I don't own it, though Tolkien's ghost knows I want to. Now if the ectoplasmic incarnation of my favorite author could somehow cede it to me...
THERE, ARE YOU ALL HAPPY? THE END OF THE CLIFFHANGER! It's had you on the edge of your seats, I'm sure...
Éowyn pushed open the door to a slightly less chaotic scene than she had expected. Rhoswen's breathing was coming in short, agitated spurts while Boromir, ever the vigilant husband, sat by her side, the former holding his hand tightly, a whiteness in his skin surrounding her fingers. Éowyn looked around, and summoned over one of the maids, who stood off to the side looking scared. The shield maid immediately took charge, addressing the maids.
"Go to the houses of healing and ask for a midwife-tell them we're expecting the next of the line of Húrin and they'll send someone. You," she pointed to another maid, "Go to the kitchens and ask them to boil some water. Get some fresh towels and bring the water up here. Boromir." She turned to her brother in law, guiding him away from his wife and out the door. The tall man made to protest, but she pushed him out into the hall.
"I'm sorry, Boromir, but I cannot have you in here. Men only get underfoot in women's business, and birthing is as womanly as business can get. Don't worry, Rhoswen is in perfectly capable hands, and your sister should be here soon, along with Queen Arwen." Éowyn gave him a pat on the shoulder and shut the door, leaving Boromir out in the hallway with no company but the candles and his rather confused and unorganized thoughts.
Aerwyn came fifteen minutes later, with Arwen in close pursuit. Aerwyn took one look at her brother, who was sitting with his back to the wall with his head in his hands and resisted the urge to laugh.
"Come...children wait for no one." Arwen gently whispered, sheparding Aerwyn inside, again leaving Boromir in the empty hallway.
A grueling hour later, all Boromir had for comfort that his wife was still on this earth was the very unsettling sound of screams of pain. He paced the hall like a man possessed, his hair sticking out at odd angles from the number of times he'd run his finders through it.
Sitting back down on the floor, he leaned against the wall again, his thoughts running through his head like so many horses run on a plain- unchained and unchecked and rather hard to keep track of.
"I'm the reason she screams, he thought. I gave her this pain. Why me? What possessed me to do it? Why did I hurt her so?"
Another voice answered. "Love possessed you, Steward. But for her pain, she gives you a priceless gift-a child. Doubt not your wisdom in these things- is it not for you question human nature and the normalcy of such things as pass between a man and a woman. Calm yourself." Boromir shook his head, cradling it in his large hands.
"How can I be calm when my wife and child stand next to death?" He moaned aloud. Faramir, passing by with a tray laden with what looked to be breakfast, slid down to sit next to his brother, laying the tray along side.
"Will you not eat something, Boro? You've had little sleep and too much stress. You need your strength."
"I can't eat when I know Rhos suffers and I am at fault."
"She chose to have this child, too. Now, please, eat some thing. Or go get some rest-My room is open should you wish to catch some sleep. And please, brother...do not worry yourself sick-Rhoswen is strong. She will survive." He glanced at his brother, got up, and left, shaking his head. How Boromir reminded him of Father sometimes...
Boromir didn't touch the tray-it remained sitting next to him, as if anticipating hungry hands to sweep down and devour it's contents. Every time a maid opened the heavy door to let herself out, Boromir was given an earful of his heir's birthing pains, but nothing more; none of the maids said anything. They all gave the Steward of Arnor the most condescending of looks, shaking their heads at his trepidation. As the sun climbed higher, the situation didn't change much.
After what seemed like an age, Arwen emerged from Rhoswen's chambers, and after her, Aerwyn, wiping her bloody hands on a cloth. The sun had mounted the sky, nearly to its zenith, and Boromir had failed to notice that Rhoswen's screaming had ceased. Now there was an almost contented air of silence. He got up, now noticing the lack of noise, and looked at his sister for answers.
"How is she? What has happened? How is she?" Aerwyn looked at him, smiling with a secret knowledge of something Boromir had yet to find out.
"Go to her and see yourself." Boromir blanched, but pushed open the doors to his rooms with a strong hand, never hoping for what his eyes found there.
A faint smell of athelas hung in the air, wafting from the bowl at the bedside in which a cloth was seeping. There was Rhoswen, her sable locks drenched in sweat, laid across her pillow in wet ropes, her face going from red back to it's normal color, and in her arms the most glorious of gifts.
Boromir ran down the hall, the doors flying open before him as he barreled through, the last set nearly bouncing off the walls at the force. Aragorn stood as his Steward ran in, breathless but elated beyond anything Aragorn had ever seen before. Boromir smiled broadly and his voice boomed in the council chamber.
"I have twins!"
