars and think of me, and I will bring you and Legolas comfort."

"I will," he promised. "So much has changed in my life, since you left…" he shook his head in wonder.

"And more changes are coming, Tond Âr Nîn. You were wise to wonder at the blessing of Eärendil; the Valar will be sending help for this War, in ways you least expect."

"How?"

She shook her head. "You will find out when the time is right. Bard has a role to play in this War, as well. He is no longer fully a Man, and he will use this to save his people, when the time comes."

"Do you know how?"

"I do not. But you must encourage him to look for signs, and he will know."

Then she added, "Thranduil, be sure to give Tauriel your support. This has been especially frightening for her."

Thranduil's heart wrenched. This was another reason to go back, and he was glad of it. "I want to make up to her for all those years."

"She will be in fragile state for some time to come, so treat her with care, Meleth nîn."

"Can I tell her about you?" he asked. "Would that be permitted?"

"It is, and it will help her a great deal. Tell her she is very much loved, and her birth parents, Neldor and Solana, watch over her, as do I."

Then she reached up to embrace him, and they held each other for several moments.

"I have loved this time with you, Thranduil."

"And I have loved seeing you again." He whispered into her hair. "Thank you, for everything."

"It is time." Mírelen stepped back, and pointed further down the path. "When you and your Bard reach the White Shores, I will be there to welcome you." She gave him one last, brilliant smile. "Go now Meleth nîn; your Bowman awaits you."

After giving Mírelen a last, loving look, he turned to face the path from whence they came, to begin his journey. At first, he walked, but his eagerness to be with his Bowman became too much, and he began to run, with joy filling his heart.

He was running back to his life.

Back to his Bard.

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The City of Dale; 20th of April 2942 T.A.

Feren was bathing Thranduil's face with the Athelas water, and singing to him, when he noticed a slight change in the Elvenking's breathing pattern.

"Thranduil?" He asked anxiously, as he took his hand, and waited. "Mellon nîn?"

Alun was sitting with Bard, feeding him some broth. He dipped the hollow reed into the cup, and when the straw was put to his lips, his finger lifted on the top, putting the drops into his mouth. "What's wrong?" the man asked. "Oh, gods… is he…"

"No. I think he is waking up." The Commander told him.

Alun was on his feet in an instant. "I'll fetch the others." Then he rushed out and ran down the corridor.

Feren put his hand on his friend's chest and watched him closely. "Thranduil? Can you hear me?" he asked. Yes. He was definitely taking more air into his lungs with each breath.

The Chief Healer came rushing in, followed by Percy.

Ermon quickly went to the other side of the bed, and lifted Thranduil's hand. "He is not as cold, and his flesh appears solid. I believe you are correct Feren, but we must very cautious and not hurry this process," he warned them. "I have never seen an Elf lose so much and live, so I want him to take all the time he needs, to wake."

"Gûr nîn be hen." Feren agreed. "Can I still talk to him?"

"You can, but very softly, and use gentle, encouraging words only."

Tauriel came rushing in. "What happened?" She ran to the side of her Ada's bed, and took his hand.

The Dwarves had made her go out and get something to eat, and Bofur and Dwalin insisted she walk them, to get some air and exercise. When the Elven guard found them, she ran back to the Great Hall as fast as she could, with the Dwarves close behind. Dáin was waiting anxiously by the door.

"Is he…"

Feren grinned. "He is beginning to wake up, Gwinïg."

She ran to stand by the Commander. "Ada, it is Tauriel and I love you. Please… come back to us. Bard is here, and I know you want to see him." She smiled, as a tear fell.

For several minutes, Feren held Thranduil's hand and whispered to his friend, as Tauriel lovingly stroked his brow, as they waited for him to finish his journey back.

"He squeezed my hand!" Feren cried. "Thranduil… it is Feren, Lord Percy is here, Bard is here, and we all need you to come back to us. Can you wake up?"

"Ada, can you hear me?" Tauriel whispered. "I am here…"

They watched as Thranduil slowly blinked awake, and his eyes begin to focus on the ceiling above him.

"Thranduil?" Feren said, again. "You are going to be fine. We are all here and," his voice wavered, "we are so very happy to see you open your eyes." The Commander swallowed hard, as his throat tightened. "You need to take your time, Mellon nîn. Can you hear me?"

The Elvenking slowly turned his head toward the Commander.

"Wh…?" Thranduil, whispered roughly, looking at him. "Bard…"

Ermon stepped up so Thranduil could see him. "Welcome back, Aran nîn. Can you tell me how you feel?"

"I am…" he croaked. "Bard?" His eyes widened with worry. "Wh…"

"Turn your head in the other direction, My Lord, and you will see him yourself." He squeezed Thranduil's hand, and gestured to his left.

Thranduil turned his head, slowly and blinked several times. Finally, his eyes focused, and there was his husband. Bard was on a narrow bed by the fire, covered with blankets up to his neck.

"Is he?" He managed to say.

Feren sat on the side of Thranduil's bed, and took the Elvenking's hand in both of his, as he said, "Thranduil, you did it. You saved him. You got to him in time. Do you understand me?

"He will… live?"

The Chief Healer said, "My Lord, there has been no sign of infection, and his fever has been minimal. He is in a Healing Sleep, but I believe he will recover, thanks to you."

The Commander stroked his King's brow and smiled, and said again. "You saved him. You got to him in time. Do you understand what I am telling you? You did it! You got to him in time to save him."

"So… it was all true…" And Thranduil began to weep with relief. "She said he would live."

Feren didn't understand what his best friend was talking about, but he didn't care. He lowered his head, and shed a few tears of his own.

Tauriel held her Ada's hand to her cheek and also wept with joy and relief.

