Little One

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to LOTR. I am not making a profit out of this story.

Chapter 2

It took a moment for this statement to process in Drogo's mind. When comprehension finally dawned, he found that a cold weight had set up home in his stomach. He was dimly aware that the hallway had fallen silent and everyone was staring at he and his wife intently.

"But it's too soon!" he said, his voice taking on a much higher pitch than was its wont. "The baby's not due for another five weeks at the least!"

"I know that!"

"Prim, are you absolutely certain the baby's coming?" said Asphodel, her face gone almost as chalk white as her sister's.

"Of course I'm not certain!" snapped Primula, quickly losing patience. "I've never had a baby before, have I!"

"What in the Shire is going on here?" Every head in the hallway suddenly whipped around to the door of the enormous dining room where Menegilda stood, looking all-too daunting with her hands on her hips and a glare that could potentially cause any cow to give nothing but sour milk for the rest of its days. "Are you all going to wait for spring to come or are you going to eat now? Quickly! The food's getting cold!"

"Gilda, we seem to have a bit of a situation here," said Bilbo in a surprisingly calm voice. "It appears that Primula is having a baby now."

Menegilda's eyes instantly honed in on Primula and Drogo, the stony expression they had previously shown melting slightly into a look of thinly veiled worry. She bustled up to the couple, took a good look at Primula then snapped back into action.

"Right then!" she barked, formidable matriarch returning. "The rest of you go and eat. Someone run and fetch Mistress Iris and send her to the Master's Family Quarters. Asphodel, Esmeralda, you two help me here. Amaranth!" Everyone winced as the Mistress of Brandy Hall screeched for her eldest sister-in-law. Amaranth entered the hallway, looking more than slightly annoyed at being called from her meal. "Amaranth, could you send for some hot water and ice to be brought to Prim's old room? Eglantine, you run ahead and get as many towels as you can."

Everyone suddenly bustled into movement. Menegilda started to pry Drogo's arm from around Primula. He protectively and instinctively tightened his hold on his wife. "I'm not going anywhere," he said.

"Very well then," said Menegilda. "You can stay out here in the hallway and we'll go on to your wife's old room." Drogo scowled and opened his mouth to retaliate when Primula interrupted him.

"Go," she said to him, her voice almost pleading. "I'll be fine. I'm in capable hands here. You go and enjoy your lunch."

For a moment, Drogo hesitated. He could see the deep-set fear in his wife's sapphire eyes. She was terrified – and with every right. How could he possibly bring himself to leave her now? But then again, what did he know about childbirth? He would most likely get in the way, he reasoned. Besides, he knew that Primula was in capable hands, and that none of these women would let her or the babe come to any harm if it could be helped. He sighed, and nodded, releasing her from his grip. He could not bring himself to argue against her this time. Drogo watched miserably as Primula was taken off to the large living quarters where the Master's family lived. They were the most spacious and comfortable rooms in the Hall. Primula had grown up in those rooms, and Drogo knew that she and their coming child would be happy enough there. With another dejected sigh, he turned and entered the dining room. He took a seat between Bilbo and Paladin Took, resigning himself to picking at the food on his plate.

"Don't worry," said Paladin kindly. "Primula will be fine. She's in more than capable hands."

"That's right," agreed Saradoc from his place opposite Bilbo. "Iris Clearwater is the best midwife in the Shire. She has delivered babes for longer than you've been alive, Cousin. And my mother surely knows what she's doing too. You have nothing to fear."

"I do not doubt that Prim is being well looked after," said Drogo slowly. "It's just that…" He sighed and frowned down at his plate, his voice matching his strained expression. "I don't pretend to know a lot about this sort of thing – but I do know that for a baby to be born five weeks premature is very early. I'm worried that something is wrong."

"Drogo," said Bilbo sincerely. "I've known Prim for as long as I've known you. And she is as stubborn as any Brandybuck, Took or even a Baggins. She is not going to die today. That goes for your child too. Whether it's a lad or a lass, it has strong Baggins, Brandybuck and even Took blood lines in it – and more besides. You know how stubborn we all are. If it's stubborn enough to demand to meet the world so soon, then it will be stubborn enough to want to stay around for a good while yet."

Drogo heeded his cousin's words and a small smile broke weakly onto his face. "I believe you're quite right, Bilbo," he said. Feeling at least a little better, he slowly devoured his meal.

As Iris Clearwater entered the large bedroom, she spared one moment to take in all that was going on before she took charge.

