Whitefish River but the hearts of small children are delicate organs

They are other, said Aurë, settling the matter once and for all. Dragomir's brown eyes swept up toward the sky, lips pursed in thought. It was fun to speculate about how these things happened. Once he thought he saw a star fall, but it happened so quickly, a little wink of light, that he hadn't been sure it ever really happened. He'd convinced himself he imagined it. If stars really could fall from the sky, then surely they could knock stones loose from the moon and bring them down to earth. He would hold onto that thought each and every time he found such a stone.

She went on to explain that the moonstone could heal the hurts of the soul in a fashion, bringing a ghost of a smile to the corners of Dragomir's lips as he beheld the stone. In spite of his doubts and his guilt, it was good to know his mother thought of him enough to bring him this gift to light his way. There was pain between them they needed to mend over time ... but this was a good start.

Thanks, mom, whispered Dragomir, scooping the stone close. He would cherish it always. We can't have ten or twenty though, then no one else would get any, he reasoned, perhaps a little impishly, though it was buried beneath the weight of his typical dissociation. One would do, he thought. Are there other ways to soothe emotions or just moonstones? Not for him, though he would trade almost anything to soothe his own disquiet. He asked because he wished to know how to help others, in the future.

And then Aurëwen told him more about emotional pain and how to heal it.

Fading.