Skin white as snow, lips red as blood, hair black as ebony
-4-
Thranduil had expected a number of reactions from Bard – all of which would have been acceptable. However, he knew little of the Lord of Dale, so the words that passed his lips caught him off guard.
Bard sat up straight in bed, his gaze fixed on Thranduil.
He breathed softly and seemed remarkably calm considering the revelation that the Elvenking had just made to him.
"Why?"
Thranduil felt his eyebrows furrow on his forehead. Why? Just why?
"Why would you give away a part of your heart in order to save me?" Bard resumed, misinterpreting the Elf's puzzled expression.
A minute, maybe two, passed during which Thranduil gazed at Bard from the chair he sat in, his graceful hands resting on his lap.
"I do not know," he admitted and he saw in Bard's eyes that his answer had taken him aback.
"Why wouldn't I have done it? As I told you, you were dead, Bard. There was nothing else to do except what I did."
"You could have left me the way I was… Dead," Bard replied and Thranduil heard the emotion in his voice at the last word.
A sigh slipped on the lips of the Elvenking. He leaned against the back of the chair and put his hands on the armrests of the seat, crossing his legs in an elegant gesture.
He noted with a bored look that there was not a single carafe of wine in that room.
"Your time had not come," he explained casually. "Your daughter came to me. There was a reason for that. Nothing happens by chance in these lands. I had to bring you back because it is obvious that you still have a mission to achieve down here."
"At the cost of a part of your heart?"
Thranduil allowed himself a smirk, his gaze catching the worried expression that graced Bard's face.
"My whole heart was not much use to me these days. Do not worry."
"You take this with a nonchalance that disturbs me, Your Highness. It is true that stories are told about the king of Greenwood the Great. Some of the legends that surround you petrified me when I was a child. They say you feel no emotion and your heart is cold. I know it is impossible since I feel it beating inside my chest. Besides... Your emotions are no longer a secret to me."
Thranduil could not hide his annoyance at this evidence. His jaw clenched slightly and he wrinkled his nose.
"That my emotions would become crystal clear to you was, indeed, a possibility that I considered. I was unsure of the direct consequences of this ritual."
Bard sat up further on his bed and Thranduil saw him clench his teeth: this position increased the pressure on his wound. The bowman placed the palm of his hand over the wound, above his tunic.
"My healers did what was necessary to keep the pain tolerable. Nevertheless, there it is and I am sorry that I cannot soothe you more."
"It is bearable. I am indebted to your healers for giving me such relief. Allow me to come back to the consequences you just mentioned, Your Highness. What could have happened?"
"It was possible that in the absence of your heart, your own emotions would disappear. You would have been alive but like an empty shell. However, I have observed you with your daughter and I highly doubt that is the case."
Thranduil noted the serious, strained expression that crossed Bard's face at those words. He was aware that saying all this aloud must be incredibly hard to hear but, after all, the request came from him.
"Something else?"
"This remains to be verified but a change in behavior or mood swings could occur in the long term. There is also mention of a significant variation in some habits, particularly in terms of food."
Bard raised his eyebrows, obviously lost.
"In the rare cases when this ritual has been practiced, it has been observed on even rarer occasions that the person who has returned from death no longer managed to be satisfied with the food to which the body was once accustomed."
"So what do you eat, in such a case?"
"Bard, do you really want to hear me say it?"
The bowman's gaze suddenly turned cold, eyeing the Elvenking without blinking.
"Despite the respect I have for you, King Thranduil, I am entitled to have my questions answered when it concerns my body, my heart or my mind."
"Of course…" muttered Thranduil, unsettled by the tone Bard used.
Bard had every right to show his anger: he had not asked to wake up with half an Elf's heart in his chest, the emotions of the aforementioned Elf like a burden to drag on until the end of his existence.
"You might crave raw flesh or even blood. This is a probability that we may rule out so do not think…"
"Could… Could we stop there, finally?" Bard cut him off.
Thranduil nodded.
"I am sorry, My Lord. I did not mean to upset you."
Bard raised a hand to silence the Elf. Nausea was visible on the features of his far too pale face.
"I asked for an explanation. Do not apologize."
"Certainly. However, I would have liked to formulate my remarks with more delicacy."
"Useless," Bard snapped. "I needed to understand why I was feeling your emotions and now I know why."
A new silence settled between the Man and the Elf. Bard looked down at his hands, seeming to watch them without really seeing them as Thranduil stared beyond the body of the King of Dale.
"How could we proceed that so your emotions are not so… obvious to me? Is there a way?" Bard finally asked, still looking closely at his own fingernails.
Thranduil turned his attention back to Bard – his mind had already begun to wander and a curious feeling of fatigue had once again invaded him. He had not felt this urge to return to his bed for centuries.
"I think I can be able to tame my emotions. I will be able to hide them from you and thus preserve you. It will probably take me a few days to achieve a satisfactory result, thus I hope you can still show a little patience."
A very slight smile appeared on the bowman's lips.
"Of course… I do not mind that much anyway."
Thranduil raised an eyebrow, unable to interpret the meaning of this answer.
Bard's smile widened and he lifted his head to meet the Elvenking's eyes.
"I would rather share your emotions than have to drink blood or feed on fresh entrails to survive, if I have to choose."
Thranduil could not help the smile that formed on his lips, even if it remained a very discreet one.
"Seen in this light, I share your point of view. That being said, my emotions should not become your burden. Be sure I will do what is necessary."
"Thanks…" Bard whispered, maintaining eye contact between them.
Thranduil rose from his chair, a delicate smile still present on the corner of his lips.
"There is no need to thank me, My Lord."
"No… I mean… Thanks for saving me… For bringing me back, even if the reason for such a gesture still completely escapes me. Thank you for giving me this chance, no matter the consequences."
Thranduil felt half his heart twitch with force at those words and he inwardly cursed himself when he saw Bard's brow furrow as the bowman had sensed his emotion.
Bard was courteous, however, and he did not question Thranduil, no doubt aware that he had no right to know his host's innermost thoughts. The Elvenking was both relieved and grateful.
He put a hand on his chest and nodded in Bard's direction.
"Rest, Bard. You need to recover your strength, and I have already taken too much of your time."
Bard nodded back and Thranduil spun around to leave the room. When he passed the locked cupboard, he thought that perhaps he should have opened it to reveal its contents to the bowman.
No... It was a bad idea at the moment. Bard had enough information to digest and he needed calm, rest and time for himself.
As he walked down the wide corridors that led him to his chamber, Thranduil heard Bard's last words echoing within his mind. No matter the consequences...
He was not quite sure if the Lord of Dale would still think so when he learned that to keep half the heart that was now beating inside his chest, he was going to have to marry the one who gave it to him.