Child of the Woods by Aprilertuile

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Chapter 3: The birth

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Their arrival in the Pasture of Yavanna had been quiet. They had been gladly welcomed, and Nerdanel had graciously avoided commenting on the looks some of the Maiar were giving her.

Fëanáro hadn’t felt half as kind but Nerdanel’s hand on his arm had held him back.

However, that same night, as Maitimo and Makalaurë had gone to sleep, Nerdanel had quietly gotten up to her feet, breathing carefully, and grabbed him:

“I am having the baby.”

“Excellent dear.”

She raised an eyebrow and just waited... And a few moments later: “WAIT! WHAT?!” Fëanáro exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

“I am having the baby.”

“Here and now?”

“No, in six months. YES here and now. So you will move your ass and help me!”

“No, no, no, you need to sit down and...”

“And offer our young sons the incredible sight of their mother giving birth to a bloody baby? I don’t think so. You. Help me. Now. Or I will castrate you to make sure it’ll be the last time we have this conversation.”

Fëanáro gulped and just offered her his arm.

“Good.”

“We can lead you to a safe place where you will not be disturbed and one of us is gone to Estë.” One of the... Maiar? Plants? Things? Told them, before shifting into a somewhat elven looking body, only one with bark like skin, amber-sap coloured eyes, and ivy for hair.

Fëanáro was itching to tell them exactly what they had done wrong in their portrayal of elves, but Nerdanel’s nails were now pinching the skin of his arm and he was pretty sure she was either about to pop the baby out or to tear out his arm.

The maia, for it was certainly one, led them to a secluded place not that far away where Nerdanel sat down on the moss with a groan.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed our years of intimacy because this was the last.” She muttered darkly for her husband.

“My adored wife, light of my life, however much I’d adore to have more children with you, shall you say stop, I would of course gladly comply with your desires and...”

“Fëanáro... I love you. I do. But you will stop with the pompous attitude, stop talking and hug me.”

Fëanáro looked mildly offended at that. Pompous? What pompous attitude? He wasn’t pompous!

But he couldn’t help a smile as he held her in his arms.

Soon enough another Maia arrived, alongside a couple of others far less plant-looking.

“You should give those other maiar lessons, because I don’t think they quite realise what an elf looks like.” Fëanáro said in a high pitched voice, even as a contraction hit his wife.

“Oh... Rudeness is your way to deal with stress?” One of the plant maiar said with a condescending tone of realisation.

It wasn’t done to start a fight while his wife was giving birth but it was really not for a lack of desire to do so that Fëanáro held back.

The birth was quick. Quicker than Nelyo’s birth had been, really.

When he greeted the world, that child hadn’t surprised him with his size. Neither had he broken several pieces of precious glass with his baby voice.

And yet, Fëanáro, seeing the infant, had nearly started to hyperventilate.

The child was a normal size, close to the size Makalaurë had been at birth, perhaps just a tad smaller. And the maia said he was healthy.

His cries had been as heartbreaking as any infant’s cry could be, but what had made Fëanáro react was his hair.

The newborn had a thin fuzz of hair as silver as... His own mother’s hair had been.

While Nerdanel had been exhausted and found it adorable... Fëanáro couldn’t help the shiver of dread that ran through him.

What if the child shared more things with his grand-mother?

What if he died because of this?

Was it a curse? Was he doomed to lose those he loved?

How would he know if the babe slept too much and was just... Slipping into Námo’s Halls unnoticed as his mother had at first?

“Don’t you want to hold your child?” The maia asked him.

Fëanáro looked at him as if he was stupid.

Touch the child? Right now? What if he just... fell asleep and died? What if just when the healer would leave something happened?

No, no, no, bad idea. Very bad idea. The child needs to stay in the arms of the healer. Yes, that’s a far better idea.

“Fëanáro, love, stop being an idiot, I want my child too, so take the child and come sit with me.” Nerdanel grouched.

Fëanáro could feel himself shaking as the maia put the child in his arms. He was frozen until he was pushed to sit at his wife’s side.

“He looks like...”

Nerdanel put a hand on his face gently:

“And he has your strength. Believe in him, my love. Believe in him.”

They settled there to rest, the baby in his father’s arms, and Nerdanel leaning against Fëanáro’s side.

Nerdanel’s words were turning around in Fëanáro’s head over, and over.

“Turkafinwë is my name for you, my son. So you will carry that strength wherever you go. You are strong and strong, you will remain... Please...” Fëanáro whispered to the child, long after his wife fell asleep at his side.