Healing Hope

Chapter Ten

Little Love

“A thousand words will not leave so deep an impression as one deed.” Henrik Ibsen

Elrond finished the last of the splinting of Estel’s arm. Sariboril helped him by holding the arm steady, and Elrohir had prepared the molding clay-like substance that would be applied around the splints and which would harden to a protective cast. The arm was simply too badly damaged for just splinting alone.

Alternately standing, sitting and pacing in the family healing room adjacent to the surgery tucked away on the third floor were Elladan, Legolas, Erestor, and Glorfindel. They would have preferred to be inside the surgery, but every time they attempted to enter Sariboril would growl at them to get back out.

‘Honestly,” complained Elladan, “you would thinks she would at least let me in there.”

The other three looked at him with astonished and amused looks on their faces.

“And just why, pray tell, should you be allowed in there when we are not?” asked Erestor, all but daring the twin to claim a familial preference.

“I would like to hear the answer to that question as well,” said Glorfindel, raising his eyebrow in his best imitation of Elrond.

Legolas just looked back and forth between the pair before glancing back at the twin.

Elladan had the good grace to blush slightly. “I did not mean to imply that I have more claim to his love.”

“I would hope not,” huffed Erestor.

“But,” continued the twin, a bit more forcefully, “I was there the night he was born.”

“You were?” said Legolas, surprise written on his fair face. “I would like to hear that story.”

“I have never heard you tell that story either,” said Erestor, suddenly very interested.

Elladan glanced at Glorfindel. “I never told anyone about it, except El.”

“Would you share it with us,” asked Legolas softly.

Elladan sat down next to Legolas, a far away look in his eyes as he began to speak of the night just four years ago.

It was cold…so very cold…and El and I were traveling to the Ranger’s compound…

The twins were taking gifts for the Winter Solstice…blankets and woolen socks, sweetmeats and pastries baked especially for Rangers and their families. The winter had been particularly harsh and there was much sickness, so they also carried extra medical supplies to supplement the Ranger’s depleted stock. Arathorn’s child would be born soon so they planned to do some hunting to compensate for the extra patrols he was doing while covering for so many of his sick men.

At midday the heavy clouds shadowed the sky as though it were twilight. Soon it began to sleet. The bits of ice felt like pin pricks hitting their faces. The going was slow and they debated turning back, but overriding their caution was the knowledge of how much the supplies would be needed. As it grew closer to darkness the paths became especially treacherous, even for the elven trained horses.

The twins were some miles from the encampment when they encountered Arathorn. He was leading a horse on which sat Gilraen. The sickness had become so bad in the encampment that he feared for Gilraen and the child she was carrying and had set out for Rivendell before the weather set in. Now he was nearly frantic to find shelter for the child was on its way.

As Elladan and Elrohir rode towards them the horses began to sniff the air and act spooked. They had picked up the scent of orcs and were warning the pair. It would not be long before the orcs were upon them. The twins rode as quickly as they safely could to reach Arathorn and Gilraen. The look of relief in Arathorn’s eyes was short lived when they told him what the horses had scented.

Resolve replaced the relief on his face as Gilraen moaned softly from the back of the horse. Arathorn glanced around the area, as though getting his bearings.

He handed Elladan the reigns to the horse. “Elladan, there is a cave system nearby, just over that rise. Take Gilraen there and protect her. I am going to lead the orcs away from here.”

“No, Arathorn, let us,” Elrohir insisted.

“We can take care of the orcs,” Elladan added, but Arathorn would not listen.

“No, take Gilraen to the caves and guard her. You will be more protection for her than I. My child is to be born this night and I would know that my wife and child have a chance for life.”

It was obvious from the set of his jaw that to argue was useless, and the orcs were growing ever nearer, emboldened by the darkness of the day.

Elladan sighed at his friend. He always was a stubborn man. “I will take Gilraen to the caves and protect her. Elrohir, you go with Arathorn to lead the orcs away. But for Eru’s sake, hurry back here. I know nothing of the way that Edain women give birth.”

That brought ghost of a smile to Arathorn’s face. “I rather think the basic mechanics are the same, but don’t worry, it usually takes hours and hours for a baby to come.”

Elrohir gave his brother a look that spoke volumes of the relief he felt to be facing orcs and not childbirth.

“Just hurry back,” Elladan stressed. “Fear not, Arathorn, I will keep your wife and child safe.”

