To LOTR-nutcase : Wow… you're right! I do use a lot of same words over and over again very close together! I never really realised that, I just type and type and type lol. Thanks for telling me, I'll pay more attention to that now.

To Carcilwen Thorned-Rose : I always thought pheasants were just for eating! Hahaha… can they fly? I mean, they always just sounded like fancy chickens to me.

To Elven Sword : Haven't decided about the runaway baddie! If they meet him he's gonna get it but if they don't, then he's a lucky dude.

Hehe… since I have not begun talking about the story ending yet, of course there's more! =0) Since I ended my last story (Love's Mysteries) at the wedding, I thought I'd take this story beyond that. I mean, things don't just end at the wedding, they begin! And of course we must give dear Elfwine some mention!

Chapter 29 : Elfwine

Two years later…

Éomer paced the hallway anxiously, trying to block out the screams that were coming from his room. Is it supposed to be so long? Lothíriel had gone into labour what seemed an eternity ago, and he had been most unceremoniously chucked out of the room. "There is no place for a man here," Caira had told him briskly before the door was slammed in his face. With each piercing cry of pain he winced, and once he slammed his fist on the floor as he plopped himself down against the wall, which simply resulted in his own yelp.

The door opened, and Freda slipped out. She looked around for him, and jumped a little when she realised that he was just sitting on the floor by her feet. He began to get up, demanding to know what was happening, but she motioned for him not to move, and plopped down next to him. "Caira said that she had all the help she needed inside, and suggested that I come out and accompany you, before you go mad all by yourself."

"Good suggestion," he replied hollowly. "But what's going on? Is she all right?"

"She's just like any other woman would be in such circumstances," Freda told him calmly. "In pain. But don't worry, plenty of women before her have survived such a trial, and plenty more will. Everything will be fine." She studied his face, pale and drawn. "You look exhausted. I think you should get some rest. It could be an hour or two more…"

"An hour? Two?" Éomer paid no attention to Freda's advice. "That long? That's how long she'll be in pain?" His heart ached at the thought. It seemed to him that such pain could only be justified on a battlefield. He grimaced at the memory of the short war he had fought in against the Haradrim with Aragorn. He had been wounded there, and had to be brought back to Rohan on a stretcher after being treated at the Houses of Healing. It hadn't been very serious, but he remembered the pain, and shuddered to think of it. Now he could imagine the same sort of pain inflicted on his wife. "If only the wives could just deliver the children while the husbands suffered the pain."

Freda smiled. "That is a wonderful idea, my lord Éomer. But I cannot see how you're going to make that happen. I think you really do need some rest. You need to keep your strength. The queen will need you later."

Éomer was about to protest when a heartrending scream pierced the night, followed by a foreign wail. Éomer and Freda jumped to their feet, but Freda signalled for Éomer not to try to enter the room. "Caira will come out for us when everything is taken care of," she said. "Then you can see your wife, and…" She smiled. "…Your child."

Éomer swallowed. My child. For nine months he had thought of almost nothing else, and yet this night it had completely slipped his mind, so preoccupied was he in worrying for Lothíriel. Suddenly his mouth went dry, and he thought that his knees were shaking. He was a father, and he could hardly believe it.

Just as he was in the middle of his panic attack, the door opened, and out came Caira, cradling a little bundle. She gave him a triumphant smile. "This hasn't been easy on your wife," she said. "But congratulations, my lord, you have a beautiful baby boy, an heir to the throne of Rohan." She held the baby out to him. "Be careful now… mind his head."

Éomer held the baby as gently as he could, focusing on not dropping the child. Caira was right; he was a beautiful baby boy. "Thank you for everything, Caira," Éomer said gratefully.

"It is my duty, my Lord Éomer," Caira said graciously. She gestured into the room. "I believe the queen is waiting for the both of you."

Éomer nodded, and entered the room after Caira.

Lothíriel's was breathing heavily, her eyes closed and her face pale with exhaustion. She opened her eyes when Éomer crossed the room and sat down on the bed by her side. "Éomer…"

Her forehead was glistening with sweat, and Éomer reached out to smooth her hair back. "Keep your strength, Lothíriel," he said gently.

"I want to sit up. Just a little," Lothíriel said softly.

Éomer glanced over at the healer, and Caira nodded, coming over to help Lothíriel up. "You've done well, my Queen," she said reassuringly. "Your son will be a very strong lad, I can tell."

Éomer placed the baby into Lothíriel's arms, and wrapped his arms around his wife and child. Lothíriel smiled wearily, her head resting on Éomer's shoulder, and held her son close. Caira, knowing that she was no longer needed, exited the room silently, not wanting to disturb the family. No one noticed.

"What should we name our son?" Éomer asked, kissing Lothíriel's cheek.

Lothíriel smiled at the lovely child. "Elfwine."

This chapter is relatively shorter compared to the others but I thought that the birth of Elfwine definitely deserved a chapter all by itself!