Chapter 10

That evening Faroniel was not pleased to hear the tale of Belegon and the smith’s warning, but she had to agree with the wisdom of it. She also told him that the midwife had come to visit and now at six months, she agreed that Faroniel likely carried twins.

After dinner, Laurehér and his wife lay curled up in bed, staring at the fire.

“You will need to make a second cradle, soon,” Faroniel said, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder. “We only have the one that I used before.”

“Angadan and his wife said they will loan us the one their children used. It is still in good condition,” Laurehér commented.

She smiled. “Good. We have enough blankets. I have the clothes that Tathariel’s children wore which are still usable. She and I shared children’s clothing back and forth before...”

He tightened his arms around her and rested his chin on her hair. “It is all right, my love. Your arms will soon be full again.”

“I know.” She shifted until she was looking into his eyes. “And holding and loving these two new ones will be all the sweeter for my memories of the ones I lost.”

Her joy amidst the sadness which still shimmered in her eyes touched his heart. Tenderly he kissed her, his fëa reaching out to the children nestled within her. The feeling of their presence seemed so right to him and of such enormous comfort - as if a deep void within him had once again been filled - that again he wondered if he had indeed sired and lost children. The implications of what that meant his further losses in life must have been as well nearly overwhelmed him, and he closed his eyes even tighter, deepening the kisses so he would not have to think about what could have been, what might have been, and perhaps what very likely was.

Her hands slid up to his face and then down to tempt him to something else. Grateful for the distraction from his thoughts, he accepted her invitation, losing himself for the rest of the evening in the promise and the comfort of her.

XXXXX

As Faroniel’s time grew near, her sister came to stay with her during the day while Laurehér checked the traps or worked at the forge. He found that he was so weary by the end of the day that he had to rely on Tathariel’s children to do his chores for him while he was away. Each night he slept deeply and dreamlessly. Each day he struggled through the tasks he needed to accomplish. Never could he remember being so weary of body and spirit. Desperately he hoped that once the children were born he would not be so exhausted. He would need to be strong for her for her weariness would be great with caring for two babies.

Fortunately, Angadan noticed Laurehér’s flagging strength.

“Elves always seemed so strong and well-nigh indestructible to me. Is it always so with them that pregnancy drains the ellon as much as it taxes his wife?” Angadan had asked one day when Laurehér was struggling to get through the piece he was making.

“I honestly do not know,” came Laurehér’s winded reply as he took yet another break and drank a cup of water.

“If that were so, then it would do much to explain why Elves have so few children. And it would explain why you space them out so much with whole lifetimes of Men passing between the births of your children,” Angadan added knowingly.

“Yes,” Laurehér fervently agreed. “There is a great deal of wisdom in what you have just said. I cannot believe how weary I am, and all I have done is make horseshoes today!” He put his head down on the table before him and immediately felt his consciousness slipping. Whatever Angadan said in response was lost to him as he slipped onto the Path of Dreams.

Someone gently shook his shoulder, jostling him awake. Sitting up, he stretched, yawning magnificently. Looking around, it took a few moments for his foggy mind to register the fact that he was no longer sitting at the forge. Flowers hung in great bowers, filling the air with heady perfume. The music of rushing water mingled with the hushed tones of wind flowing most deliberately through trees, making certain to brush every leaf on every branch.

Turning to face the table once again, he realized it was made of carved marble with green veins like vines running throughout. A glass of fragrant red wine rested within easy reach along with platters of fruits, cheeses, and meats. How long had it been since he had last seen a spread of food like this? How many years?

“Eat, Arafinwë, for you are famished and need to renew your strength.”

Arafinwë looked about for the owner of the deep, melodious, female voice, but saw no one.

“Thank you,” he called most graciously to the air and tucked in. He could not remember ever having eaten fruit so vibrant in flavor or meats so succulent or cheeses so simply delicious. When he had devoured his fill, he sat back, savoring a second glass of the wine.

“How do you feel, Child?” the voice asked again.

He startled and scrambled to his feet as an elleth appeared in a chair across the table from him. Hastily, he bowed deeply and most reverently. The elleth, with her luscious brown hair like rolling hills of freshly tilled earth, her exceedingly bright forest green eyes, and her green silky gown which graced her woman’s form in a manner which screamed of wholesomeness and fertility, obviously was one of the Valar.

