It was more then a few days until Bard was able to sleep properly, and even more for him to gather up the strength to walk more then five feet away from his house.
However, on the fifth day of isolation from the town, Bard realized that there were other things that needed tending to, and decided that it was time to get out and face things head-on.
So after putting Sigrid in charge of the house, he headed out the door, feeling a cool breeze fly past him.
Fall was on it's way.
His thoughts went back to his last conversation with Angeli.
I love you...too much to let you get caught in the middle of all this.
He had told her his feelings as well...to a certain extent.
Why couldn't he have just said "I love you too," and left it like that?
"I'm too stubborn," he muttered as he recalled his real words.
If you really loved me, you would know that I love you too, and we could have talked about this.
He heaved and exasperated sigh and narrowly avoided banging his head against the wall of a house.
Now leave.
Angeli was probably in Lothlorien right now, hating him because she thought he hated her now.
"Wherever is your wife, Bard?" An annoyingly familiar voice asked from behind Bard.
"She has been dead for several years, Alfrid," Bard replied in a bored manner, not turning around or breaking his stride.
"I believe you attended her funeral."
"Yes," Alfrid replied in an amused tone. "Your crying was like that of your youngest." His tone became sincere again.
"But that is not one I am talking about. I am talking about the mysterious blonde haired she-elf that has been seen around your house. She is your wife, is she not?"
Bard didn't know how the Master Of Lake-Town endured his annoying assistant, but he was not having it.
"She is not my wife," he replied bitterly. "And she never will be, for she has gone back to her homeland."
Alfrid stopped following him.
"What a shame," he called. "I was hoping you two would get married and you could leave and life in the bushes she calls home!"
Bard kept walking, never looking back.