Disclaimer: I own nothing! It all belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Just me: Thanks for reviewing. Haha! Pesticide. Yes! Yusraa is so very hate-able!

Thirsty for more: noo! Don't do that! I don't live in a desert. Though I suppose it would be interesting.

Guest: *looks innocent* maybe! Rilien is certainly an enigma.

Bigpattern: Rilien certainly is a mystery, at once helping our Royals and yet so hateful and mysterious at the same time. I totally don't know if Legolas is pregnant! You'll just have to find out!

Aralas: Thank you for your kind corrections. As always, it will take me time to go back and correct myself, I am terribly bad at it. And yes it should be tome and not tomb. Rilien the cat. That is an interesting concept. Somehow, I think he would be cuter as a cat, certainly. I like him, he would make a nice furry. We shall find out more about him as we go along.

Title Translation: my child

"Legolas, I need you to consider what I said about Rilien."

Sighing, I turned from the stack of papers at my desk and looked patiently at Aragorn. We were standing in my office, surrounded by my usual mountain of scrollwork. Aragorn had come up to invite me to lunch, but the conversation had taken a different turn. It was late morning, and though I wasn't feeling particularly hungry, I appreciated any excuse to spend time with my spouse. If I were truthful with myself, I'd say I was feeling rather ill, but I kept it to myself. Aragorn had voiced his concerns regarding my attendant, and while I took everything he said into account, I didn't think there was truly any cause for concern.

"It was just one look, meleth" I murmured. "Surely we can't dismiss someone based on a single passing expression."

"You should have seen it" Aragorn persisted. "It was…abhorrent, Legolas. I've never seen anyone look at another with so much hate."

"I'm his superior" I said wearily, pushing my chair away from the desk. "I suppose he has to hate me a little bit, on principle." I smiled indulgently at my sulking husband. "Don't worry, if he shows any inclination of acting upon his virulent dislike, I shall put him in his place."

"I just worry for you" he said hesitantly, cupping my cheek. "I know you hate it, but I can't help it."

"I won't hold it against you" I teased, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "As long as it doesn't become a point of contention between us."

He laughed and gestured for me to lead the way out of my office. I dismissed the guard at the door, not wanting him to feel obligated to keep watch over an empty room. Aragorn offered his arm and I took it, finding myself needing the support more than I usually did. Along with my strangely altered appetite, I was assaulted with occasional dizziness, and I tired abruptly for seemingly no reason at all. Certain combinations of smells made me deathly ill, and I was uncomfortable and cross at times without cause. Elves do not get sick, so I couldn't brush it off as a passing illness. Aragorn was becoming increasingly worried, though he tried his best not to press me over it. I was slowly resigning myself to the fact that I might have to get Elrond to look over me. Though I couldn't fathom what it could possibly be, I didn't like the idea of feeling so off-kilter for the rest of my days.

A gentle hand at the small of my back pushed me forward, and into Aragorn's office. He'd had a small table set up, and I sank gratefully into the chair provided. To my utmost relief, my husband had taken the care to ask for the mildest of options for our brief repast. There was water with a little bit of lemon alongside some cantaloupe, and what looked like two artfully arranged chicken sandwiches. Someone had rustled up some delicious-looking vanilla wafers from who knows where and I considered skipping the rest of the meal just to eat them. One look at Aragorn told me he wouldn't have it, however, and I pulled a slice of cantaloupe towards me with a feeling of appreciative resignation.

"Faramir tells me the road should be finished by the beginning of fall" I said lightly.

Aragorn, who had been shifting papers in order to pull his chair 'round to the table, looked up and grimaced.

"Yes, well, it's been two weeks and they're only getting started now." He sat down. "Our main concern is crossing over the rivers Eruil, Sirith, and possibly Serni. Bridge-making is never an easy task, and the calculations needed to be done beforehand take time."

"The road passing through Plargir isn't sufficient?"

"It is sufficient" he conceded, picking up his sandwich. "But it is not efficient. Its Eastern detour adds about fifty miles to the journey, whereas a straight path across the rivers is much shorter."

"You're thinking of trade then."

