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"If they were ill received, you could claim cultural barrier I am sure." There is a hint of amusement to his voice, knowing that, no matter how alien the elves might be to men, there was more understanding in the former bargeman than in most. Though the king does notices the tension, wonders what might cause such a thing in the man when their conversation did not seem quite so... precarious.

There was something about this mortal, and just this one, that Thranduil found himself actually trying to understand. Humans were always there, things that Thranduil and his people engaged with but never truly found themselves caring for in a way beyond that of simple alliances and some more casual friendships. The looming mortality of the other race always managed to cast a shadow over everything, over all their interactions, that kept both races at a kind of border. It was not to say that the elves were hostile, or even not welcoming, it was more that they knew the faces that were before them now would be gone in a blink of an eye. Even the cities of men did not weather time well.

And yet, Thranduil found himself with the oddest inclination to ignore this looming mortality and actually, in some form, help the poor new king before him. Perhaps it was the way he had fought in the battle, the way that the spark in him seemed to burn so much brighter than those around him. Or for the love of his children. Thranduil did not know, he just knew that there was an impulse there that had not been felt in a long while. He smiles, a twitch of the mouth, at Bard's words about fighting. "You understand the desires and reasons of the mortal heart more than most, Bard. It is... refreshing."

There is a look on his face as he speaks, one that is softer than his usually look, but not entirely open. It is clear however, that he has some level of agreement (admiration?) for those words. And though Thrnaduil tries to protect the lives of those he holds dear the most, he knows that what Bard speaks is the truth. To lose someone that you love... it was not a grief easy to over come. Thranduil had now lost his wife to dragon fire and his son to the sternness of his own hand. It was time, perhaps, for the king to learn new things.. And it seemed this human might help. Though he would never say as much aloud.

"I feel it is only one of the many traits that will serve you well in your future endeavour. Though, should you need it, my council is always available." Thranduil can almost feel the eyebrows of his entourage raising at those words; he does not offer his council lightly, and rarely to ones who cannot then give something back for it. But, the king would not retract his statement. He believed, for some reason, that this king before him would be worthy of the aid he might ask for. As long as he was not too prideful to ask in the first place.

The king huffs the smallest of laughs, eyes flitting to Bard. "I daresay you are one of few that would call me kind in any manner. Do not let that notion linger for long in your thoughts, as I am bound to dismiss it eventually." Though he does wonder if he shall do so in this mortal's presence. "I daresay your speaking of mind may gain you many things, if not just the amusement of myself and my people. It is a refreshing trait, as elves are not prone to speaking before thought." there should be some admonishment in his voice, but there is none. Thranduil is genuinely amused.

"And what of my respect might intrigue you so, King Bard?" There is more curiosity seeping into his voice at that. Something about this interaction that has Thranduil intrigued and actually interested in a way that he has not been in lifetimes. The fact that Bard has to turn his face only compounds it. Perhaps there is more here than Thranduil initially thought.

"If I were smart, I would. But I am only so quick in realizing the answers a true delegate would know." Chuckling softly at that, he shook his head. "I am more earthen and honest in my words. If I am mistaken, I am mistaken." He would not try to make it simpler or of no consequence. Bard did not hide behind excuses, he preferred to learn from his mistakes and strive to do better. Even in such a confusing thing as complimenting an elven king.

Bard turned over the thought of being more understanding of the heart. Was he? No... "I do not believe it that complicated. If you love... you know. If love is lost by death or other means, then you know the greatest pain a heart could ever hope to endure. But I would not trade that feeling for a life without pain. If one understands this, the answer is simple." A moment of blinding love was more precious than a life of numbness to him. He loved his wife with all his being. He loved his children the same. He would not trade that love for the security of not knowing loss. Not in a thousand lifetimes.

Yet that look on Thranduil's face made his mind wander. It reminded him of porcelain suddenly contrasted to the soft perfection of silk. Just that slight change removed the statuesque beauty and made it soft and bright as light. Were all elves like this? Or did he look at Thranduil more closely than other elves? For a moment he nearly turned to look at the entourage that followed the king, but he did not. Why would he?

Blinking a few times out of his contemplation, he focused on the elder's words. His mind rushed and got caught up in that strange warm sensation that such an offer would tangle him up in. It took the coherent thoughts, scattering them everywhere. But it did not stop him from speaking. "I value your words and give them weight in my life... but I would only ask so much if done so in friendship." He felt like the ground opened up under him. "That is to say... I do not wish to solely take your council and not offer back, at the very least my friendship. For I am not so wise as to assume I could give back in kind."

