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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

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SUMMARY: An important meeting takes place in Elrond's study, and decisions are made.

Another important gathering takes place in Dale, followed by one at the Palace which is not so merry.

Beginning note: According to the Elf/Men conversion charts that Thranduil loaned me, Melui is 12 in Elven years, which would make her about 4 ½ years of age—if she were a little human girl.

Thank (which reader) for her idea. Votes for/against spiders seemed to be even, so this was a way to make everyone happy!

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"The line that ran through my life wasn't an elegant, silken thread. Mine had become an inextricably tangled, balled up mess, yet the line remained unbroken; it still ran end to end."

― Amie Gabriel, KINTSUKUROI HEART: More Beautiful For Having Been Broken

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Rivendell, 11th of March 2946 T.A.

Elrohir went to the door of Vildan's apartment and knocked. "Elladan? Are you ready?"

His brother opened the door with Melui on his hip. "We are just finishing breakfast. Could you braid her hair while I look for her shoes?"

Elrohir tickled the baby under her chin. "Are you well, today sweetling?" He reached out his arms and took her from Elladan.

The child nodded with an eager smile, her long blonde waves moving and settling around her face. "We ate in Vida's room. Then I told him a story."

"That was nice of you." Elrohir sat down on the sofa and picked up the brush from the side table and started at the ends of Melui's long locks, working upwards. "Lord Elrond says it is good to talk to him, yes?"

"El'dan says it will give him good dreams."

"I am sure of it," he smiled. "Would you like all your hair in a braid or a small one in the back here?" he touched the top of her head. "Then we can leave half of it down."

"A small one, please." She stood between his knees. "Can you put flowers in it?"

Elrohir's eyes swept the room. "I do not see any here. Perhaps when we are finished, we could find some."

Elladan came out of her room with a triumphant smile. "Found them!" he took in the sight of Melui standing calmly for his brother. "How did you do that?" he frowned. "She hates having her hair brushed!"

"So, you thought to curse me with the task?" Elrohir rolled his eyes. "Melui? Why are you behaving for me and not for Elladan?"

"You asked me nice," the child shrugged.

"But I am nice," Elladan protested.

"I think she means I asked her how she wanted her hair done." Elrohir's brow quirked with a grin. "Does my brother pick out your clothes and shoes?"

She nodded with a stubborn frown.

"Hold still while I fasten this, tithen pen." He picked up the small leather string and fastened it around the end of the braid. "Is that why you hid those boots? You do not like them?" At her giggled affirmation, Elrohir grinned. "Arwen was like this at her age, do you remember? She liked to pick out her own things to wear."

"Do you remember that Arwen insisted upon wearing the same dress every day for weeks on end?" Elladan grimaced. "Ada and Naneth were beside themselves!"

"Melui," Elrohir turned her around to face him. "Shall we strike a bargain?"

"What?"

"You may wear whatever clothing you like, provided they are warm enough," he counted his fingers, "and they are clean. And," he held up a third finger, "you will not protest when they need to be taken for a wash. Do we have a deal?" The Elf held out his hand, which the child shook.

"What is a 'deal?'"

"It means the same thing as a bargain," Elladan smiled down at her. "They say that in the North. Mostly by a Man named Lord Percy."

"All right," she set her jaw and asked. "I would like my blue dress and my brown boots."

"But you are already wearing…" Elladan closed his eyes and took a cleansing breath. "Very well, then. Let us get you changed."

Before Elladan took her back into her room, she turned to Elrohir with a cheeky grin, which he returned with a wink.

"Good morning," Elrond smiled at Melui, when they finally made it to his study. "How are you, my dear?"

"Mae govannen," she curtsied. "Ni bain."

"Our apologies for our tardiness," Elrohir spoke for them. "Elladan is discovering the joys of child care."

"You will get the gist of that, soon," Elrond said. "Just be grateful there is only one of her."

"Ai," Glorfindel shook his head ruefully. "I still have nightmares of the two of you at her age." With a mischievous smile, he addressed Melui. "Later, I will tell you some stories of their adventures; would you like that?"

