|
|
Summary: It is Yule and Gondor’s Prince-consort Legolas is unhappy as he is convinced that his husband King Aragorn cares nothing for him except for the child growing inside of him. Will Legolas and Aragorn find happiness together or will tragedy strike tearing their lives apart.
Author's Note: The AU world of this fic is as follows: The One Ring and Sauron were destroyed during the Last Alliance and the High King Arathorn II was the leader of the United Kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor when he died tragically. Aragorn is his sole heir and Finduilas (Faramir/Boromir’s mother) was Arathorn’s sister (minor back-story which explains Denethor as Aragorn’s uncle). Aragorn and Legolas are distant cousins (which will be explained in the tale and some extra explanations are in the Glossary) through Thingol’s line. Also, Arwen is Gilraen’s mother which makes her Aragorn’s grandmother (don’t laugh) and Lord Elrond his great-grandfather. I truly apologize for the lateness of this and hope the recipient enjoys it. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!
* * *
Prologue
King Thranduil moved swiftly towards the Houses of Healing; he was preceded by two of his personal guards who cleared his path of curious and concerned wood-elves—none who were unaccustomed to seeing their ruler so agitated (unless there was threat of war which hadn’t occurred for centuries).
What many did not know was that the King had just received word that his youngest son, the elfling Prince Legolas, had been injured on the practice fields and had been taken to the head healer, Lenwë.
“Make way for your Monarch! Make way!” The guards said firmly.
Thranduil tried to keep his panic down as his destination came within sight where his child lay injured and bleeding—he could not bear the thought! He loved all his sons, but Legolas was special. As the doors were thrown open, the Elven-king pushed forward, and confronted the first elf in his path.
“Where is my son?!” The young ellon started and instinctively backed away from the imposing figure.
“Your—Your Majesty! I...I...He is with Lenwë...” The elf’s finger nervously pointed towards a closed door just off the ward that lead to private rooms reserved for only the most severely injured; but it was also used to treat persons of rank which included the Royal Family. The King knew this, but he could only think that Legolas was so injured to be at death’s door. The Sindarin King turned, but before he could reach for the handle, it opened to reveal the healer Lenwë who smiled benevolently and reassuringly to his leader.
“Aran-nin—please come with me.”
“Where is the Prince? How is he?” Thranduil’s voice was strong and sure, but the practiced ear of the head healer heard the underlying fear that was also reflected in Golden King’s green eyes.
“Prince Legolas is well, Sire.”
“I was told that he was injured and bleeding,” Greenwood’s ruler said.
“He had some bruises and scrapes...”
Is that all?” The joy that lit up the anxious father’s face made the handsome face even more disarming and Lenwë had to shake himself to respond.
“Well—No, Sire...If we could speak privately, I will explain further.” Lenwë was saddened to see his Liege-lord’s smile vanish. “Please follow me.”
“Remain here,” Thranduil said firmly to his guard as he followed the healer through to small room just beyond the previously closed door.
As the entrance to the cramped room was shut, Thranduil said tightly, “Speak!”
“Please sit, Your Majesty...”
“I want you to tell me what has happened to my son!” The King was mere inches from Lenwë who showed remarkable calm. Of course, he had 2600 years experience dealing with distraught friends and loved-ones (even Royal ones), so he did not take the King’s ire personally.
“I highly recommend that you be seated for this, My Liege.” The reassuring smile helped the Sindarin Ruler to calm somewhat and he reluctantly sat down. Lenwë pulled a chair to sit next to him, not wanting to sit behind his desk out of respect for his King.
“Tell me of my child.” Thranduil’s voice was just above a whisper.
“Legolas is well and his minor injuries have already healed except for a large bruise to his shoulder. There was a concern at first that he was severely injured because there was blood on his leggings.”
“Has the bleeding stopped?”
“No, Sire—it has not.” Lenwë risked touching the King without permission; in this situation, he was dealing with a parent and not his King. “Please, let me explain and you will see that he is in no danger.”
Thranduil nodded and waited, his eyes fixed on the gray ones of the Noldorin healer.
