Light fades and I tuck the blanket around my sleeping son. Although the nurse could do this when I leave, it seems right for me to tend to Ereinion what little I can. My schedule allows so few moments to see him, or his mother.
I look across the room, past the rocking chair and changing table to the alcove where my wife sleeps. A bond of marriage and binding through the birth of our son, and still, her presence does little to comfort me; her purpose little more than the means of bearing an heir. Like the mares used for breeding, she no longer enjoys the bliss of freedom or the joys of freewill. My heart aches for what I am putting her through.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Fingon, Ereinion