Bard had barely noticed that someone had moved into the apartment next to his for the first week, too busy trying to take care of his daughter and wife. In fact, it wasn't until week two when Bard had finally got his wife into bed and his daughter into her crib that he was actually able to sit down and try to relax himself. Sigrid was only three weeks old and seemed to cry every time he sat her down, but now the house was quiet and he could work his crossword puzzle.
That's when he first heard it, a muffled crying as he set pen to paper that made his Q turn into an ugly ink blot. His first thought was that the noise was coming to his daughter and was already halfway to the nursery when he realized the sound wasn't right. Sigrid's cries were high and shrill, but this was deeper and sounded more like a grown man's. He tried to ignore it at first, going back to his chair and curling up in it with a mind to finish the crossword despite the ruined square.
The crying grew slightly louder, joined by the cry of a small child.
"It's not my problem," Bard mumbles under his breath. His wife and child were safe and sleeping peacefully, so it wasn't up to him to help some neighbor he didn't even know. And he was quite content to ignore it until he realized that his daughter wouldn't be sleeping at all if the crying got any louder. "Damn it."
Lips pressed together tightly, he pulls on his threadbare robe and slippers before leaving his apartment and heading the one next to his. He knocks softly despite his frustration, knowing any loud noise would just make things worse. The door of the apartment swings open, revealing a tall and thin man with a tiny infant in his arms. Now, Bard had seen a lot of new parents during the first year of raising their child, they were always sleep-deprived and just a little too ready to hand their child over to the closest relative so they could have just ten minutes of restful sleep.
This guy, on the other hand, was drop-dead gorgeous. If Bard had been single and the man in front of him looked a little less crazed, he'd probably invite him over for some flirting and tea. The neighbor was at a few inches over six feet and dressed in a suit that looked to be tailor made to fit his thin yet muscular form, though it didn't look nearly so impressive with baby drool on the shoulder. He also had sharp, high features, blonde hair that feel straight past his shoulders, and a pair of pale blue eyes that looked like something out of a fantasy movie.
Bard didn't wait for an invitation, taking the screaming baby out of the man's arms and shouldering his way inside the apartment. "What—"
"Sh," Bard says sharply. The mad just looks at him like he's completely bonkers, which isn't too far off the mark, but he snaps his mouth closed all the same and watches with wide-eyed fascination as Bard gets the little one to calm down after just a few seconds of bouncing.
"How'd you do that?"
"Children smell fear, so just…. Learn how to relax." He shrugs, patting the baby's bottom rhythmically.
"Easy for you to say, you haven't listened to him crying for the past seven hours."
"Is that all? My daughter's been crying for almost three weeks." The other man frowns, stepping closer to see the baby. The baby is a boy with the pale blonde hair of his father, ruffled from sleep and pointing in every direction. "I'm Bard, by the way, Bard Bowman. I live next door to you."
"Thranduil Oropherion, and my son is Legolas."
"Well, Thranduil, feel free to ask for help whenever you need it. I'm sure my little Sigrid will have me awake anyway."