Chapter Nine
SUMMARY: So… what's going on in Dale? Let's check in, shall we?
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"Deep within us — no matter who we are — there lives a feeling of wanting to be lovable, of wanting to be the kind of person that others like to be with. And the greatest thing we can do is to let people know that they are loved and capable of loving."
– Fred Rogers
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City of Dale, 14th of December 2945 T.A.
Bard burst into the Royal Bedchamber carrying a tray.
It was a week before Yule, and it was Tilion's custom to let Arien and the Sun rest, while he spends more time shining his Moon down on Middle Earth. 1 The amber glow of the fireplace kept their spacious bedroom from complete darkness, which saved Bard from ramming into the furniture, thus sending their breakfast flying through the air.
Bard padded along the rich thick carpet (a gift from the King of Harad, sent along with a shipment of coffee beans last Yule) and carefully set the tray on Thranduil's bedside table. After lighting the lamp on the sconce above him, he blew out the stick and nudged Thranduil's shoulder. "Wakey-wakey!"
"Mmmmmm…" Thranduil was face-down, away from the Bowman. "Do I have to love you in the morning?"
"You often do," Bard quipped. "Vigorously."
"I meant early in the mornings," he mumbled. "We are Kings; can we not pass a law about this hour?"
"You said, and I quote," Bard's voice dropped to a low baritone, "'Meleth nîn, if I do not get caught up with the end-of-year reports, I will not be able to go to the lodge for our anniversary.'"
"I do not sound like that."
"Yes, you do. Now," Bard pulled the covers off his Elf, admired his magnificent backside for a moment before giving it a hard smack, "up and at 'em!"
"Naeg!" Thranduil yelped and the rubbed pink spot on his right buttock. "Bard!"
"Anyway, I brought you some breakfast."
The Elf lifted his head and sniffed. "Coffee?" he rumbled.
"Adila's finest. Just the way you like it; light to match your hair."
With a longsuffering groan, the King of the Woodland Realm rolled over and dragged himself up to a sitting position, pulling the covers up to his waist. Then he held his hand out and grunted.
Bard handed him his cup. "You're cute when you're grumpy."
"You woke me up in the middle of the night."
"Oh, hardly. It's only five o'clock."
Snorting in disgust, Thranduil took a sip. "What is on the tray?"
"All your favorites: sweet bread with honey butter, some sliced apples, and a bit of that sharp cheese you love. Here, move over." Bard snuggled against him and picked up a plate.
Thranduil shifted to the right, careful not to spill his beverage. "I smell bacon."
"That's my favorite. Now," Bard picked up a slice of bread and spread it with the sweetened butter. He broke off a piece and held it up to his lips. "Come on, open up…"
The Elf clamped his lips together and jerked his head away, his face like a thundercloud.
"Oh, stop being such a big baby. Come on…" he zig-zagged it through the air, "Heeeeere comes the seagull… Whoosh! Whoosh! Heeere it comes…" When Thranduil's mouth went slack, Bard stuffed the morsel in. "There you go; that wasn't so bad, was it."
When the Elf chewed and swallowed it down, he gave Bard a filthy look. "'Whoosh, whoosh?'"
"That's how we got the kids to eat when they were stubborn."
"Did it work?"
"Only with Tilda. Sigrid was too smart to fall for it, and Bain grabbed anything we put in front of him."
"Bain has not changed much."
Bard held up another piece, and Thranduil rolled his eyes and took it.
"Good boy," Bard said, handed him the plate and grabbed his own cup of black coffee.
"I am not a dog, either," Thranduil groused, but ate his meal and emptied his cup.
"You'll thank me, later," Bard leaned over and whispered in his ear, "when we're naked in our bed at the Lodge, fucking each other into exhaustion." He nibbled on the Elf's earlobe, then kissed a trail down his neck.
Thranduil's shoulders relaxed, and he leaned into Bard's ministrations. "And if I do not finish in time?"
"I'll go without you and spend the next four days diddling myself into exhaustion."
"I would love to see that," Thranduil's eyes darkened. "Would you care to give me a demonstration?" He set the cup and empty plate on his table and grabbed the back of his neck for a long, devouring kiss that left them both breathless.