Elladan covered her ears. "Do not give her any ideas!"

At this, Elrond laughed. "It would be no more than you deserved for turning Imladris upside down on for nearly seventy years!"

At the west window of Elrond's study, the sound of fluttering feathers and a sharp "Kak-kak-kak-kak," announced the arrival of Lagrôval the falcon, who settled himself on the open sill and began to groom his feathers.

Mithrandir's fingers rested on his mouth to hide a pleased smile.

"That is another mystery that needs to be solved," Glorfindel said.

"There is no mystery," Elrohir said. "Melui has been with these birds since she was an infant; they know her and see her as one of their own."

"But there is more to it, I think," Elrond gave the Wizard a sidelong glance.

"See for yourself." Mithrandir extended a fist to Melui. When she tapped on his fingers, they opened to reveal a lovely butterfly that flew into small circles above their heads. The child squealed with delight, before it flew out the window.

"Very good!" the Wizard clapped his hands with a laugh. "Here, Mail nîn," he smiled and with a twist of his wrist, produced a cookie from thin air. "This is your reward."

"Hannon le," she grinned, exposing her perfect little teeth, and took a bite.

"That was Melui?" Elladan's eyes were like saucers. "I did not know she could do that."

"She can, now," Mithrandir's blue eyes danced under his bushy grey brows. "Which is why I asked for her to be brought here for a few minutes."

Elrond patted the baby's head. "Melui, Lindir would like you to keep him company at his desk for a while. Would you please go with him, now?"

The Aide appeared and extended his hand with a smile. "I have some drawing pencils and paper all ready. Perhaps you might want to make some pictures for your friends here? Elladan will come get you when we are done talking."

"Athon!" Melui grinned, and, after waving to the others, grasped Lindir's fingers and left.

Elrond called the meeting to order by saying. "There are many things we need to discuss this morning, but let me begin by saying I have received a message from King Thranduil concerning recent events in the North." He reached into his drawer and pulled out a sheet of thin paper. "He writes that there was an attack on Dale involving the kidnapping of Vildan's mare and her foal. Though they recovered both safely, one of his people were killed and two others seriously injured. He is quite angry, and to be frank, I cannot say I blame him." 1

"Why would he blame you for this?" Elrohir's ire rose. "You are not responsible for what goes on in their Kingdoms!"

"True, but I failed to inform him of the prophecy concerning Mistanâr and her descendants, Ion nîn. He believes, and rightly so, that had he known, he would have assigned the horses better security."

"To be fair," Elrohir replied, "we had no idea the foal—Trastapîn?—was significant. After all, she mated with an ordinary stallion, did she not?"

"Do not be so quick to demean the horses from Lord Thranduil's stables," Mithrandir warned. "They may not have Meara blood, but they are by no means lowly."

Elrohir agreed. "I remember Tauriel's horse. He is a credit to his line; the Elvenking would not allow his child to have any less than the best."

"I am at fault as well," Glorfindel shook his head ruefully. "I had assumed that the mare fulfilled her destiny by staying east of the Misty Mountains, and thought no more of it."

"Let us not waste time on blame; ourselves or otherwise," Elrond decreed. "I am drafting a long missive explaining Mistanâr's prophesies at her birth, along with an account of the recent calamity here. My question to you is this: what do we say about Vildan and his condition? And if we reveal it to Thranduil, should we ask him not to tell his daughter?"

The twins exchanged glances, and his brother's answer didn't surprise Elrohir in the slightest. "Vildan and Tauriel do not correspond, to spare each other reminders of what they believe cannot be. It might be different if Tauriel wrote to him—she would be concerned and angry if he did not respond."

"I agree it would be unnecessarily cruel," Elrohir said. "What purpose would it serve? We do not know what Vildan's outcome will be, yet. She would want to come here, of that I am sure, but not only is she committed to serving as protector of King Bard's children, she is banned from traveling through her father's kingdom for at least six more years."

