Morenwenna sat outside her well-appointed house in Falathlorn taking in the fresh, clean air after the day’s rains stopped. The hour after a rain was always such a pleasant time, with water still dripping from the trees, birds singing after the rain, and the smell of the world having just been bathed in clean waters.
As Morenwenna enjoyed the evening damps, her thoughts were interrupted by the shrill cry of a hawk circling overhead, alighting on a nearby branch and chittering wildly for attention.
“What troubles you, little friend?” she called out in the Elven-tongue, “are you not the bird called Maedwen, the friend of the hobbit, Applecider?” And Maedwen the hawk replied:
“I am she, that is me!
I come from the valley below, with news of dear friends you know!
The LadyRedElf on the grass did swoon, her sweet child is coming too soon!
Make haste, make haste, there’s no time to waste!”
As the hawk flew off to take her tidings to others, Morenwenna thought to herself, “The bird is right, it’s too soon, something’s wrong! I have to help, if I can!” And without a moment more, she sped down the lanes of Falathlorn on foot to the home of her friend, Seregrían.
Morenwenna arrived at Torech Besruth, the sprawling manor that Seregrían and her husband Cutch called home. Without knocking, she burst into the entrance and, seeing people gathered in the guest chamber, she entered in.
There lay Seregrían on the bed, robed only in a white shift, propped up by a few pillows and her knees bent, clutching her stomach in obvious discomfort. Cutch was making her as comfortable as possible with one hand, mopping her brow with the other. Bustling about the chamber were two hobbits, Applecider and Royzenberry. Applecider was handing Seregrían a cup of tea, blowing on it to cool.
“Try that now,” she said, “if yeh cannae finish, thar be no shame in it.” Seregrían sipped the drink, then guzzled it. “Oie, now, not so fast!”
“Why, Seregrían, look!” Royzenberry cried happily. “Morenwenna has arrived! She got Maddie’s message, in time, Cider!”
“Seregrían,” Morenwenna said as she approached the bed to take her friend’s hand in both of hers. “I came as soon as I got the message. Cousin, what happened?”
“M-Morenwenna…” Seregrían said. “The Household was giving me a party... a 'baby shower', they called it - and we were all dancing. It was then - the pain, and I soaked myself...”
“Calmly now cousin, calmly now,” Morenwenna said.
“And... the child kept saying one word... Etho, etho...” then Seregrían clutched her middle. “Urrrgh!! Here it comes again!”
In one of the few times anyone there heard it, Applecider dropped her madcap façade, and turned confidently firm. “Yer right as rain, Miss Sergie, -- is that another one? Cry out if ye need, an’ then count! Breathe, let’s ‘ear it: ‘mîn, tâd, nêl, canad’ – go high as thirty if ye can; work with us ‘ere, Mum.”
“That’s right, cousin, breathe evenly and deeply, let your whole body feel it,” Morenwenna said. Seregrían began panting, puffing out breaths in rhythm with rocking, as Cutch patted her brow with a damp cloth. After several moments, Seregrían began breathing easier. “I made it to... twenty…”
“When pains last over thirty, an’ they’re so strong yeh can’t even count, we’re in for it,” Applecider said as she glanced out the window. “I dinnae see the riders from Duillond -- there's gotta be more rain in the hills. It might turn out t’be just us for this.”
“Cider, I have hot water on the hob in the kitchen, and towels are on the table next to the cradle,” Cutch said, and Applecider nodded.
“I was told... Elven childbirth is not so... uncomfortable...” Seregrían said.
“Are you certain it's an elven childbirth?” Morenwenna said. “A full year has not passed since the begetting!”
“True... which makes me believe... there's something wrong,” Seregrían gasped out. “A Mortal term of childbearing is supposedly nine months, and we've been only seven.”
'It's a bit early for Mortal births, as well,” Cutch said. “Seven in not uncommon for Mortals, although it’s not usual....''
“I’m nae worried, leastwide nae yet,” Applecider said. “Remember, she be a halfsie, an' her Mam's not wholly known fer patience,” Applecider grinned at Seregrían, who grimaced but returned the grin.
“And Princess already has shown ... awareness,” Cutch observed.
“Here it comes agaiinnnn!” Seregrían groaned, stopping all comments. Cutch took her hand, grimacing as she squeezed with uncharacteristic force, while Applecider started counting.
“That’s right, focus now, cousin,” Morenwenna said, “you are getting a milestone further each time.”
Cutch was silent, but his jaw working in his wife’s grip. Seregrían puffed her breaths once more. “Twenty-one... two... ahhhhh... it's done.”
“Bullroarer's Breath, we're getting’ closer,” Applecider said, then looked at Morwenna, “Are you doin' this or am I, Miss Morwen?'
