Chapter Fifty-Three
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SUMMARY: The triplets are in real trouble, and Daeron and the Elvenking rush to Elenaril's side. They will do their best to save them, but will it be enough?
Maybe not.
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[On babies:]
"I love these little people; and it is not a slight thing when they, who are so fresh from God, love us."
― Charles Dickens
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City of Dale, 2nd of September 2943 T.A.
Hannah put Darryn down, and smiled, as he ran over to his crate of toys and began to empty its contents all over the floor.
"I don't know if we need to keep talking like this so much anymore, do you?" Rhian said. "I'm fine, really."
"You are," the woman smiled, "and you've worked hard to get there. Tell you what: if you ever need to 'check in' just let me know, and we'll set aside an hour or two, yeah?" Hannah squeezed her hand.
"You'll be my Mam pretty soon anyway."
"Oh, I don't know…" Hannah looked at Rhian curiously. "Has your Da said anything?"
"Not in so many words, but of course you're going to get married, aren't you? I mean, if he asked, you'd say yes, right?"
"I think I would. My son and his family think the world of Ben and you, too."
"I like Jon and Darla, and the kids love to play with Darryn. We'd make a great little family, wouldn't we?"
Hannah opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a pounding on the front door.
"Who could that be?" Rhian rushed to the front hall to open it, and found Ruvyn looking worried.
"Mistress Hannah, you are needed at Ermon's house immediately!"
"Is it the babies?" Rhian asked in alarm.
"I am afraid so." The Elf answered, just as Hannah rushed past them both and into the street. "Daeron is on his way."
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"ERMON!" Elénaril screamed frantically for her husband, at the sight of the blood. "Natho nín! Ú law! Ú! Natho nín, Hervenn nîn!"
Frantic footsteps thundered up the stairs, and Ermon rushed into the room, followed by Bard and Ruvyn. He rushed to her side, and looked down, and turned white as a ghost.
"Ai, gorgor!" he murmured. "Quickly! Lie flat and put some pillows under her bottom; we need to raise her up."
Bard quickly averted his eyes from the sight of blood, and turned to Ruvyn. "Daeron's at the Castle. Get him here, now, then go find Hannah! Go!"
Elénaril started to cry, and Seren went to her, took her hand, and stroked her forehead. "Your husband's here, lovey, and Daeron's on his way. You're in the best hands, but we need you to relax, and make sure you take nice, deep breaths, to help these babies, yeah? Come on… That's it… Do it with me…"
"What do you see?" Bard asked the Chief Healer, who had placed his hands on his wife's abdomen and was concentrating.
"Part of the placenta has torn away, and there is bleeding,"
"Do not let our babies die!" Elénaril sobbed.
"I need quiet, so I can stop the bleeding, Meleth nîn. Do as Seren tells you, and try to relax."
Ermon closed his eyes, and instinctively, Bard placed his hands atop the Chief Healer's, to lend what help he could.
"No, sweetie," Seren whispered. "Don't hold your breath. Keep breathing. In and out…"
After a few minutes, Ermon opened his eyes and went to Elénaril and stroked her cheek. "I've managed to stop the bleeding, but I cannot re-attach the part of the placenta. Meleth nîn, as soon as Daeron gets here, we are going to have to deliver the babies."
Seren, stood up straight. "I'll go and get some water to boiling and gather some extra towels and blankets. Is there anything else, you need, Ermon?"
"Yes," the Chief Healer said, one hands still on Elénaril's abdomen. "In our bedroom is a brown leather satchel that has my instruments in it. Please bring it here right away, before you gather everything else. I would like you to stay, and you too, Lord Bard, if you would. We will need help to look after the babies when they arrive."
"I'll do what I can," Bard winced, "but I don't do so well with blood, I'm afraid."
There pounding on the front door downstairs, and they heard Seren let someone in, and within seconds, Daeron was in the room, followed by Thranduil and Sigrid , who had been on her way home from school, whe she saw the commotion.
"Belain hanni!" Elénaril gasped. "I am so glad you are here!"
