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Summary:

Ab i maeth means "after the battle," and we have folks on both sides of the Misty Mountains who have had a horrible day.

What happened after the sons of Elrond nearly blew themselves up?

What happened after the Royal Family of Dale were forced to say goodbye to one of their own, while still reeling from an attack, a murder, and an attempted kidnapping?

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"Remember me and smile, for it's better to forget than to remember me and cry."

― Dr. Seuss

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Rivendell, 5th of March 2946 T.A.

It warmed Elladan's heart that his brother's first instinct was to protect him from the explosion. Elrohir had always been more inclined to react physically, while his own would be to stand there and ask why. There was no question that, in this case, his pensive nature and his tendency to wax philosophical would have singed off his hair, and while he was grateful for his dear brother's quick action, that didn't mean Elladan appreciated having his face smashed into the ground with such violence.

He also suspected Elrohir enjoyed it, at least a little, and refused to give him the satisfaction of moaning about rock that had made contact with his nose and would surely leave a mark.

Elladan closed his eyes against the low, deep, boom that made the ground shake underneath him, and the solid wall of heat that slammed into them.

Both dissipated almost as soon as they began, but the resulting silence was broken by another low, deep, boom.

"What in the world do you two think you're doing?" it said—though it wasn't an "it" at all, but the voice of an incredibly angry Wizard.

"Will you get off me?" Elladan pushed up and flung his brother from his back and sat on his heels, rubbing his sore nose. "Mithrandir?"

"What are you doing here?" Elrohir rolled over and gracefully got to his feet.

"What is wrong with the two of you?" Eyes like daggers glowered beneath low, angry brows of bushy grey. "Do you have any idea what would have happened if I hadn't come along when I did?"

Elladan was dumbfounded. "We—"

"Of course, you don't! And you can thank him," indicating a certain familiar falcon of their acquaintance, who was perched on a branch ten feet away, "for saving your hides!"

"Lagrôval? What does he have to do with any of this?" Elrohir gaped in astonishment, and turned to Elladan. "You said he was watching over the child."

"Well, he was!" Elladan sputtered. "We both saw him!"

"Do not shout at me; I am not the one yelling at us!" Elrohir retorted, before he turned to face the wizard. "And you should not be yelling at us, either! Do you have any idea what has happened here today? Lusiël used magic to overpower not only our father, but his entire household, she tried to kill my brother, she did kill three people! And did you also know that a good friend of ours is now permanently paralyzed?"

"Of course, I do!" What was visible underneath Mithrandir's brows and beard turned dark. "Why do you think I flew all the way here in such a rush? I came to save you idiots!"

"And we appreciate it!" Elrohir clenched his fists and stomped his foot. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome!" the Wizard roared at the top of his lungs. "It would break my heart if you were killed, though Valar knows why!"

"Then why are you shou—" Elrohir scrunched his nose and fluttered his eyelashes. "Wait, what?"

"What, what?"

Elladan silenced his brother with a sharp jab in the ribs. "Are you two finished? We have more important things to do."

"Too right we have." The Wizard stepped over to the fire, whose flames were so bright that Elladan held up his hand to shield his eyes. With a wave of his staff and spell, the flames leaped several times their former height,

"Get over here!" he ordered. "It's time!"

The twins stepped closer as the wizard waved his staff and guided the smoke into a dark angry spiral cloud, which was made up of small, angry particles, still fighting for life. The three of them sang their praises in Quenya were a strangely beautiful swarm of fireflies before dying in the heat. The fire burned naturally after that until it left nothing but a pile of black, smoking ash.

And a completely intact silver-and-emerald necklace.

"That is not a good sign," Elladan murmured.

"No, it isn't," Mithrandir said. "But I sense nothing coming from it, do you?"

The brothers dared a couple steps forward. The creepy pulse that had sent a chill up and down Elladan's spine was gone. "It seems benevolent enough."

"I agree, but we will take no chances." The Wizard lowered his staff, hooked the necklace on one of the crooked spines at the end and flung it into the air. Lagrôval flew into the air, caught it in his beak and, spreading his wings took flight and disappeared.

"Where is he going with it?"

"To a safe place. Let's go sit down for a minute." Mithrandir, who could be as gentle as he was acerbic guided them to a group of boulders where they took their seats. "I need a moment to collect myself.

