Bard was relieved to see his son on the back of a horse behind an elf.
Sliding off, he hurried to his father. "Is it true, Da?" Bain asked. "Is the lady dead?"
"That's what they are telling me. I haven't been inside the healing tent to see for myself."
"What are you going to do?"
"For now, we will wait here. The elves might rescind their offer to educate you and your sister after this and I need to know."
They stood with the milling lords outside the healing tent where the lady's body lay. Of the ranking lords, there was no sign. A flash of light caught his eye and he and Bain turned to see Glorfindel pushing through elves, that when they spotted him started asking questions. He didn't reply and disappeared inside the tent that had no less than four heavily armed guards keeping non-invited elves out.
Glorfindel looked around. "So much for keeping watch over me. You would rather watch Galadriel rest. I'm hurt."
"Careful," Elrond warned. "Celeborn decked me for suggesting the Lady might not be in the halls of Mandos."
"I don't think she made it that far," Glorfindel cheerfully replied. "In fact, I beat her to our final destinations. She decided to stop off at her parents place on her way to Mandos' Halls, or so I've been told."
Thráin was stopped immediately by elven guards before he took a dozen steps across the bridge. "Nobody enters," the guard stated and added with disdain, "not even dwarven kings."
Another guard from Imladris standing beside his fellow warrior forego chain of command protocol and mentally contacted Lord Glorfindel directly. 'M'lord Glorfindel, King Thráin is being prevented from entering our area.' The common soldiers were unaware Lord Glorfindel made a hasty trip to Taniquetil.
'Do nothing until we arrive.' Without a word, he departed the tent in a blur calling for Erestor to join him. Erestor didn't think to question and followed his fellow seneschal, keeping pace, watching elves jump aside as they ran by.
Thráin looked up into the grey eyes of the elf holding a spear at his throat. "I AM going to the elven leaders and I don't think you have the authority to stop me," he declared forcefully.
"He doesn't," Glorfindel called out.
Thráin looked behind the warrior and saw Glorfindel and Erestor joining them.
The warrior turned and gave a head bow to the lords removing the spear from accidently harming the king. "My orders from King Thranduil state that nobody is to enter."
"I should have known you are one of Thranduil's," Erestor replied scornfully. "Green elves aren't known for their ability to reason or exhibit common courtesy."
"King Thráin, you are welcome into our camp," Glorfindel added. He looked at the warrior. "I will have words with Thranduil, but you are relieved of any posting except guarding the cooks. Dismissed."
The warriors looked like he wanted to protest, but saw a hand drop to the hilt of the sword. He hurried away from the silent snickers of fellow elves.
Thráin addressed the lords together. "I heard about Lady Galadriel and cannot leave things between dwarves and elves thus. I spent too many years at Dol Guldur and know who the real enemy is."
"You are a Durin reincarnate at heart. I haven't heard such wisdom from a dwarf since Durin VI died," Erestor told him as they walked at a slower pace back to the healing tent.
If the elves inside the tent were surprised to see Thráin with Glorfindel and Erestor, they gave no sign. He moved to stand beside Bard and Bain. All seemed to be waiting for something and he was ignored by everyone, even Gandalf, although the wizard smiled in his direction once.
Without a sound the tent lit with a brilliant light that made seeing hard and everyone squinted and took a knee although none had ever seen a Valar besides Glorfindel and Mithrandir. Glorfindel and Erestor pulled the humans and Thráin down with them.
Thráin realized he was in the presence of a God or Valar. The form solidified and they could see a beautiful being with a light shining about his aura that made seeing his features distinctly impossible.
Celeborn sank to a knee, but kept his gaze on the ethereal figure. He was ready to beg and plead for the return of his wife.
"I am Lord Námo or in your tongue, Mandos." The voice rolled like thunder and even Thranduil was speechless, his eyes wide open.
"My wife?" Celeborn asked. Although he interacted regularly with the Maiar during the War of the Wrath, it was his first glimpse of an actual Valar. It wasn't until that war that he even acknowledged they existed, although Melian told him they did, as did his wife.
Mandos waved a hand over her body. "Come back to us, Galadriel."
Her breast rose and fell and Celeborn reached for her hand just as her eyes opened. He didn't care if he offended a god; he rose and leaned over her face, one hand firmly in hers and the other stroking her brow in wonder. He felt their fëas reconnect and poured his love into her, not caring about those witnessing.
