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CHAPTER ONE
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Beginning Note: In the first chapter, we backtrack a bit to check in on Vildan, Vanguard of Imladris, who must cut short his exchange year due to a family tragedy.
Back in Dale, Thranduil tries to comfort Tauriel through her own loss, and reveals the reason why she should not give up hope.
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"She's got a smile that it seems to me
Reminds me of childhood memories
Where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky
Now and then when I see her face
She takes me away to that special place
And if I stare too long, I'd probably break down and cry…"
-Sweet Child of Mine by Guns'n Roses
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North of Lothlórien, 18th of August 2945 T.A.
Last September, Vildan, along with five other Vanguard, the elite of Lord Elrond's army, followed the example of their Lothlórien brethren and spend a year in the North in an exchange with six Guardians of the Woodland Realm.
It had been one of the best of Vildan's life.
The blend of differing cultures and traditions were fascinating. The immense size and beauty of the Halls of the Woodland Realm made him think of the ancient caves of Menegroth he had read about, though this Palace had a beauty unique to their people. Many of Lord Thranduil's subjects expressed their delight at the change in their King and their affection for his new husband and family.
Erebor was breathtaking—though Dwarves required an adjustment. Vildan had met some during Oakenshield's brief stay in Rivendell four years ago, before they surreptitiously left in the night to brave the Misty Mountains and continue their quest, the details of which are told elsewhere.
When Vildan first arrived in Dale, Bofur and Bifur greeted him with friendly head-knocks and copious amounts of ale at the Long Lake Tavern, as they caught him up on the events after the Original Thirteen entered the North. Between the wine, pitchers of Rod's finest brew, and games of darts, Vildan learned of their escape from King Thranduil's dungeons, their encounter with Lord Bard (then only a humble bargeman and smuggler) and the sobering details of the Battle of the Five Armies.
His first sight of the Woodland Realm had been a shock—he had heard the stories of the curses on the Greenwood, but the decay and the utter silence of the trees was like nothing he'd ever imagined. He was relieved to see the forest was healthy in the northern portion of the Elvenking's lands.
Last fall, Commander Feren took them south to see what remained of Dol Guldur, and even the remnants of the evil that once dwelled there sent chills through their hearts. The Vanguard, especially the sons of Elrond, gained a whole new respect for the sacrifices Lady Galadriel made to banish Sauron to the South. 1
Of the three kingdoms, Dale was Vildan's favorite. The folks were warm and content, their lives now full of possibility, after years under the dual yokes of grinding poverty and a domineering Master.
The city itself was colorful with its murals (restored by the Elvenking himself), and flower gardens he enjoyed perusing this past spring. For most of his tenure in the City of Bells, he had been assigned to guard the Royal Family at Garon's Castle, which was a delightful task,. King Bard's children were respectful (for the most part) with enough of a mischievous streak to keep them interesting.
But the biggest blessing of his stay in the North was meeting and befriending Captain Tauriel, though their acquaintance did not have an auspicious beginning. Their first afternoon together ended in disaster.
And that disaster was the reason why his beloved mare, Mistanâr was no longer with him. 2
It had been eleven days since his life had changed forever.
Vildan's unit had been patrolling in the south with Prince Legolas when the bird arrived, ordering them to report to the Palace immediately. A message from Rivendell had come. In an ironic twist, the message had been brought by one of the very same falcons that Meássë had raised and trained herself:
Is my sad duty to report that Vildan's sister Meássë and husband Narseg were killed by Orcs during a short trip with Lord Gildor Inglorion on 31st July. Their small daughter Melui is inconsolable, and we are concerned. Glorfindel leaving now with full escort to meet Lieutenant Vildan and hasten his return. My deepest condolences on this tragic loss.
Elrond Eärendillion, Lord of Imladris 3
"Do you hear that?" Elladan brought his horse to a stop.
Vildan shook his brooding thoughts away and returned to the present. It was midday, and Arien had brought Anor to its highest peak in the sky, allowing the clouds to play a hiding game with the light. 4 A light wind stirred the leaves and tall grass that lined their road. A flutter of wings burst from a nearby tree as a flock of sparrows took flight. In the distance, the faint thunder of hooves reached his ears. After exchanging nods with Elladan, they spurred their horses to a run.
