Bard the First

I am Bard, and by my hand was the dragon slain and your treasure delivered. Is that not a matter that concerns you? --------- very selective BARD THE BOWMAN THE HOBBIT

[themirkwoodking]

tender is the night || Thranduil & Bard

[slays-dragons-blog]

BEAUTIFUL

Thranduil listens wordlessly, though his serene expression curls into something akin to disgust at the mention of his people being ugly and fat; while the mention of greed is something he can’t readily deny. Not as greedy as the dwarves, but still greedy enough for it to matter. And apparently greedy enough for it to end up in tales around the men of Laketown. He wonders where the idea of the elves of Mirkwood being ugly and fat came from, however. It more than likely had to do with the state of his forest over anything else. Looking back at it for a moment, even in the darkness, he had to agree.

There was a time when the forests of Mirkwood were bright and green. A time when it was a Great forest, glittering, golden, and safe. This new generation of men at Laketown wouldn’t have seen even a remnant of what once was; of course they’re going to come up with their own conclusions when there isn’t anyone to correct them.

Much in the same way he’s yet to inform Bard as to who he truly is. There’s nothing wrong with a little harmless secrecy. Besides, he’s starting to rather enjoy the casual setting in which the two are talking. No doubt, if he were to reveal who he is, the comfortable mood kept alight by the flickering embers of the fire would melt away in a matter of moments. At times, even the King wanted a break from the monotony of just that: being King.

“Otherworldly. Such a very odd way to put it,” he taps a finger to his chin, eyes glancing up at the stars at the thought of being from another world, “but also very accurate.” Although he hadn’t been alive during the time of the first elves, he had heard plenty of stories and tales when he was but a young thing. Spry and ready for the next adventure. Oh, how he longed for such times once more.

“The first elves came to this world in the dead of night, stars being their only source of light,” he starts, eyes darting to the face of the man in front of him before drifting upward to the starry sky again, “and thus the tale spins: we were born from stars. It is such a shame that we are now forced to hide from that which we were born from.” His eyes are on Bard again. “The evils of this world pushing us into what some believe is a hibernation of sorts. Afraid to open our doors to even look upon the starlight for but a moment, yet here we are —-

-— you and I.”

“Talking into the night, uncaring of the dangers certainly lurking around us. What do you suppose it means, Bard of Laketown?”

It fascinates Bard, the way the other’s eyes glitter in the starlight.

He had never been so awe-struck in his life over another living being-- if you disregarded his awe for nature and animals at times. The man leans back a bit, tilting his head to gaze at the stars along with the Elf for a moment before glancing back to meet the other’s brief gaze. Bard swallows hard, though he isn’t so certain what it is that’s made his mouth go dry. As the other male spoke, Bard shifted to lean forward, hanging off his every word with all the curiosity of a child being told a fairy tale.

The bargeman doesn’t have an answer for the beauty before him in regards to what makes them hide away. Though he could understand now to a fault why the tales of Elves were so incredibly different to the real deal. A hum takes him as the other uses his name, eyes landing on the male’s face to stare a moment before allowing his attention to wander-- his eyes cast a glance around the surrounding area, true to the fact he had honestly forgotten about the dangers lurking beyond. Another hum. He inhales slowly. 

“Fate, perhaps.” he’s willing to admit, feeling rather bold this evening. He has no reason to lie about himself or his feelings. This was a perfect stranger, and it was a moment of peace and serenity. A moment only the universe could provide for two souls that had always meant to meet one another. A wild thought process, perhaps... but Bard was a secret believer in those things, and much more. “And, perhaps the beauty of this world is finally pushing back.”

The twitch of a smile takes him, finding - albeit a little self consciously - that he had been leaning further forward while he admired the taller male across from him. “What do you suppose it means?”

[slays-dragons-blog]

Dating information

NAME : Bard THEIR PROFESSION :  bargeman / dragon slayer WHERE THEY CAN BE FOUND :  on his boat, out in nature, at home FAVOURITE FOOD TYPE : meat. any kind of meat. venison most? FAVOURITE ALCOHOLIC DRINK :  good old red wine FAVOURITE TRAIT : passion WHERE THEY WOULD GO ON A DATE :  somewhere in nature, or a quiet home cooked meal IDEAL GIFT : his date’s company and undivided attention. he doesn’t much care for material items, merely the company of his date WHEN WILL THEY DRINK ALCOHOL : any time it’s given to him LOL HOW MANY DATES UNTIL THEY GO TO BED:  it really does depend on the person. Bard isn’t out for a bed mate first thing, but if the connection is there it could take one date, six dates, or no date at all (cough cough, @themirkwoodking)

TAGGED BY : @sigrfridr TAGGING :  @themirkwoodking && anyone who is reading this <3

[slays-dragons-blog]

ARCHETYPE QUIZ .