"And travel" he supplied. "There will come a time when I intend to visit as many cities in Gondor as possible. I'd like to think we've established convenient routes to traverse before then."

"I should very much like to see Dol Amroth" I commented.

"You'll forgive me if I am loathe to bring you so close to the sea for quite some time" he said gently.

"Sometimes, I think all the talk about elves and sea-longing is utter rubbish" I replied airily. "I think of the ocean and it makes me nauseous."

"Everything makes you nauseous right now" Aragorn said dryly.

"You do like to tease" I said irritably.

He smirked and returned to his sandwich. I spent a moment debating over whether I should call him out on his haranguing, but decided against it. If I couldn't take a little jesting, I was in no position for pleasant company, and we had so little time to spend together. Brushing aside my disgruntled sensitivities, I reached for another slice of cantaloupe. As the fruit brushed my lips, I was accosted by a wave of nausea that was stronger than anything I'd felt in the previous days. It started in my stomach; with a tightening that was vicious and terrifying, and quickly spread outwards. My mouth began to water and my throat felt suddenly constricted. Vaguely, I heard myself gag and I felt surer than anything that I was going to vomit all over the luncheon if I didn't get up and move away immediately. My chair fell back with a clatter and I stumbled to a water basin near the door to lose what little I had eaten that day. For a moment, I was lost to the sickness; it consumed me and made me incapable of registering anything else. Eventually, I was aware of two cool hands holding my hair back as I heaved helplessly.

After a time, the urge to empty my stomach slowed and stopped. Trembling, I wiped a shaky hand over my mouth before straightening to slump against the wall. Once I had minimally gathered myself, I met Aragorn's worried gaze. His mouth was set in a thin line, one hand still placed supportively under my elbow. I felt suddenly like crying hysterically, which only seemed to bolster his expression of concern. As my shaking subsided, he gently guided me back to my seat, taking care to push any reminders of my ill-fated meal as far away from me as possible. He pulled the chair he had been using around the table to face me; his knees nudging mine. His solemn expression told me there was no room for argument this time, and I hung my head. My lip trembled as his fingers gently cupped my cheek, pushing back the curtain of my hair.

"Legolas" he murmured, and there was such tenderness in his voice that I wanted to weep. "I want you to go back to our rooms and lay down. I am going to fetch Adar, and we will be along to examine you shortly."

"I…I'm sorry" I said brokenly.

"You are not well" he said gently. "I know it's hard for you to accept, but if you don't take care of yourself, it will only get worse." He brought forth a napkin and handed it over to me. "Do you want me to call Rilien?"

"If you don't mind" I replied tiredly. "I don't know if I can make it to our rooms on my own."

A disapproving glint in his eye was the only indication of his displeasure at my choice of company. He called an attendant to fetch Rilien, and set about cleaning up our luncheon without fanfare. My dark-haired accompaniment appeared a few moments later, a delicate expression of concern on his face.

"Mani marte?" he crooned, stroking an errant hand over my head.

"Can you escort Legolas to his rooms?" Aragorn queried, his arms full of tablecloth. "He needs to be examined, I'll be along with Elrond shortly."

"Of course" Rilien purred. "If you'll allow me, your Highness."

I took his proffered arm because I needed it, not because I wanted it. Casting Aragorn a despairing glance, I caught the back-end of his placating smile. Somewhat mollified, I followed my royal attendant into the hallway, where he settled in to a leisurely, surprisingly considerate pace.

"You've been awfully neglectful of me these past few days" Rilien commented as we exited the Agricultural Division.

"I thought it was your job to attend to me" I murmured.

"You haven't called on me" he pouted.

"To be frank, I've been deciding what to do with you" I snapped, feeling irritable.

The stiffening in his shoulders was barely noticeable, but was still there.

"Oh?" he queried. "And what have you puzzled out?"

"You're far too clever for your own good, you're incredibly dangerous should you decide to betray me, and I'm not entirely sure you're sane" I muttered. To my surprise, he threw back his head and laughed, startling nearby passerby. "I don't jest."

"I know you don't" he trilled. "That's possibly the most accurate assessment of my character anyone has come up with to date." He batted his eyelashes. "I'm quite flattered."

