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Winta paused in collecting little white daisy flowers when a pair of familiar brown boots stopped in the grass in front of her. She looked up, squinting into the sunlight bouncing off the Mandalorian’s shiny helmet— Din’s helmet. He had recently told her his name and said she can use it, even if it still seemed a little strange.
“I would like your help,” he said, right to the point.
“With what?”
“Tomorrow is… a special day. I want to prepare a picnic,” he sounded unsure and shifted on his feet.
“Like with food?”
He nodded.
“And fruit juice?”
He nodded again.
“For momma?”
He hesitated, then said, “for her and for you.”
Winta considered. Din was very good at shooting things with his blaster, lifting heavy objects, and fixing things, but he wasn’t very good at making food or organizing anything fun. He would need a lot of help if it was going to be a good picnic. It had been a long time since Winta got to have a picnic with her mother, and if they were going to have one, it should be a good one. Her mind made up, Winta put the flowers she had gathered in her pocket and stood up, brushing the grass off her knees.
“Ok. I will help you. But you have to do everything I say.” She was pleased when Din nodded very seriously in agreement. He offered her his hand to take as they walked back to the house.
“Have you ever had a picnic before?”
“It was very long ago. I was younger than you are now.”
“That’s a very very long time,” Winta frowned. This was going to be harder than she first expected.
—
They went back home and Winta hunted down the largest basket they had. It was currently full of neatly folded laundry, mostly Winta and her mother’s dresses but there were a few of Din’s shirts and his socks in there as well. It was still a little strange to see his things mixed in with theirs. He had come back at the beginning of winter and it was well into summer now so he had been around for a while. Maybe it was just strange because Winta kept expecting him to leave again. He did leave sometimes. He had a ship and he would fly away in it. He always came back within a few days so far. But one day, he might not. Winta emptied the basket and went to meet Din in the kitchen.
He was removing the jars of fruit juice from the ice box and considering them.
“Meiloorun or Jogan?” He showed them to her.
“Momma likes Jogan.”
“I know she likes both. Which do you like better?”
“Meiloorun.” Winta admitted. He put the Jogan juice back and packed the other into the basket she offered him. She got busy finding all the things they would need, like a blanket to sit on, cups, and napkins. She paused when she passed her mother’s favorite vase up on a high shelf. Her mother liked to fill it with flowers and pretty plants on special occasions. Winta wondered if this would count; come to think of it, Din hadn’t told her what the special occasion was.
“What is this picnic for?”
“Maybe I just want to do something nice for you and your mother,” he said, helping to organize the picnic supplies in the basket. “You both have been very kind to me.”
“You said it was a special day. Are you going to ask my momma to marry you?” She asked. Some of the other adults had been talking about that when her mother wasn’t around and they thought Winta wasn’t listening.
Din shook his head. “Not tomorrow.” He started pulling out the ingredients for sandwiches with his back turned to Winta. “What would you think if I did, a-ask your mother to…” he paused to take a deep breath, “marry me?” He was fiddling with the bowl of krill in his hands and not looking at her. She considered him for a long minute before answering.
“Momma smiles more when you are here and she gets sad when you leave. If you married her then you would have to stay and that would be good. She likes you a lot.”
“And what about you? Do you like me?” He came back over to the table and sat down across from her. Winta paused in arranging the cups to look at his helmet. She thought the helmet was scary the first time she saw it with the dark slit where his eyes should be. It was easy to think that he was frowning or angry all the time under the helmet, but the more he was around the more she thought he probably smiled a lot under there, especially around her mother.
“I think you are like a long-leg-bug.” She declared and he tipped his head to the side questioningly. “You look like a scary spider but you aren’t. You only eat bugs that are bad for the garden and you never bite people, so you are very good to have around and not mean, even if you look like you should be.”
Before he could respond, the porch floorboards creaked and rattled as someone walked over them; Winta’s mother was home.
“Quick, in the basket!” Winta order Din.
“But—”
“Hurry! You’ll ruin the surprise! ”
He put the sandwich materials into the basket quickly and Winta jumped in front of it.
