Prologue
Bard tried to make Tildas birthday as happy as he could, but it was always a bittersweet occasion. He never resented Tilda for her birth; he couldn't. Even as a baby, Tilda enchanted him with her smile, and laughter. However, the day would always stir up a somber feeling in him.
They would usually spend the day at they're mothers lone gravesite. A single large stone marked her resting place on top of a hill, underneath a large pine tree. It was a long walk even with horses, but they did it every year. The family left Dale early in the morning and stopped only to have lunch on a rock peak overlooking the remainder of Lake Town.
Only 3 years had passed since Smaug the Dragon was slain, and since Thorin Oakenshield became King under the Mountain, but much had changed. Bard became the Lord of Dale, and now had more responsibility for the town and it's dealings. Sigrid had become the Lady of Dale and had been fighting off marriage proposals since her eighteenth birthday, and on top of that studying Elvish medicine with Tauriel (fiancé to a certain dwarvish prince). Bain was causing more trouble than expected at 16, and Tilda was attending school within Dale.
They moved into a bigger house and ate well every night; this change was mostly welcome. What wasn't so welcome was all of the attention. Not that is was so different for Bard, but Sigrid would cut all of her hair off if only it would make everyone in a tavern not turn and stare at her for a solid ten seconds.
Looking at the destroyed town made them nostalgic and a little proud of Bard.
The sight only made Bard's stomach roll and gave him mild anxiety.
They'd eat lunch, and after they'd have cake and Tilda would blow out a single candle. And continue to hike down the rocky path of the small mountain, at sunset they'd finally arrive.
It was a short visit, but still just as worth it. Tilda wrote a letter and placed it against the smooth stone, and Bard would light a few candles and place them at the base of the stone, illuminating the carving of a rose in the smooth black rock.
They'd make a camp and lay under the stars, Bard would tell them stories of their mother, and lots of laughs would ring out.
Tilda's Birthday was always a pleasant but melancholy day for herself, and her family.
But her birthdate was for some reason an unlucky date…