Hello there, everyone! This is a one-shot for LilianRose17 for being the 400th reviewer on my current main work, The Beautifully Dark Sister.
I do not own the prompt; however, I do own the characters present here. Speaking of which, unless you have read my main work, most likely you will be confused, so I would highly recommend that you try that story out for size. Or, I suppose you can read it as a couple of original characters having a moment.
I hope you like it, Lilian!
The girl was so painfully young, Arathell thought. And the fact that she was a Dwarf only made her look smaller in the Elven quarters of her chamber. The girl's chubby legs dangled off of the side of the great bed, each taking turns swinging back and forth to occupy her mind. The girl sat on her hands and looked down at her bare feet, appearing bashful.
Mara, the Dwarven girl's mother, was only recently deceased. Arathell could remember the matriarch fondly and had privately shed many tears for her lost friend. During Arathell's many travels, she had suspended her wandering mind in the Blue Mountains for a time, resting with the lost Dwarves of Erebor after their famous battle in Moria. Dwarves had never cared tremendously for Elves, so their acceptance of Arathell and her presence with them was hard-fought. Mara had been one of the only Dwarves to completely accept Arathell, coming to care for her as her own daughter.
When Arathell had left Mara's care, it had been a bittersweet goodbye. Arathell knew that she needed to be present with her own family but was reluctant to leave the familial bond she had formed with Mara. The promise to accept Mara anytime the Dwarf wanted to visit in Rivendell had easily fallen from her lips, and Arathell would never regret it either.
The circumstance revolving around Mara's "visit" to Rivendell was never what Arathell had intended to happen.
Old and frail, Mara had appeared and practically dropped upon arrival to the Elven home, passing on to the halls of Aulë before stepping into the city itself.
The girl sitting on Arathell's bed now was an extra "visitor" that she had never anticipated welcoming. Kara was only eleven, the weight of all of Middle Earth ever-present on her somewhat hefty shoulders. A girl… Arathell sighed. Kara should never have had to watch her own mother succumb to old age while being so young.
"Is there anything you would like to do?" Arathell asked softly. She had no experience with children, being the youngest of all of Elrond's children, and being an Elf besides… connecting with Kara would be a challenge. But she had made a promise to Mara to do her best and to raise Kara as if she was her own, and that is exactly what she intended to do.
Kara shook her head, thick black tresses barely swaying at the motion and looking just as dejected as the girl's porcelain face. "She's really gone, isn't she? She isn't coming back?" she asked, raising her head to look at Arathell forlornly.
Stunning green eyes met Arathell mottled brown ones, bereft of a spark that should have been present in every child's gaze. "Oh, child," Arathell frowned, leaning forward in her chair to take the girl's small hand in her own. The short fingers couldn't even wrap completely around Arathell's palm. "I wish she would. I wish that I could take away this pain."
Kara nodded, taking the comfort and not even letting it register. Arathell's family had been so supportive and had fought hard to take care of Kara, but the girl was having nothing of pity or sympathy. Arathell couldn't even recall the girl shedding any tears since being in Rivendell. That was a week ago. "Where is your mother?" Kara asked.
Arathell sighed and traced deep circles on the back of Kara's hand. "My mother went away too. A very long time ago, she left to Valinor."
"I don't know what that means," Kara said tonelessly.
Arathell felt the corner of her lips tighten, pondering what could be done for the melancholy girl. She stood suddenly and marched to one of her bookshelves, fingers running over the words of memorized book spines. She smiled a little when she withdrew a pale green book, the title written in simple golden calligraphy, "Histories."
She walked back to the girl and placed it on her lap and poked the word. "I'm sure that this would explain it better than I could."
Kara cocked her head and traced her finger over the lettering. "She never taught me how to read," she stated. "She did not have the time before she died."
Arathell wanted to slap herself and pulled the book back before the girl could say anything more. "Mara wanted what was best for you, Kara. You cannot forget that."
"That's her name?" she asked, looking up at her curiously. "It sounds like mine. I've never heard anyone call her that before. She was always 'Khagun' to me. I thought that was her name," she murmured.
Arathell smiled. "That means, 'Mother' in your language," she explained.
"I didn't know we had a language," Kara said further. "I only remember her speaking like this to me. I don't know many others who are Dwarves like me. There were some that lived where we did. But she kept me inside. She said she was afraid."
Arathell shifted. "You and I are speaking what is called 'Common Tongue.' Your people speak Khuzdul, and my people speak Sindarin."
"Can you teach me?" Kara asked, lacing her fingers together and arching an eyebrow. The girl was the picture of skepticism, and Arathell felt suddenly that she was being tested by this eleven year old. The girl knew what she wanted and seemed to be far more in tune with her surroundings than Arathell would have ever originally given her credit for. She had all of the potential to be a rather daunting figure in adulthood, proud and loyal like all of her kin.