Lenwë (who had been an apprentice of Elrond of Rivendell) continued, “When I examined the elfling, I discovered that the bleeding was not due to any injury. Legolas has entered adolescence and his body has begun to change; he is maturing.”
“I knew that he would soon reach this stage, but this should not involve...” The King’s voice trailed off and his beautiful eyes widened as the implication of what the healer was saying sunk in. “Are—Are you saying that Legolas has been granted the Gift of Melian?”
“He has indeed, Your Majesty. He will not only be able to father children, but bear them as well.” Lenwë smiled.
Thranduil was in shock, not sure of how felt about this news. He had known only two other ellyn so capable in his long years. The first ever (whom he had never met) had been Melian, the male Maia with which Thingol (then known as Elwë) fell in love, before falling into a trance. When his trance lifted, Thingol married Melian who was much loved by the Valar. Being so loved, they made it possible for Melian to bear two children after taking human form—Lúthien (a daughter) and Annan (a son) who also could bear children.
Many knew of the tale of Lúthien and her life with Beren the mortal; but few spoke of the tale of Annan which was a rather sad one.
Annan was little more than an elfling when Lúthien fell in love with Beren and he with her. But she was also loved by Daeron a Sindarin elf of Doriath and minstrel to Thingol. He twice betrayed her to her father in hopes of gaining her for himself. But she escaped from her father to follow Beren, marrying him. Daeron followed after, trying to find her. When he could not, he mourned and lamented her loss. Returning to the service of Thingol after many years, he spied Annan whose beauty had grown to rival that of his sister. Daeron’s unrequited lust for Lúthien was then transferred to the Peredhel child Annan; determined to not lose this beauty, he seduced the innocent and carried him off to the East of Middle-earth where Annan bore Daeron several sons.
For many years Thingol tried finding Annan, but the wars of Beleriand kept him distracted and his fascination with the Silmaril eventually cost him his life. When Daeron learned that Lúthien had died, he again mourned her; Annan at first believed that this was because he himself grieved for his sister, but Daeron’s true nature revealed itself and Annan discovered that the elder elf had only been using him as a substitute for Lúthien.
This news only added to his grief that was twice-fold having lost his father earlier. His sons feared that their birth parent would fade, so they devised a plan to take Annan away. They had to be clever about it for they knew that their sire would not allow Annan to leave him as Daeron considered the young elf as his great prize—both rare and beautiful.
Two of their children convinced Daeron to go on a hunting trip; while they were gone, the last two spirited Annan away to Lindon where they begged the aid of the High King Gil-galad to keep Annan hidden until he could sail to Valinor to heal. When Daeron returned home, he discovered Annan had gone and he roared and wailed, vowing to bring him back while ripping apart his spouse’s letter of goodbye. His sons agreed to help their father, but succeeded in keeping him mislead until Annan was safe from Daeron. After years of searching, eventually they returned home and one of his sons informed their sire that Annan and their youngest brother were in the Undying Lands and soon, they too, left their father’s home and never saw him again. It is rumored that he faded from his grief, only belatedly realizing that he truly loved Annan who would never again be his.
Annan’s remaining children returned to Lindon; one married a high-ranking aid to the King but died in childbirth after bearing him a daughter. The other two sons (who were friends to the then Prince Thranduil) died along side Gil-galad and Thranduil’s father King Oropher in the Last Alliance which saw the final defeat of Sauron when the One Ring was destroyed in the Mountain of Fire. Annan’s only offspring still in Middle-earth (his granddaughter Melyanna, so named for her great-grandmother) became the Queen of the newly-crowned King of Greenwood, Thranduil; she bore him several sons including the youngest now sleeping in the Houses of healing. No one knew why, but the ability of males to bear children was passed on only through Annan’s line; and of King Thranduil’s sons (four in all), Legolas is the only one to be granted the Gift of Melian.
“Does he know?” The Elvenking asked of Lenwë who noted that he was in conflict. It could not be an easy thing knowing that your child was unique and would be much desired of many in the world—as had been the case with Melian and later Annan and his sons. When Middle-earth learned about Legolas, there would be suitors from all over—mortal as well as immortal.
“No, Aran-nin; I would not so presume,” Lenwë said gently. “He was asleep when I left him.”
