The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings one shots and Imagines

Healer - Part 3 - Bard x Reader

Bard listened for the shadows as Tilda and (Y/n) spoke. He knew that he had left it too long. That he should have told her how he felt from the first moment that she set foot in Dale. Now (Y/n) believed that he didn't care. That he didn't love her. Yet despite that, she had still promised to remain in the city until Tilda had grown old and passed away. She still loved his children enough to remain, even though she believed that he didn't care for her in any other way than just as a friend. But she had also said that if he asked, she would surrender her immortal life. That if she was given a good enough reason, Dale would remain her home until the day she would pass, just like him. Now all he had to do was think of the right way to give her that reason. To ask her the question that he should have asked the day she rode into Dale.

If he were an elf, he was sure that he could have done something magnificent, when he asked her. That he would have arranged for the whole of Mirkwood to shine and shimmer with thousands of lights. A small musical group playing in the background as he asked her to be his bride. That he would be able to promise to love her for a thousand lifetimes. But this was not Mirkwood, it was still the tumbled down, dark and dirty Dale. And he was no elf, he was a mere mortal. And all he could promise was that he would love her for a single lifetime. But it would be a lifetime that he would fill with as much love and happiness that he could give her.

Then, a small smile came to his lips. He might not have much, but the little ramshackle home that he and the children had managed to make liveable. He may not have gold or jewels to offer her. But he did have one thing he could offer her, he had love, and he knew that that would mean more to (Y/n) than anything.

"(Y/n)?" Tilda said softly, as she snuggled back into the half-elven's embrace. Her father's ears picking up, as he wondered what his youngest child would say next.

"Yes, my sweet one?"

"Would.......would it be alright if I could call you momma, when it is just you and me? I can't really remember my real mother. And if I were to have one, I would like it to be you." The little girl continued. Bard thinking that his heart would break, as he heard his daughter's words.

"Oh, my sweet child. If ever I was fortunate enough to have a daughter. I would want her to be just like you. And if you wish, when it is just you and I, I would be more than happy for you to call me mother. For I can think of no greater thing." (Y/n) replied. Brushing away the tears that had begun to fall, as Tilda's grip on her tightened. The half-elven doubting that she would ever be fortunate enough to have children of her own. So, who better to have call her mother, than the child of the man that she loved more than life.

"Thank you..........momma." Tilda said. Her voice barely above a whisper. The young girl as caught up in the emotion of the moment, as (Y/n) and her father that was secretly listening to the conversation. Bard himself wiping away the tears that were threatening to fall. The scene cementing in his mind that he had to tell (Y/n) how he felt. How he had felt since the first moment he had seen her on one of his many journeys up the river. Since he had first summoned the courage to speak to the exquisite elleth. Since she had been able to heal his heart. The new Master of Dale knowing that he couldn't wait any longer to tell (Y/n) that he loved her. That he wanted to marry her and make her his for the rest of their lives.

"Tilda. There you are." A voice suddenly said. (Y/n) and Tilda looking up to see Bard making his way into the room. The half-elven feeling her heart pound, as she saw his handsome face. As she saw the smile that he seemed to save just for her and his children. The bowman's smile growing wider, as his daughter jumped from the elleth's lap, and made her way over to him.

"I hope that Tilda didn't disturb you, (Y/n). I..............."

"Tilda could never disturb me. It is always a delight to see her." (Y/n) interrupted. Wanting to assure Bard that she was quite happy to have Tilda come and see her anytime that she liked.

Bard couldn't help but watch the half-elven as she slowly rose to her feet. Despite the fact that her once pristine, white gown, was now grey and dirty around the hem. Despite the fact that her apron was covered in spots of blood and stains from her poultices. Despite the fact that her skin was dotted here and there with smudges of dirt, he was sure that she had never been more beautiful. More perfect. More exquisite than he had ever seen her.

"I.........was wondering if you would like to join me and the children for dinner, later. I would like to talk to you about something." Bard continued. Chuckling softly, as Tilda left his side and ran back over to the half-elven.

"Please mo......(Y/n). Please come. Sigrid can show you the new dress that she is making for my doll. Bain said that he would draw the horse of Rohan on it. Please. Please................"

"Of course. I would be delighted to come. How could I turn down the chance to see Sigrid's work? To see Bain's drawing. How could I turn down an invitation from the Master of Dale?" (Y/n) smiled. That smile growing wider, as it mirrored that of the bowman.

"Good. Then we will see you this evening, (Y/n)." Bard continued. Holding out his hand for Tilda to take. The little girl pulling the half-elven down so that she could kiss her on the cheek, before rushing to join her father. Bard giving (Y/n) one last smile before he turned to leave. The Master of Dale knowing that he didn't have too much time to bring his plan to fruition. His plan to make (Y/n) his bride.