"But the biggest reason we should keep this to ourselves," Elladan continued, "is that I believe Vildan might not only be furious if Tauriel discovered this, but he would also be humiliated. Ada, this is something we must wait and ask Vildan himself."

"They are right, Mellon nîn," Mithrandir said. "Not even I can say what will happen, and believe me, I have looked. I know Thranduil is a friend, as well as a distant relation, Elrond. Would it be kind to put him in a position where he has to lie to his own daughter?"

"Perhaps not." Elrond nodded his head decisively. "Very well. Melui and her welfare is our next item to settle today." He sat back against the tall, padded back of his chair and rested his hands in his lap. "Since the events of this past week, there have been some new revelations concerning her welfare." He extended his hand toward the Grey Wizard. "Mithrandir?"

After a respectful nod, the Wizard began. "The Lord of the Eagles rarely shares his insights with anyone, but in this case, he has made an exception. He confirmed that Lagrôval has indeed been appointed Melui's protector."

"He told you the reasons she still needs protection?" Elladan's brow wrinkled.

"Some of them, yes. Though we are sure that Meássë's wishes are part of the reason, there is more to it, and due to some recent events in the Halls of Mandos, Melui has become increasingly important to the Valar."

This piqued everyone's interest. "Go on," Elrond's brow rose quizzically.

"I must backtrack a bit to explain fully," Mithrandir shifted in his seat and crossed his legs. "And I must also impart some disturbing news, Glorfindel was correct in thinking that Naeven killed Meássë and Narseg, though he did so under Lusiël's power."

Elrohir winced, and waited for the inevitable questions from his twin.

"Are you certain?" Elladan's face grew pallid, and two angry splotches appeared on each cheek.

"We are," Glorfindel's voice was gentle. "Naeven's family know nothing about it. They believed he and Lusiël were in love and would eventually marry."

Ella2dan's eyes filled with fury. "Why did you not tell me?" he demanded of Elrohir.

"Forgive my cowardice, Gwanunig," he whispered. "I did not know how to tell you. You have been worried about Vildan and Melui and…"

"Don't blame your brother," the Wizard said, patting Elladan on the shoulder. "He only meant to be kind." He glanced at Elrond. "How many people know the truth about this?"

"Only the people in this room," the Elf-Lord said.

"Good. I am told Lord Námo and Lady Nienna have extended what mercy they can to Naeven, and I see no need to burden his family with the entire story," Mithrandir said firmly. "What do you think?"

"I agree," Glorfindel steepled his fingers. "In all other ways, he was an honorable Elf; he was a victim, too." He gave Elladan a compassionate look. "Do not be angry at Elrohir. He was devastated on your behalf."

"I would have liked to have been told," Elladan's mouth pressed into an angry line.

"Where?" Glorfindel waved his hand. "Such things can only be discussed safely in this room! Better to hear this here, where our words are protected from outsiders, and where no one will see your sorrow but those who love you the most."

Elladan's gaze dropped to the floor, and after quickly wiping his eyes, he nodded. "I am sorry."

Mithrandir leaned forward and lifted his chin. "Do not be. Just be grateful, as we are. Do you understand what didn't happen? You could have been one of Lusiël's victims! I think it was your affection for her that saved you and your brother. Didn't I tell you that day in the woods how much the Dark Lord desires such prizes? Between her own inherent powers and that necklace, Lusiël could have easily done it, and not even I could have stopped it."

"Necklace?" Elrond sat up straighter.

"Ada," Elrohir cleared his throat. "When we recovered Lusiël's body, she had been wearing one of Nana's pendants—the emerald one."

Elrond's face went ghost-white. "What?" he asked in a thin voice.

"Elrond, my dear friend," Mithrandir took a deep breath. "I am afraid Lusiël's machinations went far beyond using Naeven as her pawn. When your sons recovered Lusiël's body, they found what they believed to be your wife's necklace which had been enchanted. I have since learned it was a replica of Celebrian's emerald pendant, but, I am assured, is not the original. Pallando wanted Lusiël to think it was her former Lady's, but this was created and cursed long before Celebrian's capture."

