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Description
Cover Art for the Barduil fan fiction Drive by LoveActuallyFan on Archive of Our Own. Meant as a birthday present for ofplanet_earth.

Extract from 'Drive' -

Bard fiddled nervously with the edge of the plush leather steering wheel, the tips of his fingers worrying the intricate stitch work that wrapped around the perimeter. He pursed his lips, his tongue licking out to wet their chapped surface. He took to biting them when he was nervous; it had become a habit that he had no control over. His emerald-green eyes flicked to his reflection, his gaze catching its mirror image to check his appearance for the umpteenth time that day.
He looked ridiculous. The car he was driving was vintage – a restored and updated model – and apparently the uniform had to match the era of the vehicle. He wore a deep green chauffeur’s uniform that buttoned at the front with large golden buttons. The cap he wore on his head was of the old style and a pair of out-dated driving goggles sat around the brim. What he would need them for, he couldn’t fathom, though they did make him appear rather dapper. The green of the uniform brought out the colour of his eyes and the hat lent him an official air. Though still, in his mind, he looked absolutely absurd.
When he had heard that he had landed the job he could not believe it. The interview hadn’t gone as smoothly as he would have liked, and he had attempted a lame joke to endear himself to the interviewer. He had gotten the distinct impression that it had not come off as he had intended. He had absolutely not expected to be called for a follow up a week later; and he definitely had not expected to be out driving the very next day.
Bard adjusted the chauffer hat that sat on his head minutely. He made sure that the goggles sat directly in line with his nose and that the pointed tips were slightly tilted upwards. His boss had been very clear that the uniform was to be worn at all times; the correct uniform. Even though he had been stern and grumpy and generally foul-tempered, Bard had the niggling impression that he felt sorry for him. There was a pitying in his eyes as Bard had walked out of the door that morning, but he couldn’t bring himself to care; he was finally away from his job at the blasted ferry. Private chauffeur was a distinct upgrade to his lifestyle, and he could not believe his luck.
Bard was brought from his musings as the back door to the car was opened and the outside world filtered in. A light hum of traffic and the squeaky sounds of bicycles filled his ears, and he snapped his head around to see who had entered. Bard’s eyes widened when the svelte form of a blonde man slipped into the seat and pulled the door closed. He brought with him the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, a waft of fragrant cologne and the chill of the air outside. The man had his large cell phone pressed to his ear and a pair of sleek sunglasses covering most of his face.
“No, no, Galion. It is not accepta- No… No he cannot expect to get away with it…”
Bard raised his eyebrows a little, turning in his seat to allow himself to continue to stare at the blonde.
“I do not care whether he likes it or not, Galion, it is not…”
Bard was too busy studying the stranger to notice anything he was talking about. The man wore a black suit; an expensive suit. It more than likely cost double what he eared in a month. A soft, sable coat shielded his suit from the variable weather that hung outside the car, and he carried an elegant black umbrella.
“It is not your place to decide that, nor do I expect to have to remind you of your role.”
The man had long, white gold hair that reached down across his coat and tumbled over his broad, strong shoulders. His hair was scraped back at the front and was pulled behind his pointier-than-usual ears, leaving a few strands to flow down against the strong jut of his cheekbones.
“I would remind you that I am the CEO of this company, Galion, I make the final decision. I only ask your opinion as a courtesy out of deference to our long working relationship.”
His nose was a work of art. It supported his opaque sunglasses magnificently and swept down his face to end in a delicate flourish of pale skin. His lips were even more gorgeous; plump and pink and pointy at the arches. They twisted and sneered as he spoke, twitching in annoyance at the poor soul who languished at the other end of the line.
“That is not of any concern to me. If this prompts you to leave, then so be it.”
The man ripped his phone away from one pointy ear and ended the call. He turned to the man who was staring at him from the drivers seat. Though Bard could not see his eyes, his darkened sunglasses shielding them, he knew that the blonde man was looking straight at him.
“Drive,” he commanded, his voice dripping with disdain for the chauffeur.