Bard huffed a laugh as he put his hand over Thranduil's crotch and massaged the hardening cock through the blankets. "I see you're… up."
"Yes… I—"
"Good!" Bard patted his thigh and jumped off the bed. "See you downstairs in ten minutes!"
He almost made it to the door before the pillow hit the back of his head.
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An hour later…
"Bard?" Percy stared at him from the doorway. "You're never here this early. What's up, lad?"
Bard lifted his head from the folded arms on his desk. "Thranduil's way behind, and has to go through a mountain of documents, so Galion and Legolas can present them to the Council next week."
"Really?" Percy's brows shot up as he crossed his arms. "I can't imagine what that's like."
"Galion says I'm a bad influence," Bard yawned.
"And you're here because?"
"If I go back to bed, he'll just find an excuse to follow me."
"Well, we can't have that, can we?" Percy went through the doorway that separated their offices, came back with a large stack of papers tied with a red ribbon, and thumped it down in front of the Bowman. "These have been waiting for over a week. Get a move on, kid."
"Aw, come on, Pers—"
"—and if you're not done with this by lunch, I'm telling your Elf on you."
An hour before lunch, Rhian was in the conference room, sorting out the recent bundle of mail that came from the Palace.
"Oh, it came!" Hilda came in.
"Just now," Rhian shuffled through another pile. "I thought I would get this done before I leave for the day."
Hilda tilted her head and studied her. "How is your Tengwar, love?"
"Very good, according to Daeron," Rhian said, baffled.
"If you don't have anything pressing this afternoon, I'd like to ask a favor."
"What do you need?"
"I don't need anything, but Thranduil could use a little help. He's been going at it all day, and he's still surrounded by stacks of stuff. Organizing isn't really his strong suit, Galion's not here, and…" Hilda's lips drew back in an apologetic smile. "If we got someone to look after Darryn this afternoon, would you be willing to lend him a hand?"
"Sure," Rhian said. "Who do you have in mind to babysit?"
"Do you remember Greta's niece?"
"The one that just finished school?"
Aye, I'll see if she's willing, and we'll pay her for her trouble. If she can't, I'm sure one of the guards would keep him busy. Go get him, and you'll have your lunch here, all right, love?"
Luckily, Greta's niece Sylvi was available, and Darryn took to her almost instantly. Greta set up a cot in one of the smaller rooms on the first floor and brought the box of toys and books the Castle kept on hand for small visitors. After kissing her son on the cheek, Rhian left him to play with his new friend, and went to help the Elvenking dig out of the chaos.
After asking several questions, she set up four boxes in Galion's adjoining study and began to sort. Once she was caught up with what Thranduil had already processed, she skimmed over each report, showed him the highlights he needed to see, and if he approved, he would sign, and she would seal it with wax.
Three hours later when they broke for a cup of tea and a snack, Thranduil's eyes swept over the neat, organized piles, waiting to go into their proper boxes. "I think we might just get through all of this by dinner," Thranduil said, "Lady Hilda's praise of you hardly does you justice."
"Thank you, My Lord," Rhian said bashfully, "but I can't take all the credit. Galion taught me a lot when I first started, and I've put it to good use."
"On the contrary," Thranduil picked up another cookie. "Before you came to my Palace that first winter, you had no formal education, though, much like the rest of the Laketown folk, you could read and do sums. Yet within four years, while coping with an infant and caring for a large house, you worked your way through my entire collection of history books on Dale, taught yourself how to do complex math, became fluent in Sindarin and," he gestured to the papers, learned to read Tengwar! Your modesty does you credit, but do not make the mistake of minimizing your accomplishments, child. You have a real thirst for knowledge, and that is not something one can teach."
Awestruck, Rhian could find nothing to say, except a simple, shy, "Thank you, My Lord."
They had just gotten back to work, when Hilda came in with Thranduil's letters, and one for Rhian. "You'll want to see this," she said when she handed it over. "Bard got one, too—ooh, here he comes now!"
The King of Dale entered the study with a lopsided grin. "I've got news."
"What?" the Elf asked.
"This," Bard waved the ecru-colored paper in his hand. "Here."
Thranduil took it and read aloud:
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To Bard, son of Brand,
King of Dale and New Esgaroth,
5th of December 2945 T.A.