Don't worry; this isn't the end of the chapter. This is the part of the story where I hold up the sigh from Shrek that says 'Awwwww..." and we all collectively follow what the sign says and say 'Awwwww..."
...Moving on now...
The councilmen all got up to clap Boromir on the back and offer their congratulations to the new father. Aragorn pulled his Steward into a tight embrace.
"No go spend time with your wife and your wonderful children. The rest of the city shall know of the birth of their Steward's heir soon enough." Boromir smiled again, breathless, and then nearly ran back to his rooms to coo over the little pieces of life that he had helped create.
Boromir ran one calloused finger over the brow of one of his children, looking at the child with tender eyes. Rhoswen looked at her husband, smiling. Had she not known that he would be a wonderful father?
"Our children are still in need names, Boromir. I was thinking perhaps we could name the girl after your mother?" Rhoswen looked at her husband expectantly, looking for a reaction as he looked from his new daughter, to his newborn son. Both so small, so delicate...
"Finduilas is to big a name for such a little girl. I will not name either of my wonderful children after any one who has a legacy to live up to. I want each of them to make repute for themselves. Besides, she does not look at all to me like a Finduilas." Boromir looked from each of his children's faces to the doors, upon which someone had just knocked. Aerwyn peeked around the door.
"Your father and sister here to see you and your children, Boromir. May we come in?" Boromir nodded. Aerwyn pushed the door open so Denethor could limp in, his cane carrying the weight his broken leg could not. Aerwyn pulled up a chair next to Boromir, letting her father sink into it.
"So this is our new mother? Ahh, Rhoswen, they are beautiful. Boromir, my son, you have been blessed with a wonderful wife." Denethor looked at his eldest, Boromir's face wreathed in smiles of joy as he gazed at his wife and his two perfect children.
"And because of my wonderful and beautiful wife, two wonderful and beautiful children are also mine. Are they not perfect, Father?" Boromir looked at his son and daughter again, proud, as a new father should be. Denethor looked at his son, always the warrior, cold and unyielding, and now a father, full of love and compassion and warmth for these new lives that his wife held in her arms, and his face broke into a smile.
"May a grandfather ask to hold his grandson for a moment?" Denethor looked at Rhoswen, who nodded, and handed her son to her father-in-law with light hands. Denethor looked into his grandson's eyes, gray like both of his parents', and to the little nose, the little lips, the tiny fingers that curled themselves with amazing strength around one of their grandsire's fingers. Denethor laughed, and carefully peeled the little fingers back, handing the child back to his mother.
"Have you thought of names?"
"Rhoswen wants to name her after Mother, but this one doesn't seem like a Finduilas to me." Boromir looked at his father to see the reaction; Denethor nodded his head in agreement.
"She's not a Finduilas-I agree. I'll leave you two here. Congratulations-to the both of you." Denethor tottered out, with some support from his daughter. A few minutes later, Faramir popped his head around the door.
"I want to see my niece and nephew! Éowyn's been singing about them for the last half an hour, and I need to see for myself. Rhoswen, you and your children are beautiful." Rhoswen chuckled, and kissed her brother-in-law on the cheek.
"I'm sure your children will be just as beautiful, Faramir. If not more so. Here, hold her." Rhoswen handed Faramir the little girl, and with inexperienced hands, the new uncle attempted to get a closer look at his niece. She gazed up at him with wide eyes, and experimentally raised a hand to grab at Faramir's hair. She yanked the lock of sandy blonde, and Faramir winced as several hairs dislodged themselves from his scalp. The baby waved the hairs around, laughing and cooing, her tiny lips breaking into a smile. Faramir could not help but smile too, and handed the child back to her mother.
"May I suggest that when you name that one it be something along the lines of strong and mighty?" Faramir's comment elicited a laugh from all assembled parties.
"I rather like the name Gilraen..." Rhoswen looked at her daughter, thoughtful.
"That's the name of Aragorn's mother." Boromir corrected her.
"What's the name of Aragorn's mother?" The King knocked on the open door, finally having gotten out of his meetings to greet the newest additions to the line of Húrin.
"Boromir refuses to name our daughter or son after anyone who might have a name to live up to." Rhoswen told Aragorn. The king nodded.
"An interesting choice, not without merit. It is the custom of the elves not to give two children the same name. I'll leave you two in peace. Ah- HEM!" Aragorn cleared his throat rather loudly, looking pointedly at the Prince of Ithilien, signaling Faramir that it was time to go. Faramir kissed the foreheads of his niece and nephew, and left Rhoswen and Boromir to the peace and relative quiet of their rooms.
Aerwyn knocked on Faramir's doorframe, looking with despair at her brother's slumped figure.
