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Her newest child was premature, so much so that the little boy risked entering the Halls of Mandos even with the best medicinal care Elrond and his team of very experienced healers from Imladris could give.
“Little one….my little boy…”
Maedhros could not take away her eyes from the small body that fit into her cupped hands, trying so hard to not start trembling in her whole body at seeing how small and fragile he was, as she held the baby against her bare skin. Her ears catching the faint sounds of breathing as the only proof that he was still alive for now.
“I am sorry…I am sorry…I am sorry that I could not prevent you from entering the world this early!” she whispered, tears falling from her eyes to land around the carefully wrapped little albino with the barely opened eyes, revealing the same stunning green eyes as Rog.
“Nelyo, it is not your fault,” Nerdanel said gently as she pulled up the blankets closer around her daughter, “the blame lays on the person who used the dried yew to poison you though those cookies.”
“I know…but my memories are overruling my common sense…I am scared of losing another family member and being unable to do anything to prevent it!”
She did not need to mention what memories. The believed loss of Rûsa as a newborn in Angband, the horrors following the broken Siege of Angband and the difficult years after the Battle of Unnumbered Tears…
“Nelyo, you should be resting!” Rog said in alarm from the door at seeing his wife sitting up, and not looking too well, he had left Cúwen in the care of Fëanor over the night, while his own parents tried to keep Rûsa from focusing too much on what was happening in the house of healing for the city of Formenos.
“I can not sleep…”
Maedhros had dark rings under her eyes as a sign of exhaustion, a sight Maglor would be uncomfortable familiar with from how she had suffered from nightmares after losing so many relatives, and she had missed to drink the cup of calming tea Elrond had prepared earlier.
“Here, try the tea again,” Rog offered, understanding her hesitation to let go of their son.
“I…”
“Your Atar built that special crib to keep your son warm by how we can place heated stones in the blankets. It is almost the same thing he did when Ambarussa was born and everyone worried about how small they were, because twins are rare among us Elves. Your little one will not die from being cold if you let him sleep there,” Nerdanel reminded her daughter, holding the baby as Maedhros drank the tea while Rog placed the special crib next to her bed, and soon the new mother of three did fall asleep.
“Maybe she could be more at ease, if we could give him a proper name. But it is so hard to tell what would be a good one…” Rog admitted to his mother-in-law, keeping his eyes on the tiny little form in the nest of blankets.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
Maedhros was used to finding herself in dreams based on her memories, during sleep.
“Where…oh, Amon Ereb.”
Outside the dream version of the fortress, was a massive camp not found there later in the First Age.
“Those yurts…Bór!”
Then, she found herself pulled by an invisible face into the camp, where everyday life was going on. She even saw some faces of her still loyal soldiers as they were helping the Easterlings with some tasks or something else.
“Bór…where is he?! Surely this can not be a memory of when he was out hunting with his sons or something!”
Maedhros ran over to the yurt belonging to the chieftain, and did indeed see him standing outside.
“Ah, my lady,” he said in that characteristic accent of his people when they spoke Sindarin, upon seeing her, “did you hear that my oldest son suddenly bolted off in a panic, and wanted to see why he reacted so?”
Oh. Oh. Now Maedhros remembered what memory this was, as the wife of Bór suddenly called him inside the yurt, where one of their three daughter-in-laws was surrounded by the midwives, Borlach holding his wife in his arms and casting nervous glares between her, and towards his mother.
“The child entered the world earlier than expected, we can not say if she will live,” Börte explained, handing her husband a small bundle wrapped in a soft blanket.
“Then we shall do as was done at my own birth; we will give our grandchild the name Yue after the moon as a prayer for strength like the full moon.”
The full moon…
Maedhros recalled seeing it, as she had been carried by Rog to the house of healing and as she laboured to bring her third child out from her body.
Yue was the gender-neutral name for premature babies among the people of Bór, meant as a way to give them an identity beyond being a child that could die as an infant. Those Easterlings believed that if a child was not named as quickly as possible after birth, even if it was just a temporary name that could be replaced later, the child would not be remembered properly by the family members and become lost after death. It was a custom to avoid a nameless soul becoming a ghost that could haunt their birth family and bring them back luck as revenge for not being named.
Bór himself was a such premature baby who had survived, as had his granddaughter in this memory, later named Khulan.
“My lady.”
Suddenly, the memory image of Bór addressed her, holding his grandchild in his arms.
“A small body like this, can hold a spirit that is burning stronger than it seems. Encourage the little one to not give up. A name can be a way to keep them alive in this difficult world.”
“Bór….oh?!”
The dream memory was collapsing around her, because of a faint cry in her mind. Her baby, born mute as one of the damages from the yew poison, was trying to connect with her though ósanwë.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
Maedhros awoke from her sleep with a sharp gasp.
“Y…Yuë!”
Turning herself around under the blankets to the best of her ability, she managed to open the glass part of the special crib and lift him out. By now, she had been free from the yew poison in her body, and it was safe trying to make her son nurse her own milk instead of asking another mother, who had also given birth, help by temporarily being a wetnurse for the little prince by sharing her milk.
“I know what to call you as your mother-name now, my sweet little one. You shall be named Yuë after the full moon, in the tradition of the people led by one of the Mannish heroes of the First Age, one who did not hail among the Three Houses of the Edain but still remembered by those who were there to witness how he and his three sons Borlad, Borlach, and Borthand did not fall for the false promises of Morgoth, and instead remained loyal to Maglor and myself to the cost of their lives. The Easterling Yue who grew up to become known as Bór the Faithful in the history of the First Age.”
She was rewarded with her son opening his green eyes fully for the first time, as if confirming the people of Bór's belief that an even temporary name would help a baby become more anchored to the living world. And as she dozed off to sleep again, this time with Yuë asleep against her chest for the physical contact between a mother and her baby, Maedhros could have sworn that she saw a phantom hand tenderly touch the little head…
“I am honored to be the name-sake of a child of yours, my lady. And you, little one, prove the enemies of your lady mother wrong by surviving being born this early and becoming strong in your own way, alright?”
The green eyes of little Yuë watched the Mannish spirit of Bór as he vanished like fine morning mist in the light of dawn.