Characters: Elrond, Arathorn and Gilraen
Disclaimer: Tolkien’s world, Tolkien’s people… Kortirion’s just imagining.
The day began cold, clear... the falls misted, heavy with snow-melt. Rivendell began to stir, cooks tended fires, grooms tended horses. Gilraen and Arathorn woke and breakfasted, though it was so near her time she’d little appetite beyond the first mouthfuls. Her pains began about noon, but first-born are slow; now it was long after midnight, her travails still uncompleted.
Arathorn fretted silently, staring aloft. Elrond murmured,
"There are Wanderers and Fixed Stars... some who stay... some who come and go..."
A sudden bright star arced above as they heard a cry.
“Rejoice” Elrond smiled, “‘tis your son’s birth-day!”