"Are we all ready now?!" Bard asked for what felt like the thousandth time.
Honestly, why was it that children seemed to find it such a difficult task to be ready at a specific time? It's not like they hadn't had notice, after all! He'd told them twice the night before that he wanted to leave no later than half past twelve; he'd even set alarms for Sigrid and Bain. And, this morning, he'd woken Tilda up three times only to hear her little bunny-slippered feet padding their way back into bed again. Bard reminded himself to take note: never ask them to do anything on a Saturday morning.
"Hang on, Da!" was the answering call, "Just one second! I need-"
"Nope! No more seconds. You've had too many as it is. Everybody out!" Bard found himself shepherding his brood out of the door; Bain still trying his shoes, Sigrid with mascara on one eye and having to physically carry Tilda, who was entirely invested in piling all the biscuits in the jar on top of each other as neatly as possible.
Once he had his tribe firmly strapped into the car, noticing Tilda appeared to have crammed some of her tower into her mouth and was trying to chew inconspicuously, he took the wheel and breathed out slowly. Please, please be on your best behaviour while we're there, he pleaded internally.
Pulling the car out of the driveway and trying to maintain his optimism, Bard began his journey to Mirkwood Manor.
As he passed the boundaries of the land surrounding the manor, Bard watched his children's reactions and was pleased to see that they were very similar to his own when Feren had driven him. The beautiful forestry and golden leaves that carpeted its floor, the canopy of green leaves that remained and the way the sunlight streamed through them, he saw it all dancing in their eyes as they desperately tried to take it all in.
"Well you lot, what do you think?" he asked, knowing full well the answer.
"Wow!" Sigrid beamed.
"Da! This place is amazing!" Bain exclaimed.
"Da, are we in a fairytale?" Tilda asked.
I know how you feel, Bard thought to himself, just wait till you see the rest.
He remembered how vast the estate was when he had to endure ten more minutes of a very loud, very excited Tilda before finally hearing the quartz on the drive crunching beneath his tyres. The children's astonishment was audible as they took in the magnificent house.
"We *are* in a fairytale!" Tilda cheered.
As if aware that his appearance would only heightens the children's disbelief, Galion appeared at the doors and waited patiently for the guests to exit the car. He smiled as Bard ushered his children up the steps towards him and, as they approached, he bowed his head respectfully.
"Mr Bowman, how good to see you again," he smiled, "And these must be your children, sir?"
"Please, Galion, call me Bard," he shook his head at his insistent formality, "And it's good to see you too. Here, let me introduce you," he brought his children forward, who were looking a little nervous, "This is Sigrid, my eldest. She's seventeen,"
Sigrid smiled and waved a little.
"And this is my son, Bain. He's fourteen,"
Bain gave a half smile and quietly muttered "Hi,"
"And this little lady is Tilda. She's eight,"
Tilda darted forward from under Bard's arm and, staring up at Galion with large, somewhat disconcerting eyes, said,
"Are you the prince who lives in the castle?"
Galion, ever one to maintain meticulous professionalism, stifled the bellow of laughter that was threatening to burst out. He did, however, allow himself an amused smile.
"I'm afraid not, Miss," he smiled, "But I'll let you into a secret," he cupped his hand over one side of his mouth dramatically, "I do actually run the place, no matter what anyone else says,"
Bard chuckled, pleasantly surprised to see this humourous side to Galion.
"Sir," the humourous countenance was immediately papered over with professionalism as he addressed Bard, "If you'd like to follow me, I believe Mr Oropherion is waiting for you in the Summer Room,"
Having no idea what on earth a "Summer Room" was, and certainly not wanting to wait to find out, Bard guided his children into the manor.
Galion led them on one of the many paths through the manor that Bard had never seen. They seemed to be going directly through the house. They were approaching a door next to a small staircase but, before Galion could reach it to knock, it was opened.
Out strode their host, a joyful smile on his face. He was, as ever, impeccably dressed; wearing a white button down shirt with the first two open, a pair of fitted blue jeans and casual grey shoes. His hair was once again down - Bard caught himself thinking of how he had missed seeing it loose - and, as he reached them, he grasped Bard's hand firmly in his own.
"Bard! Welcome back to my home. I hope you found your way easily enough? I admit, I was worried for a while," he greeted fondly.
"It's good to be back," Bard smiled in return, "and, please, don't worry about me. It was surprisingly easy to navigate your ridiculously large grounds,"
Thranduil laughed at his teasing before turning his attention to his new guests.
"How rude of me," he said, "I haven't welcomed my other charming guests! Now let me get this right… you must be Sigrid?" he smiled warmly.
A little struck by her surrounding and certainly not expecting their host to look as he did, she cleared her throat before answering,
"Yes, that's me," she smiled, "Nice to meet you, sir,"
"Oh, please, don't call me 'sir'," he shook his head at the formality, "My name is Thranduil, and it's a pleasure to meet you, young lady,"
Sigrid nodded in return, clearly impressed by his manners and openness.
"And, of course, you must be Bain," Thranduil moved on, "It's good to meet you. Please make yourself at home here,"
"T-thank you, sir- I mean, Thranduil," Bain smiled, evidently a little nervous but relaxing as he was made welcome.