Daeron instantly shoved Ermon's hand aside and closed his eyes. Again, there was utter silence, as they waited for his assessment. Elénaril tried as hard as she could to keep calm, but her heard was pounding and she panted with anxiety. Ai, what if something happened to one of the babies? Or all of them? She couldn't lose them… Tears rolled down her cheeks. She loved them with all her heart, and even though she'd only known of the third child a few days ago, the little elleth had instantly held a permanent place in her heart.
Never had she known love could be like this. If it meant her life, she wanted her babies to be saved, and told her husband so.
"Please; do not say such things, Meleth nîn." Ermon looked stricken. He was doing his best to step back as a father and assume professional distance, but her words had shaken him.
"No! Promise me: if it comes to a choice, you must save our babies." She said quietly.
Daeron opened his eyes, then stepped up and put his face close to Elénaril's. "Ermon was wise to stop the bleeding right away, and two of the babies are doing well, considering, but we must get one of your little ellyth out immediately. I have sent her some extra blood through her cord to keep her going for now, but we must put you under a losta-luith , and deliver all of them surgically. Do you consent to this?"
"Yes! Do whatever you have to! Save my babies, Daeron," she sobbed. "Do not let them die!"
"Ermon?" Daeron looked up at her husband. "Do you have—"
Just then, Seren rushed with Ermon's case and opened it up. Daeron heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank the Valar. If we had to wait until I fetched my own instruments… Now, kiss your wife, and put her to sleep, please." Bard grabbed the bottle of spirits, and pulled off the cork. Sigrid quickly grabbed some clean clouts and the three of them wiped down the instruments.
Ermon went to his wife, bent down and whispered. "I love you very much."
She could see the tears on his face, as he kissed her. "I love you, too. Save our babies?"
"I promise, I will."
Still looking lovingly into her eyes, he stroked her forehead and whispered the sleeping-spell, and everything went black.
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Thranduil turned to Bard. "I do not think you should be here, with your aversion to blood…"
"Oh, don't worry; I'm going. But I'll keep you supplied with hot water and towels."
"That would be good, My Lord," Daeron said, as he washed his hands. Please bring as many bowls and basins as you can find."
"Sure thing. Then I'll be outside, playing the nervous, pacing father for you, Ermon. Good luck, everyone!" And he was gone.
"Here I am!" Hannah burst in. "My lands!" she gasped when she saw Ermon put his wife to sleep. "You have to operate, Daeron?"
"Yes, and quickly. I am glad you are here. You will receive the first infant, and she may need help. Then Seren and Sigrid can receive the others, while I work on Elénaril, yes?"
"Absolutely. Whenever you're ready."
"Ermon," Daeron looked at the Chief Healer carefully. "I need someone to watch over your wife to keep her heart and lungs functioning properly. I also need help delivering the babies, but if you do not think you can—"
"No. I will do it. Lord Thranduil? Could you stay with my wife?"
"Of course." Thranduil leaned over Elénaril and placed his hands on her chest.
"Seren, I need you to wipe all the instruments with the alcohol, and we need a basin of water—
"That's already done."
"Here!" Bard came in with the hot water and soap, which Sigrid took from him.
"Thanks, Da. Keep boiling the water, please, and I'll come get it. You need to get out of here."
"I'll not argue with that, love. Ermon, I'm going to just outside, and will pray for you all. You just leave the nervous pacing to me, yeah? You can do this."
"Thank you, My Lord," the Chief Healer took a deep marshaling breath.
"Are we ready?" Daeron looked around the room. The instruments were cleaned, the Elves' hair had been tied back, all hands had been washed, and Elénaril's abdomen had been cleaned and swiped with alcohol. Hannah stood at the ready with the setup for the first infant, and Ermon was stacking a pile of small cloths to soak up the blood. Sigrid and Seren were making sure the crib, was layered with towels to clean off the babies and the top of one of their dressers had been cleared off and held the basins and the instruments.
"Let us begin and may the Valar bless us."
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Bard wasn't joking when he said he would be pacing nervously outside the room. As much as he wanted to help, he still got sick at the sight and smell of blood. He'd hoped that, after his marriage, that problem would be resolved, but so far, no.
It was just as well, anyway. He didn't handle births well, either, not since his Mattie died suddenly when Tilda was born. Now, here he was, praying that this would not turn into another tragedy…
He went downstairs and boiled some more water, then poured it carefully into a pitchers and set it outside the room, along with every towel and large bowl he could find. Then he paced some more, wrung his hands and prayed.
