CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
SUMMARY: Some time has passed in Middle Earth. Vildan still sleeps, while Elrond tries to regenerate his spinal cord, hoping against hope that the nerves will come to life again.
The gang up in Dale are recovering nicely from the catastrophe in March, but can Bard handle another bombshell?
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City of Dale, 27th of March 2946 T.A.
The spring rains in the North had finally started to let up, and the flowers of May were peeking through the soil in window boxes all over city. Snapdragons, tulips and daffodils had been cheerily greeting the Dale folk for over a week now, while the rose buds were eager to greet the sun.
Birds were gathering supplies and preparing nests high in the pine trees, and, once done, the females, protected by their earth-toned feathers, snuggled down patiently as their mates went off in search of food and used their flamboyant colors to distract predators.
The gardens in public parks boasted lovely blooms along their walkways. Even the weeds, courageously climbed up between the cobble stones, just as eager to see the warmer weather. In the Castle Gardens, Rhian carefully monitored the spring bulbs and nurtured the small plants that struggled to grow among the bigger, healthier ones. Cook and Greta had already put in Lewis's herb garden, and spent each morning wandering through the rows, carrying their morning cups of tea.
When Bard took his early morning walks, he sat on the bench by hyacinths planted near Thangon's grave and let their sweet fragrance fill his lungs and thought about his friend. Last week, Tauriel had surprised them with a gravestone from Erebor with a stunning etching of the great dog himself highlighted in grey and polished smooth as glass. The entire household was deeply moved at her thoughtfulness. Bard could only hug his stepdaughter tight, and after drying her tears, told her once again that it wasn't her fault and made her promise to stop blaming herself.
Then he locked himself in his study for an hour, and when he came out again, his eyes were red and puffy.
Mistanâr and Trastapîn had physically recovered from their abduction, but while the mare suffered the touch of only a few, the filly wouldn't allow anyone near her, no matter how patiently Tauriel or Cirion, the new stablemaster, tried to calm them. They were kept in the stables weeks after the others were let out into the pasture, but Trastapîn needed fresh air and sweet grass to remain healthy.
As promised, three new dogs had been installed to protect the beasts in the Royal Stables and watch over them in the pastures, though they were not of the same breed as normally used by the Woodland Elves. Shortly after the Kings' returned from the executions at the Palace, Thranduil rode out to see Farmer Jarvis and purchased three of his huge, white livestock dogs.
"Why not Elven dogs?" Bard asked Thranduil, when they leaned against the fence and observed the scene. "Wouldn't they be more apt to spot danger?" He absently ran his hand back and forth along the rough wood, flinching when a splinter wedge itself in one of his fingers. "Ow!"
"Here; let me see," Thranduil took his hand and after close inspection, removed the offending piece of wood and told Bard to suck on it, to stop the bleeding. "To answer your question, let me remind you that Thangon was not magic, though we loved to think he was. These dogs are better suited to this type of work."
The Elvenking's hand snaked around Bard's waist and pulled him close. "I also thought it would be easier on you, Meleth nîn."
Bard stiffened, though he didn't pull away. "You shouldn't have to worry about me like that; just do what's best for them, yeah?"
"I am," Thranduil said. "Jarvis purchased his dogs from somewhere near Rohan, and I thought I might breed them and send them around to my villages to guard sheep and livestock. Fahrui like Thangon and Beriel are best used for hunting and guarding, while these Famárë excel at guarding herds and taking them to safety."
"What do the children think of them?" Bard asked. "I'm surprised Tilda didn't ask for one."
"Oh, she did," Thranduil hugged him against his side. "But Jarvis assures me these dogs, while friendly and patient with children, do not make good pets. They dislike indoors, and prefer to sleep in barns or out in the open."
"Greta and her staff will be thrilled; no more muddy footprints on their floors." A slow, mournful breath escaped Bard as he studied the grass. "I don't know why I can't get past it, love, but..." he rubbed his chest.
"There is no need to explain," warm lips kissed his cheek.
"But you're going to get me another dog, whether I like it or not."
"When the time is right," the Elvenking smiled.
"Not now, please?"