“What are you two up to?” her mother asked walking in with her gardening tools in hand and looking suspiciously at the strange pair she found in her kitchen.
“We were—”
“Checking for beetle-ants!” Winta lied before Din could spill the secret.
“Oh?”
“Yes. None here though.”
“That’s good. Well, I hope you put away the laundry that was in that basket.” Her mother went into the storage closet to put away her tools, briefly disappearing behind the curtained doorway.
“Hide it there,” Winta whispered to Din and pointed under one of the counters, “and you will owe me!” He nodded very seriously and she ran off to put away the laundry she had dumped on the floor before her mother saw it. She was carrying her dresses back to her room when she caught their voices floating through the kitchen doorway. She knew that eavesdropping was bad, but she stopped to listen anyway.
“What were you two talking about?” her mother asked Din.
“She was telling me that I’m a long-leg-bug.”
“Hmmm. That’s the first I’ve heard of it. Where are you hiding your other legs then?”
Din chuckled. He had a nice laugh, Winta thought, even if he didn’t do it very often. “She meant it as a compliment… I think.” Winta almost went on putting away the laundry thinking they were done talking when he spoke again quite suddenly. “You’re sure about this? This… is ok?”
“Only if it is what you want.” Her mother sounded very serious which confused Winta. She couldn’t figure out what they were talking about.
“I… yes. It is,” Din admitted in reply.
“Then I’m very sure,” her mother said. Winta thought she heard shuffling, Din’s armor clanking, and then a hissing sound like some kind of air releasing. She definitely heard the unmistakable sound of kissing, and Winta didn’t want to listen to that, so she went back to putting away laundry.
The next morning came, and Winta was practically vibrating with excitement. She did her morning chores as quickly as possible and helped Din get all the rest of the picnic ingredients ready before they went to collect her mother from the krill ponds. The three of them set off into the woods towards Winta and her mother’s favorite picnic spot. It was a lake side clearing with a stream that ran from it, making little pools along the hillside that you could step in and catch little frogs and fish. Winta kept telling them to hurry up and walk faster, but they were old and slow, so it took a long time to get there. She ran off to see the little pools while Din and her mother set up the picnic. They called her back when everything was ready to eat.
Winta stood over the spread with a smile of satisfaction. Yes, it was a wonderful picnic. Thanks to her Din had gotten all the necessary items. Her mother patted the blanket beside her and Winta sat with her across from Din.
“Did Din tell you what today is?” her mother asked, brushing some stray hair from Winta’s forehead.
“No. What is special about today?” Winta asked the Mandalorian. He was fidgeting with something in his lap and took a long moment to respond.
“When I was young, not much younger than you, something terrible happened to my home—the place where I was born,” Din explained softly. “I lost my parents, but I was saved by someone—a Mandalorian. A while later that Mandalorian decided he would look after me, take care of me until I was old enough to take care of myself. So on this day, many years ago, he adopted me—I became his son and he became my father from then on.”
“Was he a nice dad?” Winta asked.
“He was…” Din hesitated and looked away, his helmet flashing in the sunlight. “He taught me many things, how to survive and how to be a Mandalorian. It isn’t an easy thing to teach. I owe him a lot.” Din took a deep breath and glanced down at the object he was fiddling with. It was shiny like his armor but Winta couldn’t make out what it was. “I would like… if you would be… if it would be ok with you, to do the same... for you. To adopt you. You would be my daughter, and I would be your father.”
Winta tensed up and tried to figure out what that would mean.
“Would that mean that the baby—that Grogu would be my brother?”
Din nodded. “He would.”
“Would that mean that you would stay with us forever?”
“For as long and as often as I can.”
“Would you marry momma?”
Din swallowed. “Maybe, if she wanted to marry me. But that’s something else. I care for your mother, but I care for you differently. If I adopt you, it isn’t because I’m marrying your mother and if we don’t remain… together, her and I, I would still be your father. I would still care for you, protect you and do whatever I can to help you.”
“But I’m not Mandalorian like you.”
