For Radbooks, for her birthday
A true drabble:
Nativity of a Future King
“The child was safely born?”
“Indeed, Lord Arathorn--you have a son--a most wonderful son!”
Gilraen, exhausted, smiled up at her husband, indicating the small bundle in the crook of her arm. “A son, husband. And one who fought being expelled all the way. A warrior born!”
The Chieftain of the northern Dúnedain reached to lift his child from the bed. “Valiant already, is he? A worthy grandson to Arador, then!” He held the infant in the crook of his arm and pulled back the blanket, his heart already given to this child. “Aragorn, then, we shall name you!”
Nativity of a Future King
“The child was safely born?”
“Indeed, Lord Arathorn--you have a son--a most wonderful son!”
Gilraen, exhausted, smiled up at her husband, indicating the small bundle in the crook of her arm. “A son, husband. And one who fought being expelled all the way. A warrior born!”
The Chieftain of the northern Dúnedain reached to lift his child from the bed. “Valiant already, is he? A worthy grandson to Arador, then!” He held the infant in the crook of his arm and pulled back the blanket, his heart already given to this child. “Aragorn, then, we shall name you!”