Chapter Fifty-Two

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SUMMARY: Our Kings try to adjust to life as invalids. Their caretakers have their work cut out for them…

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Bard and Thranduil's confinement wasn't all bad. While it was true that the circumstances for their time together was not ideal, they were a newly-wed couple, after all, and between naps, they talked and continued to get to know each other. The few days taken for their wedding trip, and those brief hours alone in the suite on the Royal Wing, were wonderful, but now they had copious amounts of time to share stories of their youth, and talk about their parents. They also spent a great deal of time helping Bard learn Sindarin.

One day, Bard took a deep breath, and asked Thranduil, "Do you remember anything when you were… asleep?"

The Elf put down the letter he was reading from Sigrid and looked at him in amazement. "Yes," he said warily.

At Bard's nod, Thranduil urged him to talk about it, and was mesmerized at Bard's description of his visit with Gandalf, and described what he saw, when the Wizard opened the "Garden" door.

"You saw the Halls of Mandos?" The Elvenking was incredulous.

"I did. You'd think it would be frightening, but really, it wasn't. It looked to me like a place of…rest; I don't know how to describe it. Then Gandalf showed me the door to your study, but it wasn't... I had to choose where I wanted to be."

"What helped you decide?" Thranduil asked him, softly.

"It was peaceful there, but I'd never truly be happy, because there would be no love, like I have with you and the children. I was afraid of the bad times to come, and I won't lie about that, but in the end, that wasn't a good enough reason to miss out on what I've got here, now." Bard reached for his hand, and admitted, "I was tempted, but I don't want you to think it was because I don't love you."

"I understand." Thranduil smiled, and kissed him. "I am sorry you did not see your Mattie."

"But I did see her, the night we got together, remember?" Bard caressed Thranduil's cheek. "Did Gandalf appear to you, too?"

Thranduil pulled away and sat up straight, sitting cross-legged against the pillows. "No, it was not Gandalf," he said in a small voice, as he looked off into space.

Bard studied his face for several moments. "It was Mírelen, wasn't it?"

Thranduil nodded, and sighed.

"But that's wonderful, love!" Bard said, and he meant it, but he took note of his husband's discomfort. "You don't have to tell me about it, if you don't want to."

The Elf looked at him quickly. "I am happy to speak about it, but it was just so… remarkable…"

"Was it hard to see her again?"

"Not at all." Thranduil smiled at him. "I was truly happy to see her, Bard, and I, too seriously considered going with her."

"Can you tell me why?" Bard asked, gently.

"It was not so much because I wanted to be with her, although it would have been nice. Bard, I am ancient, and most of my years on Middle Earth have been spent in mourning – why would I not want to go where I could be free of that weight?"

"You were 'tired,' too." Bard kissed his hand. "It's not a terrible thing to want to avoid more grief."

Thranduil smiled, "I realized, Meleth nîn, no matter what happens, no matter how painful it could be, my place is with you. Mírelen understood, and sent me off with a full heart." He shook his head and laughed. "She knew what I was going to do, before I did."

"Was it hard to leave her? I mean, you've missed her for such a long time…"

"Yes and no," the Elf answered, and swallowed hard. "The last I'd seen of Mírelen was in my arms, covered in blood, with terror on her face. I had been filled with unspeakable sorrow, my ears filled of my small son's screams, and the sounds of my own weeping…"

He heaved a great sigh. "Those images haunted me, but now, when I think of her, I will remember her in a beautiful, sunny meadow, with blue flowers in her hair… It was a wonderful gift."

"I'm happy for you, love. I really am." Bard reached up and stroked his cheek. "And she has a good life, now? She's really all right?"

"She is." He grinned down at his Bowman. "Mírelen told me she likes you, and she is looking forward to meeting you, when we sail to Valinor."

"I think I'm looking forward to that, too."

Thranduil laid back down, and laid his head on Bard's shoulder, "She told me many more things, Bard. Things I had no idea about, and things I must do."

"Really?" Bard kissed his hair. "Do you want to talk about it?" At Thranduil's nod, he said. "You can tell me as much or as little as you want, love."

So the Bowman listened, with increasing fascination, as his Elf told him all the details of his time in the forest with Mírelen, and all that was said.

Bard caressed his jaw. "How do you feel?"

"I feel a peace I have not known for nearly a thousand years. It almost makes what you and I went through worth it."

Bard hummed his agreement. "Can I ask you something?"

"Certainly, Meleth."

"Do you think Mírelen has found someone new?"

"We will find out, when the time comes. If she has, I wish her the same joy I have with you."

Bard raised his arm and put it around Thranduil's shoulders, and held him. "I hate this cast, and I hate that we're both recuperating, but I'm glad we're doing it together."