"Mithrandir," Elrohir rubbed his palms against his leggings, "you must tell us how you came to be here!"

"That is simple. Elrond sent your falcon to Gondor with news, and when I asked—Lagrôval, is it?"

"Yes," Elladan said stupidly. "That is the name Meássë gave him."

"Well, he may answer to that, but that is not his true name," a smirk hinted at the corner of Mithrandir's mouth. "At any rate, the falcon had a lot more to say about the goings on here than what was included in the letter, and it seemed prudent to ask Lord Gwaihir to carry me here with all speed." Mithrandir gave them a pained look. "I came too late to prevent disaster, and for that, I am sorry."

"I am confused," Elladan ran his hand over his jaw.

"You look it. You also have soot all over your chin." Elrohir pulled out a kerchief and handed it to him before he addressed Mithrandir. "I share his puzzlement, Mithrandir. When Lagrôval showed up at the Ford, we thought he was there to look after Melui."

"He was. He will. As of now, he has been assigned as one of Melui's protectors."

"So, I was right!" Elladan nudged his brother. "There is something special about the child, yes?"

"Well, there won't be if you two keep blabbing all over Middle Earth about it!"

"I did not say anything!" Elrohir said, offended.

"Never mind," Elladan rolled his eyes toward the heavens. "How did you know to find us here?"

"When Lagrôval realized what the two of you were up to, he became worried and flew off to find me," the Wizard explained. "I was almost to Rivendell when Lagrôval intercepted me two hours ago, and told me of your hair-brained scheme, and praise Varda he did; a minute or two later, and the both of you would have had more trouble than even your father could get you out of!"

"What were we supposed to do?" Elladan's jaw tightened as did his stomach. "We had no idea you were on your way, and we had to retrieve Lusiël's body one way or another!" he glared angrily at Mithrandir. "Our father was busy with Vildan and the child; Glorfindel was with Estel, as he should have been! Would you have us send anyone less gifted than ourselves to make sure no instrument of…was involved? If you have a better plan as to what we should have done, I would love to hear it!"

The wizard remained silent, his face unreadable as he studied first Elladan's face, then his brother's. For a moment, Elladan feared he had said too much and was about to be turned into a tree stump or some such thing, but once the scrutiny was finished, Mithrandir seemed to be satisfied with what he found. "At least the two of you are unscathed from this, praise Elbereth," he said quietly. "I have no idea how I would have explained it to your father had I found you..."

Mithrandir didn't finish his sentence.

"Meaning," Elrohir answered in an equally subdued manner, "if you had found us thus overpowered and enthralled," "destroying our fleshly bodies before we could do harm would have been a kindness, and our fëas would thank you when we were reunited."

"All true," the wizard smiled sadly, heaving a sigh. "But, as I said, it would have broken my heart."

"As it did mine," A tendril of sorrow wound its way through Elladan's insides and squeezed. "I had considered Lusiël a friend for all my life, yet when the river had killed her, all I could think was how glad I was that I didn't have to do it."

"We can take comfort in the knowledge that Lusiël's fëa is free, now," Elrohir said gently.

"Yes," Elladan's throat contracted painfully. "So now you see why we would not allow others to take that risk?"

"I do," the wizard said. "Now we just need to figure out how she was enslaved in the first place."

"It was the necklace." Elladan swallowed and cleared his throat. "You should know that, like Saeros's ring, it only appeared after Lusiël was dead." [1]

"That much I surmised, though there is something…different about it, and that worries me."

"You should also know that it is the very same one that hung around our mother's neck the day she left for Lothlórien to visit our grandparents. When we found her," his gaze fell and focused on the dead leaves at his feet, "she had lost all her jewelry."

The Wizard eyes bulged slightly but his countenance remained calm. "That is…unexpected news. Do you recall if Lusiël was with your mother on that fateful trip?"

Elrohir nodded. "She and almost all of Naneth's handmaidens were found almost immediately, although they had been separated."

"Almost?"

"According to reports, Lusiël was found almost four days later. What do you think—" Elladan began, the stern shake of Mithrandir's head silenced him.

"I have no idea," the wizard jumped up and shook out his robes, "but I think it best this subject be confined to the safety of your father's study. We must make haste. Elladan, I'm taking your horse; you can ride with your brother back to Rivendell."