From the upstairs hall window, he heard a noise, and went to look. A small crowd had gathered, so he went down to the front door and stepped out onto the porch. Most of the crowd had just left the house, but others who had seen the commotion came out of concern. The Elven couple were dear to everyone in Dale, because of their dedication to their health and well-being.
"What's wrong, My Lord?" Catrina asked. "Has something happened?"
"Thanks for your concern, everyone. There's been a bit of a situation, but Elénaril and the babies are in the best possible hands, and as soon as I know anything, I'll come down and let you know."
"I was wondering why Seren didn't follow me out," Llewelyn, her husband said. "We were all having a good time, just an hour ago!"
"I know; but Daeron's in there, and you all know how skilled Ermon is. Lord Thranduil is powerful, too, so they've got a good chance, yeah?" Bard shook his head. "What we can do, is pray with all our might, and ask Ulmo and the Valar to look kindly on them. I'll let you know as soon as things happen."
"Please do," Catrina said, as Rod put his arm around her shoulders. "Those two have looked after us since we got here; many of us wouldn't be alive if it weren't for them!"
"I'll be sure to pass along your good wishes. Now, I'm going to go back and see what's going on, so wait here." Bard shut the door and went back upstairs to take his place outside their door.
And he listened. There were low, worried murmurs, then—
"She's breathing!" came Hannah's excited voice. "Oh, thank the Stars! Come on, little love, make some noise for your Da! That's it… take some nice deep breaths…"
A tiny squeak could be heard. "There we go! Do you hear that, Ermon? Your daughter says 'hello!'"
"She is all right?" came the Chief Healer's voice.
"As far as I can tell. She's getting nice and pink and kicking her little arms and legs. She's tiny, but she's full of spirit, I can tell you! Can you make some more noise for your Da, sweetheart?"
The cries came a bit louder. "Yes, lovey, make lots of noise and get those lungs working!"
"Here is the ellon, Hannah!"
"Just a second, pet. Seren, take this little girl, and keep rubbing her, while I get the boy."
"Got her," Seren's voice sounded delighted. "Listen to you! Aren't you the sweetest little thing!"
"Ooh!" Hannah exclaimed. "You're a big boy, aren't you, son? He's twice the size of his sister, isn't he? Now, come on… Let's get you going… Come on…"
Bard heard another small voice begin to cry, louder, and angrier. "Oh, he's got some good lungs, doesn't he?" Hannah laughed.
"He sounds wonderful," Ermon's voice was husky.
"He does," Daeron said with relief, "now, we need to fetch this last little one and finish up, Ermon. I need you to concentrate."
"Yes, of course; I am sorry."
"Do not be." Bard heard the Guard's soothing voice. "And… here we are! Hannah, can you take her, please?"
"I sure can," the midwife said. "Sigrid, you're up; take this little boy, will you?"
"I've got him," his daughter's calm, soothing voice filled Bard with pride. "Oh, he's so cute! Come on little one; let's get you washed up…"
Bard moved closer to the door, when he didn't hear a third cry, but heard Hannah cooing, then murmuring.
"Hey Daeron?" Hannah's voice was deliberately calm, and too soothing. "How about having a look? This little girl's a bit quiet..."
"What? What is wrong?" Ermon sounded panicked.
"Perhaps nothing," Daeron said firmly. "You must stay with your wife, Mellon, and finish up. I will be back."
"I'll go help him," Hannah said, was the sound of water splashing, as Bard heard her scrub her hands. "Just let me get a basin… Okay, Ermon, tell me what you need…"
"How is my wife, Thranduil?"
"Her heart is steady, and so is her breathing, Ermon. She seems strong."
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The other two babies had finally quieted down, and in the room was a tense silence. Bard leaned his ear against the door and prayed.
Please… Please… Oh, gods…
"Daeron?" Hannah sounded worried.
Nothing.
Bard's stomach clenched, and his eyes closed. No, no, no… He heard the Guardian begin to sing in Quenyan, and Ermon's voice joined him, though he was sobbing.
The door opened, and Bard stepped back quickly, to allow Sigrid out in the hall, holding the newborn Ellon.