Without another word, as fast as he appeared, Mandos vanished.
Gandalf recovered first. "My Lady, welcome back."
"Help me to sit." She tugged on Celeborn's hand with the one firmly in his grip and the other reached up to stroke his cheek.
Carefully, like handling fragile glass, her husband assisted until she was sitting on the edge of the high healing bed. "I have much to tell."
"And you shall, but we have a situation that needs to be fixed so dwarves and elves don't go to war." When her eyes focused from her husband to Gandalf, he continued. "When you left your body, elves and dwarves were brought to the edge of war."
"Whatever for?" She hardly thought what she went through worthy of a war. "Couldn't the elves and dwarves just gotten together and sang songs for my journey?" She slipped off the table and into her husband's arms.
He pulled her tight and let his lips claim hers.
"Well, that could have waited until we got her story," Gandalf grumbled to the laughing inhabitants of the tent.
"I say we let them have a few moments privacy," Círdan suggested. "Celeborn, when you come up for air, bring her to my tent."
Thranduil and Elrond were both happy for Celeborn in that he didn't join them enduring this land with a missing or dead spouse, but seeing the reunion brought back the stark reality that holding their loved ones was far away and for Thranduil, maybe never.
"Mandos didn't even tell me of my wife," Thranduil muttered quietly to Elrond as they moved between tents behind the others.
"Or how my wife is fairing," Elrond commiserated back.
"Don't you dare die on me again." Celeborn laid down the law when their need to breath overruled their desire to join in the flesh.
"I heard a nagging noise that we should join Círdan and friends," she reminded him.
"Do you really think I plan on doing anything he asks?" Celeborn thought her mad. "I'm taking you to our tent and examining every inch of your beautiful body."
"And keep everyone waiting, including King's Bard and Thráin?" Her teasing brought a rare smile to his face.
"I'm sure they will wait," he groused, "although I wish we could leave today and not stop until I have you safe in the Mallorns."
"Then I suggest we get my examination over with," she teased and they smiled into the other's eyes.
There were many gasps from the elves when Celeborn led his wife from the healing tent and the head healers from all realms, which were banned when Elrond asked them to leave after his wounded lip was healed, smiled and bowed in respect. They saw the light from outside the tent and knew a power of healing far greater than theirs was at work.
Inside their tent, Celeborn ordered Azthêla to depart. The shocked servant wanted to hug her mistress, but instead murmured she was overjoyed to see the lady. She rushed to find her husband and share how the lady looked and how Lord Celeborn held her hand possessively and his eyes never left her.
Celeborn let her help with his armor and he her gown. Stripped, they stood proudly before their mate and Celeborn let his eyes rove over her nude body. He turned her around for inspection. Finally, he led her to their cot. There he rejoined them in physical form that matched their yearning fëas. The first time was fast and hard, causing her to cry out and claw his back, leaving scratches that seeped blood. The second time, she took control and he lay on his back while she had her way with him. Leaving him destroyed among the sheets, she rose and went to the wash basin. Cleaning up, she saw he hadn't risen, but was watching her every move.
"What?" She smiled after asking.
"It's like we have a new beginning. I was ready to die and join you in the Halls of the dead. I may have injured Elrond when he suggested you weren't dead."
"May have?"
He rose and reached for his silken underwear. "Sometimes I like hitting him. He did marry our daughter and take her away from us."
She wet a cloth and cleaned his scratches, running healing hands to hide her fingernail marks. "It's been a very long time since my nails left my stamp on you."
He pulled his shirt over his head. "I'm not letting the healers fix them. It's nobody's business what you are capable in bed."
Her, "I saw Celebrían," had him dropping a boot and reaching for her again.
His eyes darkened in sorrow. "She didn't make it? She is residing in Mandos' Halls?"
"No, dear heart, I only got as far as Adar's. She was sitting with the family telling a story about the twins and the time we traveled home from Thranduil's wedding."
"Those two still managed to get into trouble even with four hundred warriors watching over them." Celeborn remembered the story well, as he was there. "How did she look?"
"Healed; at least on the outside. I'm sure it will take many more millennia with Elrond and us for her to completely heal."
He nodded and finished pulling his boots on, adding his sword, but forgoing armor.
"I was about to send Glorfindel to find you," Círdan cheerfully called out when they entered his tent.
The only one missing was Bain. Bard and Thráin were seated with the rest at the long table. Also with them were Thorin, Balin, Dáin Ironfoot and Bilbo.
