Chapter 48 - Rose.

30th April, 3021.

Rivendell was alight with candles.

It was the wee hours of the morning, long after midnight yet before the sun had come to grace the Valley of Imladris. One wing of the Last Homely House blazed like a beacon. Every window was lit with the flickering light of Elven candles. If one were to observe, one might see silhouettes flitting back and forth before the windows. There were many figures contained therein, and their movements swift and busy.

Still, the house was chiefly silent. If any noise were to be heard, it was only to be the quiet voices of Elves in close discussion. The Sindarin words were neither sharp nor piercing, and did not travel far. However, the presence of the lights were in themselves an oddity. Elves did not require the sleep of humankind; yet, though they were oft awake at this hour, Rivendell maintained an air of serenity and silence in ordinary circumstances.

At that point, a groan could be heard carrying across the empty night. It was moan of a woman in some distress, and following it's cry the movement of the silhouettes quickened. Another sound followed it some short while later, and yet another. The cries grew in intensity and volume, though they would not have seemed over-loud save that no other sound arose to compete with them.

The wing from which the light and sound issued was occupied by the permanent residents of the Last Homely House. Few save Elrond Eärendilion's family lingered in those quarters ordinarily. Tonight, one might spy a multitude of fresh faces in passing. Most of these individuals had no real purpose; rather, they fluttered about, performing odd jobs to occupy their hands whilst wearing plaintive expressions. Soft Elvish voices drifted about the hallway at the entrance to the wing. If one were permitted to pass by unhindered, one might discover that the activity lessened considerably towards the other end of the wing.

The source of the woman's sorrowful noises appeared to issue from an unassuming door some distance along the main corridor. Outside lingered a small cluster of figures; two dark young men, so alike in stature and features that few could distinguish them, an equally sable-haired Elf, and a girl of small stature.

The latter leaned against the stone wall.

"Gosh, I hope it's over soon," she sighed, rubbing her cheek. "This is exhausting."

"I feel as if Elanor might agree with you," put in one of the twins, with a wry grin.

Georgia, turning to study his face, smiled back. "Probably, Elladan."

The twins surveyed her with unfeigned amazement. "And how," inquired the other, "do you manage to distinguish us so, Lady Georgia?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "Elladan is most likely to crack a joke like that."

All three Elves broke into laughter at that, and the fourth member of the small contingent grinned with additional exuberance. He met Georgia's hazel eyes with a twinkle, for Erestor observed something that the twins did not; a tiny fragment of red ribbon pinned to the back of Elladan's arm.

"Still, this has been going on for hours," Georgia continued, letting her back slide down the wall till she sat on the floor.

"I believe that is the way of childbirth for humankind," shrugged Elrohir, joining her on the floor.

"I think so," the young woman agreed, "though I never had to actually wait for a baby to born. Normally I just hear about the baby later and go and snuggle it."

"Rest easy, Ruinë," replied Erestor, calmly. "Master Elrond and his healers shall manage your sister with great skill and care."

Georgia wrinkled her nose at him. "I know. And I still wish you'd tell me what Ruinë means. Neither Elanor or Glorfindel will tell me!"

"Perhaps they're a little busy at present," murmured Elrohir, with a twinkle.

The girl directed a withering look in his direction before returning her gaze to the opposite, blank wall.

Most of the household had burst into wakefulness from the moment that Indilwen had knocked on Lord Elrond's door. Five minutes later, the Master of Rivendell had discretely entered Elanor and Glorfindel's chambers. Therein, he found Glorfindel wearing an anguished expression, and Elanor sitting calmly in their shared bed. She had smiled nervously at her foster-father as he joined them, followed by a small retinue of healers. They had swiftly and efficiently overtaken the room, spreading additional sheets on the bed and filling the room with an aroma of Elvish disinfectant. To Elanor, it was a balmy, lemony aroma which helped slow her pounding heart immediately.

Georgia, woken by the sudden increase in traffic in that wing of the house, had scurried into Elanor's room amidst the chaos. She had flown agitatedly between Glorfindel, several business-like healers, and her sister, who wore an expression of mixed joy and fear. After ten minutes, Elrond had calmly requested that all of the additional guests within the room depart. By this point, the superfluous members included Erestor, the twins, Georgia and several servants with an especial soft spot for Elanor. Having been expelled from the birthing room, they had milled about like lost sheep. The servants had dispersed, leaving the quartet to sit and bemoan the wait. Elanor had gone into labour around 11. In Georgia's estimate, it must be close on three in the morning, and they had been sitting desolately in the corridor for hours.