Bard peeked down and saw dark hair, pointed ears and grey eyes looking up at him. "He's beautiful. What's happening in there?"
Sigrid's eyes filled. "They can't get the little girl to breathe yet, but they're trying. She's limp and blue, and... Ermon's too upset…"
"All right," Bard pushed past her, and went in, to see Daeron and Ermon working frantically but the Chief Healer clearly could not concentrate, however much he wanted to. The Bowman went to Thranduil, who was still stationed over the sleeping Elénaril. "You go. I'll keep an eye on her."
"But you—"
"I just won't look away from her face and breathe through my mouth. Get over there, love. Go!"
Thranduil kissed Bard's temple and joined the others. He put his hands on Ermon's shoulders, and gently pushed him aside. "Go and see your other children, Mellon nîn. I will see what I can do."
Sigrid came back into the room, and placed the male elfling in Ermon's arms, and Seren gave Ermon his daughter, and led him over to the comfortable chair by the bed. "Now you just concentrate on these two, love, while they help your other little one."
Bard, in the meantime, stroked Elénaril's pale face, and placed his fingers underneath her jaw. Pulse was good – steady at least; he didn't really know how slow or fast a normal Elf's heart should beat, but her color was good.
"Don't look, Bard; I'm just taking care of the afterbirth here."
"Oh, don't worry, Hannah; I won't." Bard took deep breaths, and held his hand up to shield his peripheral vision.
"Sigrid," Hannah called. "Get over here and take this bowl. Ermon? How are you doing?"
Before the Chief Healer could answer, a soft cry was heard from the last little girl, and everyone in the room heaved a sigh of relief, and Ermon started to cry. Bard's eyes spilled over, as well.
"Is she all right?" he asked.
"She is now." Daeron answered, as he continued to rub the baby down vigorously. "Her lungs were not fully developed, but thanks to Lord Thranduil, we have matured them, and she's taking in air, and her heart is getting stronger. She'll need some attention for a bit, but I think she'll live."
Daeron look at Elénaril, then back at the Elvenking. "I need to close and heal her wounds. Would you please keep watching this infant? Keep her heart at this steady pace, and help her breathe, My Lord."
"Of course." The Elvenking placed three fingers over the little chest and sang softly.
Bard smiled as the atmosphere in the bedroom became joyful. Ermon was sitting and holding two of his children and crying with happiness, as Thranduil looked after the third child. Seren helped wash her off, then they wrapped her in several warm blankets and carefully put her in the King's arms, while he kept his hand on her chest and sang. The infant's cries were getting louder and stronger, and when she began to wave her arms around, everyone knew she would be all right. Hannah helped Daeron finish up while Seren and Sigrid quickly gathered the dirty laundry, removed the basins with soiled water, and began scrubbing down the room.
When at last Elénaril's incision had been sung closed, Bard and Thranduil were asked to step out, while Daeron and the women changed her bedding, washed her up, and got her into a clean nightgown.
The sight of the bloodied bedding in Sigrid's arms made Bard's stomach turn.
"Da-a! Don't look!" she scolded, as she passed him in the hall.
"Sorry," he winced, and so he focused on the tiny Elfling in Thranduil's arms.
"She's beautiful…. You were right; Elven babies do have larger ears... Was Legolas this small?"
"No. He was much bigger, but he did not have to share his mother's womb with two others." Thranduil closed his eyes for a moment. "I think she is fine, now." As if to answer, the babe opened her eyes again, blinked up at the Elvenking and began to cry lustily.
"That is a beautiful sound." Bard buried his face in Thranduil's shoulder. "You did great, love. I'm so proud of you."
"You should be proud of yourself, Meleth nîn; I know it was not easy to be in there."
"Believe it or not, it was harder to listen to all that; my imagination was going to places I didn't like."
Sigrid came back upstairs (without the laundry, thank the Stars), and reentered the room, only to come back with the other women.
"Daeron's going to wake up Elénaril and let Ermon show her the babies." Sigrid told them. "We thought they should have some privacy." She hugged Bard, with a smile. "I'm amazed you didn't get sick."
"I think I can turn this little one over to her father. I will be right back." Thranduil stepped into the room.
Bard kissed his daughter's cheek. "Well done, darling."
"What's that noise?" Hannah asked, as she looked toward the upper hall window.
