Chapter Text
He stoked the fire and closed the grate again. With that same hot poker he heated his mulled cider by dipping the hot metal into the liquid, resulting in a satisfying sizzle. Now that that was taken care of, he sat back in his armchair to contemplate this luxurious living condition in Dale. The King's private study had an enormous fireplace, a tall window which faced south (and was such that he could see Ravenhill), and shelves installed directly to the walls, reaching up so high that it would take three people standing on each others' shoulders to reach the top shelves. A desk and some armchairs had been placed in the room once Bard had taken up residence. From here, too, there were various secret passages to his children's rooms – as well as many which were as yet vacant – which he often used to tuck his children at night after the servants had left.
The goblet had just touched his lips when there was a rapping on the door. He sighed, putting the goblet on the table, and shuffled to the door in his slippers. On the other side was a familiar elf.
“Tauriel?”
She smiled and held up a bottle, swishing the contents. “A toast to simple times?” Bard held the door open for her and she swept into the room. Tauriel made herself right at home in an armchair, pouring out the wine into two goblets.
“I see you've started without me,” she remarked. “I wasn't expecting you,” he replied as he seated himself.
“Please tell me you are not here with more messages from your King.”
Her laugh was as warm as the crackling fire. “Seeing as the sun has long set, no.” She looked around the room. “Well, it's not a tavern, but it will do.”
Their goblets were raised in a toast to the end of the lengthy trade agreements.