Summary:

Líriel is a young Elven lady of Noldorin descent, born in Forlindon and dwelling with Lindir in Imladris, the Last Homely House East of the Sea. Since birth, as a result of an accident involving her expecting mother, Líriel's life has been cursed by a rather peculiar condition that prevents her from enjoying life; Lindir, her twin brother, is thus very protective of her, and the awareness of her poor health makes he lead their relationship in a state of constant apprehension, for he would never wish to lose his beloved sister. But Líriel has been a little too reckless this time, and Lindir has learnt very bad news for her health...

Notes:

- This fanfiction has been inspired by a roleplay on my Tumblr RP blog, and I blame my roleplay partners for coming up with such idea; that said, I regret nothing :P
- I would love to hear your opinion about this fanfiction. Please rate and comment!
- Last, but not least, this fanfiction has been beta'd by my dearest friend Natalia, who keeps supporting me no matter what. Thank you so much, babe!

Enjoy~!

Resting her head upon her soft pillow, she felt as if her limbs were made completely out of lead.
Her brow creased against the silk, as some stubborn shafts of sunlight found their way through the curtains into her chamber and stuck behind her eyes like arrows.
It was not the first time she had lain in her own bed in the middle of the day, but this time was definitely different than the others.

Oh, to think that but an hour ago she had been in the dining hall. Lord Elrond had managed to persuade her into sitting for supper, and she had been eager and ready to sit at the table, as her favorite fish soup was going to be served. The Lord of Imladris was soon to arrive and all was well, at least until an unexpected rush of illness doubled her over and she nearly collapsed onto the stone floor, right in front of the entire court.
What she could remember afterwards was only a confused combination of faces, voices and muffled sensations. And then, consciousness was back to her sometime later as she found herself in her own bed, feeling disoriented, queasy, and sorely ashamed of herself.

Sighing, she weakly attempted to look up at her chamber's ceiling, trailing her gaze along its carved patterns, only to squeeze her eyes shut tight against another merciless bout of dizziness. She felt very near to being dragged back to unconsciousness, when out of the corner of her eye, Lindir slid into her room and softly shut the door. A deep sigh was all she could hear before their eyes met, and a long pause followed before he spoke.

"I thought you were still unconscious, muinthel nín," he said, breaking his silence and moving to sit in the chair beside her bed. He reached for her pale, clammy hand. "How do you fare now?"

Líriel nodded and turned her gaze to him, trying a weak smile and blinking as she waited for her blurry vision to clear.

"Not as bad as before," she said, returning his hold on her hand, "forgive me for worrying all of you so much. I did not expect my illness to hit so hard and suddenly."
The elleth's voice lowered as she spoke, absent-mindedly biting her lip. Another long, nervous pause followed, and by the subtle twitch on Lindir's lower lip the sick elleth could tell that something was bothering her twin. "Is something amiss, muindor?" she asked with a frown, tightening her grip on his hand.

"I have spoken with the healers," he knitted his brow in a troubled expression, "they are quite sure that this time your condition was not to blame. They—"

"Oh?" Líriel's eyes lit with hope. "Well... that is good news— is it not? What did Lord Elrond say?"

Lindir grit his teeth, annoyed by her interruption, "Nothing, he is still occupied with Erestor. You have been tended to by Elrunin." He shook his head, grimacing as though in pain, and his hold on Líriel's hand loosened.
Another pause followed, and this time Líriel reached out to touch his cheek; she never liked to see him so troubled, especially if she was in some part to blame, but before she could touch him, he moved away.

"Líriel..." he sighed, and hung his head, "Dear, sweet sister, what did you do?"

She frowned, blinking in confusion as Lindir clenched his jaw and went on, "You knew it was dangerous. You knew you couldn't! Why, Líriel? You could have died!"

"Muindor, I do not understand! I am still alive...!" Líriel flinched as his temper rose.

"Yes, you are, and you should praise the Valar for it!" Lindir's voice cracked as he released her hand and ran it through his hair. One braid fell from his style and he did not bother to put it back in place. "...Líriel, when did it happen? Was it in Mirkwood? Who is he?"

Líriel gulped as comprehension dawned at last.

She had had this conversation once before, but then the one she had spoken with not long ago had not been as distressed as her brother now was; apparently suspecting her to be with child, they had wanted to be sure she would be well and strong, despite the risk a baby would bring to her condition.

She was aware of the reason why she had never been educated about what a marriage entailed; she had only been told how unlikely it was she would ever be wed, and that if she were, how much more unlikely would be her chances of carrying a potential elfling, much less surviving the ordeal. With his latest question Lindir had just made it shockingly clear, and the elleth lowered her head once realizing how the fearful suspicion was in fact sheer reality.

"...no," she muttered, shaking her head and trying to avoid her brother's gaze, "I... don't remember."
The sound of Lindir's teeth grinding against each other sent a shiver down her spine. "Please, brother... I cannot see you so upset..."

"Líriel, you must understand. How can you not understand about what this means?" He was stern, but as he looked up at her, she recognized glistening tears beginning to form at the corners of his eyes. "You may die, are you aware of that?"

Worry, fear and anguish were thick in his trembling voice, and Líriel fought the urge to wrap her arms around him and hold him tight. But she bit her lower lip on the verge of tears herself, and said nothing.

"Líriel... how?" he repeated, and she gulped, licking away the drop of blood starting to form on her swollen lower lip.

