Ivriniel
Ivriniel worked as diligently as the midwife. She changed sheets, wiped the sweat off her sister's brow, held her hand, gave her water to drink, offered words of comfort and cleaned her when she gave birth.
Finduilas feebly protested, feeling conscious, but Ivriniel waved away her concerns.
"Scream and curse all you like, before, during and after birth," Ivriniel said wryly. "There are only women here, and none of us expect you to be courageous."
Once the babe was born, he needed to be washed. Ivriniel did that as well. She cut the cord joining him to his mother and washed him in warm water before drying and swaddling him. Then she presented the babe to his sister.
"Here we are," she said briskly, setting the babe on her bosom. "If your fortune holds, the child will be robust with some of Denethor's traits. But I hope he is not too serious."
"Ivriniel," Finduilas chided gently, knowing full well her sister did not like Denethor much. Ivriniel did not answer.
Later, when the child was shown to his father and the other nobles gathered at court, Ivriniel busied herself with cleaning what belongings she found out of their place. Denethor came to find her,and watched her silently as she worked.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "For all that you have done to make my wife comfortable."
Ivriniel paused just as she placed folded clothes into a drawer. Denethor showed gratitude rarely. It was yet another sign that he cared more for his wife than most believed him capable of caring.
"She is my sister." Ivriniel said as she set the clothes into the drawer. "I would do anything for her. That is what siblings are for."
There was a ghost of a smile on Denethor's lips.
"Siblings?" He echoed thoughtfully. Then he shook his head. "I wouldn't know. But thank you, just the same."