"And you," Thranduil knelt so that he was eye level with her, "must be the famous Tilda,"
"Wow! Your hair is so pretty!" Tilda gasped.
Oh god!, thought Bard, struggling to contain his embarrassment, why? Why?!
Thranduil, however, laughed heartily and gave her a beaming smile,
"Thank you very much," he replied, chuckling, "but it is certainly not as lovely as yours! Now, your father tells me that you are wonderful at glitter crafts. Perhaps we can find some for you to do here?"
It could not be possible for Tilda to be more delighted with this. She jumped up and down, excitedly squealing her thanks, and Bard, who watched the exchange with a warmth spreading through his heart, was almost certain he had been replaced as Tilda's favourite person.
Once Tilda had ceased bouncing, and everyone's coats had been taken by Galion, Thranduil invited them to accompany him to the gardens. They walked through the Summer Room - which, as it turned out, was called this because it got the best sunlight in summertime - and out it's large french doors onto a stunning and expansive lawn. The grass was beautifully kempt and was skirted on one side but towering oak trees. It extended out for yards and yards from the manor and ended at a high brick wall with a wrought iron gate in its centre. On the right hand side of the lawn, there was the trimmed hedges of a vast maze and a paved lane that ran along the side of the manor. In the centre of the lawn there was a magnificent fountain carved in white marble in the shape of a stag.
Thranduil guided them over to the oak trees, where they found that he had prepared a spectacular picnic for them. An elegant patio table was adorned with baskets and plates of delicious-looking food. It sat directly in the shade of the lowest branches of one of the trees, which was very much appreciated because, though it was Autumn, it was a gloriously sunny day.
As they sat down at the table, Thranduil called out,
"Legolas! Come here!"
A few moments later, from among the trees, strode a young man who was unmistakably his father's son. Bard found the boy's resemblance to Thranduil incredibly striking, from the same long platinum hair to the way he walked. Though, as he drew closer, Bard noticed that he had much softer facial features; fuller cheeks, more curved lips and a rounder jawline. Bard assumed they were inherited from his late mother.
"Sorry, Dad, I had to go and help Elros. One of the fawn's got caught in some bushes,"
He wasn't sure why, but Bard found himself extremely pleased to hear Legolas call Thranduil "Dad" and not "Father". Perhaps their relationship was as close as his with his own children, Bard smiled at the thought.
"Well done, son. Let me know if Elros needs any help with the elk later and I'll handle it," Thranduil smiled, "Bard, please let me introduce my son, Legolas,"
"Hello Legolas," Bard greeted, smiling and reaching to shake the young man's hand, "It's good to meet you. I've heard so much about you,"
"It's nice to meet you too, Mr Bowman," Legolas smiled in return, not quite so shy as his own children has been during introductions, "My dad's told me what an amazing artist you are,"
Bard blushed a little at that. A compliment was one thing but it was quite another for Thranduil to have complimented him to his child.
"Thank you. That's very kind," he smiled, not sure whether to contradict him with his own feelings on the matter, "I remember your father telling me that you're a skilled archer. You're the captain of your school's team?"
Legolas smiled proudly but was not boastful in his reply,
"I'm not bad. Tauriel's more than a match for me. She's in the archery club too,"
"Wow! You get to do archery at your school?" Bain's attention had been thoroughly grabbed, and he was looking at Legolas with a mixture of awe and excitement.
"Oh, sorry!" said Bard, remembering his manners, "Legolas, these are my children, Sigrid, Bain and Tilda,"
"Hey," Legolas smiled, sitting down at the table with them. He sat across from Bain, saying, "Yeah, we compete against each other a lot. If you like you could come and have a go after lunch? I've set up a range out at the stables,"
"Seriously?" Bain grinned, "Cool!"
"Mind if I tag along?" asked Sigrid, "Someone needs to make sure he doesn't shoot himself in the foot,"
"Sure," Legolas flashed her a smile, "I'll bring an extra quiver,"
Bain glared at Sigrid but Bard couldn't help but chuckle. She was probably right. Bain was extremely adventurous but a tad accident prone. Still, he felt the need to remind them that they were not in private.
"Alright, you two," he said, "you can go and best each other on the range later but first, I think, lunch,"
Their sibling rivalry instantly abated by the promise of food, the party settled into a relaxed, comfortable and very enjoyable picnic.
When they had all eaten their fill and thanked their host for his hospitality - who simply lamented, with a sly look at Bard, that he had no hot chocolate to serve them - Sigrid, Bain and Legolas took off across the lawn towards the stables, leaving Bard and Thranduil alone with Tilda. She had spotted some beautiful white flowers and asked if she could pick some. Thranduil smiled at her and told her that the flowers were there for her to enjoy and she could pick as many as she wished. Excitedly she skipped off towards them.
