Keeper 14
Camp has kept me insanely busy! This has had basically no editing since I read it two weeks ago, but I'll definitely try to come back to it!
-XXX-
It takes us a while to grow used to the fact that we are married. Despite our closeness before the wedding, the reality of being joined to someone – seeing them day-in and day-out, always having them at arm's length – is something we took some time learning how to deal with. By the time seven or so years have passed, we are contented. I love waking up every morn in Thranduil's arms and going to sleep every night with him beside me.
By second year, it starts to feel foreign to spend my days without him when he travels for diplomatic duties. He is never gone for more than a week or two – nothing like the whole month of separation we beared before our engagement. I don't know if he's simply shortened any trips that might require that time commitment, or if none came up, but I did not mind.
Thranduil slowly begins introducing me to the political duties of my Queenship of the Greenwood. I had not thought I would want to learn how to rule. I was not, upon our marriage, too eager to be queen. But I find, in time, that I like running the palace, guiding the realm, acting as Thranduil's second. Not all of the nobility has accepted me, true, but most of the Silvan have welcomed me with open arms. They bring their problems to me, greet me when I am among them, and gift me frequently with small things - fresh eggs, flowers, et cetera. I think in some ways, I soften the cold appearance of Thranduil. He's more well-loved than before, though his capacity for kindness and fair nature has not altered – it's simply become more apparent.
"You are my best side," he tells me while we sit side-by-side on matching thrones, holding court to hear grievances.
I simply squeeze his hand, smiling softly.
In our eight hundred and eighty-seventh year of marriage, I find that I am pregnant. I share the news with Thranduil tearfully one afternoon in the courtyard, and we cry together – overjoyed. We had not been trying, but the news is well-met, regardless. We're considered children for well over three hundred years I immediately begin planning for a nursery.
As the months pass and my stomach swells. Fortesbrawn visits me daily – a little excessive though it's by Thranduil's orders. Everything seems to be going well on my seventh month. I am a little moody, but overall quite happy. There's nothing, I find, quite like being pregnant. It's slightly uncomfortable, yet I feel very…glow-y. Strangely energized.
Thranduil cannot keep his hands from my abdomen. When we are together, he is always caressing the bump, gently feeling the swollen flesh. And oh, the baby never kicks as hard as it does when its father is about.
"What do you think they shall be?" Thranduil asks lazily one afternoon. We're taken the day off to spend time in our clearing, spreading out blankets and pillows to lounge upon. I sit between his legs, head on his chest.
"Hmmm, I don't know."
"Really? I've heard often mothers can sense what their babies might be."
I put a hand to my stomach. "Perhaps a boy. A strong, mischievous little boy."
"How can you tell?" His hand goes on top of mine.
"I don't know, I just do. Just a feeling."
Thranduil laces his fingers with mine. "Whatever it shall be, I am excited."
I smile craning my neck to kiss him. Before his lips touch mine, I whisper back, "Me too."
-XXX-
It is only a week or so after this that we are given a surprise visitor to our court. The Grey Wizard has graced the Greenwood with his presence. And, he's requested an audience. We both remember why the wizard last came to these words, and nervously await his entrance into our hall. Gandalf is not friendly enough with us to come by simply for a social visit. He has some kind of news.
We meet him, seated together, in the cavernous hall. With his staff and pointed hat, the wizard looks nearly comical as he approaches our dais. Once at the foot of the stone, he bows deeply.
"Your highnesses," he says. A slight smile tugs at the old man's lips. His hands go to his staff as he waits for us.
"Mithrandir," my husband replies. "We welcome you to our wood. My wife and I are both glad to see you – it has been an age."
"Nearly," the wizard agrees. "I am equally pleased to see you and wife. Word of your union reached me while I was in Dale. I was glad to hear of it – I knew both of your parents well, I have no doubt that they smile to see their houses united. I know they would also be pleased to see a child has come so quickly out of the union."
"Thank you," I say softly. Thranduil's hand finds mine. I glance at him, smiling gently.
"What brings you to our Greenwood, Gandalf? I wouldn't think you would simply be passing through?"
"You are right, I come with news." The wizard straightens. "There comes, from the kingdom of Gondor and Arnor, well-wishing for your coming child. Anticipate gifts within the next month."
The king and I exchange a glance. "We thank you," I say before Thranduil can speak – his brow has furrowed. "And, should you be near, thank Valadil and Meneldil on our behalf. Would you wish to join us for dinner, Gandalf? We will be more than happy to keep you for the night."
"That would be delightful…."
At an intimate dinner, I sit beside the wizard. I must be especially careful with my fork, as my bump makes it difficult to sit near the table, making the journey between the plate and my mouth quite long. The wizard amusedly watches me navigate the utensils. My husband is speaking to Fortesbrawn, who we invited to meet Gandalf. At the wizard's chuckle, Thranduil glances my way. Then, he too smiles.
"When are you anticipating the child?"
