"He shall be of no help to you, dear," Ninaleth, the midwife, had warned her. "Men never are in such matters!"

To which Gilraen had replied, "I care not what help or hindrance he might be, I would have my husband see our child at least once…in case…" Such was the fear that haunted her, sharpened by urgency as the days rolled slowly by. Confinement to this one room, also, did not help her temper, for she felt as a trapped animal and could not quite understand why she might not move about the house. For although she understood the concern of her keepers, she had not been troubled again by the mysterious pangs that had forced her to take to her bed. But Ninaleth and her mother, Ivorwen, had prevailed against her wishes. And in truth, who am I to dispute their judgment, who have never borne children before? Nevertheless, the greater part of her heart rebelled against her sentence, wishing vainly for the freedom of the tree-clad plains and hills.

Just then, the door opened and Ninaleth peered in, wearing a puzzled smile as she entered. "Awake again! And yet you seem to me weary. You should sleep longer," she said gently.

"I know not why, but I cannot rest," Gilraen replied, shaking her head. "Would that the waiting would end!"

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