ethuirina:

          “Is is not funny,” Thranduil notes as he carefully picks up his offer of wine, “how luck goes favorably in hand with talent and bravery?” Amusement glints his silver gaze while he sips his drink, watching King Bard over the rim. “No, it was not a victory you won on by yourself, but you alone did gather Men to fight and defend. Dale would still be in ruins had you not. It is all right for you to take some credit where credit is due.”

                One could never entirely lower one’s guard around the elven woodland king, Bard mused silently to himself as he took an extended sip from his goblet, the gesture offering him but the briefest of moments to consider his reply. Thranduil was fair - perhaps in starlit appearance more than in judgment at times – and so it was sometimes all too easy to forget the quick mind behind the exquisite features, sharpened by age. “Dale will never forget,” he spoke, a touch more carefully now. “Nor will I. If there is something you would have of me, I pray you speak openly. And so too shall I in sharing with you my willingness and ability to fulfill any such request.”