“My Lady Yavanna,” Arafinwë gasped in awe, still deep in his bow.

“There is no need for such formality here, my Child. Please sit and enjoy your wine. I made it especially for you.”

Awkwardly, he straightened and returned to his chair. “My Lady, w…why are you here?” then he paused a moment, his brow furrowed in confusion. “And why am I here?”

“Ah, Child, it is too early in the afternoon for such deeply philosophical questions,” she waved her hand dismissively as she spoke. Lavender flowers appeared in her hair, sprouting and blooming in the span between one breath and the next.

He stared at her, uncertain what to say or do, so he sipped his wine.

She took a long drink from a glass which materialized in front of her. “You have been busy, young one.”

“I have,” he agreed uncertainly.

She regarded him shrewdly. “It is very strange indeed that which you remember and that which you have forgotten. Still though,” she reached across the table (which seemed to have shrunk in order to facilitate her movement) and brushed a few stray hairs back into his fraying braid. “I guess it was necessary for your healing and for all of this to take place,” she gestured encompassing, he was not certain what exactly.

“You have lovely eyes,” she observed brushing his cheek with her fingertips and lifting his chin to turn his head slightly this way and that, obviously examining him, though for what purpose he did not know. “As we speak, I am seeing the light of your spirit burn more brightly in them. That is good. Very good. You do love her dearly and have poured so much of yourself into her and into sustaining the children.” She reached out with her other hand and brushed the back of his head. He inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled as the urge took him. Repeating this simple process several times, he felt the strength return to his spirit and his limbs.

“Good! Excellent! You learn quickly and you remember my touch from a time before. Did she tell you that she nearly died in childbirth with her last child?” - he worriedly shook his head no, tears springing to his eyes at the implications of what could happen to Faroniel.- “Even now she does not possess the strength needed to bear these two without you by her side. I am so pleased that you were open to my assistance today. I believe the four of you will come through this just fine. She has brought you healing which I deem you would not have found otherwise. The Second Born are so remarkable that way! Rejoice in her and in your children. The lives of the Second Born are all too brief. Savor your time with them while you can.”

She handed him his glass. “Finish your drink. Your time is at hand atar Laurehér. Remember my touch and the peace you feel in your heart at this moment. It will strengthen you and thereby strengthen her and the children though this long night. Be sure to give your thanks to Eru Ilúvatar when your family greets the new dawn. You truly have been blessed in a most remarkable way.”

Leaning forward, the table vanished, allowing her to place a kiss on his forehead. He bowed his head and immediately felt someone shaking his shoulder.

He opened eyes to see Angadan and Tathariel’s eldest standing over him. “Aunt Faroniel sent me to fetch the midwife, Uncle Laurehér.” The boy said breathlessly. “You must come. It is time.”

XXXXX

The cabin was crowded with the bustling about of the midwife and Tathariel, seeing to Faroniel’s needs and preparing this and that for the arrival of the twins. The smith’s wife brought dinner for everyone except for Faroniel who had no interest in eating as her pains grew greater and closer together. Laurehér felt rather useless and out of place, not knowing what to do other than to stay by his beloved’s side. He held his wife through the contractions, rubbing her back, encouraging her, and singing to her to help relax her. As the evening turned to night, the draw on his strength and spirit grew greater.

Even though the pains were strong and frequent, lasting a long time at each instance, still little progress seemed to be made as the agonizing hours passed. The room smelled increasingly of sweat, blood, and fear. Faroniel wept uncontrollably, her tears mixing with perspiration, as she begged again and again for easing and relief. Laurehér felt panic rising within him, unsure how he could possibly help and frightened at what could happen to her. He could not bear to lose her. She and the children were all he had. They had to survive!

Freely he poured more and more of himself into the children’s spirits, allowing them to take whatever they needed to get through this difficult time. At one point as Faroniel dug her nails into his back, clinging to him weakly in her distress, her slick hair sticking to his cheek and neck, Laurehér recalled Yanvanna’s peace and suddenly a song came to his lips.