"Oh!" Bard palmed his forehead. "There's a mob outside waiting for news!"
"Is Llew out there?" Seren asked.
"Aye; and about fifty others, last time I looked."
"I'll go down and tell everyone," she offered. "I've got to get home to the kids, anyway."
"Thanks, lovey," Hannah hugged the woman. "We did it!"
"We all did it! Let me know how Elénaril is, would you?"
"Sure thing." The midwife waved her off. A few minutes later, there was the sound of cheering, outside.
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"Elénaril? Meleth nîn?"
She heard the voice coming from far away… Ermon. It was her husband calling her, and she struggled to open her eyes,
"Take your time, Mellon, relax." That was Daeron. "All is well. You are fine, and so are your children. Can you squeeze my hand?"
She did. As hard as she could.
"Very good. You all did wonderfully, and your babies are alive and healthy, and anxious to meet their Naneth. Can you open your eyes, now?"
She blinked and saw light, then Ermon's face. He was smiling with tears on his face.
"Ae, Suilad, Meleth." Ermon sniffed. "We are parents."
"They are well?" She whispered.
"They are. Our daughters gave us a bit of a fright, but they are eager to meet you. Listen," he kissed her cheek, as the soft sounds of crying reached her ears. Instantly she was wide awake, and tried to sit up.
"Here; let us help you." Daeron and her husband quickly had her sitting up, and Ermon sat beside her, and handed her a warm, squirming blanketed bundle. "Meet our son, Meleth nîn."
"Oh, he looks like you!" She cried. The infant regarded his mother with dark blue eyes, then yawned.
"The Ellon was your second-born; here this is the your first," Daeron gave her the child, and set her in the crook of her other elbow.
Elénaril gasped. "She's so small! Is she all right?" She looked up at Daeron with concern.
"She is fine. It was your third child that gave us a hard time," he brought her the third child, who was bigger, and had pale hair and eyes. "Lord Thranduil and I had to give her a bit of help, but rest assured, she is in no danger."
Ermon took their son, so she could check her youngest daughter, who began to cry. "Oh…" instinctively, she rocked and jostled her, to help her calm down. They are all so beautiful!" And burst into tears.
Ermon kissed her hair, then her lips. "I do not think I have ever felt so happy."
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Sigrid and Hannah went to the kitchen to clean up all the basins and get started on the laundry, while the Kings waited in the hall, and listened as Elénaril woke up and met her brand-new babies.
The Kings re-entered to see both parents sitting on the bed, as Ermon held one of the babies, and Elénaril was unwrapping one of the girls, checking her from head to toe.
"She's perfect… They all are." She said tearfully.
"Congratulations, Mellyn nîn," Thranduil smiled.
Her hands cupped around the heads of both girls, and stared at them in wonder, "I was so frightened when I saw the blood, and now…" she sniffed at smiled up at her husband. "We have a family."
"Have you thought about names?" Bard asked.
"Yes. Our firstborn, we have named Calapîa."
"'Little light,'" Thranduil interpreted. "That is very sweet." He smiled down at the auburn-haired child.
"And our other daughter," Ermon pointed to the baby with the lighter hair, "shall be called,'Almarë.'"
"What does that mean?" Bard asked.
"'Blessed fortune,' in Quenya." The Elvenking answered. "A worthy name, and may she always be so. And your son?"
"We cannot seem to decide; we were still debating when… all this happened."
Thranduil held out his arms. "May I?"
Ermon handed over his son, and the Elvenking looked intensely at the infant, who regarded him calmly. Bard peeked over and smiled. "Do Elven babies' eyes change?"
"No. He looks like his Ada." Elénaril answered, with a smile.
But Thranduil didn't answer. He was regarding the tiny elfling, then said, "I do not normally share my foresight with new parents, but for you, I will make an exception. Might I suggest the name 'Nórimo?'" he handed the ellon back to his father. "In Quenya," he explained to Bard, "it means 'strong and swift.' There is a calmness in his fëa… he will be a natural protector and seeker of justice."
Thranduil placed his hand on the baby that had given them all such a scare. She was calmer in her mother's arms, yawning, and smacking her lips. "Little Almarë will be a quiet and shy little elleth, who will not like crowds, but will enjoy being in the safe circle of her family." He smiled. "I see her with a quiet life, and she will love nothing better than tucking up in the library with her nose in a book. Perhaps she will even write a few."