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My dear friend,
My highest hopes that this letter finds you and your family well and happy.
It so happens I was in the Golden Wood in late October to visit the Lord and Lady, and they asked me to pass along their best wishes and affection, as did the Marchwarden and both of his brothers.
Last year, Lord Elrond informed me of Rhian Adamarion's unique heritage and the powers the Valar have bestowed upon her.2 He asked me if I would be so kind as to spend several months in Dale to tutor the young Lady, that she will need my help developing and controlling the powers with which the Valar has gifted her. Of course, I was delighted to have that opportunity and was ready to attend her as soon as my schedule would permit, but Elrond wisely suggested that at that time, Rhian was busy with her new marriage, and helping her cousin-in-law.
Though Elrond did not share the details of Turamarth's affliction, I was delighted to see the Captain in Lothlórien, looking hale and happy, especially in the company of Lady Evranin Ohtariel, his betrothed.
With yours, and, of course, Lady Rhian's permission, I would like to come to Dale sometime in the spring, probably in late April—or at least after the heavy rains—and begin her tutoring. Gandalf and Elrond have a great deal of confidence in her abilities and foresee the need for her talents in the future.
If this is not convenient for her or for you, My Lord, you may reach me at the House of Beorn, where I will be spending the cold winter months by his fire.
I am, and ever shall be,
Your most devoted servant,
Radagast
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The Elvenking lowered the paper, and the room became silent as every eye turned to Rhian.
Eyes full of concern, Hilda came to stand next to her and put her hand around her waist. "No one here is going to make you do anything you're not ready for, lovey."
"She's right," Bard's smile was warm. "We can just have Radagast here for a social visit. Or not. Nothing is so important that you risk having a setback." 3
"How do you feel, about this?" Hilda rubbed her back.
Heat crept across Rhian's face. She stared down at the envelope in her hands and recalled all the problems she'd caused last October. 4
Lord Bard knew what she was thinking. "No, darling; don't do that." He grabbed a chair and motioned for Hilda help her sit down. "Nobody blames you for what happened last year."
Maybe they didn't, but the memory of it was excruciating. Thankfully, Elénaril helped her understand that what upset her wasn't what Elrond had told her; it was the terror she felt because she had no say in her destiny. She had felt overpowered, and it brought back the agony of life with her father, with Garth. How she had to hide inside herself just to survive.
But now, she was better. Rhian wanted to repay their kindness and their confidence in her, but it was more than that, now. Over the past months, she'd mulled over Lord Elrond's revelations with a growing curiosity. What if this turns out to be something wonderful, like Daeron's ability to talk to babes in the womb, or to recognize shadows on someone's soul? What if her talent really could, in some small way, help the North succeed?
Her shoulders relaxed, and her stomach calmed down as the tension ebbed away. "I'm fine, really I am," Rhian gave them an appreciative smile. "I'll need to talk to Daeron about it first, but I'd like to do this."
"That's our girl!" Hilda hugged her side.
Lord Thranduil tilted his head as a pleased smile spread across his face. "It takes a great deal of courage to become the woman the Valar knows you can be. I am very proud of you."
"We all are," Bard agreed, as he patted her hand.
"Just one thing," Hilda put her hands on her hips and glared at the Kings. "I don't care how you boys do it, but that Wizard will not set foot in this Castle with a head full of bird shit!"
Rhian smiled at Hilda's decree for the next two hours. It was then that Lord Thranduil glanced at the water clock and wrinkled his forehead.
"Is that the time?" he exclaimed. "You should go, Rhian; I can manage from here."
"Are you sure?" she asked.
The Elvenking waved his hand dismissively. "Thanks to you, I will be finished today, which will make my husband very happy. You have done enough, and your son must be anxious to see his Nana."
She set down a small stack for him to sign. "Thank you, My Lord."
"No; thank you. Enjoy your evening."
Rhian tiptoed into the Blue Receiving room to find her son still taking his afternoon nap, and Sylvi sitting in a nearby chair, reading. The girl had the same light brown hair as her Auntie Greta, though no streaks of grey. Both had lovely dark eyes, prominent cheekbones, and a patient smile.
"How was he?"
