vix_spes

Bard heard the grumbling the second that he stepped out of the dressing room that he shared with several other dancers in the corps and just knew that Thranduil had been on the rampage. Apparently, he had been abrupt to some of the members of the corps and downright rude to others when it came to their dancing abilities. Bard was far from surprised. As much as he loved Thranduil – and he really did -, he would be the first person to admit that Thranduil was abrasive at best and a complete bastard at worst. Especially on opening night.

The problem was that, whilst everyone else thought that Thranduil had been made principal at such a young age simply because of who his parents were; the age-old tradition of nepotism being alive and well in the arts. Bard knew the facts; that nothing could be further from the truth. In reality, Thranduil had worked harder than anybody else, pushing him beyond his limits and his endurance time and time again because he was held to the standards of his parents, trying desperately to prove that he was worthy of the roles that he was given on his own merit.

And he was, he really and truly was. There was a reason that, after only eighteen months in the company, Thranduil had been promoted to principal while Bard was languishing in the corps and would be for the foreseeable future. Thranduil Oropherion was one of those dancers who only came along once in a generation, a dancer whose technique and artistry were completely unparalleled and had nothing to do with his parentage beyond the fact that they had recognised it and allowed it to flourish. With his latest role as Des Grieux in Manon, Thranduil was being touted as possibly the best male dancer in British history and, as far as Bard was concerned, they were right. He might be biased given that Thranduil was his lover, but Bard never failed to get goose bumps when he watched Thranduil dance.

It was patently obvious to Bard that Thranduil’s rudeness simply existed to hide his insecurities and his nerves, not to mention the fact that he’d spent more time alone in a ballet studio as a child than with other people. Then again, ever since they’d been paired together for their final choreography/performance project at the Royal Ballet School, Bard had made a practice of being able to read Thranduil like a book. The other members of the company would learn, just as Bard had, but in order for that to happen then Thranduil needed to let them in and, well … Bard was working on it.

Slipping into Thranduil’s dressing room just as the final announcement came over the tannoy, Bard watched his lover making his last few adjustments in the mirror.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the company, this is your beginners call for Act One. Beginners to the stage please. Mr Oropherion, Mr Galadhon, Miss Finarfin. Standby stage management and technical staff.”

As the announcement tailed off, Bard crossed the room and pressed a kiss to Thranduil’s lips, being careful not to mess up his make-up or ruffle his costume. “Merde, love. I’ll see you after the show.”