7. Mourning ritual

Author's note: For you readers who once read my first fanfic Daughter of Fëanor back when I posted it on Facebook, there will show up a character who you might recognize when you see the name.

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When Narvi woke up next time, she was laying on a bedroll with a thick cloak as blanket over her to keep her warm. A fire to her left was being fed new firewood.

"Hopefully there will not be more members of that group of outlaws. I would perfer not to have to patch up one of you again for the third time in the same number of weeks!"

A hiss in pain from someone, before another person answered:

"Not everyone is so skilled at avoiding attacks like yourself and Celebrimbor, Elrond."

"Try surviving being in the care of my paternal family and not pick that kind of skills when you have my late aunt as battle trainer. There is a reason why orcs tended to run away in fear when they saw her."

Celebrimbor remembered many times when someone had tried to best Maedhros in a training battle and ending up defeated, laying flat on the ground with a sword tip against their neck as a result. If it was something that her horrors in Angband had brought out it was a darker side of herself that none had known about in the bliss of Valinor.

"Good point. Now, I believe there there is someone else who needs my care."

Narvi was not sure if she could trust the Elf, but what other choice did she have? At least, she was able to use a part of the blanket to hide her face below the eyes as she did not have a face veil near. To her surprise, the Elf did not show any surprise over that she hid her face like that. Was he perhaps one of the rare Elves who had managed to befriend the Northern Dwarf clans before the events in the Elvish kingdom of Doriath had happened?

"Mistress Dwarf? Are you awake?"

It was true that Narvi was still learning Westron, but now she knew enough much to know what was spoken to her.

"Yes."

The Elf raised a eyebrow at seeing that she hid her face in that way, but perhaps he simply thought that she was shy because it was so rare for a Dwarrowdam to see Elves so close. In any way, he did not do anything that could have counted as improper by Dwarven standards, merely asking her where she was sore after the fall into the waterfall and if she allowed him to use his healing powers to lessen it. Nodding without saying a word, Narvi rolled over to her other side so he could check on her sore back. A gentle warmth revealed itself where he had his hands on her back.

"Thank you, master Elf."

"It is the duty of a healer to heal the injured."

That Narvi could agree on, she had heard Dwarven healers say the same thing nearly every time she had visited the healing halls for some reason.

"Here, drink this. It will help you have a easier sleep and heal faster."

It was some sort of herbal tea, most likely made of herbs that was local to the North. Yet right now, it was soothing to have a simple act of kindness like this, even if it was made by somone who was not a fellow Dwarf.

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The next following days, Narvi was rather quiet and did not speak much. Part of it was because of the shock of losing her father Balder in a such manner, but she still tried show some gratitude for having been saved from a fate worse than death for a Dwarrowdam.

"So we will first stay at their home, Khelebrimbor?" she asked, her voice slightly muffered by the the long scarf she used to hide her face with since she had lost her face veil in the attack.

"Yes, miss Narvi. Most of the other girls lost their families when the outlaws attacked the farms where they were born and since we can not just leave them to care for themselves, Beorn has suggested that they will be servants on the stud farm that his family owns," explained Celebrimbor as the group of riders crossed a small river. Narvi nodded in understanding, seeing the logic in taking in the orphaned girls and young women. He did not mention it, but for some odd reason Celebrimbor liked the way she spoke his name with "Kh" instead of the C at the beginning. Perhaps it was because of her unusual dialect that was so rare in the entire north-western region of Middle-earth.

"Celebrimbor, move your stallion before you ends up leading him straight into that tree."

Elrond looked over his shoulder more than once just to check how things were, because from his view on things, Celebrimbor was acting weirder than normally. Of course, most people knew how fascinated he was by the Dwarves and given how rare it actually was to meet a Dwarrowdam, he should have known that Celebrimbor would take a chance like this. Granted, that Narvi came from the far East made her even more exotic than just being a very rare Dwarrowdam that almost never was seen outside their race, but Elrond was not blind to just how easy they already seemed to be able to talk to each other despite the small problem of Narvi's Eastern dialect and speaking Westron in a very unsual way.

"I am pretty sure that ada Maglor and aunt Maedhros would only be happy over that their nephew seems to continue the family tradition of befriending Dwarves…" Elrond thought for himself at remembering Maedhros' tales of her friendship with the Dwarf Lord Azaghâl in the First Age before the disastrous Nirnaeth Arnoediad against the forces of Morgoth.

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It was a huge gate of wood, complete with a large name sign with the words AVALON STUD FARM above the closed gates, that first greeted them.

"Home sweet home," Beorn smiled while his daughter Sally almost seemed ready to dismount from her place in front of her father's saddle and rush into the large courtyard. Suddenly there was a female voice screaming:

"OOOOOOUT WITH YOU, ALL OF YOU MEN! You cause a racket worse than the henhouse today! Out, out with you! The maids and girls cannot get any work done in here with you men around!"