“I will sit with Legolas and explain...everything to him.” And explain he did.
It was difficult for both, but eventually the young Prince was made to understand despite his young age of fifty years. The life of a warrior that his father and brothers lived was not possible for the young Prince. Although he trained and became a skilled fighter, Legolas’ life became one of diplomacy and courtly matters—learning about the laws and lands of Middle-earth in preparation of becoming the Consort of a future or current ally. His future mate did not arrive into his knowledge until centuries later; a distant cousin of the Royal children of Greenwood the Great.
800 years later, Minas Tirith, the Eve of Yule ...
Legolas slowly sat down upon the marble bench in the Royal Arboretum looking out upon the Great Garden. The elf’s movements were graceful despite his advance state of pregnancy. To the people of Minas Tirith the beautiful Royal consort always appeared serene, but only those closest to him would recognize the sadness that was reflected in his lovely blue eyes. He had always known that he would have to marry someone he did not love and who did not love him; but he truly believed that he and his spouse would eventually grow to care for each other.
When he and Prince Aragorn met for the first time nearly three years prior, it was anything but love at first glance; but Legolas could tell that the young Peredhel was attracted to him and that attraction was strongly evident on their wedding night when Aragorn made love to him for the first time. And later as the two spent time together, they would laugh and tease each other and make passionate love. It didn’t take long for Legolas to fall in love with his handsome new husband who was very attentive; and the wood-elf was sure that his feelings were returned. But then the unthinkable happened. One year later, King Arathorn II was killed while out hunting with his Queen’s uncles Elladan and Elrohir—their hunting party attacked by orcs.
The young Prince barely had time to mourn his father when he was suddenly crowned High King of Gondor and Arnor, taking on the duties of running the United Kingdoms. Not long after this, his mother Queen Gilraen faded from her grief, dying in her mother’s (the Lady Arwen) arms. Aragorn changed from carefree Prince to Gondor’s serious and sometimes grim Ruler. Legolas so wanted to help him, but his efforts were often thwarted and when he became pregnant, the King was even more adamant that Legolas stay away from the daily workings of ruling Gondor as there were often many people from all over Middle-earth coming to the White City to treat or the air their concerns and grievances. Aragorn also felt strongly that many came simply to see Legolas whose beauty was unrivaled; the fact that he could bear children made the Elven Prince-consort even more a curiosity and the King knew that some coveted this rare and precious being.
Hearing these words, often made Legolas feel like a possession instead of Aragorn’s husband. He was used to being sheltered and protected by his father; while King Thranduil still thought of Legolas as his elfling, he was Aragorn’s bonded mate and he expected more from the King. Perhaps he expected too much for Aragorn never once said that he loved Legolas. And the angry words he spoke to the elf just moments ago proved more than anything that this was true.
Legolas had been sitting with the King sipping tea after finishing their noon meal when Lord Denethor, the King’s uncle, came to inform Aragorn that the dwarves of Moria were bickering again with the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain and wanted Aragorn to mediate once more. Knowing much about many of the free peoples of Middle-earth and having studied in particular anything that concerned Gondor, Legolas offered to aid Aragorn in this mediation.
“But I know much about the history of the ire between these Dwarf communities; I can be of help, Aragorn.” Legolas offered after the Steward had gone.
“I, too, know of their history, Lassë. And what I don’t know, my uncle will aid me with.” Aragorn said, rubbing his head. He had spent last night and the entire morning dealing with these same dwarves; he was sure that all had come to an amiable agreement, but apparently he was mistaken. With this and this evenings grand celebration looming, Aragorn’s head began to ache.
“But I have discovered that there is some information I’ve studied in my father’s library that is not present in the one here—on many subjects, Aragorn. Perhaps if we compared...”
“Enough! I have a Steward and more councilors than I know what to do with—all with differing opinions and agendas. That last thing I need is another one; even one as lovely to look upon as you are. So, thank you—but no.” Aragorn stood and walked over to the large window, opening it to catch some fresh air (hoping the frigidness would help his throbbing head).
