108. A Pledge of Friendship
As I felt my eyes close and cold darkness was pressing in on me, I wanted to whisper something like "I just want to doze a little bit," to reassure Éomer. For surely everything was alright now, with the baby born. But my lips would not move and I felt weighed down, immobilized by the darkness, heavy and cold and helpless.
After a while, the heaviness began to drain out of me, being replaced by a feeling of lightness, as if I was made of liquid, I was light as a feather, and if a wind came, it would pick me up and carry me away into the darkness…
I noticed that I was slowly drifting back to consciousness, almost as if I had done nothing but dozing, although a small, sane corner of my mind knew that it was not so. Long days of labour and loss of blood… I was so exhausted. Maybe I would die after all, but I was too tired to care.
Before I reached consciousness, before I could open my eyes to the world again, I was assailed by sounds and smells.
The thick, bitter-sweet fragrance of blood, the acrid-salty taste of fearful sweat mingled with the musky scent I recognized as Éomer. And… something new… something softer and sweeter than I had ever smelled before. The scent made my breasts tingle and hurt.
"Will she be alright now? Why doesn't she wake?" Panic in Éomer's voice instead of happiness at the birth of his son.
"She is very exhausted, my lord. And she lost a lot of blood," Míriel, sounding almost sorrowful.
"The afterbirth came out completely," Elaine's words held deep weariness. "But there was too much blood."
"My lord Legolas, would you keep needing her womb? If you massage this balm into her skin, it will help the muscles to tighten. I think she will wake soon… I'm only glad that I could get the stitches in before she regains consciousness."
"Of course, my lady."
Elvish hands massaging my newly flaccid stomach. Gentle, but strong.
"Is there nothing we can do?" Tears. I could hear tears in that question. Now I really wanted to wake, but my eyes were still so heavy… try as I might, I could not open them. Instead I felt as if I was sinking back down into this ocean of heavy, cold darkness. I shivered. I wanted to wake, for that sweet, soft smell…
"Yes, there is something we can do, my lord. First we will make your wife as comfortable as possible. Then we will see if she can nurse the baby."
"But if she is so tired?" Éomer asked, his voice worried, tired and a little bit angry.
Gentle hands lathered the aching flesh between my legs. Then I felt pads pressed into place firmly and tied around my hips. Quick, expert touches.
From somewhere the melody of a flute drifted into my darkness, and the lilting notes seemed to glow in the darkness like fireflies. I tried to follow them, and felt the darkness slipping away.
Suddenly I was awake.
I opened my eyes to a room that appeared strangely clear in front of me. Almost as if I was watching a movie…
Exhaustion and blood loss, I mused.
Éomer was still holding me, sitting behind me, his hands warm and reassuring on my shoulders. I was dressed in a clean shift and a thick new blankets were spread over me. Between my legs I felt a bulk of padding. But I also felt that there was still a steady trickling of blood, a gentle, seemingly unstoppable flow from somewhere deep inside. Thinking about that made me feel light-headed to the point of delirium.
I wanted to reach for Éomer's hand, but found that I was too weak to move my hand.
"She's awake! She opened her eyes!" Éomer bent down over me, placing a kiss on my lips.
His beard was spiky and hard, clotted with tears and sweat. I gasped.
"Now we will try if she can nurse the baby." Suddenly Elaine was back in my field of vision. She had slipped on a new apron and washed her hands, but on her forehead was a large, black smudge of flaky, dried blood.
I wanted to ask where the baby was and indicate that I did want to try and nurse it. My breasts were so heavy on my chest, the only part of my body that I still seemed able to feel, except the touch of Éomer's lips and his beard so bristly against my face.
"But she cannot move!" Éomer sounded almost belligerent. "Shouldn't you allow her to sleep?"
"No, my lord. Suckling the babe may constrict the muscles of her womb and that way the bleeding may be stopped." Elaine sat down on the bed, taking my hand and looking at me attentively until she was sure that she had my attention. My hand felt so far away from me as if it was not my hand at all.
"It is not yet over, Lothíriel. You are still bleeding. If the bleeding does not stop, you will not survive the night."
Oh.
I felt my lips prickle, with a mild shock of surprise. Exhaustion must have muddled my mind.
It sounded reasonable.
I tried to swallow and lick my lips. I wanted to hold my baby again.
My voice seemed to come from far away and was hoarse as if I had been screaming for a long time. I frowned. I probably had been screaming for a long time.
"I'd like… the baby."
Elaine smiled. "We have to try and see if the wean will nurse. He's a bit tired, too, the little prince. But it's important to try. Suckling the babe may stop the bleeding."
"Okay," I whispered, relaxing into Éomer's embrace, grateful for his warm hands on my shoulders, even though I could feel his tension, feel how he tried to keep from shaking.
"But…" I coughed. The spasm made my midsection almost explode with pain. Tears gathered in my eyes, even as Elaine pressed firmly down on my stomach, stilling the agitated muscles. Elaine seemed to know what I had been about to say. "Éomer will help you to hold the babe."