“I know you will,” he nodded, relief and gratitude evident in his eyes. Quickly he gave Gilraen a kiss and started off with Elrohir. They planned to come up behind orcs and lead them away before they got close enough to scent the horses or laboring woman.

Taking the reigns of Gilraen’s horse Elladan started in the direction that Arathorn had pointed. He knew the caves the man mentioned. One would be perfect for their needs…deep enough to quarter the horses out of the storm and also to mask the smoke of a fire. He would, at least, be able to keep her warm and dry. With any luck at all, Arathorn and Elrohir would be back before the child was born.

The sleet had covered everything with a white sheen that made the going slow and treacherous. Elladan could see that Gilraen was wet, cold, and in pain. His heart ached for her.

“Hold on, Gilrean, we will soon be in shelter.”

She tried to smile her thanks, but another spasm of pain cut off her breath. Her skin was so pale and she shivered violently from the cold, but worst of all was the fear that that the twin could see in her eyes. He wished that his Ada was here.

Elladan led Gilraen’s horse while the elven horses followed, and they soon made it to the cave. It was perfect for their needs. Elladan quickly checked it out to be sure that no orcs hid within, and then led in all the horses. They were grateful to be out of the weather and did double duty in blocking some of the cold wind from entering the tunnel and as lookouts. Their senses would alert the twin long before any enemy could creep upon them.

Gilrean was moaning softly again and a fine sheen of sweat had broken out on her forehead. Elladan knew that could not be good, especially as cold as she appeared to be. He lifted her from the horse and helped her to sit with her back against the cave wall. Then he retrieved one of the woolen blankets to wrap around her shoulders while he made the fire. Obviously this was a cave often used by the Rangers, for there was a plentiful supply of dry wood for fire.

Elladan quickly came back to kneel beside the woman. “Gilraen, your clothes are soaking wet. We must get you out of them and into something dry. Can you stand?”

Gilraen nodded weakly and leaned onto the twin’s arm as she tried to stand. Another pain wracked her before she could get all the way up. Elladan supported her weight as a gush of water splashed at her feet, alarming him to no end. He kept his voice calm as he continued to soothe her through the contraction.

Once it was complete he laid her back down. She was panting weakly and tears of fear ran down her face. “I can’t…I can’t…” she breathed over and over.

“Yes, you can,” the twin assured. “We will have a great surprise for your husband when he returns, won’t we?”

That brought a weak smile to the woman’s face before she sobered again. “Elladan, I am afraid. Don’t let my baby die. Promise me you won’t let my baby die.”

“Of course I won’t,” promised the twin. “I was present when my sister Arwen was born. Did you know that?” Elladan kept up a steady stream of conversation as he quickly removed her wet clothes and wrapped her in a blanket. He then slipped a pair of the socks on to her feet to keep them warm. In between contractions Elladan worked feverishly to make everything ready, praying the whole time that Arathorn and Elrohir would make it back to help him.

As he talked, he took a small pan from the pack horse and filled it with water to heat. He also took several more blankets and fashioned a better bed for the woman to lie on. Then he slipped one of his clean under tunics over her head. The whisper soft material would be more comfortable against her skin than the blanket.

“My Daernaneth and my Daeradar were present as was Elrohir. My Ada held Naneth and supported her while Arwen was born into my Daernaneth’s waiting hands.” He chuckled at the memory. “My Daeradar kept taking her away from my Daernaneth so that he could hold her. So you see, I’m quite familiar with what to do. You mustn’t worry.”

“Your, your father held your mother h, how?” she panted as another, stronger contraction gripped her. They were coming fast and hard.

“Ada was behind my Naneth. To give birth, Elven women squat in a sitting position supported by a member of their family. We cannot do that here, though, because there is only one of me.”

Elladan stopped his chatter when a stronger contraction forced a scream from the woman. She quickly clamped her mouth closed, fearful of attracting unwanted attention for potential attackers. “I wish I had family here.” A sob broke from her. “Elladan, help me, I’m so afraid.”

Elladan was nearly desperate. Arwen’s birth had been beautiful and peaceful; it was nothing like this. This birth was violent and painful and messy, as though it were a foretaste of the life of the Edain. He needed help!

Whistling quietly for his horse, Elladan directed the gelding to lie down on his side. “Now don’t move, boy. You’re going to be my supporter.”

“Gilrean, look, we have help!”

Elladan threw a blanket across his horse. He showed Gilraen how to squat down beside the gelding, leaning back on to him for support. The horse would also help to warm the woman.

