The Steward's Son

Year 2978 of the Third Age

Denethor, son of Ecthelion paced in the hallway. He was excited and impatient as he heard the pained sounds of his wife in the Houses of Healing. At long last his first born child was coming into the world. He hoped his first child was a boy. Denethor longed for a son ever since he married.

--

Finduilas cried in agony as she felt a contraction.

"You must relax, my lady", the midwife said. "Your child will be born soon."

"It hurts", Finduilas cried. "Why must women suffer the pain of bearing children?"

"It is nature taking its course, my lady. It has always been that way."

"Curse nature…"

She screamed in pain as the next contraction broke through her. The midwife gently placed a damp rag on her forehead trying to make her more comfortable.

"I want Denethor", Finduilas cried.

"You will see him after the child is born", the midwife said. "Now it's time to give your child life. I need you to push now."

Finduilas screamed as loud as she could as she pushed. It felt like she was being torn in half.

"Curse you, Denethor!" she yelled from the pain. "Curse you for doing this to me!"

"You are doing well", the midwife said. "The child's head is coming through."

Finduilas laid back against the pillows as she breathed heavily. She hoped she bore a son because as much as Denethor would plead, she would not do this again. She cried again as she started pushing again. Finduilas pushed until she heard the high-pitched cry of the newborn baby.

"What is it?" she asked.

"You have a son, my lady", the midwife smiled as she wrapped the baby in a blanket.

"A son. Denethor will be proud."

The midwife placed the baby in Finduilas' arms before going to the door. Denethor rushed in to see the baby.

"It's a son, Denethor", Finduilas said.

"A son", he smiled proudly.

"What should we name him?"

He took the child into his arms and looked at him. His son had copper fuzz on his head. He had his mother's sparkling blue eyes. The child had a strong grip on his finger making Denethor smile.

"He's already strong", he said. "He will make a strong and powerful soldier of Gondor."

"Yes", Finduilas said. "But what will we name him?"

Denethor looked at their son who looked back at him. He smiled as he raised the child over his head finally choosing a name.

"Boromir."

"Boromir?" Finduilas asked.

"Yes", he said. "Boromir, named after the great warrior of Gondor. The son of the eleventh steward of Gondor, Denethor I."

"Your namesake", she smiled. "Very well. Boromir it is."

Denethor sat next to Finduilas as they both looked at Boromir who nodded to sleep in his father's arms.