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888

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City of Dale, 5th of March 2946 T.A.

After everyone said their final farewells to Thangon, Thranduil gently ushered the others to the door of their bedchamber. "I know you do not feel much like it, but Cook and Greta have laid out some supper in the dining room, and I would like you all to try and eat something."

"I'm not hungry," Tilda said, sniffling. Sigrid put her arm around her sister's shoulders and whispered some encouragement as they left the room.

"I should be getting home," Bowen said, as Tauriel herded him in the same direction along with Bain and Rhys. "Daffyd and Anna will be worried."

"They already know, son," Percy said. His arm rested on Hilda's the small of Hilda's back as she buried her nose in a handkerchief. "Let me get one of the guards to walk you home."

"Thanks," Bowen mumbled in the direction of the carpet and shuffled out ahead of them.

"Rhys, your Da and Lord Percy will be working well into the night," Hilda swallowed and folded her kerchief, "so we've arranged for a room for the both of you to stay."

"Okay," Rhys said. "Where is Da now?"

"In his study, but you boys go get some food…" The voices grew faint as the group headed down the hall.

Thranduil shut the bedchamber doors and took his husband in his arms. Bard buried his face in his neck, leaning heavily into him, needing the shelter and comfort the Elvenking offered.

"He was my friend."

"He was the best of friends," Thranduil whispered.

Bard's chest expanded and contracted against him in a long, slow sigh. "We can't leave him here, especially so close to the fire."

"No, we cannot," Thranduil kissed his hair and rested his cheek against the Bowman's head. "Where would you like to bury him?"

"Out in the Castle Gardens. We'll bury him tonight, then maybe have a little service later."

"He would like that, I think."

"Nothing fancy, mind you, but he deserves something."

"Yes, he does."

"We'll figure out a good time, but it can't be for at least a few days; I know we talked about waiting to hold court, but you know I can't."

"I do. Feren sent word to Mablung to inform the families, and I must escort Voron's body back to the Palace for the funeral there." Thranduil rubbed Bard's back. "Legolas will be escorting Amrol and Haden's families to Dale tomorrow." After a moment's hesitation, Thranduil added. "Daeron sent over a litter so we can get Thangon downstairs."

"Good," Bard lifted his head and stepped out of Thranduil's arms, and both turned to gaze upon Thangon. "He looks peaceful, doesn't he?" Without waiting for an answer, he went to the hearth and squatted down to scratch his head. "I want his bed buried with him."

It was the Kings who carried Thangon out to the Garden. Although Bard insisted he wanted to do it alone, Thranduil remained with him, insisting he needed someone to hold the torch. Bard pretended to be irritated about it, and Thranduil pretended he didn't see the tears flowing freely from his Bowman's eyes.

"It is going to rain, again," he told Bard. "It is just as well we wait for any sort of ceremony. Sigrid needs to arrange for the day off, and Galion and Legolas will want to be here."

Bard wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "They would?"

He lifted a dark brow. "Why are you surprised?"

"Well, I mean…" the Bowman struggled for words. "Thangon wasn't an Elf, or even a man—"

"He was a member of our family, Meleth nîn. And you are in pain. Families support each other, yes?" the Elvenking assured him as a smile pulled at his lips. "It was you who taught me that."

"That's…" In the shadow of the torch light, his Bard's throat bobbed several times. "That would be...good."

"Da?"

The Kings turned to see Bain's face emerge from the darkness, biting his lip for a moment, before straightening his shoulders and saying, "I want to help, Da; I loved him, too."

Thranduil tilted his head and regarded the boy who was at the cusp of his manhood, still unsure, yet the desire to serve and lead blazed in his eyes. And, not for the first time, the Elvenking saw all the seeds they had planted in him about character, integrity and kingship had taken root, still green and new, but would not be for long. He glanced over at his husband, who had seen it, too.

"Of course, you can help, Ion nin. Let your Da have a rest." Thranduil grabbed Bard's hand, pulled him out of the still-too shallow grave, and handed him the torch. "Take your time; I will see you inside."

He did not follow the path to the entrance where Rôgon's beautiful gate hung, but rather he went the opposite way around and used the back passage into the kitchens.