"Not now, Meleth nîn." The Elvenking jerked his chin toward the white dogs. "I think they are making progress."
Frey, a male, was the biggest of the three, and was clearly the leader of this pack, while he and Dag, another male and Frey's pup, patrolled the perimeter of the herd constantly. Gerda, a female, positioned herself within five feet of Trastapîn and followed her wherever she went.
This afternoon, she was lounging in the sun, her thick coat easily warding off the cool breeze, but as soon as Mistanâr and Trastapîn moved away to graze, the dog rose and settled next to her. The foal turned back and took three tentative steps toward the dog. Slowly, slowly, Trastapîn lowered her head, nostrils flaring, and stretched her neck until her nose was inches away from Gerda's muzzle. The dog became a statue, making no overture, though the tip of her bushy tail flapped against the ground.
Bard and Thranduil were also motionless, silent observers of what could be a sign that this beautiful, rare creature might trust her world again. Mistanâr lifted her head from the grass and turned to watch her daughter, hope in her eyes as well.
A full minute passed, and Bard had to remind himself to breathe. Thranduil tightened his grip, and grabbed Bard's other hand.
A small step forward. Gerda cautiously stretched her muzzle until it was barely an inch from Trastapîn. The foal closed the distance, and after a thorough sniff, the big dog licked the velvet nose with a soft whine.
"I think she made a new friend," Bard whispered.
The Elvenking's response was a beautiful, wide smile that filled his heart to bursting.
The Bowman turned, held Thranduil's face and kissed him.
"I love you so much," he said.
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888
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16th of April 2946 T.A.
At the beginning of April, a messenger from Gondor arrived bearing a letter from Ecthelion II, heir of Steward Turgon. He and his family were pleased at the invitation to visit the Kings of the North, thank you very much, and plan to arrive toward the second week of June and stay for a month, if that would be suitable. 1
"That would be perfect," Bard handed his husband the letter. "We'll be leaving for Lothlórien at the beginning of August, so it gives us plenty of time."
The family was thrilled. Hilda wrung her hands. "Gondor!" she kept saying. "I can't believe the Steward's family will be coming here! To see us!"
Galion tried to calm her down. "They will love you, Brennil vuin; and I will make sure you know all the protocols by rote. It will be fine." He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a reassuring smile.
"Hil, these people put their pants on one leg at a time, just like the rest of us," Percy added. "Rôg, have you been to Gondor?"
"I regret to say I have not," Rôgon got up to stand on the other side of Hilda. "But Percy is right; your people have much to be proud of, and they cannot help but be impressed with all you have accomplished here."
Thinking to be of help, Thranduil had gotten out several of his books and showed them pictures of the White City, explaining its history and significance during the second and third ages. Bard and the children loved it, but when he was finished, Hilda's eyes were like saucers.
And since then, she and Greta had been downright frightening; they planned to scrub not only the Castle from top to bottom, but the Great Hall, and the entire city.
Two weeks later, another messenger came from Rivendell, bearing a box containing a long letter from Lord Elrond. After sending the Vanguard off for a good meal and a rest, Thranduil rushed into Bard's study with Galion and quickly recited the opening spell. He pulled out the sheaf of parchment and sat down to read.
"Does he apologize for keeping you in the dark about Vildan's horses?" Bard gave him a wry smile,
But Thranduil didn't answer."Ai, siniath faeg," he murmured, the color draining from his face.
"What terrible news?" Bard's stomach stirred and he placed his palms on his desk as if to push off. "What happened?"
"Elrond apologizes for his neglect, and does offer an account of the Meara and her foal, but there is more," the Elvenking's voice was as pale as his face. "Forgive me; I cannot bear to read it aloud." He handed the letter over to Bard and covered his eyes.
"What happened?" Percy pulled in a chair from his office and sat. He gave Galion a worried look before his grey eyes fell upon Bard again.
Bard's lips moved silently as he read the report. "Oh, shit…" he murmured. "Apparently—do you remember Saeros and that ring he had?"
"Oh, you're kidding," Percy's mouth thinned into a straight line. "Was it that bad?"
