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barak; backbone, shield, strength
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Book summary - The men of Durin were considered Erebor's sons. Their women, however, were considered the physical embodiments of the mountain herself. Freya, elder sister to the princes, Fili and Kili, sister-daughter of the rightful heir to the throne, Thorin Oakenshield, is no exemption. With a mind like a cavern, a heart made of stone, Freya is fierce in her love and loyalty to her family; a Durin. This is her story.
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A/N: In which Frerin is reborn, a bond is forged and a promise is made.
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Thorin Oakenshield knew pain.
In the aftermath of the vile dragon, Smaug, laying siege on his home and forcing his people from the safety of their mountain and into the unknown – he had heard it in the distraught wails of his people.
Seen it when he saw the numbers of bodies, too many to count beyond grief, of the fallen that were lit aflame on joined pyres after the Battle of Azanulbizar.
Felt it when he picked up the bloody battle axe that had once belonged to Frerin, his nadad*.
His brother. Dead.
After having his home stolen by a dragon, his people scattered and losing almost all his kin except his dear namad, Dis, Thorin liked to believe that he knew pain.
But on the day of the annual event of his people known as Durin's day, for the first time in years, Thorin knew a different kind of feeling. Instead of feeling pain, as he so usually did on such a solemn event, he felt an excited apprehension.
A loud shriek tore through the evening air, and the weary prince leaned his head back as he gazed up into the night sky. Inside the small hut that he had built for his sister along with her husband, Vili, the only live sibling he had in the world lay in fierce determination.
Dis, his little namad*, was giving birth.
Her screams echoed throughout the small village, and Thorin glanced down at the battle-axe that sat in his clenched fist to distract himself. It was Frerin's axe, Barak*. Backbone, strength, shield. Barak had been a good name for the weapon, as it had, Thorin recalled fondly, aided his brother in plenty of battles.
Perhaps it was his absence that made Thorin's chest ache so sorely, though at the same time, filled him with a light wonder at the prospect of a new family member.
Still, the absence of his brother haunted Thorin deeply, and he let out a deep exhale as he moved the axe in his hands.
Frerin had once said that once his time with the axe had come to an end, he would gladly gift it to his first-born sister-daughter or son of Dis' seeing as Thorin had no intentions whatsoever of settling down.
But he was gone. Dead, Thorin reminded himself bitterly. So, it was up to him to bestow Frerin's weapon to the next generation of Durin.
Thorin could see Frerin, forever dining in the halls of their forefathers, and knew that in this situation he would've flashed him the same mischievous smile he carried with him into manhood.
"Thorin," A low voice called out to him then.
Peeking his head out of the door, a pair of brown eyes shone in relieved giddiness.
It was Vili, Dis' husband.
It seemed that in his silent reminiscing, Thorin had missed as another cry had filled the space where his sisters' cries once occupied and all at once warmth flooded his heart.
Dis had done it. The babe had arrived.
"Would you like to come and meet your sister-daughter?" Vili didn't get to finish before Thorin was on his feet and scrambling into their family's hut.
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The first thing Thorin could think of as he gazed down at his sister, who was tiredly tending to her babe, was that he was looking at a ghost. A gift from their deceased brother that even beyond the land of the living, the child in his sister's arms had his blessing.
The babe looked exactly as Frerin had as a babe and a naïve part of Thorin mused that his brother had come alive once more in the form of his sister's babe. But that couldn't be, Thorin knew.
For the babe that drunk greedily, strongly, from his sisters' milk was a girl.
His sister-daughter.
"Dis," Thorin spoke softly, minding the child.
His namad met his gaze, teary-eyed.
"Thorin," She rasped with a sad and knowing smile. "She has Frerin's coloring, does she not?" The pain that leaked into her voice was overpowered by the immense love and pride she felt. Thorin understood her feelings all too well.
Inching closer, Thorin inspected the babe's features.
The barn had tufts of dark hair, too dark to be Vili's gold mane and too light to be Dis' raven colour. Instead, the babe's hair was a perfect blend of both Vili's and Dis' and leaned more towards a dark auburn if anything. The same color that Frerin had once had.