"Pallando was involved in…"

"Her capture, yes," the Wizard said sadly. "I am sure this possibility has occurred to you."

"Lusiël herself was not just pawn of Pallando?"

Mithrandir pursed his lips in a pause before he said, "No. And yes."

Elrond's gaze grew intense. "What do you mean?"

"Long before she encountered the Blue Wizard, her heart had been dark. He did not give her the power she was born with, though he and Sauron enhanced it and used it to the Dark Lord's purposes." He let out a deep sigh and looked upon Elrond with compassion. "It pains me to tell you this, but Lusiël gave Pallando the information that resulted in the Lady Celebrian's attack. She coveted power and control, and played right into the Dark Lord's hands."

The stunned silence in the study hung heavy in the air. Elrohir rose from his chair, stood beside his father and rested his hand upon Elrond's shoulder. "We are all here for you, Ada."

But the Elf-Lord didn't seem to notice. He stared off into space, his eyes blank with shock and grief. Elladan buried his face in his hands with a groan, his shoulders beginning to shake with silent sobs. Glorfindel leaned over and put his arm around Elladan's shoulders.

"The fault is not yours," he said. "She had us all fooled."

"I am truly sorry," Mithrandir whispered. "But it is better to learn this in private from a friend. All we can do is learn from this and take steps to prevent it from happening again. Lusiël hid her true self behind a mask of shyness," his gaze swept the room as his tone grew determined, "but we need to come up with a plan to discover if there are any more minions or objects of the Dark Lord among you. With your permission, Elrond, I would like to stay for a few months work with Glorfindel on this."

"You have it, with my thanks," the Elf-Lord said absently, still struggling to recover.

"I also want to spend time with little Melui," Mithrandir said. "It might be wise to discover the depths of her talents and help her manage them. Which brings me to probably the most important piece of news I have today.

"I am told that before Lusiël was cast into the Void, Námo, stripped her of the powers she'd been born with." Mithrandir's gaze swept the room and landed on the eldest son of Elrond, whose eyes filled with a growing horror. "He and the rest of the Valar have decided to bless Melui with all the potential that had been given to Lusiël."

"Melui is just a baby!" Elladan cried. "What if she becomes a monster like Lusiël?"

"She will not for several reasons: Unlike Lusiël, we know about her gifts at the outset, which will help us guide her."

"Such blessings can often become a curse, Mithrandir." Elrond said warily. "If the safety of my people are at risk, I cannot—"

"I completely understand," Mithrandir lifted his hand. "Great blessings come with great responsibility. None of the Valar wish to see the same mistake repeated. Therefore, Lagrôval is to receive orders from Lord Gwaihir, who answers to King Manwë Súlimo himself." 3

"The High King of the Valar?" Elladan squeaked.

"There is more. As of now, Melui, daughter of Narseg and Meássë, foster-daughter of Vildan, his under the personal protection of Lady Vairë herself."

Once again, the room was full of dropped jaws and shocked silence.

"Elo," Elrohir murmured after a few moments. "When you say you have news, you were not jesting!"

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City of Dale, 10th of March 2946 T.A.

The day after the trial, the Royal Family of Dale gathered in the Castle Gardens around the fresh mound of Thangon's grave, and set flowers and greenery next to the large soup bone and piece of thick, knotted rope that Lewis and Greta had placed earlier.

While the Elves sang, Bard closed his eyes and let his mind wander.

Only now did Bard understand how much he had come to depend upon Thangon's quiet, steady presence in his life. Countless times had he wanted to tear his hair out from the endless minutiae of running a kingdom, only to glance over and see the dog do something ridiculous. And Bard would laugh, the knots in his shoulders would ease, and his day was made bearable.

A thousand small moments combined to form one constant image: Thangon, tongue lolling from his mouth, his tail thumping on whatever cushion he happened to be on, wanting nothing but to be with him.

