UNNA
Middle Earth, original Wren and Thorin, Timeline#1
Wren's POV
Your only female offspring, Unna, the daughter of Thorin, by the age of 30, a mere youngling for a Dwarf, has determined the two main interests in her life. They are weaponry and coquetry.
She is beautiful and sensual, with her thick luscious hair inherited from her father and the dark brown eyes of your mother, and if that doesn't gain her a heart of yet another misfortunate Dwarf who was unlucky enough to catch her ardent, though fleeting interest, her exceptional swording skills and expertise in weaponry definitely do.
She is the daughter of her father. If she desires, she acquires.
She is in no way promiscuous, she is flirty, yet judicious. Sometimes you have a feeling that conquering and breaking hearts for her is a sort of a game, as if she is keeping an immaculate score record in her head. She never seems to feel too deeply towards her suitors, always more interested in acquiring a new skill in crafts, and even less so she is concerned with their destiny after she finds a different object of desire.
She is a genuine Dwarven woman, chaste in everything but words, prepared, if it is ever to come, to mate for life and belong to her husband fully. Except not any time soon, since for her there is still so much to learn and to try.
Out of all your children she seems to suffer most from her mixed descent. Since she was a small child, she lamented her narrower than characteristic for a Dwarven woman waist and her soft facial features. As a child she compensated by beating up other girls, and boys for that matter, who dared say something or even look at her the wrong way. In many cases the offences for which she was punishing them were the fruit of her own imagination.
You suspect that her reaping of poor defenseless hearts now that she is turning into an alluring young woman is the grown-up equivalent of pushing a Dwarven child face down into a sticky mud puddle.
Having insisted that her older brother and Master Dwalin were to teach her sword and axe fight, she quickly became a skilled warrior, her flexible and lighter build an actual advantage for once. She is so adept that the King gifts her with a short Dwarven sword at the age of ten. She also possesses several sets of throwing knives, mostly gifts from her favourite cousin, so called Uncle Fili.
Unlike her brother Dain, she does not manifest any magical abilities, though when pregnant with her you felt some strange magic swirling in your blood. You suspect that even if she possesses any, she probably rejected it so decisively, it has been thwarted at the root.
She renounces your magic and your weak human nature, and it takes you both a few years to find your footing in your relationships. You do not share any interests. Books and healing never spark any curiosity in her. You do not approve of her abusing her feminine charms to get what she wants and her greed for gold though you expected it, her being a daughter of Dwarf. You often have heated discussions that make the King and her brothers flee into the Lower Halls.
For the first time in your life you feel that you have to prove your worth. You have always been certain that the way you build your life is the right path for you and of your concern only. And there you are, staring in the eyes of a stubborn Dwarven youngling, and these eyes are full of doubt and deprecation.
You win her over. You spar with her, again and again getting an upper hand, thrust after thrust, striking her breast plate, knocking a shield out of her hands, pushing her on the ground, your sword again and again pressed to her throat. You take her into the city on your rounds, and as much as she hates the tedious hours of attending to the sick and the expectant mothers, she has to see the respect and loyalty of your people towards you. You allow her to be present at the royal council and to hear the King asking for your advice and older Dwarves attentively listening to your judgement.
You have long conversations and achieve a certain degree of understanding. You accept each other and establish boundaries. Each one of you honours the path the other chose in her life. She understands that your demure attires and soft manners do not mean you are weak or simple. You allow her continue her sportive ways, surrounded by her peers, showing her that you trust her judgement.
The day when you become true friends and you feel you finally gained her respect is the day when the Elvenking Thranduil and his son Legolas arrive to Erebor with their first official visit since the fallout with King Thror.
Afterwards, you think that until that day Unna's perception of Elves was only built on what the other Dwarves would tell her about them, and although your peoples have established a friendly alliance, the eternal animosity will never be forgotten between your races.
Unna is not allowed out of her chambers that day according to old Dwarven traditions of concealing their females from others. She is overwhelmed with curiosity, and you allow her and several of her girlfriends to peek through the window of your chamber when the procession of Silvan Elves arrives, their green banners and glowing argent armour standing out on the familiar landscape of Erebor.
