Comes Around Again (Gigolas & Bagginshield)

The Aftermath of Fire

It was a long, cold swim to shore, cold enough that even Legolas felt stiff by the time he climbed out of the surf. He turned to help Bard ashore, but the man was still burning hot with all that had passed, and he moved with surprising ease.

Far along down the beach, Legolas could see small fires burning in the sand, the desperate play for warmth that might last them through the rest of the night. To his eyes, the sky was beginning to lighten in the East, but it would be hours yet before the Men would see the grey light of dawn.

Between the fires and where they had washed ashore was the sodden detritus that was the last remnants of Laketown. Charred wood shone with moisture in the starlight, bright between the dull forms that, Legolas was sure, were those poor souls that had not made it to shore.

Legolas bowed his head. "Amarth faeg," he said softly, and his heart went out to their kin.

Voices were calling from the fire, calling for those who had yet to be accounted for. Legolas knew some of them would never be found, but he heard Bard's name among the rest, and turned to face the man.

Bard had turned back, and was watching the spot where Laketown had stood.

"Come," Legolas said, touching his arm gently. "Your children call for you."

Bard he turned and looked at Legolas. His eyes were heavily shadowed in the night, but Legolas did not need to see them to see the pain that lived there. Then, Bard breathed deeply and let it out slowly, closing his eyes for a long moment. The breath re-settled his shoulders, and when he opened his eyes once more, the grief had given way to resolve.

Kíli saw them first; his archer-trained eyes and dwarven dark-vision giving him the advantage. "Here!" he called, waving his arm. "We're over here! Legolas! Bard!"

"Daddy!" Tilda squealed, and jumped up to run to him. Bain and Sigrid followed, and Bard pulled his children tightly to him. For a long moment, he simply held them before allowing Sigrid to tug him closer to the fire.

They were not the only ones to notice him, however, and the murmurs that Bard, "Bard the Dragonslayer," was alive and well, began almost immediately.

Tauriel was at Legolas's side with her flask of miruvor, and he drank from it gratefully. The wet chill that had lingered around his edges finally faded at last. He licked his lips as he recapped the vial. "How do you fare?"

Tauriel shrugged, taking the vial when he offered it back. "We all of us escaped unharmed, though it was a near thing. The Master's barge nearly capsized us."

Legolas looked around the hastily made camp. "And where is the Master of Laketown?" he asked, knowing his tone made his derision clear.

Tauriel raised an eyebrow as she looked at him. "If his boat made it ashore, it was not here," she said.

"Good," Legolas said. The people of Laketown would need a real leader, one who could lead in peacetime and in war. He looked at her from the corner of his eye. "And how is your Kíli?"

"He is well," Tauriel said, and then flushed brightly when she realized the whole of his question. "And he is hardly mine!"

Legolas raised his eyebrows, lips pressed into a line to hide his smile. "Oh, I'm sure he would disagree with that," he said, and then, switching back to Westron. "And how fair you, Cousin Fíli?"

"Well enough. Though just because we can endure the cold, doesn't mean we like it much. Oil's skill with a flint has been much appreciated." Fíli answered from where he had approached behind Tauriel. Tauriel didn't jump, but she did close her eyes for a long moment. Legolas grinned at her. She had it bad, to be so distracted.