Labour of Love
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“Stop it!” she snarled, turning on her husband. “You may be a
healer, but what do you know of childbirth?”
“And you!” she added savagely
to her brothers. “Why Naneth left instructions for you to help me
at this time … I will … never … know!”
She began to pant, breathing hard and pushing, leaning back into
Aragorn’s arms. She fell against him with a groan and a
triumphant cry, tears of joy and exhaustion streaking her face as
her cry was answered by a shrill, plaintive wail.
“Your son,” Elrohir whispered, kissing her brow. “Well
done, little sister!”
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