He would treasure the wisdom of the elven king. Of that, he had no doubt. But more than anything he wanted them to be friends and not simply allies. And he could not feed off of such council... not in such a way that he gave nothing in return. But that did not mean he should have spoken so candidly either. Too bad his mouth seemed to think he was doing fine on the course it set...

"They simply do not see you." People looked on Thranduil with more fear rather than the respectful fear that he commanded. Fear and respect go hand in hand, but the fear that walked with terror was not how he felt about the king. No one's countenance could soften as his did and be unkind. Even still, he laughed just a little at himself. "Amusement. I would expect that." He must be utterly amusing to the ageless beings. It made him feel that much more unrefined. But only in their presence. "I cannot feel wrong for speaking my mind... Perhaps it is fleeting mortality, but too much is lost when something is kept in."

That is, until the king asked that question and his jaw tightened. He pleaded with his good sense not to answer that question. Part of him feared the answer himself. And he only half succeeded as he looked away. "It is yours." It said enough without disturbing his own thoughts as his heart beat a little harder. Foolish human, indeed.

"Perhaps you are smarter than you give yourself credit. The truth will always fare better than well contrived lies, no matter how well you think them to be practiced. " The elven king regarded the human out of the corner of his eyes, the small spark of respect growing. "If you are willing to learn from your mistakes, then they are not such terrible things at all, and that is a hard lesson to learn for many." He does not ask how Bard came to learn it, or if perhaps he was just one of the few who were inclined that way, but it pleases Thranduil either way.

When Bard, however, refutes his claim of the mortal heart and his knowledge of it, Thranduil turns to listen. The words do nothing but prove his own, the fact that Bard was aware of such things a rarity for sure. So many were more concerned with gold and glory, that they forgot the simpler things. Thranduil himself was not free of such flaws either, he coveted gold more than many an elf. Bard's more simplistic way of looking at this reminded him of... things that had long since been buried. "But many do not understand." The king's voice is quiet, quieter than normal, as he recalls the grief of losing his wife. It was a pain that he never though he would endure, and it was a pain that he had sworn, long ago, to never endure again. He does not know if he can agree with Bard, that knowing is better than not knowing at all. It may be different for elves, as he may never depart from this world as his wife did, may never have anything else but a lifetime of memories and the bitter taste of ash in his mouth.

The king has to shake his head, clear away the thoughts that pull him down and focus on what is at hand. It has been too long since someone has managed to evoke such things in him, and he is nearly put off kilter for a moment. He is put on even more unevevn footing when Bard, in exchange for his council, offers friendship. It was... a strange thing to offer in the eyes of the king. He certainly had not expected such a offer and, in all his years, he did not know how to accept or decline such a thing. There were many who gave their loyalty and love to the king, but precious few who gave their friendship. In fact, he was hard pressed to think of any that would fall under such a claim.

Blinking, Thranduil is silent a moment before he inclines his head, slowly. "Though it is not what I expected, I am glad to enter into a friendship rather than a political agreement, Bard." He lets the other's name hang on his tongue, blue eyes piercing as he looks up. There are so many things about this human that make him question what he believes he knows. Who thinks to ask the fearsome elven king of the woodland realm for friendship Many would say he is not capable of such things, that his heart was burned in dragon fire years ago. And yet...

They simply do not see you.

Once again, the king is left not really knowing what to do, though he does not show it. He does not answer the words that Bard speaks, instead watches the human and tries to figure out what was so different about him compared to so many of the others. He speaks with more wisdom than one of his years should be able, and yet there was still so much joy and life in him, so much fire and will to live. It intrigued the elven king greatly and made it no chore to offer his council and presence for the other. Perhaps it would be beneficial for Thranduil as well.

"It serves you well to speak your mind. You are right, as too much could be lost if it were kept in." Not that Thranduil ever followed such a thing, he was known for speaking scathingly on a whim, but little more. "It is not mortality, it is a wisdom I believe."

Wisdom and something else, though Thranduil does not know which it is that spurs the human to speak in response to his question. The elven king blinks again, watches as Bard turns away to answer and he does not linger on the emotions that momentarily rise up at that. "Is that so? You may be right, my respect is not easily won." Nor is his attention, but Bard seemed rather good at catching that as well.

