16th of Morning Star, 4E 180

"You know, if you keep knittin' like that, you'll use up all the wool in Skyrim. Won't be a sheep in the entire province with a patch of fluff on its body."

From across the room, my wife glared at me. Her knitting needles continued to clack together, and the sound they now made was almost an angry one. "We live in one of the coldest Holds in the province, Tolvar, and I don't want our baby to freeze."

I held my hands up in surrender. "I don't either. I'm just saying you may be going a little overboard. You've knitted enough clothes to last the little one half a year."

The last few months of her pregnancy, Aldia had begun what her friends called "nesting." She spent almost every waking moment preparing our house for the arrival of our little one, telling me to fix this and lock that, sending me into Windhelm on ridiculous errands to fetch foods that were not even in season, and knitting until her fingers bled. I may have made light of it, but deep down, I was worried for my wife. She had always been a frail woman, getting sick every season of the year, nearly fainting when harvesting crops. I was beginning to grow concerned about her well-being, and I wanted nothing more than to prevent her from hurting herself.

"Raldr is supposed to come by later," I said after silence had fallen between us, broken only by the creaking of Aldia's rocking chair and the clacking of her knitting needles. Outside, the wind howled, but our steady house kept us safe and warm. "Said he's got something for the baby."

"That's nice of him. Did you tell him he didn't have to get anything?"

I shrugged. "I can't tell him no. Not when he'll probably never have kids of his own."

"I just hope it's something suitable for a baby, and not some old dagger he found laying around his house."

I bristled a little. "Aldia, don't be like that. He would never do that."

Her needles stopped moving, and she laid the half-knitted sock on her lap. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it and gave me a confused look.

I got up and went to her. "What is it?"

Ever so carefully, she stood from her chair. She looked down, and I followed her gaze towards the seat. There was wetness on it.

My eyes widened and I looked back to Aldia. "Is that...?"

She nodded. The confusion on her face from earlier had been replaced by fear. "Tolvar...."

"It's all right, love." I took her hand in mine and patted it gently. "Don't panic. Deep breaths, remember?"

"You have to get the midwife."

"I can't leave you alone."

"But, Tolvar—"

"Listen, Raldr is coming. When he gets here, I'll send him to fetch the midwife. In the meantime, you need to lie down. Keep breathing."

Gently, I led her up the stairs, into the loft. I stripped the bed of the blankets and helped her lie back on the pillows. She clutched at my hand, her eyes wide and full of trepidation. She was so afraid, and had been ever since finding out we were expecting a baby.

Aldia's mother had died giving birth to her second child. Complications, the healer had said. The baby did not survive either, and Aldia's mother left behind a grief-stricken husband and small two-year-old daughter.

Now my wife was afraid the same thing would happen to her. That was why I had to keep calm, so I could keep her calm. I couldn't let her see how scared I was, too.

A few minutes later, the door swung open, bringing with it a nasty draft. I left the bedside and clambered down the stairs. Raldr stood in the doorway, bundled in furs and covered in snow. Under one arm, he had a deerskin-wrapped package tied with ratty twine.

"That storm is getting worse by the hour," he said, tramping his feet to shake the snow off his boots. By the calm tone in his voice, he hadn't noticed the apparent anxiety on my face. "Hope you don't mind if I bunk with you for the night."

"Thank Talos you're here, Raldr." I stopped him before he could step further into the house. "Aldia's gone into labor. We need someone to fetch the midwife. Can you—"

"Didn't you hear me, Tolvar? That blizzard ain't letting up anytime soon. I can't ride back to Kynesgrove now. I'll get lost."

I grabbed hold of his elbow and jerked him towards the fire. "What are we supposed to do, then?" I lowered my voice so Aldia wouldn't hear me. The last thing I needed was her to worry about the storm outside. "Aldia's already scared to death."

"You know I'd do anything for you, friend, but leaving now would be suicide."

"Please, Raldr. Take my horse if you have to. But please get the midwife. I don't know what to do."

Upstairs, Aldia let out a long moan. "Tolvar!"

My heart skipped a beat, and my expression turned desperate. "Raldr..."

Finally, my friend sighed. "Tack in the stable?"

I nodded. "Thank you."

"Don't think you don't owe me, 'cause you do. And I will collect."

"I don't care. I'll do whatever you want."

He chuckled, laid the small package down on the table, then pulled up his coat's hood. "Them's dangerous words, Tolvar. I'll see you soon."

