Hide the Knives

Minas Tirith

Year 9, Fourth Age

Aragorn peered cautiously around the door. Thanks be to Ilúvatar! She slept!

With silent steps he crept into the room, across the floor and to the bed. He gazed down upon his beloved and the precious bundle safe against Arwen's side – his newborn son. Sitting with care on the edge of the bed, he reached out to touch a soft cheek, caress a tiny hand, note the dark swath of hair. The babe was beautiful. He smiled.

A soft intake of air caught his notice and he glanced up at his wife. He felt the blood drain from his face, and his hand moved of its own volition to protect certain parts of himself. For a moment, he considered fleeing once more. Then she smiled and reached for him, drawing him down to lay beside her, their infant snuggled between them.

"Does this mean you forgive me?" he asked, taking her hand and placing a kiss on her palm.

"I fear it is I who must beg forgiveness, my husband. I fear I said things – awful things – that I have no intention of implementing." Her eyes lowered meaningfully to his trousers.

Aragorn began to laugh. He supposed his order to have all the knives removed from their quarters had been a bit rash. Relief filled him as he laid his arm around her, drawing her closer without disturbing their son. "I have never seen you so angry. I feared you would never look at me again."

She smiled up at him, a mischievous light filling her eyes. "I have never experienced such pain before. At the moment, it seemed to be your fault. And I could only think of one way to prevent it from happening again." They laughed.

She looked down and stroked the top of the babe's head. "Now I see it was a beautiful gift you gave me."

"He is a fine son. He will do Gondor proud."

"Like his father. But what shall the people call their new prince, Estel? You need to name your son."

He traced a finger over the gentle point of tiny ear, seeing so much of both he and his beloved in their child. "Eldarion. Eldarion, they will call him, for he will be a legacy of your people, even as he rules mine."

Arwen smiled then pressed a kiss to Eldarion's head. "Son of the Eldar. It is a good name."

Author's note: While I am aware that most believe elves did not experience pain on the same level as Men when it came to child bearing, I do believe they experienced much discomfort. I also think with Arwen's choice of mortality, her mixed heritage, and having never experienced such a thing before, the experience may have been much more than she was expecting.