Chapter Fifty-Three

SUMMARY: Life as invalids takes its toll, not only for them, but for everyone around our Kings. Thankfully, these two grumpy patients get their comeuppance.

And nobody feels sorry for them.

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City of Dale, 8th of May; 2942 T.A.

Despite the release of tension with nocturnal activities, their stamina was not recovering nearly as fast as their will.

There was no doubt about it: Bard and Thranduil were grumpy, whiny, impossible, and altogether horrible patients. Under those conditions, it was inevitable that their long-suffering caretakers would reach their limit, and when they did, their retribution was severe.

And effective.

On that day, Old Ben sat in the chair by Bard's bed after breakfast, to bring him up to speed with the construction. Their daily meetings were brief, as Bard still tired easily, but refused to admit it. This morning, he objected a bit too fiercely when Ben got up and begin gathering his drawings and papers.

"No, My Lord. I am allowed one half-hour and no more."

"Ben, don't leave! I feel fine!"

"Bard, your eyes are drooping; you can hardly keep 'em open!" The builder shook his head at him. "In any case, Ermon'd have my head if I stay too long, and these days, he's just as cantankerous as the two of you."

"I am NOT cantankerous!" Bard growled. "I'm in charge of Dale, not him!"

"Not right now, you're not." Ben gave him a patient smile. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Bard gritted his teeth, and threw his pillow at the closed door.

"I am not picking that up!" Thranduil snapped.

"Fine!" Bard said through gritted teeth, and put his arm behind his head to support it. "If I'm cantankerous, I'm not the only one!"

After a few minutes, the door opened again, and Ermon picked up the pillow. "Do you want to tell me what this is doing here?"

"No!" Bard stared at the ceiling. "How the bloody fuck would you feel, after weeks of this shit? My back is killing me from lying flat and not moving, and I can't even roll over for someone to rub it! I'm sick of staring at the ceiling day in, day out, having people wait on me like I'm helpless! How would you feel?"

The Chief Healer rolled his eyes and sighed. "I would not like it any better than you do, Bard. And I probably would feel just as frustrated, but I cannot help this! I do not want you to have a permanent limp, unless of course, that does not bother you, in which case, I will remove the cast in its entirety and allow you to put weight on it. You make the choice." He crossed his arms and stared at the King of Dale.

Bard closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and swore under his breath. "Fine." He muttered. "The fact that I'm… different now doesn't make a damn bit of difference, does it?"

"On the contrary. If you were still a normal Man, you would have to lie flat like that for at least three months, and a limp would be unavoidable. As it stands now, you will suffer no lingering aches in old age, as a normal man would, so all things considered, I would think you would count your blessings, Bard."

Thranduil looked at his husband, "He is right, Meleth nîn."

"Hmmm…" Bard growled.

"Let us see how things are progressing today, shall we?" Ermon stepped over and pulled Bard's covers back. Everyone was silent, as the Healer placed his hands on Bard's leg and closed his eyes. After a few minutes, his hands moved to his chest, to listen to his lungs, then carefully looked at his heart. When he removed his hands and stood up straight, he said, "I believe we can remove the portion around your hips, so you can sit up."

"Oh, praise the stars and all the Valar!" Bard said. "I'm so fucking tired of being spoon fed, not to mention using that pitcher and privy pan! I'll be able to do for myself, now?"

"Your leg has most decidedly healed faster than is normal."

"That's all well and good, but how will we explain that to everyone?"

"Simple: Elven magic." Ermon smiled. "Most men do not understand the extent, or lack of it thereof, so I doubt anyone would question things. It is not a lie, as I am continually making sure the pieces of bone are set correctly, and do not move." He looked at Bard with a steady gaze. "My Lord, you will still have to stay in bed, until the end of the month. Perhaps longer."

"WHAT?" Bard was incredulous. "But why?"

"I have told you this, many times before: you lost too much blood, Bard! Even in Elves, it takes a while for your body to produce more, and to sustain you. Though much of the volume of blood has been replaced, there is nothing in it to nourish your body and keep your organs functioning. We will continue to feed you a diet of red meat and green leafy vegetables, and you will need to drink a great deal of milk, as well."

"So, I need to stay put?" Bard cried dismally. "Shit..."

"You will be in danger, if you try to get up and around."

"But I'm feeling better!"

"Because you are on bed rest." Ermon raised a dark eyebrow at his patient. "Are you going to argue with me? Because if you do not heed me, I will leave the cast where it is…"

"You wouldn't!"

"Are you going to behave?"

