The first sign was the colors. The rainbows splattered on everything. Then came the fluffy woodland creatures with big soulful eyes. And they surrounded Elfhild--all this garden fluff. All the dreamy and cute images, all the maidchild-play, was the first omen, the sign that foretold her doom. The irony made her smile...almost.

Elfhild awoke from her dreams, knowing them to be a sign; the wise woman had confirmed that. The overwhelming joy had engulfed her, leaving her in a state of bliss that held on for so long. Now the joy had settled inside of her, and rose at times in her incrimsoned cheeks as she patted her gently swelling belly, as she was toasted by the court in the Golden mead Hall. Yes, Elfhild queen of Rohan was with child at last. As all expecting mothers she laughed softly and dreamed of her child. A little boy or girl, she didn't care. She had a baby...and that baby would kill her. But she had made that bargain. Without a child she would have surley died of grieff--now...now the child would be the cause. But she did not care, she did not care. She did this for Theoden...though he did not know of her plight. How could she tell him? Let him live for a time in ignorance and bliss...while he could. But mostly she did this for herself, and her pride. The pride of the scyldings.

Rhiannon came often to see Elfhild, to check on mother and child and how the pregnancy was progressing, and always she left smiling sadly. On her last visit, she had said, "Queen Elfhild, listin! The ninth lunar month draws near...but your child is eager to begin life new. I shall be close and ready. It will happen soon."

Elfhild felt her heart flutter...from joy and then a passing shadow of panic she quickly quelled. "How will I know?" she inquired. The wise woman smiled. "You will know." And she did. The sun was lolling  in the western sky...the bleeding sky...when she felt the first contractiones. Biting her lip, with a wave of excitement she reached for Theoden's hand. "It's happening!" she breathed. His eyes lit up like the bonfires at Beltane. He didn't know.

Soon the contractiones grew closer together, and Elfhild did off her regal gown in exchange for a linin chemis. The woman of court--her close friends and those who had some experience in birthing babies--gathered round her in her chambers. Freya ran off to the village for Rhiannon. The time had come; a silent clap of thunder. Soon the Wise Woman and lanky child returned to find Elfhild--round as the moon--pacing her room, breathing heavily. Rhiannon smiled. The same sad, knowing smile. The queen wondered if she'd ever been happy as a lass, or if she had always had some extra sensory perception that let the world's plight constantly ebb into her heart.

*

The room became a whirlwind of white linin, blood, and midwives. The night had come and would soon be over, and still her ladies' commanded her to push. Elfhild cried out and moaned, and then bit her red lips, hopeing to at least hold her child before...before...she didn't think it would end this way. Rhiannon crushed belladona and Lady's Mantel into a chalice of wine, and brought it to the queen's trembling lips.

Elfhild grasped the ruby ring in her hand--the one Theoden had given her--and then cried and grasped the edge of the chair she sat on, which, despite the ladies' efforts, was ridgidly uncomfortable. Rhiannon kneeled before her, her hands wet with blood, never scolding or looking tired. She just cooed and spoke in soothing tones. "There, there, moder, all shall be fine. You'll see." Elfhild could not see this. In fact, aside from her huge white belly, she couldn't see anything, but only pushed. Her misery had come to a climax, it seemed, when she cried, "please, please, lay me down!" Lay me down to die here. She knew the birthing process would be slowed, but she felt her body could no longer take it. Her ladies' lay her down in her bed.

Suddenly, another spasm of pain seized her, and she screamed and grasped at the midwife standing nearest. Rhiannon pushed several ladies out of the way and was soon there by the queen, as she promised to be when it happened. She wrenched a child slick with red blood from out between Elfhild's thighs amidst a rush of fluid. "It's a boy!" She cried almost breathlessly. The baby's cries, startlingly new and clear, broke the tension in the room. Elfhild relaxed, and opened her arms to recieve the child. They placed him in her arms. "Child, my child; my life and my death." The queen stared lovingly at the baby.

But then, her gaze grew fixed. The fire faded in her emerald eyes. Those were her last words. The ladies' all stiffled a cry. All were suprised save The Wise Woman, and Freya, who stood silent beside her. Rhiannon gently took the child out of his mother's arms, and swadled him in linin. She handed him to Freya, who removed him from the room. Then the silver eyes of the old woman shone with tears as she pulled the white sheet up over Elfhild's glassy eyes and wan face. The first rays of morning shone palely on the queen--still smiling. Frozen forever with that countenance, with that look of soft content with life. Elfhild was dead before the dawn. Long she awaited her sorrow.

*

The Chant of the Dead followed freya as she walked down the dark hall. The dawn's golden rays--pale and cold--lit the path before her. It was there she met Theoden, walking slow. He saw her, this young child, illuminated in misty yellow light like an angel. Within her arms was a tiny, breathing baby, surrounded by folds of bloody linin, like he was still cradled in the womb. His child. With a look wrought of pain and sorrow the angel girl held out her arms, displaying the child. "Please, take your son, sir."

Theoden made a fleeting gesture, his fingers turinging out as though he would take the baby...but the funeral chant had reached his ears. And he understood at last the secret his bride had quietly kept, the doom she chose for herself for him. He saw what he believed he had done to her. And Freya quickly held the child close to her beating heart as Theoden King collapsed before her and weapt.

* * *