"Yes," Thorin agreed quietly. "But she has your eyes and Vili's nose."
And it was true. While the baby indeed had the Durin's famous blue eyes and Frerin's hair, the slight curl that already showed on her head hinted at the wild mess Vili had himself.
"She is the best of both of us." Dis agreed quietly, eyes crinkled as her lips widened into a bright and warm smile. Her hair still stuck to her forehead, matted with sweat. And her skin was still pale in colour. But despite her obvious post-birthing appearance, she radiated a type of glow she had never possessed before and all too suddenly, Thorin remembered their own mother.
Vas, with her auburn hair and smiling brown eyes. She too had the same glow Dis had. Warm and inviting. It was the kind of glow that only mothers could possess.
"A true Durin then," was all Thorin said, sparing a brief glance at the doorway where Vili entered with a small smile. He carried a refilled basin of warm water next to the bed Dis was laying in, and ever so carefully began wiping away at her head with a damp cloth.
The smile Dis shared with her One was heartwarming to witness, and at the same time, sent a wave of sadness over Thorin.
Dis had married a good man. Vili, son of Vali and Lili, was a warrior through and through. Had Frerin been there, he too would've agreed that their good-brother was someone worthy of their sister's family name and status. Thorin only wished he could've gotten more. The same for Dis and even their newborn babe. But alas, they had no riches, no crowns nor a Kingdom to call home.
Instead, all they had were empty titles, ghosts and the weight of their people on their backs.
Mahal had been hard on them.
And Thorin was certain that they had truly been left abandoned by their forefathers after all the chaos and ruin they had seen.
But as Vili took the small baby, now quiet and satisfied, from Dis' arms and placed her into the weary arms of his own, Thorin stilled. The babe's blue eyes were wide with wonder and light, something he had not seen in what felt like years and the rush of emotion that swept over him was almost overwhelming.
Holding her was like reacquainting himself with the love of his forefathers. Truly, the babe was proof that not everything could be so bad and suddenly Thorin did not care that they had no riches, crowns nor Kingdom.
He did not care, because, as the babe in his arms let out a small yawn and scrunched up her button nose, he decided that they would gain all those things once again.
"What is her name?" Thorin finally asked after some time, his voice thick with emotions that even Vili was surprised to hear.
Nevertheless, Vili and Dis smiled to one another, mirroring the same warmth Thorin felt in his heart before his good-brother spoke.
"Her name is Freya." His good-brother announced, eyes bright. "The female version of Frerin, in honour of our nadad* who was a good and just man. He would've wanted to be here to see her. To see our family."
Thorin's heart soared at the declaration, remembering of his late brother's fierce love and loyalty for their kin, and again he was reminded of the battle-axe that was leaning against the wall.
"Freya," He mused quietly, watching as the babe's eyes fluttered. "I will make a vow to you, namadnathith. By the name of Durin, I swear to both you and your amad-nadad* who died so we might return to our home, that you will live to see our Kingdom once more.
That you will return to the mountain that our ancestors have called home for hundreds of years and live there for hundreds more. Perhaps you will help me accomplish this feat, as your amad-nadad meant to. But I will, for you.
And as your amad-nadad is not here, he has left Barak in his place to protect you. I will teach you how to use it and you will grow to be everything Durin and Erebor is meant to be. Mena tessu, bunnanunê*. Men lananubukhs me*." (You mean everything to me, little treasure. I love you.)
The baby was silent, eyes fluttering shut, and in the silence that followed, Thorin felt his words echo in the small hut. And faintly, ever so faintly, Thorin was sure he heard the familiar voices of his dead brother and dead ancestors voicing their agreement.
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Translations, as taken from welcome/:
Nadad – brother
Namad – mother
Barak – backbone, shield, strength
Namadnathith – sister-daughter
Amad-nadad – Mother-brother
Mena tessu – You mean everything to me
Bunnanunê - little treasure
Men lananubukhs me – I love you
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