"Dammit!" Bard lost his temper completely, and began to yell. "I'm a King in charge of a brand-new country and there are buildings that need to be finished and arrangements to make for the children's return –" Bard gritted his teeth. "I will not lay in here when my people come back to Dale! I want to be there! I really want to go get them, but I'd be a fool to think you'd allow that!"

"You are correct; I would not, but if you do as I tell you, you can observe the arrival of your women and children, at the end of the month."

"I will be there, whether you tell me I can or not!" Bard snapped. "Stop treating me like a petulant child, Ermon!"

"But you are acting like a petulant child, Bard!" The Chief Healer finally lost his patience. "Between you and Thranduil, I am at my wit's end!"

"He is, and I don't blame him one bit," Percy said, from the door way. "I'm fed up to my ears with the both of you!"

"But Pers –"

"Did you know you two made Tauriel cry, yesterday?" He gave them a disgusted look.

"I did?" Bard gasped.

"He did?" asked Thranduil.

"Hey!" The Bowman glared at his husband.

"You both did, you Trolls!" Percy yelled. "When Dáin found her crying in her room, you're lucky he didn't come in here and chop your bloody heads off!"

"It wasn't just me!" Thranduil snapped. "Bard has been acting like Beorn's bear the last couple of days."

"Well, at least you can get up and around under your own power, even if it isn't very much! Nobody's making you take a piss in a vase, or shit in bowl and have someone else wipe your arse!" Bard yelled at the very top of his lungs. "I'M SICK OF IT!" Then he took the cup on the stand beside his bed and threw it into the fireplace.

"THAT'S ENOUGH! You both have been acting like spoiled, ungrateful jackasses!" Percy roared. "Tauriel's been bending over backwards to try cheer you up, and all you do is snipe and bitch and moan and groan, not just to her, but to everybody! Now, knock it off!"

"Where is Tauriel now?" Bard wanted to know.

"She's gone to the Erebor for a few days, with my blessing." Percy continued to glare at them. "You two have no fucking clue how scared that girl was, not knowing whether she'd lose one or both of you, and you'll not come anywhere near her, until you both stop being such bloody arseholes!"

Thranduil was completely taken aback. Not once, in his entire life, had anyone dared to speak to him that way, and he opened his mouth to reprimand him, but before he could, Ermon spoke up, with an exasperated tone.

"I am glad somebody said it," the Chief Healer crossed his arms. "I have been in this profession longer than you have been alive," he addressed Thranduil, "I served your parents, and I brought you into this world myself, and while I have to utmost respect for you as a King, you, along with your husband, are the worst patients I have encountered in 6000 years!" he shouted.

Percy went and stood by the Chief Healer with a gleam in his eye. "Luckily, we won't have to put up with you two much longer. After your little stunt yesterday, Dáin and I made a decision."

"But –" Bard began, but Percy didn't let him finish.

"Shut up! Everybody's had enough of this shit from both of you!"

"What are you going to do?" Thranduil demanded.

"Nothing you do not deserve," Ermon said, with a severe look.

"And I don't feel a bit sorry for you," Percy seconded, with his mouth in a grim line.

"What?" Bard cried. "You can't just –"

The Steward narrowed his eyes. "Watch me."

After giving them smug, satisfied smiles, Percy and Ermon turned on their heels, and left the room, closing the door behind them.

Thranduil gave his husband an irritated look.

"What?" Bard grumped.

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Their midday meals were brought on trays, but the guard who brought them, left abruptly again. They managed to get through their lunch with a minimum of griping, and later that afternoon, Thranduil was sitting in the chair by Bard's bed, reading aloud, when they heard sudden activity, outside.

"The wagons are here." Bard observed, propping himself up. "They'll be coming more often now, to bring the furniture and stuff from the Palace."

"I hope the children sent letters," Thranduil whined. "I am bored."

An hour later, Percy walked in with a stack of papers. "These are for you two." He set them on the foot of the bed, and almost made it through the doorway, before he turned and said. "Something else came for you, too."

"Pers…" Bard asked warily.

Percy just laughed, and shut the door behind him.

The Kings gave each other a wide-eyed, dubious stare. What was goin on?

And he knew.

Bard suddenly gasped. "Oh, no..."

"What is wrong, Meleth nîn?"

"Oh, they wouldn't..."

"What?"

"Oh, shit…shit!" Bard scrunched his eyes shut.

Thangon jumped to his feet and began to whine. He tried to dive underneath Bard's bed, but got himself stuck. After he managed to struggle loose, stuck his head under his huge pillow on the hearth.

