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“Da! Da! Da!” Came Sigrid’s excited voice as she charged though the house and into the kitchen, where Bard was making dinner.
“What is it Darlin’” Bard asked with an amused smile as his eldest practically vibrated with excitement.
“I got in! I actually got in!” She squealed.
“That’s excellent!” Bard replied with a big smile and sweeping her up into a big bear hug.
He knew she was talking about the prestigious Greenwood dance academy. He’d known when he’d allowed her to apply that she would get in, she was just that good, and that wasn’t even fatherly bias, she just was.
So he’d already done the calculations in his head, he’d have to get another job just to cover the fees. But he couldn’t have taken away this opportunity for her, he’d find a way to make it work, he always did.
He would be able to juggle three jobs, he’d find a way. And their neighbour, little old Mrs Beeham never minded watching or checking in on the kids. She treated Bard like the son she’d never had. He didn’t know what he’d do without her really.
Anyway, he’d manage.
“But da! I haven’t even told you the best part!” Sigrid cried.
“There’s more?” Bard laughed, Sigrid’s smiles had always been infectious, so there was no way he wasn’t mirroring her beaming face.
“I got a full scholarship! Da! The whole thing!”
“Seriously! That’s wonderful darlin’!” Bard could feel the relief in his chest as she told him. “But don’t the scholarships come out a little after the letters of acceptance?” Bard asked, sure he’d read that somewhere.
“Um, yeah.”
“You already knew you were in? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Oh da, I wasn’t going to make you get two more jobs just to send me to dance school. I know you would but that’s not fair.”
Bard gathered his eldest up in his arms in a tight hug. She had always been so considerate, he didn’t like that she knew how strapped they were, but it was fairly obvious.
“It’s not your job to worry about that. Or me.”
“Someone’s got to worry about you da. Maybe we can worry about each other from now on.”
Bard smiled at his eldest, he’d never been able to hide anything from her, she was too perceptive for that. He went back to making dinner and Sigrid set the table, before rounding up Bain and Tilda. She was so much like her mother.
Everyone would be going back to school in just under a month, Tilda was in her last year before ‘big school’, as she liked to call it, which was terrifying enough. Bain had managed to get on the district archery team (something that Bard was incredibly proud of) despite only using Bard’s old and out dated bows. Bard would have found a way to get him new ones, but Bain had insisted that he didn’t want new ones.
And Sigrid would be headed to the Greenwood Academy of Dance. He knew part of the terms of the scholarship was that her academic grades didn’t drop below B, despite all the extra dancing, but Bard wasn’t worried, she had always been clever and rigorously organised.
He’d been saving up little but often over the summer and he thought that by the end of the summer he would be able to get Bain some new arrows, Tilda that pretty little dress she had been eyeing up – even though she had never actually asked for it, his children may be too perceptive about their lack of money, but they’d got that perceptiveness from him. And he would be able to buy Sigrid some proper dance shoes before she started at the academy.
They all tucked in to their dinner, talking excitedly about Sigrid’s scholarship and Bain’s competition and Tilda talking about her last year in her ‘little’ school; Bard couldn’t keep the smile off his face.
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The Greenwood Academy of Dance was run by the elusive Thranduil Oropherion.
As Bard attended the induction for parents, informing them of all the things that would be expect of their kids, how they could support them, where to go with queries, yada yada yada, he learnt quite a lot about the mysterious Thranduil Oropherion.
And the most interesting thing he learnt was that no one actually knew much of anything about him.
Bard learnt from the gossiping mothers, that all anyone actually knew was that Thranduil had been a world class dancer – legendary apparently – but had retired early. Some people thought it was because of dance injury, others guessed at something to do with his ex-wife leaving him with an infant son.
Either way, Thranduil had opened up the Greenwood Academy of Dance, and people had flocked to it. He used to hold lessons personally, running master classes and beginners classes alike. But five years ago there had been a fire at the academy – a bad one, Bard remembered hearing about it, but it was before he had started volunteering with the fire department. By some miracle there had been no fatalities and the school had been quickly rebuilt.
But no one had seen so much as a glimpse of Thranduil since.
In fact, people only really knew he was still living near here was because his son attended the school. Otherwise he could’ve been running the school from a tropical beach somewhere for all people saw of him.
Thranduil was depicted to Bard as a mysterious recluse, and because of his sudden withdrawal, people liked to gossip. But bard tuned out everything that wasn’t fact. And at the end of the day, Thranduil had employed the best dance teachers from all over the world, so his academy was as good as ever.
Bard went to work that day slightly late after the induction. His boss was a bastard but luckily Percy had been able to cover his first two hours. Work at the garage was hard, but it was fairly social and Bard was good at it. Even if it was dirty work that left him covered in grease and pretty sweaty by the end of the day, Bard liked it all the same.
As he arrived his curiosity got the better of him and he did a quick google search for Thranduil Oropherion. The first few results were news articles about the fire, attributed to faulty wiring, but after that Bard found some videos.
He tapped on the first one and watched, curious as to what all the fuss was about this guy’s dancing. When he watched it, it became clear to Bard that legendary barely did the man justice, he’d never seen someone move so gracefully and with such measured elegance. Every tiny movement was calculated and deliberate, long blonde hair whipping behind him uncontrolled yet perfect.
Bard was mesmerised, and he didn’t even like dancing that much.
Enchanted by the tall, slender figure, Bard flicked onto images and was met with pictures of the most beautiful man (or anyone really) that Bard had ever seen. There was not a single bad photo of him, even mid-routine he looked amazing.
His cheekbones were high his jaw was strong and sharp, almost haughty. His skin was a smooth and flawless alabaster, contrasted perfectly with thick dark eyebrows and complimented further by silken silvery hair reaching down his back. His eyes were piercing and icy blue, almost sparkling like there were stars trapped in them. He was simply beautiful.
There were articles upon articles on Thranduil, they described him as proud and regal, arrogant but with reason, because he really was that good. And then one day, there was just nothing. Articles about the fire were rife, but after that, nothing.
Usually, fixing cars took Bard right out of his mind, getting into the rhythm of work and not really needing to think at all. But he’d be lying if he said that today his mind wasn’t wandering to a beautiful but sharp face, long silvery hair, and the mystery that surrounded it.
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“Da, I need you to sign this.” Sigrid announced, passing over some kind of permission slip.
“What is it?” Bard asked, taking it and grabbing a pen
“It’s just to say that it’s okay if they film me, cameras and child protection and all that.” She clarified, leaning on the kitchen counter.
“Oh, why do they need to film you?” Bard questioned curiously, but he as already signing it.
