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The first time he saw him it was like looking at the stars. So incredibly beautiful but so far away. Still he was drawn to him, walking through lines of elves, who made a pathway for him. Thranduil was utterly elegant on his giant stag, clad in silver robes. Next to Thranduil he felt dirty, small and ugly. He stood there still covered in grime, smelling like smoke. Smoke of the fire burning his home down. He couldn't let desperation overcome him. He had his people to look after, his kids. No, Bard was a man of actions and not words. In this matter he and the elf were similar. However, that was the only thing, Bard thought.

I have to speak up. "My Lord Thranduil, we did not look to see you here." The elven lord did not show any emotion as he spoke "I heard you needed aid." Thranduil turned and looked at a wagon rolling forward. Bard couldn't believe his eyes as he saw all the food and drink on it. His people -who curiously came forward- started cheering. Bard wanted to join them. We are saved. He felt a burden lift from his heart. The worries of how to feed his people were gone. Deep gratefulness overcame the man. He noticed that the elven lord was watching the scene with a still indifferent face. He probably doesn't realize what this means to us. How close we were to starving. We -I- will never be able to repay this favour., Bard thought, deciding to approach him. "You have saved us! I do not know how to thank you!" To his surprise Thranduil did not accept his gratitude so easily. “Your gratitude is misplaced. I did not come on your behalf.”

Startled, the man noticed how cold the elf’s voice had turned. For a second he thought it was turned against him until he saw Thranduil looking at the mountain. Now a very slight disdain was showing on the king’s face. Bard was about to ask as the king continued “I came to reclaim something of mine.” This Bard could understand. Still, what could be so important that Thranduil himself showed up? Followed by his entire army? The man never heard that the elven king had many desires nor that he had much emotion for anything or anyone. Thranduil was still looking at the mountain in vain. “There are gems in this mountain that I too desire. White gems of pure starlight.” Of course. What was more dear to elves than stars? However, Bard had another problem. Thorin owed him too. The king under the mountain owed him his home. Would he keep his promise? If not he did not see a future for his people. Thranduil’s mercy would probably be worn out soon. As lost in thoughts as he was he hadn’t noticed that Thranduil’s troops had started to march out of Dale.

Bard ran after him. He didn’t want a war about gold and jewelry. Too much has been lost already. “Wait! Please, wait! You would go to war over a handful of gems?” The elf’s face turned cold while still being emotionless. Bard hadn’t thought that could be possible “The heirlooms of my people are not lightly forsaken.” Yes, Bard got that. He would also fight for everything belonging to his people. But war? Surely there had to be another way. A way to get both his people and the elves everything which was rightfully belonging to them. “We are all allies in this. My people also have a claim upon the riches in that mountain. Let me speak with Thorin!” The man thought he could see a little bit of interest in Thranduil’s face. “You would try to reason with a dwarf?” Bard couldn’t believe this. The king chose war over swallowing a little bit of his pride? “To avoid war? Yes!” Thranduil slowly nodded “So shall it be. Bring a horse!” The bowman couldn’t believe his eyes as a soldier led a stunning white stallion to them. He felt as if he was being watched and found Thranduil looking at him. The interest on his face was showing a bit more. “For you. Take it.” The smooth voice left him feeling uneasy. “I… I can’t… That’s too much. I could never… pay for this.” Thranduil looked a little amused. “He is a gift.” Bard shook his head “Still… I can’t accept it.” If the king felt offended he didn’t show it. “Then as a loan… for now.” The man knew he could and would never accept it but he didn’t argue. “Alright… I will talk to Thorin.”

As he galloped towards the mountain he was amazed by the horse’s rhythm. The gentleness of his pace. On his back he felt like he was flying. The short feeling of freedom was over though as he saw Thorin's grim face. “Hail Thorin, son of Thrain! We are glad to find you alive beyond hope.” Bard did not lie. He truly was glad. The dragon may have destroyed his city and the dwarfs were responsible for it - even if they didn’t mean to. But still the bowman knew what the dragon could do and part of him still didn't believe the dwarfs to be alive until he saw them so. Even if he hated to admit it, it was also to a large part to get the gold they were owed and that they needed to build them a new home. His newly restored hope was shattered almost immediately. Thorin was paranoid, it seemed like he went mad. Even though he agreed to come down he never was truly listening. The king under the mountain behaved like a cornered animal - beyond any logic. Bard couldn’t help himself as he felt more angry than scared as heard Thorin’s final words “Be gone, ere arrow fly!” He slapped the stone hard before riding back to Thranduil. The feeling of flying was gone.