Nearly an hour later, four tall, graceful figures atop white horses came into view, their long hair flying in the wind. A ray of sunlight peeked through the clouds and set the leader's hair ablaze, and shimmered across the silvery coat of the stallion who bore him. The parties halted and faced each other just north of the Gates of Lothlórien.
"Mae govanthen, Valendillion," the Elf Lord saluted. "Nínion adin faergol dhîn."
"Thank you, My Lord," Vildan returned the courtesy. "Elladan and I have barely left our saddles since our journey began."
"And we will continue to do so, though I will not allow you to rush over the mountains." Glorfindel's gaze fell upon the chestnut stallion beneath him. "Where is your mare, Lieutenant?"
"She carries a foal due to drop within weeks." Vildan's eyes fell. "It would be dangerous for her to attempt the Pass in her condition."
"Another tragic loss."
Though he meant well, the sympathy in the Elf Lord's eyes drove the dagger deeper, as it searched for fresh ways to make him bleed. Blinking, he swiped at his eyes and cleared his throat. "How fares my niece?"
Glorfindel's voice grew soft, his words brief and deliberate. "Lord Elrond advises haste, Vildan."
"Ai, law!" the strangled sob escaped Vildan and he covered his mouth to stifle the scream that threatened to break free. The other Elves kindly averted their eyes as he struggled to regain his composure.
A warm hand gripped his arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "We are here for you, Mellon." Elladan murmured.
"The Lady sent out some additional provisions to aide us." Glorfindel reached into his tunic and pulled out the envelope tied with a green ribbon and bearing a golden seal. "This from Marchwarden Haldir. He faced a similar challenge and wished to offer his guidance and support."
Vildan tucked the letter into his tunic and said roughly. "Let us not waste a moment."
With all speed, they turned and headed for the Redhorn Pass.
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888
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Rivendell, 3rd of September 2945 T.A.
"The view never gets old," Elladan said.
Their party had stopped at the top of the cliff overlooking Imladris go give their horses to rest and before beginning the long descent down to the valley below.
Vildan drew a deep, harsh breath. "Never in my life have I dreaded going home." He turned to his friend. "How do I do this?"
"There are no easy answers, Mellon nîn." Elladan patted his shoulder. "Love her. That is as good a start as any."
"Mount up!" Glorfindel called to them, and they began the zig-zagged journey down the side of the cliff. Once they reached the grassy plains, Elladan lifted his horn to his lips and signaled their return.
The horses were elated to reach their journey's end. Asfaloth tossed his head, his long, silky mane swinging in the breeze as he crossed the high bridge into Elrond's courtyard. With a loud neigh, he pranced, delighting in the sparks that flew from his shoes as his hooves scraped the smooth stone.
"That is enough for now," Glorfindel patted the stallion's neck. "He never tires of that trick."
A corner of Elladan's mouth lifted in a smirk. Then he took the reins from Vildan. "Give Hûrthenon over to me," he said. "My father will wish to speak to you right away."
Lord Elrond and Lindir met him at the front steps. After the formal greetings, he urged Vildan off to the side with a hand on his back. "In dem anden, Valendillion. De mhaer?"
"I thank you for your concern, My Lord, but my grief is not important just now. Is Melui at home?"
"No. We thought the familiar surroundings might help her, but I am sorry to say it had the opposite effect. I moved her and her caretaker to rooms in the West wing where it is quiet." Elrond's features pinched with worry as he guided Vildan into the house. "You must prepare yourself, Mellonneth nîn. Melui has retreated into her own world. She does not speak, nor does she even seem aware of her surroundings."
"Ai, naergon…" Vildan's chest caved in on itself. "Can you not help her?"
"I have tried, but to no avail. I am hoping your presence will make a difference." Determination flickered in Elrond's eyes. "We will not give up. Come; Lindir will take you to get washed and changed, and then I will take you to her."
Twenty minutes later, they approached the fifth door on the right. "These are Lady Arwen's rooms, though I am sure she will not begrudge us their use." Elrond gave the door a few soft knocks.
"Minno," a soft, female voice said.
Vildan took a deep breath, prayed for guidance, and turned the knob.
And there she was.
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888
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City of Dale 16th of October 2945 T.A.
