These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien and New Line Cinema. This story was written purely for pleasure and not for profit.
Warning – this chapter describes childbirth and may distress sensitive readers.
A child is born
Arwen dismissed her ladies so that only alone with Ioreth and Éowyn remained. She positioned herself on the birthing stool, with the midwives supporting her either side.
The voluminous shift she was wearing got in the way. Between contractions, she tugged it over her head much to Ioreth’s horror.
“Lady Elfstone!” she exclaimed, “This most unseemly!”
“My people do not suffer inhibitions!” Arwen said through gritted teeth, “It is not as if you are seeing anything you have not seen before!”
“Let her be, if she feels more comfortable,” Éowyn advised, supporting the Queen. She moved behind Arwen, supporting her with one arm and massaging her back with the other, all the while murmuring soothing words of comfort. She wished fervently that she had Aragorn’s unique healing skills.
Arwen gave an ear-piercing shriek at an especially fierce contraction.
“Bear down, it is time to push now, “ Ioreth commanded. “I can tell from your breathing. You are almost there!”
Arwen screamed all the louder. She felt as if her body were being torn asunder. She clasped Éowyn’s hand in a bone-crushing grip.
“The head has emerged.” Ioreth announced. “One more big push, you can do it, Lady Elfstone!”
Arwen made a final supreme effort and felt her child slither its way into the world.
The baby slipped into Ioreth’s waiting hands. Gently she lifted it and placed it on Arwen’s chest.
Time seemed to stand still. Then the lusty cry of a newborn babe broke the silence.
“A fine healthy boy!” Ioreth announced. “Congratulations, Lady Elfstone!”
Blinking back a tear, Éowyn moved round to kiss her friend on the cheek before draping a blanket round her and the baby.
Tears of joy and relief freely coursed down Arwen’s face, now she held her firstborn in her arms. Although still covered in the detritus of birth, he seemed to her to be the most beautiful being she had ever beheld, with his tiny chubby body and fuzz of black hair.
Éowyn expertly tied the cord before cutting it with a sharp knife, while Ioreth called for water and towels to be fetched to bathe the newborn prince.
“Have you thought of a name?” Éowyn enquired while they waited for the placenta to be delivered.
“Estel and I decided on Eldarion if we had a son,” Arwen replied, tenderly cradling her child. “Could you send someone to tell him he is a father, if they have not done so already?” she asked.
“A good kingly name, though I hope it will be a very long time before he succeeds his father,” Éowyn replied. Arwen reluctantly relinquished her hold on her child and allowed Ioreth to bathe him and wrap him in a blanket while she dealt with the afterbirth.
Ancient tradition decreed that the baby could not be dressed until the King had inspected him and declared himself satisfied.
Ioreth then examined Arwen thoroughly and pronounced her healthy with no damage apart from some slight bruising caused by the birth.
“You will be able to give Lord Elfstone more children,” Ioreth informed the Queen.
“Do not mention it, this is the first and last!” Arwen snapped.
“Every woman says that,” Ioreth cackled, “Including a lady of my acquaintance who went on to have ten more!”
“I think not!” Arwen retorted. Éowyn led her over to the bed where she gently bathed her and applied a salve of arnica and marigold, before helping her don a finely embroidered linen nightgown.
“Aragorn has been sent for, so let me help you look your best for him,” Éowyn soothed, as she brushed the Queen’s long black hair. “Later you can have a bath and I will massage you and the baby after he has spent some time with you.”
“I want my baby!” Arwen fretted when Eldarion cried pitifully from the far side of the room. “I think he is hungry!”
Éowyn hesitated. The rules stated that the Queen was not advised to suckle her newborn child until after the King had acknowledged it. Given Aragorn’s nobility of character, Éowyn was certain he would never disown his child.
Taking the baby from Ioreth, she handed him to his mother and helped Arwen position him correctly. It never failed to amaze her how so soon after birth, an infant knew exactly how to obtain nourishment.
Holding the babe to her breast, Arwen gazed at him with such fierce tenderness that it brought more tears to Éowyn’s eyes. Despite all her reassurances to Aragorn, she had been terrified that something would go wrong and that she might lose her best friend to the perils of childbirth. She felt overwhelmed with joy and relief that everything had gone so well. Her guess had been correct, as Eldarion was obviously full term after the usual human term of gestation. She felt impatient now for her own child to be born.