"I… did not think that it would happen, nor did I ever dare to wish for it," she breathed, rolling on her side and stuffing herself under the blankets. "I knew that it would have been dangerous, but he..."

She paused, clearing her throat and lowering her voice even more, if possible, "He was careful. He knows," she strained. "I was happy. You always said this could never happen, but it did."

The long pause which followed made her heart ache. She hated to cause such distress to her brother, but there was nothing in that moment that she could do to help it. Peeking out from under her blanket, she met his tormented gaze again.

"Is it true, Lindir? Am I really carrying his child?"

Lindir's sniffle broke her heart, but his nod was followed by the same question: "Who is he?"
She had no choice but to answer.

"...Lord Elrond."

Lindir's face dropped. His grief-stricken expression turned to one of utter astonishment, and he said nothing, his eyes merely staring at her, trying to detect any sign of a lie. He found none, and his disbelief turned to rage.

"Are you out of your mind?!" he snapped, jumping up from his seat, "He is married! Bound to his wife! How could you— how did you even dare to spoil their marriage?!"

"Please, brother, you don't know—"

"I know enough!" he barked. Líriel knew how furious he could get, and it looked like he was on the right track for that. But he had every right to be; it was known that Elves were to marry once and for all in their life, and the union between spouses was never to be broken.
Exceptions were virtually unheard of, and rarely—if ever—mentioned.

Of course, she knew her Lord was married.
She knew his wife meant everything to him, and she knew how badly he mourned her absence. She knew about her accident, and how Lindir had witnessed Lord Elrond's pain when he had found himself alone and grieving over his beloved wife's departure.
Then again, it was obvious that Lindir knew only part of the tale, and was unaware of how her Lord was, in fact, one of the hardly-mentioned exceptions where a bond had been broken. It was only after she knew he was no longer bound to his wife that she had surrendered and admitted her affections for him.

"Gin iallon, muindor nín, lasto amin..." she croaked, trying to sit up to reach out for her brother, who stepped back again instead.

"Nay! Líriel, it is forbidden! The Valar will curse you! You are having his child— you bound yourself to a married elf!"

"There was no bonding!"

Lindir's hand jerked, and a swift slap turned her face sideways, stinging her cheek and leaving her utterly speechless.

She gaped at him. It did not hurt, or at least it did not hurt as much as the thought of him being so outraged he would stoop to strike her across the face.
She knew he only meant it out of hurt, worry and fear; nevertheless, she brought a hand to her cheek, muttering an apology as she lowered her gaze to the fine embroidery on the blanket.
And the next thing she knew were her brother's arms wrapped tight around her thin frame as he cried onto her shoulder, tightening his hold with every slurred word of apology into her hair.

She sat still for several moments before she was able to react. Her arms wrapped around him in return, and her hand ran through his dark locks, waiting for him to calm down.
How could she blame him, after all?
He was her brother, it was his job to worry and care about her and her safety. Fear was worry with fangs, and these news, so threatening to her health, carried an impressive bite, indeed.

"Líriel..." He stroked her offended cheek before leaving a tender, damp kiss on it, "Líriel, forgive me... I am terrified. Why did you not tell me? You are in extreme danger now, you may die... I do not want to lose you."

He sniffed again, "Elflings are so rare, and now you have been gifted with one," he went on, sighing, "I know I should be thrilled, but…"

Líriel pulled him closer and planted a kiss on his forehead, hushing him. "I understand, brother. I know." She said, looking up into his red, teary eyes.

She understood why it was so hard for him to rejoice at the news.
It was not just because of a broken custom, or the hazard of a curse; there was no doubt she had to explain how it all had happened and how incredulous she still was herself, but his rage, she was sure, was not caused by mere indignity. He was worried.

He was alarmed, he was terrified to lose her; her health promised so little for child-bearing. There would be complications, even if kept under control by a skilled healer, and no guarantee that her or the baby would survive it, either.

"Lord Elrond will have to know." he said after some silence with another sniffle, arms still wrapped around his sister in a crushing hug.

Líriel did not reply.
She stilled her hand on her brother's silken strands, but did not pull away.

"...did not Elrunin tell him yet?" she asked, leaning her cheek against his shoulder.

"No. Not until he and Erestor are finished." he whispered against his sister's locks.

"...I am not sure I wish him to know. Not yet, at least."

Lindir's pulled her away from him, grasping her by the shoulders to meet her eyes. His brows knit again, as he insisted, "But, Líriel, you need care..."

"I know, brother," she replied, placing her hand over his heart, "and Elrunin will tend to me. I only need some time before I speak with him. That is all."

The ellon's eyes shifted to the side. He seemed uncertain for a moment, before he wrapped his arms around his sister again.
As they embraced, they took strength from each other, their bond as brother and sister stronger, surely, than what they would face. For the moment, Líriel felt safe and positive. Until her lungs protested.

"Lindir... you're crushing me."

Her voice broke the silence with a soft chortle, and her brother's arms loosened around her.

"Never leave me, sister. I beg of you, whatever happens, never leave."

Líriel buried her face in his chest. "I promise. But only if you will stay with me."

"Of course."

1. Muinthel = Sister

2. Elleth = Female Elf

3. Muindor = Brother

4. Gin iallon, muindor nín, lasto amin = I beg of you, brother, listen to me!

5. Ellon = Male Elf