"Bloody coward." Bard gave his dog a dirty look.

A voice biome from the corridor followed by the sound of angry footsteps.

"WHERE ARE THEY?"

Thranduil gasped. "Ai! Amarth faeg!" His eyes widened like saucers.

"We're in for it now..." Bard murmured.

The door banged open. "YOU TWO!"

Hilda entered the room with her hands on her hips. "DO YOU REALIZE HOW MANY HOURS I JUST SPENT, RATTLING MY BONES IN A WAGON, ALL BECAUSE YOU REFUSE TO BEHAVE?"

"Oh, bloody fuck..." Bard groaned.

"WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE!" She pointed at Bard. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW BUSY I AM, RIGHT NOW? WHAT IN MORDOR IS WRONG WITH THE BOTH OF YOU? I SHOULD BE BACK THERE, HELPING GET OUR FOLKS READY, BUT, OHHHH NOOOOO! I'VE GOT TO COME AND BABYSIT A COUPLE OF CRANKY BABIES!" She stomped her foot in fury.

They both shrank back with red faces.

"I OUGHTTA SLAP THE TWO OF YOU UPSIDE THE HEAD TILL YOUR BRAINS RATTLE!"

"But Hil…" Bard began. "It's –"

"I -" Thranduil tried to say.

"SHUT YOUR MOUTHS, BOTH OF YOU! I CAN'T BELIEVE I HAVE TO COME AND MAKE YOU TWO BEHAVE! YOU OUGHT TO BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELVES!"

"Well…" Bard started.

"NOT A WORD!" She skewered Bard with narrowed eyes.

Then she turned on Thranduil. "AND YOU! YOU'RE JUST AS BAD AS HE IS!"

"I am not! Bard is –"

"Hey!" Bard smacked him with the back of his hand. "Will you quit that?"

"ENOUGH!" She stomped her foot, again. "I'M READY TO TAKE YOU BOTH OVER MY KNEE AND SPANK YOU INTO THE MIDDLE OF NEXT WEEK, AND DON'T YOU THINK I WON'T!"

"You would not dare!" Thranduil sat up straight and did his best to look menacing.

Bard smacked him again in the chest. "Will you shut up?" He hissed out of the corner of his mouth.. "You'll just make it worse!"

And Bard was right. It didn't seem possible, but Hilda became even more menacing. "IF I HAVE TO BE THE ONE TO MAKE YOU TWO TWO ACT YOUR AGE, THEN BY THE VALAR, THAT'S WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN! YOU WILL NOT DISRESPECT YOUR HEALERS, DO YOU HEAR ME? YOU WILL NOT PICK FIGHTS WITH THE GUARDS, OR WITH PERCY OR WITH EACH OTHER, AND YOU WILL DO AS YOU'RE BLOODY WELL TOLD!"

Cheers and applause erupted from the corridor. Bard looked around Hilda to see Percy, Ermon, Feren and the other residents of the corridor clapping their hands. Ben was standing next to Alun, who stuck his fingers in his mouth let out a few whistles to punctuate his approval.

"YOU!" Hilda addressed Thranduil, who was still in the chair by Bard's bed. "Get your arse back in bed!" She pointed to his place on the beds. "The Healer says you need to keep warm."

"But –"

"WAS I ASKING?" She marched over to his bed and whipped the covers back, and ordered. "GET OVER HERE, NOW!"

Completely cowed, Thranduil hung his head and did as he was told. Once in, she pulled up the blankets, and tucked them tightly around him. "There; snug as a bug. And you'll be staying in bed, too. You're not allowed up, unless it's to go to the privy, is that clear?"

"But I was allowed in the corridor to walk, before!" he protested

"Not anymore, you're not. You will be confined to this room, until you're done behaving like a Warg, and start acting like an Elf King, do I make myself clear?" Hilda narrowed her eyes, and dared him to argue.

Which he didn't; he might be a great and mighty Elvenking, but he knew he when he was beat.

Then she stood up and went to the bottom of Bard's bed. "And now we will deal with you, boy." She addressed Bard.

"What did I do? I can't bloody well move, so you can't accuse me of- " Bard yelled.

"No; you can't move, and you bloody well won't be, either. You're going to keep that thing on for an extra day, just for being so grouchy to Tauriel!"

"Hey! It wasn't just me! Anyway, Ermon said they were going to take it off!"

"And I told him not to! Instead, young man, you're going to lie there, flat on your back and think about what you've done! Is that clear?"

