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mlmxreader · 17 days

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A Beast Of A Man | Bard the Bowman x m!reader

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↳ ❝ Can I request smth fluffy with werewolf male reader x bard (from the hobbit)?

With prompt “Gentlemen like me have to be very careful of what we do and say” ❞

: ̗̀➛ Bard's husband is by no means an ordinary Man, but Bard loves him too much to care anyway.

: ̗̀➛ brief mentions of violence

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Bard knew where he was going as he travelled down the long, winding path; the slick mud and soaked clay clinging to his boots and making him slip and slide every now and then the further he went.

Following large, stretched paw prints that seemed to have been made by an expert; much larger than a wolf, and far bigger than any warg either.

Unlike the infamous gaurhoth, though, this was a beast turned from Man by infection. A beast that could not speak wolf language, and nor was it constant in its animalistic body. No, this beast stood on two legs like an ordinary Man, yet much taller; it had a long muzzle, adorned with great sharp teeth and shaggy, dark grey fur.

At the end of its long, muscular arms, sat giant paws with thick, sharpened claws. It was as if a wolf had been made to walk on two legs, but with the great strength of the best of Dwarves.

But upon reaching the clearing, and seeing none other than a Man lying down at the end of the pawprinted tracks, Bard smiled; he cleared his throat as he came to sit down beside you, playing his bag beside your bare chest.

He reached out, gently tapping your arm and letting out a sigh of relief when you grumbled and began to stir.

"The children were asking for you," he started, "they asked why you missed out on my birthday party yesterday."

You let out a long, guilt ridden sigh. "Was that yesterday?"

"It was," Bard nodded. "I told them that you were called away, and that you would be back by this evening... they missed having their other father around."

You frowned, chest stinging as you realised the mistake that you had made. "Bard, I-"

"Don't apologise," he told you quietly. "I know how difficult it is to control it... that... infection. I don't blame you."

"No, I know, but..." you slowly sat up, shaking your head. "I promised that I would be there for Bain, Sigrid and Tilda - what will they think of me now?"

"No less of you," he insisted. "You treat them like they're your own, and they know that. It was one birthday, I don't think any less of you."

You glared at him for a moment, shaking your head. "You should. I missed your birthday, I let the children down, I... I fail at everything. Fatherhood, being a husband... a Man."

Bard put his arm around you, shaking his head as he gently kissed your temple. "I don't think you have, at all. You've been a wonderful father, and a wonderful husband. Your affliction doesn't matter."

You leaned into him, humming as you put your arm around his lower back and smiled. "You mean that?"

"Of course," he said softly, kindly. "I brought you some clothes, in that bag. It's my shirt, but I remember Gandalf telling me that men with your infection can be calmed down a little with familiar scents."

"Thank you," you chuckled softly. "But if you want me to wear your shirts, you can just say."

Bard shrugged as he hummed softly, licking his lips. "Well, I've never been the best at lying - you know that."

"And gentlemen like me have to be very careful of what we say and do."

You pulled away from him, aware of his gaze fixated on your body as you pulled the trousers from his bag; quickly tugging them on before sighing heavily. The cloth was warm against your skin, and although you did appreciate his efforts more than anything else, you also couldn't deny that you also appreciated his gaze.

He looked at you like you were fantastic, like you had the combined glory and breathtaking scenes of a woodland in fresh spring rain; like you held the entirety of Middle Earth on your shoulders, willing to kneel and give it to him. He looked at you as if you were his soil, his sky, his water, and his air.

He looked at you like you were everything, and even when you settled yourself on his lap once you were dressed, he didn't look at you any differently.

Slowly, Bard laid his hands on the backs of your thighs, keeping you close as he tilted his head to the side. "Is it at least getting better?"

You nodded, putting your hands on his shoulders as you let out a long sigh. "A little bit. It's been easier to control since Gandalf took me to see Radagast."

"I'm glad," Bard said softly, nodding as he dared to smile. "And the... urges?"

"Not as often, or as powerful," you smiled back, patting his shoulder twice to let him know that you really were quite alright. "Honest, Bard. Thanks to you, I'm all alright - more or less tip top condition. Promise."

Bard held his hand out, waiting for you to link your fingers with his. "Two squeezes?"

You squeezed his hand twice. "Two squeezes."

His shoulders slumped as he let out a drawn out breath, swallowing thickly and daring to smile. "You picked the right place, mind you."

"Pardon?"

"This," he mused. "Isn't it where we first met?"

"You mean where I first saved you?" You asked with a scoff, and when he glared playfully, you shook your head. "Don't be shy, Bard. You can admit you were all but overwhelmed by that warg."

"But I had you to save me," he whispered.

"You always will," you whispered. "I might not be as strong or as fierce as a dragon, but I will always, always protect you and the children. You're..."

"Family?" He asked quietly.

You nodded slowly. "You're my family... and, if you looked under your pillow this morning, you'd find what I made for you."

He tilted his head, curious as he hummed and raised his brows slightly. "Then we best get going and get back home, don't you think?"

You hummed, shaking your head for a moment before pressing your face against his throat. "Now in a minute, eh?"

Slowly, Bard closed his eyes as he fought back the urge to grin. "Alright."

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mithrilandvilya · 5 months

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The Loneliness of Kings

I decided to write this for @chicotfp as a small thank you for all your beautiful art creations. I hope many will enjoy this short tale.

Trade with Lake Town, or whatever other unimaginative name it went by now, was important for the Woodland Elves. The forest had limited material resources, and if he wanted better armor for his fighters, it was not to be found in the trees, but deep in the mountains. His people had long had minimal interactions with the dwarves, distrust built between them over generations of unresolved grievances. Dwarves held long grudges, and elves had long memories. But the Lake Town men eagerly remained the neutral trade intermediaries for metal from the mountains as well as what they could grow and hunt at the lake shores that didn’t thrive in the forest, in exchange for wood, wine, and intricate, high-quality crafts and wares fashioned through centuries of skilled practice that the artisan villagers couldn’t hope to approach in their short lifespans.

However, the king’s thoughts of Lake Town were bitter. He had nothing against the pitifully short-lived men there, but the lake itself was to him blacker than the Dead Marshes. When he closed his eyes, the grayed, gangrenous corpse of his father with blood-stained, angry pupils stared up at him from beneath liver-colored wind-swept waters, bony fingers pointing to him accusingly from the marshy waters, his father’s whispered voice, full of disgust and disappointment, chastising him for failing to bring him home. But from the Lake, nothing. It was dark, deep and silent. And the unbearable weight of that silence said more to him than all the cruel whispers of his father’s ghost ever did.