While Thranduil and Tauriel enjoyed their time in the evening to walk the dogs and relax, it was part of Bard's routine take Thangon out for his morning ablutions, and walk quietly on the Castle grounds or through the early morning streets, when most people were still abed. A King's day—his life—was almost never his own, but Thangon's natural exuberance and his wonder at the smallest things, reminded Bard not to get so swallowed up in the problems of his kingdom and his people that he lost his own joy.

That was the best word to describe the giant dog that had left such a hole in his heart: Joyful.

Once Thranduil had finished leading the Elves in song. Bard stepped forward, raised his hands over the mound and said a quick blessing, and the Kings gathered the family and took them upstairs for some quiet time.

"He was Meryl's best friend," Tilda said, crawling into Bard's lap. "I remember when Daeron took us to meet dogs like him at the palace and I was scared of them. 4 But he helped rescue us, when those bad men took us, didn't he?" 5

"He sure did, sweetheart," Bard rubbed her upper back.

"Thangon was very brave," Thranduil smiled down at her.

Meryl jumped onto the couch and curled up next to Bard's hip, laying her head between her paws with a soft whine.

"She was never scared of him, even when she was a tiny puppy." Tilda stroked the little dog's wrinkled face.

"Did you know your Ada drew a picture of the first time Meryl and Thangon met?" Bard kissed Tilda's temple.

"Could you show it to me?" Tilda gazed up at the Elvenking.

"It is in one of my books, but I think I will make a copy for our mantle."

"I'd like that," Bard's eyes stung. "Stars, I'll never forget the first time I laid eyes on him. Did I ever tell you kids that story?"

The children, as well as Legolas shook their heads. Tauriel smothered a smile.

"It was hilarious," Percy huffed a laugh. "Feren had brought him to the Great Hall a few days earlier. And half those men were quaking in their boots!"

"Really?" From his place on the floor, Bain's back straightened.

"Oh, aye. When your Da returned from Dale after taking you kids to the Palace, I hid the beast in your Da's room. He nearly had a heart attack the first time he laid eyes on him!" Percy's belly jiggled in laughter. "I'll never forget how big his eyes got!" he guffawed. "Now that's something you need to draw, Thranduil!" 6

Soon one story was followed by another, and the melancholy gathering turned into a merry celebration of the huge dog's life.

Which is how Thangon would want to be remembered-with smiles and laughter.

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City of Dale, 11th of March 2946 T.A.

The people of Dale gathered that evening for a memorial reception in honor of the Elf Voron, who had been popular and well-respected during his tenure in Dale. His father, mother, and brother came to accept their sincere condolences, as well as share their memories of him. Percy and Constable Tom sat at their table, all laughing at some anecdote or another. Thranduil was delighted to see the smiles on Voron's father's face.

The Potluck dinner was also meant as an apology to Jack, who had recently been proven innocent, as well as to Evan and Eryn, for doubting any of them. Eryn's mother, who had been rather vocal of her disapproval a few days ago, had changed her tune, and was currently hovering over the young man, making sure he had plenty to eat.

As he sat next to Bard at the Royal Family's table, Thranduil, not for the first time, marveled at his husband's people. Their tempers could be short, but quickly turned to joy, and—speaking for the Dale folk, at least—willing to admit their wrongs and make reparations. This is certainly something Elves could learn, he thought, as he took a sip of his favorite wine.

Since he moved to Dale to be with his new family, the Elvenking couldn't begin to list all the other blessings that came from it. Of course, he always enjoyed visiting Old Dale under the rule of Bard's ancestors, but it wasn't until Smaug destroyed the city, that he understood Dale's importance. He and Daín may have played a part in shaping the Northern Kingdoms as it is now, but it was Bard and the good people of Laketown who fully restored this city into a center for culture and art and variety.

It was a good night, and a good way to keep his mind off things. Tomorrow, he would be heading to the Palace for some gruesome business. With a small shudder, he lifted the glass to his lips and emptied it. Not now, he told himself.