Thranduil already awaited him. Was that worry on his face? The bowman gritted his teeth “He will give us nothing.” The king next to him stared at the mountain “Such a pity.” Then he turned to Bard “Still, you tried.” Was he trying to comfort him? He oddly felt a little bit so. But a war was about to follow. He felt desperate at that thought. So much destruction. So much pain. “I don’t understand -Why? Why would he risk war?” His voice sounded desperate too. Thranduil looked at him with sympathy. “It is fruitless to reason with them. They understand only one thing.” Bard’s stomach turned. That couldn’t be true, right? The elven lord pulled out his sword and stared at it for a moment. He called out “We attack at dawn! Are you with us?” Of course. Thranduil turned his stag to get back to Dale. The man set to follow him but not without a last look at the mountain. Why?

The rest of the day Bard spent with his people, preparing for war. They barely had any weapons. Well, they barely had anything at all. He watched troops of elves marching by while supervising the people of Laketown sharpening swords. He spent some time wandering around, lost in thought. And he had to admit, watching out for Thranduil. The elven king didn’t judge him for his hate of war - even seemed to understand him. Though it was clear he thought differently. Suddenly he heard “Who is in charge here?” Interesting… He spoke up “Who is asking?” A tall man, clad in grey with a pointy hat stood there.

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“You must set aside your petty grievances with the dwarves. War is coming! The cesspits of Dol Guldur have been emptied. You are all in mortal danger!” Bard stared at the wizard before exchanging a look with Thranduil. The elf sighed annoyed. The man had heard tales and legends of Gandalf the Grey. But the man before him looked tired, exhausted even, and a little bit desperate. Besides, what did he mean? Dol Guldur? Who was coming? “What are you talking about?” Before Gandalf could answer, Thranduil stood up “I can see you know nothing about wizards. They are like a winter thunder on a wild wind rolling in from a distance, breaking hard in alarm. But sometimes a storm is just a storm.” The king filled two cups with wine, giving one to Bard. The elf became more and more confusing to the man. He was cold and arrogant towards anyone, only seemed interested in himself. And still he looked after Bard, never looked down on him. Gandalf, on the contrary, became more and more agitated. 

“Not this time. Armies of orcs are on the move. And these are fighters! They have been bred for war. Our enemy has summoned his full strength.” The bowman couldn’t help himself but wonder. Maybe Thranduil was wrong and Gandalf right? The elven king was so blinded by the heirlooms of his people he may not be willing to see an even bigger danger. Gandalf sounded very sincere. “Why show his hand now?” The king still sounded very sure about himself. And yet the wizard’s explanation was very plausible again. “Because we forced him! We forced him when the company of Thorin Oakenshield set out to reclaim their homeland. The dwarves were never meant to reach Erebor. Azog, the Defiler, was sent to kill them. His master seeks control of the mountain. Not just for the treasure within, but for where it lies, its strategic position.”, while Gandalf talked he had led them outside, staring at the mountain. “This is the gateway to reclaiming the lands of Angmar in the north. If that fell kingdom should rise again, Rivendell, Lothlorien, the Shire, even Gondor itself will fall!” Bard flinched at that. He lost his home and didn’t wish that upon anyone else. And yet a war like this was unimaginable. “These orc armies you speak of, Mithrandir - where are they?” The bowman looked at Thranduil with an incredulous look on his face. Did the king still refuse to listen to the wizard’s words? Mithrandir just huffed. He seemed to look for something in the elven lord’s face. Whatever it was he didn’t seem to find it because shortly after he left and went back to the tent, leaving Bard and Thranduil behind. 

The bowman couldn’t help himself but look at the elf. “Do you really believe that there are no orc armies?”, he asked quietly. Actually he wanted Thranduil to deny it, to reassure him that there wasn’t an even greater danger than the war that laid ahead of them. The king’s face was expressionless as he looked back at him. Their eyes met. “I do. The orcs have been quiet for a time that even for elves felt long. And to gather this strength wouldn’t have gone unnoticed. I don’t believe you need to worry.” Did he say this to calm me? I can’t tell… Bard hoped to find the truth in Thranduil’s eyes. The blue didn't do anything else than overwhelm him. “Alright.”, he didn’t like how hoarse his voice sounded. The man took a deep breath, willing to calm himself. He had to stay strong. Too much depended on it. The king’s expression softened a bit. “Do not fret. You will need your strength tomorrow.”, he sounded almost gentle now. “If you will excuse me now. I have to convince a wizard that his worries are unnecessary.”, so he went back inside the tent, leaving Bard with his confusing emotions behind. 