"It was a lot worse. I never thought I'd say this, but we might have gotten off lucky. Listen to this:
"'Many have been badly hurt, and a several have lost their lives, including the one who possessed a necklace we believe was cursed by the Dark Lord. She had somehow managed to conceal extraordinary black magic under the guise of extreme shyness. Myself, my Council and several members of my household were simultaneously incapacitated and nearly suffocated. In the end, she lost her life falling from a cliff into the Bruinen, which had been dangerously rapid with the rains. I
I never thought I would be glad for the death of one of our people, Thranduil, but this Elleth was responsible for the murder of Vildan's sister and her husband. She also killed two of my guards and her own cousin, Laniër.
But as it transpires, Lusiël's treachery goes back even further under what we assume to be Pallando's tutelage. You see, Lusiël, daughter of Lucian had served as a handmaiden to my dearest wife. In her desire for power, Lusiël betrayed Celebrian by arranging her capture by Orcs, whose torture forced her to leave these shores."
"Ai gorgor!" Galion clasped his throat, his eyes filled with tears.
Bard lowered the paper and ran his thumbs under his eyes. "I can't begin to think how painful that must be."
"The poor lad," Percy shook his head. "I hope that bitch is rotting wherever she is."
"She is," Thranduil said with a heavy sigh. "Can you read the rest, please?"
"'We were fortunate at the unexpected arrival of Mithrandir, who saved the lives of my beloved sons, and assists us with the aftermath of this calamity. He tells me that the Valar have been merciful to all the victims, but as for Lusiël herself, the Lord of Mandos has declared her soul to be beyond redemption, and she was Cast Out."
Galion covered his mouth to stifle the horrified cry that escaped his lips.
Bard looked up from the page. "I don't know what that means. Cast out where?"
"Into the Void," Thranduil swallowed hard, "where she will spend eternity with Melkor himself. You may rest assured that whatever poor Celebrian endured, this Lusiël is receiving tenfold."
"Ulmo's balls," Percy's jaw went slack. "And Elrond had no idea that necklace was in Rivendell?"
"Nor did I, when Saeros carried his ring right under our very noses. " Thranduil's hands shook slightly as his eyes met Galion's. "How can such a thing remain hidden from Elrond? If even he can be deceived…" 2
Bard's brows lowered. "What does that mean?"
But Thranduil gave no answer, only gestured toward the letter. "Read on; there is more."
Once again, my dear friend, I ask for your apology regarding the lack of information about the Meara mare, and I hope you will forgive me. Enclosed is a copy of Glorfindel's prophecy made on the day of Mistanâr's birth:
'Not since Eorl the Young rode Felaróf to the aide of Gondor has this world seen the like. Verily, there are also shadows of Nahar, the mighty steed of Oromë, from whom all the Meara have descended.
'Great she may be, yet there will be two born from her line, one greater than any born in Aman. 'The Lord of All Horses,' he will be called, and will suffer none to ride him but those whom he deems worthy, and the fate of nations will rise or fall by the swiftness of his feet. The other shall be the bane of his Master, yet through him, One who cannot be felled by any man, will meet his doom.'
We did not inform Vildan of our observations at the mare's birth, thinking it might adversely affect the Lieutenant's relationship with her. And indeed, we believe her presence east of the Misty Mountains is part of her destiny, though we cannot foresee much more than that. We had no way of knowing Mistanâr would bear such a astonishing foal, and I can only share in your relief that they are well and safe once again.
With my best regards, I am your servant,
Elrond, Lord of Imladris
P.S. Enclosed you will also find a short message from our friend Mithrandir.
Bard opened the box again. "Ah. Here it is." He took out a small letter, broke the seal and read:
"'Bard and Thranduil—I will meet you in Lothlórien in August for the wedding, then come back with you—Gandalf the Grey.'"
"Short and to the point," Percy shrugged. "Why would he need to be here?"
But again, Thranduil's eyes were closed as he slumped back in his chair in relief.
"De athae i Belain," Galion said softly.
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888
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28th of April 2946 T.A.
"Hi Da! I'm home!"
The King of Dale was so focused on the crop projections for this year that he didn't look up when Tilda stuck her head into the door of his study. "Hey there Beanie!" he waved absently. "How was school today?"
