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Greenleaf & Imladris 30 - Finale: Just Reward	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 4743 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Second Act: Beleaguered Begetters

Tirion, Cermië

“Have you given thought to whether you are carrying a maid-child or a male, Legolas?”

Gimli’s idly asked question had the power to abash the woodland archer. Legolas waited for the burning in his cheeks to subside before replying. He scowled in disgust. He seemed to do naught but that nowadays if ever a reference was made to his interesting condition.

“Nay, I have not,” he admitted. “‘Tis all I can do to keep my wits around me just carrying this child without wondering if I will have a son or daughter.”

“Or both,” Gimli mused. At Legolas’ dismayed expression, the Dwarf mildly pointed out: “Considering the history of Elrohir’s family, the chances of you having twins is not an impossibility but in fact a probability.”

“Eru forbid!” Legolas groaned even as he shuddered at the thought. “I cannot even imagine bringing forth one child, let alone two. Elbereth have pity on me!”

A contrite Gimli patted his friend’s arm comfortingly. It was not good to discomfit the Elf-prince any more than he was already.

The two were walking about the fountain-bedecked gardens behind Finarfin’s halls in Tirion. Legolas and Elrohir had gone to Artirion for a fortnight that Elrond might see for himself how archer and anticipated grandchild were doing. Elladan and Nimeithel had come along, glad to rejoin their sons for a spell.

This morn, Elrohir and Elladan had accompanied their mother Celebrían when she went to pay a call on the Noldor’s king, her grandsire. They had persuaded Legolas to join them, as well as Gimli who had come by Elrond’s halls for a visit.

Legolas had been less than cheerful during the journey to Artirion and this short trip to the city for he had been forced to ride with Elrohir. Since a month ago, the warrior had adamantly refused to let him ride his spirited mount and, to the prince’s dismay, every healer, including Elrond himself, had seconded the Elf-knight. Elven women in the middle and last months of their pregnancies were not permitted to ride alone either. The distracting presence of a growing child within could weaken the rapport of a rider with her mount and that could lead to an accident. Legolas had unhappily acquiesced but made it quite clear to all that this latest hindrance was not at all to his liking.

He had, however, overcome his earlier discomfort about going about in public. Met only with warmth and concern for his well being, he had been greatly heartened and he soon realized his fears of ridicule to be unfounded. Thus, his willingness to leave the shelter of Taur Galen or Artirion on occasion.

As he strolled with Gimli, he attracted a fair amount of attention from the various retainers, warriors and courtiers and ladies-in-waiting who made their way to and fro across the lush gardens. He was now compelled to don loose robes or tunics, not only to conceal the obvious evidence of his condition but also to allow for comfort and ease of movement. But he still moved with the disciplined grace of a warrior, born and raised. His limbs remained lean and limber and his countenance elegant and passing fair.

If anything, his features had become ever more comely. His fair tresses seemed even more silken than before. And as the sickness of the previous months thankfully dissipated, his pallor decreased and color came back to his sculpted cheeks.

But his temper had not improved very much. How could it when he stayed largely unreconciled to the oddity of his situation? He did try to rein in his mercurial moods but it was difficult at best and every now and then Elrohir would be seen to take refuge in his brother’s apartments until he deemed it safe to return to his home or the archer repentantly sent for him, whichever came first.

Trips to the healing halls were marked by mutinous scowls and exasperated outbursts. He detested the prodding and questioning that came with each visit. Only Elrond could elicit adequate cooperation from him, aided no doubt by his position as law-father and imminent grandsire.

In all these, he was readily pardoned. No one could blame the hapless archer for being irritable. Not only did he have to deal with the very unlikeliness of his situation but also with the unknown and therefore terrifying changes in his body. It was enough to drive anyone to distraction.

Presently, he sauntered alongside Gimli, patiently awaiting the end of the twins’ and his law-mother’s call on their kin. As sometimes happened, he had of a sudden felt beset by stuffiness even within Finarfin’s airy halls. And so he had been duly and solicitously ushered to the breezy garden with Gimli offering to keep him company.

He was dipping a slender hand into the cool waters of a fountain when he became aware of the perusal of others. Glancing about, he noticed a good many Elves watching him, some surreptitiously, others more openly.