He had risked his diminished people two years hence in a secretly desperate measure to do some small thing toward relieving himself and all in his realm from the lingering evil that engulfed the lake as a suffocating mist, just as it spread through the edges of the forest and utterly overpowered the southlands. It was growing. The people of Lake Town and even the nearby dwarves held no memory or record of the dark events of the earliest days of his reign upon return from the south with so many fewer than had set out. No relief met them at home, and rather than recovery and rebuilding, his earliest rule at home was instead marked by more defeat, more loss, and more tragedy. He immediately lost all aspiration of ever living up to his father’s legacy or of setting any bold future for his son. The body of Legolas’s mother lay as irretrievable as Oropher’s, on hard, cold lifeless bedrock, crushed under the weight of nearly a kilometer of black water at the lake’s deepest part, her mortal wounds unseen and untended. Never did he see her in any vision or dream, and to his heart it was the harshest judgment of his rule that she made herself lost to him forever. If she would haunt him like his father, he would fall to his knees in gratitude, but the lake remained dark, deep and silent.

So he endured. And his kingdom endured. It was all he could do.

---

Bard had, he thought, found an ally and friend in the king in the course of the Battle of the Five Armies. He was thrust into a position of responsibility he had never desired or imagined in its outcome, and had naively expected guidance from his far more experienced and seasoned elven counterpart.

Each day when he awoke, the faces of Bard’s children looked at him expectantly for instructions for the day, but he did not want to instruct anyone. He didn’t want to give orders, listen to annoying officials, or make another decision with consequences he could only vainly hope to foresee. He did his best to serve his people well regardless of his insecurity and self-doubt, but the way his children looked at him, as if they believed he knew what he was doing, kept him awake at night more than anything else.

He remembered their mother looking at him the same way each day he came home to her with some new remedy for her illness, gathered with little optimism from a different witchy old woman in the market. She expected every remedy to be the last, but for a different reason than he. She was cheerful and grateful to the end, and sang soft, sweet lullabies to the youngest even on her last night. At every dawn she would comment about feeling a little better in the fresh light and she would list off chores she planned to accomplish that day with her newly returned vigor, but he knew they would remain undone. He knew she was dying and felt the sting of failure and hopelessness, unable to hide his despair even to spare her or his children from his dark mood, contrary to the jovial spirit he was usually known for. As she finally, after months of wasting, drew her last breath, a grimace of surprise at death’s arrival froze upon her face. He was haunted by her unwarranted faith in him and the dawning realization of its betrayal as her final expression was seared into his memory.

His letters to Thranduil for advice piled upon his cluttered and dusty desk, unsent. He had sent only one, the invitation to his ceremony which was replied to quickly by staff with nothing more than a yes, the King would attend. There had been no other communication or visit between them since the King’s departure at battle end. Aid had come from the elves in generous measure, but it still took two years to rebuild to a semblance of normalcy.

The thusly long-delayed autumn ceremony was held on the great dock over the blackest side of the lake, where the waters quickly plunged to unmeasured depths, the cedar posts decorated with purple asters, yellow ribbons, and shiny copper pennies hung from strings gently bowing between them. The elf-king had stood erectly, two heads taller than all the residents of the town, on the shore by the dock, arms held down in front of him, right hand over left. He was dressed in beautifully woven shimmery green and red robes, yet peculiarly in his battle crown rather than the expected autumn Rosehip and Aster. He stared into the distance with a hard-set jaw and hardly paid attention to the proceedings. He had congratulated Bard with a warm handshake at the event’s conclusion, but his smile had been weak and he and his party were nowhere to be found when the later noise of festive fiddle, drink, and dance by firelight carried to all shores of the lake in the unseasonably warm and starry night.

At first opportunity to make excuse, Bard sought out the companionship of the last chirping crickets of fall while morose thoughts of the king grabbed his mind and wouldn’t let go. He analyzed and counter-analyzed every memory he had of Thranduil. Where had he misjudged? Was he reading too much into nothing, his own insecurities tainting his vision? Surely he was. He imagined Thranduil stepping out of the darkness in front of him, shining eyes and mirthful expression with a quick, clever joke about Bard’s foolishness. But then he felt ice-cold as he recalled the king’s distant expression at the ceremony. The image of the regal elf’s face gazing over the water and his wife’s dead stare were all too similar , and they confirmed his self-reckoning as a great imposter, unfit to rule.

His lifespan and its mark in the depths of time, no matter what he did or did not accomplish as leader or father or husband, could amount to nothing but a drop in the oceans of memory of the eons-aged Thranduil. Bard and his imposterous legacy would be gone before an elf-king could hardly even notice. It would be a waste of time for Thranduil to bother at all with Bard. Indeed, how silly he had been to send that invitation.

He felt his cheeks redden with shame now at wanting more from him. He was selfish in his desire for friendship and guidance from the ever-graceful king. In truth, he was deeply lonely without his wife and greatly felt the burden of now finding himself in a position where everyone looked to him. Who could he himself look to? In his fanciful daydreams, he had looked to Thranduil and felt himself secure in his embrace. It gave him comfort and hope, but if such fantasies had any reality, had he not considered what it would be like for his Comforter? He knew but rumors of the great losses in the long life of Thranduil Oropherion, but he had seen enough in his eyes to know there was some truth in those rumors. How could there not be for anyone so long-lived? How could any ellon or elleth’s life be anything but a long string of grief after grief, especially if they entangled their hearts in kinship with short-lived humanity? Bard well knew the tortures of memory from just decades of existence, but the thought of the weight of eons of memory nearly broke him then and there, and he buried his face in his hands and sobbed.

---

It was almost unbearable to stand on the shore over her resting place. Indeed, when he received the invitation, he had no hesitation in accepting it, but he resolved to wear his battle crown to give him strength to bear it. Today he battled memory. A cool breeze wafted off the lake, competing with an unseasonably warm afternoon haze. In his peripheral vision, a small cabbage white butterfly flopped around between purple asters that were hung along the dock while Bard officially rose to the station he deserved.

Without turning his head, he turned his eyes to the butterfly only for it to vanish. Unbidden, a memory of his beloved, smiling broadly and laughing as a white butterfly landed on the aster crown upon her head took over his consciousness. He could sense every aspect of that moment – the fluttering of dusty white wings, the sparkling low-angled sunlight illuminating her smile and making her hair shine like starlight, the lilting musicality of her laughter over the sound of leaves being gently rustled by the breeze. It was a hallucination as vivid as reality, but as soon as he tried to grasp it for even more detail, it, like the butterfly, vanished suddenly, replaced by cold black waters. He steeled his jaw and told himself to “Endure, Thranduil, as you must.”

He willed his mind to turn to Bard. He was most pleased to see him rising in position. He was a man of good quality, and this bode well for the future in this part of the world, if little else did. He greatly enjoyed Bard’s down-to-earth forthrightness and light-hearted humor. He was saddened to think of him growing old before his eyes, but in the short time he had interacted with Bard, the man had a way of keeping him in the present, living in the moment. Staying in the present was something Thranduil needed. No matter how much time he had to live, spending it all in memory was spending it all unwholly alive. Memory was a half-death. Despite his age, he wanted to live.

