Lessons In Love

A Hundred Years I Could Give To You

"I will tell you when the time is right," Thranduil replied in conciliatory tone.

"The time is right now!"

"There is no need to yell."

"Just tell me what is up with that pendant."

Thranduil sighed. He did not know what to say, yet he knew what he could not say. The Elvenking knew what he had been told about the pendant, but as he did not fully trust in the story, he was not ready to share it with Bard. It was not in the nature of the Elves to be hasty. Some of them were a little hot-headed from time to time, but they were not impatient.

"I am sorry, I cannot. All I can do is ask you to have fate in me and do as I requested."

If Thranduil was a human, he would have probably said 'if you love me you ---', but he did not believe in blackmail. Especially not in love. Love was a free emotion, it sprang from free will and flourished in open hearts. Blackmailing would destroy it just like cold killed the leaves in the trees. There was no room and no need for it in true love. Thranduil gave Bard the freedom to decide for himself. He trusted their love to guide his heart.

Bard made a deep sigh. He was sure he would not get used to the Elven habits of his sweetheart during his relatively short lifetime. That, too, hurt him. He would never understand the heart that loved him. Sometimes Bard was not sure if the Elves understood in their complex ways themselves.

* * * * *

Nothing in the living world can come between two people bound together by true love. This was proved once again when the Elvenking Thranduil was married to Bard, the King of Dale, in a ceremony that was a perfect mixture of the Elven wedding tradition as well as the traditions of the Men of Dale. The wedding ceremony took place in the city of Dale, but the celebrations lasted for two days; first the party was set in Dale and on the following day in the Woodland Realm.

During the celebration Thranduil was wearing a combination of deep ice blue, off-white and silver. Bard was dressed in royal blue and dark grey. His outfit included a hint of silver, too, in the form of the pendant Thranduil had given him that one day by the flowing river in Mirkwood.

Bard had given the responsibility of most of the planning and preparations of the wedding to Thranduil. He had been sure that the less he meddled in it, the smoother everything would go. The reasoning of the Dragonslayer had been spot on since the only thing they argued about was if Bard's hair would be braided or not. Bard got his way after agreeing to allow Thranduil braid his hair on another time.

It was Thranduil who woke up first in the morning that followed the second day of the celebration. He was resting his head calmly against the chest of his newly wedded husband. So was the silver pendant. The Elf touched it so softly the skin on his fingers barely touched the surface of the piece of jewellery.

Bard had eventually decided to trust Thranduil and agree to his request. The Elvenking was still not sure if it was of any use. Only time would tell. It could choose to strip Bard off of his life one day at a time or grant a forever for them to share. Inherently cautious, Thranduil was sure to remind himself strongly of the sadder option. He had seen so much death and destruction he knew to expect it. To lose someone he loved was the worst thing and in this world he had only two left; his husband Bard and his son Legolas. Thranduil had survived his heart breaking before, but the death of either of the two would lead him to his end. It would be over for the Great Elvenking.

Bard stirred a little, the muscles on his chest tensing shortly. Thranduil had requested him to remove the hair growing on his chest, but Bard had ignored it. Apparently a king of Men needed to have a hairy chest - or so Thranduil had reasoned it.

No matter what would cross their path now, they were married. They were married in the sense the Elves found marriage and they were married in the way the Men considered marriage. They had made their love official, known to all in Middle-Earth. It would live on in tales and legends even if they were lost from the world. On that thought Thranduil held. It comforted him and shielded him from the insecurity and doubt he was feeling.

The Dragonslayer sighed softly as he woke up. He laid his left hand onto the back of Thranduil's head and caressed the Elf's hair gently. Bard loved to hold Thranduil. He did not admit it to many, but since the first days of the relationship the need seemed to have only grown stronger.

They had only limited time together and Bard wanted to learn to know Thranduil as thoroughly as he could. He wanted to remember how the Elf's hair felt in his fingers, he wanted to remember Thranduil's scent, the warmth of his breath, the taste of his lips. Bard wanted to remember the soft curve on the tip of Thranduil's ear, he wanted to memorize the depth of his neck dimple. If he could choose, he wanted Thranduil's face to be the last thing he would see before he submitted himself to death.

"Is it morning already?" Bard grunted. Thranduil chuckled softly.

"I believe the sun is up again. Perhaps the sleep was short for us, but the night is behind," the Elvenking replied. Bard kept on caressing his hair.

"I want to stay here for the rest of my life," the Man said. Thranduil raised himself up a little, resting on his arm. He looked at Bard.

"Are you sure? Do you not think it might turn boring perhaps?"

"Well, my dear Elvenking," Bard started. He lifted his upper body a little, too. "I have ideas to avoid boredom with."

"Such as?" Thranduil asked.

Bard pushed the Elf onto his back on the bed and got on top of him.

"Oh," Thranduil sounded.

"Oh indeed," Bard agreed. He smiled and leaned down into a kiss. His hand was running down on Thranduil's side. The Elf answered the kiss and allowed his emotions to take over.

On that morning after the celebration the two kings crowned their marriage once again. Their happiness was so close to perfection any happiness can. They trusted their love and together they were ready to face everything the future held for them.

The fear of death had been washed away by love.