"Why don't we go to Elrond's study," sighed Georgia, at last.

"An excellent notion," nodded Elrohir. "Ada should not mind—and it shall be far warmer there before the fire."

"And far more comfortable," grinned his twin, digging the other in the ribs. "Come—let us go."

The group trooped down to the Master's study. Georgia sighed as they entered. Her lower back and bottom ached dully from sitting on the hard floor, and she was horribly sleepy.

At least they can't take photos if I fall asleep on the couch!

As always, the hearth in Elrond's study was lit with warm, flickering flames. Georgia slipped through the circle of armchairs to warm her hands before it.

"Cold, Ruinë?"

Georgia stuck out a dainty toe to ankle-tap Erestor as he walked past. Unfortunately, such gestures were lost on the agile Elves. He merely nudged her foot back with his own boot-clad toe and raised his eyebrows at her. Accepting defeat, Georgia claimed the largest couch and lay down upon it.

"There is naught to be gained from your remaining awake all the night through, Lady Georgia," remarked Elrohir, taking a chair himself. "It is likely that Elanor shall not bear the child till the morn."

"I want to be awake for it though," said Georgia, firmly, all the while her eyelids drooped uncontrollably.

"Sleep, young Georgia," murmured Elladan, absently.

"We shall wake you ere there is news," added his brother, joining the other three around the fire.

This caused Georgia to smile. She curled up on her left side, trying to ignore the undercurrent of worry which plagued her on Elanor's behalf. Somehow, she felt a great deal more responsible than the exhausted waif who had discovered her sister in Minas Tirith amidst the noblewomen. Since then, she had ventured back across Middle-earth, discovering the love of a rather gruff Rohirric king along the way, and found herself anxiously anticipating the birth of her nephew or niece.

Who would've thought, came the sleepy voice.

Mmm…

As challenging as the relocation to Middle-earth had been, Georgia found herself supremely content as she drifted towards sleep on Elrond's couch. Much had changed since the day both she and Elanor had disappeared. The younger Ravenscroft girl had never felt so thankful as that morning on Elanor's wedding day when they had cleared the air between them. She had always loved Elanor, despite bridling at her persistent mothering in past years. Still, there was a great deal that was alike about the pair of young women, and it was like a warm buzz in Georgia's stomach to think of the precious memories they now shared.

And soon, a little mini Elanor-and-Glorfindel hybrid to snuggle…

That'll be nice… I hope he looks like El…

Mm…

"You have a daughter."

Tears mingled with sweat on Elanor's face. Her vision was blurred and she could scarcely see the faces leaning over her. Half a moment later, however, a squirming, shrieking bundle was placed upon her chest. Blinking rapidly, she willed her arms to pull tight the little individual who had been inside her mere minutes before.

Glorfindel's face neared hers and planted a soft kiss on her damp cheek. His mouth worked as if he meant to say something, before he subsided in a chair beside her bed. One hand rested on her shoulder as Elanor glanced back down at her child.

Everything in her body hurt. She had no idea what time it was, nor how long her labour had extended. All she was aware of was the intense pain of pushing out a child—and the utter miracle which she held.

Desperate to see her baby, she shuffled slightly and readjusted the tiny creature's position on her chest. Her baby was still wailing softly, but as Elanor turned her upright she quietened. Cradling her on one arm, she stared into the face of her firstborn daughter—and was flooded with unadulterated joy.

Elanor had never seen anything so perfect.

The tiny girl was curled up with her miniscule hands near her face. She was rather red, but otherwise unblemished and utterly beautiful. Elanor's chest was tight with emotion as her fingers travelled along the tiny body. She had a small, straight noise, and thick dark lashes. Her head appeared bald, though Elanor convinced herself that it was coated with a fine layer of golden fuzz. Her face were smooth and her cheekbones high. At that moment, the tiny girl gave another squeal—and opened her eyes in protest. They were a deep, dark blue.

