A/N: Since so many people have loved my Éowyn/Faramir stories, here’s another one about their first child, which I wanted to be a girl. (For those of you who watch Gilmore Girls: Yes, I did steal the name, but I don’t own it. It’s just such a pretty name, and I thought it would fit in the Middle-earth world.) Onto the story!

The Blessing of a Child

“Are you certain?” Éowyn asked the healer. The past few days, she had not been feeling well, so she had decided to go see a healer and find out what was wrong.

“Yes, my lady,” Nìrethel said, smiling. “I am certain. You are with child.”

Éowyn felt her cheeks flush and she smiled. “Thank you,” she replied, “Is there anything I should do?”

“For the time, my lady, no. But as your pregnancy increases, I would strongly encourage you to come in for regular check-ups.”

Éowyn smiled again. “Thank you so much,” she said, standing and leaving.

***********************************************************

Éowyn tried to go about her day as normal, but she kept smiling to herself and touching her stomach, which she noticed was slightly larger than normal.

‘I’m going to have a baby,’ she thought, feeling happiness swell over her. She couldn’t wait to tell Faramir.

But she would wait; she wanted to wait for a special occasion to tell him. The perfect time would be their anniversary, which was in a few days.

That night, Faramir asked, “How are you feeling, my love? Did you go see a healer today?”

“Yes, I did,” she said kissing him on the cheek with a smile. “There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m perfectly healthy.”

“And what has you so happy?” he asked, pulling back to look at his wife expectantly.

“No particular reason. I just feel happy to be married to you,” she answered with another smile.

“Well, I certainly can’t disagree with that, love.”

**********************************************************

The whole week, it had been so hard for Éowyn to keep her news a secret. She had sworn Nìrethel to secrecy, as she wanted Faramir to be the first to know. Tonight, though, she would finally tell him.

Faramir had dismissed the servants for the rest of the evening so that they could have a romantic dinner alone. Éowyn put on one of Faramir’s favorite dresses (which was now a bit tight across the abdomen) – it was made of a dark green velvet with a gold belt and a dangerously provocative neckline; she only wore it for Faramir.

She walked down the staircase and smiled when she saw him waiting for her at the bottom. He looked so handsome; she knew that he would be thrilled.

“You look radiant, my love,” he said, greeting her with a kiss. “You’re positively glowing. Happy anniversary, darling.”

Éowyn smiled and kissed him back. “Happy anniversary, sweetheart. I love you so much. You look so handsome tonight.”

“Come, let’s eat,” Faramir said, taking her by the hands. “I have a wonderful dinner ready for us.”

She allowed him to lead her outside onto a balcony, where a table had been set with food and a single candle.

“A single candle for one year of the blissful happiness I have experienced in being your husband,” he told her, pulling her close.

Now was the perfect time to tell him. Faramir was going to be so surprised.

“I have something to tell you, my love,” Éowyn said.

“And what is that?”

Éowyn smiled. “I’m with child,” she whispered in his ear.

“You… you’re… pregnant?” he asked, astonished. She nodded with a smile and a laugh.

“How long have you known?”

“A few days,” she answered, “I found out when you sent me to go see a healer. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, you certainly did,” Faramir said, “I am definitely surprised.”

“A good surprised?” Éowyn asked tentatively.

“Of course. Of course it’s a good surprised,” he answered, kissing her softly and looking her in the eyes. “Words cannot describe how happy I feel right now. We’re going to have a baby.”

“But not for a while. Nìrithel said that it’s only been about six weeks,” she told him, running her long slender fingers through his subtle red hair. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, my love,” he said, kissing his wife lovingly and gently touching her stomach. “And our baby.” He looked down at her, tears of happiness shining brightly in his eyes. “Our child will have the best of everything.” Then he smiled and said, “Come, let’s eat. Now you are eating for two. You are going to need some new gowns. I’ll call for a seamstress to come tomorrow.”

Éowyn looked at him in mock anger and hit him playfully. “Let’s eat, love.”

******************************************************

As the months passed, Éowyn’s stomach grew and the Lord and Lady of Ithilien prepared for the arrival of their new child. When she was in her sixth month, Éomer and Lothíriel came to visit.

“Welcome, brother,” she said, hugging him. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hello, Éowyn,” he answered, holding her out at arm’s length. “I see that you have grown quite a bit since I last saw you, though it has mostly been sideways.”

Éowyn hit her brother annoyedly and glanced at Lothíriel. “I see that you have not been able to improve my brother’s manners at all.”

Lothíriel smiled. “You know how stubborn and insensitive he can be. It has been my observation that that is a characteristic common in most men of Rohan, but I am trying to work on that,” she told her sister-in-law, looking up at her husband.

“Then it seems that I made a wise choice in my husband, because your cousin is not so insensitive. He is wonderful,” she answered, running a hand over her large stomach.

“Have you decided on any names yet?” Éomer asked, wanting to draw that conversation away from him.

“No, not yet,” Faramir said, “You sister is stubbornly insisting on a traditional Rohirric name. I, however, wish for a Gondorian name.”

“Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?” Lothíriel asked.