The females were eyeing him with admiration and empathy. They knew what he was going through and understood his apprehensions. And, of course, some of those who were mated to fellow members of the fairer sex could not help but regard him with some envy. They were glad for him that he would know the love of a child for its parent but were also wistful that such a fate was not theirs.

Granted, there were a few isolated cases of ellith, or Elf-maids, carelessly getting with child though they had no intention of wedding the sires of their babes. Childless Edhil had been known to adopt the offspring of such ill-advised couplings or, if the mother or father eventually chose to bind to one of their own kind, raise the child with her or his chosen mate. But these cases were few and far in between. For the majority of same kind couples, children were not an option. Fortunately as well, most Elves who embarked on such espousals were not strongly inclined towards parenthood either and thus by and large were spared the melancholy of unfulfilled parenthood.

It was then that Legolas noted that while the majority of the ellyn—male Elves—present shared the women’s sentiments, such was not the case with the rest. He felt his cheeks burn anew. Their gazes were patently salacious. The manner in which they raked his form with their eyes told the tale. With belated insight and shock, he realized his allure lay not only in his comeliness – of which there was still much in abundance despite his ungainly form – but also in the ability bestowed upon him to carry a child. They were imagining what it would be like to bed him and bring him to childbed.

Legolas gritted his teeth in ire. His fists clenched. By Elbereth, were it not for his awkward situation, he would not hesitate to show these impudent knaves the perils of treating him thusly! He was a seasoned soldier and a prince of his people, not some fragile blossom ripe for anyone’s picking. He must have moved threateningly for Gimli suddenly clamped a restraining hand on his arm.

“Pay them no mind, Legolas,” the Dwarf counseled. “They are little more than dolts and can do you no harm.”

Legolas pursed his mouth angrily. But then he suddenly relaxed and a wicked gleam lit his blue eyes.

“Aye, that they cannot,” he agreed with a smirk. “But they had best watch their backs lest harm comes upon them!”

Even as he spoke, the leering Elves suddenly scattered in fright like chaff before a strong wind. The storm came in the form of a blackly glaring Elf-knight who had suddenly emerged from Finarfin’s halls and now strode rapidly towards his spouse.

Elves flew before him in hasty retreat, lowering their guilty eyes ere he should mark them for later accounting. None cared to have his ardor summarily quelled in the king’s fountains. Or worse.

Gimli guffawed at the sight. “Had you told me back in Middle-earth how entertaining your kindred’s antics could be, I would have called you daft,” he chortled. “They do not look all that dignified now, do they.”

“We are not all of a piece,” Elrohir said as he came up to them. “Even the Eldar were not spared their share of fools.”

He curled an arm around Legolas’ waist. “‘Tis fortunate I espied your plight from my foresire’s windows. Come, melethron”—lover—“I would not have you or the babe come to harm.” At the kindling indignation in Legolas’ eyes, he soothingly added: “You are more than capable of laying a whole band of orcs low by yourself, Calenlass. But you will only enrage yourself should some idiot dare to sully you anew with his lecherous regard. That will do neither you nor our child any good.”

Legolas sighed and nodded, indignation abating. As they walked back to the great halls, he muttered, “I wish I could be done with this soonest! Why in Arda does it have to take so long?”

Gimli snickered suddenly. “Aye, that is exactly why women say what they do about their men-folk,” he said.

“What do they say?” Elrohir asked curiously.

“That Eru did not see fit to afflict men with the birthing of children because they have not the patience to await the completion of a babe!”

********

Elrohir awakened that night to find his mate sitting up in bed gazing into the dark. Alarmed, he sat up as well and looked at Legolas worriedly.

“Calenlass, are you all right?” he queried.

“Aye, I am well,” the archer said. “But I cannot sleep.”

“Why not? What is wrong?”

Embarrassed sapphire eyes turned to him. “I am hungry.”

Elrohir stared at him. “But you had a whole roast pheasant to yourself for dinner not to mention more than your share of bread and fruit!” he softly exclaimed.

When Legolas looked even more shamed, he repented instantly and said more gently: “Forgive me, you are eating for the babe as well. Very well, what would you like me to fetch you?”

Now the prince’s cheeks turned crimson. “Um, one of Bilbo’s blueberry pies?”

Silence met this request. At length, Elrohir spoke. “Legolas, ‘tis the middle of the night,” the twin said in measured tones. “Surely you do not desire for me to go to Bilbo and rouse him from bed just to bake you a pie.”