"Here you go, My Lord," Roderic came up to their table and handed Bard a large mug of ale. "Your favorite brew."

"Thanks," the King of Dale took it gratefully. Bain came up to stand beside Rod, with a purposeful smile.

"I haven't had a chance to say, but we're sure sorry to lose Thangon," Rod told him. "He was a grand lad."

"He was."

"In fact," Rod exchanged glances with Bain. "We've been asked to come get you; there's a group of folks here who want to pay their respects."

"Would you come talk to them?" Bain asked. "I guess a lot of people loved him, too; not just us."

Bard rose and grabbed his mug. "Sounds good," he said, though his eagerness didn't meet his eyes. "Are you coming, love?"

"Not just now," Thranduil squeezed his hand. "You and Bain go and enjoy yourselves."

As he watched his husband and son walk toward the other tables, he recalled Lewis the Cook's words to him the other night. 7 There were stories that needed to be told, that Bard needed to hear. It might help him sleep without a losta-luith for the first time nearly a week.

Thranduil needed the rest, too, but hesitated to ask Daeron to come. He wanted at least one of them to be alert in case something should happen, and… maybe he didn't want to sleep because he feared what dreams might come before tomorrow.

"Were you and Bain arguing just now?" he asked Bard that night as they crawled into bed. "I heard loud voices from his room."

"He wants to go with you tomorrow, to be present when you execute the prisoners," Bard rubbed his jaw. "And he wasn't pleased when I said no."

"Of course, he was not," the Elvenking settled with his head on his husband's shoulder. "One has to admire his eagerness to learn the burdens of Kingship."

"That's just it," Bard said grimly. "Is 'Kinging' what this is really about? Or is it morbid curiosity? All boys his age think of those things as an adventure, like the stories in the books you give him to read."

"I do not agree, Meleth nîn. Bain fought valiantly in the Battle, and those Orcs were certainly real enough." Thranduil sat up and looked into his Bowman's eyes. "He stood with you in that bell tower when you killed Smaug; you doubt that the Dragon's hot breath against the back of his neck was real? He had nightmares for months that first winter." 8 He gently ran his finger down the side of Bard's cheek. "You want to protect him, and I admire you for that, but again, would it not be better to face it when we can still guide him?"

"Not that." Bard looked off to the side with irritation. "I don't want him to think that stuff comes easy. In fact, I'm not sure I will allow the death penalty here."

"You changed your mind?"

Bard turned back to him; brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"When we were taking the women and children to the Palace for the Long Winter, Daeron told you about the man who murdered his wife and unborn child, yes? You agreed at the time that King Girion was right to execute him. In fact, your exact words were, 'I plan on doing the same thing, should it ever occur in my Kingdom.'" 9

"It seemed a lot easier when I wasn't condemning anyone myself." Bard swore under his breath and sat up against the headboard. Besides, if you start thinking in terms of 'a life for a life,' where will it end? It easy enough for someone like you…" Bard paused, and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry; that didn't come out right. I only meant—"

"What do you mean?" Thranduil's eyes narrowed. "Do you think it is easy for me, just because I have had to do it numerous times over the course of my reign?" he couldn't stop the edge in his voice. "I promise you, Bard, it is not! 'A life for a life?' What foolish notion is that? I do it because the safety of the people in my kingdom, as well as those human villages under my protection must always come first! If you think I relish such actions then you are gravely mistaken!" he pulled away from Bard angrily.

"Those laws were written long before I was born, and I do not carry out the sentence myself because I think it is easy; I do that because I love my people too much to let them be burdened with the guilt that comes with it!"

"I only meant—"

"I know what you meant!" Thranduil got up from the bed and grabbed his robe. "I told you that I would respect your decisions about the death penalty for certain crimes; am I not entitled to the same consideration? Who are you to judge me or my people!"

"Where are you going?" Bard said, throwing his own covers off and getting out of bed. "Look, don't—"

"No, Bard!" he held up his hand. "I agree that Bain shouldn't be there; only because he is too young for such a horrible thing. You have been busy, and I understand that, but I have had a hard enough time anticipating this, and you are not making it any easier!" And with that, he stormed out of the room.