Bard’s chestnut eyes and stride were full of youth even though his dark hair was frosted at its edges with a touch of gray, and the quick recalling of his smile and laugh made Thranduil wistful. His reverie was stalled when he saw it was time to offer his congratulations and he did so sincerely, but his heart continued to tug him back and forth between now and Then , so he set off on his own down the shoreline, lost in his thoughts.

The butterfly came back to his mind. Butterflies were a symbol of hope, and his wife’s name had meant hope. Was she speaking to him at long last? He barely dared to entertain the idea. He reasoned that convincing himself so was merely his own will fabricating a construct to justify what he wanted but did not deserve. The Silvan elves, he knew, deeply revered and trusted their King, but he knew better his own unworthiness, reminded constantly by the haunting and the lack of haunting of Oropher and Hope. He had let them down, and he had merely wrought survival and endurance, but not thriving, for the people who counted on him. He tried to make long life merry for his people, making great efforts in the seasonal festivals for their enjoyment, but it was all thinly veiling the darkness barely kept at bay.

His people deserved more, but without Hope, he could barely imagine there being better days in their future. Thranduil was amazed at the general optimism of men, who died barely beyond birth. Perhaps their brevity allowed it, being unburdened with the full knowledge of the endless onslaught of evil . Indeed, Bard epitomized the hope in men. He was born to no station, beaten down by poverty, corruption and plague, yet shot straight the arrow to a seemingly impossible victory, the full impact of which would unfold fully over decades to come. Thranduil desired to ride that arrow, to soar and strike the heart of darkness.

The sky had long since changed from light blue to brilliant copper and deep purple, now to a sea of ink teeming with brilliant pinpoints of varying size and hue arrayed in artful asterisms. He beheld the butterfly constellation, with a large white star at its head, slowly rising in the East. Yes, it did so every fall, but tonight he decided to heed its rising as a call to action. He turned back along the rocky shore he had traveled down for miles, a decision made, a soft smile on his lips.

---

“My friend, tonight is a night for celebration, not tears. Let us enjoy the present. Set aside your grief of the past and your worries of the future. I will help you.”

The sonorous voice rose from the darkness right in front of Bard and he raised his head to find Thranduil’s hand outstretched before him. Bard gingerly put his hand in his, and felt himself instantly being lifted both in spirit and body into the arms of the Elven King. He took a deep breath, inhaling the wintergreen scent of the King’s cloak. His weight was born by Thranduil for a moment as he gained his footing, and in that moment the Kng carried him, he felt relieved and refreshed, as if he had slept well after many long sleepless nights. His tears formerly of despair transformed their chemistry to those of unexpected joy.

“I have longed for you,” he dared to whisper into his friend’s ear, with a tinge of fear in his voice. Thranduil’s action was small, a gentle word and an outreached hand, but it had changed everything. His fear was in making too much of the action, but surely it was a gift of elven magic that had so instantly transformed his mood. A soft chuckle rose in the King’s throat, and Bard’s fear was quelled.

“You are forthright and brave to bare your heart to me. So I will bare mine to you to tell you that I seek you as a salve for the loneliness of kings. In so doing, perhaps I can spare you some of that loneliness as well. So, come with me, and let us enjoy the present together.”

The pair walked away from the shore together, into a finger of the forest that concealed them from view of any passersby, and soon joined together in a bed of moss on the forest floor. When lightness split the eastern horizon, they emerged as the pair that went in, together.

---

Over the years, many people remarked about the strength of the bond between the King of the Woodland Realm and Bard of Lake Town, and happily recounted how the deepened alliance had improved the futures of both realms for centuries. The story of their bond became an oft-related tale crafted to say that true companionship had the power to change the fates of many.

Thranduil had just heard report of one of the latest versions of this tale as part of a recounting of the news gathered on the latest rounds. As he changed into evening robes, the Butterfly 's bright head and fluttering body rising in the eastern night sky filled his view. Bard had been gone for generations now, but he counted the wisdom of the tales as true, for many fates had changed, including his. He cherished the memory of Bard, his companion against the loneliness of kings.

#thranduil #elvenking #thranduil fanfic #bard the bowman #barduil

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wild-lavender-rose · 1 year

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The Hobbit Masterlist

- One-shots -

Thorin Oakenshield

My King

Crown

My Love For You

The King and The Ceramicist

Your Child

Dance With Me

Secret Tattoo

Durin’s Day

I’m So Sorry

Read to Me

Time to Breathe

Kili

Heirloom

Fires of Foolishness

Freedom

Thranduil

First Kiss

Stairs

Legolas

Midnight Kiss

A Moonlit Dance

Bilbo Baggins

A Birthday Wish

- Hurt/Comfort -

Legolas

Saving the Enemy

Saving the Enemy (part 2)

Saving the Enemy (part 3)

Saving the Enemy (part 4)

Saving the Enemy (part 5)

Saving the Enemy (part 6)

Kili

Holding You

Snowkissed

Fili

Later

Survivors

All is Well

Thorin Oakenshield

The Miner’s Granddaughter

Saving his Enemy

Saving his Enemy (part 2)

Thranduil

A True Lady

- Would Include... -

Kili

The Morning Before You and Kili’s Wedding Would Include...

- Preferences-

Study Fatigue

Pets

Unusual Punishment

- Misquotes -

Thorin Oakenshield

#1- Wandering

#2- Hairstyle

#3- Courting

#4- Nine Ravens

Kili

#1- We Have a Wizard

#2- Napkins

Fili

#1- Kitten

Kili x reader x Fili

#1- When Do We Leave?

- Drabbles -

Thorin Oakenshield

#1- Sleep

#2- You Winced

Bard

#1- Care for You

#2- No Shame

Fanfic Masterlist

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nocompromise-noregrets · 25 days

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Bard the Bowman/Thranduil Characters: Bard the Bowman, Thranduil (Tolkien), Hilda Bianca Additional Tags: First Meetings, (sort of), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Alternate Universe - Heavy Metal Series: Part 1 of Barduil Month 2024 Summary:

Loading in for an all-dayer, Bard spots Menegroth's new singer and is thoroughly distracted. Little does he know that his distraction is very much reciprocated...

This is an entirely insufficient birthday fic for the incomparable @scary-grace - the muses did not quite cooperate enough to get the two of them actually exchanging words (or anything else XD ) but I am hopeful for a little bit more later on this week! Hope you're having a fantastic day! <333333

This is also the first of my contributions for Barduil Month 2024 over at @bi-widower-dads (come and join us!) - this week's theme is 'first meetings'. Annnnddddd it's the first, chronologically speaking, in the series I still haven't actually collected into a series, which I began last Barduil Month with Yesterday, A Hundred Years Ago...Bard and Thranduil are both in their twenties here, and it takes place in the early 1990s.

