Chapter Thirty-Two

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SUMMARY: Vildan hits his breaking point and makes his case to sail. And sadly, Elladan thinks he might be right, that he'd been selfish in his effort to keep Vildan on Middle Earth.

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"Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired."

– Robert Frost

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Rivendell, 3rd of August 2946 T.A.

Vildan sat in the chair, gritted his teeth and lifted his legs again, and again.

And again.

Day after day, week after week, Vildan's days were filled with exercises, massages, hot compresses, more massages and more exercises. And all the while, the hot-needle pain of regenerating nerves was constant, except at night when Elladan had to put him under a losta-luith. He was tired. He was discouraged. He dreaded waking up to face another day. He dreaded everything.

The afternoon skies were dark with angry clouds, so much so that the lamps were lit in Vildan's sitting room. There was no birdsong today; they were busy seeking shelter from the rain that pounded on the diamond-paned windows.

"Bend the knee, now, straighten. Move the foot in a circular motion," Elladan droned. "Keep going, you are doing fine."

The rage that had been building for weeks in Vildan finally exploded. "I am not doing fine!" he ground out. "I hurt, I am weak, and I am tired of all of this." He put his legs down, grabbed a clay figurine statue on the table beside him, and threw it across the room, where it smashed against the bookshelf into thousands of pieces. Instantly, Vildan regretted it. "Ai, naergon," he slumped back.

Elladan's gaze went from the mess back to Vildan. "Melui made that for you."

"I am so sorry." He moaned and covered his eyes. "I detest losing my temper like this."

"I know," Elladan came over and rested his hand on Vildan's shoulder. "I will see about getting it cleaned up, but you are going to have to figure out what to say to your child. It does not matter that it is an unrecognizable lump, she was proud of it."

"I have been trying, but I cannot do this." Tears stung Vildan's eyes. "I do not think I can stay, Elladan."

His friend's reaction, or lack of reaction, surprised him. Vildan was waiting for the protest, for the disappointment, for outrage. Instead, Elladan heaved a sigh and took a seat on the couch opposite him. He let Vildan weep without offering trite words of comfort, and for that, he was grateful.

"You have been thinking about this," Elladan said quietly, when the moments passed.

"I have," Vildan admitted, rubbing the heels of his hand across his eyes. "I wanted to try. To make sure I would be doing the right thing. It is not just the fact that I am crippled, or the constant sensation of hot needles, although that is bad enough. I find myself wishing Lord Elrond would just cut my legs off and be done with it.

"But it is more than that. I miss my sister and Narseg. I see them every time I look into Melui's face, and I wonder if I can be a good parent."

"You cannot sail to see them, Mellon. Most likely they will still be in Mandos's Halls."

"I know, but I want to be whole, and I do not see that happening here. And if there is a chance Melui could see her parents sooner, I want that for her."

Elladan shook his head slightly. "Yet you know that Lord Thranduil has foreseen we will be leaving these shores within the next two centuries. You also know that my father and Mithrandir agree, as well as my grandmother."

"What do you want from me?" Vildan threw his hands up. "There is nothing left for me here! Melui will be safe in Valinor—she will not have to endure the war. That alone is reason enough to go, because that is what Meássë and Narseg would want. If I stay, what help can I possibly be? Melui would feel compelled to care for me," he banged his fist on the arm of the chair, "and that I will not allow!

"Should the Great War come as predicted, can you imagine me sitting here like that lump Melui made for me, unable to defend my people, unable to defend my child, unable to defend even myself? Put yourself in my place: would you want that, Elladan? Would you?"

"No," Elladan's eyes lowered. "I would not. But I do think you are giving up too soon. Ada has not said anything about your condition becoming permanent."

"He has said nothing to indicate that I will be cured, either." Vildan's voice broke, and he struggled to get himself under control. "I have so little to love about my life here, and I think if I stay, I will fade."

"Are you sure?"

"I am. I do not know what to tell Melui—"

Elladan raised his hand. "She knows, Vildan. She told me weeks ago."

Vildan's jaw dropped and his eyes rounded. "And she is…"

"She is sad, but said no more about it," Elladan rose and went to kneel by his chair. "Vildan, you are my dearest friend, and I do not want you to go. None of us do. But neither do I want you to struggle to stay to please others, and injure your fëa. Let me ask you this: is the only thing preventing you from staying your health?"