“That, that is better,” she panted. “It makes my back feel better.”

“See,” smiled the twin. “We have our help.” He slipped around behind the woman and transferred her weight to his arms as he knelt behind her. “Put your head back on my shoulder and rest. Give me your weight, child. I will hold you until the baby is almost here. Then I will give you back to Gwend to support while I help your baby to be born.”

Elladan continued to soothe the woman and Gwend, lest the horse become agitated by her soft cries. While they awaited the birth of the baby, he tried to remember every scarp of medical information he ever heard from his Ada.

The birthing was quickly progressing and Gilraen cried out that the baby was coming. Quickly, Elladan shifted her weight to Gwend’s back, soothing and praising the horse for his aid. He grabbed one of Elrohir’s spare under tunics to wrap the baby once it was born and kneeled between Gilraen’s knees.

The pain was driving the woman to distraction and she was very nearly on the verge of panic. “Elladan, I can’t do this, I can’t do this,” she cried.

“Look at me,” Elladan commanded in his most Ada-like voice. Well, at least it got her attention. “Look in my eyes, Gilraen. Look in them! Good. Now just keep looking at me. We can do this. Now push. Push! I can see your baby’s head, Gilraen. Push!”

The woman let out a terrible scream, but she fought and she pushed. They were both panting by the time the tiny little boy slid in to Elladan’s waiting hands. The twin quickly wrapped the babe in the tunic and then turned him over his hand to rub his back. After a moment the child gave a cry and began to breathe and cry in earnest, bringing a smile of pure joy to Elladan’s face. “Praise the Valar and thank you, Eru Ilúvatar, for this precious child. It is a boy, Gilraen, a boy!”

“Is he all right? Is everything there?” she asked in the age old question of every new mother.

He looked at the tiny bundle. “Yes, ten impossibly little fingers and toes.” He held the child up to his face and chuckled at the downy soft hair tickling his cheek. “Hello, little love!”

Laying the baby safely to his side, the twin got back to work. Taking his dagger, he quickly cut the cord and tied it off. He then finished assisting Gilraen with the rest of the delivery before helping her to the makeshift bed he had prepared and handing the woman her newborn son.

Gwend got to his feet and gratefully joined the other horses. Elladan continually praised his horse for all he help he had been and the horse whinnied softly to his master.

The twin then tidied the area and added fresh wood to the fire. He placed another blanket across Gilrean and the baby for the temperature seemed to be dropping. He glanced outside to see that night had fallen and that a soft snow was quickly covering the landscape.

“Look Gilraen,” he said softly so as not to disturb the child who was now busily suckling from his mother. “It is snowing.”

Gilraen smiled up at the twin, tears of gratitude in her eyes. “My son and I owe you our lives, Elladan. I could not have done it without you.”

“You did all the work,” laughed the twin. “I just tried to act like I knew what I was doing.”

From the entry, Gwend began to nicker and shake his head, alerting Elladan that someone approached.

The twin grabbed his bow and moved to the doorway. In a few moments he caught sight of Elrohir and Arathorn running through the snow. So heavily was it now falling that their tracks would soon be covered, and they would be able to rest in warmth and safety for the rest of the night.

Elladan greeted them at the door. “Shush, you want to wake the baby?”

“Baby!” cried Elrohir.

“B’Baby?” echoed Arathorn.

“Yes baby,” grinned Elladan. “You have son, Arathorn. A fine son.”

“Up, get up off those beds, you malcontents,” said Sariboril. “How are we supposed to keep them sanitary with you warriors sitting all over them?” The feisty healer clicked and clucked at the four, but her bluster was lost on them as Elrond emerged from the surgery carrying the still sleeping Estel. A large cast encased his arm.

Elladan stopped his story and the four of them jumped to their feet at the chance to see Estel.

The four elves gathered around Elrond to see for themselves that the boy was well.

“He looks so vulnerable,” breathed Legolas. “It is amazing how fragile the second born are.”

“But they are also resilient,” said Elrond, “like Estel.”

“He looks feverish,” said Erestor.

“He looks a little pale too,” added Glorfindel.

“He has a small fever, but that should respond to the elixir prepared by Elrohir.” Elrond looked closely at Elladan. He sensed the emotions churning within his son.

Elladan reached to brush back an errant tuft of hair from his little brother’s forehead. “Hello, little love.”

TBC

 A/N The elven birthing technique was first written about by Nilmandra in her magnificent History Series.