"Pretty good," she said, pulled the strap of her satchel off her shoulders. "Is it okay if I do my homework later? I'm want to go ride for a with Ruvyn."
"Mmm Hmm." His finger followed the column of numbers.
"Thanks. See ya!"
"Mmm Hmm…"
"Oh, I almost forgot!" she popped her head back in. "I supposed to tell you Radagast will be here in two weeks!"
"Mmm Hmm. Have fun, sweetie."
It took a full minute before his daughter's words sank in. "Tilda!" he called. "Tilda!"
"She is upstairs changing, My Lord," Ruvyn appeared in his doorway.
"Did we get a message from the Palace?"
"Not that I am aware."
Bard finally set the troubling paper down and peeked into Percy's office. "Did we get a bird, Pers?"
"Nope," Percy shook his head, not looking up from the document he was writing. He dipped his feathered quill into the ink and scratched out the next sentence. "Maybe it just got here."
"Did you see anything?" Bard asked Ruvyn.
"I have been with Lady Tilda at school," the Elf shrugged. "I could ask the guards at the doors."
"Do that, would you?"
"Maybe she was joking," Percy said.
"Probably."
A few minutes later, the guard reappeared. "They saw no message, My Lord."
"Are you taking her down to Hope Field to meet Thranduil and Tauriel?"
"Yes. Tilda wanted to meet them and escort them home." Ruvyn's brow wrinkled. "Unless you do not wish it?"
"No; it's fine," he said. "Make sure she bundles up, or Thranduil will never let you hear the end of it."
"Of course, My Lord." With a small smile, the Elf saluted and left.
Bard tried to put it out of his mind.
But still…
Two hours later, Bard had just finished locking up his study for the day when the main doors opened to admit his husband and two of their daughters. Tilda was giggling about something, and Thranduil pulled on her braids to tease her before he helped her out of her coat and hat. Tauriel was taking off her cloak and throwing it over her arm when she caught Bard's eye as he came to meet them.
"Suil, Bard!" she kissed his cheek.
"Suil, yourself; how was your trip?"
"I enjoyed it," she said. "Mostly because I was not stuck in meetings for two days, like Ada."
"Well, somebody has to do it," he shrugged. "How are Vís and the others?"
"They are well, and send their love."
"Hi, Da," Tilda grinned. "Ruvyn went home."
"So I gathered," he kissed her head. "It's almost suppertime, so take your wraps upstairs and change into clean clothes." He gave her a pat on her behind as she scrambled up the Grand Staircase with Tauriel.
Their youngest was eleven-and-a-half now, and had changed over the past year. Her face had lost much of its rounded innocence though her eyes were still as beautiful as they always were. According to Daeron's last checkup, she had grown two inches in the last year, mostly in her legs, and though she would always be petite, hints of womanly curves were beginning to emerge. Bard gave his husband a sidelong glance, and noted the resignation in Thranduil's eyes as they rested on their little girl. Then the Elf shook his head slightly and turned to him with a grin.
"Perhaps you could spank me like that." Thranduil pulled him in for a kiss.
"Later, you," Bard kissed him back, then remembered something. "Hey Tilda!"
The little girl's braids swung through the air as she turned at the top of the steps. "Yes, Da?"
"What was that you said about Radagast?"
Thranduil was confused. "What is this?"
"He'll be here in about two weeks," she said. "I need to go wash up."
"Yeah, I remember that, but who told you?"
"Bard?" Thranduil took hold of his elbow. "What is going on?"
"I heard it out in the courtyard, by the fountain," she shrugged, her eyes confused. "Didn't you know?"
"No. Did Ruvyn say something?"
She shook her head.
"Well, who else was there?"
"Nobody, just me and Ruvyn and the guards at the doors, but they didn't say anything."
Bard exchanged an alarmed glance with Thranduil. "So, you actually heard a voice that said Radagast would be here, but you didn't see anyone."
"Uh huh."
"Tithen pen," Thranduil stepped forward and motioned her to come back downstairs.
She shook her head and refused to budge. "Not if I'm in trouble."
Tauriel reappeared on the landing, followed by Bain, who had been drawn to the noise.