"That doesn't make me feel any better" I said crossly. "Just…get me to my rooms."

We made it the rest of the way without speaking. In truth, I had come to rely heavily on Rilien, more than I cared to admit. We constructed political concepts together, and our work was unparalleled. I was careful and insightful, and he was relentless and perceptive. Outside of public affairs, he was a companion and comfort during the long nights that Aragorn was unable to be there. His outrageousness and courtier-like demeanor made him seem non-judgmental and carefree. I could get outrageously drunk in front of him and he wouldn't judge me at all. Not that it was a situation I cared to repeat, but I was still grateful for his discretion. I wasn't sure I trusted him, but I didn't dislike him. Moreover, he was kin to me, and that alone did a world of difference.

Rilien opened the door to the Royal Chambers and allowed me to step through before him. I did so and he swept through behind me, busying himself with turning down the sheets and starting a small fire. It was something a servant could have done, but he preferred to do it himself. Slipping off my shoes, I made short work of ridding myself of the confines of my heavy robe and leaving only my tunic and leggings. I let Rilien prop me up in bed and get me a glass of water but shooed him away to sit in the study so I could close my eyes. I savored the feeling of cool, clean linens for a few moments, pressing my cheek against the fabric before forcing myself to remain awake. As much as I wanted to sleep, I didn't want to have to drag myself back from the edges of unconsciousness to hear what Elrond had to say.

It wasn't long before the lock to our chambers turned again, and I watched as Aragorn and Elrond made their way inside. Aragorn looked desperately worried, though he appeared to be doing his very best to hide it. His foster father was the usual picture of timeless serenity. My husband had his satchel of healing herbs, but otherwise neither of them had thought to bring anything special. Rilien appeared once more to proffer chairs but exited swiftly once his duty was done. It struck me odd that he wouldn't want to snoop around for my examination, but I supposed he thought he could be more useful elsewhere. Elrond took a chair and moved it close to me at the side of the bed, while Aragorn remained standing.

"Estel tells me you've been feeling off lately" he commented, taking my hand without warning and running his fingers just above the tips of my knuckles. "Besides your sudden affinity for all things meat-related."

"I'm sure it's nothing" I replied, shivering as I felt his power brush just above the surface of my skin. "I'm a little tired, I get dizzy occasionally, and different tastes and smells make me nauseous."

"'Nauseous' as in throwing up" Elrond said dryly, and I felt myself turn scarlet. He sat back and looked at me. "You know our kind don't get sick."

"Yes" I whispered.

"In short, if you'll forgive me for summarizing, you feel as if you're falling apart and you are nothing short of terrified."

I stiffened and mouthed helplessly for a second, gripping the sheets. The elder elf held my gaze until I dropped it, covering my face with my hands.

"I don't know what's wrong" I murmured into my fingers. "And, yes, I am scared."

Aragorn made a soft noise of understanding, and his hand came to rest gently upon my shoulder. Elrond was silent for a time, still busy examining my hand with uncanny interest. A warmth had begun to spread from where his fingers touched me; little tendrils of almost-curious heat humming nicely up my arm to the center of my chest. The sensation made me drowsy, though I did my best to stay awake in order to hear his diagnoses, if there was one. Eventually, he had me unlace the front of my tunic so he could stand and lay a hand on my chest. The warmth I had felt in my arm and torso soon spread to encompass my whole body. I knew little of healing magic, as I'd primarily been trained in the arts of war, politics, and courtship. However, I did know that it worked in layers, observing each system of the body and its points of energy. Every few minutes, I received the sensation of Elrond's magic burying itself deeper, working its way into a different functional avenue. Eventually, he appeared to falter, the ghost of a frown appearing over his otherwise placid and concentrated expression. His visage cleared once more, and the searching warmth intensified into a probing heat before it was suddenly gone. The elder elf sat back, and I was surprised to see the ghost of a smile playing about his lips.

"Congratulations" he said quietly.

Aragorn raised an eyebrow and I wondered briefly if he'd lost his mind.

"Is Legolas alright?" my love demanded.

"Quite" Elrond said cheerfully. "His soul is bright and filled with energy." He leaned back, looking quite smug. "As is the other soul within him."

