A/N: So, I really hadn't planned to write any more on this story any time soon, but then RubberKidney, troublemaker that she is, provoked me with her review suggestion. You can blame…er, thank Lialathuveril for this taking so long to post. It's all the better for her insightful input. Actually, the delay is all my fault. Lia responded promptly to my questions, but I was slow to get them implemented. Sorry 'bout that! CORRECTION: RubberKidney is a dude, or so he says. Don't you love internet anonymity? Apologies, but he's still a troublemaker, albeit a justified one.

Epilogue

"Thank you for coming," Eomer said, fervently hugging her. "I did not want to bother you, drag you all the way here, but—"

"Hush that nonsense! You should have sent for me sooner. She shouldn't have to experience this with only strangers and acquaintances to attend her. Of course I would come. Now where is she?"

"This way." He gestured to the door.

"How long has she been in her travail?"

"Many hours now. Is that normal? Everyone says that is normal, but—"

"Eomer, take me to her, then find Eothain and go for a long ride. You will go mad sitting still and waiting, and likely then you will drive everyone around you mad as well."

He grinned sheepishly, opening the door to the bedchamber. "Maybe I will do that. But not far. I want to be here when he comes."

"Hoo hoo! So sure it is a son, are you? Go!"

She closed the door firmly in his face. King or not, men had no place in a birthing room unless they were a healer.

Lothiriel looked over to see who had entered. Her eyes lit with surprise and delight. Offering a weak smile, she said, "I am glad you are here. It will be easier to get through this with you at my side."

"Hush that! If that silly husband of yours had thought to send someone to collect me a week ago, you would not have had to endure this alone." She patted the girl's hand, glancing around at the others in the room. "I had thought your friend Seftehad would be with you."

Lothiriel had closed her eyes with weariness, but blinked them open, grimacing as another pain moved through her. After a moment, she explained, "She has come as much as she could, but she has her own babe too young to be left alone for long, so cannot stay."

After a shift in position, to hopefully ease her discomfort somewhat, Lothiriel added, "Truth is, I think she and Ceorl prevailed upon Eomer to send for you. Seftehad did not like seeing me without someone by my side through the worst of this, and regretted she could not be here herself. She judged you would be the next best thing."

"Men! It is fortunate someone with sense dared reproach Eomer. This will not happen with your next child, you may be certain."

Lothiriel blanched, giving a drawn out groan before scowling at her. "Do not speak of more children until I am done with this one, if you please."

With a chuckle, she looked toward the midwife for information.

The midwife suppressed a smile. Whoever this woman was, she liked her and her honest opinions, freely given. "Not too much longer. The babe has moved into position, and she is well open. The pains have been long and strong, and the birthing should begin in earnest within the next hour or so."

"Oh!" Lothiriel gasped, squeezing her hand tightly. "Oh, oh, oh!"

The midwife smiled. "As I was saying, possibly in the next quarter hour."

She chuckled. There was only so much that was predictable about a child's birth. For the most part, they came when they chose, regardless if the mother, father or world was ready for them. She released Lothiriel's hand long enough to pull on an apron a servant was offering to her, and then washed her hands in the basin on the table.

Another spasm wrenched a groan of pain from Lothiriel, and she winced in sympathy. It had been many years since her own daughter was born, but she still recalled the excruciating pangs needed to bring about the child coming forth.

The midwife eyed her carefully. "You have attended a birth before?"

"Several, including my own labor."

The midwife nodded, deciding the elderly woman was not up to physically assisting the queen. She gestured for her to sit at Lothiriel's feet. "Keep an eye on things while we prepare for the delivery."

Two of the girls assisting tried to wipe Lothiriel's face with damp cloths, and cover her with another blanket to ease her shivers, but she pushed them away.

The midwife silently glanced over to see how things were progressing. Another groan led into a strong contraction.

"The head is showing. Down to business now," she murmured. "Come, my dear. Hold on – you can do this. Just a while longer. Your child is nearly here and this misery will only be a memory."

Save for the sounds of panting and pushing, the room was mostly silent as the labor progressed. It was evident the queen was exhausted. With any luck, the birthing would soon conclude and she could rest. At least she was young, healthy and strong to begin with – that would help immensely.

"Let's get her onto the birthing stool," the midwife instructed after checking the progress for herself.

"Must I get up?" Lothiriel asked reluctantly. "I am so tired."

"I know, dear one, but the birthing chair will make this final part easier, and help bring this to an end. Do as the midwife says."

It took some doing to get Lothiriel on her feet and onto the stool set close by, but the midwife always used the strongest girls as assistants for just that reason. Two stood behind, providing extra support as the queen squatted over the stool's opening.

"Here he comes," Betersel said quietly, resuming her position at Lothiriel's feet as the queen let out an extended grunt at the effort of pushing. She smiled, shaking her head, then murmured to herself, "Now he's got me assuming it is a boy."

Then there was no more time for idle thoughts. "This one is coming quickly – he's in a hurry to join the world, just like his papa was," she announced. She made sure a towel was at hand, and the midwife bustled around checking how the queen was holding up and that all was proceeding as it should.

Another half hour, and several more strains, were needed before the babe slid forth. "I've got him." With quick, sure movements, she wiped the blood and mucus from his face. She smiled. "Beautiful."

Lothiriel sprawled exhausted on the stool, catching her breath, as the women around her spoke soothingly and wiped her brow. Now she did accept a blanket.

The midwife was checking the babe, again clearing his mouth and nose, then cutting and tying the umbilical cord. Lothiriel had responded to a few sips of warm, watered wine, and so the midwife oversaw getting her settled back on the bed while Betersel lovingly cleaned the child. When she finished, one of the assistants handed her a fresh, soft blanket and she deftly wrapped the infant up to keep him warm.

"Time for you to meet your Mama, little one." She carried him to Lothiriel's bed and placed him on her stomach. The girl's eyes widened in awe and delight.

"He is wonderful," she murmured, a few tears trickling out.

"That he is," she replied. "Well done, my dear."

"Thank you, 'Grandma' Betersel. Perhaps you would take word to Eomer. Best to end his suffering as soon as possible."

Betersel chuckled. "Aye. And he'll want to see the two of you."

"Oh!" Lothiriel's eyes went round. "More contractions!"

She reached for the baby. "Let me have him. You have one more task before you're done. I'll take this young man for a moment. When the afterbirth comes forth, you can try to nurse him, if you feel up to it."

Lothiriel reluctantly released the baby to her, but then smiled again. "I am glad you were with me if my own mother could not be. I had not looked forward to going through this without anyone beside me save for the midwife and her assistants, but I did not like to ask anyone to come."

Betersel's face softened. "I am honored to stand in for your mother, as I have done for Eomer and Eowyn. After all, we are family now."

"Yes," she agreed tearfully, "we are."

THE END, again

8-23-17 – 9/14/17