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“A baby?” Theo paused, “and he’s leaving?”
Bronwyn nodded, feeling chastised. She wanted to push back against the slight toward Arondir – Theo had not even looked in his direction when referencing him. She settled on extending grace.
“Not for a while yet, though.”
“And you’ll go with him?”
“I… am not sure.” This was not entirely true. She had all but decided to make the journey along with him, and had intended to ask Theo if he would keep the farm while they were gone. It might be too much though. He was not a man, yet. She’d thought the asking would make him feel good, but now she wasn’t sure.
“A baby, now?” He asked again, exasperated.
“We didn’t plan for it-” Bronwyn tried, but Theo huffed and pushed his chair back to stand. He stalked out of the house without another word.
Arondir moved as though to follow him, but Bronwyn placed a hand on his arm and he stopped to look down. She shook her head gently.
“Give him some time.” She said. She hoped time alone would be enough.
It was not until the sun sank behind the horizon that the first pangs of fear began to squeeze her heart. Her hands slowed their stitching, then she stopped sewing altogether, watching the light slowly fade from the window. Would he return tonight? She didn’t know if she’d rather he stayed out than travel through the dark to the safety of home. He’d be somewhere safe, wouldn’t he? Staying with his friend in the village, perhaps.
Flashes of fire, fear, desperation surrounded her. It was everywhere and she couldn’t escape. Orcs were coming, and she held her breath, willed herself not to move. She was suddenly choking on smoke and stood, gasping for breath.
“Bron?” Arondir stood as well, rushing to her side. “Are you… is it…?”
She waved her hand and tried to say not to worry, it isn’t the baby, but the words wouldn’t come. She rushed to the door and opened it. The fog in her brain dissipated as she looked out over the quiet farm and further, the village, the world around them settling into a cool autumn night.
No fires lit the horizon, nor sounds of battle broke the silence. The urge to rush out and bang on the door of every home in the village was overwhelming, but instead she stood. Breathed. In…out.
Arondir came up behind her, placing his arm around her waist and standing so close she could rest on his chest. So many thoughts ran through her mind, questions, hopes, emotions she didn’t quite know how to put into words. Instead, they just stood, looking out into the peaceful night.
“He’ll be all right.” Bronwyn finally said, speaking it as a statement, but really meaning it as a question.
“Yes.” Arondir’s voice rumbled in her ear.
She nodded, finally believing it for the first time. He would be a man soon. Too soon. He’s not ready to be on his own yet! He’s learning, growing in independence. She told herself, around and around. She was not ready.
In the morning, Oyna came to see Bronwyn, bearing two baskets - one full of eggs and news of Theo. The woman was not much older than Bronwyn herself, with three sons and a daughter, the youngest just about Theo’s age. She was brown and stout, with long, long black hair that Bronwyn had seen untwisted only once. It had gleamed in the firelight, shiny as a river stone and looked soft as pup’s ear. Now, as always, it was twisted into an intricate knot and held in place with carved sticks.
“He showed up yesterday afternoon, asked to stay the night see’n as how he and Yaban were planning an early start for sparring practice.” She shrugged, handing Bronwyn the basket.
See, he was somewhere safe. She told herself, inwardly sighing of relief.
“Now, about that lavender.”
Bronwyn barely contained her involuntary reaction to even the thought of lavender. Her stomach turned and she felt her face slipping into a grimace, then quickly corrected it with a smile.
“Certainly!” She stepped away taking the few minutes of walking ahead to regain her composure. “I have far more than enough.” She waved a hand at the vast sea of lavender in the garden, trying not to stand too close.
The other woman knelt and began to cut the stalks, placing each gently into a basket. Bronwyn felt bad that she wasn’t helping, yet could not bring herself to get any closer to the plants. Oyna glanced at her for a moment, perhaps appraising her condition, but did not mention it. She spoke of the weather, predicting rain within the week, her family, her intended uses for the lavender she gathered.
Bronwyn enjoyed the conversation, Oyna was a good friend and a valuable addition to their community of survivors. She cared for Theo like her own son.
“He may stay longer.” Bronwyn blurted as the conversation lulled. “Theo.”
Oyna turned, raising her eyebrows.
“Arondir has an elf council to attend within two months and will be gone… a while. Theo was upset.”
Oyna stood, her basket full, nodding. She understood children growing into adulthood.
“And…” Bronwyn trailed off, letting her hand rest at the top of her belly, giving the other woman a knowing look. Her eyebrows raised further, then a smile lit her face. “When?” she asks.
Bronwyn felt her face pull into a soft smile.
“Spring.”
Oyna reached a hand out and squeezed Bronwyn’s wrist. “Well, we’ll take care of you through the winter. I pray it won’t be as long as last.”
Bronwyn nodded, wanting no redos of last winter. We’re already heading there, she thought, looking out over the fields to where she could just make out Theo sparring with another one of the young men.
She was indescribably proud of him, of the man he was becoming, of the great independence and strength he was developing. But in this moment, she wanted nothing more than to draw him into her arms and to hug him with a force that would tell him she loved him more than anything in the world and couldn’t bear to have anger hanging between them.