Life had a funny way of turning itself around, he thought to himself, as he finished packing his bag, and carried it through to the pile of bags stacked in the small hallway of the Bowman family home. Yesterday, he had been struggling to make ends meet, working at a local record shop and doing guitar repairs, and now the whole family were packing up and leaving for no less than eight months after Sigrid, his nineteen-year-old daughter, had landed a gig doing back-up singing for who was probably one of the biggest pop stars on the world stage. He was having trouble processing it, not because he lacked any faith in his daughter- he couldn't be prouder of her- but because of the bad luck that had cursed the Bowman family for only its entire existence. When he was in his early 20s, he was in a band that was looking up to being very successful- they even had a record deal, and had regular gigs, until one of the guys left, and the whole thing collapsed; when he thought it couldn't get any worse, his girlfriend, and the mother of the children disappeared; then they lost the house and were forced to move into this tiny rental property. The odds didn't exactly look in his favour, but maybe they were improving. He wouldn't be sorry to see the back of this house, that's for sure, and no matter how much they tried to hide it,he knew his kids felt the same. Sigrid was practically buzzing to leave, and was the first packed- into a moderate two suitcases, one handbag, and her guitar case.
"Why don't you go help Tilda, sweetheart," he said to Sigrid, almost grinning as much as she was.
"I think she's nearly done, Da, but I'll help grab the bags," she responded, excited, leaving the hallway to go into her and Tilda's room.
"You nearly done Bain?" he called up to the small upstairs room that belonged to his son.
"I'll be down in a second," the boy called back, followed by the crash of a suitcase being rolled down the stairs. He sighed, trying not to laugh at Bain's chosen method of luggage transportation. "You know, the bag has handles for a reason," he called up.
"It's more fun this way" the boy called back, emerging at the top of the stairs with his second bag, and coming down to join them.
As Bain reached the bottom of the stairs, Sigrid emerged with Tilda's bags, shortly followed by Tilda herself, who also looked like she was about to bounce off the ceiling with excitement- probably because his 14-year-old daughter had been a massive fan of Thranduil since she first got a CD player, at the age of about six.
"Ready to go?" he asked the three children.
"I checked over my room and Tilda's room and nothing seems to have been left behind," Sigrid replied, turning to Bain for his response.
"I checked my room and the corridor," It all looks clear, the boy added.
"I'm ready," Tilda added with a grin.
"Okay, I've checked everything else and it's all in order, grab as many bags as you can, and lets go" he said, opening the door for the children, who each had at least two bags- he and Sigrid had to make two trips from the house to the car and back to get everything, but eventually he and his eldest daughter were standing outside the house for the last time. He tucked the house key under the doormat as per the landlord's instructions, and hugged his daughter.
"I'm so proud of you Sigrid, I hope you know that- you deserve this, after all the work you've put in over these last few years, I love you so much my little songbird."
"Thanks Da, I know," she responded, hugging him back, before letting go and heading over to the passenger side of the car.
Taking one last look at the house he had spent the last twelve years in, he got in the car and turned out of the residential road, making their way to the airport, with all three children singing along to a CD that he had put together years ago for Sigrid, blasting the lyrics to Girls just want to have fun, out of the open window, that was acting as some pathetic kind of air conditioning (as the aircon had broken years ago and they couldn't afford to repair it), but nobody seemed to care, since the sun was bright and warm, and the sky didn't even have the slightest hint of rain.
—
The drive to Denver International Airport was fairly short and uneventful, despite the fact that Bard hadn't been there for years- mostly due to good signposting, and Sigrid's excellent command of google maps. After a few minutes of driving around the surrounding roads, they were able to locate the long stay car park, but soon realised that they would never manage the walk to check-in with so many bags, and left the children with the bags, while he went to find a trolley. Fortunately coming across one in the middle of the car park, he brought it back to the car, and they loaded their bags onto it, before making their way to check-in, where they had to get their boarding passes, and check their bags.
The airport itself was bigger than he had imagined, and finding the correct terminal to check in at had proved more difficult than expected, but fortunately Bard had also left a grand total of 5-hours to navigate the airport, so they weren't worried.
"God, this has got to be the biggest stereotype ever," Sigrid laughed as they waited in the queue to get their boarding passes. "Off to LA for a major music gig."
"If our biggest problem is being a stereotype, I'll take it," Bard joked back.
"Have you got the details, Sig," Bain asked Sigrid, as they approached the check-in counter.
"Right here somewhere," she replied, rummaging through her handbag and producing a plastic folder of all the details she should need to get their boarding passes and check the bags. When did she become so grown-up, he smiled to himself, watching his eldest take charge of the trip. After checking in all the bags (apart from the guitars, which neither he or Sigrid trusted in the hold), they headed towards security, the whole thing starting to feel a whole lot more real now that they were free of all the bags.
"Why don't we sort out the paper stuff before security," he suggested, pulling the family out of the way of the corridor."
"Good idea," Sigrid responded, "Okay, this one's Bain's," she began, handing the boy his boarding pass, "Tilda, this one's yours, this one's mine, and this one's yours, Da," she continued, passing out the respective boarding passes.