"No one said anything about it to me," Bard's voice grew testy, "and we can't just be going around—"
The little girl's tone grew shrill. "I'm not lying, Da! He said—"
"Who said?"
"I don't know!"
Thranduil tilted his head. "Can you tell us exactly what you heard?"
Tilda swallowed. "'Tell King Bard that Radagast will arrive in two weeks.' I don't know who said it, or where the voice came from, but that's what I heard!" She stomped her foot. "And I did!"
Bard's chest grew heavy. "This can't be right."
"Well, I'm not fibbing!" Tilda was shrieking now.
"Well, somebody is!"
"I hate you!" And with all the hysterics of pre-teens, Tilda burst into tears and ran to her room.
"Nice going, Da," Bain stared at Bard with wide, unbelieving eyes and shook his head. Tauriel quietly excused herself, but Tilda's dog Meryl was not going to take the insult to her mistress lightly, and her hackles rose as she growled and vocalized her displeasure.
"That is enough," Thranduil grabbed Bard's upper arm. "Just go wash and change, please. I will speak to your Da."
"Come on," Bain mumbled, turning away. The dog followed him.
Once the door was shut in Thranduil's study, Bard whipped around to face him. "You heard what she said!" He scrubbed his hand over his face and rubbed his jaw.
"You are not wrong; something is unusual about this, but Tilda would not lie to you, at least on purpose!" Thranduil growled. "She's a child!"
"Exactly! Don't you remember Elrond's letter?"
"You know I do!"
"Well, it scared the shit out of me, Thranduil! We aren't Elves, we're just Men here, and that makes us easy prey doesn't it?" His voice grew louder with every word until he was shouting. "Saeros fell under that Blue fucker's spell in when he was a child like Tilda—who is to say they won't try that again with our baby?"
"By telling us Radagast the Brown is coming?"
"Yes! What if he's fallen to the Dark Lord, just like the others? And you can't say that won't happen, Thranduil. I saw the look you gave Galion when we got that letter. You are just as terrified as I am!"
"Sit down, Bard." The Elvenking ordered. After he poured them both a stiff drink, he said. "Yes, it is true I am afraid, and for reasons which I cannot say. But I've been thinking about this: Saeros never personally came into contact with me or Legolas; if he had, I think we would have sensed it. Instead, he was careful to keep himself in the lower levels of the Palace, surrounded by Silvans whose talents do not include the discernment of a Sindar."
"But—"
"And, part of Elrond's letter explained that Lusiël's also managed to avoid Elrond and his sons, that she always looked to the ground because she was shy. Her eyes were full of enchantment, and when her full gaze fell upon Elrond, he nearly choked to death, as did the rest of his Council."
"If you think that makes me feel any better…"
"But Tilda has acted no different towards anyone, has she?"
"Well, no," Bard admitted, rubbed the top of his chest. "Except when she told me off."
"I am afraid you had that coming," Thranduil's mouth twitched. "And do not expect Hilda to take that lightly."
"Oh, stars," Bard's face fell. "She's going to kill me."
"Probably," the Elf took his hand and rubbed his thumbs in Bard's palm before kissing it. "But I suggest you talk a walk and settle yourself before you speak with Tilda."
"Good idea. Could you talk to her for me?"
"I will."
When Bard stepped back into the courtyard, Hilda was waiting for him on the Castle steps, hands on her hips. Get in there," she snapped and led him to the conference room, where Thranduil, Tauriel, Percy, Galion, and Ruvyn were waiting.
Hilda slammed the door behind her and shouted. "Well, didn't you just put your foot in it?"
"That's not fair, Hil!" You don't know—"
"You accused Tilda of lying?" she looked ready to take a swing at him. "How could you?"
"No!" Bard cried. "I was afraid someone else is behind this, and they pulled Tilda into it. That's why we need to know who told her this, so we can question him, that's all! And I don't understand why Tilda refused to say!"
"Bard, she's just a little girl."
"Yes, exactly! Don't you get it? Someone out there might be using our daughter as a pawn, and why wouldn't they?"