The human didn’t know what to make of the Lord of the Wooden Realm but he would do his best to prepare his people, making his way through whetstones and people everywhere. At least their mood wasn’t that bad. Being full of food from the elves and having hope to get to the gold that rightfully belonged to them. Also Bard found the ruins of Dale were in a much better shape then he could have imagined. They provided a good shelter. He helped here and there sharpening swords, showing how to shoot an arrow and looking after his kids. He was fine, really he was until he heard his name being called. Well, not his name but “You, Bowman! Do you agree with this? Is gold so important to you? Would you buy it with the blood of dwarves?!”

Bard felt a little intimidated by the wizard’s passion. Also he felt slightly offended. Did Gandalf actually believe he would choose gold over someone’s life? Looking him firmly in the eyes, Bard defended himself. “It will not come to that. This is a fight they cannot win.” He was right, wasn’t he? Surely Thorin must see reason soon and not risk his people's life. “That won’t stop them. You think the dwarves will surrender - They won’t. They will fight to the death to defend their own.”

Both he and Gandalf turned at the voice. That must be a Hobbit. But what was a Hobbit doing so far away from home?, Bard thought. The wizard looked happy though. Did they know each other? “Bilbo Baggins.” Suddenly the Hobbit grinned back. They did know each other. 

When they led Bilbo back into the tent, Thranduil didn’t seem that happy to see the Hobbit. Did they know each other, too? “If I’m not mistaken, this is the halfling who stole the keys to my dungeons from under the nose of my guards.” Bilbo looked very uncomfortable as he stared at his feet. “Yes”, he muttered, “Sorry about that.” Bard allowed himself to smirk a little. The king just looked so offended. But the hobbit continued, stepping forward while taking something out of his bag, “I came...to give you this.” He unwrapped the package. This.. this couldn’t be! There was no way. Thranduil rose from his chair. Now he looked completely incredulous. But it was real. In their midst laid the Arkenstone. The bowman rose too. He had to get closer to believe, so he didn’t even notice how near he was to the king until it was too late. However, the king didn’t seem to notice - for the moment - as he spoke “T he heart of the mountain! The King’s Jewel.” Bard finished the sentence without a second thought, “And worth a king’s ransom. How is this yours to give?” 

Bilbo sounded very secure, “I took it as my fourteenth share of the treasure.” Out of the corner of his eyes, Bard could see Gandalf smiling slightly. He still couldn’t believe it. “Why would you do this? You owe us no loyalty.” That was true. He hadn’t even known the hobbit before today and Thranduil didn’t seem exactly kind of him. “I’m not doing it for you. I know that dwarves can be obstinate and pigheaded and difficult, suspicious and secretive…with the worst manners you can possibly imagine, but they are also brave and kind...and loyal to a fault. I’ve grown very fond of them, and I would save them if I can.” At the end of Bilbo’s little speech Bard had to look down. It seemed like the dwarves weren’t the only one loyal to a fault. The hobbit wasn’t done yet, “Thorin values this stone above all else. In exchange for its return, I believe he will give you what you are owed. There will be no need for war.” The bowman lifted his head to find Gandalf watching him and Thranduil. The hobbit was right. This could solve everything without war. What was the king thinking? 

Bard turned to look at him. After a moment Thranduil made eye contact with him. In his blue eyes stood as much question as Bard felt in his heart. 

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Gandalf left with the hobbit, talking about finding him some food and a bed for the night. Bard was alone with Thranduil and the Arkenstone between them. “Thorin will not be happy.”, Bard knew he was understating things. Thorin would be furious. The elven king sat down again, “No, he will not. The hobbit has spoken the truth. He may not give up with a fight. Another cup of wine?” The human normally did not drink wine, he simply couldn’t afford it. This evening though everything was different. He had to lead his men into battle tomorrow, “Yes, please.” Thranduil wordlessly refilled his cup. The silence remained as both of them sat next to each other, lost in thoughts. Bard was stressed out about tomorrow's battle plans, even more so since his children were staying in the city. He had thought about bringing them to safety but the next town was miles away and even if he did manage to bring them there he would have had to leave them on their own. No, here was the safest spot for them even though he didn’t like it.