"He was very good," Sylvi told her eagerly. "Thanks for warning me that he likes to fight sleep."
Rhian made an apologetic face. "How did you settle him down?"
"My Mam and Da used to sing me silly songs at night. Darryn especially loved 'Slippery Toad.'"
Rhian giggled softly. "I always liked 'Little Boats.' Did he tell you he's been learning some new songs in his nursery school?"
"Oh, aye," Sylvi's brown eyes danced. "He's a wonderful little boy."
"Thank you," Rhian sat down on the other cushioned chair. "I was wondering; are you looking for a permanent job?"
"You mean, here at the Castle?"
"No, although I do appreciate today on such short notice. My problem is that our cousin used to live with us—do you remember Turamarth?"
The young girl nodded with a dreamy sigh. "Elves are so handsome!"
"They really are." Rhian's mouth twitched.
"Turamarth's away for a year, right?"
"Aye, he's betrothed to an Elleth there, and when he comes back, he's going to be setting up a home with his new wife."
"Oh, that's so romantic!" Sylvi clasped her hands together.
"He deserves to be happy," Rhian kept her tone neutral. Anyway, Tur was a big help, but since he left, I can hardly keep up with the cooking the cleaning, the marketing, and taking care of Darryn. Daeron helps when he can, but he gets called away to deliver a baby at the drop of a hat, so…" she spread her hands. "Your Aunt tells me you're a hard worker, and we'll pay you a fair wage."
The girl beamed. "I'd like that very much!"
"I'll need to talk to Daeron, but he'll agree to anything that gets him out of housework," Rhian winked. "I should warn you; he's a real slob!"
It was well past dark when Thranduil screwed the lid on his jar of ink with a particular satisfaction, dripped the green wax beside his signature of the very last report in the pile, and if he pressed his seal a little too hard, no one could blame him. He threw the last document into the wooden box, slammed the lid, and used the Thurinlach to ensure that none but Legolas or Galion would be able to open it.
They were welcome to its contents; had no desire to see them again.
Ai gorgor, what time was it? He'd forgotten to look when he locked up his study and wearily headed up the Grand Staircase. At the top, the family quarters were dark and quiet, but for the soft light coming from the double-doors at the end of the hall.
Bard was seated on his comfortable chair by the fireplace. His green robe was open due to the warmth of the fire, revealing his loose, cambric shirt and soft cotton pants. On his feet were the thick grey socks Sigrid had made him last year. The sight of Bard always stirred him, whether he was dressed in his full armor and circlet, his silk robes when he held court, or his everyday tunics and leggings, or even fully naked in bed.
But when his Bowman was completely relaxed, the lines of tension gone from his face and giving off an air of complete contentment, this was when his Meleth was the most beautiful.
Bard's eyes lifted from the page and gave him a sympathetic smile. "You look tired."
"I am," Thranduil shook his head "I would rather face down a dozen Orcs than sit and read those reports for an hour, let alone all day."
"Not a fair comparison," Bard's mouth twitched, as he rose to greet him. "You'd enjoy facing down a dozen Orcs. Why do you do this to yourself every year?"
"I did not, until I married you."
"So, it's my fault?" Bard leaned into him for a kiss.
"Not in a bad way. Before I fell in love with you, work was all I had to fill my days," he leaned his head against Bard's hair. "Now, I have things more important to me than Kingship. I take the time to have meals with our family; I love to help Sigrid with her anatomy drawings, or play Dagornaw with Bain. I treasure my evening walks with Tauriel…"
"And your walks with a certain little girl to school and back?" Bard smiled.
"Not so little anymore," he swallowed. "But yes. I hate feeling like Tilda is somehow slipping through my fingers, but I try to remember your advice, and to 'meet her where she is at.'" 5
"Does it help?"
"Sometimes." Thranduil took Bard's hand, kissed his knuckles, and led him over to the bed. After they both undressed and crawled under the covers, he snuggled into Bard and lay his head on his shoulder. "Would you believe I miss her crawling in bed with us at night?" he chuckled "She was a menace!" 6 He lifted his head and met Bard's warm eyes. "Perhaps I see my time with Tilda as a way to make up for what I missed with Legolas."
