Lessons In Love

A Hundred Years I Could Give To You

(Warnings: references to sexual themes)

If the Elf and the Man had expected life to be a bed of roses after their kiss of pure love by the riverside, they were gravely mistaken. Bard had tried to be patient waiting for Thranduil to explain the purpose of the pendant, but he never did.

It was one of the first crisp days after the damp autumn had turned into winter that the Dragonslayer once again entered the Woodland Realm. The trees were torn naked of their leaves and all the forest seemed to be drowsing - the only exception were the halls where the Elves thrived. This time the King of Dale was lacking something.

As the eyesight of the Elves is keen, it was easily noticed by Thranduil.

"I gave you a pendant some time ago and requested you to wear it at all times. What has come to it?" the Elvenking inquired.

"I left it at home. I don't wear jewellery," Bard replied minimizing the whole situation.

"Please correct me if I am mistaken, but I did tell you that all I ask is that you would wear it at all times," Thranduil insisted. Bard threw his arms open and allowed them to slam back against his body as a sign of frustration.

"I never promised anything."

"But I did ask you to -"

"Aye, you did," the Dragonslayer replied adopting shortly the dialect of Esgaroth. "I did not promise anything, though. Did I?"

Thranduil's expression merely changed, but he did lift his chin a little as if it would protect him from negativity.

"I cannot recall you -"

"Well, exactly. I never promised anything. And you should know by now that I don't wear jewellery. Not any kind. Maybe I would wear a wedding ring if I had one, but that is about it," Bard ranted. Thranduil parted his lips in attempt to say something, but the Dragonslayer went on. "And you never gave me any good reason to wear it. It was only your request, Thranduil. I love you. I do, but that does not make me like jewellery or my hair being braided."

"It is important that you wear it," the Elf said in the calm manner Elves tend to speak.

"Why? Thranduil, why is it important?" the Man demanded. It made Thranduil shift anxiously.

"It would be my pleasure to explain it to you, but for the time being I cannot do that."

"Of course you can't," Bard snarled. "Because there is no reason. None besides that you want me to be like your kin."

Thranduil frowned. He could not smell alcohol so he had no reason to believe Bard was drunk. Yet the Dragonslayer was clearly upset by something and the Elf could not believe the annoyance caused by the pendant was the whole truth.

"No," Thranduil replied still managing to keep his cool. "I would not try to change you. No Elf can ever become a Man nor vice versa. And they should not, Bard. I just ask you to trust my word. Please believe me when I say it is important."

"Why can't you, for once, give me a direct answer?" Bard demanded. He was frustrated, he was despairing. He felt like Thranduil was just playing around - after all the Elf had his forever to wait for 'the right moment' whereas the Dragonslayer had not. No matter what sort of heroic deeds he had committed, his years were running few. His blood was of the race of Men which had been doomed to die since the beginning. Some of them did live long, but they were not able to run from their inevitable fate forever. Unlike Elves who were young and graceful for decades.