I looked blankly at him, as did my husband. Elrond appeared very close to rolling his eyes in exasperation. Slowly, realization dawned upon me, and I was hit with bewilderment, joy, and panic all at once. I mouthed wordlessly at nothing in particular, still trying to comprehend what had been said to me. It wasn't impossible no. We hadn't taken any measures to prevent it, certainly. I'd never imagined it would happen so soon-that my body would be so receptive to the possibility-normally it took decades.

"Are you saying Legolas is possessed?!" Aragorn demanded.

This broke the awe-struck, disbelieving atmosphere that had surrounded me. Slowly, as if emerging from a dream, I put a hand over my face and began to laugh. This-if anything-appeared to alarm my husband even more. Still, I couldn't stop the relieved, infectious mirth that bubbled up from within my chest from spilling out.

"Your hervenn is anhen, ionneg" Elrond said gently.

Aragorn looked wildly at me.

"I'm pregnant" I chuckled. "Just in case you couldn't translate that in all of your panicking."

Still, my husband seemed at a loss for articulation. I watched as a myriad of expressions passed over his face, and it appeared he could not decide on which one to keep. Idly, I wondered if we should leave him to his thoughts for a while, until he had sorted himself into some semblance of sanity. Elrond was watching his son with an expression that was one part sympathy, and another amused observation. Plucking at the sheets, I wondered if this was every husband's reaction to the knowledge that they were going to be a father.

"Are you sure?" Aragorn said quietly, breaking his stunned silence.

"Yes" Elrond said calmly.

"I thought this wouldn't happen for years" my husband pressed. "Thranduil explained-"

"-Thranduil was basing his speculations off his knowledge of other male Sindar who have had the Gift. However, all of those others had elven mates, not human ones. Elves are not known to be unduly fertile, especially since the rise of Darkness. So it makes sense that those elves who bore children had few. However you, Aragorn, are Human and very fertile. It was only a matter of time before your seed took."

"You're not…unhappy, are you?" I asked tentatively.

Aragorn, who appeared to have sunk back down into his thoughts while Elrond spoke, startled.

"No" he breathed, reaching out to clutch my hand. "No, I'm happy, so happy."

"But…" I prompted gently.

He hesitated, seemingly at odds with himself.

"I wish we knew where Yusraa was" he said, and a note of hopelessness crept into his voice. "The stakes are even higher now."

"Not if she doesn't know" Elrond pointed out.

"Who can we tell?" I asked. "Can I tell my father?"

"Yes" Elrond said slowly. "Tell your father. In fact, I think it would be better if he were here. There are things he knows about the Gift that even I am not privy to. Send a messenger out as soon as you can."

"We should tell Gandalf as well" Aragorn supplied, shifting so he could sit next to me on the bed. "He'll have suspected it in any case." He frowned, and then shot me an apprehensive look. "I…don't think we should tell Rilien."

I sighed exasperatedly.

"Why ever not?"

Gently, the dark-haired man took my hands.

"I'm not saying this to be cruel" he said gently. "I want to protect you, and our child, to the best of my ability. Rilien can't help with this. There's nothing he knows that my father, your father, or Gandalf can't supply." He bit his lip, and his eyes swept my face. "I'm not telling Faramir" he chided. "And he's my most trusted Advisor. If you do this for me, I promise everything will work out in the end."

"And what happens when I start to show?" I demanded. "Do we tell them that I've been raiding the kitchens day and night with not a care to my physique or well-being?"

Elrond chuckled.

"I think that is something you should worry about when it happens" he said gently. "You are about four weeks along, and you have about five months more 'till you have to worry about adjusting your clothes."

"Five months!" I gasped. "How long am I going to carry?"

"Feasibly, a year" Elrond said dryly. "Aragon may be human, but you are still an elf, with elven physiology. Elleths carry for a year, so I think I can safely say you will do the same." He smiled at my horrified expression. "You have to think of it this way; elves grow more slowly than men. It takes nine months for a human fetus to gestate, but three months more for an elf, due to their slower growth."

"Anything could happen during that time" Aragorn said, sounding rather desperate.