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Thranduil couldn't take his eyes off Bard. As he listened to Feren's words, he couldn't stop the tears. It was all too much; the accident, the fear, then… Mírelen.

He remembered seeing her, and all that she said came rushing back to him, and his heart swelled at the memory of all she had done to help him, and how happy she was for him... Thranduil swallowed several times, not able to speak, and sent up a silent prayer. Thank you, he told Mírelen, knowing, somehow, she could hear him. Bard will live, which meant Thranduil would also live…

And the children… she urged him to look after Tauriel…

He looked around weakly. "Tauriel?"

She appeared before him, her face wet with tears, and squeezed his hand. "I am here." She smiled.

He slowly lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. "I love you, Gwinïg. My daughter…"

She burst into tears. "Oh, Ada…" She leaned over him and hugged him. "I love you, too. I was s-so afraid you would leave me…"

"I… am here." He whispered. "I will never leave you, Iellig. I love you..."

He wanted to tell her all the Mírelen had told him about her, but that would have to wait until they were in private, and he was stronger.

He was so tired…

"Would you like something to eat?" Feren asked him, "Or some water?"

An authoritative voice answered. "He can have both, just as soon as I make sure the King is all right." Ermon checked his heart, lungs and everything else. "I am currently keeping your glamour in place to prevent infection, but it is not nearly as effective as when you do it yourself. Does it hurt?"

Thranduil nodded. "Yes, but it is better than open air."

"We can remedy that. Master Óin has made something to put on it to help with the pain, until you gain enough strength, and I will give you some willow bark tea, with a few drops of poppy syrup, along with some broth." The Chief Healer put his hands on his hips. "Then, you will sleep, My Lord. If you argue, I will put you under myself. We almost lost you, too, and I will not allow any more risks to either of your lives, is that clear?"

Thranduil couldn't help but smile. "You sound like Hilda." He said, weakly.

"I shall take that as a compliment. She is a wise and formidable woman. Now, do not move until I get your medicine." He left, then quickly returned with the concoction, and made sure he drank it all, then he relaxed on the bed, still looking at Bard.

"You have another visitor, Mellon nîn." Feren said with amusement in his voice.

A giant canine head appeared in Thranduil's line of sight, then Thangon hoisted his front paws on the bed and rested his head on his chest. The Elvenking smiled and stroked the dog, and whispered. "Bardya rehtalyë; hantanyet órenyallo, Thangon."

Thangon whined, and reached up to lick Thranduil's face, making him laugh.

Tauriel came over and grabbed his collar. "Come on; Ada needs his rest," and she gently urged the dog back down. Then she scratched behind his ear, which produced a grateful moan from the dog. "You can fuss over him later, when he has slept some more, all right?"

Tauriel sat back down in the chair, and continued to pet the dog, as she told him about Thangon's efforts to prevent Bard's injury. "Thangon had been agitated and grabbed Bard's sleeve and then his wrist, but I do not think Bard understood what the dog was trying to tell him."

"Thangon," Thranduil looked down at the dogs large, soulful eyes. "We shall make sure Bard heeds you from now on. Together, we shall keep him safe, and if he does not listen to us, I shall ask the Lady Hilda to take a strap to him." Thangon wagged his tail and barked softly, then went over to eat his food.

"I am glad to see him with an appetite, once more." Tauriel said. "He has suffered much."

"You have suffered too, my Gwinïg." Thranduil stroked Tauriel's red hair. "I am sorry you were frightened."

"But you are here." She sniffled. "I have not lost you."

"When I have rested more, please remind me to tell you something." He said.

She looked at him curiously, but then a noise from the doorway caught her attention. "Oh, look."

It was a guard, bearing a tray, with a bowl of broth and a few pieces of bread.

"Ermon says your first meals should be bland." Tauriel told him. "And no wine. And you must drink a lot of water."

"Oh." he said, dismally. But he found that, after his trip to the necessary (which was worth it; he was horrified to see the urinal the Chief Healer had provided, so he urged Feren to help him, before Ermon tried to stop him), he had no real strength left. After Tauriel spoon-fed him the broth, and he finished two glasses of water, he was ready to lay back down again.

Tauriel was concerned, as she tucked him in. "Will you be all right?"

The Healer answered peeked his head in. "He will be, if he gets more rest."

"I promise." He smiled at Ermon. "Thank you for your help."

"Think nothing of it. I am only glad to see you awake, even if it is not for long."

Tauriel asked, "May I sit with him, until he falls asleep? I will be quiet."

Thranduil kissed her hand. "I would love nothing more, Gwinïg. I am so happy to be with you, again." He looked up at Ermon. "Could she stay?"

The Healer nodded, and went over to Bard to check him over, then left.

After Tauriel adjusted her chair, so Thranduil could see his Bard, he sighed and fell back asleep, holding his daughter's hand. Tauriel stayed by his side and Thangon put his head on her lap, to keep Tauriel company, until she, too fell asleep.

Some time later, Ermon once again found Tauriel asleep with her head on the mattress, holding her Thranduil's hand to her wet cheek, only this time they were happy tears. As before, he found an extra blanket and wrapped around her shoulders, and as he stroked her brow, sent up his own prayer of thanksgiving, that his beloved King did not die.

And for the first time in five days, Ermon, Chief Healer of the Woodland Realm, went to his room and finally had a good night's sleep.

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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

Tond Âr Nîn – My Tall King – Mírelen's pet name for her husband, when she was alive.

Gûr nîn be hen – I agree with you

Neledho – Enter (command)

Bardya rehtalyë; hantanyet órenyallo, Thangon – (Quenya) You saved my Bard; I thank you from my heart, Thangon.