Once he was gone, I raced back to the loft and dropped to my knees beside Aldia. "I'm sorry, dear. Raldr's gone to get the midwife. He'll be back before we know it. Do you need anything? Blankets? Water?"

She gave me a weak smile and took my hand. Squeezing gently, she lay back down and sighed. "Just don't leave my side."

I leaned down and kissed her forehead. "I won't leave you, my dear. Not now, not ever."

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18th of Morning Star, 4E 180

Nearly two days had passed, and still no sign of the little one.

Raldr and the midwife had returned safely—thank the Divines—and were still with us while we waited for Aldia to deliver. The midwife, a retired healer named Istalri, had said that Aldia was not anywhere close to delivering when she first arrived. The storm hadn't let up, either. It still raged, even harder than before, outside the walls.

I caught what little sleep I could, ate when I needed to, but spent every waking moment beside my wife, holding her hand and assuring her everything was all right. To show Aldia that everything truly was all right, Istalri cast a Detect Life spell every hour or so, telling us that our baby was still well.

"He's just being stubborn," I said with a weak laugh, then winced as Aldia squeezed the life out of my hand. "Just like his papa."

"You... you mean 'her,' don't you?" asked Aldia. "It's got to be a girl."

"Of course I meant 'her,' dear." I kissed her sweaty cheek. "Slip of the tongue."

Hours passed. I nodded off for awhile, but was awoken when Aldia gave my hand a bone-crushing squeeze. I jerked up and looked at her, seeing the pain on her face. The fear that creased her brow and dulled her eyes.

"What is it?" I asked, stroking my thumb along her knuckles. "Is it time?"

Aldia and Istalri nodded.

As much as I wanted to panic, I told myself to keep calm. I pressed my forehead to my wife's as Istalri positioned herself at the foot of the bed, pushing Aldia's skirts up past her knees. I closed my eyes and prayed to Akatosh to bring my wife and child through this safely. I prayed that he would ease her pain and grant her strength.

It was torturous to watch my wife go through such agony, but I reminded myself that what she was feeling was far worse, and if she could make it through this, then I could be strong. I had to be, for her. She needed me to be strong.

After nearly two days of waiting, pain, and anticipation, it was all over. Istalri cried, "She's here!" and Aldia and I both let out a gasp of relief.

But the silence that followed was disconcerting.

Aldia gripped my forearm, weakly sitting up. "Tolvar... something's wrong."

I looked to Istalri, gut twisting. "What is it?"

The midwife stared at the baby in her arms, brow knitted. "I've never seen a newborn so quiet." She pursed her lips, then gave our little girl a pinch on the arm.

Like a dam breaking, the little one let out a wail that seemed impossibly loud for something so small. She thrashed in Istalri's arms, tiny fists waving and legs kicking.

My legs grew weak at the sound. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever heard. "Do you hear that, Aldia? Listen to that voice!"

Aldia smiled, tears running down her face. "We have a little girl. A baby girl, Tolvar."

Istalri cleaned the baby up, then bundled her in one of Aldia's knitted blankets. Gently, she handed my daughter to me, then helped Aldia get cleaned up. Once she was finished with that, she stood and left the room.

I smiled at the pink face looking up at me. After her initial cry, she had calmed down, and now was taking in as much as she could. Her bright blue eyes were wide and curious, little nose scrunching as she stretched one fist over her head.

"She's so beautiful, Aldia," I whispered, leaning over so my wife could see. "Don't you think?"

Aldia reached up and let our baby wrap her tiny hand around her finger. "Absolutely. She's the most beautiful thing in the world." Carefully, she leaned up and gave her a kiss on the top of her head. "You are worth all that trouble after all."

Footsteps thundered up the loft stairs, and moments later, Raldr appeared. "The midwife told me it's a girl." He gave a crooked smile. "What's her name?"

I looked at Aldia. "You want to tell him?"

She shook her head, still allowing our baby to hold her finger. "You tell him."

"All right, then." I paused to look down at the baby in my arms, at the face of my daughter. She had closed her eyes, but her hand was still tight around Aldia's finger. "Raldr, meet Ylva."

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I have been working on this for far too long. I started it months ago, got about halfway through it, then lost motivation and pushed it aside. I'm so glad I didn't just scrap the idea, even though I thought about it once or twice. Hope you all enjoyed it! I've got another story almost done, and I'll try to get it posted this weekend, as well.

Until the next adventure! Love and sweetrolls!
~WG 💙