Skin white as snow, lips red as blood, hair black as ebony
-7-
Thranduil remained silent, his gray-blue eyes locked with Bard's, normally filled with gentleness and kindness but now saturated with cold anger. He felt the bowman's fingers leave his chest and he felt a great emptiness he could not put a name to.
"I do not understand. What is the connection between what you have accomplished and a marriage?"
Thranduil could feel a pent-up rage vibrate in Bard's voice.
He looked away and began to button up his tunic.
Bard's fingers closed sharply on his wrist and the Elf almost flinched. The gesture had been abrupt and violent. He noted that Bard's strength seemed increased tenfold.
Or would it be mine that would start to decrease?
"Answer me. You cannot tell me that we have to wed and leave me like this."
Thranduil looked down at the fingers that gripped his wrist, looking deliberately annoyed, then looked up to meet Bard's.
"I am thinking about the words I need to use to explain this to you," he said.
"We will dispense with this effort, Your Highness. It seems to me that you have kept me away from your secrets for far too long and I now demand an explanation. You owe it to me."
Bard's voice was still cold and harsh, and he had put a sarcastic intonation in the use of the Elf title.
"Let go of my wrist and perhaps I will agree to grant your request, My Lord," Thranduil replied just as dryly, with the same irony concerning Bard's rank.
He knew Bard's reaction was justified. He had indeed hidden a heavy truth from him and was now paying the price for it. However, not without a certain astonishment, he realized that his legendary patience was failing him more and more as the days went by. He still felt a deep fatigue, along with a headache that he was struggling to calm down.
He got dressed before speaking, his gaze lost on the garden that surrounded them.
"I am sorry Bard. I should have warned you of this… consequence from the start, but the perfect time to do so did not present itself. I did not know how to tell you such tidings. To be completely honest, I, too, needed time to accept this information."
"Did you know that we had to… be bound like this before performing the ritual?"
"I did."
"And despite that, you did it all the way?"
"Yes, I did."
"Just to bring me back to life? Why? Why me?"
"I do not know. I have already told you."
"Would you have done it for someone else?"
Thranduil stared at Bard for a moment, the bowman's question echoing in his mind.
"I do not know," he finally replied. "We have had a similar conversation before, Bard. I will say it again: your time had not come."
Bard shook his head and Thranduil saw him distinctly grit his teeth, jaw clenched.
"One does not share his heart on a whim. Even less when such a deed means marriage, Thranduil."
"Do we really need to go in this direction?" Thranduil asked with an almost palpable weariness.
He massaged his temples with his fingertips and in that moment, he did not care if his annoyance could possibly affect Bard.
"Did you act out of sheer strategy?"
"What do you mean?" the Elf retorted, concentrating on his temples throbbing against his fingers.
"A marriage would officially unite our two kingdoms and give us ascendancy over the northern territories, given your military might and Dale's strategic position as a trading hub."
"Do you think I am that manipulative?" Thranduil replied in a weary voice. He could not believe what he was hearing.
"I do not think anything at all. I do not know you."
"Bard… I am not the one who plunged a blade into your belly. I am the one who did what was necessary to save you."
"But at what cost? To the point of being able to marry me in a simply disinterested way?"
Thranduil let out a sigh. Bard had every right to feel betrayed and furious, but he was losing patience. Bard pushed him to his limits, tried to analyze the slightest gesture, the slightest decision having led him to the current situation and he himself did not have all the answers.
"Yes, to that point."
"Why?" Bard asked again, frowning.
"I do not know Bard! I imagine that the idea of knowing you were dead was unbearable to me because… because, despite the image you have of me, know that the one I have of you is very different. I hold you in high esteem. You have achieved feats of which few men would have been capable. Do you even realize it? How could I for a moment consider depriving the world of a being of your calibre when you still have so much to accomplish? It would have been a waste."
This admission seemed to have the effect of a cold shower on Bard. Thranduil cast a weary look on him and noticed that the anger had deserted the green and brown pupils to give way to sincere astonishment.
"You gave half your heart and accepted the idea of uniting with me because you did not want to deprive the world of my presence?" he continued softly, in a voice that shone with incomprehension.
"Yes," Thranduil admitted.
Deep down, however, he was well aware that there was probably another reason for his action, but for the moment, he was unable to put words to what he felt.
Bard said nothing and the silence between them stretched for long minutes, broken only by the chirping of birds celebrating spring and the wind playing in the leaves of the trees.