45% Caregiver: Friendly, sincere, and compassionate, the Caregiver finds their reward in helping others. No one could ask for a better best friend.

41% Advocate: The Advocate is the one everyone wants on their side. In the name of justice, they are not afraid to challenge authority or speak up for others.

14% Visionary: Leave it to others to live by the status quo. The Visionary is interested in new ways of seeing, solutions not yet imagined, products not yet built.

tagged by: @themirkwoodking tagging: you know the rules, if you’re reading this you’re tagged

[slays-dragons-blog]

HANDWRITING CAN TELL YOU A LOT ABOUT A PERSON. go here and repost with your character’s name in their handwriting!

tagged by: @themirkwoodking​

tagging: again, i never know who to tag, so if you’re reading this consider yourself tagged<3

[slays-dragons-blog]

WHAT IS YOUR PLANT PERSONALITY?

tagged by: @themirkwoodking ( ty bbb<333 )

➳ DANDELION.

Scrappy and tough, you’re a pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps kind of person. You don’t give up easily and you often thrive in situations that others would find discouraging. You have an instinct to serve others and see yourself as most useful in times or places of crisis, but you may over rely on your toughness and forget how sensitive you really are.

➳ ECHINACEA.

A protector. With an amazing blend of optimism, nurturing and goodwill, you lend your strength and energy to those in need. Your seemingly infinite goodwill and boundless supportive energy make you the one people turn to when times are tough. Your greatest strength is, of course, also one of your weaknesses, especially if you neglect to take care of yourself. At times like these, it’s a good idea to take a step back and focus some of that protective energy on yourself.

➳ PASSIONFLOWER.

Deeply concerned about others and the world around you, you have a developed sense of what’s right and just. You’re a bit of an idealist and strive to see your vision of perfection realized in the world. On occasion you get out of balance, and you may feel a deep sense of unease and be prone to worry—especially at night, tossing and turning over all that is wrong or that needs fixing.

tagging: if you are reading this, consider yourself tagged<3

[slays-dragons-blog]

😢

𝔪

It’s never an easy subject to broach; Bard’s imminent passing.

His hair had been greying more, lines in his features cracking deeper into dry flesh with each passing year. And though Bard aged for some time, he miraculously stopped. What they hadn’t realized, however, was the lover’s coupling had granted them a wish only their souls could have asked for in the moment of their first time under the stars. Togetherness -- forever. Extended life in Bard’s regard, and a restful peacefulness within Thranduil’s. That was, until, the restfulness turned restless at the aging of Bard’s children.

It’s never an easy subject to broach, now; the children of Bard and their imminent passing.

On the night his eldest daughter passed, Bard could feel his heart break the same it had when his wife passed long ago. Sigrid had looked so much like her, and the King couldn’t deny that his wife pretty well lived through her anew as well. Bard had been immensely proud of her and the life she lived, as he was proud of all his children, but this was the first of his children to go and it was hitting him harder than he thought it would. He hadn’t ever expected to live long enough to see his children pass. A parent shouldn’t have to bury their child.

Seated outside, after a quiet dinner, Bard had busied himself with the stars. He had remained strong, for his own sanity more than anything, but now in the silence of the night surrounding him he found the time had come to finally succumb to his emotions. And he drowned. Heels of his palms pressed desperately against his eyes, trying to dam the tears that threatened to escape. They spilled over eventually, a quiet hiccup the only indication that he was crying, and not merely forcing back stress or exhaustion.

A hand on his shoulder startles him, and the bowman sucks in a sharp breath. Squeezing his eyes shut, the man does what he can to ignore the Elvenking’s body pressing ever closer, slotting against his back like pieces to a puzzle fitting seamlessly together. A whispered pet name is what inevitably ends him, and Bard turns into his husband’s embrace with a dry sob. He tucks his face into the taller male’s chest, arms tucked up between them and hands fisting the fabric of Thranduil’s gown. “My baby.” he chokes, and if it weren’t for Thranduil’s arms around him, holding him up at one of his weakest moments, he’d have surely dropped to his knees to grieve.