"She looks like you," Elanor murmured, when her voice returned, glancing to her husband. Glorfindel appeared not to hear her, so enraptured was he by their baby. He drew his gaze away for a moment, turning the sky-blue eyes to Elanor.

"I was about to say the same of you, meleth."

Elanor smiled tearily, tracing her daughter's cheek again.

"You should hold her," she whispered.

Glorfindel leaned forward and gently took his child from his wife's arms. He lifted her with utmost care, pulling her towards his body like she were more precious than the finest jewels. Elanor watched as he looked down at her baby—their baby—and her joy was complete.

"She is beautiful," Glorfindel mumbled, in Sindarin.

Elanor smiled wearily and closed her eyes, lying back on the cushions.

I cannot imagine being happier…

Added to her agony was an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. She could sense several of the Elvish healers moving about her. Part of her was dimly mortified about the fact that they were tending to her medical needs as they lay there. Having her body bared to the world was hardly a dignified experience. Rather than dwell on it, she did her best to ignore the sensation and opened her eyes to see her small family. Glorfindel was besotted with the tiny baby in his arms. With that image fresh in her memory, Elanor closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.

Glorfindel breathed slowly to steady his thudding heart.

The bundle in his arms was almost weightless. She was swaddled in fresh blankets, and had been bathed in a sweet-smelling soap which wafted delightfully towards his nostrils.

The disbelief and amazement which filled his being could not be articulated in words. Ever since the moment that Lord Elrond's healers had announced the arrival of his tiny daughter, he had struggled in vain for words. Now, some two hours after the baby's delivery, he still grappled with the powerful emotions which saturated him.

No one had yet been permitted to disturb the new, small family. Lord Elrond had departed a little time before, perfectly satisfied with Elanor and her child's condition. Glorfindel had watched his master's broad grin as he swept out.

Glorfindel ambled slowly towards the windows of their chambers, bouncing slightly to soothe the baby. Outside, the sun was beginning to set; Elanor's labour had been upwards of twelve hours. For now, she slept, and would continue to sleep until the baby required feeding. Turning, he continued his circuit of the room, this time drawing near to Elanor's bedside.

His slender wife lay curled up to one side. She was pale, and her golden hair curled in damp ringlets about her forehead. After resting a little, she had insisted on a bath, and now smelled as pleasant as her small daughter. To Glorfindel, Elanor appeared immensely childlike. Her form was shrunken without the child in her womb, and her naturally-slim hands were curled near her face.

She is beautiful. They both are.

The loss of Idril had caused a certain aspect of Glorfindel to withdraw, even after his return from the Halls of Mandos. It was, to the Eldar, unthinkable that one might love twice in one's span. Nevertheless, Glorfindel had admittedly lived twice—and found in the waning of the Third Age of Middle-earth the greatest joy his heart could contain. That had merely been doubled at the birth of his child; she was, in herself, an utter delight, but he was filled with elation that she was also Elanor's baby. As much as his wife insisted that she looked like Glorfindel, he was certain that the Valar had heard his plea that the child should bear resemblance to her mother.

He smiled.

"You look so happy I hate to disturb you," came a raspy voice.

He whirled as fast as he dared with the precious bundle. Elanor was sitting up in bed, smiling in unreserved bliss.

"As do you, young mother."

Elanor burst into laughter. "Oh, hush. You'll make me feel horribly old."

"Old? Never." He settled himself into a chair next to her bed, after placing her daughter in her arms. "She might need food soon."

"We ought to name her," Elanor crooned, looking down at the perfect face before her.

"I have been pondering on such matters," grinned her husband, "and I have several alternatives to present to you. Are you ready, lady-wife?"

"Yes," she smiled, brushing the child's face with her thumb. Glorfindel couldn't help but grin again. His wife's unsophisticated fascination with their baby was his greatest pleasure.

"Seeing as the baby's lovely mother is named after a flower," he said, in his gentle Sindarin, "I have followed this theme. Thus I present to you—Alfirineth."

"Meaning?"

"It is the Elvish name for a flower, the Good Pirin. It is a flower which opens and closes with the day and night."

"It's pretty," his wife replied, noncommittally. "Any others?"

"Nínimeth—'snowdrop'. Also Lassel, meaning 'leaf', and Gilorneth, or 'star tree'."

"I like them all—though none of them resonates with me as much as I had hoped. Any others?"

"Only one—Merileth."

