Author's Note:
You may have missed three updates before this.
Arathorn
The sound of an infant happily playing broke through the heavy layers of his slumber. He stirred slightly, and wrapped one arm around his wife.
"Your son is awake," he rumbled in her ear. His voice was still rough from his sleep. Gilraen laughed in her pillow.
"He is always my son when he is in need of something, is he not?" She teased him gently. Arathorn gave one humph and pulled her deeper into the covers. Gilraen gave a small shriek of surprise.
"Shush," Arathorn whispered. "Else our son will know we are awake."
"What a pity would that be?"
"Indeed."
Arathorn barely stopped speaking when something small and heavy landed happily on top of them. Arathorn's eyes snapped wide open and instincts took over. Gilraen grabbed his wrist before his hand retrieved the knife under his pillow. She laughed and pulled the small being under the covers. It was none other than his son, barely a year old, grinning toothily at him. Bare feet kicked him playfully on his stomach. Arathorn mockingly scowled at him before grabbing him in his arms.
"I will show you a thing or two," Arathorn said to his son before tickling him. Shrieks of laughter filled the modestly decorated cabin. Gilraen lay back against her pillows and watched father and son play with a wide smile.
