Wood and iron (Barduil)

Under the tree crowns

 Bard knew he would have to meet the King of the Mirkwood again sooner or later, but he would have preferred it to be later. Unfortunately, circumstances would bring him right before Thranduil at the beginning of winter in the Mirkwood.

He breathed on his gnarled hands. He didn't remember being this cold when he was still taking care of wine deliveries for the Master. You're getting old, Bard. You're getting old and lazy, he thought self-critically. And it was true.

When he looked around, everything was the same as two years ago.

It was the end of November and the weather was already freezing cold. The trees down by the lake had long since been permanently covered in frost and the lake itself would soon be crossable with dry feet. Maybe in a week or two. He had to settle the matter with the elves before that happened.

"Are we really here right?" Iwar broke the silence with another question.

With a sigh, he turned to him and tucked his hands under his arms. The boy had too many questions and was being unnecessarily noisy. He would have preferred Bain to go with him. He should have gone with him, except that the Dole councillors didn't think it wise for both the king and his heir to leave the city. What if something happened, right? They had probably heard too many stories over the long winter evenings about kings of old who had more than once ended up at the hands of an apparent friend or ally. It hadn't occurred to them that there had been great kings of Rohan or Gondor, not a tiny king of two - more like one and a half towns - and some of the meadows and fields in the immediate area. He tried to explain it to them, but failed. They were adamant. Too bad he couldn't order them to explain their decision to Bain, who was looking forward to both the journey and the Elven city. He was furious about it, and reproached the Bard with saying that he should never have become king, for if he had not, he might have ridden with him, as the Bard himself had ridden with his father for the first time at the same age.

His day was just perfect. Bain hadn't spoken to him and now they were freezing here while they waited for the elves.

"We're right here."

They were there as they always were when he changed the payment for the wine barrels. If anything, elves were creatures of habit. They met with the Bard, his father, and even his grandfather in the same place.

"So where are the elves?"

"They'll show up."

"I think they should show some respect to the King of the Dole and not keep us waiting here, freezing to the bone," Iwar voiced his annoyance loud enough to make the ears of all those elves who must have been watching them from the gloom of the Dome whistle. Iwar wasn't a bad young man, but his eardrums were probably damaged from hours of pounding on the anvil.

"Likewise, you should show some respect if you want to enter our forest unharmed and leave just the same. The forest likes its peace, and does not welcome those who disturb it... by hollering as if in a marketplace," Elros uttered, seeming to materialize out of nowhere and startling Iwara into an ashen hiss with his silent approach.

The bard just jerked a little. In his years of doing business with the elves, he had grown accustomed to their sudden appearances.

"Elrosi. It's good to see you again. You took your time today..." he spoke politely to the elf, but he didn't forgive himself for the small rebuke. Not only was he truly a king and he had to admit that leaving him out in the cold really wasn't polite, especially since he knew Elros a little. The two of them always exchanged at least a few sentences about the goings on in the Lake Town, the Bard's wife, the merchants passing through the Mirkwood... just such common joys and sorrows of life. He wasn't the only elf he met, but he was definitely the one who came for payment most often, and the only one who was interested in the goings on outside of Hvozd.