"But, Hil –"

"And, if you still act up, it's staying on longer, and I'll take over duties with the privy pan and the pitcher! They don't need a Healer to do that, and everyone's sick of your bad attitude! It's your choice, Bard; behave, or I'll be the one wiping shit off your arse!"

"You can't do that!" Bard shuddered, completely embarrassed.

"What are you going to do about it? Sic your guards on me? Ha! Trust me; you won't get any help from them!"

Bard opened his mouth a few times, then closed it, as he looked to his husband for support. Thranduil just laid there, still wide-eyed, with the blankets pulled up to his chin.

"Now then," she looked at them severely with her hands on her hips. "Am I going to have any more trouble out of you two?"

"No," the Kings looked down, avoiding her gaze.

"No, what?" She asked expectantly.

"No, Mistress," they mumbled.

"Good. You've had your lunch, so does anyone need the necessary?"

"No," they said in unison, still not meeting her eye.

"Now boys, you're both are going to take a nap, and I don't want to hear a peep out of you, is that clear?"

"Yes." Bard said, meekly.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Hilda."

"What about you, Thranduil?"

"I will behave." Thranduil rolled his eyes. When Hilda raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips, he quickly added, "My Lady."

She came over to each side of the bed, and gave them a kiss on the cheek, as she smoothed the covers down. "Now, you boys get some sleep, and we'll talk later." Before she reached the door, she turned for a final benediction: "AND BY THE VALAR, BEHAVE!"

Then she left, slamming the door behind her.

They sat in silence for several minutes, waiting for the ringing in their ears to stop.

"Avon cared!" Thranduil muttered, peevishly.

"I HEARD THAT!" Hilda's voice was heard through the door. "And YES, you WILL!"

"Rhaich!" The Elf rolled his eyes and punched his pillow.

"Hush! Just wait…" Bard whispered.

After a minute or two, they heard Hilda's footsteps leaving her place on the other side of the door, and walk away.

"She was –" Thranduil began.

"Shhh! Hang on… hang on a minute." Bard urged him to be quiet. "One… two… three… four…"

"What are you doing, Bard?"

"...five... six... seven..."

This time Bard only made it to ten, before the roar of laughter and applause reached them from the Grand Hall.

"They are laughing at us!" The Elvenking sat up in alarm. "She went out and told everyone, and they are laughing!"

"I think it's worse than that, love." Bard rolled his eyes. "How much do you want to bet, they took bets?"

Thranduil was shocked. "Surely not!"

"You know Percy." Bard shrugged. "Welcome to life in the Great Hall of Dale."

"But surely –"

"Face it, love: we've been taken down a peg or two, and we had it coming." Bard looked over at him. "We were pretty awful, weren't we?"

"I have not been yelled like that since I was a small child..." Thranduil said in a thin voice. "She is as bad as my parents!"

Over by the fireplace, Thangon pulled his head out from under his cushion and growled at them both in disgust.

"Oh, so now you grow a backbone?" Bard shook his head in disgust at his dog. "You're supposed to protect me!"

Thangon harrumphed, and after another scathing look, he flopped back down on top of his bed, with his rear-end facing them.

"Traitor." Bard rolled his eyes.

"I cannot blame him, really." Thranduil turned on his side to face his husband. "Would you growl at Hilda?"

"Not if I wanted to keep my balls." Bard shook his head. "I've seen that dog when he's ferocious, but even that wouldn't scare Hilda, when she gets her dander up."

They lay there for a few moments in silence.

"Bard?"

"What, love?"

"Do you think Hilda enjoyed that?"

"She lives for this stuff; of course she did."

"When I was a child, Ada and Galion did their share of shouting, but no one could put the fear of Mordor in me like Nana could…" Thranduil shook his head with a wistful sigh. "I miss Nana. No matter how much trouble I got into, she always had a hug and kiss for me, at the end of the day." Thranduil yawned. "Just like Hilda."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm glad she's here."

Thranduil raised his head to look at Bard. "I am too, but if you tell anyone, I will deny it."

Bard laughed, then kissed him, before they both settled down, and within minutes, both were in a deep restful sleep, as much of their worries had been lifted off their shoulders.

Now they were sure things would be all right; Auntie Hil was here.

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From his perch on the hearth, Thangon raised his head and watched them sleep for several moments, then put his head between his paws and closed his eyes. At last; things would settle down and he could have some peace and quiet.

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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

losta-luith - sleeping-spell

Ai! Amarth faeg! – Horrors! Evil fate!

Avon cared! – I won't do it!

Rhaich! – Curses!

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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.