Thranduil had seen little of his husband lately, but it was for a good reason. Bard was busy helping his people harvest the last of the crops ahead of the frost. He'd be up and gone before Thranduil woke, and would crawl into bed at night and fall asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.
"We should be finished this week, love," Bard said last night.
"Let us hope so," Thranduil rolled over and stroked his hair. "You are exhausted."
"The exercise does me good." Bard mumbled as he flopped an arm loosely over Thranduil's stomach. "I sit around too much as it is."
Tonight, as they had for the past few weeks, found Thranduil and Tauriel heading to the Royal Pastures to check on a heavily-pregnant Mistanâr. With a soft "whuff" Thangon ducked between the fence rails and trotted over to the mare and touched noses with her, his behind wiggling more than the stub of his tail.
"Falarion believes the birth will take place sometime next week," Thranduil said.
"Thank you for sending for him." Tauriel's eyes never left the mare. The golden rays of the setting sun sparkled over the grullo mare's coat as she slowly moved to the next patch of grass. "She will probably be fine, but I will feel better with him attending."
"Mistanâr is easily the most valuable animal in the North," he winced and gave her a sidelong glance, "though do not tell Naurmôr or Lasbelin I said this, or we will never hear the end of it."
"My lips are sealed," the elleth winked as she rested her arms on the rail of the fence. "It can't come a moment too soon. I think Mistanâr is tired of the whole process."
"She is ungainly and awkward, which does not help her mood, I think."
They observed the horses in peaceful silence, until the mare grew sick of her mate's hovering, and nipped him in the withers. Lasbelin neighed and trotted away for a moment or two, but soon returned to keep his watch.
"She reminds me of Mírelen, before she gave birth to Legolas," he told her with a smile. "She was uncomfortable and could hardly get any rest. I learned to stop asking her if she was all right."
"What happened?" Tauriel's dimple appeared with her smile.
"She threw a shoe at my head," he grinned. "As awkward as she was, her aim was true; I barely missed getting hit in the eye."
She snickered, then her features softened into an amused smile. "Do you remember those letters you gave me at our first Yule here?" 5
"I do."
"One of them was from the midwife who helped Naneth give birth to me. According to her account, Adar Neldor nearly suffered the same fate as you."
Thranduil's jaw dropped with delighted horror. "Surely not!"
"Apparently, he was squeezing her hand much too tight during the birth. Naneth Solana bit him and ordered him out of the room."
"Oh, dear," he snickered. "But I am sure they were overjoyed when you were born."
"They were, according to the midwife." Tauriel pushed her red locks over her shoulders. "It is wonderful to read about them. Neldor and Solana are no longer shadows of my past, but real people."
"Like the first time Tilda saw her mother's portrait?" 6
"Exactly," she nudged him. "As much as our family means to me, having a window into my past fills a gap I did not know was in me."
A rustling sound to the right drew their attention from Mistanâr and Lasbelin. Thangon was on his back, tongue lolling, as he rolled in the grass and enjoyed a good scratch. This night, however, Thranduil watched him carefully as the big dog let out a soft groan as he struggled to get back on his feet.
"Do you see that?" Tauriel said. "How old is Thangon now?"
"He was six years of age when I sent him to Bard, which would make him…" his shoulders fell slightly in resignation, "ten, now. Even with Elven Healing, we cannot stop him from aging much longer than nature will allow."
"You could talk to Bowen; I am sure he would be willing to have him breed with Beriel again and give you the pick of the litter. It would be a good project for the boys to raise and train the pup. By the time it is old enough Thangon will be ready to retire."
"That is a good plan," he offered her a warm smile before returning his attention to the silver mare in the field. "Tauriel, there is something else I would like to discuss with you."
"Yes," she raised her face to him with a quizzical look.
"I feel I must speak to the Council again about lifting your banishment."
"Ada, we have talked about this," Tauriel lowered her brows as her mouth thinned. "I will not abuse my position as your daughter to bend the rules. The Council gave their verdict, and I intend to follow it to the letter." 7
"But Turamarth is a good friend and I know you want to attend the wedding!"