Angling his head, he nodded to that. "Lies are no more than a spiders web that we get tangled in." He said that with no lightness. He imagined the master and how he lost his life in the same disgusting web he spun all his life forcing Laketown into such poverty. No one raised a hand to help him. He died alone and horridly. No less than he deserved. "I try to learn from each mistake and prevent them from ever happening again if at all possible."

His head turns in surprise at how quiet Thranduil's voice got in his response. Bard's heart hurt for a moment as he considered the lovely elven king in all his age, wisdom, power and riches. What was all of that if you lived so removed and so... alone? And to Bard, he looked alone even among his attendants. He remembered watching him in battle... how he fought with fury and pain in an elegant dance that only bore the sound of Elvish steel tearing into his foes without mercy. And for some reason, that which he found beautiful before, he found somewhat saddening now.

Clearing his throat softly, he added in a gentler sad tone. "I knew no happiness quite like the love of my wife. She was the... summer breeze that swept over the lake and refreshed our home." His smile was small and wistful as he thought of her laugh and smile and how she held their children. "Not even remembering that. Not even thinking about that... how could I regret such a beautiful thing when the three reasons I live and breathe reside in my home? I would rather death come quickly than imagine a life without my children. It is truly best to know that love and all it gave me... than to wish it never to have occurred." He ducked his head, a soft deprecating laugh escaping him. "Forgive me... I rarely speak of her. But I felt... as new friends, I may entrust such knowledge of me."

He finally looked at the elven king, a true and genuine smile pulling at his lips. "I am glad that you would rather friendship." What more could he say? He never would imagine the beautiful Sindarin to even acknowledge the offer much less accept. "Will you stay a while or just for this day?" Part of him hoped he would not simply talk about the agreements then leave.

"Wisdom?" He chuckled at that. "I do hope that I do have some wisdom to share with you." At the very least it would not feel so one sided in that. Glancing at the blonde, he gifted him with an odd gentle look. "I would think not... And should the rare event happen that I did win your respect... I would hope not." It kept the notion special in his mind. "But I would not dare to think I would garner such a thing easily or even any time soon. So... call it a lifelong goal." And hopefully in one lifetime, he would acquire even just a little of Thranduil's respect.

"There are many that would benefit from learning the same lessons as you, though most will never come close to such learnings." Their lives, Thranduil thought, might be too short to truly learn lessons, though it seemed that Bard had managed to learn one of the most important. It was good to know that the king of Dale would at least have a leader willing to learn at its helm, rather than one only searching for his own glorification. "There are enough webs to fall into in these parts, one does not need the lies of their own devising to entrap them as well."

Perhaps it was a joke, perhaps not. Either way, the tone is lost when the memories rise up in the elven king like an army of ghosts. It had been so long, and yet still not long enough for him to have forgotten what it was like to lose someone you believed you would have for an eternity. There were days when his own son was a reminder of what he had lost, a reminder of how he had failed when it mattered most, and he was a reminder of how he must protect everything he loved so much. Some might say he was too overbearing with his son, but Legolas was all that he had left that truly mattered in flesh and blood. The memories often bubbled to the surface, moreso when such topics arose, but Thranduil pushed them down with less ease than normal. He was stopped at Bard's words though, the briefest flash of surprise flickering through blue eyes when the human tells of his own loss.

It is not like the elven king to speak of his wife, or even make reference to her. It was a sore spot indeed, but he felt something of a kindred bond as Bard regales him with the reasons that he looks at the world the way he does. And, though he may not agree with Bard, still sure that loss and grief was so different for the two, he could at least understand the tiniest bit. WIth a small nod, Thranduil looks towards the ruins of Dale, face blank as he speaks. "I appreciate your trust, King of Dale. And know that you are not alone in such loss."

There would be no more on that, Thranduil surprised that he even said that much on his past, but he felt that , at the very least, Bard could understand some of his pain. Pain that he pushes down and tries to forget in the things that needed to be done. He gives a low hum before tilting his head towards the human. "I believe that we shall stay a day or two, if it is not too much difficulty. I shall have my company set up tents as I understand your city is still being constructed."

It was not necessary that he stayed the extra time, but it could certainly not hurt to ensure that they were able to go over everything necessary. The elven king also found himself oddly curious with the enigma that was Bard.