It is also, would you believe it, the HUNDREDTH fic I have written featuring these two as a pairing! *streamers*

#lotr #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit fanfic #bard the bowman #thranduil #barduil #bard/thranduil #modern au #barduilmonth2024

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blueberryrock · 5 months

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Summary: Bard Bowman is thirty-seven years old, widowed and heckled, and he's had enough. If his children want a cruise trip with their lottery money, then so they will have. Bard will only have to work twice as hard to take them out of their little corner of the world —— It has been three years. Three years of him raging, and sobbing, and grieving. Three years in which he has turned away from his children. Three years to reach this ship, to put together whatever snapped that day. And the first morning, Thranduil wakes up late. It is going fabulously. — Or, in which the two meet on a ship, and there are ups and downs.

Word count: 29.7k

Chapters: 11/11 on going series

A/N: me and my partner @blackknight-100 are so excited to present our THAUC 2023 project for @fellowshipofthefics event!! And this is only part 1 of probably 2 so definitely look out for that!! We hope you enjoy this as much as we did writing!!

Ao3 Link

#the hobbit #bard #bard the bowman #barduil #bard x thranduil #king thranduil #thranduil oropherion #thranduil #thranduil x bard #ao3 fanfic #thauc23 #fotfics

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scary-grace · 2 months

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Chapters: 7/? Fandom: The Hobbit - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Bard the Bowman/Thranduil Characters: Bard the Bowman, Thranduil (Tolkien), Sigrid (Hobbit Movies), Bain of Dale, Tilda (Hobbit Movies), Legolas Greenleaf Additional Tags: Mothman is Real, Mothman Thranduil, Mothbaby Legolas, Park Ranger Bard, Strange Things Are Afoot at Olympic National Park, Twilight References, we're not sorry, Charlie the Dog - Freeform, Non-Graphic Violence, But There Is Still Gore So You've Been Warned, Barduil Month 2023, POV Bard the Bowman Summary:

(in chaos theory) the phenomenon whereby a mothman moving into your place of employment can have a large effect on the rest of your life.

Chapter 7 is here! Bard gets some answers, finally...although he’s not sure if he wants them.

#barduil #bard the bowman #thranduil #bard x thranduil #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfic

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itsonlydana · 18 days

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A bit late but here is my first entry for @bi-widower-dads Barduil Month 2024 under the prompt "First Meetings" for week 1! 💌

Hope you enjoy it:

"Who Are These Children in My Kitchen?"

Summary:

It started with Bain, and now there were three kids in Thranduil's kitchen, expecting him to cook for them, and somehow, Legolas forgot to mention it.

or:

Bard is sick and after caring for his children, Thranduil pays the man a visit. Only to bring him some soup, definitely not to check the single father out.

hot men deserve hot boyfriends

#barduil #barduil month 2024 #bard the bowman #bard x thranduil #thranduil fanfiction #safe link!!!#ao3 fanfic

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chicotfp · 1 year

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Bard the Bowman/Thranduil Characters: Thranduil (Tolkien), Bard the Bowman Summary:

One night Bard gets lost in the forest and encounters a mysterious creature. In time he learns that meeting will prove fateful.

An amazing Barduil story full of beauty and feelings written by @graphicabyss . Please check it out!

#thranduil #bard the bowman #barduil #bard/thranduil #lotr #the hobbit #fanfic

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fantasies-fairytales-n-fics · 9 months

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Thranduil and Josie Pt. 156- The Beast Within

Summary: Narcisse tends to a disoriented Jo until the double interference of those who care for her. She receives a disturbing vision. Legolas and company go to battle. The Prince has a repeated experience. Boromir needs aid. Holy Haldir and Jo moment. Narcisse reels. Thranduil's changes become physically pestilent.

*Warnings* angst, language, violence

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

Spinning. You were spinning, so fast inside some illuminated violet vortex, screaming as you frantically fought to grab onto something, but there was only space. The speed was taking your breath away, the constant spiraling was making you severely nauseated. You couldn't open your eyes if you wanted to...and then..it all just stopped.

You awoke to a feeling of light bouncing...and the smell of peppermint tickling your nose. As your vision cleared through your fluttering eyelids, you realized it was that of Narcisse's chest hair tickling you through his open V-neck waistcoat while he carried you. All of the nausea you recalled experiencing was gone, most likely due to his scent just as it had healed you once before from the wolfsbane.

"St...Stephane?? W...what...happened? Why..are you carrying me? Wh..where am I?" you stuttered as you lifted your head to look around.

"Shhh, hush my love. You are safe. We are almost back to the castle." he explained and softly kissed your forehead.

You turned to see the castle in the near distance and what appeared to be Haldir speaking with....Bard?? You then brought your weary eyes back to Stephane's.

"I...I fell....I was...looking for..."

What were you looking for? you thought in your confused state.

"Youuu...do not remember what you were doing in the dark forest?? For that is where I found you. Indeed you had fallen, down a rather deep hole. I found you unresponsive and flew you out."

You squinted as you tried to remember. Your head hurt and all you could see was a fog.

"You...you saved me? H..how did you find me?"

"Your scent for one...as I was in the vicinity after attending to an unruly Catherine...and also, I could feel your presence. We are very connected, you and I...especially after...well..."

You smiled, knowing very well you were blushing as you recalled making crazy love to him the night before....but then you also remembered something else..

"Oh my god...Garrett!..That's what I was doing...looking for him. Stephane, he is not dead! I..I heard him singing....and talking to me...I...ugggh!! Why does my head hurt???"

You pinched the top of your nose between your eyes as you grimaced and whimpered.

"Most likely you have struck your head during the fall. Lay upon my chest. I will get you some healing water as soon as we get you back to your bed. You need rest."

You did as he asked, for you could not hold yourself up any longer.

"The forest...it...it didn't make you sick?"

"No, Jo. Remember? I am immune to poison. That includes the evil enchantment of such dark places."

"Oh...yes. I remember now...just like...Garrett is."

"Well, of course he is...for he is of the dark himself."

You could hear it, the jealousy in his tone over your mentions of the vampire you highly adored, so you closed your eyes with a sigh, and said no more.

"Jo??!!" Haldir shouted as he saw Narcisse carrying you and he immediately came charging over with Bard following. "What have you done to her??!!" he then snapped at Stephane with flaring nostils.

"I have done nothing to her! I would never harm her! I found her unconscious from a fall in the dark forest. I believe she may have hit her head."

"H...Haldir??" you weakly mumbled as you tried to open your eyes in response to the marchwarden's voice.

"Yes, sweetheart. It is I. Are you alright??" he lovingly asked as he stroked your strands from your eyes.

As he touched you, you saw a flash of Mirkwood's forest, not understanding why....and you couldn't respond because for some reason, you were extremely exhausted with one hell of migraine now.

