Barduil prompt? :) Thran getting badly injured during the BOFA and concealing it from everyone, especially Legolas because he doesn't want to stop him from leaving if it's what he needs. Bard's the only who notices because he's so gone on Thran that he finds himself always seeking Thran out in a room so he sees how he carries himself differently, but Thran denies being hurt even when Bard calls him out on it, but Bard won't let it rest...
Hallo. I am here with a response! It is 4:30am here and I am listening to Shirobon and vibing with my cats.
Please enjoy this, anon!
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When Thranduil returned from Ravenhill he was without Legolas but led a grief-stricken Tauriel through the crowds, with her hand clasped tightly in his.
Bard watched grimly from a doorway, his children huddled into his side exhausted and shaken from the day’s events, unwilling to separate from their father when he gently eased Tilda’s small fingers from their vice-like grip on his bloodsoaked coat, all the while murmuring soft words and promises that he would return as soon as he could.
When he found Thranduil he was in his private tent, the elf was holding himself up with the edge of the table with a large map sprawled over the majority of the surface, and to be honest, Bard hadn’t expected to be allowed entry. But the guards had ushered him in gently no words passing between them but insistent nudges guided the man into the tent and toward their king.
Upon hearing someone enter Thranduil straightens to his full height but Bard was quick to see the grimace, there and gone in an instant. When he turned to face him Thranduil was impossibly pale, more so than Bard had ever witnessed in the elf before.
While he hadn’t truly spent much time in the presence of the King, aside from their first initial meetings when agreeing his work with taking barrels on his boat down the river, and of course, when he blazed in on his elk to ‘save the day’ with effortless grace, Bard knew he was absolutely in love with Thranduil.
His feelings would not ever be addressed not out loud and certainly not with himself in the dark of night when he could not sleep. But it did allow him to be more observant of the elf whenever he might have been in the vicinity.
“You’re hurt?” Bard took a hesitant step forward but nothing more though he was now close enough that when he reached out to Thranduil his fingertips brushed the cold metal of his breastplate.
The metal was torn and jagged but his hand was angrily slapped away before he could inspect any closer.
“The battle is done, there is no need for you to seek me out.”
“My Lord, you are injured and you need to be attended to.” Bard didn’t want whatever fantasy of Thranduil he had built in his mind to be demolished by the blond while he was railed against the pain he might have been in.
At this rate, the king would get sick, he was sure of it, yet it seemed there would be nothing he could say to have Thranduil relent and release his grip on his own ego.
“You think that I would conceal an injury?” Thranduil snapped, the cool exterior he had placed so firmly before him had all but melted away and now he stood tall, imposing and heated with anger blazing in his eyes. “For what reason would I wish to elude healers and those here to attend to me?”
