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The so-called Battle of the Five Armies had been a bloody and solemn affair for Bard. Not only were the dwarven princes and king dead, but he had lost Laketown to Smaug's fire and Dale had been further damaged than it already had been, and many of the population of Laketown were now dead. On top of this, following the disappearance of the Master and Alfrid, the people of Laketown had unanimously declared Bard king, a position he felt in no way prepared for, and one he never expected to take. In the immediate aftermath of the battle, whilst he was discussing arrangements with King Dáin to house his people in Erebor while Dale was rebuilt, Bard took the position and title for granted. It wasn't until he emerged from the bargaining tent and met with his people that he realised just how much responsibility he was now burdened with.
A surprising number of his people were not too happy with the decision to temporarily move into Erebor, given that the company of Thorin Oakenshield had, unwittingly, set Smaug on Laketown, but Bard stood his ground. "Look here," he said, to one particularly stubborn noblewoman, "I'm not too happy about it either, but we will have shelter and food and healers to tend to the wounded. If that offends you so much then return to Dale and find shelter there, if that would please you," he snapped. The woman backed down and reluctantly trudged into the mountain. Bard sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life?" he groaned. Next to him, newly crowned King Dáin sighed and clapped a hand upon his arm. "You and me both, laddie," he replied.
One month on, and the reconstruction of Dale was underway. Bard did his best to help out, but found himself often relegated to simply overseeing the project and carrying out other duties such as bargaining with the elves of Mirkwood and the dwarves of Erebor to help his people get back on their feet. He also found himself receiving an alarming amount of petitions from his people, most of which were immensely trivial. "Sire, I believe someone is stealing rations from me! I demand an investigation into this! I have children to feed, you know!" screeched one particularly irritating woman. Bard sighed, leaning back in his chair. As he looked down at the woman, he noticed the slight bulges of her pockets and a trail of crumbs across her skirt. "Empty your pockets, please, Berta," he said. The woman instantly grabbed her pockets and looked up at him in alarm. Bard simply raised a dark eyebrow in warning. The woman did not move. Then, a stern voice came from behind the woman. "Your king gave you an order, you should follow it." Bard looked up to see prince Legolas and Mirkwood's captain of the guard, Tauriel, standing across from him. Berta whimpered and grudgingly emptied her pockets, revealing several slices of bread, some cheese, and two entire chunks of Lembas bread. Bard glared at the woman. "You come to me, having yourself stolen rations, so you could get yourself some more food? For you and who else? Laketown was a small world, Berta, I know for a fact you don't have children," he said coldly. "We are trying our very best to make sure everyone gets an equal supply of food, I will not tolerate people such as yourself being greedy. Do I make myself clear?" he asked. Berta nodded and sketched a deep bow.
"Yes sire, I'm sorry sire," she said, before turning on her heel and scurrying away.
When she was gone, Bard groaned and put his head in his hands. A moment later, a comforting hand was laid on his shoulder. Bard looked up then stood to greet Legolas and Tauriel. "Prince Legolas, Lady Tauriel. What brings you both here?" he asked. Instead of answering straight away, the two elves led him out of the main hall of Erebor that he was using as a temporary throne room, and back towards Dale. "What's going on?" he asked, beginning to get suspicious. Legolas smiled and gave Bard an encouraging nudge.
"You'll see soon enough," he said.
Upon arriving in Dale, Bard was instantly set upon by petitioners and workers who wanted a bit of his time, all of them clamouring around him and shouting demands and questions. “I-” Bard began, trying to answer them all at once, “Yes I know we don’t have enough stone, we’re working on it - Yes, I know - No, you can’t just - Absolutely not - No, we can’t, there’s a dragon in it - oh for the love of -”
“You look like you could use some help,” came a silvery voice from somewhere behind the rabble. The people instantly silenced and parted so that Thranduil could approach their king. Bard breathed a sigh of relief. “King Thranduil,” he said. “I am so very glad to see you.”
Thranduil raised an eyebrow in response. “You don’t say,” he began, then gestured to a party of elves behind him. “I bring aid. We’ve rescued as much healthy wood as we could carry, and we’ve enough food to share. I also offer the service of my healers, if it is needed,” he said sincerely. Bard gaped for a moment but quickly nodded his head.
“Aye, I dare say they will be. I cannot thank you enough, your majesty,” he said. Instead of brusquely brushing off the thanks as Bard had expected, Thranduil actually smiled. “It’s the least I can do. Come, the hour is getting late. Have a drink with me,” he said, gesturing back to where his tent was still pitched on the edge of the city. Bard huffed a laugh and began to walk alongside Thranduil in that direction. “Gladly,” he said, leaving a crowd of frustrated and confused people behind him.