"But this is Tilda we're talking about!" Hilda slammed the palm of her hand on the table. "And she is guarded everywhere she goes, so no one—"
"How can you be sure?" Bard asked everyone. "Of our entire family, she is the most impressionable, the most vulnerable and if we don't find out who's behind this…" he licked his lips. "It might be some benign message about Radagast, or flowers or anything, but isn't that the start? Do you remember Wynny the kitchen maid, who got seduced by one of Jarod's men, and helped attack Dale?" 3
"My Lord," Ruvyn spoke up, his voice professional, but his eyes accusing, "unless someone is in her classroom, I know of no stranger approaching your daughter with any sort of cryptic motive. If they did, I hope you trust me to prevent it, and to report to you."
"And to the best of our knowledge, no one did?" Thranduil asked.
"Again," Ruvyn said evenly, "may I remind My Lords that I am charged with Lady Tilda's safety and anyone guarding her answers to me." The Elf met Bard's eyes and said evenly. "If you do not fully trust my word as a soldier, please trust in my affection for Lady Tilda and her family.
"Lieutenant—" the Elvenking warned.
"No," Bard said. "Let him speak his mind."
Ruvyn swallowed hard and continued. "You are not the only one who suffers from that day. Many of us in your Royal Guard struggle to forgive ourselves for failing to stop them sooner. We do not work this hard because it is our job, or because of honor, but because we genuinely care."
Everyone looked to Bard, who let out a long breath. "You're right, Ruvyn. Please, forgive me." He addressed the others. "So, we're positive that Tilda wasn't passed some slip of paper, right?"
"I have checked with her, and I have checked her satchel," Tauriel said. "She maintains she is telling the truth, and I believe her, Bard." She lifted an eyebrow in challenge.
"So do I," Thranduil said, and gestured to his aide. "Galion?"
Bard gave his husband a questioning look. "What—"
"Just, wait and hear us out," the Elvenking said gently. "And…prepare yourself."
"Prepare… why?"
"Because I know how you get with these sorts of things, Meleth nîn." 4 5
"Bard," the Aide picked up one of the books in front of him and opened to a bookmarked page. "Thranduil asked me to find some evidence to support a theory he has. As you know, Garon the Founder, first King of Dale, was a younger sibling of the Prince of Dol Amroth. What you might not remember was that he—and you—are descended from Galador, the first Prince, whose parents were Imrazôr and Mithrellas—"
"The Elf…" Bard's eyes went wide. "She was an Elf."
"What?" Hilda's face pinched in confusion. "You have an Elf in your history?"
"He does indeed," Galion placed his finger on the paragraph and read:
Mithrellas was a Silvan Elf who, according to the tradition of the House of Angelimir, accompanied Nimrodel from Lothlórien on her journey to the southern havens. Mithrellas, it is said, became lost in the woods of Dor-en-Ernil, where she was found by Imrazôr the Númenórean, who married her. So Elvish blood entered the line of the Princes of Dol Amroth, claimed, and her son Galador became the first in its long line.
"I completely forgot about that," Bard exchanged looks with his husband.
"There is more," Galion turned a page, and read aloud:
There are some in the line of the Kings of Dale who could understand the language of the thrushes, and some thrushes could understand the common tongue."
"Ulmo's balls…" All the air left Bard's lungs. "But I can't hear anything from thrushes," he croaked, grabbing his chest. "I'm not even sure I know what a thrush looks like, for Valar's sake!"
A glass of water was thrust into Bard's hand. "Drink this," Thranduil ordered, "before you faint."
As Bard did so, Hilda and Percy were throwing questions at Galion who was doing his best to answer.
"Better?"
Bard set the glass down and wiped his sleeve over his mouth. "Not really, but let's get on with it."
"As you wish," the Elvenking nodded. "Ruvyn, tell us everything that happened when you were walking Tilda home, please."
"It was unremarkable, My Lord." She said goodbye to her teacher and friends, and we took the usual route. The only time we stopped was at the fountain in the courtyard, and that was only for a moment…" the Elf's face lit up.
"What?" Bard asked weakly.
"She said something about the birds that were sitting on the statue as we passed by, then she turned around and took a couple of steps back."
"Oh, gods…"
"Did she say anything to you?"
"No, My Lord; she just nodded her head, and we went indoors."