"Mmm hmmm…" Thranduil's eyes were already closed, and soon, they were asleep.

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City of Dale; 28th of April, 2942 T.A.

Over the next weeks, the Kings slept a great deal of the time, and things went on as normal as possible around them, both in the Dale and the Woodland Realm. Dáin went back to the Mountain, but he kept the troops in place and made sure the Woodland Realm did the same.

There was another positive development: Thangon finally stopped trying to wrestle with Thranduil over his spot on the bed, for which the Elvenking was grateful. He liked the dog, really, but this contest of wills was becoming tiresome.

Every time the Elvenking came back from the privy, he'd find the dog laying in his place, and Thangon had become increasingly stubborn about giving it up. At first, his protests were feeble, and groaned when Thranduil ordered him off. Then the Elvenking had to push him off over louder protests. Thangon made a last-ditch effort to win the contest by becoming completely limp, and pretending he was being hurt, every time Thranduil pulled on his legs. In the end, it took two guards to lift him off, and pour him onto the hearth.

Bard was no help, at all. He found the whole situation hilarious, especially when Thangon decided that howling would be a good way to voice his objections, once he was back on the floor.

"What?" he asked Thranduil, after a particularly difficult wrestling match. Bard was holding his stomach, still laughing.

"You could order him to get off, you know." Thranduil gave him an imperious look.

"I'm stuck here, flat on my back, love; I need all the entertainment I can get." Bard grinned. "Think of it this way: now you've got someone to 'bark' orders at." Then he stuck out his tongue at his Elf.

Thranduil rolled his eyes. "That is the worst joke I have ever heard!"

"You have to be nice to me; I'm an invalid," the King of Dale smirked, then reached over to scratch the dog behind his ears. "What's the matter, boy? Did the nasty, horrible Elvenking throw you on the floor? He's so mean, isn't he?"

Thangon wagged his tail, then gave Thranduil a simpering 'I-won-this-round' look.

"Be quiet; both of you." The Elvenking griped, to both man and dog, before going back to his book.

Finally, Tauriel took pity on all of them, and sewed some extra pillows together, to make a nice soft bed for Thangon on the hearth. After a few more half-hearted attempts at ousting the Elvenking, the big dog accepted his fate, but made himself appeared wretched and pitiable whenever he thought they were looking.

Thranduil could swear the dog was snoring louder on purpose.

As amusing as that was, and despite visitors offering company and cheer, Thranduil was growing increasingly frustrated. Ermon would not allow Thranduil to get out of bed, except to use the privy or when Bard needed privacy; otherwise he was on bed-rest, and the Healer would not budge.

"How long will this recovery take?" Thranduil wanted to know, as he came back from the necessary on the eighth day after he woke up. It was after lunch, and Ermon had to help him get back into the room and sat him down on the side of the bed.

Bard was awake, and petting Thangon's head as it sat on his chest. "That's what I'd love to know."

"It will take as long as it will take, My Lord, and until then, you will be going nowhere."

The Elvenking tried a domineering tactic, "You cannot tell me –"

"Thranduil," Ermon interrupted, his jaw set. "I have never seen any Elf give as much as you, and live; even a powerful Sindar such as yourself!"

"But surely –"

The Healer waved his hands in frustration. "Did I tell you that by the time you collapsed, you were seconds away from death? If you do not believe me, ask Commander Feren!" Ermon gave Thranduil a severe look. "My Lord; I am not asking you: I am ordering you back to bed. You will follow my instructions, or I will have King Dáin assign a Dwarven guard to stay inside this room, to keep you in bed; do I make myself clear?"

The Elvenking was thunderstruck. "You would not dare!"

"Would you like to test that theory?" Ermon put his hands on his hips and raised his eyebrow. "Please; challenge me on this, and we shall see, won't we?"

He gaped at the Chief Healer for several moments, then shut his mouth, but Ermon wasn't finished with his lecture, and continued to deliver it in a withering tone.

"Thranduil, you had nothing left! We had hands on you for days, doing your breathing for you, telling your heart when to beat, to keep you from fading, and we didn't even know if it would work! Everyone in the Great Hall, and in the Palace back home were sending up prayers, day and night! It took five long days, before we even knew you would live! Sire, you need to take a few moments, and understand what that was like for everyone who worried about you!

"However, if you want to be prideful and selfish, by all means: get up and start walking around! Show your disregard for poor Galion and Hilda, who had to keep all this bad news to themselves and maintain a cheerful front for Lord Bard's children, so Lady Tilda would not relapse! Show how little you care for Sigrid, Bain, and Tilda, when you perish, all because of your stubbornness! Spit on all those who prayed for you, who worried for you, were terrified for you and for the entire Northern Kingdoms!"