A Lady in Waiting was despatched to summon the King as soon as the midwives were satisfied that all was well.
**
An exhausted Aragorn was still sitting beside Faramir when Lady Morwen knocked on the door.
The Steward was still very seriously ill but Aragorn was daring to hope that as he had survived so far, maybe he had a chance. His fever was now causing him grave concern, though.
When he heard the summons, he roused Imrahil, who was still dozing on the couch and then opened the door.
Lady Morwen beamed at him, her news obvious even before she opened her mouth. “My Lord Elessar!” she said, “Your are summoned to the Queen’s chambers if your lordship pleases. Your lady has been delivered of a healthy child.”
“And my wife?” Aragorn asked anxiously.
“She is well, my lord.”
Aragorn gave a deep sigh of relief. He would have wept had Lady Morwen not been present. At last something had not gone awry on this day. Arwen and their baby lived and were well. He offered a silent prayer of thanks to the Valar.
After hurriedly washing his hands and changing his shirt, Aragorn summoned Tarostar to share Imrahil’s vigil over Faramir. He commanded them to call him at once if there were any change.
His heart pounding with anticipation and relief, he made his way to the other side of the Royal Apartments. He wanted to rush inside and see his Queen. First,though, there were ancient customs to observe.
As tradition dictated, twenty nobles and members of the Council were waiting in the anteroom outside the Queen’s chamber.
On being informed of his arrival, Lady Meril brought the baby to him, wrapped only in a blanket. She unwrapped the bundle so that the King could inspect his child.
Aragorn saw a fuzz of black hair, sleepy blue grey eyes, perfectly formed limbs and ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. He felt an overwhelming sense of love towards this baby, so small yet so perfect. This, at long last, was his son, the child he had waited for so long.
“My Lord Elessar?” Lady Meril’s enquiry jolted him back to the need of the ritual words he had to speak now, part of an obscure and ancient tradition where the King was required to publicly acknowledge his heir. If he refused to, the babe at best would be raised in obscurity, or at worse exposed on the mountainside. Aragorn shuddered, now he saw his child, the very thought made him recoil in horror.
“This is my son. The King has an heir!” Aragorn said in a loud voice for the assembled nobles to hear.
He wanted to scoop up his son and hold him securely in his arms, but first Lady Meril had to parade the infant for the assembled Council Members to inspect.
The Lord of Lebennin prodded the infant curiously, as if expecting the offspring of an Elf and a human to have four legs or some similar oddity. Indignant at such treatment, the baby started to howl.
The strain of this dreadful day was taking its toll. Aragorn suddenly found the whole procedure barbaric. This was his son, a living, breathing child, not some piece of prize horseflesh! No future child of his was going to suffer such indignities, tradition or not!
He strode over to the assembled nobles and took his son from the lady in waiting, wrapping him securely in the blanket and cradling him in his arms.
“You have seen the babe is healthy, now be gone!” he roared in a voice, which brokered no argument.
“But sire!” Lord Dervorin of Ringlo Vale protested.
“You have seen my son, now he needs the comfort of his mother and warm clothing on his skin. The demands of the law are fulfilled, you have seen the child and I tell you now to depart. I, King Elessar have spoken!”
Dumbfounded, the Nobles filed out. The Lord of Lossarnach alone remained as Aragorn made his way towards Arwen’s chamber. “Congratulations, sire!” he said, “Shall I order the bells to be rung now as custom demands?”
Aragorn nodded and managed to smile at the young man. “Yes, the citizens deserve to know they have a Prince: though whether they will welcome being awoken at nearly midnight is another matter. Thank you, my lord, I fear today has been somewhat trying.”
Still carrying his infant son, Aragorn followed Lady Meril into the large bedchamber where his Queen lay resting.
Aragorn hastened to his wife’s side, handing the baby to the hovering Éowyn, who quickly dressed him. He took Arwen’s hand. “My love, he is so beautiful, thank you,” he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. “Was the pain very bad?”
“It was worth it. Already the memory is fading. Estel, I am not made of glass!” She pulled him towards her. He took her in his arms and kissed her tenderly.
When they pulled apart, Éowyn handed the baby back to his mother and discreetly retired to the next room.
For a few moments, Arwen contentedly cuddled her son before looking up and studying her husband’s face.
“Whatever is wrong, Estel?” she asked anxiously, “You look as if you were the one who had given birth. I have never seen you look so exhausted!”