"I do, very much, but that is not a good enough reason to flaunt your power. I know you forgive me for raising my weapon to you that day, and that is enough. I want to carry out this sentence because it is the right thing to do. And," her gaze fell, "I need to redeem myself in my own eyes. It is not a question of forgiveness," she said quietly. "It is about honor."
The Elvenking shook his head in wonder. "You astonish me with your strength, Gwinïg. Still, Feren and I will go before the Council and demand this be lifted, whether you agree or not."
"But Ada—"
"Please," he raised his hand, "hear me out. Since the attack on Bain and the kidnapping, Feren and I have wondered if it was wise to restrict your movements as protector of Bard's children. What if something happens and you need to take Sigrid or Tilda to the Palace for their own safety?"
"I am permitted to take them to the Main Doors," Tauriel reminded him. 8
"But that is not enough, anymore," Thranduil sighed as he rubbed his forehead. "The Palace is not as safe as we once thought. What if the danger to them is inside those walls? How many years did Saeros live among us? He murdered his own parents, and no one knew!" 9 He swallowed down a surge of anger and said. "Tauriel, I have faith in the Guardians at the Castle, but there is no one Bard or I trust more with the safety of your brother and sisters. We must be sure you can get to them, no matter what the circumstances."
The elleth considered this. "I understand," she said. "If I am completely honest," the corner of her mouth curved in a mischievous smile, "nothing would stop me if I believed Sigrid, Bain or Tilda were in danger."
"Of that I have no doubt," Thranduil said. "But it would be nice if you weren't rewarded by ending up in the dungeons!" He stepped closer, as his voice grew gentle. "Now that that is settled, may I speak with you about something else that has been on my mind?"
"Of course," she said.
He lifted her hand bearing the gold ring. 10 "I am glad you still wear this," he said. "Yet I suspect, when you look at it, you do not just think of Kili." He ran his finger over the smooth, round sapphire. "I do not want to push, but since the day you received that letter from Vildan, you have said nothing." 11
Tauriel grew still, her green eyes lowered, and her long, dark lashes fanned across her cheekbones.
"Gwinïg?" he ventured. "I have tried to respect your privacy, but we are all worried."
For a long time, she said nothing. Then, "He… Of course, he had to go, Ada." If I had been present when the news came of his sister's death, I would have insisted upon it myself. Melui is little more than an infant, and she needs him much more than I do." She shrugged, faking a nonchalance that Thranduil knew she did not feel. "I was that age when I was orphaned. What would have happened had Daeron not heard me cry under that floor that day? I was blessed to grow up with as much love and care as anyone could give me." She lifted earnest eyes and met his blue ones. "My heart hurts for Melui and Vildan, because I understand their pain."
"As do we all, child," he said. "But we are concerned for your pain. How are you?"
Tauriel swallowed and didn't answer, but the tears that filled her eyes told him enough.
"Never mind, child," he gave her hand another squeeze and let it go. "If you ever wish to talk, I am here for you."
They turned back to the pasture and watched the horses in companionable silence. After a few minutes, Tauriel's head turned to him.
"Ada?" her voice was small, hesitant.
"Yes, Gwinïg nîn?"
"Do you think he will write to me?"
"Do you want him to?"
"In some ways I hope he does not, but..." her voice trailed off.
"I sent a letter to Elrond a few weeks ago, asking after him and his niece. Do you want me to share the answer with you when it comes?"
"May I let you know then?" Tauriel's mouth quivered.
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888
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21st of October 2945 T.A.
Thranduil and Tauriel were once again walking in the evening when Mistanâr went into labor. She was brought to her box next to Lasbelin, where Falarion was waiting and ready to attend her. In the early hours of the morning, Mistanâr gave birth to a lovely silver filly, with hair that shimmered like the moon, even as she took her first steps.
The joy of birth deeply moved the Elvenking, and when he and Tauriel returned home and climbed the Grand Staircase to the family's private quarters, he was eager to share the news with his husband.
When they stopped at Tauriel's bedroom door he kissed her cheek. "Get some rest, Gwinïg. I am sure the children will be begging you to take them to see the new filly before breakfast."
He was halfway to the double-doors at the end of the hall when a soft sob made him turn around. He tiptoed back and peered into the room to see Tauriel sitting on her bed, tears streaming down her face.
"Ai, nae, Iellig vuin …" he sat down next to her, gathered her into his arms, and stroked her hair.