“Well it will be for when we do performances as well, but they film some classes and send them to Thranduil who watches them and sends back feedback. Legolas says it’s what he spends most of his day doing.” Sigrid explained happily.
“Legolas?”
“Oh, that’s Thranduil’s son.”
“You’re friends?”
“Yeah, we got partnered up on the first day and we just sorta clicked.” She smiled, Bard raised a pointed eyebrow. “Not like that da, Legolas doesn’t even swing this way.” She said with a laugh and a shake of her head.
“Why doesn’t he just come and watch? Rather than doing the tapes” Bard enquired, the man obviously still cared about his students, if he went to the effort to watch all the tapes and send feedback, but what didn’t make sense was why we wouldn’t just go to the school. Bard couldn’t work it out.
“Legolas says he doesn’t leave the house anymore. He hasn’t said why, I don’t want to push him, he doesn’t like to talk about his father much.”
“They don’t get along?” Bard asked, not wanting to sound like he was prying, but he was intrigued.
“No, Legolas loves his father to pieces, they got along really well. He just doesn’t like talking about him, I think because his dad doesn’t like to be talked about.”
Bard just nodded and handed the permission slip back where Sigrid slipped it straight into her bag so she wouldn’t forget it tomorrow.
“Oh that reminds me, Da, can Legolas come over for dinner later in the week?”
“Yeah of course, you know your friends are always welcome. What does he eat?”
“Not meat.”
“Pasta it is then.” Bard answered easily with a smile, Sigrid kissed him on the cheek before heading upstairs to do her homework.
-----------------------
Legolas was a good kid. Kind, helpful, smart. The first thing he and Sigrid had done when they got home had been their homework. Before setting up in the small living room and watching a film – he teased their choice when it was one of those modern dance films. Sigrid threw a cushion at him and Legolas giggled into his hand.
He and Sigrid had practically shoved Bard out of the way to do the dishes despite his protestations. And Bard could tell from the pictures he’d seen that Legolas resembled his father, blonde hair, blue eyes, tall and slender.
When it was time for Legolas to go home there was a car waiting for him outside, Bard eyed it curiously, but the driver was a grumpy looking black haired man, clearly not the elusive Thranduil.
So that’s how things went, Legolas came round a couple of times a week, and got picked up by the driver (who was normally late) and took him home. Bard made sure he texted Sigrid that he had gotten home safe each time so he didn’t end up worrying.
Sigrid didn’t go to Legolas’ house, it seemed that Thranduil didn’t like visitors, but he clearly cared deeply for his son, from the scarce things he had heard Legolas say about his father. Sigrid had even received personally written feedback from him about one of her routines, he gave constructive and analytical notes which Sigrid had poured over for days before acing her first performance exam.
But one day, about a month into Sigrid and Legolas’ friendship, Legolas’ driver never turned up to pick him up.
“You can stay here you know? We have an airbed and it’s no trouble. Or I can drive you home now, it’s up to you.” Bard offered, it had gotten quite late and there were no signs of the driver.
“I should get back. My dad will probably be worrying about me.”
“You can give him a call?” Bard suggested.
“Yeah, but I don’t really like leaving him, I mean he’s – ” Legolas tried to explain.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me. Come on, I’ll take you home.” Bard cut in easily, not wanting Legolas to feel cornered. “Sig, can you make sure Tilda gets to bed on time?”
“Yeah, sure thing da. Drive safe, see you tomorrow Leg.” She answered with a quick hug to them each.
He grabbed his keys and coat as it was probably pretty cold in the car and headed out to the car with Legolas.
They chatted surprisingly easily as Legolas directed him towards his house, talking about the routine Legolas was working on with Sigrid for their assessed piece at the end of term.
They were driving out deep into the country, but Bard knew he had a pretty good sense of direction and wouldn’t have too much trouble finding his way back.
Eventually they turned up a long driveway leading up to a large house – almost, but not quite a mansion. The grounds around the house were vast a wooded, Bard would be willing to bet there was a fair amount of deer and wildlife living in there.
Bard didn’t think anything of it as he climbed out of the car and walked him up to his front door. It was something he always did when dropping kids home, even though Legolas was fifteen years old, a side effect of being an overprotective father he imagined.
Despite having been genuinely curious about Thranduil for so long, it hadn’t actually occurred to him that the man himself might answer the door. A house that large he guess he would’ve expected staff to answer the door, but that was not what happened.
The door was opened by someone could only be Thranduil, tall with long silvery hair. But he had violent, painful looking scars ravaging the left side of his face, his cheek was almost caved in, with exposed muscles and tendons from his chin to his thick eyebrow. One of his eyes was completely clouded over white, vision scarred from it.
Thranduil didn’t even notice him stood behind Legolas as he pulled his son into a hug. Bard could see there were scars marring his left hand as well, Bard suspected they ran down the entire length of the left side of his body.
He couldn’t imagine how painful it must’ve been, how painful it must still be. God, how had he even survived such trauma?
But Bard made sure not to stare at the scars while waiting for Thranduil to notice him. Suddenly he felt bad for being there, it was so obvious now why Thranduil locked himself away, why he did not want to be seen. Even if Bard thought that he was still beautiful, Bard though maybe it was just the bravery this man must have to carry on at all with such an injury.
“I was worried about you.” He heard Thranduil say to his son.
“Sorry ada, I would have texted, but I was on my way home already.”
“Next time you make sure to call. I thought the car may have crashed”
“I promise.” Legolas replied sheepishly. “I did not mean to worry you. Alfrid never turned up, Bard drove me home.”
At this, Thranduil noticed Bard, Bard realised that he may well have been standing in the other man’s blind spot, which is why with that and the relief of seeing his son he hadn’t been noticed immediately. Thranduil probably couldn’t drive without vision in that eye.
Thranduil flinched visibly when he noticed Bard in the doorway. Bard watched as he fractionally turned his left side towards the house, as if he was trying to mask his scars from sight.
“Thank you for bringing my son home safely.” Thranduil thanked quietly, inclining his head slightly.
“It was no trouble, really.” Bard smiled, attempting to put the other man at ease. Wanting to assure him that he wasn’t going to gossip, but without actually bringing it up.
“Well, thank you, Bard.” Thranduil said again, quickly and quietly before gently closing the door and retreating inside his big house.
Bard walked back to his car and started the engine, lost in thought as he drove back. He had found himself liking the way his name sounded on Thranduil’s tongue.
There had been something so lonely about him. Something so tragic and yet something else so very strong. Bard would bet that it was one of his biggest fears now to be seen as weak, broke, a shadow of what he was, that it was probably why he hid himself away.