"Oh," I say, poking a piece of deer. "In about two months, I think. Though, he's more than ready to come." I lay a hand on the bump. "He's keen on kicking."
"He?" The wizard's thick grey brows rise. "You think it to be a boy?"
I color slightly – another symptom of pregnancy. "We don't know for sure, of course. But I just feel it, you know?"
Gandalf smiles. "I think I do, yes. May I -?" He gestures to my stomach.
"Yes."
The wrinkled hands spread out against my swollen flesh. I can feel the baby kick suddenly, stretching. If the wizard's hands were not in the way, I am certain we would see tiny bumps of fingers skimming across the surface of my stomach.
"This one has great strength," Gandalf laughs. "He's certain got a lot of energy, my lady. You're going to have quite an energetic son."
I beam. "I think so, yes."
After dinner, we retire to bed. Thranduil dresses in his night robes while I lounge on one of the armchairs, reading. Once he is done he joins me, shifting so that I am sitting on his lap, novel in hand. His lips go to the back of my ear, breath tickling mercilessly. I fidget, making noising to indicate that he should stop. So instead, he beings playing with my hair. After several minutes of enduring the distractions, I turn on him, eyes glinting.
"I am trying to read." I growl.
"Mithrandir thinks we are going to have a boy?"
I blink. "What?"
"I half-heard you," he says. "The wizard believes that we're going to have a boy?"
"I suppose," I say. "Why –"
He cuts me off with a kiss. My hands drift to the back of his neck, fingers twining in his hair. Pulling back briefly, the king grins. "Two months."
"Two months," I agree, pulling him back, forehead resting against his. We're both smiling like idiots, and begin laughing together. I lean back to better look at him.
"I am glad I married you," I sigh.
His brows rise. "That is good to hear. Near nine hundred years in, it would be a little late for regrets."
"Mayhaps."
"All of the weeks it took to convince you, and you're content. You're having our child. If you were apprehensive, I'd be a little concerned." He tilts his head back, eyes glittering in the dimmed light of our room. "I am too glad you consented to grace me with your hand." His hands rest on my stomach. Voice softening, he says, "I cannot remember being so happy, Cala."
"Neither can I," I agree with a sigh. "My Thranduil."
We end falling asleep in the chair together, waking only when the fire dies down. We wake sore. My husband carries me to the bed, lowering me with a groan. When he crawls between the sheets to lie beside me, I'm pulled to his chest, where I curl in, nuzzling his sternum. We fade into sleep together again.
-XXX-
"I've always loved lilies," I murmur to the blossom. Beriana hands me another, and I bury my nose in the flower. I put it on my stomach, caressing the bump. In response, my baby kicks. I shift from where I sit to stand. My friend scrambles to help me.
"Do you need anything?" Beriana asks, concern. "Kal is just over there, he could get you water –"
"I'm fine," I assure her. "Just carrying a bit of extra person. But call Kal anyways, I'd like to see him."
The teenager comes quickly when called.
"Aunt Cala?" he asks nervously.
I simply pat his head. "Your mother is treating me like a piece of crystal. I thought it might put her at ease to have two people watching me."
With that, I set off, intent on wandering through the garden. Beriana hurries after me.
"Calahdriel Honeywell!" she scolds as she follows me, step for step. "You husband, the king, charged me to take care of you. The least you could do is not make it difficult. I swear, you're worse than Kalok when he was a baby!"
I smile, bending to sniff a rose. "I'll take that as a compliment. Kal was an adorable child." I straighten to pat the boy's cheek. "But that hasn't changed much."
His nose crinkles. "Aunt Cala, I'm eight hundred eighty-five."
"And still a boy," I reply. "My nephew. Ah, I can hardly believe, you're a young man."
He colors. "I'm hardly a boy."
"Don't argue with your queen," I say, grinning wickedly.
Beriana sighs. "Go get her some water, Kalok."
He slinks off. His mother turns to me, brows rising. "Teasing my boy?"
"Like any good auntie would." I wince suddenly. "Oh, that was a hard one, baby," I whisper to my womb. Another shift within me causes me to gasp, doubling slightly. Beriana catches my elbow and wrist.
"What is it?" Her green eyes are wide.
"Just feeling a little funny," I breathe. "I think –"
Suddenly, there is something wet in my underthings. Beriana leads me to the nearest bench, apparently not noticing the stain growing in the fabric of my dress. I lower myself to the seat, breathing deeply.
"The baby," I say frantically. "Beriana – I think my water broke."
Her mouth falls open. "KAL!"
-XXX-
Thranduil bursts into the infirmary, robes sweeping, eyes flashing. They settle on me, not fading into any state of calm, but their fire increasing. He's at my side automatically. Beriana, who was on the other side of the bed patting my forehead with a cool cloth, steps back. Arhiel, from where she sat holding my hand, follows suit. He grips my hand.
"Cala. How are you?" He's trying to remain calm, impassive, put-together. But something in his voice slips towards the end of the question.
