OTHIN DEMANDS
Middle Earth, original Wren and Thorin, Timeline#1
Wren's POV
"Ada!" Othin's voice is irritated. He is glaring at you. You pretend to not hear him. He is supposed to be playing in his corner of the library, inside a playpen built specifically for him. None of your other children needed that much restriction. "Ada!" He sounds surprisingly like the King when he thinks he is not receiving something that is rightfully his. You lift your eyes from the book you are reading.
"Adad is busy, Othin. He cannot spend all his days with you. When he has time, he will come." Thick dark brows draw together.
"Ada..."
You sigh and get up. You come closer and scoot in front of the wooden bars. You felt heartbroken when the playpen was first commissioned. Keeping your own son in a cage seemed like an appalling idea, but after a seven-month Othin was found on the top shelf of one of the armouries you had no other choice. He manages to escape even the watchful eye of experienced Royal Guards.
"Would you like me to read you a book?" He smiles and stretches his hand to you. There is a toy wooden sword clenched in a small chubby fist. "You want me to fence with you, Othin?" He smiles wider. You take a sword out of his sweaty palm, and he grabs a shield. You sigh and climb over the fence. You kneel in front of him to equalize your height and gently move the sword towards him. You expect the rounded wooden tip to poke his round tummy but instead it hits the shield with a dull thud. Othin peeks from behind the shield and gives you his best mischievous grin.
He cannot yet stand but he is hiding behind a shield. You stare at him in shock. Then you poke again. He is swift, he even rolls into a tight ball, his sturdy little legs and arms not sticking out from behind the wooden circle.
You spend the next hour having so much fun that you do not notice the King entering the library. He finds you lying on the floor on your back, balancing your youngest son on your stretched arms, his stomach on your bent knees. Othin is squealing in delight.
"Ada!" You put him down and he is holding his hands out to the King. He gets picked up and twirled around the room. They both are laughing, and you smile enjoying the warmth and happiness of having these two men in your life. The King lowers Othin back into the playpen and picks up a sword.
"Would you like to play, Othin?"
The youngest prince of Erebor pouts in the exact replica of his father's expression and demandingly proclaims, "Ama!"