"GIVE her to me." Haldir commanded through clenched teeth.

"I am handling this. Your assistance is not needed!" Narcisse growled as his animal instincts surfaced to protect you.

"I know what you are and it does not intimidate me in the least. Do you think one night gives you have some claim to her? Now hand the Queen to me. I will not order it again." Haldir snarled as he held his arms out and stepped forward.

"And you believe your one night gives it to you?? She chose me. Deal with it elf."

Bard then intervened between the two angered immortals.

"Lord Narcisse. The shipment I have brought needs your attention, for I have a request from Thr.....the captain of the guard for an addition to the return shipment which requires your approval and signature. The Queen will be in good hands with her great friend Haldir, for he means nothing but the best for her care. That...is what is important, yes?"

"B...Bard...it is you that...I saw?" you finally spoke a little more clearly at hearing a familiar voice from home.

"Yes, my lady. It is very good to see you after all this time. I am sorry it has to be under such circumstances and a short one at that, for I must make my long journey back soon. I was hoping to meet the new Princess, but maybe another time. I offer you my congratulations."

The bowman was having a very hard time keeping Thranduil's existence to himself as commanded to him by the King of Mirkwood, for he could not stand to see you in the arms of the warlock lord after hearing Haldir's spontaneous statement, but he knew he must, or he would face the wrath of the Elvenking.

"No...Bard...you mustn't leave. It is too dangerous. A murderous warlock by the name of Harker, is terrorizing Dorwinion. Please...stay, until he is reprimanded. You would be an easy target all alone on the river." you explained with pleading eyes.

"Why my lady, are you questioning my superior skills after killing the almighty Smaug with one shot?" Bard jested with a playful grin.

"No, of course not." you replied with a tired chuckle. "But he has killed many men here with comparable talent. I...I would just worry for you is all. Stephane?? You would not mind right? There is room for him somewhere...and I would like him to stay and meet Leean and I would like to speak with him more. I missed him the last time he was here and he won't be back for another two weeks."

Narcisse hesitated, for he did not like Bard's insulting interference just now, but to keep you satisfied and worry free, he reluctantly obliged.

"Yes...I will arrange accommodations."

"Great, It is settled then." Bard almost cheered in his happiness to remain there and do damage control when it came to you. The King of Dale had taken quite a fancy to you when he had first met you back in Lake Town and you had always been so gracious of him as well, so he felt a need to protect you, just as he had done when he aided in yours and Haldir's rescue from Peter's cabin.

"Yes, it is. Now...for the last time...the queen..." Haldir scoffed at Narcisse.

"I have really had enough of you giving me commands in my kingdom sprite. Just who is it that you think you are??"

"Stephane...you promised...I...I want to go with Haldir." you quickly told him with stern eyes....and it made Haldir grin from pointy ear to pointy ear.

Sighing, he recalled agreeing to stop giving Haldir a hard time but it was difficult to do when the elf acted as if you were his property, the way he imagined King Thranduil would be. He also hated the fact that you wanted the elf and not him to care for you. The bond you had with Haldir, he was indeed envious of.

Reluctant once again, Narcisse submitted and slid you over into Haldir's arms, where you quickly latched on to the Lorien elf's neck and cuddled your face against him, missing his strawberry essence and calming touch.

As Haldir laid you down on your bed, for some reason, Legolas entered your thoughts. It wasn't just your usual random thoughts of him that you had on a daily basis, it was your intuition screaming at you that the Sindar Prince was in danger.

Your intuition turned into a vision...a vision of orcs surrounding him. Gasping in panic, you sat up, screaming for him before you passed out.

"Leggy!!!!"

Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli had headed into the forest that same morning, deterred from departing their camp at the Old Forest Road's end along the River Running. Boromir had alerted them of oncoming orcs and then he ran off as they were packing the boats. It was already known Jareth would send his viscous army to track and kill those that had invaded his realm and took the Elvenking, but they had hoped the trail would be lost when they had changed course.

In their search for the warrior of Gondor, they were attacked from all angles, but with little effort, the trio took them all out, Aragorn with his sword, Gimli with his axe and Legolas with his bow.

These orcs were not solely the orcs that dwelled all through middle earth's mountains and forests that the three were accustomed to. These were a crossbreed of orcs, goblins and men, referred to as Uruk-hai, created by Jareth to strengthen his army. Mutant monsters they simply were, only stronger, bigger and wiser than the ordinary orc...except for Arzog, which Legolas knew he would face again someday after the defiler's defeat on Lestat's mountain.

Legolas stood guard as Aragorn finished off the last orc for the time being, for there surely would be more. As Legolas did so...he heard it again...you...calling his name in fear.

"Josie???" he reeled as his moonstone eyes darted all around. But just as once before....he heard nothing more....except for a horn blowing in the distance.

"The horn of Gondor!" Legolas shouted as more orcs invaded.

"Boromir!!"

Aragorn went rushing past him, charging through the monsters, slaying them on the way, to locate the captain of the white tower who carried the sounding horn.

The elf and dwarf ran off to follow the ranger, slaughtering at least two dozen more of the beasts before they came upon Boromir, once again blaring the horn to alert them of his whereabouts.

The King of Gondor was the first to arrive, hurdling through the trees and releasing a can of Aragorn whoop ass on the next group of homely brutes.

The intense fight continued as the quartet defeated them all in union, one by one but more orcs kept appearing from the trees, and one of those was their leader, the biggest and ugliest demon of them all....Lurtz.

As Boromir swung his sword, ending the atrocious beings in his path, Lurtz took special aim of his bow at unaware red haired warrior, firing one of the morgul arrows into his chest.

Although stunned by the strike, it did not stop Boromir from going down without a fight. Bravely, he powered on through his pain, as Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli fought their own attackers, unaware that Boromir had been struck.

Lurtz then aimed again, twice as Boromir turned to see the deadly arrows flying at him with no time to react. They pierced him in the stomach and this time, he dropped in defeat, unable to take anymore as he gasped for air.

"Nooooooo!!!" Aragorn shouted as he witnessed his good friend's take down a little too late. Legolas and Gimli came charging in, fending off the surrounding guild to protect Boromir as Aragorn attacked Lurtz.

The man verses orc battle was long and bloody, and the fang toothed orc liked blood, enough so that he licked it off of his blade with his serpent like tar colored tongue as a befuddled and injured Aragorn watched.

Lurtz then came at the ranger, who surprised the slate skinned orc by slicing his morgul blade wielding arm right off.

It became apparent to Aragorn that Lurtz was immune to pain, for it had only angered the orc, and he proved it by pushing his body onto Aragorn's sword as he roared his ungodly breath into his face.

"You may not feel that, but you will feel this!" Aragorn validated as he yanked his sword free of the orc's ghastly guts and swiftly beheaded the beast of his burdens.

Aragorn then ran to the aid of his greatly injured friend as Legolas and Gimli finished off the few remaining orcs.

