DAIN AND THE QUESTION OF THE PAST
Middle Earth, original Wren and Thorin, Timeline#1
Wren's POV
Dain is watering the pots with sage and thyme. You pretend to be absorbed in your book, not to embarrass him. He would not enjoy if you were looking at him, as he is also talking to the plants, murmuring gentle nonsenses to them, stroking the leaves. After a few years in Erebor, the King gifted you with a garden in the higher halls, part of it indoors, warmed up with large stoves, part outside, where your plants can enjoy sunlight. Now that you have Dain you seem to spend more time in here than ever.
He is rubbing a fragrant leaf, his beautiful narrow face pensive, framed with wavy red hair, two thick braids, his bright green eyes adorned with the thickest, longest eyelashes, an envy of most Dwarven girls around him. He licks his bottom lip, in a gesture so similar to his father's, the same strong but sensual line of mouth.
"I have a question, amad," his tone is soft. You love Dain's questions, they are always complicated, come out of the blue and his train of thought is virtually impossible to follow sometimes. He is eighteen, for a Dwarf he is just a child but you know that his intellect and imagination, as well as your blood of Men, make him a much more mature eighteen year old than his peers.
"You may ask it, Dain," you put the book aside.
"Have you loved anyone other than Father?" His slanted eyes are calm, almost unemotional, but you can see the fire hiding in them.
By now you know that to ask Dain for a reasoning behind his questions is a direct path to make him withdraw into the shell of his mind and abandon his line of inquiry. Honesty and openness seem to be the best approach with your third child, his questions often spurring the most exquisite of discussions between you two.
"Have I ever loved another man before your Father?"
He nods and then adds in his usual even, nonchalant tone, "Or a woman. And not only before. Ever." He is cutting off the top leaves from a thyme shrub.
"Yes, once. Before I met your father, there was a man who occupied my heart. With time I understood that we were not meant to be and left. It was many years before I met your adad."
A few moments pass in silence. You are gazing on your son. When absorbed in his thoughts he seems almost ethereal, as if stepping behind an invisible veil, only half present in this world, a surprising quality for a Dwarf, as they are such grounded creatures, all fire and stone.
"Do you regret it?" You smile. Always so perceptive, so inquisitive.
"How can one regret something that one does not have any control over, Dain?" He lifts his extraordinary eyes at you. They are green, a poignant colour, of grass or leaves of an oaken tree.
"That is not an answer to my question, amad." You smile wider.
"You are right, Dain, it is not." You touch the heavy necklace on your neck, the habit of many years. The opals of Nyrnala, the Jewel of Khazad-dum are the familiar weight on your collarbone and warmth shared with the heat of your body. "I do not. For two reasons. It made me who I am, taught me to protect my autonomy, to not let another person determine my decisions." He is listening attentively.
"And the second reason?" You think back on the day when Aldacar, son of Elendil took your hand and asked you to be his.
"Because at that moment it felt right. If you follow your heart and are honest with yourself, even if later it brings you pain, you should not regret that decision." He lowers his hand and fidgets with the garden pincers.
"Does adad know?"
"He does." And then he lifts his face and cocks one brow. At that moment he looks so much like his father that you laugh out loud.
"Something tells me he did not enjoy finding out." You continue laughing.
"No, not particularly." Dain smiles back, a rare wonderful smile.
"Thank you for sharing your story with me, amad."
"Any time, Dain." You go back to your book, and he returns his attention to the pot and the plants waiting for his care.