With that, the Healer stormed out of the room. Thangon huffed his agreement, and after a disgusted look at the Elvenking, walked out, too.

"Wow." Bard's eyes were wide. "He really yelled at you! I've never seen anybody yell at you, like that," he marveled. "Well, except me, of course."

Thranduil sat on the bed and heaved a sigh of frustration. "Bard, I do not mean to cause such a problem, truly, but I find this idleness nearly impossible to bear… It is different for you…"

"Oh? And I'm used to laying around like a slug; is that what you're saying?"

"But you are sleeping much more than I am now, and I must… do something! The women and children should be returning in a few weeks from the Palace, and I have to –"

"I heard that!" Ermon's voice called, from down the corridor. "No; you do NOT 'have to.'"

At that, Bard laughed outright.

"I am glad you think it is amusing!" Thranduil gave his husband a filthy look. "Wait until you are feeling stronger, and see how you like it!" The Elvenking rolled his eyes. "You are still exhausted, so, besides having to deal with the inconvenience of the pitcher and privy pan…"

"'Inconvenience? ' It's fucking humiliating, is what it is! You honestly think I'm comfortable?" Bard managed to raise himself up on his elbows. "Do you have any idea how much this cast itches? Or how my back feels, from laying in one place? Or what it's like to have someone help you pee, and wipe your arse?" he growled through gritted teeth, "Go ahead; tell me again how terrible you have it, I fucking dare you!"

Thranduil sighed. "You are right; I am sorry, Meleth nîn." He turned to look Bard with a small smile.

"Come here, love." Bard patted the space next to him. "Make your crippled, invalid husband feel better."

The Elvenking pulled back the covers and crawled in. "It is not that I think the Kingdom will not run without me; it is –"

"- it bothers you that it can." Bard finished. "You're afraid you're no longer needed. I know that's what I'm feeling. The physical discomfort's bad enough, but being so useless..."

Thranduil sighed. "Yes," he admitted, as he punched his pillow and flopped down. "Ermon was right; I am prideful, and I can be selfish…"

"Well, that's true," Bard agreed.

Thranduil scowled. "I am also bored!"

"If I was feeling a little better, I'd help you relieve some tension," Bard said, before he stifled a yawn, "but I'm having a hard time staying awake."

"That is too bad; I think we both could use the release." The Elf sighed. "It is difficult to lie next to you and be chaste." He groaned. "It is difficult to just lie here, period!"

"I feel the same way, but whining won't help." Bard jabbed him with his elbow. "You're such a big baby when you're sick."

"That is the problem! I have never been 'sick!'" Never, in nearly 4,000 years! How do you do this?"

Bard yawned. "Try to get some more rest, love. The more you do as your told, the faster you'll be up and around." Bard pulled Thranduil's face closer to give him a kiss, tried to make himself as comfortable as possible, and went back to sleep.

Thranduil just scowled and picked up the book Tauriel had brought him, and began to read, but only a few minutes after Bard closed his eyes, the Elf fell asleep himself, and his book fell to the floor.

City of Dale, 3rd of May, 2942, T.A.

The Chief Healer had eventually allowed Thranduil to do a bit of paperwork off of a tray in his lap, and allowed both Kings to hold short meetings with Percy, Ben and Alun, so they could be kept up to speed with the goings on Dale.

In the mornings, he would sit cross-legged with a tray in front of him, reading and signing papers, or work on the book for Legolas, while Bard napped. In light of his recent visit with Mirelen, he was especially anxious to finish it, but he chose not to describe that encounter to his son, until they were face-to-face. He drew a sketch of his wife in the clearing, though, with flowers in her hair, and cradling the rabbit in her arms. He also made a copy of it to keep for himself.

"It's beautiful, love," Bard said, when Thranduil showed it to his husband. "What an incredible thing!"

"This is how I will think of her, Meleth nîn. This memory is precious to me, because it was in this very moment she told me you would live, that I had saved you."

"Oh, love..." He held his arms out. "Come here."

Thranduil set the drawing on the side table and buried his face in Bard's neck and breathed in his scent. "I love you."

"Gi Melin, Thranduil. Urieb..." Bard whispered. "It's all such a miracle..."

"It is."

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There were many, many well-wishes from their subjects. The teachers at the Palace had sent a large packet of drawings from the children, and stacks of letters and notes from many of the adults of both races. Tauriel hung up sheets along the walls and pinned the children's drawings on them, to bring her fathers a bit of cheer, which was greatly appreciated, but, while these colorful drawings were delightful and added whimsy to their days, it could only help so much.

The Kings were simply stir-crazy, and it was making everyone around them miserable.

One morning Thranduil growled, threw back his blankets and got out of bed, pronouncing loudly that he going to do as he pleased.

