Unexpected Joy

Author’s Notes: Hope you all enjoy…

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The bathhouse was pleasantly warm, and a scented steam filled the air. Sam watched as Elrond walked purposefully to a large tub, simply dropping his robes to the floor and gracefully stepping into the water. Sam glanced at his master, noting how the blue eyes followed the elf until he relaxed deeply into the water.

"Well, Mr. Frodo, best get in. 'Twill do you good, methinks." Sam stated reasonably, as he removed his weskit.

"Hmm? Oh! Yes, I think it might." Frodo distractedly began unbuttoning his shirt. His hand then brushed over the sticky mess left on his stomach from the previous night, and he glanced at Sam.
Frodo bit his lip. He knew the younger hobbit would recognize the mess for what it was. He quickly redid the button he'd just undone and exchanged a meaningful glance at Elrond.

"Master Gamgee, I wonder if you would be so kind as to tell me of last night's celebration?" Elrond asked, attempting to divert Sam's attention.

"Of course, my lord!" Sam replied; taking the distraction and launching into a detailed account of exactly what everyone had done until he, himself, had left the celebrations in search of Frodo.

Frodo quickly undressed and slid into the water while Sam was busy explaining the previous night's events to a rather bored looking Elrond. Frodo discreetly rubbed his hand over his stomach, under the water before resting back with a sigh. He looked at Sam and could already tell it was going to be a long few weeks before their departure for home.

~*~

The elven envoy, along with the hobbits, agreed to stay in Minas Tirith, to aid in rebuilding the city to its original beauty. Days were spent moving rock, replanting gardens and courtyards, and bracing damaged buildings until repairs could be scheduled.

Frodo helped as much as he could, though he found that the injuries he sustained while on the quest stopped him from doing most things. He took to providing relief to the other workers, along with Sam's help. Together they would bring water or bread to the weary workers, whenever Sam was not helping to replant the gardens.

It had been six weeks since the night of the royal wedding. At times when he wasn't so busy, Frodo would find himself glancing at Lord Elrond in concern. The elven lord seemed pale and weary. He kept to himself more than usual and often did not leave his rooms until after the noon meal.
Frodo wondered if he should talk to Elrond, for it seemed the elf was avoiding him. Questions ran through his mind: had it been a mistake? Did Elrond regret it? Was it wrong? Was Elrond mad at him?

He gazed across the courtyard to the kitchen gardens, to where the elf lord was working. His hair was pulled back into a single braid, falling like a thick rope of dark silk down his back. He wore no knots in his hair, and a simple tunic and leggings. If you hadn't known already, there was no way of knowing he was the Lord of Rivendell. This day, he was only an elf helping to rebuild the white city.

Frodo stood, watching Elrond. He was still concerned about the elf. He knew that elves didn't fall ill, but Elrond seemed to be so. Frodo watched as the elf lord paled visibly. Elrond stood shakily and glanced at the kitchen windows where several pies had been set to cool. His hand rose quickly and covered his mouth, while he stood for a moment with eyes closed. Another pie was set on the windowsill, which caused Elrond to bolt. The peredhil dashed through the courtyard as fast as he could.

Feeling his stomach twisting in agony, Elrond found the nearest alcove that he could, and doubled over. The very air seemed to close in around him, the neck of his tunic suddenly seeming too tight. Taking deep breaths, he pressed his brow against the cool stone wall and tried in vain to will the nausea to leave him. Losing the battle, the elf lord doubled over and emptied the meager contents of his stomach on the rough cobblestones.

Concerned, Frodo followed Elrond after watching him flee the courtyard. He couldn't explain why he was so worried about the peredhil, but there was a strong urge to see that Elrond was all right. As he rounded a corner, Frodo heard the telltale sound of someone retching in the corner.

The soft pad of hobbit feet approached and Elrond attempted to straighten himself. It was unbecoming of an elf lord to be found sicking up in a corner. Hastily he wiped the sweat from his brow and straightened his tunic. He swallowed hard against the next wave of nausea, as he awaited the inevitable questions.

"L- Elrond? Are you ill?" Frodo's voice was soft and full of concern.

The hobbit looked up into Elrond's face and watched as the elf slowly paled once more. Elrond opened his mouth to speak, only to snap it shut. His jaw clenched and his arms wrapped around his middle as a sickly green flushed over his face.

A moment passed as once again Lord Elrond attempted to fight the nausea overwhelming him. In the end, however, he lost the battle. Much to his dismay, Elrond turned his back to Frodo, sank to his knees, and began vomiting once more.

Without thought, Frodo moved to the elf's side and placed a delicate, scholarly hand upon Elrond's trembling back. Frodo rubbed gentle, soothing circles upon the broad back at his side. Unconsciously, he began to sing softly to Elrond.

The elf lord closed his eyes and breathed slowly. The soft Shire melody soothing him as never before. Elrond crossed his arms upon the wall before him, and gently rested his brow upon his arms. A cool breeze blew gently over the pair, and an image flashedore ore Elrond's eyes...


A small elfling ran with others through the courtyard of The Last Homely House. His long dark curls flew wildly behind him as he ran barefoot across the rough stones. The other elflings ran ahead, as the smaller boy paused and turned around. Large blue eyes shone brightly in his round, chubby face. The child broke into a brilliant smile, and mouthed the word 'Ada' before turning on his slightly large, hairy feet and running off again...


Elrond's eyes snapped open in realization as he sat back on his heels at last. His right hand slid down to rest gently over his still-flat abdomen, as he gazed at the concerned looking hobbit beside him. His healer sense then ran over his symptoms of the past few days. The sleepiness, and nausea, the aches, and irritability. There was no question left in his mind.

'Ai, Valar!' Elrond thought, looking into the blue eyes of Frodo Baggins. 'I am with child. Your child.'

Frodo watched in fear as the elf groaned, and his eyes rolled back into his head as he crumpled to the floor.