Thranduil was sitting at the long, rough table in the kitchen drinking his third cup of tea when soft slippers scuffed along the stone tiles. Bard appeared in his green robe and slippers.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I really am. All this week, you've been nothing but supportive. You looked after everything when we had to bring Thangon back, even though you lost Voron and were worried sick about Amrol and Haden. Even before the trial, you took the time to make sure I wasn't nervous." Bard sat down on the bench beside him, his eyes wet with tears. "I should have thought more about what this was like for you. I'm a thoughtless, selfish arsehole, and I don't blame you for getting mad at me." He laid his head on Thranduil's shoulder. "I didn't mean to sound like I judged you, love. It's just that all this reminds me of how little I really know about Kinging compared to you, and it's hard to keep my head above water some days.

"But that's no excuse. Since the day you rode into Dale, you've never wavered in your love or support, and one of the few times you really need me…" Bard swallowed hard, his voice cracked. "It kills me that I ended up hurting you more."

Thranduil stared down at his cup as a tear fell from his eye. Salt mixed with herbs and sugar. The sweet and the bitter seemed fitting. "Just because I have more experience, does not mean I do not struggle, Bard. I do not want to…" his voice seized up and he couldn't talk.

"I realize that, now. Forgive me for taking you for granted." Warm lips brushed against his temple and his cheek. "I love you, Thranduil. And there is no being on Middle Earth that I respect more. You are a good King, love. I was just tired and sick of this whole mess."

Thranduil reached up and grasped the hand sitting on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Those men deserve to die, and I will not apologize for that."

"Nor should you. And you're right; if anyone were to come here and hurt one of our kids, I'd kill them. Why should I be less protective of one of my people?"

The Elvenking said nothing, but leaned his head against Bard's.

"Come on, love," Bard rose from the bench and grabbed Thranduil's cup. "I have a new plan; we will go upstairs, get a good night's sleep, then I'm coming with you in the morning."

"Bard, I do not—"

"Thranduil," Bard pulled his husband to stand and handed him his tea, "I'm going to stand with you, and after, I'm going to take you to our rooms and hold you," he kissed him, "and hold you," he kissed him again, "and hold you, until it stops hurting."

Two days later, Bard stood tall in the Throne room, as the King of the Woodland realm, looking strong and resplendent in his official crown, slowly descended his high throne with his father's sword. After a deep breath and a silent prayer, he executed the three prisoners, then ordered that their bodies be taken south to be fodder for the creatures of the forest and what spiders remained there. And Bard, whose gaze never left the Elvenking's face, drew him away from that bloody spot before anyone could see how badly Thranduil was shaking.

Speaking gently, Bard led him back to the Royal apartments and bathed him, carefully washing his hands and kissing each finger. Bard took him into their bed and slowly made love to him, telling him softly that he wasn't alone, that he was so loved. As Thranduil came with a hard sob, Bard looked deep into his fëa, saw his fear and pain and cried with him.

Only then did he begin to feel clean again.

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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

Athon! – I am willing!

Elo - Wow

Gwanunig – Twin brother

Hannon le, hír nîn – Thank you, My Lord

Mae govannen; Ni bain – Greetings; I am good

Mail nîn – My dear

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NOTES:

1 SCOM, Ch. 8: /works/26090521/chapters/73036815

2 SCOM, Ch. 21: /works/26090521/chapters/81717646

3 /wiki/Manwe

4 And Winter Came…, Ch. 4: /works/12026709/chapters/27534306

5 An Invincible Summer, Ch. 38: /works/14127870/chapters/37370825

6 What Makes a King, Ch. 32: /works/10838010/chapters/27221007

7 SCOM, Ch. 17: /works/26090521/chapters/79447126

8 And Winter Came; Ch. 8: /works/12026709/chapters/27998778

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9 What Makes a King, Ch. 28: /works/10838010/chapters/26829726