Disclaimer: With respect to the Mr. Tolkien *bowing* and his estate, I do not claim The characters of The Lord of the Rings as my own.

Please excuse the dates. This is, after all, a fan faction!

Around the Shire, jaws dropped when Mr. Drogo Baggins announced that he had spoken for Ms. Primula Brandybuck or Primmy as Drogo always called her. No one expected that would really happen. After all, Drogo had been courting Ms. Lily Proudfoot, a very attractive young hobbit lass though very needy and a bit of a ditz by definition. Then came Primula. Beautiful, graceful, and fair to say the least, but that was not all that had attracted him to her.

Drogo's sister, Dora who had labelled all the Brandybucks as "queer" whether it was warranted or not, said that Primula was only after the Baggins name and that was all. Needless to say, Drogo paid her little attention.

Year 1368, 2nd age of Middle Earth

Primula lay soaked with sweat in bed at Brandy Hall. Her bright red hair was like a rag, soaked through and through and now lay over one shoulder while her bangs stuck to her face. Her full lips parted to release a gasp. "Daisy!" She felt a sharp pain beginning in her back and rattled through her body in less then a second.

Daisy rush to her side. She held Primmy's hands during her contraction. Once the fit passed, Daisy leaned over and pressed her lips to Primmy's moist forehead. "Oh Daisy, I can't do this anymore. Where is my husband?"

"Oh young Primmy, hobbit women have been going through childbirth for thousands of years," she said with a smile. "Of course you can do it."

Primmy closed her eyes and weakly moved her head from side to side on the feather pillow. "Dear Drogo, where are you?" Her voice was light and soft.

"He's awaiting the birth of your child, dear. Now rest." Daisy laid her hand upon her chest.

"I need him so much."

"Of course, Primmy." Daisy made her way to the round door leading out of the room into the hallway. She closed the door behind her and leaned back against it. Primula was unnaturally pale and she lacked the spirit that she had even when she was ill. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Primmy had been in labour for a day and not much was happening. But how would she ever tell Drogo that his beloved wife was deathly pale and too weak to even begin to push?

I'll have to tell him the truth. Prepare him, she thought.

Just down the hall, the fire roared in the stone fireplace. Gorbadoc sat back in his familiar chair with his legs crossed smoking his wooden pipe. Next to him was his wife, Mirabella, busy knitting in her rocking chair which creaked rhythmically with every rock.

Drogo stood looking at the fire. His hands resting in the pockets of his red breeches and his black shirt had two buttons unbuttoned.

"Come now, Baggins!" Gorbadoc's deep voice struck Drogo directly and echoed through out the dimmed room. Drogo looked over his shoulder.

"Keep a stiff upper lip, Drogo my lad. Prim's all right."

"I haven't seen her for six hour, dad. I can't help but worry about her," Drogo lowers his eyes a bit. He took one hand out of his pocket and ran his fingers through his wavy sandy hair.

"Oh, Gorbadoc," said Mirabella's voice was soothing she smiled fondly at the tiny blanket she had been knitting. "Let him alone. He's about to become a new father and we, grandparents. He's just nervous."

"Mr. Baggins!" Daisy appeared from around the corner. Her long locks flowing behind her. "Mr. Baggins, Primmy needs you." Daisy was visibly out of breath. Drogo took her by the shoulders.

"Daisy, is Primmy all right?"

"She's…very pale and hasn't made…any progress."

Mirabella and Gorbadoc sprung up like jack rabbits. The look on Drogo's face was that of shear horror.

To be continued…

*So what do you think? Reviews are welcomed!!