#sigrfridr

“Sigrid!”, a joyous laugh accompanies the other’s name as Tilda sees her sister enter their small home. She isn’t quite sure how Sigrid will take in the chaos that welcomes her home, but Tilda is still hoping for the best. Today is a day of celebration, as it has been in Esgaroth for many years. A day to celebrate those that keep us safe, keep us steady, the stars with whom we plan our course. It is a day for mothers and many times it has been a day for sadness and remembering in Bard’s house.  Though the bargeman has always made it his duty to remember and cherish his late wife’s life instead of only remembering her death, his children could not help but miss what others had and they could never again call their own. But Tilda, being the youngest of the three, has not much of a memory of her mother. There have been different arms to soothe her back to sleep after a nightmare, different hands that taught her to make her favourite cookies, and different eyes that watched over her every step, from the first one on. Sigrid has been a mother for her in many ways and Tilda knew it was time to celebrate just that. To thank the older girl for all that she had done, even if Tilda herself could not yet understand what it truly meant to sacrifice so much for someone else. So in the early morning hours, after Sigrid had left for the market, she and Bain had took it upon themselves to change their little home and decorate it with flowers and garlands they made from herbs found at the lake's shore. The outcome of their endeavour was rather confusing. But at least they had given their best. "What do you say, Sigrid?", Tilda asked, her eyes beaming with pride. 

       The cold slap of his hand hitting hers had silenced her at once, it seems. Thorin looked up at her, a glare clearly present in his eyes. In his opinion, the only one who could touch a Dwarf’s hair and braid it, was another Dwarf. He couldn’t make an exception for Kíli, not even when his nephew was so sickly. In fact, it only amplified Thorin’s feelings of responsibility towards his kin. 

         A scoff flies free of her at the affront. “ Wow! So nice of you to finally admit it, but it definitely could have been kinder! You really should be nicer to me, Sel, seeing as I’m the only twin you have. Besides, I’m just trying to help here. At your request, might I add? ”@sigrfridr !

                ‘ really.  you are too kind…   to deserve such praise, one must do something to earn it, or so it seems. ’

                        “yes, my dear,” he says at last, in a voice heavy with exhaustion. “you’re right, of course.” & perhaps there is hope for her people ; dale will be rebuilt, brought to its former glory. he wishes he could stay to see it. "i only wish...” his voice catches & he presses a hand to his mouth to stifle a sob. he has wept plenty for his friends. still, if he starts again, he fears he won’t stop. “it’s... it’s a dreadful business, this. these sorts of things don’t happen back home.”

      The Dwarven King did not wait for her to accept or deny his offer for help. He picked up a large basket filled with potatoes and looked up at the young girl. 

our muses in a gif. | ac.@sigrfridr​ !

        a sigh left tired lips, and he turned, bringing his eyes from sigrid. she was the only of his children to ever  HEAR  his despair so  uncensored. he bit his tongue around the youngers, not wanting to stain their youth, but he had already spilt his bleak sorrow upon sigrid. she knew, and bard’s heart TORE knowing the burden he had placed on her shoulders. why did he continue to demand her support ?   it was not her place to carry him.