"Oi, My Lord!" Lewis nearly dropped his cup on the table, where a pot of tea was sitting, steam curling out from its spout. "You startled me!"

"My apologies," Thranduil winced. "I should have realized that the events of today would make everyone jumpy. I do not mean to intrude, but I needed a few moments of quiet."

"I don't blame you," the Cook sighed. "It's been a hard, sad day."

"Do you know if the children ate?"

"They did, though Hilda had to nag at them, a bit. Tauriel wanted to get back down to the stables to look after her beasts, so I sent her off with a bag of sandwiches for her and all the rest of the gang." Lewis eye him skeptically. "I wanted to make sure you and Lord Bard had a good supper." He jerked his head toward a couple of covered plates on the sideboard. "The two of you've got a lot to deal with the next couple of weeks, and you'll need your strength."

The Elvenking was touched. "You are most kind."

"It's not so much kindness, really," Cook winked. "Since no one else wants your jobs, it makes sense to keep you on your feet."

Thranduil chuckled softly. "Percy says that, too."

"Where do you think he heard it from?" Lewis set his napkin on the table and rose to get another cup. "Will you join me, My Lord?"

Thranduil was tempted. "The tea smells wonderful."

"It's a blend I've been working on. Go on, sit; you look like you could use it. They told me the young lad was headed out to the garden to join you."

"I felt it best to let them alone." He took a cookie from the plate Lewis pushed toward him. "Bain loved Thangon, too."

"We all did, though Greta and her girls liked raised a fuss when he tracked mud all over their clean floors!" Lewis grinned, his eyes drifted off into memory. "Aye but he was a character, wasn't he? I remember that day at the beginning of the Long Winter… You could've heard a pin drop when Feren brought him into the Great Hall for the first time… Scared the shit out of us, he did, he was so damned big." Lewis shrugged with a chuckle. "Course it only took ten minutes for us to see that he was just a dopey buffoon who wouldn't harm a hair on our heads."

"Well," the Elvenking tilted his head with a small smile. "That is not entirely true."

"Oh, I know. He was a real hero, wasn't he?"

"He was," Thranduil agreed. "We could not have saved the hostages without him."

"No, you couldn't. Dwalin and his boys couldn't get over how he put the fear of Mordor into those fellas in the dungeon, and praise the Stars, you brought them all home."

"That," the Elvenking said quietly, "was another hard, sad day."

"That it was. Rod told me later that King Daín sent everyone in the Market enough coin to make sure that every time that dog trotted around we could spare a good cut of meat, or bread or any such treat. Why do you think the girls at the fabric shop always seemed to have a plate of ham on hand? That was his favorite."

"He did that?"

"Thing is," Lewis continued, "Thangon was more of a friend to us than you know." Lewis got up again, rummaged around in the cupboard and brought out another bottle, and poured a little of it into each of their cups. "May I tell you something in confidence?"

"Of course."

"I started that Long Winter with nothing to live for. My parents were dead, and my sister died in the fires, and so did the woman I loved."

How long had Lewis lived with them, yet he knew almost nothing about him? "My condolences."

Lewis shrugged. "A lot of people lost loved ones. Grayce, my sweetheart, married someone else. Not because she didn't love me, mind you. I had no way to support her, and this lad had money and a good position. In Laketown, that meant he was so far up the Master's arse that it's a wonder that he didn't cough him up!

"I was the one who convinced her to marry him. Her Mam and Da died two winters before, and the Master took stole her house out from underneath her. She needed a home, and food in her belly, and all I could afford was a spare room I rented from Mistress Bronwyn's old uncle. Even that was paid off mostly in trade; I kept up repairs, did most of the cooking, and kept him company."

"Where is this uncle now?"

"Dead," Lewis leaned back and stared at his cup, absently running his thumb along the curve of its handle. "It was the dragon, but not by fire; his heart gave out as I was trying to get him to the boats."

"Ai, gorgor…" This time it was Thranduil who poured the liquor into their cups.

"Thanks," Lewis took a long pull of his drink. "I remember thinking how soldiers could watch a good friend die, then leave him right there in his own blood while you get up and keep fighting. It hurts your heart to do that, doesn't it?"

"You..." Thranduil swallowed, "are not mistaken."