"And what kind of birds were gathered at the fountain?" Galion asked.
"Many, but several thrushes were among them; I am sure of it." Ruvyn's eyes rounded in amazement.
Thranduil rested his hand on Bard's shoulder. "Daeron and I have witnessed King Girion speaking with thrushes on several occasions."
"But…" he rubbed his forehead. "Da didn't…"
"Not every King was able," Galion said. "There are those who said it skips a generation. Do you know much of your grandfather?"
"He died before I was born. Pers?"
"I didn't really know him," the man said. "He passed when I was about eight, and his wife died a year later. Brand never said anything."
"And why would he?" Hilda added. "If this was true, the safest thing they could do was to keep it a secret."
"I agree," Thranduil said. "There is also the fact that Tilda is no longer an ordinary child; she has been given the same graces as Lord Elrond's line. Who is to say that this might not have awakened this magic in her?"
"So… She really did tell me the truth? And I treated her like…" Bard's head sank into his hands. "Oh, shit… Oh, shit… I am so sorry. I am so…" He couldn't stop the tears and wished the floor would open up and swallow him.
Galion pushed the book toward Bard. "The only way we can be sure is to take her back out there and test our theory."
"Aye," Bard wiped his eyes. "I'll go get her."
"There is no need. Ruvyn?"
The guard left and soon returned with the little girl whose face reminded him of Mattie's when she got angry. She refused to look at him, and ran into Ada's arms.
"Your Da wants to tell you he is sorry," Thranduil said softly. "He was afraid for you, but Uncle Galion and I think we know what you heard."
"You do?" she sniffled and wiped her sleeve under her nose, before Thranduil could get his handkerchief. "What?"
"Ruvyn said you stopped to watch the birds?"
"Uh huh."
"Would you like to show me and Da?"
She turned and glared at Bard.
"I'm so sorry, Beanie," he pulled out his chair and opened his arms. "I was wrong, and I shouldn't have gotten upset."
"I really did hear it," she frowned.
"I know," he said. "I didn't understand. None of us understood, but Ada thinks we might be able to figure this out. Will take us outside and show us?"
Thranduil picked up Tilda, who leaned against him with her head on his shoulder, as they led the procession out of the Castle and down the steps. When they gathered around the fountain, Bard's heart started racing again.
Sure enough, when Thranduil held out a finger, a thrush perched on it and began a merry song.
Tilda's gasped her blue eyes like dinner plates. "He said he likes you, Ada!" she squealed.
"What else does he say, Tithen pen?"
She turned and concentrated on the small brownish bird. "'Tell Lady Hilda not to worry.'"
Hilda grabbed Percy's arm to steady herself. "Why would I worry?"
Tilda's nose wrinkled. "Why?" she asked the thrush.
After several seconds of excited noise and a flap of its wings, Tilda's mouth made a round O, and she began to giggle.
"What?" Hilda asked.
"Radagast…" she looked up at her Ada's face. "Can I say exactly what he said, even if it's a bad word?"
"Just this once."
"Radagast will wash all the bird shit out of his hair!" 6
Hilda's started to stammer. "H-how would he know I said that?"
Tilda laughed so hard she had to hold her sides. Thranduil hugged her to him and snickered. Percy threw back his head and howled.
"I'm…" Bard rested his hand on his forehead. "But…"
"Bard?" Thranduil turned to him.
"Ruvyn!" Percy shouted, "you'd better go grab Bard before he… oh, shit!"
Bard's head when it hit the pavement with a thunk, then everything went black.
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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
De athae i Belain – Thank the Valar
Fahrui – Hunting dogs
Famárë – Herding dogs
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NOTES:
1 Broken Wings, Ch. 35: /works/20519588/chapters/58357912
2 Elrond possesses Vilya, on of the Three Rings: /wiki/Three_Rings
3 An Invincible Summer, Ch. 38: /works/14127870/chapters/37370825
4 What Makes a King, Chs. 13-14: /works/10838010/chapters/25337991
5 Broken Wings, Ch. 3: /works/20519588/chapters/48867101
6 SCOM, Ch. 9: /works/26090521/chapters/73670958
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