"You have three wonderful children, Bard," Thranduil said after a moment of quiet, "You must be very proud,"
"Thank you, I am," Bard grinned, always happy to hear his children praised yet, somehow, caring more than usual about Thranduil's approval, "You're son is a very fine young man. He seems to take after you a lot,"
Thranduil raised his eyebrow at Bard and smiled,
"Really? Well, perhaps we do look rather alike," he chuckled, "but I always see so much of his mother in him. He's very gentle, my son, but he's strong. After his mother died, I thought he would fall to pieces and I would be too distraught to put him back together but, as you can see, he proved me very wrong…" he tailed off, seeming deep in thought but allowing a smile to ghost across his face.
"Perhaps those traits were inherited from both of you, then," Bard looked at him, "I think, perhaps, that you're so perceptive of others that you're blind to yourself. Think about it - you've been Legolas' only source of inspiration and his role model ever since he was very young. He wouldn't be the kind and very pleasant young man he is today without taking guidance from you,"
Thranduil looked at him with wide, surprised eyes, his lips slightly parted. What he felt was a confusing mixture of astonishment, shock and, he noted, no small amount of pleasure. While he would normally quite sure that Bard was exaggerating his virtues, he had come to know Bard as a man who spoke openly from the heart and whom he could always trust was being truthful. That being said, he was entirely unprepared to accept such a vision of himself, after all he knew himself rather well and would require many hands to could his flaws. But knowing that that was Bard's genuine opinion of him, he allowed himself to feel both pride and, he was a little horrified to notice, bashfulness.
"Bard, I-" he began, intending to tell him of his own admiration, to list to him everything that made him grateful for their friendship, for that chance meeting in the gallery, for every opportunity to grow closer to him, but he was interrupted by laughter and footsteps on grass.
"Da! Da, look what I made!"
Tilda was rushing across the lawn towards them in a shower of white and pink petals. As she reached them, she waved her creations at him for inspection. She had woven together, a little haphazardly, two flower crowns.
"Wow! Those are lovely, sweetheart!," Bard ruffled her hair as she placed the crown on his head, "For me? Well, um, thank you very much, darlin',"
"Very fetching," Thranduil chuckled as he took in Bard's new accessory.
"This ones for you!" Tilda jumped up, trying to reach Thranduil's head to give him the second crown. He bowed his head to help her.
"Well, Tilda, what do you think?" he smiled, adjusting it on his head.
"Pretty!" she giggled, jumping on the spot, "Sorry, Da, but I gave the nicest one to Thranduil. It has the nice pink flowers in it!"
As Bard dramatically feigned shock and horror at not being given the prettiest crown, Thranduil slipped a pink blossom from his own and tucked it into Tilda's hair behind her ear.
"There, that's better. It seems a shame that you made us such beautiful crowns and didn't save any for yourself," he smiled indulgently at her.
Tilda cheered and skipped off back across the grass.
"She's a very sweet little girl," Thranduil told Bard as they watched her retreat.
"Well, I'm glad you think so," Bard laughed, "because she seems to have found her new best friend!"
Thranduil laughed at that, his hair shaking about his shoulders.
"Well, I can't help it if my hair is 'pretty',"
Bard made no comment aloud but couldn't help silently agreeing with his daughter. Thranduil's hair was very appealing.
They enjoyed a few more hours of relaxed, happy conversation before Bard noticed that it was getting rather late to be staying any longer. Sigrid and Bain had recently returned, excitedly chattering about their new-found love of archery and how much they had enjoyed their time with Legolas. They informed them that he had had to help out at the stables for a little while but that he'd invited them back soon to go riding. Apparently they had struck up quite a friendship.
Bard regretfully informed them that it was time to leave, and, when he had finally managed to drag his brood into their waiting car, Thranduil asked him to wait a moment.
"Bard," he said, standing with him at some distance from the car in relative privacy, "I was wondering if you had time to spare tomorrow night? I have a small surprise I would like to show you,"
Bard blinked.
"A surprise? For me? What for?" he asked, a little taken aback.
"Nothing too extravagant, don't worry," Thranduil smiled fondly at him, "Just something that I think might interest you, certainly in a professional capacity. If it would be acceptable to you, could I collect you at your home at seven tomorrow night?"
"Sure…" Bard agreed, unsure what this 'interesting' surprise could be. It must have something to do with art, if Thranduil thought it would appeal to him professionally - despite his constant insistence that he was not a professional artist, he might add, "That would be lovely. It's just me and Sigrid tomorrow night, anyway, and she can definitely look after herself for a few hours,"
"Excellent," Thranduil grinned, "Well, I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Oh! I almost forgot," he reached out and placed a tiny folded bundle into Bard's pocket, "There,"
Bard shook his head, smiling at Thranduil's idiosyncrasies. This was the second time that he had been handed paper on his exit from the manor.
"Thranduil, thank you for such a wonderful day. I haven't seen the kids so happy in a long time and I had such a great time myself. Thank you for that,"
"It was truly my pleasure," Thranduil replied, escorting him to the car, "Drive safely, Bard,"
Smiling and filled the tingling anticipation of thoughts of tomorrow evening, Bard climbed into the driver's seat and, waving goodbye with his children, he began to pull out of the drive.
"I like him," Sigrid said from the back seat.
Yes, thought Bard, so do I.