Lewis huffed a sad laugh. "The day of the Battle, I learned that for myself, didn't I? Anyway, Grayce was dead, the old man was dead, almost all my friends were dead, and I had no real reason to go on, yet there I was in the Great Hall with all those other men and Elves. 'I'll just work for a couple of weeks,' I told myself. I was going to wait until the winter was at its worst, sneak out of Great Hall at night and find someplace in the ruins to take off my clothes and wait for the cold to put me to sleep."

"What happened?"

"Thangon happened. I never made it out the door. I can't tell you how, but that dog knew, and damned if he wouldn't stop pestering and pawing at me until I gave up." Lewis's eyes grew misty. "Everybody thinks Thangon hung around me because I worked in the kitchens, that he was only interested in the food, but that wasn't true. Well, it was partly true," he sniffed with a laugh. "He was always there to cheer me up, until I decided to keep going and see how all this," he waved his hand around the room, "worked out."

"I am glad you did."

"Oh, aye. And look at me now! I met and married the finest woman in the world, I have a job I love, and I work for quality people. Greta is Bronwyn's cousin; did you know that? She grew up in one of those villages your people always looked after, and when Bronwyn wrote and told her Lord Bard would be needing to set up a proper household, she came."

"I remember."

"She's the best wife a fella could ever wish for, and I wouldn't have any of this if it weren't for that dog you sent to Lord Bard. I'll tell you something else," he lifted his brown eyes to meet the Elvenking's. "I wasn't the only one who almost didn't make it that winter."

"How do you know this?"

"No one really said so," Lewis rubbed his chin, "but when you've been through it, you just kind of know, don't you? It's like, you can smell that kind of pain in somebody else, you know what I mean?"

"Yes," Thranduil said quietly, studying the contents of his cup. "I do."

"You can just tell," the Man nodded. "After Thangon started getting after me, I started watching him. There were four or five others who had that same kind of despair in their eyes. I won't tell you names, 'cause they all seem good now, but I watched that dog through that window in the kitchen, and damned if he didn't sit with the those fellas at meals, and by their bunks, and pester the living daylights out of them until they felt better." Lewis pulled his red handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose. "I don't know much about those kinds of dogs, My Lord," he said roughly, "or how you Elves breed them back home, but Thangon was something special. He really was."

"He was exceptional," Thranduil blinked back tears as he took a swig of his drink. "Thank you for telling me this."

"Thanks for listening. Now, I'm gonna beg your pardon for my impertinence, and I know Lord Bard won't be wanting any sort of grand fuss, but I'll tell you straight: there's lots of people in Dale who have stories they want to tell about that dog, and it'll do your family a world of good to hear 'em."

"You have a good point," The Elvenking pushed himself up to stand. "I thank you for all this," he picked up the tray of food and drink, "I can take this up myself," he said, over Cook's protest. "Now please, get some rest."

"Aye, My Lord," Lewis bowed his head. "Good night."

After appointing one of the guards to escort Cook back to his rooms behind the Great Hall, the Elvenking silently climbed the Grand Staircase. After placing the tray in the Royal Bedchamber, he went back out and checked on the rest of the family. Percy and Hilda's door was closed and there was no strip of light underneath it, which was a good sign; though they loved to deny it, neither of them was young. The Steward's arthritis always bothered him in the damp of early spring. Daeron had begun to check Hilda's heart as a matter of routine whenever he came to the Castle. Tilda's room was dark, but he crept in, made sure she was covered and, after stroking her dark hair, kissed her brow and left.

Tauriel's door was opened slightly. She was sitting by her fireplace, in her favorite ivory robe, and her thick red hair was fashioned into a braid that draped across her shoulder. Farien was in her lap, purring, and kneading the soft fabric.

"How do you fare, Gwinïg?"

"I do not know, just yet," she shrugged. "Mistanâr and Trastapîn are back in the stables—thank you for the extra guards, Ada—and Lasbelin hardly lets them out of his sight."

"How do they fare?"

Tauriel mouth formed a thin, angry line. "The foal was not physically harmed, but as yet, she will allow no one other than her mother or father to touch her. She used to be affectionate with me, but she shrinks away now."

"Hopefully, that will pass, with time," Thranduil said. "My concern is that the Mearas cannot spend their entire lives safe in the stables; they need to be outside for grass and fresh air."