Then she turned her head. "Míriel? Are you ready?"
"Yes," Míri's voice was… strange… almost strangled with emotion… almost overflowing with love. "Here he is."
Suddenly she was standing next to Elaine. I must have drifted off to sleep for a few seconds. I had not seen her move at all. My eyelids seemed to be aching with weariness. And there was no way I could move at all
If anything, I would have wanted Éomer to let me lie down on my back…
Míriel held something in her arms. A bundle wrapped in white linen and a red and green blanket, embroidered in gold. That soft sweet scent reached my nose again, and again tears burned in my eyes.
That bundle was my son!
Suddenly the bundle was moving and the tiniest pink fist waved in the air. A gurgling noise made me tense up. I wanted to hold out my arms, I wanted to ask to hold him, but my arms seemed to be made of rubber, it was impossible to find words…
"Now, we'll see if this little prince of Rohan is hungry," Elaine smiled. She leaned forwards and pulled the blanket down my breast. My nightshift was tied at the neck with a thick red cord. She loosened the bow and pulled down the fabric, exposing my breasts.
They were swollen to the size of gourds and dark, almost red. The nipples were the size of cherries. They tingled at the touch of the cool air.
Elaine bent over me and moved my left arm across my body.
"Now, my lord, lean forwards. Support your wife's arm and be ready to hold your son safely."
I felt Éomer swallow hard. I would have laughed, but I was too weary.
He briefly squeezed my hand. This small gesture made me once again aware of his bodily strength. He would hold me and our son and none of us would fall.
"Míriel? The babe."
Míriel moved forwards, holding the babe expertly, supporting the tiny, round head with its fluff of dark golden hair. He was still a bit red and wrinkly, I noticed, but he did look like a real baby. And then he opened his eyes. And they were Éomer's eyes, dark and beautiful – and completely unfocused. I felt a smile spread across my face, even as my nipples began to actually hurt with a pressure building up inside me as if I was about to burst.
Míriel placed the baby on Éomer's and my arm, while Elaine positioned my right arm and hand in a gesture to gently cup that small round head, again wrapping Éomer's larger hand around mine, so that he was holding my arms and hands to help me holding our son.
I found I could smile and cry at the same time.
His cheeks were like tiny peaches, and his nose was so tiny and delicate, and his ears so crumpled and red.
Suddenly he moved, and his cheek collided with my nipple.
At the touch, something in my body welled up, almost like the tide rising up in the sea, a powerful flowing that cannot be contained. I stared in wonder how my nipple tightened up and suddenly a trickle of white appeared at its tip.
Wow, I thought. That's really working.
I could smell it, too. It did not smell like milk, it was a sweeter smell, pungent, and not really a good smell, I mused. Our son, however, was of a different opinion. The moment the white liquid started flowing, he screwed up his face, moving his tiny nose almost like a dog intent on his prey, and turned his head with astounding force.
Elaine smiled and adjusted the baby's position, so that he could reach the nipple.
And that's just what he did.
He latched on with a powerful bite for such a tiny creature. The grip of his mouth on the overly sensitive skin of the nipple was almost painful. Then it felt as if a stopper had been pulled. I felt as if my very essence was spilling forth, flowing, flooding…
It was a feeling of release that was so powerful that I almost lost consciousness again. I felt as if I floated away from my body, tied to the earth only by that one almost painful touch on my breast.
"Wonderful, he's hungry!" Míriel.
"Yes, indeed, he is!" A smile was clearly audible in Elaine's voice.
"Now, let's turn him so she will be able to sleep for a few hours. I think this might just do the trick."
Éomer exhaled heavily behind me and I was back in my body, staring in wonder at the small rosebud mouth with trickle of milk running down to his chin. Míriel and Elaine worked together to put the baby to the other breast, helping Éomer again to hold me.
This time our son did not even wait for the first trickle of milk, he aimed, took hold – and drank.
This time I was prepared for the sweet flowing release as the tight pressure inside my breast was released. I felt Éomer's arm under mine. I felt the silky, damp curls of the baby's under my hand, Éomer's hand cupping my hand in turn, Éomer's warm strength at my back. Scents mingled around me, Éomer's spicy male scent, with now just an aftertaste of fear, the pungent smell of milk, and the happy soft fragrance of baby – and only very faint, the fragrance of blood.
"I'm so happy," I whispered. And although my voice remained thin and hoarse, the words came out alright. I felt Éomer's embrace tighten around us. "I am happy, too," he replied, his voice a blanket of love warming our small family.
Somewhere out of sight, the flute kept playing.
oooOooo
Finally the movements of the baby's mouth against my breast slowed down. His eyes were closed now, screwed shut almost after this enormous effort of nursing. His lashes were amazingly long and almost black, strange compared to the golden fluff on his head…
I felt my eyelids get heavier, too.
When he released my nipple, my body felt warm and heavy. I would not move even the world was coming to an end. I was slipping off to sleep, as the sound of Elaine's voice caught my attention again.