"What ails you, brother? It is women who suffer after the birth, not the men." She laid a hand on his shoulder and sat down.
"My brother scared me, Aerwyn-I've never seen him so distraught except when you were born. He waited all day with Father, hoping against hope that mother would be able to give us our sister and live to see another one of the sunrises she loved so much...that she wouldn't leave and neither would you. Seeing him sitting there in the hall like that, he reminded me of Father-back when he wasn't always wearing black.
'And then after all the waiting you, little sister came into the world, dear, dear Aerwyn, and a happier pair of brothers you couldn't find anywhere for love or gold. Seeing Rhoswen, and those little bundles of life curled up at her breast...brought back so many memories of happier times." Faramir bit back a sniffle and a tear, and Aerwyn leaned next to her brother, a comforting arm around his shoulders.
"I'm sorry about mother, Fara," Aerwyn said, but the older man brushed it away.
"You remind Father so much of Mama-that's why he loves you and cherishes you as he does. Because he lost a part of himself when she died and he found it again in you. And I was so scared that Boromir would loose Rhoswen and be left without his love or any children to fill that empty space...this family has had too much grief to bear in these past years." Faramir's eyes were wet with tears, and Aerwyn with a corner of her sleeve wiped her older brother's glistening cheeks.
"Rhoswen lives, as do her children-you've seen them, and Boromir cannot hope for two more perfect little lives to foster and care for. Now dry your eyes, brother. I don't want Éowyn to know my brother is a sentimental one." Aerwyn managed to get her brother to crack a smile, and gave him a hug. "I love you, Faramir." She gathered her skirts and left, leaving Faramir to dry his tears and compose himself.
Rhoswen awoke with a small cry, breathless but exhilarated, as if she'd just found the inspiration of the solution to a time tempered problem that had long lain in the dusty vaults of memory.
Boromir wasn't sleeping very well, on account of his self imposed exile to the couch in their rooms, and he awoke rather suddenly from his fitful sleeping with his wife's voice, fearful that some complication of the birth had stayed her breath or that some vengeful soul had caused her harm.
"Rhoswen? What is it? You should be sleeping."
"Boromir, I've thought of our children's names!" Her eyes were filled with exited light, and Boromir could not help but chuckle at her joyfulness at so early an hour. He got up groggily, leaving his blanket on the couch and getting up to sit behind her, cradling her sable head in his lap.
"What did your dreams suggest, then?"
"Aidian, and Eilionnoir. Aren't they beautiful?" Rhoswen said with a sigh
"Foreign, but lovely, all the same." He thought for a moment. "Just as you once were here, my love. Aidian and Eilionnoir it is then." Boromir kissed her cheek, savoring the smell of her skin, faint of roses and the athelas leaves her 'sisters' had bathed her cheeks with as she labored. He went to look at the cradle in the corner of the room, where both children were sleeping soundly without a care in the world. So small, so easily broken, so precious was new life, Boromir thought to himself. He sighed, and went back to his couch, pulling the blanket around his chin and going back to sleep, not mush sounder than before.
More Awwww time now...
Okay, sappy time is over. Shouts outs now!
Dread Lady Freya- The Reverend Mother accepts your apologies and offers her regrets about the lady's recent tribulations, and hopes she finds her fortress keys with all due speed. She also asks that the Lady go back to her traditional state of address, as the Reverend Mother enjoys reading them ever so much more. And I'm truly sorry-Eodoram and I have a system in which she gets him one weekend and I get him the next. Talk to her about it.
Angoliel- I concede; we are on even footing then, comrade? You have might, and I wisdom, and the two go hand in hand.
Terreis-SORRY! It's part of my evil plan to get more people to come back and review! I'm so close I can taste the 100 mark.
Lady of the Dog Star- THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU! You left oodles and oodles of loverly reviews. And don't fret; you're not the first person to have issues with my formatting. It'll be my project for over the summer, to go back and edit so it's easier to read.
Lúthien-glad you liked it. And I'm touched you like my methods...I try to go against the grain.
Roisin Dubh- I fixed and added some stuff due to your comment-Nice job on goading me! big smile And now that you mention it...that may come up in the next few chapters.
Sailor Taichichi Vegeta-Everyone seems to think that calls for some ambassador bashing...it's coming.
Eodoram-Like I said-It's coming. Lots of verbal putting out planned for Ambassador Agrad. chuckles 'I think Éowyn should take the ambassador down...'
Merrymagic26- THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU for the loverly reviews...another new reader who flooded my box with like nine in one day! big hugGlad you're liking it-Know you haven't gotten this far, but anywhay....And if you're still confused, email me. I likes emails, precious, I does.