"I doubt the other horses would allow any harm to come to them," Tauriel met his eyes. "I did not imagine that did I?"

"No, you did not, and that is another matter we need to investigate. There is more to Mistanâr and her foal than meets the eye, and I will write to Elrond in the morning."

"If that's true, Vildan should have told me." Her tone was sharp and bitter. "We could have taken better precautions."

"Tauriel, you know how much he loved his horse. I am sure if he knew anything, he would have said, especially when he discovered he had to leave. I am also sure," he reached forward and grasped her hand between his, "that Vildan would not want you to blame yourself."

"Yet I do," her chin quivered. "Lasbelin tried to tell me, and I did not listen. Bofur was the one who convinced me of the danger, but I am a soldier; a Guardian, and I should have been prepared! It should have occurred to me that word of such a unique animal would spread around the area."

"Then we are both to blame, for I did not foresee it either." Thranduil patted her hand. "Yet, all we can do is learn and go on. To that end, I plan to send for several dogs to accompany the herd while they are in the pastures, and to remain in the stables at night. This will not happen again; I promise you."

He leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Get some sleep, child. Tomorrow is another day, and it is going to be a long one."

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888

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6th of March 2946 T.A.

Bard quietly entered the bedchamber in the early hours of the morning. After turning up the lamp, Thranduil rolled over and sat up against the headboard to wait while the Bowman went to the privy and washed.

"I thought you'd be asleep," Bard said when he came to the bed and slid off his leggings.

"I will, after I've looked after you," he said. "There is food. Are you hungry?"

"I am, but not for that, just yet." Bard lifted the covers, slid in beside him and reached for him. "I need this more."

Thranduil tasted the salt of tears in their kisses, which started soft and slow, but grew in urgency as Bard ran his hands over the Elvenking's back and slid underneath his pajama bottoms. Fingers dug into his buttocks to press his hips against Bard's hard length, soon to be accompanied by his own arousal. They ground together with soft moans, and open mouths breathing each other's air until Thranduil gasped and said, "Please, Meleth nîn, I need you inside me."

"I need to be inside you, love," Bard soft voice wavered.

After another deep kiss, Thranduil shed the rest of his clothes, grabbed the oil, and straddled him. "What do you want, Hervenn?"

"I want to watch you get yourself ready," Bard rasped. "Then I want to watch you ride me and chase the cold away, until I know there are real and good and warm things in this world."

"Then that is what you shall have," he said. Thranduil reached over and turned up the lamp, enjoying the soft, flickering glow that reflected in Bard's eyes, as he slicked his fingers and reached behind to slide them inside, slowly, and meticulously. Bard's jaw went slack, and his eyes were nearly black with desire, as he oiled himself with one hand and ran his fingers over Thranduil's member with the other. This only egged the Elvenking on, and he tossed his long icy hair and let out a sharp cry he found his own prostate and stroked it mercilessly.

Strong hands grabbed Thranduil's shoulders and brought his mouth down for a deep kiss that sent shivers down his spine. After grabbing his wrist and pulling out Thranduil's fingers, those same hands sank into his hips, raised them up until Bard's cock met his entrance. When Thranduil started to sink down, Bard's tightened his grip.

"Slowly," Bard groaned. "Law no lagor; aníron gi mathad bân."

"Gi melin…" was all the Elvenking could manage to get out, as he took Bard in until at last they were one.

Bard set the pace at first, still slow, almost hesitant, unsure. Thranduil would have none of it. Bard did not need gentleness right now. He needed heat and passion, a solid reminder that love and life were with them, now and always, so that, even in the darkest moments, Bard would know it, believe in it, believe in them.

"I'm gonna come," Bard whimpered, and he threw his head back and shut his eyes. "Oh, gods, yeah…"

Bard wasn't ready to reveal his inner heart tonight, but the Elvenking wasn't worried; his bowman needed a little time, and he would give it.

He lifted his Bowman's hands to his mouth, and kissed his knuckles, closed his own eyes, and reveled in the vision the bright stars that burst like colorful fireworks as they came together.

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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

Gi melin – I love you.

Law no lagor; aníron gi mathad bân. – Slow down; I want to feel it all.

Meleth nîn – My love

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NOTES:

[1] Broken Wings, Ch. 20: /works/20519588/chapters/52937821

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