Durin, who was very young when he came to this world, stood beside the fields and watched the farmers working tirelessly. They worked hard, but there was always a smile on their faces.
The joy of surviving a calamity was something he couldn't understand at that time.
It was only later that Durin gradually came to understand that living like a person, with one's own land, and reaping one's own harvest, was worth the hardship for these people.
Just like those farmers now, who brought their children, lined up in queues, and whispered to each other cautiously.
To them, their offspring were also a form of cultivation and harvest.
But how should I put it? The bloodlines of the farmers were too mixed. At the first Manor, Durin conducted a hundred ceremonies in one go, and only seventeen children out of the first hundred-person control group advanced.
