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Published:
2023-11-14
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2024-01-23
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The Colour of Blackberries

Chapter 10: Blessings from Aulë

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Dís never criticised her intention to give birth above ground, as a hobbit who knew about her access to Bag End and Brandy Hall might have done. It was widely believed that infants born surrounded by the soil would have a better constitution throughout their lives.

“Dwarves born underneath the sky in the Blue Mountains have not suffered from fresh air,” she said after hearing about the superstition.

She inspected the items which would represent blessings from Aulë, separating out everything except for a tarnished bracelet embedded with scuffed gems and an unpolished quartz stone. Dís appeared interested in the river stones, which could certainly be kept as blessings from Yavanna if they did not meet with her approval, as they had been shaped by water and warmed under the sun.

“This one is flecked with opal,” she remarked, pointing at what Briar had thought was discolouration. “It must have been carried along the river from up north.”

As she was leaving, giving every assurance that she would visit again tomorrow, Dís patted her shoulder. “You are doing very well. Never doubt your own devotion to this child.”

Briar suspected that she had cried more these past few months than in the many years beforehand.

Just as she had promised, Dís walked down from the marketplace to visit at lunchtime. They spent many companionable hours discussing the ideal methods for delivery and immediate care. Although pregnancies among dwarves were apparently quite rare, she had given birth to two healthy sons.

“Any dwarf would celebrate upon hearing that he was an expectant father,” she hinted when Primula had briefly stepped out of the room.

“I don’t have the means to contact him,” Briar replied quietly.

Dwarves did not seem to introduce themselves using surnames or fixed addresses. Even if she wrote a letter that could be carried to the mountains by her new acquaintances, what was the likelihood that they would be able to find a blacksmith named Thorin? Perhaps it was a very common name.

Dís muttered in Khuzdul, sounding frustrated. “I doubt that anyone would have guessed a pregnancy was possible, but to leave without any means of tracking him down is incredibly irresponsible.”

As the conversation moved towards more pleasant topics, she presented the gems which had been removed from the bracelet and polished until they shone, along with the black sapphire.

“I cannot accept this,” she protested. “You said that it was very valuable-”

“With this, I am offering to act as a proxy for the paternal line. You approached me for help, and not my husband, who would just as willingly have taken on this important role.” Dís paused, then said, “Primula is already doing an excellent job of representing the maternal line, so I understand if you do not wish to accept my offer. It would simply mean that I would assist you as though we were family.”

“Nothing would make me happier,” Briar replied, feeling considerably more at ease.

On the hardest days, when she could not go outside without risking being seen, and her stomach refused to settle despite the different herbal remedies which Primula attentively prepared, and the weather reminded her of being buried beneath blankets during the Fell Winter—Dís would clean the snow from her boots at the entryway and come inside to stoke the fire, quietly telling another story.

According to dwarven folklore, there was once a magical quern-stone which could be used to grind anything without the necessary raw materials. It was taken across the seas by an ancient king, Mysing, who commanded that slaves use it to continually produce valuable salt. Eventually, the ship sank beneath its weight and a whirlpool formed where the quern-stone was submerged, spreading outwards. Thus, the waters of the sea have been salt ever since.

Briar often fell asleep listening to stories about dwarven warriors and righteous nobles, thinking that she would have liked to document them so that they could be heard again in the coming years.

At other times, Dís recalled historical accounts of Durin the Deathless’ founding of Khazad-dûm, a prosperous city in the Misty Mountains which was elsewhere known as Moria. She could name each successive generation and describe their achievements in craftsmanship and battle.

Among them was a princess, Marís, who petitioned the court to recommence trade with a neighbouring settlement that had been suffering from famine. When the king refused, arguing that there was nothing to be gained from allying with the weak, Marís voluntarily exiled herself and travelled down the mountainside to offer what assistance she could.

While walking along the Gladden River, she found that there was gold glimmering beneath the mud. Marís taught the settlement how to mine for the precious metal and negotiate successful trade. Soon, it became a prosperous city, but its rulers never forgot how they had been slighted.

“Not long now,” Dís murmured, adjusting the blanket to prevent her from becoming cold.

“Thank Yavanna and Aulë,” Briar said fervently, which made Dís laugh.

It was the worst physical pain that she had ever experienced, nearly causing her to lose consciousness several times and making it impossible to form coherent sentences. Fortunately, her friends were both experienced with midwifery and kept her from becoming absolutely terrified.

Dís quickly removed everything that would need to be discarded while Primula dried the infant with warm cloths, whispering a welcome to the world in which she would be dearly loved.

Despite everything, Briar could not stop herself from smiling at the infant in her arms. “Marís,” she named her daughter, believing that a hobbit name might not serve her well, given that her ears were rounded and it was possible that she would need to wear shoes. If the Shire proved inhospitable to a fauntling of mixed race, then she would not have her daughter’s name be a cruel reminder.

Briar remembered standing at the roadside when Thorin had described the pendant as unworthy. “You are the most precious gift that he could have ever given me,” she told her daughter sincerely.

Dís gave a short speech in Khuzdul now that the name had been decided upon, as was traditional. The infant was born to a room filled with flowers, hand-stitched linen and precious stones. Most importantly, she was greeted by those who were determined to ensure her happiness.

Notes:

The tale of the magical quern-stone is based on Norse mythology, specifically Grottasöngr.