[slays-dragons-blog]

😉

𝔪

A hum escapes the bowman as Thranduil moves about their shared bedroom, eyes raking over the Elvenking’s figure unabashed. Chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully, the man shifts to lean forward on the edge of the bed, offering the other a dopey smile when he glances over his shoulder to be certain he’s listening to the spiel that he’s going on and on about-- and perhaps to make certain that Bard’s eyes were, indeed, on him and nothing else.

Bard isn’t listening, but he’s perfectly content watching the other pace. He wants to reach out and bundle up the flowing gown in his arms, pull it taught against that slender body and admire his form as it is meant to be admired under his watchful gaze... but he had to admit, the gown did give him such a regal air. A dominant one, despite the femininity of it. Far be it for Bard to ever argue against Thranduil being the dominant one of their relationship.

He’d been proven wrong more than once in that regard.

At the call of his name, the man finally flicks his gaze up to meet his lover’s face, a dull pink dusting his cheeks as he’s been caught staring-- no matter how long they’d been together, Bard was still at time, rather bashful. Thranduil doesn’t seem irritated that Bard hadn’t been listening; instead, he’s smirking quite lasciviously at the shorter male and advancing at a leisurely pace. Bard leans back just a tad to the Elvenking’s towering form as he comes up to stand before him, though the fingers under his chin pull him to stand on shaking legs.

Mysteriously, his mouth goes bone dry and he has a difficult time swallowing. Thranduil always has this effect on him, no matter how many times they had been intimate. Kissed or otherwise. The question on whether or not he had been listening has Bard shaking his head hesitantly, dopey smile remaining as he gazes upon his lover’s face. “No, but I’ve been watching.”

The King’s hands shift; from cupping the bargeman’s face, to slither smoothly along his sides before settling on his hips. Bard attempts to swallow again, the action audible to Thranduil’s keen sense of hearing. The grip on his hips has him releasing a hurried exhale, and when he’s pulled in close against the Elvenking, Bard ducks his head once more in a bashful act of submission. The peppering of kisses his the top of his head and face is a familiar one, and Bard can’t stop himself from chuckling softly and pressing his face to the crook of Thranduil’s neck and shoulder-- breathing him in deeply, contently, adoringly. 

It’s a good thing Thranduil has hold of him, because it’s the only thing that keeps him anchored in place right now.

[slays-dragons-blog]

@themirkwoodking that was entire unnecessary, and you should be ashamed.

[slays-dragons-blog]

😚 Kiss my muse on the cheek

𝔪

It’s a good day today.

For once, Bard isn’t bogged down by grey and sadness, and there’s a lazy smile that graces the bargeman’s features as he watches his children play some imaginary game. It’s times like this where he forgets-- he forgets his responsibilities for a short time, forgets the pain and the ache in his heart. He forgets the starvation gnawing at their bellies and he forgets the stench that surrounds them on the docks and in the water. He forgets they’re struggling, and remembers that they’re truly living still.

Tilda’s laughter has Bard’s smile widening more, one leg crossing over the other and body shifting lazily back until he’s leaned against the side of a pillar, arms crossed and eyes shut in contentment. A hum escapes him, a simple little tune that he quietly hums to himself with raised foot tapping the air, but he’s suddenly interrupted with an eerie silence-- his children were no longer laughing, nor did he hear the tip-taps of their worn shoes on wooden planks.

With a knit brow, Bard peeks an eye open, glancing about the immediate area and then it dawns on him, the moment he catches a glimpse of a quiet and giggling body behind a box. They’re waiting to jump out at him. Well, he could play along too! He was a patient man!

Bard picks up his humming once more, foot tapping and leg bouncing a bit to the tune until he hears a hurried set of tip-taps before him. Bain has the job of holding his legs down while Tilda grabs at his arms-- but he’s too quick, and he shouts out playfully at them, opening his arms wide to pull Tilda into his lap with one arm. He wraps his free arm around Sigrid’s waist, pulling her against his side as well to nuzzle into her hair with a slew of; “I got you brats, I got you!”

As the laughter dies down a bit, and the children back away to go play with one another once more, the gentle press of lips to his scruffy cheek has Bard smiling fondly after his eldest daughter. They were good kids; he lucked out. He didn’t very often brag, but he had to admit... he did a fine job raising them since their mother had passed.