But Bard had been volunteering with the fire department long enough to know that that couldn’t be farther from the truth. He had seen first-hand the strength that it took to pull yourself back up and so much as get up in the mornings after such an injury.
For some reason, Bard couldn’t help but want to make Thranduil see that. See his own strength.
-----------------------
Legolas was round their house again just a few days later, and while bard was making dinner he overheard his conversation with Sigrid in the living room.
“My dad has had to fire Alfrid, turns out he’s been driving round town in the car and charging my dad for petrol, claiming it was what he used to run me around. Also he’d just full on never picked me up last time, and that’s not even the first time that’s happened.” Legolas explained.
“But that’s a good thing isn’t it? You never liked Alfrid and he wasn’t even doing his job properly or well.” Sigrid reasoned.
“Yeah, but my dad hates hiring new people. He won’t meet with them so he’s always worried about what they’re really like and if he can trust them. It’s why I told him Alfrid was fine, trying to hire without having to actually meet them was stressing him out and upsetting him. It’s why we don’t have any help at home, he won’t hire them, not a single person to help him out.” Legolas told her, his own voice was sad and a little stressed, it was worrying Bard.
“Wait, if your dad had to fire Alfrid how have you been getting home this week?” Sigrid asked.
“I took the bus.”
“Leg!” Sigrid scolded, smacking him on the arm. “The closest stop to your house is at least a half hour walk from your house, and those roads are hardly safe to walk on. Does your dad know?”
“He thinks the bus stops much closer.”
“Why does he think that?”
“’Cause that’s what I told him.” Sigrid smacked him upside the head again.
“How were you planning on getting home today?” She continued her interrogation.
“Bus.” Legolas mumbled.
“Don’t be stupid it’s dark. My dad will drive you, all you had to do was say. Da!” Called Sigrid’s voice.
“Yeah?” he asked, even though he knew what her question was going to be.
“Can you drop Leg home tonight please?” She asked him.
“Of course.” Bard replied with a smile, and the boy visibly relaxed at little.
Later, when he and Legolas were in the car, Bard brought the topic up again.
“You know, you’re welcome at ours anytime, and I’m happy to drive you home if it makes it easier. You can come over after school and I can drop you home after I finish work until your dad can hire a new driver, so he doesn’t have to feel stressed about it?” Bard offered.
“It’s okay. I don’t want to make anything difficult.” Legolas responded, obviously worried about being a burden.
“You’re not making anything difficult. I really don’t mind. What I do mind is knowing that you’re walking down these roads to get home.” Bard lightly chastised with a raised eyebrow.
“Sorry. Thank you.”
“Will you also explain that you may have been fibbing about how close the bus comes?”
Legolas nodded as Bard parked the car.
“Here, pass me your phone.” Bard instructed, reaching his hand to Legolas, who gave him his sleek phone. “I’m putting my number in, if you ever need a lift, you call me and I will happily come and get you.”
Legolas nodded again as he took his phone back, slipping it into his pocket. They both got out of the car and walked up to the front door, which Thranduil answered, quickly turning his left side away again when he noticed Bard. Bard had been sure to stand where he could be seen this time.
“Thank you for dropping my son home again.” Thranduil said softly to the ground as Legolas scampered up the stairs.
“It’s no trouble, you know, I can drop him home until you get a new driver sorted?” Bard offered.
“I couldn’t possibly ask that of you.” Thranduil replied, eyes still trained on the floor.
“You’re not asking, I’m offering.”
At that Thranduil’s eyes looked up cautiously from the ground, as I trying to figure him out.
“You do not mind? Legolas has been getting the bus which while not ideal is okay for now.” Thranduil asked tentatively, like he wasn’t sure what Bard’s game was.
“Yeah, there’s probably something Legolas needs to tell you about that bus. But really, I am happy to do it.” Bard said sincerely.
“If you truly do not mind, then I would be very grateful.” Came Thranduil’s answer, turning his eyes away again and continuing to hold himself rigidly.
Bard smiled and turned away from the door, heading back to the car, knowing he was making Thranduil uncomfortable merely by seeing him, he planned to change that, even if it took years.
He got a text from Legolas later in the day thanking him.
So over the next week, Bard drove Legolas home, usually as soon as he got home from work; Legolas was usually keen to get home as Thranduil was all alone in the house. It made Bard sad to think about the other man alone in that big house.
Every time Bard walked Legolas to the door, he could see how uncomfortable Thranduil was, despite his genuine gratitude for Bard’s help he still did not like being seen. All too aware of his deep scars. Bard wanted to convince him every day that they did not matter to him. But that was difficult when the man could barely look at him.
They only ever spoke a few sentences to each other, but every day he turned his left side away slightly less as he grew more at ease.
Monday morning Bard received a text from an unknown number, he checked to see that the Master was not watching and flicked open the message.
I hope you do not mind that I got your number from my son, but I was hoping that you could drop Legolas home in the evening instead of the afternoon? I know it is terribly impertinent for me to ask. – Thranduil
Bard read the text and saved away Thranduil’s number, it would be good that they could communicate as he picked up Legolas every day, but Bard couldn’t help but hope that maybe, Thranduil had wanted his number so that they could just talk.
Bard gnawed at his lip as he typed out his response, curiosity at what someone who never left the house might be doing finally winning out.
No, it’s no trouble, he’s a great kid. What’re you up to this afternoon then? – B
Bard phrased it casually, as he would with anyone else and slipped his phone into his pocket as he got to work.
It was fifteen minutes later when his phone buzzed again he gave a cursory look for the boss as he always did before opening it up.
The doctor is visiting. I prefer Legolas not to be here when he does. Then I shall have to interview drivers – I cannot continue to take advantage of you for too long – Thranduil
Bard was surprised that Thranduil had told him, although he did not like to think about what a doctor’s visit would entail for someone with such extensive injuries, he could see why he would not want Legolas there.
You know, I can interview the drivers for you if you like? Just send them my way this evening instead – B
Bard was happy to offer, he didn’t like the idea of Thranduil forcing himself into a situation he wasn’t comfortable with any more than he liked the idea of Legolas being alone in a car with a random stranger that hadn’t had a face to face interview.
You are very kind to offer, but I am already taking advantage of you – Thranduil
You can take advantage anytime you like – B
Bard responded before realising the moderate double meaning that could be taken from that statement. His subconscious had apparently written that text.
I couldn’t possibly – Thranduil
Honestly, I do not mind. I assure you I wouldn’t offer if I did – B
He sent, he desperately wanted Thranduil to realise that he wasn’t alone. That he had a friend in Bard, if he wanted one.