"Will you accept your son now, my lord?"
"I would like the queen to be awake for the ceremony," Éomer's voice was a deep, soft rumble against my spine.
"But my lord, 'tis ill luck to wait, and people will wonder…" Anrid's voice was flustered. I had forgotten that she was in the room.
Quiet, almost gentle, Elaine added. "My lord, though I do believe that your wife will wake and eventually will recover her strength… may the Valar and Eru keep her safe, I would not call it wise to wait. 'tis a noble thought, a credit to the love you share. But you have to think of your son now and your realm, too. He has to be accepted and named as heir tonight."
I felt Éomer shift uncomfortably behind me. I groaned at the movement. I was beyond tired. It was a miracle that I even remembered my name…
Name…
I would like to know our son's name before I fell asleep for good.
"My lord, you will have to get up anyway. Lothíriel should sleep now, and she won't sleep comfortably now, no matter how loving your embrace."
Éomer's assent was rather a growl.
I woke completely, when Míriel and Elaine held my arms to allow Éomer to move away from behind me. Careful as they were, I hurt all over when they helped me lie down in the pillows.
The pain also woke me once more.
I felt as if weeks had passed. Weeks of darkness and pain, interspersed with the most wonderful music and all-encompassing happiness. Very weird. Could you get delirious from child-birth?
Éomer sat down at my side and reached for my hands. I was still too weak to really return his pressure, but I did enjoy that loving touch.
He kissed my hands. "I am sorry I woke you again, léofest. They insist that I accept and name our son now. And they are right – this is law and custom among our people. And only that way our son will be considered the legitimate heir of the kingdom."
I would have nodded if I was not so terribly weary and weak. "What…" How could it be so difficult to voice such a simple question? I tried again, and felt my temples pound with the effort. "What will you name him?"
Éomer turned his head. I followed his gaze and realized that Legolas was there, standing still and hesitant at the foot of the bed. The elf looked unusually pale and quite dishevelled, there was a streak of dark liquid smeared across his tunic that had to be my blood.
What a bloody mess giving birth was, I mused. Then it had not been a dream after all, that Legolas was here. He must have helped somehow.
Éomer's next words proved that. Gratitude was palpable in Éomer's voice. I had never heard someone sound that grateful, in fact.
"I would like to name our son for the people he owes his life and his mother's life to."
There was a hint of stubbornness to the way he added "his mother's life".
I would have sighed and reassured him that I'd be alright. But I was so tired. And I was not at all sure that I would be alright. I was only too weary to care. But the memory of the warm bundle pressed against me, the rushing ecstasy at feeding our son made me feel almost hopeful.
Éomer turned back to me. "Legolas is the one who managed to turn the babe, when hope for your lives was almost lost."
I felt my mouth grow round in an inaudible "oh".
My eyes searched Legolas' brilliant gaze. There were tears in the elf's eyes and a wavering smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"Oh," I managed to breathe. How could we ever thank Legolas for that?
Éomer answered this question that I was too weary to ask. "Therefore I will call our son Elfwine, elf-friend, and the line of my blood will be true in their friendship to the Firstborn forevermore. This I swear, aver and affirm by the life of my wife and my firstborn son."
"To this we bear witness," many voices echoed all around the room. Wow, a real gathering… and I had barely noticed.
"I will now pick our son up from the floor where Lady Míriel has laid him down, and with my blood I will give him his name and accept him as my son and heir." He kissed my hands again, then gently placed them on the blanket.
I would have wanted to say something like "Good, good," and grinned my happiness at him, but I think the best I managed was a vague smile.
Somehow, the world around me was acquiring a dreamlike veil once more, as exhaustion was about to suck me away into the darkness of slumber or faint once more. I gritted my teeth. I wanted to witness the acceptance and naming of my son.
Elfwine, I thought, little Elfchen… And found that I perhaps was still able to grin.
Then Éomer moved away to the centre of the room, standing near Legolas who had turned away from the bed, looking down at the floor, where our son must be lying now, invisible to me.
I did not see how Éomer bent down and picked Elfwine up. I did not see how Éomer cut his hand to daub his blood on the forehead of his son. I did not see how Elfwine screwed up his small, red, wrinkled face and sneezed, but I heard that he did not cry – and felt inordinately proud at that.
And I did hear Éomer's voice, filled with so much love that it was almost painful, that I felt I could burst with the answering of love I felt inside me.
"I, Éomer Éomund's son, accept thee as my firstborn son and heir of my kingdom. I name thee Elfwine Éomer's son. Thy name be a pledge of friendship between my line and the Eldar forevermore."
"To that we bear witness," the choir of soft voices echoed once more around the room, and echoed on in my mind, but the echoes grew faint quickly, until a warm, quiet blanket of darkness covered me and I fell asleep.
oooOooo
A/N: I would like to thank Aranel Took for the quick and thorough proofreading of this chapter. Huggles! You are the best of friends!
oooOooo
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