"Right," she said briskly. "I suggest that someone opens a window, as it is getting rather stuffy in here. We do want Mistress Baggins to breathe, after all." Esmeralda quickly moved to obey. "Plenty of towels out, I see, and enough water to be going by… Gilda would you happen to have any ice handy? Good! Perhaps you could send for some more in an hour or so. Now, Primula, how are we doing?"

Iris moved to the side of the large bed where Primula currently lay. She had been changed into a nightdress and her light brown locks had been loosely tied back from her face. But the few curls that had escaped the ribbon were limp with sweat, and her cheeks were flushed.

"Her water's broken," informed Amaranth. "But the contractions seem to be unusually irregular, though I think they're starting to come more closer together now. But I think we're all in for a very long day at any rate."

"I see," said Iris with a slight frown. She quickly examined Primula, last of all noting the size of her swollen belly. "When exactly are you due, dear?"

"In about five weeks at the least," said Primula. "By the first week of November certainly. Though by what the healer said last time I had a check-up, it could even be six or seven weeks yet."

Iris immediately frowned. Even five weeks premature was dangerously early for a hobbit babe to be born. Such occurrences only happened when there was something wrong with either the child or the mother. Or both…

"Tell me, dear," said Iris, fighting to keep her voice light and conversational, lest she distress the mother any more than she already was. "Have you had any serious illnesses or been in any bad accidents over the past couple of years?"

Primula paused to think, her mind whirling back through the past few years as she struggled to order her chaotic thoughts. "I had a miscarriage almost two years ago," she said in a hollow voice. "And… and a stillbirth two years before that."

"That explains a bit," muttered Iris, half to herself. She looked on Primula with sympathetic eyes. "You poor dear. How dreadful for you to go through all of that already. But don't worry about any of that now. Just you try and relax, my dear, while we take care of you."

It was several hours later when a fretful Drogo paced outside the confined rooms, his eyes darting worriedly to the door with every two steps he took. Night had fully settled in by now, and Brandy Hall was abuzz with excitement over the coming of the babe. Several of Drogo and Primula's friends and family sat around outside the rooms, also waiting out the hours along with the anxious almost-father.

"Drogo, sit down," ordered Rory. "You're going to wear a hole in the floor if you carry on like that."

"I can't sit down," said Drogo as though this was the most obvious claim in all of Middle Earth. "I just can't. Not when I have no idea what's happening in there. It's been hours."

"These things take time," said Asphodel's husband, Rufus, wisely. "Elbereth knows that Milo took his time coming. Besides, I'm sure that someone would let you know if there was a problem."

Drogo sighed heavily, his eyes staring hard at the door, as if by willpower alone he could make it reveal to him what was going on in the rooms it dutifully concealed from view. He and the other menfolk had been left to wait out the hours in the spacious parlour of the Master's living Quarters. The parlour led to a large study, mostly used by Saradoc and Merimac these days, and the study led to several bedrooms which were used by the Master's immediate family. In one of those rooms was Primula – Primula and probably over half of Buckland's female population. Drogo hated the idea that he was not permitted to see his own wife during such a time while just about any woman – whether she was the Thain's mother, the youngest kitchen maid or even Primula's fourth cousin three times removed – gained almost instant entrance.

As though believing that a mere stare was far too good for such a door that was clearly so biased and unjust towards him, Drogo scowled at it, hoping that this added ferocity would aid him in his plight. When the door remained stubbornly shut and silent, Drogo at last capitulated and plonked himself on a seat next to his brother-in-law, Saradas.

"I hope you're right, Rufus," he muttered dejectedly.

Behind the doors, in the room she had kept from the day she was born until the day she had wedded, Primula was in the greatest agony she could ever have imagined. The midwife told her it had been some hours now, but she knew that it had been a year and a day at the very least. It must have been. It was simply inconceivable for her to know such torture over such a period of time as only a few meagre hours.

Yet time continued to tick by, seconds into minutes, and minutes into hours and hours and hours uncounted. When all others bustled about, Asphodel remained by her bed, holding her hand and stroking the curls from her eyes with a cool cloth. A vague sensation of surprise penetrated Primula's mind; surprise that her sister's hand was still attached to the rest of her body. She knew that she had been gripping it senseless in her grasp of steel-clad pain. But dear Delly did not complain. She simply smiled with wan lips and spoke soft little words of nothingness that flitted as a fleeting presence of comfort in Primula's ears. "You did the same for me," she said. "All those years ago when my Milo was born." Primula could not recall the time that her sister spoke of. Yet she spared some of her mind to take a small comfort in the fact that for whatever reason, at least she was not going through this alone. She had the support of her family, and she knew she would be eternally grateful for it. But all the same…

