Now knowing that both of her babies were all right, Nerdanel had only managed to stay awake long enough to see their faces, to finally cradle them both in her weakened arms.
Fëanàro supported one on her left, while keeping his other arm wrapped securely around her shoulders, and Maitimo on her right, who was whispering to his mother how much they looked like her.
With all the blood and fluids wiped away, they did indeed have their mother's red hair-and their oldest brother's, who had been the only red-head among his sons until now.
She lovingly stroked a finger over their tiny red-soaked heads to their tiny, leaf-shaped ears, stroking their soft, unblemished cheeks.
The one supported in Maitimo's arm yawned his little mouth while the other in his father's caught hold of his mother's lingering finger, and Fëanàro's heart clenched at the endearing sight.
"Ambarussa," was all she had whispered with a wan smile, and he immediately knew that she had whispered the mother-name of her choice.
"For which one, my love?"
But for which one, they would know not until she woke again, for she passed out in his hold from exhaustion, hand falling limp and head resting on his shoulder, and Fëanàro quickly (but gently) passed his youngest son into Makalaurë's awaiting arms.
While the healer hastily attended to her, and for all of her reassurances to him and the boys that his wife will be alright, her words were a faint echo in the background when Fëanàro could only lay down next to resting wife, kiss her brow and her cheek, and would not move or respond to anything or anyone until she opened her eyes again.
He was aware of nothing else except for the tiny elfings placed between him and his sleeping wife (by Maitmo and Makalaurë, he would later recall), and their clean newborn scent and their tiny, shared fëa fluttering next to his own became his only source of comfort in that long time of waiting.