"There are things that humans will always understand in a way different than elves, I appreciate that. " Turning, Thranduil catches the odd look Bard gives him, but tries not to think on it. Instead, meeting the look with a raised eyebrow. "It is not easily won, indeed. But that does not mean it is an impossible thing to achieve. I daresay a life long goal is a bit much."

Bard had to stop and think about what the elven king said. A small smile pulled at his lips at the slight jest about webs even though he had not meant it in that way. He refused to make light of the troubles in Mirkwood, but he would not draw attention to them now either. "I shall endeavor not to make more." He winked over at the king and let the conversation move forward.

He did, however, feel guilty for bringing attention to the loss of a loved one. It seemed that his words took Thranduil back just slightly. Bard had a feeling that even a small reaction reflected a greater feelings. A small feeling likely would not show at all. And yet, he was getting a plethora of reactions so quickly. It made him feel guilty for eliciting so many emotions unintentionally.

Reaching out, he placed a hand softly on his shoulder for a very brief moment before pulling away. He knew that Thranduil had gone through this as well in a way. He would not push it further. It was there and the door was open. "Come... I think they managed to save one barrel of wine from the wreckage and I believe today is a good day to drink it."

Closing the distance to the hall, he opened the door for the elven king with a bright smile. "I welcome you. And as I said before, I would gladly offer you my own home if you would only accept it. And if not, please set up near my home and that way I can be sure to be there when you need me." It was important. Diplomatically he should give his all to their alliance. Personally, he wanted to take care of the king even if he likely did not need his care. "And when we are not talking on important matters, I would be honored to show you what we have managed to accomplish."

Chuckling in mirth, he waited till all the elves entered the hall before briskly catching up to the blonde elven lord. "I do everything with all my soul. To give only part would be an insult even if I earn it sooner than one lifetime. Please sit." He waved to the best chair at the table that was covered in fruits, cheeses and glasses for the wine.

There was little that Thranduil could do about the horrors that lurked in Mirkwood, and he was aware of that. He did what he could to keep the horrors at bay, but he refused to let them permeate all aspects of his life. The king hums, something of a smile tugging at his features as Bard has the gall to wink at him. "And I am pleased for that, it is difficult to make silk of lies." There is little more that he can say, trying to keep the tone as polite as possible, though he is pleased that Bard seems to understand the matter so well.

Even at the mention of a lost loved one, something that Thranduil never speaks of because of the pain it wrought, Bard is nothing but a gracious host. Perhaps it is because of his own share in the grief, because he understands what it is like to have a hole such as that ripped into your heart, that the king does not find the actions cheap or false. Even the hand on his shoulder does not startle the king, he is not consoled by the action, but he does feel a bond form, something that is difficult to do when there were so many walls standing in the way.

Humming at the offer of wine, the king nods. "It is a fine day to drink it, though I am hard pressed to think of days when it is not good to indulge in it." Perhaps he indulged too often, but he could not agree entirely with that. Following behind Bard, the elven king watched with something like amusement at the looks the entourage was receiving. He wondered, idly, if it would get any better the more that they visited.

The thought that they would visit more often, and that he thought such a thing so casually, struck the king as odd, making him nearly miss the welcoming from Bard. He gives a nod, lips twitching yet again at the offer. "You are a king now, Bard. If would do you no good to offer up your own place. Though the offer is appreciated. Deeply." It was a strange thing, one that the previous rulers of Dale would never have thought of, but it was this kindness, this selflessness, that made Thranduil believe that Bard would be the best leader that the city had ever seen. There was something that no amount of knowledge could ever make up for, and it was the will and the want to make others as happy as possible. And though there was worry on Thranduil's part at just how far it might go, he was prepared to ensure that the newly crowned king was not taken advantage of.

"That would suffice, we will help in whatever way we can, there are enough craftsmen in my people that can be of aid when necessary. Though we will be hard pressed in the winter months." No matter how bountiful their summers were, the winter brought with it many new ills, usually in the form of evil that lurked in the darkened wood.

The sound of Bard's laughter, as muted as it was, was a gift to Thranduil. Though he could not think of why, he tucked the sound away, nodded his head and took a seat, eyes not on the spread before him, but rather on the new king. There was much he felt he needed to understand here, and it was troublesome that he could not. "Your generosity in such times is gracious of you, let us speak of how we can be of aid."

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