Third Line

The king had heard her cursing him while he paced the corridor, but now silence descended. He tensed, then there was a sound not heard in Meduseld for over thirty years.

She lay in their bed, her black hair spread across the pillow, looking exhausted and impossibly happy at the same time. Kneeling by her side his glance was drawn towards the small bundle she cradled in her arms. For a moment slate grey eyes in a red and wizened face met his own and a small fist closed on his thumb.

He had family again. “Thank you,” he whispered.