"You must tell the queen about my brother." Boromir pleaded through his faint breaths as he was quickly becoming pale.

"You will tell her yourself...and she will heal you as well, for I have seen what she can do. You must hold on my friend."

Aragorn was referring to Gausyr, the elf of Rivendell who was once dark and you brought him back to the light with the simple touch of your hands and extraordinary heart of compassion and empathy. Aragorn had healing power, but not the kind you possessed that was needed for such wounds.

"Legolas, Gimli! Help me get him to the boats." the ranger commanded as he broke the poisoned arrows off and removed them from Boromir's body, then wrapped his wounds tightly with his cloak to try and slow the blood loss.

Once loaded, off they paddled down the stream and entered the Celduin to hopefully make it to the Dorwinion castle by dusk and in time to save Boromir. The blood loss was great and it was clear he also had a punctured lung which could very well kill him before the poison did.

You awoke to see Haldir's concerned ultramarine orbs gazing at you as he gently patted your forehead with the magical healing water. A sight for sore eyes he certainly was, the elf you had repeatably hurt, still at your side.

A soft smile formed on his lips as you gazed back into his eyes and reached up to touch his porcelain colored cheek.

"Y..you're still here?"

"Of course I am Jo...are you feeling better now?"

"Actually...yes...but..."

You then remembered Legolas and sat right up with a gasp.

"Leggy!...Haldir, I...I...saw him..."

He tilted his head at you. "In the...forest earlier? Has he come back?"

"No..no..in a...vision...I can't explain it, for this vision thing is all so new and comes and goes when it pleases...but...I saw him and there were orcs all around...and...and then it all just vanished...Haldir, what if he is in trouble?? Are my visions prophetic like my dreams? or did it already happen? Or was it happening as I saw it??? Or..was I just hallucinating or something from the dark forest or maybe I hit my head like Narcisse said and..."

"Jo...Jo, please...slow down. Take a breath. I wish I had the answer for you. Did you see where he was by chance??"

"I....there was...a river...and...wait...I know the river! It's the one he and I came here on...the Celduin."

"It runs alongside Mirkwood for a good distance. There could possibly be an orc invasion. It has happened before at the elven gates of Forest river. Jo...Legolas is highly skilled as you well know and he has an entire elven army at his back...but...we can always go to Mirkwood. I can take you and Leean away from here.."

"I...I cannot go without that book. Harker must be stopped, Jareth too. I need to get my dad back and end all this....then..."

"Then...you will leave here with me like you once said you would? Or...stay with Narcisse like you have decided to do instead.."

Haldir's eyes filled with sadness and all you could do was what you wanted to do since you first awoke...what you have wanted to do for so long now.

You pulled Haldir into a hug, gripping your arms snuggly around his neck. The shocked elf held his hands momentarily about behind you, then he slowly and firmly returned the embrace.

"I...I just want to stay like this. I want everything to be like it used to be between us. I miss you so much Haldir. That is why I wanted you to bring me here and not Stephane." you confessed, sniffling into his sweet fruity strands.

"It is all that I want too Jo....but....why...why did you do it...why him Jo."

You quickly ended the embrace and stared at him. "I...I do not want to talk about that with you."

"But you will allow me to hear it instead." he retorted and pursed his lips. "I was here with your daughter, right across the hall and you gave no regards to knowing I would know. I know that you owe me no explanations, but a little respect would be suffice, for you know how I feel about you."

"I...I don't know why...I...am sorry. I never meant to hurt you and yet that's all I seem to do...you're right, I should have had more respect for your feelings...I'm just so...lost...and I got caught up in a moment and he was there and..."

"I was there Jo! I am here Jo! I have always been here! Why did you not come to me instead??" Haldir snapped and got up to pace like he always did when he was angry.

"And now...you're mad at me again...you're always mad at me, we are always fighting and I can't take it anymore. It...it hurts me too, so much, that I am hurting you..."

"Really?? It would seem I was the last thing on your mind last night Jo...I always am last anymore. We have had this conversation more than once and nothing changes! Why did you even save me Jo?? I would rather have succumbed to my three thousand years by a bowl of poisoned soup than to suffer this."

"Is that even a serious question?? I saved you because I...care about you!! Deeply! Did you think I was just going to let you die?? Just like before, I risked everything to get that damn pendant for you when you stupidly drank the poisoned wine! You could have just knocked the glass from Thranduil's hand, but no, you had to go and be the hidden hero once again!""

"Oh I am definitely hidden alright, in the shadows of Narcisse and Garrett! And ahhh yes, speaking of the devil himself, the poisoned wine by GARRETT who was trying to kill your king! The same vampire I am willing to bet YOU stupidly went into the dark forest looking for and look what happened. Am I close Jo?? It is a good thing your ever so trusted and perfect warlock found you, you know, the one who ALSO gets to call you Jo? I suppose I am to blame that Garrett ever gained any kind of control over you, for I knew you would not uphold your promise to not go and try to bargain with him for the pendant, and I will forever feel responsible for that, but I never thought in a million years that you would fall for him. Am I close again Jo? Hell, I even comforted you last night when you believed he was dead, even after I knew you had relations with Narcisse only hours before. All these things I do for you, and I am last to get any acknowledgement because I STUPIDLY am still in love with you..."

All went quiet as you both intensely stared into each other's eyes. You hadn't seen Haldir this angry in a very long time and honestly, you couldn't blame him. You knew he was right about everything and would never see the good in Garrett.

"Look...yes, I went into the forest to try and find out where he was. I was actually looking for Amara because I think she knows...I...I don't know what happened...I don't remember anything after falling, except for excruciating pain in my head and dizziness. I...I almost feel like...I may have even died and left my body, I can't explain it. You're right, it was stupid to go alone, but if I had asked you to go, would you? I highly doubt it and we would have ended up in another fight, just like now. I know you don't care for him, but I feel he is in some kind of trouble. I mean, Haldir, did you forget he saved Legolas?? Does that even matter to you?"

Haldir shook his head with a cocky grin. "I would have went and you know it, to keep you safe. I...I am at a loss with you anymore Jo...I just told you I am in love with you still and all you can do is stand here and defend that fucking vampire!"

To say Haldir was angry was now an understatement, for swearing was not in his vocabulary. It was yours though and obviously your influence was rubbing off on him and not for the better.

"I...I am sorry to interrupt, but...please...your tones. It will scare the child." Lola timidly said as she skittishly and foolishly crept up behind him.

"What business is this of yours girl? Leave the room and give us some privacy!" Haldir barked at her as he spun around, making her jump.

"Haldir Galahon! Do not speak to Lola in such a way!" you scolded. "Apologize at once!"

He halted his pacing and whipped around to you, lips pursed again, nose flaring.

"I will not. It is common courtesy to excuse yourself of a private conversation and to not...how would you say it Jo? Butt the hell in!"