Ermon leaned down and kissed his new daughter's head. "She looks like you," he said to his wife. "Her hair is so light."
Bard watched with a smile, as the tall Elvenking asked to hold little Calapîa, and began to laugh. "Ai!" He laughed. "This one might be tiny in size, but she is mighty in spirit!" he fingered her little ears and let her grip his finger. "She will be a chatterbox, just like our Tilda, I think, and will worry her parents to distraction, with her eagerness to experience new things!" Thranduil smiled at her parents. "Though she will always be small, she will be a fierce ally to her bold brother and quieter sister."
Thranduil handed her back to her parents, just as Hannah and Sigrid came in with a tray of food for the new parents.
"Here's your dinner, you two." Hannah set one of the trays down. "You can just nibble as you want." She peeked into the crib, then to the dresser/changing table. "Looks like you're all set up, so I'll be going." The midwife leaned down and kissed both new parents. "I'm so happy for you."
Bard nudged his husband. "We should go, too. Congratulations on your family."
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Daeron stayed behind, to keep checking on the infants, as the rest left and made their way home.
"Have a good evening, Hannah," Bard waved.
"Same to you, My Lord. Well done, Sigrid!"
"Thank you," the girl said, shyly.
Bard put his arm around his daughter's shoulders. "I'm proud of you, too." He kissed her temple. "Do you have a lot of homework?"
"Yes, but I'll stay up late and get it done."
"No, you won't. I'll write a note to your teacher, explaining what you were doing, although I have a feeling she'll have heard all about it by tomorrow. News like this, always travels fast. You look exhausted, darling, so I want you to get something to eat, a hot bath and get to bed."
"Okay, Da. I am tired, to be honest."
"Are you well, Iellig?" Thranduil gave her a concerned look.
"Oh, aye, but it was frightening and wonderful… I don't know how Hannah and Daeron do it." She looked up at her Ada with clear admiration. "I don't know how you kept calm when the baby was so bad off!"
"It was difficult, Iellig, but I have had years of practice controlling my emotions. Ermon is much older than me, but no one could expect him to keep his composure; those were his own children, and he was operating on his own wife. Even he was stretched beyond his limit."
"Ermon's older than you?"
"Yes. In fact, he helped my mother at my own birth."
Sigrid just stared at him and shook her head.
Bard laughed and kissed her hair. "Don't try, or you'll drive yourself crazy, love. Just accept it for what it is. I'm surprised Galadriel didn't show up today, aren't you?"
"I am not. Daeron told me that she still recovers from banishing the Necromancer. Her efforts with Tilda set her progress back some, though I am grateful."
"Is she all right?"
"She just needs to make sure not to exert herself like that for a long while. Daeron took Celeborn aside after they healed Tilda and urged him to make sure she rested."
"Has the trip here been hard on her?"
"If it has, she will not admit it. She was resting today, for our trip to Erebor tomorrow. I expect to be back on Friday, but if things go well there, we might stay longer."
"And if things don't… you'll be back sooner? It's a big deal that Dáin likes you, but many say she is a witch, and the Dwarves might believe that."
"Dáin knows what she and Daeron did for Tilda, and about Celeborn's help when I was… when we rescued the hostages. They all love our Tithen Pen and will be happy to meet her."
After they had their supper and got the kids to bed, Bard led his Elf into their bedroom, pulled their hips together and gave him a hard kiss that left them both weak in the knees. "I was so proud of you, today."
"And I was amazed at you, Hervenn nîn. You were brave to come in and help." Thranduil nuzzled his neck.
"I think I should reward my Elf for all that work, don't you?" Bard whispered, "I dhû hen and, Meleth nîn…" he grinned rakishly. "Man ídhrog: am egor nu? Anything you want, love; I'm yours."
Thranduil said nothing but grabbed Bard by the back of his head and thrust his tongue into his mouth for another a long, deep kiss. Then to Bard's great delight, the Elf picked the Bowman up, threw him on the bed with a throaty growl, and proceeded to have his way.