"Why is this taking so long?" she groaned as another contraction stabbed through her body. Wave after wave of pain assaulted her, and she yearned to just lie back and give up. But she knew she could not face the failure such an action would bring. Brandybucks (and Bagginses, for that matter) were famed for being stubborn. They did not give up easily. She knew that she would continue this long suffering until it killed her, rather than give up when there was still some strength left to her. Though, she thought it rather unfortunate and unfair that the former option seemed most likely…

Even as she was pondering this train of thought, Iris regarded her with an unidentifiable look in her eyes, choosing to ignore the question stated seemingly an age ago. She could see that Primula was strong – there was no doubt about that. But it had been nigh on fifteen hours since her water had broken, and naturally, she was rapidly tiring. There just hadn't been enough change. Usually by now the mother-to-be would be coming to the end of the first stage and entering the second stage of the delivery. But Primula didn't seem to be even half way through the first stage. With a small frown creeping onto her features, Iris conducted another quick examination of her charge.

"I don't like this," she muttered. "Gilda," she more loudly. "Cover for me. I need to step out for a couple of minutes. Call out if you need me at once."

Menegilda nodded and assumed Iris's position while the midwife swiftly left the room, leaving the door ajar so she could hear if she was being called. She moved through the large study then through the door that would lead her into the parlour. By this time, most of the men had fallen asleep. Rufus was snoring loudly. Saradoc's eyelids kept drooping shut, only to be hurriedly opened when they went down too far. Bilbo and Rory were yawning hugely. Drogo had resumed his restless pacing.

But as Iris opened the door and walked onto this scene, those who were still awake looked up at her, suddenly alert and now all the more eager for news. Drogo stopped his pacing and gulped, finding that his mouth had suddenly gone dry. One look at Iris's expression told him that something was wrong. His face paled.

"Mr Baggins," said the midwife, her voice crisp and insinuating no nonsense. "If I could have a quick word with you?"

Drogo remained still for some moments before quickly nodding and joining Iris in a corner of the parlour. Paladin and Rufus snorted simultaneously and woke up, looking about themselves dazedly.

"What's wrong?" asked Drogo in a low voice.

"I'm afraid that some complications have arisen," said Iris in an equally soft voice. "Your wife is becoming more and more exhausted. I'm worried that she won't be able to go on and the baby will still not be delivered. Her blood pressure especially isn't good. The baby isn't coping as well as I'd like either."

Drogo's face took on a decidedly grey pallor. It seemed as though he would collapse at any given moment from sheer worry. Iris looked on him with pity. "What are you going to do?" he managed to ask.

"If it proves that Primula can no longer cope," said Iris, choosing her words carefully. "Then I will have to get the baby out of her – and quickly. It can be done; however, due to the manner in which such a procedure must occur, it will mean that only one of them can survive. I can't save both mother and child."

There was a heavy silence that weighed on the room like the thick accumulation of static that heralds the approach of a thunderstorm. Drogo's dark brown eyes, usually so warm and cheerful, were now cold and frighteningly expressionless as he felt his insides numbing terribly. He stared at the midwife, though Iris was not certain that he truly saw her. The very air in the room was utterly still, and it was as though Death had already come to claim his prize for the eve. Through the numbness, Drogo felt a cold weight settle in the deepest pit of his stomach. He swallowed once more, forcing his tongue to co-operate with his mind.

"What exactly are you saying?" he said at last, his words coming out so slowly as if it would ascertain his gain of understanding.

"I'm saying," said Iris, also speaking slowly and carefully. "That it is becoming increasingly more likely that either your wife or your child is going to die tonight. If it should come to this, then I'm afraid you will have to choose which life is to be saved. Drogo – you have one hour to decide. After that… I fear there might be no choice to make at all."

TBC

Cheese Processor – I'm glad you're enjoying the story so much. I hope the long wait didn't put you off. ;)

Eregriel Gloswen – Not to fear! You will soon be finding out where all this is leading, if you haven't already, that is. Sorry about the wait in updating btw!

Iorhael – I hope this is still interesting enough for you. And don't worry – there's definitely more coming…

Kaewi - blushes Thank you for the lovely compliment! I'm glad you're liking the story. I really enjoyed and am still enjoying writing the various relationships between these particular hobbits. I completely agree with you that Drogo seems very much like a 'peacemaking' sort of hobbit, yet will still speak his mind.

Nimrodel of Meneltarma – Sorry for not updating sooner! But I'm devoting more of my fanfic writing time to 'Every Man for Himself'. Not that I've actually had much writing time – school is intent on dictating my entire life. But there you go. I'll try and update ASAP though.