"Is that not enough?" Vildan's head swayed wearily. "I was a soldier, Elladan. I was Vanguard! What am I now? A cripple! I have endured pain in the past, and bravely. I thought I could manage this. But in the end, I am a coward. To suffer every moment of my waking hours, unable to take three steps in a row before falling… Every day, it sucks the life out of me. Every day I am depressed and so, so tired." He turned to meet Elladan's eyes. "But my pain is not just physical. You know that."

Elladan pursed his lips and hesitated before asking in a soft voice, "Tauriel?"

Vildan's face crumpled and his eyes filled again. "I love her so much," he sobbed. "I thought time would heal the emptiness inside, but it grows. Every day it grows, and I do not think I can stand it anymore. Even if she knew about me, King Thranduil's council upheld her banishment, and she must stay in the North and protect the Prince and Princesses. It would hurt her to know the truth and not be able to come."

"And even if she still wanted me, how could I get to her, Elladan? Tell me, how I could cross the Misty Mountains? It would be too humiliating to be carried there, and offer her what? A life of constant care and obligation? She deserves more than that."

I want to feel," he beat his chest, "something, anything in my fëa except grief. I want something to hope for, but I do not see it, can you understand that?"

Crestfallen, Elladan was ready to cry himself. He reached for Vildan's hand and gripped it tight. "I am truly sorry we cannot do more."

"Me too." Vildan smiled through his tears. I would have fought alongside you for all of my days.

"I know." Elladan stood and kissed his friend's forehead. "I will speak to Ada. But first, let me clear up that mess before Melui sees it."

Elladan's vision swam as he left Vildan's apartment. Melui and her caretaker had returned, and they were readying their evening meal. As always, Elladan was invited to join them, but he begged off. He had no appetite.

He stopped just before the corridor to his father's office. On impulse, he changed direction and headed to the green houses to sit among growing things and think.

The clouds reflected the dull grey that was in Vildan's eyes. How had Elladan not noticed that? Was he so intent on having things his way that he refused to see it? He still had that sense that it was not over, but was that a good enough reason to force Vildan to stay?

What a selfish oaf he had been! Why hadn't he made himself see how miserable Vildan was. Shame washed over him. Ada was right; it didn't matter what anybody else wanted for Vildan, he needed to do what was best for himself and for Melui.

Images of his mother Celebrian appeared in his mind. She was so beautiful, so strong, stronger than every Elf in Rivendell besides Ada. And when she became ill she fought it with everything in her. Naneth, would never have left her beloved family and would have died trying. In the end, it was Ada who made the decision to let her go. Out of love.

And Vildan wanted to go, out of love, too. He wanted Melui to be safe. He wanted to give her a chance to rejoin her parents. He wanted Tauriel to be spared an impossible burden. At least that's what Vildan believed, and at this point, it didn't matter what anyone else thought about that.

Elladan missed his mother every day. As did Ada and Elrohir, of course. Always. But Vildan had lost almost his entire family. Who was he to decide that marrying Tauriel would make up for that? A wave of shame washed over him, and he sank down on a nearby bench and stared at the floor.

"You look rather glum," a deep voice said.

Elladan looked up and met bright blue eyes under heavy grey brows. "I was thinking."

"About?" Mithrandir took the seat beside him and pulled out his pipe.

"My mother. How awful it was for her before we took her to Mithlond." He swallowed down the pain in his throat. "How hard it was to say goodbye."

"You rarely speak of that," the wizard said, tapping his pipe. "What brought this on?"

"I was wrong about Vildan, I think," Elladan's mouth turned down. "I thought he would be better by now."

"So did I." Mithrandir shook his head. "But we mustn't give up hope, even if he wants to."

"I told him I would speak to Ada."

The wizard's eyebrow flew up. "About what?" he asked in a suspicious tone.

"He wants to go, Mithrandir. Ada cannot stop him if that is what he truly wants."

Mithrandir lit the tobacco, took several long pulls and blew out a series of smoke rings that turned into flowers. "What does Legolas say?"

"Legolas?" Elladan's brows drew together.

The pipe fell to the wizards lap as he skewered Elladan with a dark stare. "What in Mordor does that mean? You never asked him?"

"Ask him what?"