“I am more than a pleasant face, Your Majesty! I have a very capable mind as well; I have spent the last few centuries studying the laws and peoples of Middle-earth. I am well-versed in matters of the Court and diplomacy and although I have three brothers ahead of me in line for my father’s Throne, I am trained to rule if needed.”
“I am sure you are,” Aragorn said tiredly as he turned back to his spouse.
“I am also a skilled warrior.” Legolas was standing now, facing Gondor’s formidable Monarch.
Aragorn laughed at this declaration. “Do you suppose to make war on our Dwarven guests, Lassë?”
“No, of course not. I simply point out to you that I am quite capable in many areas to be of use to you. If you will not let me help you with matters of State, then perhaps you would allow me to help train Gondor’s armies. I could teach the new recruits (or the young nobles who train to be officers) some Elven techniques. I excelled in the long-knives and I am considered the best archer in Greenwood, perhaps Middle-earth as well.”
“And I suppose that you expect me to agree to my pregnant spouse training my soldiers?” Aragorn said to Legolas, his blue-green eyes incredulous.
“I’ll not be pregnant forever,” Legolas rejoined. “Although I feel as though I have been already,” he mumbled, his ankles aching supporting his nearly 11-month belly.
“Regardless of whether or not you are or are not with child, your services as instructor will not be needed. My great-uncles have trained many of Gondor’s soldiers and although they may not have your skill with the bow, they are more than adequate. Besides, you have no real battle experience.”
“But, Aragorn...”
“No, Lassë—you have a role that is aid enough to me; you are a soft place for me to fall. I find comfort in those lovely arms and between those strong thighs of yours. And more importantly, you carry the future of Gondor inside you; that alone is enough of a purpose.”
“Any female could do that for you, Aragorn.” Tears stung the back of Legolas’ eyes, but he refused to cry in front of Aragorn.
“If I had wanted a female, I would have married one long ago. But that is beside the point. You are my spouse and you will play the role I designate! I will hear no more of this.” Aragorn sighed then walked over to where Legolas was standing.
“Why don’t you go visit the Arboretum—I have Dwarves to deal with.” The King kissed the other’s pale forehead before walking away. “Remember to take your guards; I won’t have you wandering about alone again.”
This was said gently, but Legolas knew that Aragorn would brook no argument on this point. The elf had made the mistake of walking unaccompanied to the stables to visit his horse on a couple mornings and when the King learned of it, he had been furious. Legolas liked to think that this was because Aragorn loved him, but he now knew, had known for some time, that it was only the child he bore that concerned Aragorn and for the status Legolas’ uniqueness brought to Gondor.
So here he sat in this lush garden that he helped to enhance with plants from Greenwood, feeling sad and miserable—the flora failing to lighten his troubled heart. He had no way of knowing that most of his assumptions about Aragorn’s motives were incorrect. The King’s over-protectiveness stemmed not from pride or avarice that Legolas’ unique state brought to him, but from his fear of losing another member of his family. While his uncles, grandmother and great-grandfather were alive and well in Rivendell and his great-great-grandparents were as well in Lothlórien, Aragorn had been devastated by the deaths of his father and mother so close upon each other. The thought that he could lose his beloved spouse was more than he could bear and it made him stern and unyielding to the wood-elf.
He wanted to voice all of this to Legolas, but he didn’t know how; and the weight of his rule was oftentimes grueling and he could not afford to appear weak especially with so many greedy people ready to take whatever they could. Aragorn knew that any number of them would risk war with Gondor to possess his Legolas, but he’d be damned ten times over before he’d allow that! However, Legolas knew none of this, so he was most unhappy with his life in the White City.
As a tear finally broke free and slipped down a flawless cheek, the elfling inside of Legolas kicked him hard. For the briefest of moments, the Sinda resented his child, jealous that it had his sire’s unconditional love. Following close behind these emotions came shame and guilt; how could he blame this unborn innocent for Aragorn’s lack of love for his Consort.
“Please forgive me, my sweet one—I did not mean it!” Legolas rubbed his rounded belly as another kick was felt. “Your sire may not care for me, but a part of him—you, my love—will.”
He smiled as the elfling continued to move about inside him. But Legolas soon felt himself yawning and decided to return to the Royal suite for much needed rest. As the Prince-consort combed out his braids, the baby kicked again.