After the official meetings and celebratory dinner you accompany the King of Mirkwood on his walk through the halls of Erebor. A small smile plays on his lips, and you return it in a quiet companionship and silence. You both are obviously reminded of the walks you have partaken, when expecting Unna you stayed in his Kingdom.
"I am pleased to see that time does not take its toll on you, my lady," Thranduil's voice is low and enticing. "Whether it is your magic hindering your mellowing, I am happy that you retain your radiance and vitality." You lift your eyes at him. He stops and turns to you. "For the sake of your children, of course." You smile to him and nod. He picks up your hand and his cold finger gently press onto yours.
You hear a rustling sound and turn your head. Unna is frozen at her steps, her brown eyes wide open and her shoulders trembling. For a second you allow yourself to admire your daughter. Attired in a heavy draped dress according to the latest fashion, elegant jewels of the most precious gems gleaming on her neck and hands, a few gems hiding in her luscious dark curls, she is a child anyone would be proud to present to their guests. Even if the guest happens to be an Elf. What Unna does not understand yet is that your blood made her attractive to the eyes of other races besides the Dwarves. Her father's straight noble nose and your sensual line of lips, such different features fused in her in a harmonious and graceful visage.
"Unna, allow me to introduce King Thranduil, the Lord of the Woodland Realm. My daughter, Unna, daughter of Thorin, princess of Erebor." The Elvenking lets go of your hand and gives her a small, slow bow. She bows in return, her lips quivering.
"I can tell that you were fortunate to inherit the most invaluable qualities from your parents, Unna, daughter of Thorin." She is pinned down under the cold gaze of the Elvenking's remarkable eyes. You can see that she is taking short shuddered breaths. "Your mother's wisdom, acumen and life force. And her beauty is quite pronounced in your features, Unna, daughter of Thorin, as well as her loyalty and devotion." King Thranduil tilts his head and his lips twitch, which would go doubtlessly unnoticed by any other, but after knowing him for so long, for you it looks as if he is grinning from cheek to cheek. You give a small cough. "And your father's determination," he confers.
She gives him another bow and hastily departs. Later that night you are preparing for bed, and she knocks at the door of your dressing room. You seat her on a large bench by the window and let her ask. You tell her of your life as a healer in Dale, of meeting the King Under the Mountain, of choosing Erebor as your home, of your magic and the interest the Elves and Istari have in it. It was brought from over the seas in the heart of one man and passed on to your mother through his forbidden love to your grandmother. You tell her how the magic allows you to see into the hearts of others and protect the ones you love. Such as it happened when carrying her under your heart, you were wounded on the borders of the Woodland Realm and how you were healed by the magic and herbs of King Thranduil.
"He was holding your hand, amad," her voice is low and trembling.
"We are good friends," you smile to her, "As much as a Dwarf can be friends with an Elf." She does not say it but you know that defiance stirs in her. "As I have chosen King Thorin over any other, thusly I chose Erebor over any other race and kingdom." She is frowning, considering your words.
"You have chosen adad as your King?" You smile and for the first time feel like a genuine mother to her. You stroke her silken hair, so similar to her father's, and speak softly.
"I have chosen him as the King of my heart. One day you will surrender your heart to a man as well, and you will know the clarity and belonging it brings. And how nothing can obscure your understanding of who you are anymore after that. Not even a glorious creature such as the Elvenking Thranduil." She jerks up her face and looks at you in shock. You smile to her, and she giggles.
"They are quite striking, aren't they?" Her tone is mischievous, and you both laugh.
"And remarkable swordmen as well. I have seen Prince Legolas in a fight. He can almost be compared to your adad in his mastery of a single-edged blade." Her eyes widen even more. She moves closer.
"But they are so pale, fragile, thin…"
"I am pale and thin, and yet I can still drop you on your backside any day." She guffaws.
"I thought they would seem repulsive. But they are so..." She inhales but no right word seems to come. You laugh, and she joins you.
That is how the King finds you two, arms wrapped around each other, whispering and snickering.
"What are you two up to here?" His question is met with a roar of laughter. She gets up to leave and gives you a warm smile.
"Good night, Unna."
"Good night, amad. Can we have another talk like that tomorrow again?"
"Of course. And maybe have a small walk together. On the Western balcony over the Upper Halls." She giggles and leaves the room.
The Western balcony gives a wonderful view of the training yard and your guests were invited for a few rounds of sparring the next day.