Mithrandir looked around to make sure no one heard them. "You were supposed to write Legolas a letter and ask for his help!" he hissed.

"I was not!" Elladan cried. "Ada told us not to—"

"Not to tell Tauriel, you dolt! But he didn't say anything about Legolas! I told you 'not to go against your father's specific orders.' Any idiot would know what I meant by that!"

"Well I did not!"

"Exactly. You're not just an idiot, you're a stupid idiot! I thought I made myself clear that day I came to see you! You got up and said," Mithrandir made air quotes, and said in a mocking tone, "'Excuse me, I have to…'" 1

"Well, yes, I did but—"

"Did you or did you not write a letter that day?" the wizard scowled.

"Not to Legolas! Long ago, I told him Vildan's silence has nothing to do with his feelings for Tauriel." he was off the bench and waving his arms. "Vildan just asked me what I would want if I was in that position, and I had to admit I would feel the same. I am glad I did not betray his trust, even if I thought it would be for his own good!"

Mithrandir stood and waved his arms right back. "So, who did you write to then? I saw that bird leave with an escort! So did your father!"

"Wait," Elladan's mouth went slack. "Ada was in on that?"

"Of course, he was! What did you expect him to do? Break his own laws?"

"But he said—"

"Yes, he said. But that didn't mean he didn't want you and your erstwhile brother to find a loophole in that law!"

Elladan jerked his head back in outrage. "You wanted us to cheat!"

"Yes, I did! And if all the times for you two to actually behave yourselves and do as you're told, you picked THIS?" Mithrandir paced in a small circle. "I can't believe it. I should have let the two of you be blown up in the forest that day." His eyes turned up, beseeching the dark clouds. "Save me from the absurdity of these two!" 2

Elladan still couldn't absorb this. "Ada wanted us to go behind Vildan's back and tell Legolas…"

"Pay attention," Mithrandir whacked the top of Elladan's head with his pipe.

"Naeg!" he rubbed his head.

"Elrond wants Vildan to stay as much as you do," the wizard said slowly, as if Elladan was a child. "You aren't the only one who feels that there is a reason they have to stay."

And just like that, all the fight drained out of Elladan. "What if we're wrong?" he asked sadly, his gaze on the wooden planks of the greenhouse. "What if we are hurting him, not helping him?"

"Nonsense! What does your heart tell you?"

Elladan sat back down and considered this. "At this moment, I do not know." He turned to face Mithrandir, who also resumed his seat. "What does your heart tell you?"

"My position still stands." The wizard fiddled with the pipe. "I don't know if it's Vildan who is needed, or if it's Melui, but we have to think of something." He took out his small knife and scrubbed out the pipe, before putting it back into his pocket. Then he turned to Elladan, bushy grey brows raised. "Are you going to tell me who you wrote to?"

"It was just an idea I had," Elladan shrugged sheepishly. "You will think it foolish."

"I probably will," the wizard smirked, "but tell me anyway."

Elladan took a deep breath and blew it out.

Then he told him.

Mithrandir froze, blinking at him.

Then he threw back his head and laughed.

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888

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Lothlórien, 22nd of August 2946 T.A.

This morning, Bard went out onto the balcony of their rooms in the Lord and Lady's house, and leaned his hands on the railing. He inhaled through his nose and took in the scent of blooming flowers, the crisp dew on the leaves of the Mallorn trees. Never in all his years, had he imagined he'd be standing here today.

Was it only five years ago that he was a poor, depressed Bargeman dressed in rags, barely able to feed his kids and keep the roof from leaking? Yet here he was, not only in the most magical place in Middle Earth, but he was also an honored guest.

Ulmo's balls, an honored guest of the Queen of the Elves and her consort.

Tur and Evvy's wedding had been lovely. During the ceremony, Thranduil took his hand and interlaced their fingers, and it was obvious they were thinking of the same thing. Their own ceremony was plain, rustic and nowhere near as large as the one they were witnessing. 3 But as anyone in that position will tell you, the trappings mean nothing. Only the eyes of their beloved, the joy in their hearts, and hopes for a new future.

This is the first chance Bard had had since his arrival to pause and take a quiet moment to appreciate the magnificence of the Golden Wood. And this was the first time since the destruction of Laketown that he truly felt free of the burden of Kingship. How much lighter he felt without that weight! Was it the distance, or was it the magic of this place, or was it the Lady herself?