"You didn't do anything to prevent it, and now you must face it" Elrond said, sounding stern for the first time. "I suggest secrecy and discretion up until the point that you can hide it no longer." He put a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Children are gifts from Illuvatar, young one. Soon, you will find out how great that gift can be. I'll leave you to each other now, I imagine you both have much you want to discuss."

He saw himself out, and I watched as Aragorn moved to slide the lock into place behind him. He then turned and observed me through hooded eyes. I was suddenly nervous and apprehensive, though I couldn't say why. I felt that I was at once utterly vulnerable yet incomprehensibly protective. I smiled tentatively, and my husband returned the gesture. A small knot of anxiety loosened as he hoisted himself onto the bed next to me, grasping my chin and pulling me in for a kiss. His other hand burrowed under the covers to creep under my tunic, resting almost hesitantly on my stomach. I covered his fingers with my own and let my eyes drift shut. It was a moment that didn't require words; intimate in its own eloquent fashion, without the need for conversation. Aragorn took a deep shuddering breath and I pretended not to notice as he swiped at his eyes in a very obvious but absolutely endearing manner.

"Amin mela lle" he whispered, his breath tickling the apex between my neck and collarbone.

"It's…strange" I laughed, and he raised a humorous brow. "To think that I can…that I might." I trailed off, but he seemed to understand. "You musn't get all fussy" I teased.

"It's far too late for that" he said dryly. "I'm already thinking up plans for you to work from the Tower."

"Oh, don't do that" I groaned. "I'm not an invalid. Exercise will do me good. Elrond would tell you that."

"I could lock you in here" he said in mock consternation.

"And I should be very cross if you did" I murmured, turning to thread my fingers through the lacings in his tunic. "Speaking of exercise…"

He laughed and pushed me down into the pillows-gently of course-and we forgot the world for a time. I was indescribably happy; a year seemed almost too long to wait. Still, I was grateful for the time to prepare. A child was both a blessing and responsibility, and I was both excited and apprehensive. Yusraa was presumably still alive and actively among us, but it was hard to think of such things in the face of such joy. The miniscule, precious life within me held far more prominence than the seething maleficence of an insane arachnid.

It turned out that Aragon needn't have bothered about fussing. As soon as word reached my father, he wrote back informing us that he was mustering a company as he wrote and would be at the gates of the White City within a week and a half. He sent me a list of herbal remedies to help with my nausea along with several more that appeared to be rudimentary supplements. He was quite frantic about the fact that I should be kept warm and dry; though I had gave no indication of cavorting in puddles or hanging about cold dungeons. He was also insistent that I avoid anything alcoholic, though I had been unable to so much look at a glass of wine without becoming violently ill. By the time I had finished my father's missive, I was rather dreading his arrival. I had the distinct impression he would like to put me in a padded cell until I gave birth.

Gandalf seemed appalled that we had taken no measures to prevent against such happenings. By the time he was done chastising us for our foolishness my ears were burning. He was still scouring Pelennor Fields for traces of Yusraa's magic, and each time he was unsuccessful we were reminded of how formidable an enemy we faced. In truth, he seemed rather terrified at the idea of having to protect a being no bigger than a grain of rice. Three days following our dire scolding I found a mountain of infant-related gifts piled just inside the doors to the Royal Suite. They included 'fireworks' of a type that didn't burn hot but were strangely fuzzy to the touch and exploded into pink and blue butterflies. I didn't hold anything against the old wizard after that.

Along with his other duties, Aragorn was suddenly finding himself accosted by Elrond at all hours of the day and night. The old elf seemed Valinor-bent on teaching him the rites and respects of fatherhood before he could even hear its heartbeat. I caught them ritually reassembling and dissembling a bassinet with such fierce expressions of concentration I nearly collapsed with laughter. I felt rather sorry for my husband, but all it was far too funny for me to put an immediate stop to it. In truth, we had far more time than any of them were acting like we had. But I guessed the novelty of it would wear off after a week or so, and I let them have their fun.