“Are you so eager to meet your ada, little one? I am very eager to make your acquaintance as well.” His husky voice cooed as his bare feet softly padded over to the large four-posted bed, the long, white nightshirt swaying about his shapely ankles.
As he fought another yawn, Legolas settled against a pillow and it wasn’t long before he was in reverie. During times of longing for his husband’s love, the blond often recalled his wedding night when his heart first stirred with love for Aragorn...
[Legolas appeared calm as he stood before his bonded mate—the Gondoran Crowned Prince Aragorn. This skill he learned at his father’s knee from an early age; but the young elf was anything but. Aragorn smiled and Legolas could see the fire smoldering in his blue-green depths.
‘Mmmm...sooo lovely,’ Aragorn sighed as his eyes roamed the wood-elf’s comely form, a thin robe the only covering. ‘So very, very lovely!’
The dark-haired Prince reached out, cupping Legolas’ face between his large hands, startling him before capturing rose-red lips in a passionate kiss. Legolas moaned. He’d never before been so kissed, the Peredhel only having given him chaste kisses on his cheeks or brow and once very briefly upon his lips. But this—this took away the elf’s very breath! All nervousness left him as his mouth was plundered. But it swiftly returned when Legolas found himself swept-up into strong arms being carried to the huge bed they were to share.
The elf’s eyes widened like saucers as his body was bared, his meager robe little resistance to the younger, but more experienced male. Divesting himself of his own robe, Aragorn loomed magnificently naked above the supine Legolas. Tanned fingers seamed suddenly shy as they barely grazed smooth, pale Elven flesh, but then Legolas was soon to realize that his new husband was not shy when it came love-making.
Aragorn groaned. His mouth tasted and nipped at the smooth skin beneath his questing lips, fingering, the taut flesh warm and trembling beneath him; first Legolas’ neck and shoulders, then traveling down to a smoothly muscled chest. The wood-elf’s body arched off the bed as his teeth bit down painfully and pleasurably on an erect nipple, Aragorn holding him close. Pale, slim fingers entwined in the Peredhel’s dark, wavy hair, Legolas pulling that talented mouth closer to his toned chest. As Aragorn traveled from one peak to the other, slender hands grazed the sides of his face, then returned time and again to silky tresses to keep that mouth and tongue where they were.
But Aragorn had other plans, wanting to taste more of his beautiful husband. The dúnadan Prince suckled hard the pebbled nub in his hot mouth one last time, his hands roaming as his passion rose, threatening to spiral out of control before he could claim the prize before him. As he released the peak, giving it one last swipe of his tongue, he moved up to capture perfect rose petal soft lips, parted and gasping. His tongue plunged deeply, forcing its way down the sweet throat; the delicate organ inside welcome the invasion, the more experienced one determined to have its way. Sword-roughened hands carded through long silky tresses of pale gold, pulling the head back to gain further access as his tongue went impossibly deeper, nearly depriving the other of necessary air.
Smaller male hands cupped his face, pushing him slightly away, breathing hard. Denied this reward, the Aragorn moved on and latched his mouth to the fragrant neck beneath the fall of soft hair where the shoulder and neck met. His hands also moved on, caressing smooth, firm sides, down to finely muscled hips and thighs, pushing the limbs apart as he put himself between them, causing the body under him to pause before its trembling began anew.
Aragorn’s strong hands hooked under perfectly formed knees, pushing them back, exposing the tender flesh of his new husband’s inner thighs and vulnerable nether region—nothing hidden from Gondoran’s view. His bearded face rubbed against the delicate skin, cheeks and chin lightly abrading before lips and tongue tasted the virgin flesh. The Peredhel breathed deeply as his mouth nuzzled the elegant organs nestled between unblemished thighs, the pale shaft and hairless sacs a feast before his hungry stare. Prince Aragorn had no trouble swallowing the slender column, firm and leaking. The slender body arched again, this time forcing the tumescence deeper as the warm cavern suckled roughly, drinking the fluid seeping from the inexperienced body, the rough tongue molding itself to the hard flesh as it reached its peak making Legolas scream out his passion.