Description
Cover Art for the Barduil fan fiction Drive by LoveActuallyFan on Archive of Our Own. Meant as a birthday present for ofplanet_earth.

Extract from 'Drive' -

Bard fiddled nervously with the edge of the plush leather steering wheel, the tips of his fingers worrying the intricate stitch work that wrapped around the perimeter. He pursed his lips, his tongue licking out to wet their chapped surface. He took to biting them when he was nervous; it had become a habit that he had no control over. His emerald-green eyes flicked to his reflection, his gaze catching its mirror image to check his appearance for the umpteenth time that day.
He looked ridiculous. The car he was driving was vintage – a restored and updated model – and apparently the uniform had to match the era of the vehicle. He wore a deep green chauffeur’s uniform that buttoned at the front with large golden buttons. The cap he wore on his head was of the old style and a pair of out-dated driving goggles sat around the brim. What he would need them for, he couldn’t fathom, though they did make him appear rather dapper. The green of the uniform brought out the colour of his eyes and the hat lent him an official air. Though still, in his mind, he looked absolutely absurd.
When he had heard that he had landed the job he could not believe it. The interview hadn’t gone as smoothly as he would have liked, and he had attempted a lame joke to endear himself to the interviewer. He had gotten the distinct impression that it had not come off as he had intended. He had absolutely not expected to be called for a follow up a week later; and he definitely had not expected to be out driving the very next day.
Bard adjusted the chauffer hat that sat on his head minutely. He made sure that the goggles sat directly in line with his nose and that the pointed tips were slightly tilted upwards. His boss had been very clear that the uniform was to be worn at all times; the correct uniform. Even though he had been stern and grumpy and generally foul-tempered, Bard had the niggling impression that he felt sorry for him. There was a pitying in his eyes as Bard had walked out of the door that morning, but he couldn’t bring himself to care; he was finally away from his job at the blasted ferry. Private chauffeur was a distinct upgrade to his lifestyle, and he could not believe his luck.
Bard was brought from his musings as the back door to the car was opened and the outside world filtered in. A light hum of traffic and the squeaky sounds of bicycles filled his ears, and he snapped his head around to see who had entered. Bard’s eyes widened when the svelte form of a blonde man slipped into the seat and pulled the door closed. He brought with him the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, a waft of fragrant cologne and the chill of the air outside. The man had his large cell phone pressed to his ear and a pair of sleek sunglasses covering most of his face.
“No, no, Galion. It is not accepta- No… No he cannot expect to get away with it…”
Bard raised his eyebrows a little, turning in his seat to allow himself to continue to stare at the blonde.
“I do not care whether he likes it or not, Galion, it is not…”
Bard was too busy studying the stranger to notice anything he was talking about. The man wore a black suit; an expensive suit. It more than likely cost double what he eared in a month. A soft, sable coat shielded his suit from the variable weather that hung outside the car, and he carried an elegant black umbrella.
“It is not your place to decide that, nor do I expect to have to remind you of your role.”
The man had long, white gold hair that reached down across his coat and tumbled over his broad, strong shoulders. His hair was scraped back at the front and was pulled behind his pointier-than-usual ears, leaving a few strands to flow down against the strong jut of his cheekbones.
“I would remind you that I am the CEO of this company, Galion, I make the final decision. I only ask your opinion as a courtesy out of deference to our long working relationship.”
His nose was a work of art. It supported his opaque sunglasses magnificently and swept down his face to end in a delicate flourish of pale skin. His lips were even more gorgeous; plump and pink and pointy at the arches. They twisted and sneered as he spoke, twitching in annoyance at the poor soul who languished at the other end of the line.
“That is not of any concern to me. If this prompts you to leave, then so be it.”
The man ripped his phone away from one pointy ear and ended the call. He turned to the man who was staring at him from the drivers seat. Though Bard could not see his eyes, his darkened sunglasses shielding them, he knew that the blonde man was looking straight at him.
“Drive,” he commanded, his voice dripping with disdain for the chauffeur.