"I am happy about the foal, but all I could think was Vildan," she sniffed. "I miss him so very much, Ada. How do I stop wanting something I can never have?"
Thranduil opened his mouth to say something, but what? Another useless platitude that might only sooth her for moment, but in the end does nothing? He stifled a growl of frustration at his own inadequacy. And then…
Into the forefront of his mind came a memory from another time, another plane of existence. A message, perhaps a ray of hope. Was this the right time to reveal it? Thranduil considered for a moment, then made his decision.
"Tauriel?" he leaned back and took her hand. "Do you remember that first winter, when Bard and I almost died?"
Her shoulders shuddered slightly. "How could I forget?"
"And do you remember what I told you about Queen Mírelen?" 12
"Yes." Her blinked up at him, her cheeks and eyelashes wet. "She told you about my parents."
"I did not tell you everything, Gwinïg. Mírelen said something else, and I think it is time to tell you about it."
Her eyebrows drew together as she stared at him. "What is it?"
"Mírelen was concerned for your sorrow, but she also told me that you would eventually marry. One day, you will tell her about Kili, and the memories will make you smile."
"I…" Tauriel caught her lower lip between her teeth. "She said that?"
"She did." he tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear with a small smile. "I have no reason to think she is wrong about this."
"Did she say who?"
"No, but that might be for the best. For now, take comfort; you are not doomed to a life of loneliness. The sun will come out again, and one day it will shine just for you."
Tauriel sniffed and rubbed the heel of her hand over her eyes. "That is a lot to take in, Ada."
"Good; it will keep your mind occupied so you can get some sleep." He rose and pulled her to her feet. "Now," he held her face in his hands and kissed her forehead, "have a good wash and get to bed. I will have Feren arrange the schedule so you can sleep in."
"That is not necessary—"
"That is an order, Captain," he said firmly, and after giving her another hug, he closed her door behind him and went to his bedchamber.
Bard was snoring softly on his side, his arms stretched across the sheets, as if searching in his sleep for his husband. After quietly taking off his clothes and washing away the smell of the barns, Thranduil lifted the covers and slid into bed.
"Mmmm…" Bard hummed as he pulled Thranduil toward him and kissed his hair. "There you are."
"Here I am," he whispered with a contented sigh. "Did you get the rest of the crops in?"
"The last of it's in the silos, and praise Ulmo for another good harvest. Do we have a new filly?"
"She is the image of her mother. Mare and foal are doing fine; the stallion, however, fared about as well as we did at the births of our own children."
The bed shook with muffled laughter for a few moments, then Bard asked, "How did Tauriel handle all that?"
The Elvenking lifted his husband's hand and kissed each of his knuckles. "I think she will be all right, now."
"Another reason to praise the Valar." Bard yawned, smacked his lips and in a few minutes, was softly snoring into the back of the Elvenking's neck.
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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
Ai, nae, Iellig vuin - Oh, no, my beloved daughter
Ai, naergon – Oh, no (lit. "Oh, lament")
In dem anden, Valendillion. De mhaer? – I am sorry for your loss, son of Valendil. Are you all right?"
Mae govanthen, Valendillion – Well met, son of Valendil
Mellonneth nîn – My young friend
Minno - Enter
Ni dem achin – I am sad for you
Nínion adin faergol dhîn – I weep for your grief.
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NOTES:
1 What Makes a King, Ch. 23: /works/10838010/chapters/26526516
2 Broken Wings, Ch. 11: /works/20519588/chapters/50766088
3 Ibid, Ch. 38: /works/20519588/chapters/60050749
4 /wiki/Sun
5 An Invincible Summer, Ch. 33: /works/14127870/chapters/36684912
6 Ibid: /works/14127870/chapters/36684912
7 Ibid, Ch. 21: /works/14127870/chapters/34855688
8 What Makes a King, Ch. 10: /works/10838010/chapters/24938166
9 Broken Wings, Ch. 16: /works/20519588/chapters/51847021
10 Legolas, Ion nîn, Ch. 37: /works/17088320/chapters/47219776
11 Broken Wings, Ch. 38: /works/20519588/chapters/60050749
12 Ibid, Ch. 38: /works/20519588/chapters/60050749
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