Éowyn smiled up at Faramir. “I want a son that I can teach to ride and fight, but Faramir wants a daughter that he can spoil. For some reason, though, I think he opposes me just so he can annoy me.”

“You know me too well, my love, he answered playfully, giving her a small peck on the lips. Éomer cleared his throat and they looked at him.

“But whether it is a boy or girl, we will love it no matter what,” Faramir said, giving Éowyn’s shoulders a small squeeze.

“I can’t wait until we have a child of our own,” Lothíriel said, sliding an arm around Éomer. “I’ve always loved children and have always wanted one of my own.”

“Well, come,” Éowyn told them, “You must be hungry after your long trip. Let’s eat.

“I’m sure your appetite has increased as well,” Éomer said in an undertone, but not escaping Éowyn’s ears and earning another hit from his sister, as well as his wife.

********************************************************

Éowyn groaned and slowly sat up. Being nine months pregnant certainly had its drawbacks.

“Good morning, love,” Faramir said, kissing his wife on the cheek, “How are you feeling?”

“You ask me that question every hour,” she said, “And my answer is always the same; I feel fine.”

“Sorry, love,” he apologized, “It’s just that you are to be due in a week, and I’m nervous. What are you going to do today?”

“I was going to go to the market and pick up a few things,” she said, “We’ve run out of fresh fruit, and I wanted to get some flowers.”

“Oh no you don’t, Éowyn,” he said, “You are not, going to tromp through Emyn Arnen just to get some fruit and flowers – not in your condition. Let one of the servants go instead.”

“Don’t patronize me. I am perfectly capable of walking to the market,” she told him, “You know that I will go whether you want me to or not.”

“Fine, then. But I don’t want you to go alone. Why don’t you take Beregond with you?”

“Fine,” Éowyn agreed, “Have a good day, darling. I’ll see you later.”

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“I’m sorry for dragging you out here like this,” Éowyn told Beregond as they strolled through the marketplace of Emyn Arnen, “but Faramir wouldn’t let me leave the house unless I brought you with.”

“It is no trouble, my lady,” he replied, “It is an honor to escort you.”

“Good day, Lady Éowyn,” one of the merchants said when she stopped at his booth, “How are you feeling this day?”

“Good morning, Varandir. I am feeling well, though the young one is kicking much more than usual,” she answered with a smile, feeling the swell of her belly.

“Ah, that is a good sign, my lady. It means that you will soon give birth,” he told her, “What can I get for you today?”

“I need a dozen apples and half a dozen oranges,” she said, handing him her basket.

Varandir filled up the basket and handed it back to her. After she had paid, he remembered something. “I have something for you, Lady Éowyn. It’s not much, just a gift from my wife and I,” he said, handing her a folded blanket.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling as she examined the blanket. “It’s beautiful. I know that our child will cherish it. Thank you so much.”

Éowyn handed her basket to Beregond and they headed back to the house. When they were about halfway back, Éowyn stopped and doubled over, feeling a pain in her stomach.

“Lady Éowyn! Are you all right?” Beregond asked concernedly.

“I… I’m fine,” she said, standing up straight and felling her stomach. “The baby just kicked a little hard.” Yes, she was lying through her teeth, but didn’t want Beregond to worry. She knew she was starting to go into labor, but she hoped they would be able to get back quickly.

“We’d better hurry back so you can rest, my lady,” he told her, and they picked up their pace.

They had nearly reached the front door, with only a few stops since, when Éowyn doubled over again. This time, the pain was much worse.

“We’re nearly there, my lady. Can you make it?”

“I’ll try,” she told him, straightening up with a grimace. Beregond then helped her the rest of the way to the house and upstairs. After she was lying in her bed, she said to Beregond, “Go send for a doctor and for Faramir. Hurry!”

“My lady?” he asked, not understanding. “What’s wrong?”

“The baby…” she gasped, “it’s coming. Tell them the baby’s coming!”

“Yes, my lady,” he said, rushing out of the room.

*****************************

Éowyn let out a sigh. It had been a long and painful labor, but it was finally over. She had given birth to a healthy baby girl, and she couldn’t be happier. She adjusted the blanket around her face and brushed a finger against her tiny cheek. She was so precious; a tiny angel sent to them by the Valar.

Faramir entered the room and walked over to Éowyn. “How are you feeling, my love?” he asked.

“Tired,” she answered, “but content.”

“And how is our daughter?” he asked, brushing her hair back.
“Sleeping,” she said with a smile.

“We still have to decide upon a name,” he told her, kissing her forehead.
“I decided to let you choose the name,” she replied.

Faramir raised his raised his eyebrows, thoroughly surprised. “You have?”

“Yes, I did,” Éowyn said, smiling at his surprise. “Since we had a girl, I decided to let you name her. And don’t pretend that you didn’t already choose names; I know I had.”

He grinned at her. “Yes, I have, love. I chose the name Lorelai. Do you like it?”

“Of course I do,” she replied, smiling down at their baby. “Lorelai is a beautiful name; I love it. She’ll love it.”

Faramir sat down on the other side of the bed and smiled down at Lorelai. “She is so precious; so perfect. She’s as beautiful as her mother.”

Éowyn smiled and kissed her husband lovingly and tenderly.