It was Thranduil who spoke again, in a calm and benevolent tone in spite of the pain that hammered his skull – starting his night's sleep in the middle of the afternoon did not seem such an incoherent idea as he could bear the fatigue that weighed on his shoulders less and less.
"I have known a certain number of Men during my existence and among them, there have been too few who possessed the values that you carry without even realizing it. It was unfair to see you perish like this and not try anything to keep you around for a while longer. Arda needs a soul like yours because you have the bravery to change things and make this world a better place. Dale needs the ruler you have become because you earned that title instead of just inheriting it without having to do anything heroic for it. Your children need their father because he is able to protect them from dragons and because they have already suffered the loss of a mother."
I need you, a voice whispered in his head though he refused to say this aloud because he did not know the reason why he felt the visceral need to know Bard was alive.
His eyes once again met Bard's and he was relieved to find there the usual softness that inhabited those forest-coloured eyes. Bard's gaze was that of a fair, dedicated and good person with others. How could he have agreed to let him go?
Questions seemed to race in Bard's eyes, each more essential than the next. However, he seemed to put them aside with a slight frown and only asked one.
"What would our union consist of?"
Thranduil felt a slight relief wash over him at this change in attitude on Bard's part. He had been around the bowman too little time to understand his reactions, nonetheless he had not failed to notice that Bard was a rational and clever man, quick to weigh all the arguments brought to his attention before making a decision.
"My research indicates that in the event of such a ritual, since the heart is split between two souls, it is necessary for these to become soulmates through the bonds of marriage."
"And what would happen if we were not united in marriage?"
Thranduil knew from his look that Bard was already considering all the options at his disposal.
"The writings record a case where this happened. The Elves who shared a heart had not been united by marriage because one of them had already bound his fëa to another Elf. They had performed the ritual without being aware of this condition and I assume that they were then among the first to perform it otherwise they would never have acted in this way."
"What happened to them?"
"In the absence of an official union, they both died because their hearts stopped beating, the ritual not having been respected in its entirety."
Thranduil marked a voluntary silence, giving Bard time to digest this information. The bowman frowned, his lips slightly parted.
"So if we are not united in marriage, we will both die?"
"As I told you, I have found no trace of any shared heart between an Elf and a Man therefore I do not know if the consequences are precisely the same as in the case of two Elves or quite different..."
"But it would be wiser not to take that risk, wouldn't it?" Bard asked softly and Thranduil nodded thoughtfully.
"We could take it. I just want to share with you all the information in my possession. In no case will I force you to unite with me when I acted impulsively and unreasonably."
The hand Bard placed on his hand nearly startled Thranduil. He looked up and met Bard's gaze, a gaze filled only with kindness towards him.
"Are you saying that you are ready to die if I refuse to be joined to you in marriage? When you sacrificed half your heart to let me live?"
"Yes," he said simply as he did not know what words to add to that.
"Thranduil…" Bard whispered.
"It is not about pretending, Bard," Thranduil cut in suddenly; he had to be honest to the end. "It would be an official union and the other kingdoms would know about it. The rules are strict in the art of this magic and we will not be able to deceive the powers that allowed me to bring you back. You should be aware of this when making your decision."
Bard looked stunned but Thranduil had to continue.
"I leave you to be the decision maker. I will accept your choice, whatever it is, because I am solely responsible for the situation in which you find yourself today."
"Would you agree without flinching to renounce this thousands-year-old existence if I decided not to honour our union?" Bard reformulated in a lower voice, more for himself than for Thranduil. "Would you be able to abandon your forest, your kingdom and everything you hold dear?"
"My son would become King of Greenwood," Thranduil replied pragmatically. "With the exception of Legolas, there is nothing keeping me here."
A new silence settled between the Elf and the Man, one seeming to think about the next part of the conversation, the other seeming to consider the words exchanged a little earlier.
"Am I entitled to a time to think?" Bard inquired.
Thranduil met his gaze and saw a faint blush tinge the bowman's pale cheeks.
"In case you leave it up to me to make that decision, of course," he added hastily.
Thranduil gave a tired smile.
"Be sure I will not go back on my word."
He paused then resumed in a tone that he wanted to be as detached as possible:
"Among the Elves, the betrothed exchange a ring and this day marks the beginning of their engagement, which then lasts a year. At the end of this year, if the engagement has not been broken, they choose a date for the wedding."