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"Oh gods..." Bard panted, as he flopped over onto his back. "You should save new babies more often…. I love it when you come hard like that; you had us both shaking." He held up his hand and laughed. "Look at me; I'm still trembling!"
Thranduil hummed, as he stretched with a deep, sated groan, looking satisfied with himself. "I confess, I wanted you badly after we left Ermon's house. Something about all that new life, made me want to celebrate my own with you."
"Oh, I'd say you managed it," the Bowman snickered. "Actually, I was thinking the same thing."
"Why do you like seeing me with babies so much, Meleth nîn?"
"It's the look on your face when you hold them. You revel in their simple innocence, and I can see how much you need that." Bard rolled on his side and propped his head up. "It's the same when you and Tilda are together. I love to watch all your cares, and worries and bad memories disappear, because when that happens, are just so beautiful, I can hardly breathe."
Thranduil turned to face him and kissed him softly.
Bard smiled, then snickered.
"What is so funny?"
"Oh, I was thinking about Daeron. If today made us so horny, can you imagine how he feels?"
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It was late by the time Daeron left the Ermon's house. Elénaril had fallen back asleep, and one of the assistants from the Healing House had come to stay and watch over the babies, so Ermon could rest as well.
Ermon insisted he share a bit of their supper, so at least his stomach wasn't growling, but he was famished when he got back to his and Turamarth's apartment.
"You look terrible, Gwador," Tur was sitting on the couch, reading, when he came in.
"I do?" then Daeron looked down at his blood-stained clothing. "Ai! I did not notice. I hope the people I passed in the streets were not frightened."
"Trust me: everyone knows what you have been up to today, and no one is judging you. How are they?"
"They are well, thank Varda. It was…" he shook his head. "I have never done anything so difficult in all my years as a Healer…" Finally, all the nerves of the harrowing delivery hit the Guard, and he was about to sink down onto the chair—
"Wait!" Tur yelped. grabbed his arm. "You will get blood all over our furniture!" He led Daeron to the bathing room. "I have been keeping the water hot for a bath, so get those clothes off, and get in!"
Daeron tiredly did as he was told and sighed. "This is wonderful..."
"I don't know if these clothes can be salvaged, Gwador. I'll go bring you some sleeping pants—"
"No!" Daeron sat up straighter. "Please… I need to see Rhian; her father invited me to dinner tonight and I did not show up. I must make amends."
Turamarth looked puzzled. "They know what you have been doing."
"Still…" he gave Tur a pleading look. "I… need to see her."
Turamarth raised his eyebrow and a slow grin swept across his face. "Ah. Thinking about making babies yourself? Or maybe you are thinking about practicing making babies— Naeg!" he howled, as a bar of soap hit him square in the nose. "Ni harn, Pen-'ur! Am man agóreg?"
"Avo vuio." Daeron scowled. "I am not thinking about… that."
"Yes, you are." Tur smirked.
"Ego puitho orch!"
"Here," his cousin handed him back the soap. "Use this to wash out your mouth while I get you change of clothes."
Daeron sighed, and sank down and reveled in the hot, relaxing water for a few moments, then he scrubbed off all the dried blood that had soaked through his clothes. He'd probably be better off just burning them, anyway, but it couldn't be helped. He was in such a rush, he never thought to even ask if Ermon had any leather aprons at his home. Then again, Ermon was too upset to think about it himself, too.
But all that mattered was that it ended well, because he knew the tragedy of losing such a precious little being. He'd seen it on the faces of the mothers, when he'd had to tell them their infants were no longer alive, and felt it in his heart, all those times he'd tried his best to revive a babe, but to no avail. Empty, aching arms is the worst kind of agony.
This, of course, made him think of his little Sellwen, and her mother Miriam. The years had been kind to dull the pain, and he was incredibly blessed to have found Rhian, but still… He thought of her little fëa, how it instantly bonded with his, and the question that had always haunted him, ran through his mind again: What did Eru Ilúvatar do with souls of Men who had been taken before they even had a chance to be born?
The unfairness of it still stung, even after all these years.
"Here you are," Turamarth returned with a change of clothes and set them on the chair.
"Thank you."
"Have you eaten?" his cousin looked at him with some concern.
"Some, but I am still very hungry."
