A/N: Hi, all! Sorry for the lack of updates. There's lots more of Aníron to come, however, so don't despair! I apologise if the formatting is a bit off. This is just a small, bittersweet ficlet: the title means 'Wish'. Enjoy!
It was a cold winter's night, and the strong, icy wind infiltrated the lofty stone halls. Screams and cries of pain echoed along the deserted corridors. Everyone gathered outside the bedchamber's entrance, talking worriedly amongst themselves. They feared the Queen would not last the night.
She lay in her bed, writhing in pain and crying out, sweat pouring off her fair brow, exhausted by her exertion. But she could not stop now. Her King looked helpless – he healed many that were in pain and near death, but he could not heal his own wife's agony. It was something that only she alone could end.
She was almost delirious as she tried once more, pushing herself to her outermost limits. The pain wracked her body again. Her nurses spoke to her kindly and gave her encouragement and direction. She wished it were over. She could not take it much longer. All her husband could dowas hold her hand and mop her brow and hope that she was going to last. The herbs he gave her did not dull her hurt.
The pain came back once again. She pushed once more. Nothing.
She turned her head to see the night sky outside, with only one star - the brightest, the most beloved. Her kin. She wished that her parents and siblings were here to help her through this torment but they had left her forever.
'Ada,' she whispered. 'Please help me. Please.'
Even as she said those words, comfort filled her heart. She found a new strength as the pain returned. It did not hurt as much as before. She was not so exhausted. She was not so alone. She felt that her family was beside her. She felt their love. She knew that the end was near.
She looked at her nurse, who smiled back excitedly at her. 'We are almost there, my lady. Just once more.'
She knew what to do. When the next wave of pain came, she pushed with all her might, all her strength. She squeezed her King's hand so hard he thought she may as well have broken it. Her face was red from her effort. At last, she was rewarded.
A great, strong wail suddenly rose. She fell back on her pillows, a great smile on her face. It was over. Her husband grinned too, tears in his eyes.
'Vanimelda,' he whispered, kissing her forehead. 'I'm so proud of you.'
A nurse carried the squealing, blanketed bundle to the King and Queen. She too bore a large grin.
'My lord, my lady – your son.'
She gently placed him in his mother's arms, where he immediately settled down. He opened his eyes and looked at her with the most beautiful blue stare.
'He is perfect,' Arwen whispered.
'And so beautiful.' Aragorn gently touched his son's brow.
Aragorn sat beside her, with one arm around her shoulders, and his other hand on top of his Queen's, clutching their son. The people would have to wait to hear of their new prince. For now, he was content to stay here, just the three of them.
Many miles away, a nervous father stood anxiously, awaiting news. He was worried that he was not with his daughter at her greatest hour of need. He could feel her pain and her despair. He felt helpless.
He looked towards the sky. He saw the same bright, beloved star.
'What news, Ada? What of my daughter?'
His wife silently appeared behind him and took his hand.
'Do not worry. She will be fine.'
'I know, but I cannot help it. I worried for you and I will worry for her.'
He kissed her hand. Suddenly a wide smile spread across his face.
'My love? What is it?' She asked.
He happily sighed and turned to her.
'Her son was born this night.'
Celebrían smiled, her silver hair shimmering in the starlight. 'I'm sure he is beautiful. I wish I could see him.'
'I have already seen him,' Elrond replied. 'He is fair and noble, a beautiful child. He looks so much like her.'
Although he was happy for his daughter, he still held bitterness in his heart that she was not there with them. But that was her choice, and he could not dissuade her. She chose both the sweet and the bitter, to share a mortal life. And mortal she would be.