For just as she had done with everyone who enters her land, Bard, son of Brand, King of Dale and its Surrounding Lands was brought before Galadriel and Celeborn and he, too, stood before the Lady as she looked deep into his mind and soul.

Thranduil tried to prepare him, but he also warned Bard that words couldn't fully describe it. "If your heart is pure, and your cause is noble, which I know it is, then you have nothing to worry about," he'd said. Even so, he came away from it trembling. Whether in fear of seeing such power, knowing there was much more he couldn't comprehend, or relief at not being found wanting, he'd probably never know.

And oh, that staircase! Praise the stars, their hosts were considerate of their guests and prepared a cottage for Hilda and Percy on the Forest Floor. Neither one of them could manage that climb. Even Sigrid and Bain grew tired. They both were suspicious of their younger sister, who trotted up ahead of them, holding her Ada's hand and pointing at every interesting thing to her brother and sister, as if she were their tour guide. 4

After they enjoyed a meal and a rest, Galadriel offered Sigrid and Bain the use of a flet on one of the lower levels for their convenience, to which the Crown Prince and Princess gratefully accepted, but Tilda was assigned a room next to Bard and Thranduil. Not that they'd seen much of her. Since their arrival, Lady Arwen and their youngest developed an instant rapport and Tilda was either with her or Galadriel and Celeborn. Bard had joked to Thranduil last night that he hoped they'd give her back when it was time to go home.

Strong arms snaked around his waist, and Bard was pulled back against a solid, warm chest dressed in silk. Soft lips nuzzled the crook of his neck with kisses.

"Good morning, love," Bard smiled as he relaxed into him.

"It is a good morning, is it not?" Thranduil ran his fingers through Bard's hair. "I love how untamed your hair becomes at night."

"Hmmm…." Bard turned in Thranduil's arms. "I love how untamed you become at night."

He stood on tiptoe and captured his Elf's mouth in a hard, toe-curling kiss that increased in urgency until Thranduil pulled back, his cheeks pink and his eyes dark with desire.

"Shall we go back to bed, so I can show you I am just as wild during the day?"

"Sounds like a plan." Bard took Thranduil by the hand and led him back to bed.

Robes were pulled off and discarded in a heap on the floor, followed by nightshirts and leggings. Thranduil pushed Bard onto the bed and crawled on top of him, nestling between his legs until his cock was pressed between them against the heat of Thranduil's rigid length.

"I cannot wait," the Elf panted, staring down at him through half-lidded eyes, as he began to move against him. "It's too much."

By this time, Bard was unable to form words. His only response was to lock his legs around his husband's hips and meet his thrusts. His moans became growls and grunts of pleasure as they strained against each other. Bard had to put his hand against the headboard to keep from banging his head, as he met each of Thranduil's thrusts with strength of his own, faster and stronger until at last, Bard threw back his head and cried out. Hot, sticky liquid flooded his abdomen, soon joined by Thranduil's own as he chased and found his own release.

They held each other for several minutes, faces buried in each other's necks, enjoying this beautiful, private world that was just the two of them.

"I don't think I've told you how much I love you, today." Bard wheezed.

"I believe you just showed me," Thranduil chuckled softly. "I love you, too."

He rolled off and settled onto his side facing Bard and ran his finger over his stomach, combining their seed. He leered at Bard as he brought it to his mouth and sucked, and didn't that just make Bard's cock stand up and pay attention. Well, try too, anyway. But still. Damn…

"You bastard," Bard's eyes narrowed.

"My parents would disagree," Thranduil smirked.

They kissed again and again, this time softly, unhurriedly, lingeringly. For here in the Golden Wood, there were no meetings to attend, no appointments, no tours, nothing but weeks of relaxing whims. Bard and his husband were truly, truly at their leisure and he planned to make the most of it.

But the knock on the door of their chambers indicated otherwise.

"My Lord Thranduil? My Lord Bard? Mithrandir and the Lady need to speak with you right away."

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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

Naeg! – OW!

NOTES:

1 SCOM, Ch. 30: /works/26090521/chapters/97696623

2 Ibid. Ch. 17: /works/26090521/chapters/79447126

3 WMAK, Ch. 21: /works/10838010/chapters/26098071

4 An Invincible Summer, Ch. 40: /works/10838010/chapters/26098071

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