"While we were waiting, I sent for the dwarven lords to reinstate our friendship." Gandalf clarified their presence.
"We had a very long wait," Elrond teased. "What were you two doing?"
"Knitting me a new pair of socks," Celeborn snarked, drawing more chuckles from all at the table.
"Let's begin," Círdan ordered and Taíban and Demythel played servants, serving refreshments and beverages as the story unfolded in diminutive detail. Then came Galadriel's turn.
"I was pulled from my body and saw everyone in the tent from above. I didn't linger, but was drawn upwards until flying among the clouds. I sailed over the Misty Mountains in minutes. I saw our daeriôns showing Legolas the High Fells of Rhudaur."
"I forbade them from ever going there," Elrond added with disgust.
"In no time I was over the Havens and then speed picked up and I entered night over the waters until the lights of Tol Eressëa came into view. I slowed down and floated over the bay and up the Tirion River until over Adar's palace. There I stopped." She saw nobody was daring to breath for fear of missing a word. "I descended until in Adar's family chamber, where our family was gathered." She looked at Elrond. "Celebrían was sitting beside my brother, Aegnor."
The elves rejoiced and explained who Aegnor was and that he died during the First Age.
"Celebrían was telling the story of our return trip from the Havens when Thranduil was married and the mischief our daeriôns got into."
That brought smiles from all the elves and Thráin, for he remembered reading that story and vowed to again when time permitted.
"It was then a commotion was heard in the hallway and Lord Mandos entered, with what seemed like half the lords in the city trailing. All were wondering who in the king's family was to be sacrificed to the Halls and most fearing it was the king that was to be summonsed, for why would Mandos make a trip to Tirion himself?"
She looked at Thranduil. "I have good news. Among those that dared enter the king's private chamber was Ríllas."
Thranduil's eyes went wide. In a soft tone, he asked, "How is she?"
"Ríllas looked as Celebrían."
"Now I am ready to sail," Thranduil stated.
"Your tasks are not complete in Middle Earth." Galadriel vetoed his desire.
"Thank you," he replied and wiped his eyes and scowled at his weakness.
"Aegnor thought Mandos was coming for him until Mandos stated I was in the room and manifested my soul so my family and friends could see me. After a short dialogue with Celebrían, I was pulled from the room and moved in a split second back into my body. That's all I know."
Celeborn hadn't relinquished her hand and spoke rarely in meetings, but added, "Your return saved the dwarves from being slaughtered."
"I need to return home," she replied to him alone. "We will have but few precious years before the next major war and end of the age."
"Will I be able to sail then?" Thranduil asked.
Galadriel drew her gaze from her husband to him. "Yes."
The following morning, after lengthy farewells and the lords watching Bard squeeze the life out of his two oldest before allowing them to mount horses, the dwarves moved back inside the mountain and to the rampart to see the massive elven armies take leave and ride in a large group west of Dale and to Mirkwood. When the last elf was no longer visible, Thráin stated, "I doubt I'll ever see anyone outside Thranduil again in my lifetime." He shook off his melancholy and turned on Thorin and Dwalin. "Your reprieve from ah honeymoon is over. Off with both of ye, back ta yer interrupted honeymoon."
Thorin smiled at his father. "Is that a demand from the king or request from a father yearning for granddwarflings?"
"Both," Thráin ordered, but smiled at them.
Amongst laughter, Thorin and Dwalin escorted their brides below.
Thráin sobered and turned to Dáin. "Did ye get all the dams?"
"Aye. They are safely in the dungeon."
"I'm surprised Gandalf didn't stay ta hear their stories," the king commented.
"When we were saying our farewells to the elves, I overheard Elrond and Gandalf talking," Balin interjected. When all eyes turned to him, he continued. "Gandalf promised to get Bilbo home in time for harvest and they are packing as I speak."
The lords moved down the steps where Gandalf, Radagast and Bilbo emerged from another hall.
"I've summonsed eagles," Gandalf stated. "Since everyone is leaving, it is a good time to return the Lonely Mountain to the dwarves."
"When will your travels bring ye this way again?" Thráin asked.
Gandalf looked kindly down upon the king. "Since your return, and my own guilt at having failed you, I will be a pest until you ask me to leave. I will spend as much time as I can with you."