If you truly do not mind. I would be immeasurably grateful – Thranduil
I truly do not mind J – B
Bard smiled and followed up the text with his address to send to the candidates before popping his phone back into his pocket, only to have it vibrate a few seconds later.
Thank you J – Thranduil
The grin that covered Bard’s face was a little ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it. Thranduil had sent him a smiley emoji, and it had really made him smile.
That evening, Bard interviewed the perspective drivers with Legolas by his side. Together they had prepared a list of questions to ask them. There were quite a few duds in the pack, that was for sure, Bard was definitely glad they were interviewing them, just in case they were excellent bullshitters over the phone.
Eventually they settled on a friendly man called Arathorn, who was looking for a little part-time job. His own son, Aragorn, went to a neighbouring school, so often they would probably be riding together. Legolas had seen this as a positive and an opportunity to make a new friend – one who had no idea who his father was.
Bard had discovered that Legolas had been a little isolated in the school until Sigrid’s appearance. All the students had been more interested in finding things out about his father than being his real friend. But then Sigrid had turned up and made no mention of Legolas’ father as anything other than his dad.
Arathorn was happy to start the very next day; getting handed Legolas’ schedule, which only really consisted of when he needed to leave home, and which days he came here instead of going straight home. But on those days, Bard would drive him home anyway.
When Bard dropped Legolas home that evening, he gave Arathorn’s details to Thranduil and a run-down of the interviews. Thranduil’s body was barely angled away and he made eye contact occasionally, Bard couldn’t help his smile.
“Thank you so much for doing this.” Thranduil said honestly, before handing Bard an envelope with some money in it.
“Thranduil, it was a favour.” Bard protested, trying to give it back.
“A favour which I should imagine cost you quite a bit in petrol. It is not payment for your help as I know you would not accept it, it is merely the money you spent on petrol ferrying my son around.”
“Thank you.” Bard relented, tucking the money into his pocket. He’d have done it without the money, but he’d be lying if he said hadn’t made the budgeting this month slightly tighter.
“It is me that should be thanking you.” Thranduil replied with complete sincerity. Bard imagined it had probably been a long time since anyone had been close enough to do Thranduil a favour.
“Nah, it’s what friends are for.” Bard smiled, before saying goodnight and heading back to the car.
He could swear he saw the beginnings of a smile on Thranduil’s lips.
-----------------------
Over the next few weeks, Bard and Thranduil texted with increasing frequency. It had started when Bard had texted him during work the day after he had dropped Legolas home and hired Arathorn.
This car is a violent shade of pink. I’m not sure if I want to fix it – B
Bard really hadn’t been expecting a response, but sure enough, not ten minutes later his phone buzzed.
I happen to like the colour pink – Thranduil
Oh god, don’t tell me this is your car – B
Bard had teased back, knowing full well that it belonged to a young lady whose name escapes him, not Thranduil.
Maybe it is, what would you do about it? – Thranduil
Give it an ‘accidental’ paint job? – B
That would be very unprofessional of you – Thranduil
True, I guess I’ll just have to fix it – B
I guess you will. It can’t be that bad – Thranduil
In response Bard sent him a picture of the neon-pink convertible, seriously, it wasn’t even like they had good weather here.
I take it back, that is an offensive shade of pink. The owner should have gone for a softer tone – Thranduil
I’ll be sure to tell her you said so :P – B
Their days became filled with these easy little exchanges about nothing important. With one of them making a comment about something they came across in their day. Thranduil had once been watching the tapes from the academy and given Bard a pretty amusing running commentary of them.
Thranduil had relatively frequent visits from the doctor, usually during school hours, and he had started telling Bard when they were, so that he could take Legolas for a few hours if needed, other than that they never really talked about them, until one day Bard just asked.
Doctor’s go okay? – B
Yes thank you. Everything is as good as can be expected. Is Legolas being good? – Thranduil
Good to hear, and yes, he is always good, he was obviously brought up well J – B
Obviously ;) – Thranduil
They texted like this every day. Bard did not particularly want to think about just how many texts they were probably exchanging every day, but then he was hardly in denial about his affection for the other man, so it didn’t really matter.
But one day, when Bard was driving Legolas home after spending the afternoon with them, he was surprised when the boy started talking about his father.
“You’re friends with my dad, aren’t you?” He had asked somewhat rhetorically.
“I certainly consider him my friend, yes.”
“He likes you too. He’s always smiling when you text him you know.” Legolas told him.
“Well, that is good to hear.” Bard said, unable to keep the soft smile off his lips at hearing it.
“You’re the first friend he has had since the fire.” Legolas said very quietly, Bard did not say anything, sensing that Legolas was not yet done. “I worry about him. Before you, he did not have any friends or anyone accept me. He just locks himself away in the house every day. And I understand, I really do, but I’m worried about him.”
“He’s got me now.” Bard answered, heart clenching at Legolas’ words. “You both do.” Legolas nodded at him, seeming somewhat reassured.
When he walked with Legolas to the door that day, he stayed and spoke to Thranduil for much longer than usual.
Thranduil didn’t turn away from him at all.
-----------------------
Over the next few weeks Bard and Thranduil continued texted, even delving into phone calls occasionally and chatting at Thranduil’s door much longer than they used to before Bard would head back.
With every little thing he found out about the other man Bard found himself desperately wanting to know the rest. Everything, right down to what conditioner he used on his silky hair.
Bard was driving Legolas home as he did every Tuesday evening, knowing the way now almost as easily as he knew the way to his own house. They wandered up to the door as they always did and Legolas knocked and they waited.
But Thranduil didn’t answer the door.
Legolas knocked again, but there was still no answer. Bard knocked loudly, Legolas beside him was getting visibly anxious as he reached into his coat and drew out his phone, quickly punching in his father’s number.
“Ada! Are you okay? Where are you?” Legolas asked, panic clouding his voice a little.
Legolas had the volume in his phone up loud enough that Bard could just make out a weak and raspy voice telling him to use the spare key and that he was okay. Legolas hung up the phone and started wiggling out a loose brick in the garden wall.
“He didn’t sound okay.” Bard pointed out, hearing the worry in his own voice.
“That’s ‘cause he’s not.” Legolas said, jamming the key into the door with a shaky hand and shoving it open.
Bard came in with him as a frantic Legolas threw his bag on the floor.
“Where will he be?”
“I don’t know, hopefully on the sofa or in his room. Can you check upstairs, third door on the left?” Legolas asked, nervousness in his voice as he dashed down the hall.
