"It's a boy. A fine and healthy boy." The midwife's calloused hand swept a dampened cloth across her brow, wiping away her sweat and tears. "The afterbirth will follow soon and then you can rest."
She almost laughed aloud. Rest? That was a concept unfamiliar to her; but she had to admit her exhaustion, if only to herself.
The women were murmuring together in the corner of the small room as they bathed and wrapped her son. Her son! She smiled. Arathorn will be so proud. He'll be home in a fortnight. Then, together again, we'll celebrate this new chieftain.