Thranduil’s tent looked much the same as it had the last time Bard had been inside it, when the hobbit had made the fateful decision to hand over the Arkenstone. Thranduil's throne was set up against one wall, and across the way were two cots, each piled with furs and silk sheets. Thranduil steered Bard towards one and sat him down. "Please, sit. You look like you need it," he said, before turning to pour two glasses of wine. Bard tiredly smiled to himself and groaned once again into his own hands. He jolted when Thranduil's hand brushed against his, and he accepted a glass of wine from the elvenking gratefully. Even more grateful was he for the fact that the elvenking sat down beside him, leaning back on one hand. Thranduil gave Bard an amused look. "Now I'm wondering if that's how I looked when I took over my father's throne," he pondered. Bard snorted and downed half his glass of wine. "What, tired? Frustrated? Like you hadn't slept in a month?" he responded.
Thranduil frowned. "Is that how you feel?" he asked.
Bard sighed, staring down into his glass. "That and more. I feel like I haven't had any time to myself, nor any time to grieve. I lost so many people, good people. And my children, I've had so little time to spend with them," he said. "I've been put in this position that I never asked for and people are expecting so much of me, and yet I... I feel like a failure. I feel like I'm letting people down. I feel like I've let my wife down, too... I've barely had time to grieve for her since I became king," he explained, before draining the rest of his glass. He nodded his thanks as Thranduil refilled it. The elvenking tipped his head to one side, silvery hair flowing over his shoulders. "Believe it or not, I... understand how you feel," he began. "It was completely overwhelming to me, too, at the time. The only things that helped me get through the first few difficult years was my wife, and then my son. My wife passed away not long after he was born, so I had to raise him as well as be a king. Truthfully, it took me a long time to recover, but it doesn't have to be that way for you," he admitted. Thranduil sighed. "I was alone, and I had few people around to support me and help me to deal with my grief. I won't see that happen to a friend. I... am here. For you. If you want me to be," he said.
For a moment, Bard simply stared at the elvenking. He had never seen this gentler side of the elf before, but he found that he liked it. Something in his heart seemed to flutter, a feeling that he hadn't felt in many years. Bard smiled. "Thank you, Thranduil. I would like nothing more," he said honestly. Thranduil's lips curled up into a half smile, and he reached forward to brush a hair away from Bard's brow. "I am glad," he replied. "I... want to help you. I know this may seem absurd but, I've found myself... caring, about you. More than I've cared for most people in a long time," he confessed. Bard's breath hitched and his eyes widened in confusion.
"Why me? I am nothing special," he said.
Thranduil shrugged half-heartedly. "You are to me. It's not every day an ordinary man slays a dragon and goes on to be a good king," he said.
Bard laughed. "I'm hardly a good king. I don't know what I'm supposed to do half the time!"
"You haven't let your victory over the wyrm get to your head. That's more than most can say. Besides, I saw you just now. Even though you were tired, you tried to help all of those people who demanded your attention. Bad kings don't do that," Thranduil replied softly.
For a moment, Bard sat frozen, considering Thranduil's response. But his pondering was cut short when Thranduil gently cupped the side of his face, tilting his head to face him. His thumb brushed tenderly against Bard's cheekbone. "You know how you can be a great king?" the elf asked quietly. Bard stared at him for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. "Not really, no. How?" he asked, leaning into the touch of the elvenking. Thranduil gave Bard a knowing smile, as if he should've known the answer already.
"You must learn to delegate," he said gently. "You cannot possibly and reasonably take this all on by yourself. I can help you, if you'd let me," he said.
Bard huffed a laugh and smiled. "I would be thrilled to," he admitted. With that, Thranduil slowly leaned in and Bard closed the distance, pressing his lips to the elvenking's in a tender kiss. Immediately, he could feel some of the stress and worries of being king start to fall away. All Bard could think about was the feeling of Thranduil's soft lips against his own, and the way the elf's silvery-blonde hair felt around his fingers.
Eventually, Bard pulled away with a pleased sigh. "If that is what delegating with you looks like, then I'll gladly learn," he said. Thranduil chuckled and kissed him again, nipping Bard's bottom lip for good measure. "Good. We can start properly delegating things in the morning. For now, you must rest," Thranduil said. Bard nodded in agreement and stood, offering his hand to help Thranduil up. The elvenking took it, and Bard smiled up at him. "I must get home, my children are waiting. Will you walk with me?" he asked.
Thranduil smirked. "Anything to keep anyone from bothering you when you want to go home, hm?" he asked.
Bard laughed. "Something like that," he admitted. He then glanced away, almost shyly. "I suppose it's too much to ask if you will stay the night?" he asked.
To his surprise, Thranduil smiled and gently took his hand. "Not at all. I will do so, gladly," he replied.
Bard winked at him. "Just to keep an eye on me, of course," he joked.
Thranduil responded with an answering smirk. "Of course."