"Then Bard drew his bow-string to his ear."
Independent RP Account Versed in Middle-Earth (12/29/13)
Word travelled fast, especially amongst the firstborn who were quick on their feet. The rim of the forest was full of hidden eyes, whenever they were not chasing their foes around the trees and the spacious meadows. The Elvenking would never allow the enemy to spread, the Elves fought back and were watchful, ever so keen to dispatch as fast as possible. The darkness tried to push them away, yet the Elves, creatures of light refused vigorously.
The humans of Esgaroth were of course neither enemy nor unknown to them, the woodlandrealm traded with them for fish, apples and butter, for safety as well. The Elves are said to aid the humans, Thranduil knowing that one day it shall pay off. Captain Bard’s visit was met with only mild surprise and his pleading welcomed with keen, pointy ears though Thranduil looked thoughtful as his icy hues pierced the human, seemingly gazing into his soul. The captain, in no way dressed shabby like others of the fisher-folk looked slightly travel worn. Of course, Mirkwood was relentlessly tainted, unwelcoming of intruders even if this one had the King’s blessing and was accompanied by high ranking elven soldiers.
“Is this what you fear?” the King then inquires, leaned back on his throne with one long leg draped over the other and the fair head canted in question and the fine mouth in not quite a stright line, a faint curl indicating the beginning of a smile. “That I am not tending to your matter?”
“We are displeased by the current events, as much as you are with the only difference that our defences are better. Orcs roaming close to our lands cannot be tolerated, especially if your people are endangered.” No, that would not do and Thranduil’s face contorted into an expression of great distaste. “Tell me captain, explain me the situation in your town in detail. Usually, I would request a review and statement from the master, yet it seems he could not find the door of his estate.”
Lips pressed into a thin line, the Elvenking made no secret out of his dislike for the man who seemed to worm his way out of political matters whenever it turned uncomfortable.
For the elves and humans to be harmonious was nothing peculiar. They were all of Eru, and only when they clashed did it really showcase their differences. This was not one of those scenarios, where Bard stood tall in the land of the Elves, where he did feel— safe.
There was no reason to doubt, Bard would hope not. Whatever the Master had reasons not to venture out on his own, he hardly had the backbone for anyway. The captain’s hands left his side and they crossed as he listened to what the Elvenking has to say. To miss a minute detail would not be wise.
Not one to be flustered, the bowman cannot deny that he is amused. Amused that the king upon his throne seems a pinch more jovial than the ordinary. Doth corners tipping upwards count for such a thought? The corner of his eyes crinkle a bit in reply. “But are you, not tending to our matter? Only when you speak aloud of it will I worry, for I shan’t worry about what isn’t truth, but fear of mystery itself.”
“Certainly, the borders of Long Lake do not compare anymore than an egg without it’s shell, my Lord. We are vulnerable, that is clear.” To be reaffirmed that the alliance between Mirkwood and Esgaroth remained in place, (Had he any doubt to begin with? do not question him now,) Bard breathed easier, relief coursing through his being despite his conviction within his own mind that yes, he hadn’t anything to fear. This was a worthy alliance, one of a lengthy duration.
“Surely you do not jest, and it is with that truth that red marrs my face. They run freely, periodically. Our people are in fear, and whilst my men do what we can, to fend off the irregular and unpredictable orcs that appear when they wish… Our people are in fear, as is our Master, which is why it is I that graces your presence, instead of he.”
“Easier, perhaps, but I do not seek for ease; I am in need of skills.”
Perhaps that answer would suffice, because truth be told, Ingirun did not want to delve into detail about her myriad of siblings back home, how because of their own mother’s stubbornness, not one had been able to learn things to make them able to live on their own when the time would come. It was her mother’s hardheadedness that kept the children from their fathers (Ingirun herself had never known whom her own father was,) and one of the sole purposes for Ingirun’s journey away from home in the first place. Despite her reverie of thoughts which rested with her home, she still listened to the man’s words, watched carefully as he approached, wary all the while just in case.
“I simply wish to learn how to fish with a rod, as opposed to my hands. Due to my height, I am not able to go deeper into waters where more fish tend to dwell.”
“Ah, to be hardened with the proper technique of using a rod rather than hands, I suppose these are two very different techniques.” He cannot help but take a look upon her hands. “Dexterity should not be a problem, my lady."
He rummages around his boat for another rod to offer the lady, whom he still was not acquainted with by name. Needn’t be rude now, he was curious. Bard wanted to know, what a dwarf was doing, out in the midst of no where it seemed, not part of Mirkwood nor Lake-town, but most definitely here. It was no wonder the bargeman was intrigued. This was a peculiar sight, and this was coming from one who waited alongside here often.
"Are you travelling alone?"