Bard could feel the rolling in his stomach as he ran up the stairs, worry thick in his veins as he knocked as lightly as he could on the third door. He heard a faint, rasped response and slowly let himself in.
Thranduil was lying in his bed, covered over with light, impossibly soft looking sheets stopping low at his waist, revealing the band of cotton pyjama trousers. He could see the way the violent scars continued down his body, leaving muscles and tendons exposed. He was drenched in sweat and Bard could see the trail of tears that had been falling from his good eye.
“Thranduil?” Bard said, voice tentative but rushing over to his side.
“Bard?” Thranduil flinched, trying to roll his left side away from Bard despite the obvious pain it was causing him.
“Hey, don’t do that.” Bard protested softly, taking hold of Thranduil’s good hand and pressing lightly on his shoulder to encourage him back onto his back, Thranduil rested his body back but he kept his face stoically turned away, eyes shut.
Legolas stumbled into the room and Bard could see him breathe a sigh of relief at the exact same time he tensed up again seeing his father.
“Ada?” He whispered nervously.
“He shouldn’t have to see me like this.” Thranduil rasped, and much to Bard’s surprise, gripped his hand tighter, but still not looking at him.
“He’s okay Legolas.” Bard tried to reassure, Legolas’ eyes flicked down to where Thranduil was gripping onto Bard’s hand before gently nodding his head and retreating out of the room.
“Thank you.” Came Thranduil’s strained voice, Bard noticed a bottle of water on his bedside table and passed it to him, helping him to take a sip.
“What happened? We were so worried.” Bard nudged gently.
“I am sorry I did not mean to scare you.” Thranduil sighed, voice still so weak. “Nothing happened, sometimes it is just too painful to move. Some days it is just worse and I cannot – ” Another tear slipped free of Thranduil’s right eye, and Bard could see him wincing all over, it was tugging at his heart to see him in so much pain.
“We’ve been texting all day, why didn’t you tell me.” Bard asked, running his fingers through the sweaty roots of Thranduil’s hair.
He had been in so much pain all day that he we dripping with sweat. Bard wanted to hold him but he didn’t want to hurt him, and he didn’t know if he was allowed.
“What would you have done if I had told you? It wouldn’t have helped anything.”
“I would have come to check on you, made sure you were alright, got you anything you needed.” Bard replied truthfully.
“You had work.”
“I would have left.” Bard told him simply, it had Thranduil flick his eyes up to his in surprise before averting them again.
“I did not want you to see me like this. I did not want you to think me weak.” Thranduil admitted quietly, face turned away.
“I think you a lot of things, weak is certainly not one of them.” Bard assured, the conviction and honesty in his voice was what finally had Thranduil turning to look at him, an expression full of relief.
“Do you need anything? A fresh glass of water? Anything?” Bard asked gently, still running his fingers through the roots of Thranduil’s hair, it seemed to be soothing him.
“You do not need to fuss.” Thranduil replied, growing ridged and Bard could see him trying to turn away again.
“Hey, we all need a little help sometimes.” Bard comforted, catching his chin carefully and brushing a new tear from his cheek.
“If you could phone my doctor, I would be most grateful.” Came Thranduil’s quiet answer.
Bard picked up Thranduil’s phone and scrolled through its scarce contacts before coming across a Dr. and calling the number.
He explained Thranduil’s condition as best he could, saying that he had been in too much pain to move today and was there anything he could do. The doctor, a man named Elrond, had been surprised to discover that it was not Thranduil or Legolas calling, but with Thranduil’s consent he had spoken to Bard easily.
About half an hour later the doctor arrived and gave Thranduil a quick check up before talking to Bard by the door as he left.
“It is nothing that has not happened before. And he is still clear of any infection, but I have given him a slightly more powerful painkiller to use over the next few days.” He explained.
“Okay.” Bard replied, for lack of anything better to say, he felt utterly useless, unable to ease Thranduil’s pain. And discovering that Thranduil was always in pain, while not surprising, the knowledge was cutting him like a knife.
“I am glad he has finally let someone in, I was growing increasingly concerned.” Elrond commented.
“Is there anything I can do for him?” Bard asked, wanting to know how he could feel a little more useful.
“Honestly, if it is possible, it would be good if you could stay here tonight. He is in a lot of pain, and I think having a friend nearby would help him greatly.” Elrond told him, looking at Bard like he couldn’t quite work out how he had wormed his way into Thranduil’s life, but that he was glad he had.
Elrond left and Bard tapped open his phone, finding Mrs Beeham number.
“Mrs Bee?” Bard greeted.
“Bard dear, what can I do for you?” She responded with the happy voice she always did.
“Could I ask a favour of you?”
“You know you always can.” Came her easy reply.
“Could you watch the kids this evening and make sure they get to bed, then maybe check in on them in the morning? I’ll try to be back to drop Tilda at school.”
“Don’t worry yourself young man, I can take the little one to school in the morning.”
“Thank you Mrs Bee, you’re a lifesaver.”
“I know I know, good luck with whatever it is you’re doing.”
“Thanks.”
Bard hung up and quickly called Sigrid to explain that he wasn’t coming back, while trying not to say too much about what was wrong. Thranduil protected his privacy so carefully that Bard did not want to abuse it. But Sigrid was a clever girl and she knew that he and Thranduil had become friends, even if she still knew very little, she didn’t push for an explanation, just told him that she’d see him tomorrow and goodnight.
He found Legolas next, in his own room, worrying over something non-existent on his shirt.
“How’s my dad?” He asked immediately as Bard entered the room.
“He’s not doing too bad. The doctor gave him some better painkillers.”
“He doesn’t like me seeing him like that.” Legolas admitted, before continuing almost inaudibly. “I don’t like seeing him like that.”
Bard’s heart broke a little at Legolas’ confession, how hard it must be for him to see his dad, who Bard knew was his literal hero, in so much pain and unable to do anything about it. Bard pulled the boy into a tight hug and pretended not to notices the couple of tear that wet his shoulder.
“I have to look after him when this happens, but he doesn’t like letting me.” Bard could sense the guilt waying on the boy, knowing that he didn’t like having to see his father in such discomfort.
“It’s okay. I’m going to stay here tonight so you don’t need to worry about anything, okay?”
“Thank you. I am glad he has you.” Legolas said, releasing the tight hug and heading over to his bed, it was still fairly early, but it had been an exhausting hour.
Bard walked across the hall and over to Thranduil’s room, knocking gently before letting himself in.
Thranduil was resting slightly more easily and breathing less raggedly than when Bard had found him an hour ago, he gave Bard a weak smile with closed eyes as he heard him enter.