Elanor repeated it, as if to taste the name on her tongue. "Merlieth. What does it mean?"

"Rose."

She frowned thoughtfully. "Somehow, it feels rather too refined and lofty for a baby. Still," she smiled, "she has an Elf for a father, and I suppose she shall surpass all others in beauty as she grows to womanhood. Do you like it?"

Glorfindel looked a little sheepish. "I held it for last, as I hoped you might choose it over the others. Good evening, then, little Merileth."

For a few minutes they sat in silence, both rapt in the tiny baby. Elanor reached out with one hand to grasp Glorfindel's fingers, which rested on her shoulder.

"Darling, might I ask you something?"

"You may ask whatever you desire, vána."

"I realise it's a rather large question, especially as we are in Middle-earth—but I thought that maybe she ought to have a second name, too."

Glorfindel nodded eagerly. "Would you choose one of the others?"

Elanor looked down and flushed pink.

"I had—rather hoped—I mean, could—could we pick a name from my world? Nothing over the top, I know, don't worry—oh, we don't have to, it was just an idea. Don't—"

Glorfindel's face flushed with shame.

Oh! How thoughtless a creature must she think me, to neglect so shamefully the world from which she hails!

"Elanor—of course."

"Oh," she cried, concerned. "I've upset you! I am so sorry. We don't have to do it, not at all! Forget I mentioned it." She punctuated this with a smile of such genuine goodwill that he was reminded poignantly of the reason he had wedded her. There was no malice or hidden resentment in her glance. Glorfindel knew that if he protested, she would settle on an Elvish name with as much pleasure as something from her own lands. That, in itself, made him long to hold her all the more.

"No—I think it a beautiful idea. She is as much your daughter as mine, nor is she merely a product of Middle-earth. It would bring me joy to know she bears a name which honours her mother."

Elanor smiled. "How do you like Katharine?"

"Oh, El, she's an absolute—oh, there's nothing to describe a newborn baby," sighed Georgia, her face alight. "Oh!"

Elanor grinned at her sister's wordless exclamations. It was the following morning. With Elrond's consent, she had graduated to an armchair from the bed. As Indilwen had departed with their breakfast trays, a flood of visitors had slipped inside. Foremost amongst them had been Georgia, Elladan and Elrohir. The former had run immediately to her sister's bedside, whisked Merileth from her small bassinet, and fallen to cooing over her unceasingly. The twins had turned to the proud father, congratulating him in Quenyan and making jokes which were utterly unintelligible to the women of the room.

Elanor found herself watching both parties with equal pleasure. After a short while, Elladan broke away from the group and demanded Georgia relinquish his niece. She did so, reluctantly, and moved to sit by Elanor.

"How are you doing, sis?" she inquired, squeezing her hand.

Elanor nodded. "I'm well. Really well. It was painful and awful—giving birth, that is—but little Merry is worth it."

"Merry?" Georgia laughed. "Won't you get her confused with our hobbity friend?"

"Never," came the firm reply. "Did Glorfindel tell you her full name?"

"No?"

"Merileth Katharine."

Georgia's hazel eyes widened. "Katharine? As in, K-A-T-H-A-R-I-N-E Katharine?"

Her sister nodded again.

The younger flung herself on Elanor, pulling her into a tight embrace. They held each other wordlessly for a time, before Georgia withdrew and rubbed what looked suspiciously like tears from her face.

"You—you named her after Mum."

Elanor found that she also struggled with tears. "I did."

Chapter 48 has come much more swiftly than I anticipated. I simply couldn't stay away - especially as I can confirm that there are only TWO MORE CHAPTERS before Elanor's story wraps up! I realise how close that is - but soon you will know Elanor's fate in Middle-earth... and we get to finish on a nice round 50.

I have been planning this for some time, and I guess I wanted Elanor and Glorfindel's child to have some kind of special significance to both of their heritages. I thought it would be sweet for her to have a flower-name, like her mother, but I can't imagine that Elanor could forget her heritage and not include something of our world in her child's name. Thus, we have little Merileth Katharine.

It shouldn't be too long before Chapters 49 and 50 are released. I have a firm outline of what they shall look like, and I only hope you will read them with as much interest as their predecessors. Thanks for journeying with me thus far, and I wish you all the best.

- Finwe.