"I...I'm sorry...I...I will go." Lola squeaked and ran out.

"Nice Haldir, nice! You're pissed at me, I get it, but don' t be a jackass to Lola who has been nothing but a godsend since we came here."

"We never should have stayed here. It's this place...everything between us changed, no thanks to Narcisse and even Garrett."

"Everything changed because my husband died!!!!!" you shouted and flung up to your feet. "Thranduil, remember him???"

"Obviously you don't! Sleeping with the enemy! Pining after another enemy...leading his son on...it is a good thing Legolas kept his wits about him and wised up! Maybe I should too finally! I was only good enough for you when you thought Thranduil was unfaithful! Now that he is dead, your new cock of choice are that of warlocks and vampires."

Your eyes stung of tears as your blood began to swelter in fury and you then found your hand speeding to a head on collision with his face, until he snatched your wrist in mid air and yanked you against him.

Gasping, you figured this was where he would either apologize, saying he didn't mean it or he would lay into you some more with his hurtful thoughts...but he did neither. Instead, he planted a deep passionate kiss on your lips.

Your eyes sprung wide open as you whimpered, trying to pushing him away, but it was futile to say the least, for his strong elven arms locked your small body in place. Of course, you could have used magic to free yourself...but you would never use it on him, plus...you quickly found yourself not wanting to push him away.

Your eyes fluttered shut, releasing the tears they held back as your body slowly relaxed within his hold and then you allowed your lips to part and melt into his. The memories of his velvety kisses and being intimate with him flashed through your mind as his sweet strawberry intoxicating taste took you back in time. Was he using his own damn magic on you? His calming effects to make you give in? No...no....this was...real. It was like he woke up the hibernated feelings for him inside of you, for that is all that they had been...asleep. They had never went away.

You found yourself pushing further into him as your fingers entangled in his strands of silk and a soft moan came out your nose. No...no, you couldn't let this happen again, you had to stop it.

This time, you pushed hard, forcing him to release you. Panting as you stood there with your hand over your mouth in shock, you then caught him off guard by serving him the slap he intercepted moments earlier.

"Oh god...I...I'm sorry...I don't know why I..."

Haldir didn't listen, nor did he care as he jerked you back into his arms and reclaimed your mouth....and you let him. His hands then tenderly cupped your face as his tongue softly found yours...this...this was good...and it felt...right....until...

"I....am sorry to interrupt..."

There stood a very frazzled Narcisse.

Both you and Haldir stared at him briefly, then at each other...speechless in the awkward moment.

Narcisse then continued to explain his intrusion with a blatantly obvious scorned tone.

"I...Lola...I found her in the dining hall in tears and she would not tell me what happened, so I....came to find out if everything was alright...apparently...it is from what I can see. I...also wanted to inform you that Catherine has injured herself and is being temporarily held in the infirmary under heavy guard..."

Haldir's eyes softened about Lola. "I...I will go and apologize to her Jo and then send her back."

His eyes also didn't want to break free of yours, but Haldir knew he should go, or things would probably go from bad to worse when it came to him and Stephane.

Haldir quickly exited and Stephane stood in place for a moment, his deeply pained eyes fixated on you.

"Bard's accommodations have been met. He is at the end of the hall, near the sitting room. I must go now and tend to this Catherine issue, for I can see you need nothing from me."

Abruptly, he left. You felt shaky, sick and now more confused than ever as you clumsily sat down, lightly touching your aching tingly lips, still tasting of Haldir. Wine...you needed wine and lots of it.

You drank a large glass down in a few gulps as you gazed at a sleeping Leean, surprised that she slept through all of the commotion. The wicked vintage only intensified his taste, now making the flavor of a strawberry wine.

Lola came back in, cautiously, for when she spoke to Haldir, she detected his demeanor to be rather emotional and Narcisse, whom she passed in the hall, didn't speak to her, nor even look at her as he zipped by in an acute state.

"Josie?? What has happened? Haldir...he was very sweet and apologized, but he...he looked so...lost...and Lord Narcisse, well...one should stay out of his way or they'll certainly be trampled."

"Ughhh...he was here Lola...he saw..."

"He sawwww....what??"

"Haldir and I...we...kissed....Stephane, he walked in....oh god Lola, what have I done? Narcisse has been so good to me, how will I ever explain this to him??"

"Well....what is this...this, that you speak of. First you must figure that out."

You sat back down and threw your hands over your face, sobbing. Lola was right...she was always right. Now what were you going to do??

Thranduil had made his way back to his chambers, lost in a state of utter confusion over what he had just experienced with you, for he didn't even know what that was. Had you projected like he had? Like you possibly also did when he was at Moonlight in Rivendell? Had you even projected all those months ago when he saw your vision in the forest? When you had read his journal? Were you even aware of your shared capability? He had to know, for he could still feel your lips upon his...your taste was inside every corner of his mouth. Hurry he must, and look into your stone, before the Elvenking regained his reign.

His hand vigorously shook as he clutched the moonstone so tight, it should have crumbled into a million pieces, for the vision he saw was not what he expected...Haldir's lips, passionately on yours and you were happily reciprocating.

Slamming it down on the desk, the Elvenking arose and headed to the wine table, guzzling down three glasses in a row, then he turned to stare at the gem. The stare became a glare and he then tossed it back in the lock box, only this time...he removed his moonstone ring and placed it inside too, leaving Jareth's citrine ring to be the sole piece of jewelry he now bore.

He needed to release his frustrations, but this time, it would not be with his cock. Off to a dark private chamber he went, filled with an array of weaponry, solely used by him to work through his demons in a physical manner.

Thranduil removed his robe, revealing his bare and very fit upper body lightly covered by his flowing platinum locks, then he picked up a spear with an extremely sharp and long curved blade. As he placed it before him in his grip, it stood taller than he was.

His face was expressionless, emotionless...just plain empty and then he began to swing it about, fileting the air all around him with his martial art skills.

The more he envisioned you with Haldir...Narcisse even...the faster he swung and the angrier he became.

Something was happening to him in that moment. Something sinister and he didn't even realize it. He was physically changing and not for the better.

His battle scars, they were surfacing, breaking through his magic that he had used to conceal them, his skin was turning as pale as ivory, like a corpse, his smooth flawless face was becoming crusty like chalk, his eyes blackened with an eerie glowing golden hue like the citrine ring itself.

Thranduil moved swiftly with insane stealth and agility, far better than he ever had as he spun around the damp fire lit room. His energy surpassed what he had ever experienced.

The Elvenking was more powerful than ever. He was unstoppable and damn anyone that got in his way.

Th revelation of his becoming, he was now aware of as he stood panting in the bright light that shone down on him from a hole to the outside above.

He then saw his unrecognizable reflection in the blade of his weapon. At first, he was taken aback with a slight feel of panic, but then he quickly embraced it as an elated smile formed on his lips.