As the wood-elf began to calm, he could feel the hard length of his husband as Aragorn moved up to gaze into Legolas’ half-lidded eyes. The dúnadan licked his lips as he swallowed the last of the elf’s essence. That look was back and this time the Sindarin Prince did not try and hide his nervousness which mounted as Aragorn took the legs still held firmly in his grasp and forced them further apart, then draped each one over his shoulders. Taking his own swollen flesh in his hand, he rubbed his length with his emissions; parting the pale globes hovering above the bedcovers, he found the puckered entrance. Legolas’ young body froze when one finger pushed inside his tight opening; it retreated to gather more leaking fluids, returning to push in further.
Once it breached the guardian ring of muscle, Aragorn’s digit moved about and Legolas saw the look of wonder on the other’s handsome face as the elf’s secret second entrance was found, the hymen protecting it intact. Legolas wondered if the Gondoran would try and impregnate him this night, but knew that he would not when the finger moved away to explore his anus instead. Reaching to the side of the bed, Aragorn grabbed a small vial of oil, coating three fingers liberally. Legolas once again froze as the forefinger entered him, stretching his channel; it was soon joined by another, preparing him for the Aragorn’s large organ. Fear replaced desire at the unfamiliar probing. Legolas’ frightened voice cried, ‘No!’ as the digits went deeper, scissoring the opening further. Shhh, A’mael; we are now one and I will have you,’ the Crowned Prince said possessively as he gazed into frightened sea-blue eyes. ‘It will be wonderful—you will see!’
He placed the large head of his swollen member to the small opening, and pushed inside. As he went deeper, Legolas’ tight passage contracted in pain, and his hands began pushing against Aragorn’s chest trying to force him out again. Stopping briefly, the Gondoran whispered soothing words of regret before kissing the gasping mouth; the blond could taste his salty tears as well as his spent passion. He began to calm as Aragorn’s hand moved between their bodies, stroking Legolas’ fearful flesh, bringing it to arousal again.
The wood-elf’s body began thrusting in Aragorn’s fist and the kiss deepened, the Peredhel resuming his forward motion, the hot tunnel impossibly tight until he breached the guardian ring of muscle, becoming fully sheathed in the tight heat. A pained whimper echoed in the bedchamber before being followed by a grunt of pleasure as the blond Prince’s tiny bundle of nerves was hit over. Aragorn aimed and struck the spot over and over again, making Legolas rise to meet him thrust for thrust before screaming out, finding his release for the second time.
The smaller frame bucked and writhe in pleasure, his entrance gripping his husband tightly, milking the plunging shaft, undoing the Gondoran until he too reached his climax, hot fluids surrounding him inside the grasping body. They both smiled, satisfied and sated and the Gondoran released the slender, pale thighs from his broad shoulders before burying his nose in Legolas’ silky hair.]
Legolas smiled in Elven dreams, but soon he cried out in agony and he shot up gripping his rounded belly. Fear the likes of which he never knew gripped him. It was too soon! He had several weeks yet before the child was due. He cried out all the louder and soon the door flew open as his Elven guards burst into the room.
“It’s not yet time! Please get the King! I need my husband, now!”
The guards hesitated for the briefest of moments, then the elder sent the younger to fetch Aragorn before running to Legolas’ side. He had been one of the Prince’s personal guards for nearly his entire life. In fact, it had been he who took the young elfling to the Houses of Healing bleeding that faithful day; and he was guarding the child when King Thranduil came to see him. From that day forward, he protected Legolas and came with him to live here in this city of stone.
As another sharp pain assailed the Prince, Amroth the guard took Legolas’ hand into his own. “Please don’t let my child die,” the frightened ellon pleaded. Doing what he did so long ago, Amroth gathered the Prince up and ran with him to the Houses of Healing leaving word with a passing servant for the King when he arrived. It was there that Aragorn found them, Legolas howling in pain as the Dúnedain healers rung their hands in impotence. None of them had any knowledge of male pregnancies; the only living healer with that knowledge (Elrond of Rivendell, the great-grandfather of Gondor’s King) was not due for a fortnight.