Bard sat in the armchair he had pulled up to the bedside and reclaimed Thranduil’s hand as it reached for him minutely, before resuming combing through Thranduil’s long hair.
“You should be getting back. Your kids will be wondering where you are.” Came Thranduil’s reluctant voice.
“My neighbour is watching them tonight. I am going to stay here with you.” Bard explained.
“You don’t have to. I’ll be–”
“I want to.” Bard cut in, squeezing Thranduil’s slender hand, Thranduil squeezed it back.
“Thank you.” He sighed quietly.
“Nothing to thank me for.”
A few minutes later Bard noticed Thranduil wincing slightly as he appeared to be inching himself across the large bed.
“What are you doing?” Bard queried, stopping Thranduil’s movement’s gently with his hands.
“You cannot sleep in that armchair, it will ruin you back. This bad is plenty big enough, but I would rather have you on my right, so that you cannot accidently knock me during the night.” Thranduil clarified, easing Bard’s hand off of him and resuming his small movements.
“I am fine in the chair, especially as moving is causing you pain.” Bard objected.
“The new painkillers are staring to kick in, I am not in as much discomfort as I was.” Thranduil informed, but Bard could tell by the flickers of hurt crossing his face that he wasn’t being entirely honest.
“Thranduil, stop, it is fine. Do not hurt yourself.” Bard implored, halting Thranduil with his hands again.
“I will not have you putting your back out on my behalf.” Thranduil grumped, looking for a second like a petulant child not getting his way, Bard smiled and sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to win.
“Put your arm around my neck.” He instructed, Thranduil gave him a quizzical look. “Just do it.” Bard laughed.
Thranduil complied and Bard very carefully slipped one arm around his back and another under his knees and lifted him, studying Thranduil’s face for any kind of discomfort, but he saw nothing accept a small smile playing on his lips.
Thranduil was surprisingly heavy considering how lithe he was, but maybe not when Bard considered his height. But still, Bard was strong and carried him around the bed easily and smoothly before laying him down on the other side and pulling the covers up to where they had been on his waist.
Bard picked up the blanket strewn over the armchair and climbed onto the empty side of the bed. He lay on his side facing Thranduil, head on his outstretched arm which was once again brushing through the other man’s hair, sending him slowly to sleep.
The last thing Bard saw before he fell asleep himself, was the content smile on Thranduil’s relaxed face. He found himself thinking it was the last image he always wanted to see before falling asleep.
-----------------------
Bard was jolted awake in the small hours of the morning by thrashing and whimpers coming from the body next to him. Bard could see that Thranduil was still asleep, and ever sharp movement cause pain to etch itself across his face.
He was crying out and Bard took his shoulders and tried to wake him. But it was with a sharp jerk and a cry of pain that woke Thranduil as his body shot into a sitting position, shaking violently, drenched in sweat.
“Thranduil, are you okay, what happened?” Bard asked frantically, brushing Thranduil’s hair out of his face and soothing a hand down his cheek. Thranduil held onto his wrist like it was a life line as he expertly calmed his breathing from ragged, shallow pulls of air to deep inhales. This was clearly not the first time he had had to do this.
“I am sorry, I did not mean to wake you.” He said as he regained his composure.
“Stop apologising. Was it a nightmare?” Bard enquired, wanting to know but not wanting to pry.
“Yes. It was the fire – I must sound like a scared child.” Thranduil scolded himself bitterly.
Bard could not bear the thought that Thranduil still had nightmares about the fire, especially knowing that other than his son, who had been ten at the time, he had been completely alone in trying to cope.
“Of course you don’t. You lived through something horrific, no one would ever belittle you for still feeling the effects.” Bard assured, finding Thranduil’s hand and holding it in his own.
“I suppose you guessed that that was how I got my scars.” Thranduil stated, Bard nodded.
“You don’t have to tell me.” Bard told him, as Thranduil looked like he was struggling to find the words, the correct phrasing.
“I want to.” Thranduil smiled at him sadly. “The fire was tearing through the building, I was outside safely. But I remember a group of pupils who had been practicing their final routine late into the night most nights. The firemen were busy with the main part of the school, they said they would get to them. But I was worried they were going to be too late and I could not see the students I feared were in there anywhere.
“When they were not looking I ran back into the school. The building was coming down around me, I can still remember the heat. Sure enough the four of them were in the room, three them passed out because of the smoke the other conscious but only barely. I had to make two trips, I could not carry more than two and Georgia was in no state to help, she could only just walk herself.
“When I went back for Rhys, a firefighter saw me going back in and came after me, I was struggling to breathe so they took Rhys easily and carried him out, I was just behind, but a burning beam fell and knocked me down. I could feel myself catch fire. I remember what it felt like, I can feel it every time I go to sleep and ghosts of it every day in my scars.
“I guess it was my fault. But I do not regret it. I only regret how hard it was for Legolas that year. I could not leave the hospital, not even the bed, and I made sure no one knew where I was or who I was. I could not bear to look at myself. I should have died. Everyone likes to tell you how lucky you are when you should have died. Even though you are clearly not lucky at all.
“It was a full year before I was allowed home. We moved out here I have not left the house since. I cannot drive and I do not like the way people stare. I cannot stand the wretched way I look and I hate that I have let it turn me into a lonely recluse.” Thranduil finished bitterly, face and voice cold. Bard’s hand was gripping his tightly, unable to express how very sorry he was.
“I think you are beautiful.” Is what left his lips, and it is what broke Thranduil’s icy mask and had him slumping against Bard, crying in his arms.
Bard settled them back down on the bed and held Thranduil close to his chest as he wept, murmuring and soothing him back to sleep, careful not to aggravate his injuries.
-----------------------
Things changed a little after that, when Thranduil was able to move around again a couple of days later he let Legolas invite Sigrid over to theirs after school instead of the other way around. Legolas had looked so happy when he told Bard his heart had swelled in his chest.
On the days when Bard dropped Legolas home, he would normally come into the house and spend an hour or so with Thranduil before heading home.
Thranduil had shown him the grounds to his house, taking him out through the trees and to a little clearing and pool where deer and other animals were. They took no notice of them, clearly Thranduil spent enough time out here not to be perceived as a threat.
A few weeks had passed and Bard was leaning against the doorframe of Thranduil’s large house, ready to go home after dropping Legolas back.
“You know, I’d love to have you over for dinner sometime. I know Legolas and Sigrid talk about it, we could have a cook off.” Bard grinned as Sigrid had been raving about Thranduil’s cooking for the past two weeks.
“I don’t know.” Thranduil responded hesitantly.