“What troubles you so deeply?” Thranduil’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. Those icy blue eyes were watching him intensely. At first Bard wanted to lie, to assure that everything was fine but somehow those eyes didn’t let him. “My children will be in the city tomorrow… I’m worried for their safety so close to the battlefield.” Those eyes were still looking at him, the human felt them deep in his soul. Thranduil nodded slowly, “I see. Your worry is understandable. Tomorrow a war will start but it could also end tomorrow. Thorin has neither the manpower nor the provisions to last long. Besides, my army will stand between the mountain and the city and therefore your children.” Yet again Bard felt comforted by the king’s word. He was right. The war could hardly be called a war, Thorin stood with 12 dwarves against an elven army. In addition they had the Arkenstone. He looked at the small shiny jewel on the table. Maybe it could change everything and there would be no necessity to fight. Still a small part of him worried deeply. 

“I did not succeed in taking away your worries.”, it was not a question but much more of a statement. “I… You did. It’s just that a part of me can’t stop worrying.” He didn’t know if Thranduil was that much concerned. Bard knew he had children but they were older than a human could ever imagine. Besides, Thranduil’s children were skilled fighters while Tilda was scared of fighting. The king observed him “I take that you raised them alone.” How did the king of the Wooden Realm know that? “Yes… my wife died at my youngest birth. It was a hard winter.” Now the elf was looking into the distance behind the entry of the tent. He didn’t say anything for a while. “The gems of Lasgalen. Thorin refuses them to return. The dwarves created jewelry from them. As a gift for my wife.” Bard’s eyes widened. Thranduil’s wife was a topic nobody ever talked about, especially not in front of the king for he refused to speak about her. There were myths and legends around her story and nobody knew what exactly happened. Calathiel died a hero as she fought against orcs in Gundabad. The circumstances would probably never be revealed. And now Thranduil was talking about her. With him. Bard didn’t know what to say but that didn’t matter as the king continued “It is told about those gems that Varda - the lady of the stars - released some of the dew from Telperion to fall onto the earth as she kindled the stars. It dropped down onto the trees of Mirkwood - for the elves to keep and care for. They are a symbol of hope and beyond any measure valuable for us.” The human was still staring. He was so wrong. He thought the whole time Thranduil only cared about their material worth and was starting a war for that. But those gems were so much more. Before he could find a good answer, a guard came in, “Your majesty, the general awaits you for a meeting.” Thranduil nodded, his face, softened from the conservation, became indifferent again. He turned to Bard “Excuse me but stay as long as you want.”, with that he left. The man still sat there, thinking about the conversation. Why did Tranduil trust him? After a while he left, looking for his children to watch over them for the night. 

The dawn brought a clear and cold morning. This time Bard just accepted the white stallion without any protesting. Thranduil for whatever reason looked satisfied at that. Together they rode towards the mountain, the king on his giant elk in the middle of the elven army. 

An arrow to the hooves of Thranduil’s stag greeted them. They halted in surprise. Thorin didn’t waste a second to draw another one. “I will put the next one between your eyes.” The dwarves behind him started cheering while Bard couldn’t help himself but stiffen. He hated the haunted and mad look in Thorin’s eyes. Was the king under the mountain truly beyond any reason? However, Thranduil’s face was indifferent next to him but as he tilted his head slightly the elven army also drew their bows, aiming at the dwarves. The cheering stopped immediately as the dwarves ducked behind the ramparts. Only one remained standing. Thorin, bow still drawn. The kings held eye contact. After a few seconds Thranduil raised his hand, his army followed his commands immediately, putting their bows away. Bard watched as Thorin still remained tense with the bow in his hands. “ We’ve come to tell you: payment of your debt has been offered...and accepted.” 

The man would have sworn there was a little smirk playing around the elven king’s lips. At the elf’s confidence Thorin grew more frantic. “What payment? I gave you nothing! You have nothing!”, he spat. Thranduil looked slightly amused at this as he turned to Bard. The bowman still couldn’t believe the elf trusted him with something of this importance. The Arkenstone shone in the rising sunlight, even the humans and the elves couldn’t deny its beauty. He held it high so Thorin could see the only thing he seemed to care about now. “We have this.” Bard was glad that his voice didn’t waver. Thorin looked frozen in shock, he didn’t say anything. He did put away the bow though. A dwarf beside him started shouting, “They have the Arkenstone? Thieves! How came you by the heirloom of our house? That stone belongs to the king!” Kili, Bard remembered, the one he sheltered when he was dying from that arrow wound. “And the king may have it - in our good will.” With a lightness which he didn’t really feel, he threw the Arkenstone in the air, catching it. Bard decided to put it away again, not liking the look on Thorin’s face and fearing he may do something rash like shooting that arrow. So he got serious again. “But first he must honor his word.” 