Aragorn sat next to Legolas, holding him close. The King was truly frightened; it was like when his mother lay dying of grief and he could do nothing but sit by his mother’s side as she was held by her mother. He himself had learned the healing arts from Elrond, but he had no skill to handle this although he was told what to expect. Elves carried their young for 12 months and Legolas was only 10 months, 2 weeks along. Being a first pregnancy, labor could be long especially for an elf; but that was under normal circumstances with females. But Legolas was no female and these were not normal circumstances.
Fearing the worse, Aragorn sent Legolas’ guards and several other elves in the city (being better riders than any) to go to Rivendell in the hopes that Lord Elrond had already left to come to in Minas Tirith for the birth. As Legolas went in and out of consciousness, Aragorn prayed to the Valar for help for he could not lose his beloved spouse. Then Aragorn kissed his beautiful love, speaking softly to Legolas; as he continued to pray, a warm light surrounded the two. The Healer hovering about saw it, but did to know what to make of it except to think that it had to do with the natural glow of both elves.
The door to his ward opened causing Aragorn to look up, frowning deeply. Lord Denethor stood worriedly just inside. He knew that his nephew did not want to see him just now and he understood why; but he had to come if only in moral support. When they first learned that the Prince-consort was in labor prematurely, the Steward and the royal Councilors pulled Aragorn away to speak with him about the matter. As these situations could deteriorate rapidly, they called upon him to make a decision to save Gondor’s future. When their meaning sunk in, Aragorn did something he never thought he would—he attacked his uncle, grabbing him by the throat and he threatened to execute every member of the Council for suggesting that he allow Legolas to perish. As much as he wanted his unborn child, he loved Legolas more than his own life.
“I will not have you upset Lassë, Uncle,” Aragorn said quietly, but with vehemence.
“I would not dream of it; it hasn’t been so very long since I lost my wife—your aunt, Aragorn. I know how worried you are. What was said before was part of my duty and we needed to know. Please try and understand; if not now, later when this trying time has passed us by.”
“Aragorn, I am sorry,” Legolas whispered hoarsely.
“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, Beloved.”
Legolas knew that he must be in a feverish dream for Aragorn had never called him this. “Promise me to save our child.”
“I will not lose either of you for I love you both very much.” Aragorn felt tears run down his face.
Just then a commotion could be heard as one of the Citadel guards came into the Houses of Healing.
“Uncle, please go see what the matter is.” He said as he pulled Legolas even closer.
He was not gone long and came back inside with a relieved smile on his face. “They are nearly here, Your Majesty; Lord Elrond and a party from Greenwood the Great will be momentarily. The riders had not gotten far when they met them just beyond Osgiliath. The guards upon the Tower spied them from afar.”
“The Valar be praised,” the Senior Healer said.
“Yes, indeed,” said Aragorn kissing Legolas on his pale-gold head and smiling his first true smile in some time. He was relieved, but his fear had not completely abated.
It was only when his family from Rivendell arrived less than an hour later having ridden hard as the news was relayed to them.
Lord Elrond and his daughter Arwen entered the room first to be followed by the Peredhel Twins.
“Great-grandfather—please save them!” These were the first words out of the young King’s mouth. He cared little if any thought him weak at this moment as his fear for his precious family was uppermost in his mind. “But if you must...choose...please save Legolas for I cannot live without him.”
“Have no fear, Ion-nin—I will not let you lose either of them. I was there when Legolas’ mother was born; we will not have a repeat of that awful day.”
“Why are you here so soon? I am very happy and grateful, but confused?” The young King asked.
“I...I received a very strong vision of you weeping and I knew that I should not wait until after Yule to come. It is strange, but King Thranduil said the exact same thing. It would appear that the Valar have other plans, Young One!”
A short time later, Legolas’ father King Thranduil and two of his brothers arrived in the Houses of Healing (the eldest remaining in Greenwood the Great). After speaking briefly with Aragorn and Lord Elrond and whispering sweet words of love to his child, Thranduil and everyone else save Elrond, Arwen, Elladan and the Senior Healer left. Aragorn would have been expelled as well, but Legolas became agitated when he could no longer feel his familiar presence—so he remained holding the wood-elf all the while.