“No pressure.” Bard smiled. “I can come pick you up if you fancy it. Although I do warn you, my youngest will probably be obsessed with you hair. You can stay as long or a little as you like.”
Surprisingly, Thranduil nodded very slowly.
“Yes, I think I would like that.” Thranduil had answered, smiling at Bard.
Bard would be lying if he said he didn’t have a bounce in his step for the next couple of days.
Having Thranduil visiting for dinner made Bard realise, as their children charged around the house and argued over the sauce, that he wanted this to be every day, and from the look on Thranduil’s face, so did he.
After that, Bard managed to convince Thranduil to come out with him on the weekend, to get out of the house. Thranduil was hesitant but agreed, and when Bard held his hand as they walked through the park, Bard knew the private little smile on Thranduil’s lips was just for him.
Thranduil would go out with Bard twice a week, each time less nervous about people seeing him. Within a month, Arathorn was driving Thranduil around as well, taking him to run errands, go shopping and just living.
He let Bard take him dancing, well, under the starlight in his grounds, but he was still dancing.
But he would not yet go back to the academy, and Bard knew not to push. Thranduil had made massive steps, still horribly aware of his scars, but not letting them dictate his life anymore.
They had dinners together with all their children most days, sometimes spending the entire weekend together. They didn’t talk about what it meant that Thranduil stayed in Bard’s bed with him. Or the fact that he didn’t have nightmares if Bard held him while he slept.
It was the sight of Thranduil tying Tilda’s hair into a pretty plait as she beamed at Bard that made him realise that he loved Thranduil. That he had for a while, that he wanted to tell him.
He didn’t want to wait anymore, he wanted to kiss him.
And when he drove Thranduil and Legolas home, he did.
On Thranduil’s front porch, Bard pressed a kiss onto Thranduil’s lips, light but sure. And Thranduil pressed back, releasing an almost inaudible whimper before pulling away and looking at the floor. Bard smiled and carefully took Thranduil’s chin in his hand.
“I will see you tomorrow.” Bard stated, before pressing a kiss to Thranduil’s cheek and heading home.
But he did not see him the next day.
Thranduil sent him a text saying he would not be able to come to dinner this evening. Which would be fine (if disappointing) but then he stopped replying to Bard’s texts entirely.
Bard panicked, shooting off a text to Legolas and asking him if his dad was okay this morning.
Yeah, he was fine. Why? – Leg
Can you just give him a quick call and check on him? – B
A couple of minutes passed before Legolas texted him again, saying that he seemed fine. Bard shoved his phone in his pocket and tried not to worry. What had happened?
The next time he was Thranduil was when he was dropping Legolas home a few days later, but Thranduil just thanks him, smiled sadly, turning his left away in a way that he hadn’t done for months and closed the door without conversation. It felt like a knife twisting in Bard’s heart.
Bard didn’t understand what had happened.
Oh god, what if Thranduil didn’t feel the same way and had felt ambushed by the kiss. What if he’s completely screwed this up. He was so sure Thranduil had felt the same, had wanted it. But what if he had been wrong. He couldn’t lose Thranduil, he couldn’t lose his friend like that.
He’s been so sure.
He was so stupid.
Bard was fretting over what he should do, paying no attention to the car he was supposed to be fixing when his phone started vibrating in his pocket. He didn’t bother checking for the Master before he answered it.
“Hello? Legolas?”
“Bard?”
“What is it?”
“It’s my dad, I don’t know what’s happened, but since Sunday he’s been sad. And you don’t see him anymore. What’s happened? Whatever he did he didn’t mean it.”
“Legolas I think I was me. I think I messed it up.”
“No you couldn’t have. He lo– you just couldn’t have. Please fix it. He’s barely stopped crying in three days, I don’t understand.” Legolas begged down the phone, and something in Bard snapped.
He was going to try to talk to Thranduil the next time he saw him, try to find out what had happened. He hadn’t wanted to push him, didn’t want him to feel cornered if he didn’t feel the same. He had been trying to be good, give him space, even though he had wanted nothing more than to go to him.
But being told that he had been crying. He couldn’t stop himself as he ran straight out of the garage and into his own car, shouting at Percy to cover for him if he could, driving away before he got a response.
God, what if he had done this, what if this was his fault? He couldn’t hurt Thranduil like this, he just couldn’t.
Bard knocked on the door and Legolas answered it, looking relieved and taking in his appearance, frantic, panting and covered in grease before pointing upstairs, indicating that Thranduil was in his bedroom, before heading out into the vast gardens, clearly not wanting to intrude.
He knocked on Thranduil’s bedroom door and he heard Thranduil tell him to come in, clearly expecting Legolas.
Thranduil jerked in surprise when Bard came into the room, breathing as if he had run here. Thranduil recoiled away from him, facing away and trying to hide his scars. Bard wanted to kiss him and tell him that he was beautiful and that he didn’t need to hide. But he didn’t think he was allowed.
“Thranduil what happened? What did I do wrong, please tell me. Please let me fix it.” Bard all but begged, moving across the room and feeling the knife in his heart twist at the dark shadow under one of Thranduil’s eyes and the tell-tale redness of tears.
“You didn’t do anything.” Thranduil replied, voice filled with sadness as he refused to make eye contact.
“Should I not have kissed you? I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I’m so sorry, but please don’t push me away as your friend, even though you don’t feel –”
“I feel.” Thranduil cut in quietly, finally meeting Bard’s eyes. “I feel things for you that I was sure had been burnt out of me for good. Things that I never thought I would feel again. I love you. And that terrifies me.”
“I’m scared too.” Bard practically whispered into the silence of the room.
“But not in the same way.” Thranduil protested, surprisingly loudly, almost a shout. But it was still tangled with that sadness that did not seem to want to leave his voice.
“Then explain it to me, please, help me to understand.” Bard desperately wanted to reach for his hand and hold in his own.
“I am broken Bard. I will never be what you deserve. I am scarred, I am damaged goods, and I am more trouble than I am worth. I am ugly. You deserve so much more than the burned out shell of who someone used to be.” Thranduil chocked out, voice breaking as he began to cry again.
Bard lunged forward and held Thranduil in his arms as he began to crumple to the floor, holding him as tight as he could without hurting him, burying his own tears in Thranduil’s silver hair and the other man shook in his arms.
“You are not broken, or damaged goods or more trouble than you are worth because you are worth the entire world. We all carry scars, but yours, yours are a testament to how brave you are, to the four lives you saved. People are alive, you are a hero. That is what your scars mean. Not that you are damaged, or somehow less, but that you are more. So much more than any of us deserve.