"Finish up and I will get you something." His cousin grinned. You are a hero, you know; everyone was talking about it in the Market. I plan to take advantage and bask in your shadow as long as possible. Maybe I can get free cookies from the baker, or something!"
This made Daeron laugh, and he finished his ablutions with a smile on his face.
He was dressed and combing out his hair in his bedroom when there was a knock on the door of the apartment.
"Coming!" he heard his cousin shout, then opened the door. "Rhian! What a surprise!"
All the air left Daeron's lungs in that moment, and his heart started to pound. He quickly finished braiding his hair and went out to find Rhian holding a basket of food.
"Hello," she said shyly.
"Hello," he breathed, and tried to ignore Turamarth, who kept looking between the two of them and grinning.
"You missed dinner, so I thought I would bring it to you." She held out the basket. "There's some chicken pie and I made…spice cake," she smirked.
"It will be nice to eat it, instead of wearing it." Daeron took the basket and stared into her green eyes. "It is good to see you, Rhian."
"Uh… well, if you two will excuse me, I have already eaten, so I will just…" Turamarth picked up his book, "finish reading this. In my room." He headed down the hall, then called back, "With my door open!"
He rolled his eyes and laughed. "Come, Hind Calen," he took her and the basket into the kitchen, where she had him sit down at the small table and fixed him a plate and made a pot of tea.
"This is nice," she said.
"And this is absolutely delicious!" Daeron tried not to wolf down his food but couldn't help it. "I am very hungry."
"I don't doubt it. Hannah came over to the house and told Da and me all about it." She reached over and took his hand. "She said you were a real hero."
"Hannah deserves a great deal of credit, as does Ermon, and Lord Thranduil. It was a collective effort, and to be honest, those children needed all the help they could get."
"But still, Daeron, she said the little girls almost died!"
The Elf stopped and swallowed. "Yes." He said quietly, then shook his head to rid himself of the memory. "But all is well, and Ermon will make sure his wife and children are healthy. I will check in tomorrow, but at this point, I am not worried."
"I'm so proud of you, love. I really am."
He wiped his mouth with his napkin and pulled his chair back from the table. "Come here," he opened his arms.
She got up and sat down on his lap, and he buried his face in the soft pillows of her breasts and inhaled her scent. She always used a wonderful-smelling verbena.
"I love you," he whispered, as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. "I still cannot believe you are here in my arms, Rhian. You have made me so happy."
He felt her kisses in his hair and on his temple. "I love you, too. And I can't believe you love me, either." She pulled back, took his face in her hands, and kissed his mouth, softly at first, then deeper and harder.
He moaned and opened his mouth, and their tongues explored each other, and one of his arms moved from around his waist to caress her cheek, then her throat, then slowly moved down to cup her full, round—
"Don't mind me," Tur suddenly appeared, making them both jump. "Oh!" Then his cousin quickly shielded his eyes. "I am not looking, I promise…" his hand flailed out to feel along the kitchen counter. "I just wanted to snitch a piece of cake; I can smell it from my room, through my *ahem* open door, and it smells wonderful…"
Rhian burst into laughter and got up and cut Turamarth a piece of cake. "Here, nosy. Now get you gone, so I can spend some time with my intended."
"You heard the lady," Daeron grinned. "Get out of here."
.
If he were honest with himself, he was a bit relieved Tur had shown up just then, and while Rhian was serving up the cake, he closed his eyes and forced his hard, throbbing erection down. He had promised her father, and he would honor his wishes, but it was difficult.
…Ai, he wanted this girl! He wanted to be one with her fëa, and he wanted to taste every inch of her body until they both exploded with pleasure. He wanted to be inside of her, looking down at her face…
The next eight months were going to be agony.
.
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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
Natho nín! Ú law! Ú! Natho nín, Hervenn nîn! – Help me! No, this cannot be! No! Help me, my husband!
Belain hanni! – Thank the Valar!
Mellyn nîn – My friends
I dhû hen and, Meleth nîn… - You're in for a long night, My Love…
Man ídhrog: am egor nu? – What do you want; top or bottom?
Naeg! Ni harn, Pen-'ur! Am man agóreg? – Ouch! That hurts, you idiot! Why did you do that?
Avo vuio – Stop whining
Ego, puitho orch – Go fuck an Orc
.
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