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People may not like Thranduil in some ways and Bard understood that - he was often not the most personable elf around.
The elvenking was arrogant and distant, he didn't have the time or the will to be polite in excess and he was known to be... cutting, in occasion. If the situation called for it, though, he was perfectly capable of showing the most perfect of manners but, that wasn't often the case.
He was mostly... icy. (Not always, though, Bard knew. He just had to like you, which was a really high bar)
Still, whichever your issues with him might be, there was never a complaint that Thranduil was a bad king, or that he didn't care for the wellbeing of his people. He was always careful to make the choices that would protect his citizens the most and always brokering deals that would benefit them.
Mirkwood elves had felt listened to, safe and taken into account under Thranduil's rule, which wasn't something that had happened with some of the previous kings. But he cared. He cared a lot.
And when there was a battle, not only was he down there with everyone else, but he was also there afterwards, checking on the wounded, honouring the dead and helping their families through this difficult moment. Thranduil knew perfectly what grief felt like and he wanted his elves to know that they weren't alone.
He could be gentle to those closest to him, or those in need of some comforting. Thranduil may not be a lot of things, but he was a good king and had learned to be an even better one throughout the centuries.
He knew when to be there and when to disapear, when not participating in something would be considered cowardly or siding with the enemy - learned how many people to send to conflicts and how many healers for them - learned how to bring them back, the ones alive and the ones that weren't.
Learned what words of comfort could be said that helped the most, managed to make his eyes just a tiny bit warmer for them. Thranduil may be a block of ice for the world in general, but his people were always a different story.
He would always be there for them and the elves knew that even they may not agree with their king's decisions, he always took them with their best interests in mind. And that he always thought things through and that he was always very involved in any causes that may concern them.
That was something they could rely on, they could rely on him. Thranduil even occasionally listened to individual issues people might have, occasionally did some "tours" where he went through the different villages and solved issues with his kingly authority. That was another way in which he got his people to trust him, by being present - not for anyone else, but for them, always.
But of course, such hands-on ruling did take a toll sometimes, which was something that Thranduil would never ever admit.
Bard had met with him after another of his journeys through the lands, where he had seen the state of work for all sorts of guilds, allocated ressources for those who needed them, praised some workers, checked on the scholars and funded music and dressmaking for the foreseeable future, while aslo mediating in some long-running feuds.
Now that he was back, he'd once again called on Bard for a "strategic meeting" which was basically code for "let's catch up". Which Bard loved, if he was honest. He did love his family and his people but an occasional trip to the woods never hurt anyone.
He loved the green, the beautiful people, the dellightful food and drinks and of course, Thranduil. Did it sometimes feel... weird, being bfriends with someone so grand and regal who had been alive for probably thousands of years? Yeah, it did.
But for some reason, with him Thranduil wasn't this mighty and frightening force - he was just a fellow ruler and a fellow widower dad, with all that it entailed. So yeah, Bard had been looking forward to meeting up with his friend, but now that he was there... something was off.
Thranduil's piercing eyes who usually looked at Bard in a way that felt like it could see inside you it was so intense were now unfocused, tired and closing a bit too often. Bard wouldn't have been able to tell you if the Elvenking blinked at all, but now he was doing it often.
"Pardon my asking, but are you quite all right?"
He asked when he even noticed (it had to be an hallucination, right) the elvenking almost stumble as he was getting some more wine. Thranduil would never stumble he was grace and perfection in each step.
"I will not deny that I am a bit weary after the last weeks... and months... but I assure you, it is nothing to concern yourself about."
And yet Bard was concerning himself, because this was very uncharacteristic of Thranduil. Elves were supposed to be this amazing everlasting creatures, immune to age and sickness and that was literally what his friend had been the time they'd known each other.
But now... his skin felt two or three shades too pale, he was breathing and blinking too much and there was something in all of him that felt... drained. Bard didn't like that. He concerned himself.