Din shook his head. “Grogu isn’t Mandalorian, and he is my son. I wasn’t Mandalorian when my father adopted me either. It was something I chose to become. We have a saying ‘aliit ori’shya tal’din’ . It means ‘family is more than blood’. Your family is who you care for and who cares for you. Mandalorian, Jedi, or whatever you decide you want to be.”
Winta looked at him thoughtfully. Din was nice, and he protected her and her mother. He made her feel safe, and he helped her when he could, though he needed a lot of her help too, obviously. If he was her dad they could look out for each other and both look out for her momma. It would be nice to have him around forever—or as much of forever as possible.
“Ok. I would like to be your daughter then.”
He let out a sigh that sounded like relief and said some more words she didn’t understand: “Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad, Winta. I know your name as my child. Haat, ijaa, haa'it. ” He lifted up the object he was fiddling with and motioned her forward. Winta shuffled a little closer on her knees curiously. He looped a cord over her head and let the shiny pendant fall into her palm. It was an odd skull-like shape with curving horns.
“From this moment forward, you are my daughter. I will protect and care for you, less you disown me, until my last breath.”
“What is it?” Winta asked him, turning the pendant in her hand.
“A Mythosaur, the symbol of the Mandalorians. If you need aid from a Mandalorian you can show that to them and tell them you are Din Djarin’s daughter. They will recognize the beskar and what it means. It is very valuable, so be careful who sees it.”
“Ok,” Winta nodded, smiling at her new necklace, She flopped back into a sitting position and looked up at his visor. “Should I call you ‘dad’ now?”
“You can if you wish.”
“What did you call your Mandalorian dad?”
“Buir . It means father… or mother, actually.”
“Boo-eer,” Winta tried out the word and nodded, smiling to herself. She had a whole family now: a mother, a father, and a brother, even if he couldn’t be there right at that moment.
“Ready to eat?” her mother asked.
“Ok,” Winta nodded enthusiastically, until it struck her suddenly. “But wait! Where will Din eat?” She looked around the clearing and the sparse tree cover nearby. There was nowhere hidden where he could remove his helmet without being seen.
“The only people here are you and Omera,” Din said. “You’re family now. I don’t have to hide my face from family.”
Winta’s eyes went so wide she thought they might be coming out of her head. Surely he was lying. But Din reached up to the sides of his helmet and it made the hissing sound of escaping air as it started sliding up. Winta stared at the stranger sitting in front of her in Din’s armor and holding his helmet.
He looked…soft. His face was kinda round and his nose was curved. He had big brown eyes that were deep and warm with little lines around them that crinkled. His hair was dark and curled a little, partly stuck to his head from the helmet she’d guess, and there was some dark hair across his jaw, his chin, and his upper lip. He swallowed and cleared his throat, a crease forming in his brow like the one her mother got when she was unhappy but it was deeper on Din. He reached over to the napkin with their sandwiches and picked one up, holding it out to her.
Winta took it slowly, still staring at his face. She bit into her food without looking away. He took a sandwich and bit off a corner, munching it while he watched her watching him. She swallowed her bite.
“You have a nice face.”
His eyebrows rose and he paused his chewing.
“That’s good. I wouldn’t want my dad—my buir to have an ugly face.” She stumbled a little over the unfamiliar word but she figured it would take a little getting used to.
He swallowed his bite of sandwich, wincing as it went down like he’d forgotten to finish chewing, but he was smiling too. Yes, Winta thought, it was a nice face, especially when he smiled.
“Momma, you should have one too,” Winta turned to pass a sandwich to her mother. “I taught him how to make them just the way I like.”
Her mother was grinning but whipping her face like she was crying.
“What’s wrong?” Winta asked, suddenly afraid that she had made a mistake.
“Nothing, baby,” her mother assured her, pulling her daughter into a warm embrace. “Everything is wonderful.”
Winta wriggled in her mother’s arms enough to look at Din—at her buir.
“Now that you’re my dad, you have to join family hugs too,” she primly informed him. Din’s smile grew even bigger and he got up, circling around to sit behind Omera and pulled both of them against his armored chest. Winta heard him kiss her mother’s head and then felt him bend down to place a kiss on her hair too. She smiled into her mother’s shoulder.
It was, she decided, a very special day and the very best picnic ever.