"Damn," Bain exclaimed loudly, slightly in awe, "When you said they agreed to fly us out I didn't realise we were getting the whole first class experience!"
"Watch your language Bain," he corrected, trying to cover up his own surprise at the first-class ticket in his hand. "This'll be a fun flight," he couldn't help but agree with Bain a little.
"Okay, let's head to security," Sigrid decided, now that they were organised.
When they got to security, the line was short, but Sigrid had to stop to move her makeup into one of the small plastic bags.
"That is not going to fit," Bain teased his sister. "Why didn't you just check it?"
"You wouldn't understand," Sigrid grumbled, continuing the fight with the plastic bag.
"Okay, just split it into four, we'll take one each," Bard decided, trying not to laugh at his daughter's antics- it's not like any of the rest of them had brought liquids in their hand luggage anyway.
Eventually they made it to the security line, and after the hassle of trying to remove their shoes and jackets, the process was fairly quick, and they all came out unharmed (except for poor Tilda's dignity, after she was searched because of a suspicious looking scrunchie on her wrist).
"Shall we grab coffee and breakfast before finding our gate and shopping?" Bard suggested, and was met with agreement from all of the kids, who had located a nearby Starbucks, and quickly found a table.
"You want what?" He overheard, from the table behind them, and looked up to see a red haired girl who couldn't be much older than Sigrid looking beyond frustrated at a blonde haired boy, who was probably a similar age.
"I want a trenta iced coffee with cream, 20 pumps of raspberry, and 20 pumps of white mocha, It's fairly simple really," the boy shrugged.
"Legolas that drink is more syrup than coffee!? How can you even drink something like that?! I am not ordering it. If you want that monstrosity buy it yourself!"
"Please, Tauriel," he smiled at her, with puppy eyes.
"Fine, just don't tell your dad," she laughed.
"You know he's had so much worse," he laughed back.
Bard tried not to laugh at them, as he collected orders from his own children (much more reasonable): Vanilla oat milk matcha latte for Sigrid, iced latte with mocha syrup for Bain, and caramel frappuccino for Tilda, before heading up to the counter to order the drinks.
As he walked up to the counter, the redhead girl, named Tauriel, was ordering the monstrous drink for the boy, and rather amusingly, her own iced black coffee.
"I swear he only does this to embarrass me," she laughed lightly, standing back to wait for her drink, and for Bard to order.
"I know the feeling," he replied, remembering a slightly horrific combination of varying types of caramel that Sigrid had once ordered. "Bard Bowman," he said, introducing himself, and offering her his hand.
"Tauriel," she introduced herself, shaking his hand. "-and that is Legolas, my sort of pseudo-brother. Your name sounds familiar? Do I know you from somewhere?"
"Probably not," he replied, intrigued.
"Where are you headed?" Tauriel asked.
"LAX," he responded, briefly.
"Ah, the land of artists, actors, and musicians. Me too. Which one are you?"
"Musician, although less so than my daughter- Sigrid recently got a job doing back-up vocals for a big tour."
"Sigrid Bowman?" Tauiel asked, having a lightbulb moment. "That's where I know you from, you're doing some of the tech stuff at Thranduil's USA shows, right?"
"How did you know?" Bard asked, slightly surprised.
"Thranduil is Legolas' dad," Tauriel laughed slightly at Bard's surprise. "We were out here visiting family, and have to be back by the same dates as you. Mind if we join you?" Tauriel asked, picking up her drinks.
"Not at all," I'll be there in a minute, he replied, picking up the final drink, and following Tauriel back to the tables, which had now been pushed together.
"Oh. My. God. I am actually dreaming", Tilda exclaimed, dramatically pinching herself on the arm. "You're Tauriel and Legolas!"
"Nice to meet you,"Tauriel said, holding out her hand.
"Oh, sorry, excuse my manners, I'm Tilda. Big fan." she corrected herself, politely shaking Tauriel's hand.
"And this is Bain, and you've probably met Sigrid from auditions," Bard finished the introductions.
"Nice to meet you Bain, I have already met Sigrid, but nice to see you again," she added, turning to Sigrid with a smile.
Legolas was silent, slurping on the drink Tauriel had dubbed as "Evil in a Starbucks cup".
"I'm fourteen, Bain is eighteen, and Sigrid is nineteen," Tilda added, furthering the introductions.
"I'm seventeen, Legolas is eighteen, but acts like he's ten," Tauriel replied, punctuated by a loud slurp from the horrifying drink.
"What even is that?" Tilda asked Legolas.
"a trenta iced coffee with cream, 20 pumps of raspberry, and 20 pumps of white mocha," Legolas replied proudly. Even Tilda, queen of sweet drinks, blanched at the thought, making it very difficult for Bard not to laugh.
"I think we ought to be heading to the gate now," Sigrid interrupted, also trying not to laugh. "You on the same plane?" she asked Tauriel.
"Gate A28 right?"
"Yeah," Sigrid replied, "Do you know where that is?"
"I do," Tauriel laughed, "Follow us."