"Fine," I assure him, bringing his hand up to my check. "As well as can be expected."
"Your highness." Fortesbrawn has returned from his office, holding a cup of tea. He hands it to me before turning to Thranduil.
"How is she?"
"Just as she said." The healer nods to me, hint of amusement in his gaze. I sip the tea, tasting mint and ginger. "Good. It should be an easy labor."
The words do not put the king anymore at ease. His hand tightens. I smile up at him, trying to be reassuring. Even when another contraction ripples through me, I'm attempting to put my husband at-ease. It doesn't work, unfortunately, when I release a small cry. Thranduil nervously watches, seemingly lost. "What do you need?" his eyes ask.
"How long?" he asks.
"Perhaps a few hours," Fortesbrawn answers. "The first one is rarely fast – perhaps your second child will come a bit faster."
I breathe a short laugh. "At this rate, I don't know if we'll be looking to have another."
Thranduil half-smiles. "We'll discuss it after you've held our baby. I think you may change your mind."
"Ah, mayhaps," I protest. "You try this and tell me you'll be quick to want another."
"I would if I could, my love," he assures me, stroking my brow.
-XXX-
The hours pass, painfully slow. We pass from afternoon into night. It's nearly ten when a few servants bring a tray for Thranduil. I can hardly look at food, let alone eat. He's so on-edge he can scarcely stomach anything, either.
The contractions grow closer and closer together. Around two in the morning, things really start. Fortesbrawn decides that I'm dilated enough to begin pushing.
"You can wait outside, my lord," I hear him offer Thranduil quietly as they walk to the supply closet for clean cloth.
Though his back is too me, I see the muscle tighten.
"No," he replies, equally quiet. "I'll stay. She needs me."
Something about his words warms me. When they return, I squeeze his hand, gasping as another ripple of pain tears through me. hranduil and Arhiel begin removing the pile of pillows behind me. Once their clear, the king climbs on – looking a little undignified, which I would normally relish enough to tease hm – to sit behind me, pulling me back to lay against him. It's not quite as comfortable, but I'm a little more at ease. We'd talk about him being there during the birth. I'd made the same offer as Fortesbrawn to get the same answer. Having him here would not make anything easier – but that's not quite the point. This is our…project. It's only right to see it through to the end.
The healer instructs me to open my legs, where he examines my progress. Frowning slightly, he peers closer.
"The baby is coming. You'll need to start pushing soon."
Thranduil's hand finds mine. We lace fingers. At Fortesbrawn's command, I begin pushing. The pain initially almost makes me want to black out, but I manage to stay away. With Beriana, Arhiel, and Thranduil's encouragement, I battle through the pain to push. Fifteen minutes pass excruciatingly slowly.
"You need to push, Cala," Fortesbrawn urges.
"I am," I wheeze.
"Harder!"
I close my eyes, and with all my might focus my energy. I feel a tearing pain, a release of pressure, then –
- an ear-spitting scream of life. I want to lean forward, to see my baby, but I don't have the strength, and sink against my husband. Beriana hurries to help Fortesbrawn go through his examination. Once they've finished, Beriana approaches with a squirming bundle, handing it off to me.
The wrinkled and red face is far from happy, making tiny snuffling noises as I pull the baby close.
"A boy," Arhiel tells us.
"A healthy boy," Fortesbrawn adds. "Congratulations, my lord and lady."
My eyes are flooded with tears. Looking up at Thranduil, I sigh. I lean up for a kiss and feel his arms tighten around me. Then, we go back to staring at our child.
"He's perfect," I whisper.
Thranduil cannot speak. He reaches out to stroke our baby's face. One tiny hand is out of the blanket, and together we marvel at the little fingers. Everything about him is so small and lovely.
"What shall we call him?"
The king rests his head against mine. "I've been thinking about it."
"Oh, have you?" I smile, kissing his forehead. "What are you thinking, my love?"
"Greenleaf," he says. "Legolas."
Surprised, I turn to stare at him. "That's Silvan."
He meets my gaze fully. "Like his mother," he says quietly. "And his grandfather. And the people he'll one day rule."
"Valar forbid," I murmur. "But…you want him to be Silvan? So clearly?"
Kissing my forehead, he nods. "What do you think?"
"Legolas." I try it out, pronouncing it slowly. "I like it." Looking down at the baby, I stroke the soft hairs lining his skull. The look like they might be blonde. At the touch of my fingertips, the babe opens his eyes, blinking blearily, tiny pink lips parting. His eyes are a startling blue – bright and deep. They're like mine more than Thranduil's.
"Oh," I whisper. "Look at that…hello, Legolas."
The fingers move, capturing his father's thumb and holding on.
"Hello, Legolas," Thranduil echoes.
There is something in his eyes like I've never seen before. A cross between deep joy and deep fear. It's an expression that does not fade, resurfacing each time he sees our son anew.
-XXX-
Please review, it's been a rough few weeks.