"That's all I ask," Thráin replied. More farewells and gratitude to the wizards and Bilbo and again they mounted the steps and watched the eagles take their friends to the west. When the birds became spots, Thráin hand signed that he wanted Dáin and Balin to join him. They went to the king's office where Picket departed shutting the door behind him.
Settling behind his desk, Thráin pulled a sheaf of blank paper to him and dipped a quill into the ink well. "Now that we are alone an Gandalf an Radagast's assurance that the mountain is free from evil, we need ta organize the running of Erebor."
They spent the rest of the day planning for the future of the kingdom.
Deep in the mountain, Thorin relaxed on plush cushions spread before a low table. On the table made of polished gold, the book lay open and he laughed at one entry. Reclining against his side, Lióni's cheeks flushed, but she also laughed.
"How mortifying having to call healers because of a sprained back," she said. "I don't want to have to include something like that in this book for us."
Thorin ran his short beard against her cheek and rumbled in her ear, "What will we add? I don't want our entry to be so boring as to put future generations asleep."
"I think you should write of your long wait," Lióni suggested. "So many of your antecedents married so young they didn't have any life experience before the marriage bed and hardly any at their tender age of first experiences of passion."
"I think Father and Mother's part was perfect," he mused aloud.
"Yes," she agreed. "Your mother's description of seeing your father's scars for the first time and insisting he tell her of each weapon that marred his skin and how she kissed them all and rubbed oil into his body beautiful." She had a thought. "I'm writing about Smaug on your shoulder. It is hideous, but such a part of your life."
"And I'm writing about that mole on your inner thigh," he laughingly replied.
"You better not," she threatened and pulled on his stubble.
"I don't know. Prince Durin III's description of his wife's breasts gives me inspiration."
"Or Prince Glóin's wife describing him as hung like a donkey," she giggled.
"You could say I am bigger and longer," Thorin boasted.
"But I don't know if you are," Lióni joked back.
Thorin picked up a sharpened pen and dipped it into ink. Lióni let her gaze return to the tattoo of Smaug on his back as he leaned forward to write. She reached out and ran a hand over the dragon as if petting it. "Our dwarflings will want to see your tattoos often."
He grunted a reply and she let him write in silence.
He finally put the pen down and sat back.
Lióni leaned over his shoulder, pressing her bare breasts to his naked back and read aloud. "Prince Thorin II, son of King Thráin II. I am over a hundred and fifty years and taking a wife. My youth was stripped by the dragon Smaug and I toiled in the towns of men for decades; mostly as prince, but for fifty years a king. When King Thráin was returned to us from being held prisoner at Dol Guldur for fifty years, I was ordered to take a bride and produce an heir. I chose lass Lióni of Jötunheim, one of way too many choices that no dwarf should ever be subjected. She is slender, as my mother, and sports light brown hair and blue eyes. She is a few years past the time a lass is usually wed and has an independent spirit and fiery nature. I expected at my age to fulfill the rites of the marriage bed and find solace at night in a cold bed alone due to not wishing a hag in my bed. My choice will insure my bed is never lonely or cold. Mahal chose well for me."
"No intimate details." Thorin smirked over his shoulder.
"You still haven't thawed all the way," she observed. "Your entry lacks passion and reads like a doomsday entry."
He glanced down at his script. "I will like my father wrote, keep the passion in the bed where it belongs." He handed her the pen.
Lióni dipped the pen and started. Thorin read over her shoulder as she added her entry. I Lióni, daughter of Lord Dóvad of Jötunheim first set eyes on the mostly naked body of Thorin when he sparred with Lord Dwalin in the pools deep in the mountain of Jötunheim. My eyes were taken with the multi-colored tattoo of a dragon across his right shoulder and tail that wrapped around his right bicep. I had no desire to be wedded and bedded by the lordlings presented to me, but when I saw Thorin, I knew my heart had chosen and no other would take it from him. I longed to run my hands over the dragon and other parts of his body. Suddenly a voice spoke in my ear. "Choose the one ye want an I'll work on them about yer charms." My father caught me in the forbidden all male area. When Thorin and I joined in marriage, my dreams of stroking the dragon came true and the smooth, hot skin over hardened muscles make my insides yearn for him to fill me whenever his hands stroke me.
Thorin kissed her shoulder when she put the pen in its holder. "I'm hungry."
She turned and pushed him onto his back on the pillows. "The dinner bell hasn't rang and I am hungry also….for you." She settled over him and he guided her onto his manhood.