"Well, now that he's back," Bard's eyes twinkled, "I'm sure he wouldn't mind you scooping him up and smothering his face with kisses."
His reply was to grab Bard's nipple and pinch it, hard.
"Hey!" he yelped. "I thought you were too pooped to play!"
"I am," he sighed, and settled back down. "Tell me what I missed today."
"I have good news, and bad news. What do you want first?"
"The good."
"Everything is ready for us to leave," Bard stifled a yawn. "All we have to do tomorrow morning is get on our horses and go."
"Oh, that sounds wonderful," he sighed into his Bowman. "And the bad news?"
"Do you remember that group that came to Dale last year?" 7
"Vaguely. My recollections of that day are hazy…"
"Me, too. I think Gandalf put some sort of whammy on us."
"I recall your singing. The dogs howled and the Elves' ears nearly bled."
"I wasn't that bad," Bard pouted.
"Yes, you were," he grabbed Bard's other nipple.
"All right, all right!" Bard flinched with a soft laugh. "I know you remember us marrying that older couple. Luther and Maude? Elrond said she was sick, so we let them stay?" 8
"Yes," Thranduil smiled. "I ran into them in the Marketplace a few times. What about them?"
"Well," Bard's chest rose and fell. "Hilda got word that Maude passed away last night."
"Û, nae!" Thranduil lifted his head again. "Was she not treated for her illness?"
"Her blood sickness was cured, but it took its toll on her body, which was already past eighty years old. Ermon said she passed peacefully in her sleep."
"How is her husband?"
"Sad, but grateful for the extra time they had. Hilda ran over just after lunch, and the Dale Women's Society had the place cleaned from top to bottom with enough food to last a month."
"When is the funeral?"
"Tomorrow." Bard lifted his chin. "And no; we don't need to cancel our holiday. Luther only wants a small gathering of close friends. We'll pay him a visit after we get back."
"Is it terrible that I am relieved?"
"No. The focus should be on Maude and Luther, not us. Hilda wants to talk him into moving into the Elder House, so he won't be alone."
"No one should be that alone…" Thranduil rubbed circles in Bard's chest. "Percy once told me that, when an elderly couple has been together a long time, the widowed one usually dies soon after their spouse. They become so much a part of each other that they can't survive it."
"That's true."
"It is not unlike fading, is it?"
"I suppose it is," Bard gently kissed the top of his head.
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888
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The Woodland Realm, 16th of December 2945 T.A.
"In your study you are my liege-lord," Mablung quipped, "but out here, I still outrank you."
"Ma, Hîr," Legolas grinned.
It wasn't often the Prince and the Lt. Commander had an afternoon off at the same time, so they decided to enjoy the clear, crisp day riding in the woods. Legolas had always admired the older Ellon, and when he was first promoted to the Woodland Guardians, it was Mablung who had been assigned as his Saelor.9
"It has been over a year since you returned, Mellon," Mablung said, his tone pointedly casual. "How do you feel about being home, now?"
"It is like home, as you said, but not any home I have ever had," Legolas answered, a bit shy.
"But?"
"What do you mean?"
"Legolas, even good changes require an adjustment. That is natural; you left under a cloud of turmoil with your father and Tauriel. Since that time, everyone's priorities have changed, have they not?"
Above them, three snow geese merrily honked their way across the sky, the black tips of their wings a sharp contrast to their white bodies, as they, too enjoyed the sunshine.
"You mean Bard and the children."
"And the fact that your father is based in Dale for the next few decades, while you are running things here."
"But I volunteered to do that!"
"Exactly. Did you do it to help your father, or did you do it to have an excuse to avoid him?"
Legolas was shocked at the truth of Mablung's words. "I… never thought about it that way."
"It is not a bad thing if you did," Mablung shrugged, as he eased his gelding around a large tree. "And?"
He blew out a long breath. "It is not that I do not want to be around Ada, or that I am jealous. Bard is a good friend to me, and the children have gone out of their way to make me feel at home. Tauriel and I are closer than we ever were."
"And?" Mablung's eyebrow lifted, waiting.
"They are a close-knit group, and they enjoy it. Even Galion has blended in effortlessly. Ada is a different person now. He expresses his thoughts and feelings; he is affectionate and tactile…"
"And you need time and space to get to know this newer, better Adar?"