Ermon raised his eyebrows at him (he was doing that a lot, lately) and threatened to put him under a losta-luith.

"You would not dare!" Thranduil spat.

"Would I not? Get back in that bed!" Ermon warned, as he pointed to his pillows.

"I will not!"

"Have it your way, then. It is your choice."

Thranduil stared daggers at the Healer, until Ermon waved his hand, chanting several words in Quenya. The guards, already alerted to the situation, hurried toward Thranduil and grabbed him, as he closed his eyes, and covered him with blankets.

"So, that was easily done; he should be asleep for approximately three hours." The Healer put his hands on his hips and scowled at Bard. "Am I going to have any trouble with you, today?"

"Me?" Bard's eyes widened and he shrank back. "Um…no."

"Good." Ermon nodded and walked out.

Bard saw Percy's delighted look and frowned. "I don't see what's so funny about this!"

"Oh, I do," the Steward said and leaned over to whisper, "We've been taking bets on when Ermon would do that, and Ben and I won the pool!"

Percy's laughed followed him all the way down the corridor. Bard sighed, and waited, as he began to count: "One… two… three… four…" When he reached twelve, he heard the roar of laughter from the direction of the Great Hall.

"Bastard," Bard mumbled, then turned to his left to see Thangon sitting up and tilting his head back and forth at him.

"What? You think this is funny, do you?"

After a couple of delighted barks, the dog came over to lick his face, then ran out to find Taurie

A few nights later, the invalid Kings decided they were strong enough to attend to matters neglected for far too long…

"Holy shit!" Bard woke up in the middle of the night with a groan; he was painfully hard, and smooth, long fingers were stroking his cock, and lips were greedily suckling on his nipple.

"Oh… aaaaaaahh…" Bard hissed, as Thranduil bit him. "I thought I was dreaming…"

"I want you, Bard; please…" Thranduil groaned. "I cannot wait any longer."

"I can't either..." Bard whimpered. "How do we do this? I can't move, as much as I want to."

"I have an idea…" Thranduil put Thangon out then locked the door. He reached down and gave Bard a hard, filthy kiss, removed his own night clothes, then carefully eased Bard's nightshirt off. Then he turned to face the foot of the bed, and swung his leg over as Bard grabbed his hips and eased them lower, to take the Elf's cock into his mouth. He began to suck on him greedily, and Thranduil threw his head back and let out a loud groan.

"AE!... Avo dharo!" he cried out. "I shall die if you stop! A ma! Ma!"

Bard let go with a loud pop, and hissed. "Shhh! If you wake anybody up before I come, I'll kill you myself! Now, put that mouth of yours to work, Elf!"

When Thranduil put his mouth on him, and began to suck hard, Bard thought he would pass out, from the pleasure. Despite that, Bard managed to work the Elf's cock, as he ran his fingers over the sensitive skin of Thranduil's balls and the inside of this thighs. With his other hand, he pumped up and down the shaft, until it was red and throbbing, and he could feel Thranduil's thighs tremble.

The vibrations from their moans only egged each other on, until he felt Thranduil body stiffen, and he pulled off Bard's cock with a growl, then bit down on his thigh as he came with a muffled scream. Bard made a point to exaggerate his swallowing motions to heighten his orgasm, and it must have worked, because it seemed Thranduil's cock couldn't stop twitching in his mouth, and the muffled noises continued for some time. Finally, he felt the Elf grow soft, and Thranduil quickly moved around and took Bard back in his mouth and sucked hard.

"Oh, gods! Oh, fuck!" Bard arched off the bed. His right hand sank into icy blonde hair, while he covered his mouth with the left, to stifle his screams.

At last, Thranduil flopped down beside him, and it took longer than they both wanted to admit to catch their breath.

"I do not think we were allowed to do that." Thranduil managed to say, between gasps of air.

"Ask me if I care," Bard croaked, as he panted. "Stars… I needed that."

"I have missed you, Hervenn nîn."

"Me, too. I've wanted you for days, but was too pooped to do anything about it. Could you get us some water, love?"

Thranduil managed to get to the table, and bring back a glass for them to share. Once they finished it, Thranduil got back into his nightclothes and helped Bard with his shirt. "I do not want them suspecting we were naughty." He smiled.

"Oh, I think they'll know."

"How so?"

"We won't act like Wargs tomorrow." Bard grinned.

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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

Gi Melin, Thranduil.

; Urieb... – I love you, Thranduil; always.

losta-luith - sleeping-spell

AE! Avo dharo! – Ooh! Don't stop!

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NOTES:

According to my research, the volume of blood can be replaced in a body within four or five days, but it takes six to eight weeks to replace red blood cells. Until then, Bard is severely anemic and must stay in bed.