Heir of Ithilien

She spent hours counting the pains as they came and went, getting closer together. The midwife and healers were all a-flutter, and Eowyn half wished she weren’t in such a state. Actually, she was wishing she were riding across the plains or Rohan, the wind whipping through her hair, and the surging muscles of her horse beneath her.

“Push, my Lady,” Eowyn did as told, until she felt her child leaving her body.

“Congratulations, my Lady! It’s a boy!”

“My son,” she whispered with a smile as they handed the child to her, wrapped in blankets and squalling quite loudly.