This is maybe about a week after the previous chapter. Whoa, I know that I wrote a lot of chapters today but I'm really in a writing mood. Good for you, huh? You might get to read the ending today. ^_^
Elvulia patted the soil around the beautiful primrose. She was working in the garden, much to Fyn's distaste. "You should be in bed relaxing," he had told her but she didn't feel like relaxing, even though her contractions had already started. No one knew except for Elvulia. If they knew, then they would make her rest in bed, waiting and waiting and waiting. She knew just as well as any midwife that it would take many hours before the actual birth began. Therefore, she kept half a minute of pain every 15 minutes a secret that only she knew. Of course, she would tell someone…but only when the contractions were closer together and longer. When a contraction started, she would just stand up and take a small rest. The gardener beside her would not argue, since she was a Lady and plus, she was pregnant. How can you command a pregnant friend of Lady Arwen to continue to work?
It was starting again. Elvulia lifted her up, with the help of a nearby bench. "Another rest?" the male gardener asked, he obviously knew nothing of pregnancy.
"Yes," Elvulia said, breathing hard, "What I hate most about pregnancy is that you're always tired." She laughed a little, despite the pain she was in. She held onto the bench until her knuckles turned white before bending down again and starting to plant another flower. "I love gardening," Elvulia said, making small talk.
"So do I, which explains why I've dedicated my life to growing flora in Lord Elrond's vast gardens," the gardener smiled. He was an elf that seemed of middle age (according to elven age). He wore ragged clothes that was stained with dirt but Elvulia didn't mind, she loved the garden. Oh no, another contraction. But the last one was only 10 minutes ago, they were getting closer. Elvulia stood up again and started breating harder and faster. "Resting again so soon?" the gardener seemed to laugh.
"Yes…" Elvulia managed. The contractions continued this way until they were only 3 minutes apart and 1 minute long. Elvulia just gave up trying to garden and sat on the bench, breathing her way through and pretending that she was too tired to continue gardening. The gardener said nothing and dismissed her excuse, not seeming to care. As Elvulia was taking breaths during the next contraction, she suddenly felt wet. Her water had broken. Elvulia suddenly panicked. She didn't want to give birth now, she was scared. No one should know. "I think I'll take a walk around the garden, take a look at some more flora," she said, standing up with difficulty.
"Very well," the gardener said, not even looking up. She walked slowly, rubbing her swollen stomach, as if telling it to calm down and relax. It was not long before she slipped and fell, due to the pain another contraction gave her. She moaned loudly, not really wanting to attract the attention of the gardener but knowing she should. The gardener looked up and walked over to where Lady Elvulia had fallen. "Goodness," he said, trying to pull her up.
"I can't…" Elvulia sobbed. She didn't want to get up, it was too hard.
"You must, you cannot give birth to your child in the garden. It is not clean," the gardener insisted, now kneeling beside her and trying to push her upwards. Another contraction hit Elvulia and she grimaced. "Shush…it's alright," the gardener tried to sooth and finally after a couple of minutes he managed to get Elvulia standing. She arched her back and shut her eyes as another pain shot through her. The gardener walked over to her for support when he suddenly realized the blood stain on the soil. "Oh no…" he muttered.
"What's wrong?" Elvulia breathed, not taking notice of the blood down her skirt. She figured it was normal, having never had a child before.
"Nothing, come on…" the gardener said, helping her inside and seating her down on a chair. "You wait here and try to stay calm. I'll get the midwives and Lady Arwen."
"And Lord Fyn," she insisted, holding onto the handle of the chair. The gardener left, hoping that everything was alright.