"So this is what it's like to be a dark elf lord..." he chuckled.

His deep intimidating voice, the one thing that did not change, then echoed through the vast ominous atmosphere as he shouted.

"I am Thranduil Oropherion!! King of the Woodland Realm! I am.....the ELVENKING!!!!"

(NOTE: Yes, I know that the gifs are of Prince Nuada but it is not intended to be him. I am only using them to show Thranduil's alter image for this fic.)

@redeemer46

youtube

Here we go again, it's madness I swear I don't mean things I scream at you This hate inside of me, it's sadness I can't control the stupid things I do

Over and over and over again It turns on me, it's a beast inside me A beast that I don't even know

Here I go again, relentless The mirror shows the red in my eyes This human being I was once before Is now a scary story filled with lies

Over and over and over again It turns on me, it's a beast inside me A beast that I don't even know

The cages don't work The chains don't hold me down I'm digging my way through the past And clawing at the ground

The cages don't work The chains don't hold me down I'm digging my way through the past And clawing out, clawing out

Over and over and over again It screams at me, it's a beast inside me A beast inside me that I cannot control

A beast in me, there's a beast in me A beast in me

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bi-widower-dads · 12 days

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Barduil Month 2024 Week 3, Monday 15-Sunday 21 April: Established Relationship

Here we are in week 3 of Barduil Month 2024! This week's prompts are:

blended family | anniversaries | parties, festivals and holidays | downtime, time to relax, days off | family traditions

Happy creating! Don't forget to tag us in your posts so we can add them to our queue for reblogging!

FAQ | AO3 Collection

#barduilmonth2024 #barduil #bard/thranduil #bard the bowman #thranduil #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit fanfic #the hobbit fanart #the hobbit fanworks #the hobbit #otp: bi widower dads

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mlmxreader · 4 months

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Just Be You | Bard the Bowman x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Bard

58 “It looks good on you, you should wear it more often” ❞

: ̗̀➛ Bard is having doubts about himself when it comes to meeting your family.

: ̗̀➛ swearing

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Bard grumbled as he looked at himself in the mirror, frowning as he doubted that he looked good enough.

He was going to meet your family for the first time, and he was quite nervous in all honesty; he knew your family weren't much better off than his own, coming from a farm in the next town over and making very little despite the hours and hours of hard labour.

He knew they wouldn't judge his situation, either; two children of his own, he was more than glad that your family immediately agreed to accept both of them as yours as well.

But months of courtship suddenly felt like too little as he ran a hand through his hair and wondered if he should cut it. Maybe he should have neatened himself up a bit more.

But with Bain, Sigrid and Tilda off at their schoolmates' homes for the weekend for various birthday parties and sleepovers, Bard felt a little outnumbered.

Even when you walked in with a fresh cup of tea, putting your arm on his shoulder and smiling at him through the mirror, he felt a little out of place. Out of depth.

"What is it?" You asked, tilting your head to the side and pressing the mug into his hand. "C'mon, cough it up."

He let out a long sigh, chewing at the inside of his lip. "Are you sure this looks alright?"

You nodded as you hummed, daring to tug at the lapel of his soft fur jacket. It was one of the best ones he had, a medium brown colour with a thicker fur trim on the inside, collar and ends of the sleeves.

You rarely saw him wear it anymore, even though it looked so good on him; you bit at the inside of your lip, pushing certain thoughts from your mind before clearing your throat and daring to kiss his cheek.

"I love that coat," you told him softly. "It looks good on you, you should wear it more often."

Bard glared at you for a second, shaking his head. "And what of the rest?"

"The white shirt is a good start," you mused, stepping in front of him and resting your hand on his chest. "The black trousers are also good..."

"But?"

"But," you couldn't help but to laugh a little as you shrugged. "You're quite a distraction."

He rolled his eyes, putting the cup of tea to the side and gently taking your wrists in his hands, holding them to his chest. "I want to make a good impression."

"I know," you told him softly, daring to steal a quick kiss. "I don't doubt that you will... trust me, my family already told you when they wrote - Bain, Sigrid and Tilda are already part of us. Why wouldn't they accept you?"

"I look awful," he huffed.

"You look like a man that works on the barges," you said softly. "I don't want you to pretend to be something you're not just to make an impression. We're no better off than you are. They won't mind."

"I stink of fish," Bard huffed.

"And usually I stink of horse shit whenever I come over," you pointed out. "It's alright. Be your usual self. Please, even just for me?"

"Alright," he nodded, daring to smile. "Do you really like the coat that much?"

"Definitely," you grinned. "I wonder why you stopped wearing it so much."

Bard knew why, he wanted at least one half decent coat for whenever he was seen with you; he was proud to be a man of the people, but that didn't mean that he didn't want to look good for you. To look like he actually put in effort for once.

Even though you kept telling him that just being present was plenty enough effort for you. He knew how much you put in for him; helping the children with their studies and taking them out for meals and to visit different places.

Bard knew that you treated them like one of your own, and he was glad of it, really. But it was the effort you put in for him, as well. He wasn't stupid. Bard saw how you always paused at the bottom of the ladder to fix your clothes and to make yourself look presentable for him after spending all day on the farm.

He saw you change out of your boots and into a pair of somewhat better ones that you carried with you. He saw how you put in so much effort to look good for him.

"Suppose I just don't think about it," he said, daring to smile as he tugged you a little closer. "Maybe you can borrow it next time."

You put both hands on his chest, grinning at him as you nodded. "I'd like that... it's a shame the children can't come with us."

He nodded slowly. "I'm sure they would have liked to have come."

"As long as you're alright with my gran insisting that they eat tonnes of cake and sweets," you chuckled. "Maybe next time."

As outnumbered and nervous as he felt, Bard was actually glad that the children couldn't join in meeting your family; he would have hated it if he had disappointed them by making a bad impression, even if you were adamant that he would never.

There was always a chance; a wrong choice of words here, a stumble there, dropping something, not realising how things were done - he knew it was easy to make mistakes.

He was well aware that your family had expectations; you were only a few years younger than Bard, and he knew full well that you would be expected to take over the farm and to settle down and marry someone who would help.

You didn't seem to care, though, as whenever he brought it up, you admitted that you didn't mind if he wanted to stay in Lake-town as a bargeman. If he was happy, you were happy.

"I love you," Bard admitted quietly, bringing your hands to his lips and gently kissing your fingertips.

You grinned, sight getting a bit blurry as your face felt hot. You swallowed thickly. "That's the first time you said that..."

He paused, eyes widening as it dawned on him. "So it is."

"I love you, too," you whispered, gently pulling your hands from his grasp so that you could cup his cheeks, kissing him softly. "I love you... trust me, tonight is going to go just fine. They'll love you. Just be... you. Be the Bard I fell in love with, yeah?"

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