[slays-dragons-blog]

to-do:

memes x7 replies: x x x

thanks again everyone for being so welcoming <3 feel free to leave me things in my inbox if you so wish

[slays-dragons-blog]

"All that's left alive here is me."

𝔪

Bard was no stranger to the forests near Lake-town, but he hadn’t witnessed the depression of the woods in quite some time. The bargeman had been tracking instead of fishing for once, hearing of a small herd of deer and unwilling to pass up the opportunity to really fill the bellies of his children. How true it was that there was a small herd was beyond the bowman, but he was more than willing to chance it anyhow, if only to save his family from gnawing hunger.

What he stumbles upon instead certainly has doe eyes, but certainly does not have the means necessary of feeding his children. Bard’s bow is at the ready, arm pulled back only slightly, however, as he quickly realizes he’s looking upon a woman instead of a doe or stag. He can’t deny the disappointment that sparks through him, fingers and limbs static with the numbness of irritation of another night gone hungry, but he knew at least there was food enough at home for his kids.

He would have to resort to some broth for himself, but that was fine. So long as his babies were fed.

Dropping his aim, Bard holsters his bow, body shifting out of the brush to make his way toward the woman in question-- his head tilts to her words, brow quirking before he turns tired eyes toward the dead forest next to them. A sigh escapes him audibly, an irritated smile curving his mouth, though the irritation is not placed with this strange woman in the least. Merely, the death and silence that surrounds them. 

“I believe it completely.” he finally hums, stepping up to finally rest beside the young woman. His eyes flick from the eerie forest to settle on her face curiously. “You would be wise not to step foot in there.” He didn’t know, of course, whether or not she knew this already. She was a complete stranger to him-- and for all he knew, she had walked right out of there personally, but one could never be too careful. And one could never really get rid of that paternal instinct either.

[slays-dragons-blog]

“you are the person i look up to most.”

𝔪 

There were always times where Bard assumed his late wife was the role model for his children. Once upon a time, when she had been full of life and love and laughter, she spent the most time with the children and Bard was more than happy to come home at the end of the day to hear stories of what they all got up to that day. They had all spoken highly of their mother, and Bard couldn’t blame them. She was the light of his life, as much as their children were, and it was that light distinguished that really made Bard wary in his attempts to frame a good outlook for them all.

He wasn’t perfect, not that he had ever taught them that perfection was something to achieve - merely happiness and kindness - but he wanted to give them a better role model than anyone else would be around the lake. It was the words his daughter spoke this afternoon, as he busied himself with preparing a lunch fit enough to fill their bellies, that made Bard’s chest tighten in a muddle of surprise and befuddlement.

Pride washes over him in a wave, however, as he turns to face Sigrid and catches the look in her eye-- she would never lie to him, especially about something so important to them both. A smile graces his features after a beat, arms stretching out toward her to welcome her in for a hug. Should she step into his embrace, the proud father leans his head down to kiss the top of her head, cheek resting there with a soft sigh. There isn’t much more that needs to be said-- Bard has always been one to believe in actions speaking much louder than words anyhow.

[plotbunnie]

Nonverbal RP Starters

I’m finding it difficult to find memes for nonverbal characters ( be they mute, or just not fond of talking ) so I thought I’d make a few!