The Noldo Lord went to work examining the Prince. It was determined that the best course was to perform an operation to remove the elfling; this would relieve the stress on both Legolas and the infant. It would also give the elf the greatest chance of having more children someday. Aragorn’s thoughts on this could be clearly read on his face (not yet willing to endanger the elf again), but he kept them to himself for the time being as Legolas remained furthermost in his mind and the mind of all present. He watched as his grandmother gave the blond Prince a sedative in a warm tea. It was very disconcerting to see Legolas’ eyes closed in sleep, but Aragorn was assured that this was fine.
There was some blood, but all in all, the procedure took very little time. When the male child was pulled from Legolas’ womb, the bells signaling that Yule had arrived began to toll; then the baby was given straight away to Arwen who washed and check over him along with the Gondoran healer Huor. Elladan worked swiftly along side his father as the Noldo Lord stitched up the Consort. Aragorn stood by as this was done; he hadn’t wanted to let go of Legolas, but the elf was calm and room was needed to perform the operation. However, as soon as the Elrond had finished, Aragorn was back cradling his husband close to him. He only looked up when his grandmother brought over his son.
“Would you like to see him, Aragorn?”
She smiled at that look of wonder Aragorn often got when he was pleasantly surprised by something he did not know could be so. This most often had to do with Legolas although the wood-elf was not always aware of it.
The dark-haired elfling was perfect to his sire’s eyes; the small face a near-match to Legolas. Arwen put the child onto the Prince-consorts chest and Aragorn reached an arm to enclose his son.
“How is he? Is he well?” The young King asked.
“Yes, my child and he will grow strong as all elves. It would appear that arriving early was no trouble for this one.” She laughed.
Looking anxiously to Lord Elrond, he inquired. “And Legolas—Is he..?”
“Legolas will heal, Aragorn, so worry not.”
It took some time for Legolas to awaken, but he did with very little pain thanks to sedatives that were given to him periodically. But all pain was forgotten when he first beheld his elfling; but if the baby gave him joy, the look of utter love emanating from Aragorn took his breath away. He still felt that he must be dreaming. But this was no dream as his lips were taken into a tender kiss.
“Thank you for not leaving me, Lassë, and thank you for this beautiful child. I...I love you with all that I am.” Legolas wiped away Aragorn’s tears as his own fell.
“You are most welcome, my Beloved—thank you for making him with me. I love you, too, with all my heart and soul.” They kissed gently, but with feeling, breaking apart when Legolas heard his father’s impatient voice ring out beyond the closed door.
“I think that we had better let in your in-laws, Aragorn!” Elladan laughed as he opened the door. “Only a few at one time,” he said in a perfect imitation of Lord Elrond who grinned fondly.
King Thranduil and Legolas’ brothers came in. After a time, they let in Lord Denethor, Boromir and young Faramir. It had been a long day and threatened to be a long night, but Aragorn put a stop to the visitations until the next day, but was careful not to tire out his new family. The city was joyous not only for the season, but for especially for the new arrival.
In the days and weeks to come, word spread about the birth; and citizens from all over came to pay their respects and to bestow upon the Heir Apparent gifts both humble and grand. They brought gifts to the Royal Couple as well, but Legolas and Aragorn both knew that no gift could compare to their newly acknowledged love and their precious son that was forever link with the Yuletide.
And Gondor prospered...
Word/Phrase Glossary:
Ellon/Ellyn – Male elf/elves
Aran-nin – My King or My Lord
Gift of Melian – Made up by yours truly to explain Mpreg.
Melian – In canon, Melian was a female Maia who took human form to wed Thingol also called Elwë. For my story, I’ve made Melian into a male Maia who was given the gift of bearing children.
Annan – Is the fictitious child of Thingol and Melian and brother to Lúthien. His name is taken from the Quenyan word anna (gift).
Melyanna -- Dear gift; Melian’s other name.
Lassë – Leaf in Quenyan.
A’mael – Beloved.
Ion-nin – My son.
The most of the history is taken from the Silmarillion and from Tolkien’s World From A to Z, The Complete Guide to Middle-earth by Robert Foster.