To Live Again: Waiting Between Worlds {Lord of the Rings Fanfiction}

25. Gift

The summer air is hot, sticky, but not at all uninviting. The forest is always clammy and humid in the summer months, and it is an excuse for me to walk barefoot everywhere, wearing the lightest and prettiest dresses I can find. It also means I can make a great many excuses to escape into the outdoors, and march my family with me, because they need to be kissed by the sun.

I smile - a slow, wide, perfect, smile as I watch them in the long grass by the banks of the sparkling stream.

All three of them...my wonderful children...their voices so full of joyful contentment.

My keen eyes remained zeroed in on the tottering elfling, who is bemused by the feeling of bare-feet in dry soil. His small hand wrapped tightly around three of his elder brother's fingers, as he inspects the growing things beneath his toes. His eyes, so familiar, blink forwards in wonderment to his elder sister, as she lies sprawled on the grass beckoning he come to her with wide grins of endearment. He plods steadily, carefully, and assuredly towards Celairiel, towing Legolas behind him. His mannerisms quiet but confident, entirely unlike the wildness of his elder sister and father, his heart preferring a peaceful and steady thrum to life. I love him, and I adore his strong and beautiful spirit, it is healing, it was just how I knew he would be.

Ferion Thranduilion, was born on our Day of Remembrance almost a year ago, and I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember the shock, the panic, the comedy, and unfortunately the fear...but there was so much love.

Yes, I remember everything...

*Feast of Remembrance, Woodland Realm - TA 53*

"GET OUT OF MY WAY!"

The tall oak doors of the healing halls crash open with the force of Galion's strength. The healers who had been causally attending their duties are all literally bulldozed as he runs manically down the centre of the room, his feet barely touching the high-polished marble floors. Shrieks of panic, and gasps of fright vibrate from every corner of the room, and I groan in embarrassment as I hobble in behind him, barely kept upright by my extremely patient best friend...honestly she a saint!

"Ollie, get him a sedative," I whine into her neck, but my whine turns into a rather undignified moan. I grab hold of her wrist and twist further into her chest, desperately muffling my voice.

"Holy Elbereth, Clara! My wrist!" Ollie hisses and wrestles with my grip. "You are going to break my arm off!"

"Oooowww, shut up...just let me break your arm!" I growl and hang from her neck as the contraction fades and I can breathe normally again. Oh good grief they are getting closer...at this rate this baby is going to be born on the stone floor, in full view of everyone, and frankly I do not give a damn!

"Lady Oliel, they are getting closer," I hear Rista whisper in panicked tones as she drapes a robe over my shoulders. I probably flung it off me half way here, whilst in the midst of one of those said contractions...why now, any other time but now?

"Yes, Rista, they are getting closer, no need to point out the obvious," I snap as I grip onto her shoulders to steady myself and face the main hall again, only to find everyone staring in shock. My temper flares at their vacant expressions, and so I wave my hand expressively at the nearest healer; "Don't just stand there...Get. Me. A. Bed!"

The healer drops the bundle of sheets they are holding and disappears into the halls, whilst another brings me a chair from somewhere. Between Ollie and Rista I am, rather unceremoniously, plonked in the chair. I huff and puff, grumbling and whining incessantly as I rub my belly and whimper out my pleadings for my baby to just wait a little bit longer, but as I begin I feel another twinge start and I cringe;