“You are not a shell, you are a fighter, and so full of life. You are as full and rich as your laugh. You are like music to me, playing a song that I never want to get out of my head. Yes, you are scarred, and yet you are absolutely beautiful, you are the most beautiful person I have ever met, and I am completely in love with you so I am begging you not to push me away.” Bard cried into Thranduil’s hair.
“I am scared.” Came Thranduil’s shaky voice.
“I know, but you don’t have to be scared with me, you know that I would never hurt you. I couldn’t.”
“I know.”
Thranduil lifted his head and sealed his lips over Bard’s hanging onto Bard’s greasy shirt like a life line. They kissed deep and hard, Bard’s tongue delving into Thranduil’s mouth and tasting the other man’s tongue.
Thranduil whimpered when Bard bit down lightly on his lower lip, but it was not in pain, quite the opposite in fact. Bard left Thranduil’s mouth and started sucking in marks of his own onto Thranduil’s neck as Thranduil tipped his head back and bared it to Bard further, making Bard growl low in his throat.
“I love you so much.” Bard murmured into the pale column of Thranduil’s throat.
“I love you too. Since the beginning I think. Right from the start.” Thranduil gasped as Bard bit down lightly.
“Yeah, right from the start.” Bard agreed, kissing at Thranduil’s mouth again.
Bard manoeuvred them onto Thranduil’s big bed, setting Thranduil down reverently and going to strip off Thranduil’s shirt, but Thranduil’s hands stopped him.
“Is this okay?” Bard checked, resuming kissing at Thranduil’s neck.
“Yes. I just. I don’t want you to see.”
“I have seen them before.” Bard answered gently, think of the nights spent together, Thranduil never liked wearing bed shirts.
“I know, but not exactly in this context.” Thranduil replied, but he inched the hem of his shirt up slightly.
Bard kissed down on the toned, exposed streak of white stomach, pushing the shirt up slightly and ever so gently ghosting kissing over the scarred flesh. It wasn’t quite as bad or deep and the scars on his face, but the skin was still an angry, mottled red with some flashes of muscle.
“You will tell me if anything hurts.” Bard instructed, and Thranduil met his eyes with a nervous nod.
Bard very carefully brushed his lips along the scars on his left, they were mainly between his front and his back, but some of them stretched onto his chest. Bard kissed down his arm, red and torn with the old burn, down to his scarred hand.
He pressed a light kiss to Thranduil’s red hip before starting to ease his loose trousers down his hips.
“Is this okay?” He whispered up to Thranduil, who nodded at him quickly, biting on his lip as he looked down at Bard.
Bard pulled the trousers down and off. Thranduil’s left leg was not as badly burnt as the rest of his left side, but the worst of it was around his knee. Bard traced his lips all the way down his long leg, before lifting up carefully and kissing the back of his knee, then resuming his path of kisses up the inside of Thranduil’s thigh.
Bard carefully slipped Thranduil’s boxer-briefs down his legs and onto the floor before returning to kissing at the inside of Thranduil’s thigh.
Thranduil’s cock was hard and long against his stomach and he whined as Bard kissed his way up t’s length, open mouthed and wet, and took the tip into his mouth and suckled on it. Bard let his tongue run along the slit and teased at the flared head before taking in as much of Thranduil’s length as he could, getting another moan out of Thranduil’s parted lips.
He drew back and licked at the shaft of Thranduil’s cock before taking him back down and wrapping his hand around what he couldn’t fit in his mouth. Thranduil cried out beneath him, bucking his hips helplessly as bard pinned his arm across them carefully.
Bard bobbed his head, sucking hard as he came up, moving his hand in tandem and tracing his tongue up the underside before dragging his lips and tongue across the head and going down again. Thranduil was writhing underneath him, falling apart quickly under his mouth.
Thranduil’s little aborted hip thrusts were becoming more erratic, and as Bard sucked on the head of his cock as he moved his hand back, brushing past Thranduil’s ball to toy at his hole, he came hard down Bard’s throat with a strangled cry of Bard’s name.
Bard swallowed down Thranduil’s release, gently kissing his way back up his flushed body. Thranduil spread out, panting, flushed and relaxed post-orgasm was probably one of the best sights Bard had ever seen. He intended to see it again and again.
Bard kiss Thranduil’s red, loose mouth that kissed him back lazily, tongue stroking into Bard’s mouth as if he was trying to taste himself as Bard pulled his neglected dick out from his trousers and worked himself towards a quick but intense finish.
Thranduil’s hand joining his own pushed him over the edge and he came between them, collapsing so that he was slightly draped across Thranduil’s right side. He was enjoying his post-coital haze when a disgruntled voice came from next to him.
“I wanted to do that.”
Bard burst into happy laughter and leaned up to cover Thranduil’s face in kisses, until Thranduil bit at his lip to keep him on his own lips.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get plenty of chances.”
-----------------------
It was a month after officially getting together, January term was starting. Their households had already basically merged, spending most time all piled into Bard’s little house. They were planning on moving into Thranduil’s big house in a couple of months. There was plenty of rooms and Thranduil was loathe to give up his grounds, besides, it was beautiful, Bard would be silly not to want to live there.
Thranduil was holding onto Bard’s hand tight as unbeknownst to almost everyone in the large hall of the Greenwood Academy of Dance as one of the teachers (the same teacher who had snuck them in) gave a speech.
“Nervous?” Bard asked.
“Petrified.” Thranduil responded.
The students in the hall didn’t know that Thranduil was backstage, about to head onto the stage and announce his return to the academy, not even their own kids knew.
“Sigrid and Legolas are in there somewhere, you find them and you look at how happy they’re going to be when they see you.”
Thranduil nodded and Bard pulled him into a deep kiss before he headed out onto the stage.
Bard could hear the pin-drop silence as Thranduil walked out, followed by a couple of gasps as people either recognised him or saw the scars, but that was to be expected.
Bard listened, a happy smile on his face as Thranduil made his speech. Laughing with the rest of the audience when he teased the students that would be in his classes, informing them that he was a hard-ass and knew exactly what everyone in the room as capable of and would be accepting nothing less than their best.
“Are you back, like for good?” Came a voice from the audience, Bard was surprised to hear that the voice sounded as though he was about to cry, but it did not belong to Legolas.
“Yes Rhys, I am.” Thranduil said and Bard could hear the smile in his voice just as he recognised the name from Thranduil’s recount of the fire.
The entire hall erupted into shouts and applause, cheering Thranduil’s name.
Thranduil looked to the side and caught Bard’s eye, the smile on his face was not one Bard was ever going to forget.