Still, Thranduil insisted that it was nothing and soon distracted Bard with conversation. For a while it seemed like nothing was wrong. Maybe Bard had been imagining things, maybe it wasn't that bad.
But then, when they were going to go to dinner, something really went wrong with Thranduil, his knees buckled and Bard had to get closer and hold him so that he wouldn't hit the floor.
"Thranduil! No, no, no, wake up, Thranduil! Open your eyes!"
But nothing happened, there was no movement. A complete set of beautiful white haired elf lay there in his arms, limp as a ragdoll, unresponsive no matter how many times he called his name.
"Thranduil, come on, open your eyes for me, won't you. Come back."
But nothing was happening and Bard didn't know what to do about it and aaaaaah.
Still. He'd known his friend for a while, he probably didn't want to make a fuss, didn't want his people to worry about him. Bard breathed deeply took Thranduil in a bridal carry (he figured Thranduil would be heavier, tall as he was. Maybe it was an elf thing) and started taking him back to his rooms.
(Yes, he was not supposed to know where those were. But he knew. He'd been there. People might judge but Thranduil would not care)
Bard did care, though.
He'd been hoping that his friend would wake up in the way to his bedroom and explain what had happened quickly and cleanly and take some tonic or something that would make him perfectly well again. But that did not happen.
Thranduil remained unconscious the whole way and didn't react when Bard oh so gently and oh so carefully (he was dealing with something with something inestimable here. someone treasured and beloved, if maybe not by many) placed him on his bed.
He didn't really know what he should do, so he just went outside and told one of the guards to brings a healer. That made sense, right? It wasn't making a big fuss but someone should be looking at Thranduil.
"Will you not wake up? I wanted to talk with you a bit more."
Nothing. Bard didn't like that, Thranduil was supposed to be the one presence in his circle that he didn't need to worry about. He was supposed to be practically invulnerable but he looked quite vulnerable in that bed, still like the dead, breathing sounding laboured and heavy. Was this even the first time Bard had heard the elvenking breathe. What was going on?
The healer came by quite quickly and fortunately didn't question Bard's presence there or ask him to leave. He just checked some things and asked for something to be brought.
Bard just looking at him with questioning eyes, not sure if he was allowed to ask about the king's health, but really wanting (needing) to know.
"He just has exhausted himself these past few days... and weeks. It will pass in a few hours and with some rest and some remedies he should get his energy back soon."
"It will pass? So you know that, this has happened before?" Bard asked, trying not to ask as out-of-his-mind with worry as he was.
"It is... not uncommon."
Oh shit, it happened often? The healer continued.
"We are very grateful that our king is so involved in all of our matters, but sometimes there is a cost for him - he spends weeks barely eating or sleeping and it has a cost."
Bard looked at his friend, sad. He knew that Thranduil wanted all his subjects to feel cared for and that his own losses had made him particularly sensitive to loss in general, but he hadn't known just how deep his devotion went.
A bit too deep, clearly.
And all this previous times, did Thranduil have no one with him? Just healers and guards under his employ, no one to really tell him not to stretch himself so thin? Unacceptable.
The healer received whatever he had asked for (some sort of reddish liquid) and explained that it was supposed to replenish Thranduil's lost strength.
"But this is not a matter you need to concern yourself with, your-"
"Well, I will. Concern myself. I am already concerning myself and there is no one that will stop me in that."
Bard stayed and he concerned himself. Thranduil did so much for others and then... his boy was who knew where, all these... fellow elves always kept their distance. Someone should be concerning themselves.
When after a few hours Thranduil's familiar eyes opened, he was still there. Thranduil seemed fairly embarrassed about the whole thing but Bard insisted that he was glad to be there, glad to help, glad that he could give a bit to someone who had given so much.
He stayed in Thranduil's room, talking, reminiscing and later making sure the king slept.
He would concern himself, this time and every other time.