High above them Thorin started to whisper to himself, his madness increasing steadily since he saw the Arkenstone - in the hands of his enemies. “THE ARKENSTONE IS IN THIS MOUNTAIN! IT IS A TRICK!”, he yelled. The bowman watched in horror as suddenly Bilbo stepped up, putting himself directly in front of Thorin’s anger. How could this be? The hobbit should be in Dale, in safety. Next to him Thranduil stiffened, the elf seemingly had thought the same. Now they  could only watch as Bilbo talked, not even hearing the words. Thorin grew even more agitated, walking towards the hobbit. Only the king under the mountain’s furious screams could be heard, calling the halfling a miserable rat. Bilbo still remained calm. Thranduil and Bard couldn’t make out any words until “You are changed, Thorin! The dwarf I met in Bag End would never have gone back on his word! Would never have doubted the loyalty of his kin!” Through all his calmness they could hear the betrayal, the anger but also the concern and the affection Bilbo still seemed to hold for Thorin in his voice. 

The dwarf was unmoved by the hobbit’s speech though. He moved forwards, spitting words Bard could not hear. But then they could hear clearly “Throw him from the rampart!” Terror gripped the bowman tightly, yet there was nothing he could do. He didn’t know the hobbit for long but was impressed by his kindness and his loyalty for the dwarves - Thorin especially. 

Above them the rest of the dwarves were as shocked as everyone else, including Bilbo. Nobody moved. Thorin seemed surprised that nobody obeyed him, he looked around wildly. Finally he settled on Fili, his other sister son, the bowman remembered. The dwarven king grabbed Fili’s arm tightly and pulled him along. “DO YOU HEAR ME?!” Fili struggled for a moment but managed to shake his uncle off. He looked terrified of his uncle’s anger. To his luck Thorin let him go. Instead he lunged forward and grabbed Bilbo. “I will do it myself!”. For a moment the dwarves still seemed frozen. “CURSE YOU!”, their king’s shout at Bilbo awakened them though. “No!” Fili found his courage again, still even with the help of the other dwarves, he could do nothing. The king's strength was driven by his madness as he dragged Bilbo towards the edge. Loudly he suddenly started to curse Gandalf, “Cursed be the Wizard that forced you on this Company!” 

To be honest Bard had kinda forgotten that an entire army and the reason why they were here as he watched the intense scene above him helplessly. So the loud, booming voice behind them startled him even more. “IF YOU DON’T LIKE MY BURGLAR…”  Gandalf’s voice was reinforced by magic, making Thorin pause. The elven army behind Bard and Thranduil split and a disheveled Gandalf appeared, striding forward to stand between them. “Then please don’t damage him. Return him to me!” The dwarven king still didn’t move but also hadn’t let go of Bilbo. “You’re not making a very splendid figure as king under the mountain, are you? Thorin son of Thrain!”, continued Gandalf . Bard frowned, what did Gandalf try to do? Distract Thorin or anger him even more? Whatever it was, it worked. The dwarven king was so focused on Gandalf that he let Bilbo go. “Never again will I have dealings with wizards...” Bard watched relieved as Bilbo escaped and climbed down the rope he used to get up there. “Or Shire-rats!” Thorin spat those last words.

 As he now knew Bilbo in safety, the bowman dared to speak up again. “Are we resolved? The return of the Arkenstone for what was promised.” He truly hoped Thorin would take the deal and there could be peace. The king under the mountain didn’t give an answer immediately but looked into the distance if he could find it there. Bard frowned, “Give us your answer! Will you have peace or war?”, he called out urgently. Please say yes and let all of this be over. Thorin looked down like he had given up. The bowman didn’t dare to hope. Maybe a little bit of the dwarf he was is left…  But suddenly a raven landed next to Thorin, looking at the dwarven king. He turned his head to them then and he also would have screamed, so clearly Bard could hear the quiet words. Words that shattered all of his hope. “I will have war.” and with that the king, who had fallen into madness, looked to the east again. 

Suddenly the ground trembled and a noise loud as thunder could be heard. In the rising red sun they marched. The hope and the promise the new day held were shattered by rattling shields and spears held high. The last hit delivered by Gandalf, himself, shattered all hope completely, “Ironfoot.” And Bard knew. A real war had come.