Slowly and softly, the queen caressed her round belly. In bigger, then smaller circles. The babe in it, now only mere weeks from coming into the world, didn't seem to be inclined to let its mother rest. No matter how Arwen turned in her bed, no sleep came to her. Restless, Gondors queen sat on the long table in Meduselds hall, and the warm light of sunrise was shining onto her face. A book, long forgotten, lay in front of her. Once the babe was born, she surely wouldn't have much time to indulge on reading. Everything would change. For the better, of course. But still different. But she could still not concentrate on the story on the page. Kicks had started to make it impossible for her to continue. So she was merely breathing calmly when a similarly restless soul entered the hall.

"Lady Arwen? Is anything amiss with you or your child? Should I get you midwife?", the young queen of Rohan asked, concerned. She too was clad in a white nightgown, which did nothing to hide her large abdomen. Her left hand laid on her belly while the other pushed her long braid of dark hair behind her back.

Arwen smiled at the sight: "I thank you for your worries, Lady Lothiriel, but they are unnecessary, as everything is well. My child simply wouldn't let me sleep." Even though her voice was as calm as ever, it was noticeable, that the mother-to-be, was exhausted. She craved for a night of rest, but shortly before the expected delivery, she deemed it impossible.

The young woman from Dol Amroth smiled at her trusted friend: "I feel everything you just said, for I can also not find sleep. The thought of the upcoming delivery frightens me too much for it." Lothiriel sat down beside the other queen and closed her eyes.

"Let us talk about it, as we are in exactly the same situation. Every woman who wanted to share her experience in childbearing with me hadn't been doing so in many years. I am sure their suggestions come from a good place, but they are not helpful, for they have forgotten the fear of the unknown. It is a first for both of us. Isn't it to be expected of us to have fear in our hearts?" Lothiriel opened her blue eyes and looked upon Gondors Queen. A reassuring smile graced the elven face.
"Never have I heard words spoken more truthfully. I am aware that it is a gift … no, the greatest gift of all, to carry a child and give my husband a beloved heir, but it still scares my heart. But it feels lighter already to have you share my sentiment." The women smiled at each other, for they had found a true confidant in the other queen. "How long are you expected to have left, Lady Arwen?"

"Two weeks, if the midwife is correct. How about you?"

"Three, but who knows when the babe arrives." It was apparent that Lothirial was in deep thoughts of her own. Arwen waited for her friend to collect her thoughts before she raised her voice once more.

"Have your gondorian advisers harassed you also for possible marriage candidates for your child? It is not yet in this world, and Eomer and I are already expected to sign contracts. Nobody could even know if it will be a boy or a girl, how can they expect this of us."

Arwen knew immediately that the topic was a sensitive one for Rohan's queen and thought about her answer: "Yes, my friend, we have also been advised to think about the matter. But we want to take time to make the best decision for the child."

Lothiriel nodded, lost in thought before sitting up straight on her wooden chair. She turned to the elf and suddenly seemed more confident and calm than before: "I have a proposal if you wish to hear it."

When Arwen didn't contradict, she continued: "Let us arrange a marriage between our offspring. Let them marry if one of us delivers a girl and the other a boy. It would calm my heart immensely if a daughter of mine would be married to a son of Aragorn and Arwen of Gondor, for he would be a great and kind man. If I have to send my daughter away, I could think of no better place and no better family to take her in."

Arwen looked at the other queen. Even though she was surprised by the suggestion, the thought did something to her. A gentle smile slowly spread on her face.

"Dear Lothiriel, it makes me happy to hear your confidence in me and my dear husband. You are right. I would also be comforted if my daughter would marry your son in the future. Let us take it one step further: If the Valar are so kind, and we both can give our husbands their needed heirs and additional princesses, let us give the other kingdom their future queens. Let the world see how far Rohan and Gondor have come in their friendship."

Lothiriel nodded with tears in her eyes: "I would like that very much, my friend."

oOo

"Your Grace, you have to press now, the time has come.", the kind midwife explained calmly, while her assistant wiped the sweat of their queen's forehead. Lothiriel laid in her marriage bed, many blankets surrounding her. The long dark hair spread on the pillows and stuck to her neck. She did not know if she could bear the pain any longer, for she had been in labour for two days.

"Please, your Grace, I can already see the babe's head and blond hair. You have to press. Once more. Any moment, you will have your child in your arms."

With this Lothiriel found strength she didn't know she possessed. She pressed with everything that was left in her and screamed through her pain. The sound only stopped in her throat when another scream reached her ears. The tears flooded her eyes, and she couldn't hold them in.

The midwife wiped the face of the screaming child with a towel before she laid it on its mother's chest.

"Your Grace, you have borne a beautiful, strong boy. And if his lungs are an indicator, our heir will be a great warrior. The king will be most pleased." The old midwife smiled and wiped her grey hair away from her face.

Lothiriel thanked her for her assistance and asked for her husband while she kissed her son's head.

Her husband, King Eomer, sat with his advisors and King Aragorn and his queen in the great hall. Queen Arwen stood in front of the warm fireplace and rocked her newborn son to sleep. Eomer's fingers drummed on the wooden table.

"I don't think I have been this nervous in … I don't think I have ever been this nervous, if I talk honestly."

Aragorn grinned at his friends' nerves, for he had been in his shoes just ten days prior: "I know what you mean, but sadly you can help Lothiriel no more than I was able to help Arwen. We men are drastically unuseful in this domain, I am afraid."

Eomer opened his mouth to respond when one of his advisors talked in hushed voices with a maid. Suddenly everyone stood up and looked at the man

"Your Grace, I was just informed that her Grace, Queen Lothiriel has borne a healthy son. The queen wishes for your presence in your rooms to show him to you."

The hall got loud as Rohan's people rejoiced in the birth of their new prince and heir.

Eomer radiated his happiness and pushed the chair hastily away from him. But before he could run to his beloved wife, he stopped and turned to the second king in the hall: "Aragorn, my friend, I am afraid that our duty to each other is yet to be fulfilled. It seems as if we excel in producing future kings, but queens are still not in sight."

Aragorn laughed: "I'm quite confident that we both know how to remedy this. I can speak only for myself when I say that I am nothing but thrilled for this exercise in producing a queen for Rohan."

Eomer chuckled and patted his friend on the shoulder before he left to be reunited with his wife.

oOo

Six years later, Aragorn was as tense, for his wife was in labour for the third time, as the first time. Eldarion's birth was good on Arwen, but their second born son Alvamir had been a fight for the elven queen. Due to this, the King couldn't wait for it to be over. The contractions started yesterday, and he still had gotten no news of his third child.

Eldarion and Alvamir were playing with their wooden soldiers in his study when the midwife alerted him of the successful birth.

With a lightened heart, Aragorn stormed into his wife's bedchamber. She looked as beautiful as ever, even though she was clearly spent.

"Tell me, my dear, what gift have you birthed for me?" Aragorn asked and sat next to his wife. The babe was wrapped in soft linen so he could only see its lovely face and a tuft of dark hair.

Arwen smiled happily: "It is a healthy princess, my love."

Aragorn laughed, pleased, and kissed his wife's face over and over.

"A princess at last. Eldarion and Alvamir will be excited for their little sister Elanor."

Arwen grinned at her husband and laid her head affectionately on his shoulder while he looked into his newborn daughter's grey eyes. "I know someone else who will be most pleased. Let us send a letter to our friends in Edoras. For they will also celebrate the birth of our princess, my love."