Rilien seemed to know something was different but didn't comment on it. Instead he opted to drag me through eighteen agricultural missives while I was practically bed-ridden with morning sickness. Something in me whispered that he had known the truth of my condition far sooner than any of us, but chose to ignore in favor of being as obnoxious as possible. I guessed that he very much hated being out of the loop, but couldn't confront me directly out of some snotty sense of superiority. He was-quite frankly-crossing lines from being a tolerable pest to being utterly nasty, and I often found his attitude to be childish and dispassionate. I considered dismissing him several times, but each time I did he would do something so offputtingly considerate I ended up throwing all my misgivings out the window. It was during such a time that something changed that was pivotal in our search for Yusraa.

I had just finished bathing for the night, having resigned myself to an evening without my husband. He was caught up in a trade negotiation with Harondor, and I didn't expect to see him until late the next day. Toweling myself off, I dropped my towel on the floor next to the bath, and made my way to the dresser to find a light sleeping tunic. A noise at the entrance to the rooms gave me pause, and I turned to see Rilien slip in the door and lock it behind him. I quelled the exposed and uncomfortable feeling that rose within me, preferring to turn to the side and meet his gaze with an expression of detached disinterest. He held a flask in his hand of what appeared to be oil, and a towel in the other. On his face was his usual cynical smirk, but with a depth I didn't understand and wasn't sure that I liked.

"In my mother's courts" he began airily, stepping forward. "We were taught to both command and serve." He brushed the bright yellow sleeve of his flamboyant robe to the side. On his wrist was a brand that looked ugly, even though it was obviously old. It was in the shape of what might have been a figure eight; if it had not been so long and distorted. "This is the symbol uir…it means eternity. I am taught to understand the niceties of all things, both professional and subservient." He lifted the flask of oil in indication. "I was once told by the palace guard I had the finest hands for massage in all of Beleriand." He blinked sleepily at me. "I wondered if you might allow me to demonstrate those skills."

A strange, lightheadedness had overcome me. If I'd not been tired, and in a frame of mind for riddles, I might have recognized the subtle spell he'd attached to the ends of his sentences. Instead I was incurably distracted by the deep temptation a chance to relax offered me. A memory I had thought deeply buried rose to greet my weary eyes; of my Naneth rubbing sunflower oil into my shoulders when I was barely more than a babe. I felt a deep, sorrowful sense of nostalgia that left me weak and suggestion-prone. Almost unconsciously, I inclined my head in assent, turning to lie down on my stomach on the mattress. I felt rather than saw the triumphant expression on his face, and for a moment I almost came to my senses and got up. Then the towel he had been holding was laid down to cover the lower half of my body, and I felt myself relax under the false sense of propriety he had imbued with the simple gesture.

Rilien had not been lying when he said he was masterful. Almost instantly, I felt myself relax. The oil had been warmed just enough that it left no ghosting sense of coolness over my skin as his hands worked my shoulders. It left a deep, desperately relieved feeling in its wake; almost to the point of numbness. My back hurt terribly, and it seemed that he knew exactly where each painful point of pressure could be relieved. Against my will, I felt my eyes slipping; the candles in the room becoming one unified line of glorious glowing gold. He was humming something indistinguishable but unerringly soothing, weaving a web of masterful sloth over me as I felt myself falling into blissful unconsciousness. It wasn't until I was on the very edges of sleep, hanging over the precipice between wakefulness and dreams, that I felt the point of a dagger at the small of my back. I felt a wash of fear fill me as I stiffened, but a part of me knew it was already too late. Rilien's breath ghosted over my ear as he held me, immobile, the tangency of his threat lying heavily on the air.

"I'm going to gut you" he hissed, and I shuddered at the malice in his voice. He licked his lips and continued. "I'm going to put this knife straight through you, and that filthy, ill-gotten spawn that you bear. And neither your air-headed wizard or your foolish, negligent husband can do anything about it."

Author's Notes: Oh! I imagine you all hate me right now. Like I said, kicking the action back up again. Ugh. And I really, really like Rilien. We'll find out more about him in the next chapter. But yay! Our favorite couple is having a baby. And nooo! It looks like Rilien is going to kill Legolas. Sorry for the long delays between chapters. I THINK I should be able to kick back up next week. Thanks, as always for reading!