August 1 FA

Lothiriel stared blankly out the open window across the wandering hills of her home. She had spent all night awake and was exhausted; but nothing could force her to take rest. Near to her by the warmth of the fire lay Elfwine, fussing noisily in his cradle. His covers had become loose, wakening him from his slumber and he had resumed crying again. In fact the young Prince had spent most of the night crying, keeping those around him awake and making his Father nervous.

The Queen did not move but continued to stare out the glassless window. She heard her son cry but could not bring herself to comfort him. She felt nothing for him; she felt nothing at all; she felt numb. Barren, they had told her. The complications of her labour and rendered her desolate. She knew she could not blame the child but his mere presence, his very being was the reason she was an incomplete woman.

As Elfwine's cries grew louder they began to draw the attention of those around him. Brewyn- the child's nurse maid- appeared as if from nowhere and scooped the child up. As she settled him, the young woman perched herself on a nearby stool and cooed over the young Prince quietly. Lothiriel glanced at her son whilst he suckled at the young woman's breast then glared at Brewyn with contempt.

Since her own milk had dried up, Brewyn had been employed to feed and care for Elfwine, it tortured Lothiriel to know that she should have been sharing this precious moment with her son and some stranger with her own child to care for had taken it away from her,

"Can't you do that somewhere else?" She snapped.

Brewyn looked up from her task and said quietly, "Yes my Lady. If you allow me a minute I will just collect his highness'' things."

"Now," Lothiriel commanded.

The nurse looked hurt by the Queens brusque tone, but understood the suffering she felt at that moment marred her judgement. She hadn't known Lothiriel long but knew the woman wasn't an unkind person as many spoke of her warmth and compassion before she had given birth. Brewyn felt a great sadness for her and could not even start to comprehend how she was feeling at this moment, or how she would cope if their places were changed.

Brewyn closed the door silently and left Lothiriel alone in the royal chambers. Standing from her seat near the window the Queen paced around the well-appointed room. Since their son had been born all sorts of new things furnished the space; pieces that had been made especially for the young prince. Lothiriel came to Elfwine's crib and stared at it for some time, she felt the hatred and anger burn in her very core. She knew there was nothing she could do and the feeling of helplessness made her bitter. Even through the years of war no matter how desperate or bleak the outlook appeared she had been able to solve problems that had occurred. Now as she searched for a way out of the mess that presented itself she could not fathom a solution.

As she felt her agony fill every fibre of her being, the Queen could bear it no longer and took her frustration out on the oaken cot. It was not a heavy object and was easily turned over by the hurt woman. It soared across the room with such force that it splintered as it made contact with the stone floor. Lothiriel thought her anger would subside but didn't feel the emotion ebb away, so turned her attention to the trinkets and ornaments above the fireplace. In one smooth motion she swept them all with a deafening crash onto the floor with.

Lothiriel was now sobbing with fury and was about to topple a dressing mirror onto the floor, but she suddenly felt her arms being clamped by her sides and strong hands pulling her backwards to a man's chest. This sudden force preventing the Queen to continue destroying her room made the woman scream in torment, muffling the cries from her husband begging her to stop her destructive intentions. The Queen continued to thrash against Eomer's restraints forcing him to lower both of them onto the floor where they sat for a long time.

Lothiriel was so consumed with sorrow that eventually all she could do was succumb to sleep, and so she did in the arms of Eomer. The King stroked his wife's head protectively as she rested for the first time in what had seemed days. He would be lying to say that he didn't share her grief, but he could not dare to imagine how she was coping with the knowledge that she would never bear another child.

Elfwine's birth had been enjoyed by everyone in Rohan and Gondor; a healthy male heir in the House of Eorl was certainly a reason to celebrate after the bleak winter the people of Rohan had suffered. However, when Ealdwen had announced to the young King that the complications during his delivery had rendered his wife infertile, he felt his insides ripped from his body.

Eomer had intended filling the halls of his house with many children; Lothiriel had grown up with many siblings and appreciated her shared love for all of them, and in turn wanted the same for his own family. Since the news had been broken he had put on a brave face for the sake of his court and people. The news wasn't common knowledge – only those close to the couple knew the truth- so the young King bore the weight heavy on his heart in private.

In the past few weeks the new Father had spent as much time as he could with his son, although he felt a fresh new pain every time he looked upon his face, Eomer understood the importance of bonding with his child. Slowly it had become easier for the King to bear and he had learnt to love every little eccentricity the infant displayed innocently. For now however, he had to accept that Elfwine's existence meant that they would never again become parents. However he hoped in time Lothiriel would see past her anger and suffering to witness their son's beauty for herself, and knew she would feel the same love he had for him.