The female voice was coming from the main house, and in the next moment, several of the stable workers had been chased out from the house by a black-haired woman, dressed in green clothing, holding a broom in her hands. But the most surprising about her was the sight of that she was very heavily pregnant, looking like she was close to her due date any day now.

"Oh, looks like Qwen likely will give birth soon in the next few days. She only have that kind of mood swings during the pregnancy when it is getting closer," commented Beorn without much surprise at seeing his wife acting like this.

"Moooooom!"

As Sally called to her mother while running past the gates, Qwen turned around to see which one of her children who called.

"Sally!"

Dropping the broom, she hurried over to her oldest child as quickly as she could do in her current condition.

"My girl! My sweet little girl…!"

"Dad found me, they did not manage to do anything to me or the other girls they had captured..."

Mother and daughter hugged each other tightly, joined up by several younger children. Celebrimbor, who had met this married couple before, whispered carefully:

"How many children will the two of you have now, counting in the current pregnancy?"

"Eight, we are currently on three sons and three daughters. She is pregnant with our second set of twins. Well, we have been married for 14 years already since she was nineteen and I was twenty, so it should be no wonder. In fact, we was seen as being wed at a rather late age, as most people around us would marry about four-five years earlier," Beorn answered calmly as he led in some of the horses into a pasture.

"Eight!?" muttered Elrond in disbelief at hearing the exact number, then looked extra carefully on Qwen with the eyes of a healer to see if there was any sign of that it could be some trouble for her after birthing so many children earlier. By now, Qwen had spotted her husband, their men and a notable set of unexpected quests.

"I take it that we need to clean out the extra rooms again, huh?" groaned Qwen after mentally counting how many guests it was.

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Thankfully, the maids had just started to make dinner, so they just needed to add some extra in order to make enough for everyone. Hearing why they had brought the rest of the freed girls and young women with them, Qwen said:

"Well, somehow it happens to be a good timing to bring the lasses here, for I will give birth any day now and all of our three current maids will be wed to some young lads from the village nearby this autumn, so we really need more help here in the household. While Sally and her two sisters can do some work, there is some stuff that they still cannot do because of their age and the house is too big for them to deal with alone while I recover from the birth...Leofwine, get down from there."

She gently pushed down her two-year-old son from the table and sat him down on the long bench so he did not cause any trouble.

"Lady Qwen? Do you have a scissor for cutting hair and a small mirror somewhere in the house? Narvi needs them for the start of a Dwarven mourning ritual," Celebrimbor asked as he looked out from a spare room where Narvi had dressed into a plain greyish wool dress she had been given to borrow during the visit on the stud farm.

"Yes, in that wooden box over the fireplace."

Celebrimbor found two scissors that Narvi should be able to use without too much worry about her large hands, and a small hand mirror from Qwen's private belongings.

"Thank you," Narvi said in her best Westron and gave a light bow on her head as she accepted the needed items. Requesting Celebrimbor to hold up the mirror in her eye level, Narvi freed her hair from the mid-thigh long braid she had it into before she picked up one of the scissors. She gathered up the white-blonde hair in a hand, and drew a deep breath before she used the scissors to cut the hair to armpit level. The cut-off part of her hair fell down to the floor. Then, she used the other scissor to cut her shoulder-long beard into just a full beard, the longer parts of her beard joining the other hair on the floor. Somehow, the effect made her look notably different from before. Narvi was still beautiful, but in a different style from earlier.

"A Dwarven custom for mourning when it is close relatives like parents or siblings. I will have to wear this style for the next six months, and this tradition also says that a mourning Dwarrowdam can not accept marriage offers during those six months…"

Her chance of possibly becoming Queen consort of Durin's folk was over before she even had gotten a chance to meet the future Durin II in Khazad-dûm. And Narvi knew that her whole family back in the Orocarni would be devastated at the news that her father was dead. It was true that Odin was old enough to be seen as a legal family head ever since coming of age thirty-five years earlier, but no one had expected Balder to pass away at the age of one hundred and ninety-five years. And there was no way she could travel back to the Orocarni alone, it was too dangerous. Her only chance to start a new life, one where her father no longer was present and the grief over him would not haunt her home as it would have done in her birth town, would be in Khazad-dûm.

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Author's note: I imagine that it would be a fitting mourning ritual among the Dwarves to cut their beard during the following six months as a sign of their grief over a lost family member, and that Dwarrowdams also cut their hair when they are in mourning period. As for you readers who recognized Qwen from Daughter of Fëanor, I hope that you enjoyed her comeo alongside her family.