"Exactly!" Legolas said, relieved. "After a lifetime of barely speaking, I suddenly wake up in Lothlórien to find Ada crying and telling me he loves me and…"
"Hanging all over you?" Mablung tucked in his lips.
"Yes!"
Mablung burst out laughing, and, after a moment, Legolas joined in.
"I am happy; really, I am," he said, "but I think Ada feels the need to make it up to me. I love him for it, but I would rather just let it go and move on."
"And now that you have figured this out?"
Legolas rolled his eyes. "I will tell him. Can we change the subject? Please?"
"Certainly. How did you like Imladris?"
"It was as beautiful as the Golden Wood, but in a different way. I made friends, and I learned a great deal serving under Glorfindel."
"As did I," Mablung said.
"How did you find Imladris?"
"I enjoyed the milder weather and the artistic atmosphere, but my home is here, and I was glad to return." Mablung's tone grew serious. "I… considered Narseg a friend, and had the pleasure of dining with his family on a few occasions. His wife and daughter were wonderful."
"They were a beautiful family." Legolas's eyes fell, and his voice grew quiet. "Were you there when they brought the bodies back?"
The Lt. Commander's face wrinkled in pain, as he gave a small nod.
"How did Melui manage the funeral?"
"She was not there. A week or so before their bodies were brought to Imladris, Lord Elrond brought Melui and Laniër to his Halls, and they had not been seen since."
"Laniër?" Legolas's eyes widened in surprise. "Was she hurt, as well?"
"Not that I know of. Apparently, she was looking after Melui while her parents were away," Mablung said. "After the funeral, I spoke to her cousin Lusiël to express my condolences, and she told me Laniër volunteered to keep caring for the child."
"Tauriel was also orphaned at a young age, yet she was happy at the Palace. I think Melui will thrive with Vildan."
That is my prayer, as well."
"I remember Lusiël and Laniër," Legolas recalled. "They are quite beautiful."
"They are indeed," Mablung said, slightly wistful. "Lusiël was charming and clever, but I have to admit I was drawn to Laniër."
"Really?" Legolas's brows shot up in curiosity.
"Why not?" he rolled one shoulder in nonchalance. "I flirted with her on a few occasions, but I got the sense that her affections lay elsewhere."
"Who?"
"No one there, at least at the time. It occurred to me she might have been waiting for one of the Vanguard to finish his exchange year."
"Who? Rahlen? One of the Twins?"
"I have no idea," Mablung clicked his tongue and urged his horse to a trot, "but whoever he is, he is a lucky Ellon."
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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
Dagornaw – means literally "Battle Plan." In Westron, it is called "Stratagem" which is basically Chess.
Ma, Hîr – Yes, Sir
Saelyr - Advisors
Thurinlach – A spell an Elf places to ensure only the intended recipient will receive some sort of message. It can be placed over a box, or over a seal.
Û, nae! – Alas, it cannot be!
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NOTES:
1 /wiki/Yuletide, /wiki/Sun, /wiki/Moon,
2 Legolas, Ion nîn; Ch. 43: /works/17088320/chapters/48543257
3 Broken Wings; Ch. 6: /works/20519588/chapters/49342766
4 Ibid.; Ch. 5: /works/20519588/chapters/49202357
5 Ibid.; Ch. 1: /works/20519588/chapters/48700067
6 And Winter Came…; Ch. 43: /works/12026709/chapters/34940987
7 Two Thrones ComiCon 2019 (Or, What Happens When Gandalf Gets Behind the Wheel...); /works/21946684/chapters/52377106
8 Ibid.; Ch. 5: /works/21946684/chapters/53362405
9 The Saelyr were been the brainchild of Glorfindel of Rivendell, as a way to help those that made up Elrond's Vanguard, cope with not only the additional responsibility of their position, but the violence they had to face. Just after King Thranduil took the throne in the year 3 T.A., after all the horrors his Army had been forced to endure during the War, wanted the additional support for his officers. These older, more experienced advisors provided a listening ear, and a little discreet advice. For this reason, The Woodland Army chose to assign Saelyr from outside the individual's unit, which Feren and Thranduil agreed would encourage his Elves to seek out their advice.
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