“I have watched elf-children born, so I am not unfamiliar,” Morenwenna said. “But this is something new; I believe we’ll all be needed for this. We do it together?” Nodding agreement, Applecider rolled up her sleeves and shoved a chest of knick-knacks to the foot of the bed for something to stand on.
Royzenberry dashed out of the room. “I know almost nothing about babies and birthing, but I can fetch anything you call for!” She returned only moments later with the kettle of hot water from the kitchen and set it near the towels. “We’ll need more of these too, will we?”
“Pillows is needed now,” Applecider suggested, “We gots te keep her propped and comfy – snag those cushions off’n the sofa in the Salon, they’re nice an’ firm, an’ big, too!” Royzenberry scurried off once more.
“An’ hurry, afore she contracts again!” Applecider called out. She poured hot water into a basin, washed her hands, and took stock of what she had: a couple of clean linen towels, a ball of butcher's twine and a small knife.
Royzenberry rushed back in with the pillows and couch cushions, and additional cloths which she gave to Applecider. She, Morenwenna and Cutch swiftly arranged both cushions and Seregrían herself – just in time, for Seregrían 's face twisted, “Agaiiiinnn!!!” as the convulsions began anew. Cutch offered his hand again, despite the pain of the mother’s grip.
“Twenty-eight... nine... thirty!... one... phewwwww....” Seregrían said panted.
“Good job, Mum – but yonks,” Applecider said, “that were under five minutes from the last...”
“Sh-she is afraid,” Seregrían said painfully, “I keep telling her, she's coming to .... see me... and you.” Seregrían caressed her middle with one hand, still holding Cutch’s with the other. “It won't be... long now, little one...”
“Yes, Princess, it won’t be long now,” Cutch said, “we have a lovely home waiting for you.”
Applecider said quietly, “Listen here, Sprout… it's a lovely starry night 'ere -- you Elf-folks always awakes under the Stars. Yeh be safe 'ere; just take things easy now.”
“I think... I think... now... she's... ready... but I'm not,” Seregrían said. “Child... we are here... we can't wait to... see you at last...”
“Alright, Mum, we can say more sweet things later,” Applecider said. “Here goes, need yez to push now, we're on the move!'
“I’m gonna see a baby born,” Royzenberry said in awe, “What a day for everybody!” Seregrían 's teeth clenched as the greatest spasm yet struck her - she growled under her breath
“Scream if you gotta,” Applecider said, “just push for me!”
“Push?? How!?” Seregrían groaned.
“Whenever you feels pressure - it be just like clenching yer Elvish bum,” Applecider said. All there laughed a little at the image, but as the next wave hit, Seregrían pushed.
“Yell at the stars, if you wish,” Cutch said.
“The stars didn't do this to me, my Mortal fool!” Seregrían managed a wicked grin; Cutch just smiled and did not argue with her. “Cider? Can... can you see her? I can't tell...” Cutch mopped her brow again with loving strokes.
The pushing and pressure subsided, and Applecider spotted the pale crown of a tiny head with an even tinier tuft of night-black hair. “She's got hair! – bonnie black, an' near to sproutin'!”
Morenwenna gasped in delight, “A head! She’s coming!”
“I am... tired,” Seregrían said, “so weary... how much more...”
Royzenberry cheered, “You are almost there, mom and baby, not far till the finish line!!”
Applecider said, 'C'mon Sprout, once yer wee head is out, it will get easier. Alright, Miss Sergie, one more push now, th’ biggest ye got!”
“Now, child, noowww!” Seregrían heaved forward, her hand clawing into Cutch's leg - her growl hissed out from clenched jaws; Cutch 's jaw tightened, but he made no sound. Applecider seized a wet towel, wiping fluids from the baby's nose and mouth, and bopped her once on the nose to make her cry.
“She's breathin'! – stop pushin', the rest is on her now!” Applecider said, and a piercing cry filled the room. She caught the slippery, wriggling new creature, and lifted her directly to Seregrían's warm chest.
“Here be yer own baby daughter, Mam, an’ bonnie she be!” Applecider said with a rosy face and shining eye, “Aye, fair job to you too, little Missie.”
“You have made it cousin, you hear that?! You made it!” Morenwenna said.
“Yippee! She did it!” Royzenberry cheered from the table where she gathered up clean towels, hoping to offer them to anyone who asked. Morenwenna took one of the warm towels and draped it over both mother and child. Seregrían cuddled the newborn baby girl to her, wrapping her arms around her as if afraid to drop her. Cutch looped his arms around them both.
“Cutch... oh Cutch, look at her!” Seregrían said through tears, “The ears - leaf-blades! Her hair, black indeed! I - i've never seen anything so beautiful and fragile!”
“And she is not cursed with my great lump of a nose,” Cutch said grinning.
“Oh, you jes give her a few years,” Applecider said, and all there laughed.