Legolas bit his lip and shook his head. With a sigh, he lay down once more and turned over. But not quickly enough to hide his distress. Elrohir stared at him then sighed in turn. Knowing his spouse’s recent disposition, he would not be able to sleep a wink until he had satisfied this craving of his. And if Legolas could not sleep, neither would he.

As he continued to gaze at his restless prince, his eyes softened with affection. At least, he comforted himself, the foods Legolas craved were never anything as bizarre as some of the yearnings he’d heard of from other suffering husbands in the past. And truth be told, the prince oft hid his predilections from his darkling mate, detesting as he did the prospect of becoming a walking cliché. Therefore in this Legolas had not troubled him overmuch.

Resolved, he threw off the covers and slipped out of bed. Legolas turned over with a frown. He stared as his mate drew on breeches and a shirt.

“Where are you going?” he asked anxiously.

“To get Bilbo to bake you a pie,” Elrohir replied matter-of-factly. And then he was gone before Legolas could protest.

In later years, it would be fodder for a good hobbit yarn, but tonight, Bilbo could not find the wherewithal to smile. Not when he was awakened from pleasant dreams and cajoled into the kitchen for the most improbable of chores. At midnight!

He groaned and moaned and muttered his displeasure as he labored under the watchful eye of Elrohir. Behind him, a sleepy but amused Frodo kept an eye on the wood-fired oven, waiting for it to reach the right temperature. And in a corner of the cozy kitchen, Gimli dozed in a chair after having helped stoke the oven.

Still grumbling under his breath, Bilbo rolled the dough then lifted it with the rolling pin and flipped it into the waiting pie plate. He pricked the bottom a tad fiercely as he awaited the filling.

A moment later, Sam came up to him and helpfully if yawningly said, “Here you are, Mr. Bilbo.” And he dumped the prepared blueberries into the crust. He hastily retreated before the baleful glare of the elder hobbit.

Frodo chuckled and said consolingly, “Think of this as a service to Legolas. He was one of the Fellowship after all.”

“Well, I was not!” Bilbo retorted as he slashed vents into the top crust with more force than necessary. “Confounded Elves! I should have settled on Tol Eressëa. You’d need a boat to get to me before hauling me out of bed at this unholy hour!”

He shoved the pie into the oven then strode over to the chair opposite Gimli and plopped himself down to wait. “I should never have let anyone taste my pies!” he added with a scowl at his now laughing nephew and a grinning Sam. “Especially finicky Elves who ought to have more sense than to get with child!”

A hand on his shoulder bade him look up. Into Elrohir’s warm and grateful argent eyes.

“Thank you, dear Bilbo,” he softly said. “Legolas will be very pleased.”

Bilbo melted. The thought of the steadfast Elf-knight venturing into the dark to assuage his mate’s yearning promptly deflated his umbrage. How could one stay in a pique before such great-heartedness not to mention inimitable charm?

“Don’t mind me,” he mumbled, cheeks reddening before the Elf-lord’s admiring regard. “I’m just an old grouch.”

An hour later, Legolas raised shining eyes to his darkling spouse. They sat at the long table in the kitchen of Elrond’s house. Before them lay the almost empty pie plate. Elrohir could not quite believe his eyes. Never had he seen the prince so ravenous in all the years he had known him.

“Are you certain you aren’t eating for three?” he asked suspiciously.

Legolas shrugged. “I haven’t the faintest idea,” he said. “And neither does Ada Elrond.”

Elrohir shook his head. “You would think that, after the surfeit of twins my family has produced, we would have learned to tell if a pair was in the offing by now.” He gazed at his beaming mate. “I trust you are satisfied?”

“Very,” Legolas smiled. He suddenly yawned. “And sleepy.” He regarded Elrohir with utmost gratitude and love. “Thank you, Aduial.”

Elrohir sighed with relief. “You’re very welcome. But do promise me something, melethen.”—my love.

“What?”

“That you will not get sick from this indulgence. Bilbo will never forgive us if he learns his pie didn’t stay put in your stomach!”

**************

Glossary:

Cermië - Quenya for July

Edhil - Elves

Calenlass - Greenleaf (Elrohir’s pet name for Legolas)

Ada - Papa

Aduial - Twilight (Legolas’ pet name for Elrohir)

To be continued…
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Greenleaf & Imladris 30 - Finale: Just Reward