mirkwoodism:

bowbearer:

<sub>“That I know, m’lord.” The lack of goodwill and agreement between the two races was long gone, and did not seem to repair itself through time. Grudges were held on either sides, and both races had a tendency of patience and pushing through.

           Much to Bard’s chagrin. 

Stubbornness. Self-sustainability. These lent itself to the equation of not finding it necessary to aid others, when one hardly needed it themselves.  ”But there is one thing we all seek for, and if I may, bring the topic of the treasures under the mountain—-

“But of course it does not belong all to the dwarves, for the riches of Dale, Smaug harbors under his hide. What gems you used to have with trade of Erebor, could once again become yours again—-” Well, he wasn’t sure of that, not sure of anything at all. But he knew it would be by his hand that the dragon would fall, for there was naught else that could penetrate the dragon’s very own armor.

                     ”It would be a fair bargain, would it not? Oakenshield could claim his own throne, and we would get what we wish, too.”</sub> 

          _{Yes, he had done nothing to hide his distrust and dislike of dwarves, had he? Not one bit. Still, his longstanding, insult-driven grudge was for Thrór, not Thorin, not really. And when the man brought up the topic of the treasure… Well, there were gems in that dragon’s hoard he’d love to get his hands on, for a number of reasons.}

              _{Perhaps, perhaps he could…}

                    _{(it would put his people at risk, but the dragon’s downfall
                     was worth such a risk, of that he was almost certain, of
                     that he could be confident, that was a good enough reason
                     to risk the lives of his people)}

              _{“You have made your argument, and I will aid you, then. I would not wish to hear of the destruction of Esgaroth and know there was something I could have done to try and prevent it.” No, his quarrel had never been with the men that lived near his realm.}

        _{This was not for the dwarves, he told himself as he mentally tallied up how many of his people he could send to this… battle.}

king-eldarion:

bowbearer

        “You have an impressive draw speed
                      for firing with a long bow.”

“ It is no competition, I am sure you are very skillful as well– 
               unless the bow is not your choice of weaponry? " 

shadowofthelonglake:

Her hands shock as she watched his face. Her knees
ached, but it was dull and she could easily ignore it.
Why did he care? Why was she here and not with her
family? Her head started to pound, reaching a hand up
to press against the left side of her head.

               ”I don’t understand-“

Her eyes started to sting; she could feel the tears forming,
a lump in her throat. Sigrún raised her other hand, to moved
his hands away from her legs and shoved her night shirt back
down. 

              “Why am I? Shouldn’t b-be
                with them? S-shouldn’t I be
                with my f-family?”

Her head pounded.

“Do not fret," 

        & he wants to smack himself on the head. 
        Indulging in the tales of his own children, 
        Bard knew he should have gone with truth
        and he was falling down a very, very deep rabbit hole. 

Maybe it was not too late. He could still get his littl'uns 
in here, and she would be none the wiser. Until her 
memory came back, then she’d understand. She
would understand what he was doing, because that's 
what Sigrun would do. 

      ” Your family are near. Closer than you think.“ 
He wants to ask, if she would recognize them, but
he knows he should not. Bard’s stuck, and his hands
are knocked away from his own wife’s own form and
he’s thankful she’s too busy fixing her own attire to 
notice the distraught in his eyes. 

Bard stands, stiffening back. Avoiding the topic with
( not so great ) subtlety, the bargeman pointedly 
moved swiftly to the door, nodding lightly. "I will be
right back. Perhaps some ointment to aid your knee," 
he stated withholding emotion, leaving before Sigrun
had a chance to question where everyone was. 

        And he knew not how to respond to them either, 
who were likely waiting eagerly if they knew she was 
awake now. 

alowlysilvanelf:

“Well, I can certainly see how that would be rather terrifying,” Tauriel replied with a quiet laugh, a hint of cheekiness in her voice. She smiled softly at his thanks, continuing to sit quite still. “There is no need to thank me,” she assured him gently. “I find it quite enjoyable.”

“With hair like yours, it’s no wonder. If it got tangled, well– that wouldn’t be nearly as enjoyable.” He hummed a tune, although it was likely foreign to Tauriel’s ears. “Is life here different from… home?” Bard did not necessarily want to press on  uncomfortable topics, but he was still nonetheless, curious.