Thranduil watched Bard's reactions, anticipating any questions. Nevertheless, the bowman just nodded, inviting him to continue.
"I am not used to wedding traditions among Men. As far as we are concerned, a ceremony takes place during which vows are exchanged, as well as new rings which replace those of the betrothal and which the newlyweds wear on the forefinger."
At those words, Thranduil saw Bard's eyes rest on his hands and take in the silver ring that adorned his left forefinger. When Bard looked up, a silent question in his eyes, Thranduil smiled sadly.
"This is the ring given to me by Mereneth, my wife. I could not bring myself to take it off when I lost her."
Thranduil knew from the saddened expression on Bard's face that his fellow could share his grief at the thought of a missing wife. He did not know anything about the circumstances surrounding the death of Bard's spouse, yet he guessed that it must have been at least as difficult and painful as it has been for him.
This strange moment of communion over, Thranduil carefully cleared his throat, fully aware that half his heart was beating much faster than usual at the thought of the words that were about to pass his lips.
"That being said, vows and rings are not enough to bind two souls together among my people."
Thranduil saw Bard frown slightly, questioningly. He took a deep breath.
"Physical consummation is a required step to recognize the marriage as valid. Only thus can our fëar be bound together."
Thranduil could see the exact moment his words made sense in Bard's mind as the blush gradually spread across his pale cheeks. He saw his lips form a silent "o" and his green and brown eyes avoided his for a few seconds.
"The fëa is a word which, in your language, is related to the spirit or the soul. When two Elves are bound, they share the same soul, and it is through the union of their bodies – the hröa – that their souls intertwine with each other forever – except in rare cases when "always" simply becomes "for a certain amount of time"."
"As in your case?" Bard asked softly, having found the courage to meet the Elf's gaze.
Thranduil nodded, but refrained from letting his thoughts take him back to a distant and difficult time.
"In general, if one of the two disappears, the one who remains does not manage to recover from the loss for the wrench is violent. The bereaved Elf can leave Arda then and go to Valinor to get back to the soul of his or her spouse."
"You have not left. How is it possible?"
Thranduil smiled faintly. Despite this most unusual conversation, despite the revelations he had just heard, Bard's quick and curious mind took precedence over the rest and the bowman's questions always turned out to be unexpected, the exact opposite of those that anyone in his place would have asked.
"Why are you smiling?"
"Because you are surprising, Bard," Thranduil replied frankly. "I am telling you that we are going to have to get married and have physical intercourse to keep our hearts beating and you only worry about understanding why I am still here when my wife died centuries ago."
"Well?" Bard replied. "How did you do?"
"I am the king of Greenwood the Great. I had to put aside the husband that I was in order to watch over my people and protect them. I guess that was enough to keep me from losing my mind. Do you have any questions related to the topics we just covered?"
With this wording, Thranduil hoped that the conversation would end. He felt tired and his headache was not abating. Besides, he had no desire to evoke the memory of Mereneth with Bard when they were only at the beginning of their (strange) relationship.
"Dozens," Bard admitted with a smile. "But I can see you seem somewhere else and… tired, if I may say so. I am confused and I need some time to get my thoughts in order. In all honesty, I feel like I have been living in a dream for some time, as everything around me seems so unreal..."
"I am sorry for that, Bard as I know my share of responsibility for what happened to you."
Bard once again placed a reassuring hand on Thranduil's and shook his head.
"It goes back to long before you came into my existence. Dwarves, Orcs, a dragon, the battle... Sometimes I feel like it is all just a very long dream and I am going to wake up eventually. I never thought my life would change so much."
Then, without another word about it, Bard removed his hand from Thranduil's, stood up – the Elf could only notice how more graceful the bowman was – and glanced at the coffer next to Thranduil.
"May I?"
"I told you so," Thranduil replied, following his gaze. He picked up the casket and carefully handed it to Bard. "It is yours."
"Thank you," Bard replied. Thranduil noted the faint sigh that heaved his chest. "We will see each other tonight for dinner, won't we?"
Thranduil nodded and let his eyes linger on Bard. He watched him walk away through the gardens, toward the palace, aware that this conversation had been long, rambling and exhausting.
Therefore, he put his own thoughts in a corner of his mind, where they could not disturb him, he left the bench and returned to his room, invaded by a weariness so deep that only a very long nap could make it disappear.