Clutching Faroniel to him as best he could, he gently rocked her, singing the unfamiliar song. The air grew lighter, the room grew brighter, the stench lessened.  The midwife swore as she and Tathariel stepped back away from the bed but Laurehér closed his eyes, ignoring them as he continued to sing. He sensed a strong light in the room dazzling through his eye lids, but kept on singing as the words came to him. Suddenly Faroniel gasped and relaxed in his arms. The light seemed to be dimming after a few more verses, finally fading when the song faltered and she suddenly held him tighter than she had for some hours.

“I love you so much,” she whispered in his ear.

He opened his eyes and leaned back, surprised to see an almost elven brightness to her eyes. Her skin literally glowed with a fading golden light as did his arms. He held up his hands in wonder and looked at them as they dimmed as well, returning to their normal color.

Faroniel rubbed her swollen belly. “Something had changed,” she said.

Laurehér placed his hand on her stomach and noticed the change as well. “Check her again,” he told the midwife.

She looked at him uncomprehendingly, pointing and gaping. “You…You-“

Sighing in exasperation, Laurehér arose and took the midwife’s hand and drew her back to the bed, “Please check her. Something has changed, I think it might finally be time.”

“What did you do, Laurehér?” Tathariel asked equally awestruck.

“I…I think it was a song of power,” he replied quietly. As they continued to stare uncomprehendingly, he elaborated, “A song of healing and renewal. Please…please just see to my wife.”

The midwife nodded slowly. “I have never seen…” but then her voice trailed off as she snapped back to the duty at hand. Briefly she checked Faroniel then agreed. “The first one is here. It is time.”

Not long afterward, Laurehér held first a daughter and then a son in his arms.

XXXXX

While Tathariel and the midwife still tended Faroniel, changing the bed and helping her settle in to sleep, Laurehér took the babies outside. The first rays of dawn kissed each downy head. He noticed to his delight that his daughter’s hair shown with radiant gold in the new light while his son’s curly hair glistened silver.

True to his word to Yavanna and because he felt in his heart this was something he needed to do, he gently raised his left arm just a bit where his daughter snuggled close.

“Eru Ilúvatar , Manwë, and Varda, and all the assembled Valar who may deign to hear... I present my newborn daughter Andreth Laurehériel. My wife chose her name and I concurred to honor the mortal maid Andreth beloved of Prince Aicanáro Finarfinion. I give my thanks for the life of this child added unto my house and I ask your blessings upon her. I pray that she will be wise and strong and serve you well.” Bending a bit, he kissed his daughter’s forehead and she sighed in her sleep. Tears slipped down his face, but he did not bother to wipe them away, realizing that more would be following.

In the same manner, he lifted his son. The boy started to cry, so he cuddled him close again, until he calmed. Chuckling, Laurehér said, “Well, you will have to admire him from here, because the little one does not seem to want to be so far away from me. I present to you my son-” the baby started to cry again so he paused, cuddling him some more and kissing his forehead and chubby cheeks, “my son Aicanáro Laurehérion. I chose his name and my wife concurred to honor the Noldorin prince who loved a Mortal but never pursued nor consummated that love. I give my thanks for the life of this child added unto my house and I ask your blessings upon him. I pray that he will be wise and strong and serve you well.”

He paused again, sniffling and trying to figure out how he could wipe his face or his nose while holding the children. Smiling guiltily, he continued, “You will have to accept me as I am. It has been a very long night and a very long pregnancy for me. I am so weary now, yet my joy knows no bounds. I thank you for the blessing of my beloved Faroniel and this joy added unto us. I do not know what fate awaits my children, being the offspring of Elf and Mortal. I only know the fate awaiting my mortal wife, and I know I will persist after she is gone. I…”

He wiped his face on his son’s blanket. “I am sorry, my sweet, but I had to. Do not tell you ammë! She will not be pleased.” He turned his face upward again. “I am sorry. I…I ask that my children…I do not know what I should wish for them. I am three thousand years old, but I was so alone and unhappy, hating the memories of my life before until Faroniel loved me. I do not want my children to persist if they must be alone and know the pain I know and have known. I would not wish that fate on anyone. I guess…I guess I wish for my daughter and my son to be happy and to know love. Perhaps it is more merciful if they are fated to be mortal.”

He bowed his head and closed his eyes, tears flowing freely. “I do not want to lose Faroniel. I do not know what I will do when she dies. It hurts so much to even think about it.” He buried his face in his son’s blanket and wept.