Arathell looked back at the book in her hands. "We should start with your letters first," she decided.
Kara nodded and snatched the book away from Arathell again and opened it to the first page. "I'm ready now."
Arathell grinned at her enthusiasm and moved to sit next to the girl.
Arathell walked into Kara's bedchamber, finding the thirteen year old Dwarf sprawled on the floor with almost a dozen books all opened to random pages surrounding her. Kara's dark head full of curls stayed directed downwards, a feather pen in her left hand as she took studious notes while maintaining her gaze on a particular book.
"Kara," Arathell called. "Dinner has been called three times now."
Kara waved her left hand in dismissal. "Just have the cooks keep it in the kitchen. I will attend to it after my studies."
"Child, we finished your studies for the day… hours ago in fact."
"I can't quite understand this word," she continued, scrounging her nose and staring at the word closely, as if its secret meaning would reveal itself to her if she buried her face deep enough in the parchment.
Arathell sighed and walked to retrieve the book from Kara. "Which word?" Arathell had been endeavoring to teach Kara all there was to know about Sindarin. Kara had caught on quickly when it came to reading books in Common, with the letters being fairly simple, and now Arathell was determined to teach Kara the language of the Elves. Assignments were crucial, and Kara thrived off of them. Lately, Arathell had been giving books written only in Sindarin to Kara in order for her to translate into Common. Kara had been in charge of discovering the dictionaries in the library and for finding enough literature to use context clues should a particular word not be found in her reference material. Kara always said that it was like a treasure hunt and she loved it.
Kara stood, red dress crumpled, but she paid it no mind, reaching over to point at the word. "This one."
"It means creek," Arathell translated. "Now will you come to dinner?"
"I'm not even hungry."
"I don't care if you're the Queen of Erebor, you need to eat."
"You're being ridiculous, Mother."
Arathell froze and stared down at Kara with wide eyes. "What?"
Kara suddenly looked bashful and took the book back, setting it on the ground and waiting to follow her out of the room. "Fine, we can go to dinner now."
"What did you call me, Kara?"
The girl's cheeks reddened like little rubies and she tugged on the hems of her dress, only now straightening it anxiously. "I only thought…" she began before tugging on a strand of her curled hair. "I have lived with you in Rivendell for two years now…" Kara huffed and pushed all hair from her face, now defiantly staring up at Arathell, daring to be crossed. "You are the one who is raising me, and you care for me as a mother would. Is it wrong of me to call you that? Do I have to call you 'Arathell' for the rest of my life, or can I finally call you 'Mother?'"
Arathell's mouth had fallen open at the small speech. Kara had always been eloquent and articulate in her manner of speaking, but there were instances where Arathell would swear that it was not a girl she was conversing with, rather an unearthly woman of wills.
The silence continued and Kara's bottom lip twitched as she became nervous. "Mara was your mother…" Arathell drawled.
"Yes, she was," Kara agreed.
It fell quiet between the two again and Arathell felt tears start popping into her eyes. A mother – her! The girl had only been with her for two years, and Arathell had already become her mother!
Sentiment and love overwhelmed her entire being and she reached up to wipe away the tears before latching onto the girl and pulling her close. "Oh, my girl…" she murmured, petting the raven hair. "Of course you can call me that. Just remember that I am not the one who gave you life and that your true mother must always be remembered."
"I don't remember much of Mara anymore," Kara admitted, holding Arathell tight by the legs.
"I don't believe that," Arathell denied. "It was two years ago and you were very aware of what was happening then. You must have memories."
"Not as many as I have with you," Kara disagreed.
Arathell smiled, unable to stop the swell of pride that swept through her. For once in her life, she felt more than just a warrior and more than a daughter of Elrond. Now she was someone's mother and that someone loved her very much. "You are very loved you know," Arathell whispered.
"I love you too, Mother," Kara replied, still holding onto her.
Wiping away another set of tears before they fell, Arathell pulled away and gave a watery smile to the girl. "Whether you love me or not, child, you cannot stall dinner a moment longer. Do not think I cannot see your game."
Kara chuckled and then sighed. "I thought I was being terribly clever, like the characters in the books."
"Kara, I had those entire books memorized before your mother's mother was even born. If your goal is to be conniving, you are going to have to work harder than that," Arathell teased, leading the Dwarven girl – her daughter – from the room.
There it is! I hope you liked it, Lilian! I had a great deal of fun writing it, and I think that it was an amazing idea. :D Thanks for the inspiration and let me know what you think!
Everyone else, please leave a review too, and if you are curious about the rest of the story, go check out the Beautifully Dark Sister! I'd love to have you!
Love, LM