Neutral

☝️ Tap my muse on the shoulder

👉 Point to something for my muse to see

🤙 Bump into my muse

😊 Sit down next to my muse

🤨 Sit down across from my muse

📓 Push/Slide [an object] across a table to my muse

✍️ Pass my muse a note

🙄 Roll their eyes at my muse

🚪 Tap on a table/door/wall/chair to get my muse’s attention without speaking

Aggressive

🐺 Growl at my muse

😬 Snarl/show teeth at my muse

😠 Death Glare at my muse

🙌 Push/Shove my muse

👊 Punch my muse

👖 Kick my muse in the shin

👠 Stomp on my muse’s foot

😵 Knee my muse in the gut

💀 Knee my muse in the groin

🔪 Point a weapon at my muse

🖕 Flip my muse the bird/a similar gesture

👔 Roughly pull my muse down by the collar

💢 Bang on a door/wall/table to get my muse’s attention- angrily

Angst

👩‍⚕️ Put pressure on my muse’s wound

🌡 Push my muse down to give them medical attention

🥣 Bring my muse soup/medicine when they are sick

🤢 Hold my muse’s hair back/Rub my muse’s back while they are sick/throwing up

👐 Hold my muse when they are badly wounded/dying

👁 Wake my muse up during a nightmare

🐱 Hold my muse after a nightmare

😭 Hold my muse when they are crying

😢Touch my muse’s shoulder while they are crying in secret

💧 Wipe away my muse’s tears

💥 Try to calm my muse during an overwhelming emotional moment

⛈ Find my muse after some kind of trauma

Soft

👕 Tug on my muse’s sleeve/shirt/skirt

🐈 Lean against my muse’s side

🤝 Hold my muse’s hand

🤗 Pull my muse into a hug

🐕 Rest their head on my muse’s shoulder/knee

🐶 Nuzzle my muse with their nose [specify a location]

✋ Touch the back of my muse’s hand

🤝 Reach for my muse’s hand to hold it

👗 Fix/Straighten my muse’s clothes

😴 Stand by the bed to see if my muse will let you under the covers with them

🛌 Crawl under the covers with my muse

🥪 Set a plate/tray/bowl of food down for my muse

😚 Kiss my muse on the cheek

Playful

🌸 Put a flower in my muse’s hair

✨ Playfully shove my muse’s shoulder

💃 Pull my muse onto a dance floor/up to dance

🤞 Come up beside them and tap the shoulder opposite where they’re standing

😈 Jump out of the shadows to scare/startle my muse

😛 Stick their tongue out at my muse

😱 Make a silly face at my muse

🤭 Tickle my muse

👃 Poke my muse’s nose

💪 Pick my muse up

Sensual/Sexual

💘 Pull my muse in for a rough kiss

💕 Pull my muse in for a tender kiss

💞 Pull my muse in for a messy/desperate kiss

💖 Lean in to give my muse a sweet/chaste kiss

❤️ Lean in to give my muse a tender kiss

🔥 Pull my muse down by the collar/by their clothes - in a sexy way

😉 Pull my muse in by the hips

😲 Smack my muse’s butt

💋 Kiss my muse’s neck

👌 Push my muse down and give them a massage

👙 Pull [an article of clothing] off my muse

👀 Push my muse down on the bed

👄 Pull my muse onto the bed

[slays-dragons-blog]

i was pretty productive today, despite recovering still. i’m excited to get to some more things tomorrow as i have another day off work! and i’ll probably be staying home monday as well, just to be certain i’m all better

memes x2 replies: x x x

thanks again everyone for being so welcoming <3 feel free to leave me things in my inbox if you so wish

[slays-dragons-blog]

“it’s okay to let others help pick up the pieces.”

𝔪

Admittedly, it has been more than frustrating at times, being a single parent and still expecting to provide for his family. Knowing full well he wasn’t the only one doing so, Bard still hit the ground running and tended not to stop, even on supposed days off, when he needn’t worry so much about working himself to exhaustion. Sigrid did a lot at home while he worked, and while he was forever grateful, he did feel guilt when things began to catch up with him. These were things his late wife had prided herself in doing-- raising the children, tending to the house. Taking care of him.

It was a slower night; things were beginning to settle down now, and as Bard sat himself next to the window, eyes flicking across winking stars and satin darkness, the man only tears his gaze away from the night sky at the voice of his daughter. A small smile tugs at his features, though it dies down but a moment after. He knows it’s in reference to the sadness that he has been very conscious of pushing away-- out of sight, out of mind. And yet, he doesn’t deem it very fair for his children to see their Da like this. It isn’t anyone’s responsibility to pick up the pieces but his own.

“Come here, darling.” He breathes, forcing another smile toward the girl before motioning with his hand for her to come toward him. “You have been an incredible help around here, and I appreciate it more than you can ever know.” The man opts out of touching on the matter, however. He knows there’s really no sense in arguing with the girl-- she would win anyhow. “Thank you, precious. I honestly can’t thank you enough.”

[slays-dragons-blog]

“the last bouquet of flowers you gave me are wilting in their vase.”

𝔪

“How can that possibly be?” he muses, smile curving his mouth as he watches Thranduil carefully. “Your beauty brings life to all that sees it.” 

A devilish smirk takes his previous smile, one hand reaching out to grip the other’s bicep playfully before pulling him in toward his chest. Not rough, but enough to hopefully pull the taller male against him. “I suppose we will have to go pick some more, hm? The girls do love their flower picking.”

[elfofwoodland]

Daughters of Bard (x)