The sun shone brightly through the trees, the last visage of dawn fading from the sky when he stirred again. He felt an arm around his shoulders and looked up into the face of Tathariel. Gently she wiped his face with a cloth.

“My sister is so very lucky to have you. Come inside. I have made you something to break your fast. The babies, I’m certain, need new diapers. I can teach you how to change them as well. We need to bathe them, too. The water is warming as we speak.”

He nodded to her and allowed her to lead him into the cabin. Carefully she and the midwife each took a baby from his arms while gesturing to the table for him to sit. Faroniel slept peacefully on the bed, enjoying a well-earned rest. Quietly, he went to her and kissed her lips.

“I love you so very much,” he whispered, then backed away and went to the table to eat.

XXXXX

Later that day, he lay on the bed beside Faroniel. Her sister and the midwife had left a little while before with the promise of returning later to fix a hot meal for them. When Faroniel finished nursing the babies, he held the sleeping Andreth and she held Aicanáro who had fallen asleep first.

“They are so very beautiful,” Faroniel whispered in awe, repeatedly kissing the little boy’s head and rubbing her chin against his soft hair.

Laurehér could not help smiling. “He has your hair, I think, and his face promises to be more like yours, but his eyes are shaped like mine. It was so strange holding him earlier when he first woke up and seeing my own eyes staring back at me.”

Faroniel beamed brightly with delight. “Well, he has big shoulders like yours. I bet he will make a fine smith just like his adar.” Faroniel leaned over and appreciatively kissed Laurehér on the lips. He grinned unabashedly when she leaned away again and settled back on the pillows.

His son might grow up to be a smith like him. The thought thrilled him as he suddenly found himself struck with a vision of a tall broad-shouldered ellon, curly silver hair wisping away from the single braid down his back. Dirty from working at a forge, the ellon was busy examining something small and metallic in his hands – hands which were large and strong just like Laurehér’s.  Behind him another ellon with golden hair that was just as curly, but only a little more neatly braided, pumped the bellows to bring up the fire in the forge. When the golden-haired ellon straightened, he turned, and Laurehér was surprised to see that his eyes were the same shape and shade of blue as Faroniel’s.

The image faded, leaving Laurehér feeling dazed with wonder. Had he just seen a vision of another child of his? He knew in heart that the silver-haired ellon was his Aicanáro, but the other one? Was Aicanáro to have a brother then? Two sons to work side by side with him!

He sighed, shaking his head. The bearing of the twins had been hard on him and Faroniel both. He was not certain that he could endure another pregnancy with her. Glancing over at her while holding Andreth, he realized that if his wife asked him for another child in a few years’ time he would have great difficulty refusing her no matter the cost to him. His heart rejoiced in the joy on his wife’s face at this moment and at what he felt within himself as well.

But then it occurred to him, too, that he was a warrior as well, and he knew he was a good one. He had been a captain of an entire army. His grin faded as he realized that it just might fall upon his son to fight one day. It was one thing to make swords, but quite another to have to wield one and kill with one. Desperately he hoped that his son would never have to use one to kill.

Andreth stirred in his arms. He touched the back of one of her hands with his finger and she clutched the tip of his finger in her tiny hand as she drifted back to sleep. He smiled at how little and perfect she appeared before his eyes. Gently turning the hand still wrapped around his finger, he admired the impossibly small nails which were already surprisingly sharp. Something would have to be done about them before she hurt herself. Her face, her hands, everything about her was simply beautiful to him. He could see himself in her face, but he could see her mother in her as well.

For a long while, he stared at her, marveling at her and the fact that she had been added unto him – and the fact that she was their child. The longer he observed her, memorizing every detail of her, the more he realized that he was hopelessly in love with her. Briefly despair filled him as it occurred to him that he would be able to deny her nothing, but he shook it off. He and Faroniel had few possessions, but they could and would give their children what they did have: knowledge and love.

He felt warmth against his shoulder and looked over to see Faroniel nestling in beside him, her eyes closed, already succumbing to a deep slumber. Turning a bit, he kissed her forehead, earning himself a weak smile. Settling back a bit more, he made certain Andreth was secure in his arms, then allowed himself to slip onto the Path of Dreams yet maintaining just enough awareness to know when the babies stirred even the slightest in their sleep. No more visions came to him that night.