[ooc: oh I know it's super late! D: and not super long, but I hope you like it! #yaypapasonbonding?]

Life had always been hard for Bain. Being the Eldest of three, and Sigrid being more mature than himself, it was tough. What was tough? The fact that he was expected to behave like his father - well, that was accomplished, you can put a check mark next to that. He was always getting into trouble. ‘That son of Bard’s is a mess’ one person would say (mostly Mrs. Opal who lived closer to the shore), or ‘You’re starting to look like your father, boy’ (the nearest drunk on the corner, usually some snide remark from a guard, and sometimes it was said with love intended - but, let’s face it, it was rare). Either way, it left Bain feeling a little hollow inside. Like he had no idea how to be his own person - almost.

Almost. When he was away from the townspeople, in the secret places that only Gard knew about when he needed to come and find him, he could be himself. Make all the stupid jokes, and pretend to talk to the pretty girl who lived down the street (if Bain had any sense, he would have asked his father about girls, but as they say in teenage-boy-ez: eh.)

Fact of the matter was, he didn’t really spend all that much time with his father. So, when he came home, only to head out again, Bain left shortly after. He followed his father from a distance, watched what he did. When he (Bain, for his following his father rather beside him, than directly behind him) passed by a tavern, he could hear laughter, and listened for the particular laugh of the only town drunk he had in his acquaintance. But, Bard continued on, so that meant that Bain must as well. He walked along, lost in his own thought until he came to a view that Bain had seen a million times before. Everyone had.

The sight of the Lonely Mountain - once inhabited by Dwarves, and visited upon by Elves. There were  several spectacular views from all points along the lake, and along the shore. This one was no different. Bain smiled to himself as he took it in, and watched his father for a few moments; deciding at the last minute to try and get closer. To see if he could hear anything his father might be mumbling to himself, to get a better sense of the man he admired so much from a distance. Heh, how unfortunate that the wood slats under his feet should betray him! Like they were saying, you should talk with him, lad, you might not have another chance for a while.

So, instead of stopping, he continued on; relaxing his posture, and stuffing his hands in his pockets like he fully intended to be here, but it didn’t stop his heart from pounding with fear and anticipation of the harsh rebuke that could - potentially - come from his father. Yes! Alright, he should be at home helping Sig  looking after Tilly, and their nephew, Gard.

But… but… and Bain fought himself to keep a calm composure. If his father ordered him home, then he would go without complaining. And when Bain was close enough, he waited for his father to speak to him, hoping it would be a kind word. 

His father should have yelled at him. Should have told him to get back to the house, protecting the family, and making sure that Sigrid and Tilda were not alone. His duty was to the part of his family that were still living, still capable of carrying on. But, to Bain, his father counted in those numbers. In as much as he was prepared to give a speech on the spot, stumbling with every word as he tried to get his thoughts together to defend himself, to give an explanation.

But the tight hug his father gave him instead stunned him into silence. He didn’t quite know how to respond. He wanted to hug back, to cling to his father, to inhale the linger smell of the lake water and soapy scent that was familiar since birth, that smelled like mom, but only slightly. To see if he could allow himself to give into his emotions, and let out all of his frustration, all of his stress, and anxiety that he was too young to contend with. Growing up so fast, and only having Gard to live out some sort of childhood, and allowing Tilda to live without fear of anyone except the Master.

But before he could find out, his father pulled away, and instant regret pooled in the pit of his stomach. He let it stew there, staring up at the concerned face of his father. A small smile tugged at the edge of his lips, and he shook his head. “No, everything is fine back home. You stepped on that loose board by my door…” Bain explained, smiling bigger, “I just wanted to make sure that you’re  doing alright… you are, right?” Bain asked, his eyes staring into his father’s. “It’s the mountain, isn’t it?” He asked, without hesitation, only fifty-percent sure that this was problem.

Ever since those Dwarves came there had been a type of worry that the young man had not seen in his father before - not even … not after…

Bain looked at his father as he began to speak.

ooc: omg... so damn short... I'm so sorry! if you need more, just let me know, and we can brain storm ideas of how to take this forward...also, if I have the time frame wrong, I can edit the speech...