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(Aule and Yavanna comparison seemed obvious to me; I'm glad it was received so well!)
- 29 -
"They should have kissed," muttered Tilly in disappointment, evidently quite taken by the tale, and maybe a little by fact it included the word 'king'.
Acwyn looked at her, her face thoughtful, her eyes like the inscrutable depths of a mountain lake. "No, young one, they shouldn't have."
"And why not?" Tilly pursed her lips. "They could've at least held hands or something." She shrugged, not going to be placated so easily. "That's just... cowardly."
"Sometimes it takes more courage to let go, dear," said Acwyn softly.
"Then why wouldn't she just leave?" huffed Tilly. "It'll make things simple again."
"Maybe she didn't have that much courage. Or maybe she had enough courage to stay and go on like that. We'll never know, I guess. It's just a tale." Acwyn smiled. "Should I go on?"
Tilly nodded, and so Acwyn spoke up again to weave her tale further.
"They did not see each other more often than earlier, nor less frequently; life just went on as it used to. Run would come over to talk and laugh with Dís, to play with her sons, to exchange news with Balin and Dwalin, and sometimes Thorin would join them. He would come to their halls in the evening, and eat supper with them, play with his nephews or tell them a story, or teach them Khuzdul words – and the boys would laugh at Run's failed attempts to repeat new phrases. And sometimes he would take out his pipe and smoke, and his nephews would go around chasing the smoke rings, filling the halls with much needed laughter. And sometimes he would take his harp and play, or recite the tales of old, and that more than anything would make Run think how little did she know him.
"And sometimes, when she was about town or busy with preparing herbs, or selling them, or helping travellers that stopped by her house, most of the time accompanied by Sage, she would notice a couple of dwarves passing by, their faces often obscured by hoods, and she would recognise the blue hood and the silver tassel. And once or twice it happened they saw each other when the townsfolk and the dwarves met and drank together, and she would go among others to laugh and dance, and he probably would think how little did he know her.
"And when she would venture up into the mountains, to look for herbs, sometimes she would find not only herbs but also the dwarven king. They would talk a little, quietly, or would sit on a fallen log, always at a proper distance, or would share silence when his temper was foul, or laughter when it was not. Run never put the mithril clasp on her hair, but she had told him once she had sewn it into her kerchief, under the stitching of Yavanna's flower, and every time he would look at her, he would remember. But it would not even cross his mind to forsake his heritage, his new home and his people for a woman he could never marry, because for that he would have to forsake the customs of his fathers, which he held sacred. And she never asked him for any promise, for it would never cross her mind to upset the fragile balance weaved between dwarves and men, or to leave the ill and those in need of healing, for she honoured her obligations and duties as he did his. And she respected his choice, and he respected hers, and maybe that was the most important of all.
"Only sometimes, when she saw him play with his nephews, not the king, and not the uncle they called him, but the father he acted as, her heart would ache a little at the image she was too sensible to even dream about, laid out plainly before her eyes. She never knew what he thought, or whether he thought of those things at all. But sometimes when she was teaching Sage, her head bent to the girl's and her voice explaining something quietly, a dwarf in a silver-tasselled hood would stop nearby and watch them, and see in her the mother she would never become.
"But for all the ache it brought to her heart, and for all the clouds it brought to his face, they could talk and share silence and laughter, and there was gladness to be found in those small graces. So maybe that was why she never left: because for each moment of pain, there was a moment of joy, and for the lonely evenings there were those warm and happy, and for every little grief there was the knowledge there would be another day that that would bring a smile."
