ANNÚMINAS
by Soledad

Disclaimer: see in the Introduction

Rating: R, for some non-explicit m/m interaction.

Author's notes:
Getting pregnant is one thing - enduring the thousand inconveniences of pregnancy is another one. Especially for a proud and impatient man like the King of Arnor. Fortunately, the High King is very gifted in finding ways to soothe him.

3. HARD TIMES

[The 3rd day of Lothron(1), in the year 3020 of the Third Age]

The next ten days were spent in quiet anxiety in both the royal and Erestor's family. Neither Boromir nor Lindir were allowed to leave bed, and while Lindir accepted his husband's care even in the most profound bodily news with a warm smile, Boromir felt utterly humiliated.

Not that he would have been ashamed before Elladan - they were long beyond that - but as a seasoned warrior, who had learnt to care for himself from his early childhood on, he felt uncomfortable and embarrassed to be fed and washed and even relieved with the help of his spouse. As he afterwards readily and ruefully admitted, he had been moody and irritable and hard to bear during these days, even by his own measure.

But when in one of his rare better moments he ashamedly asked for Elladan's forgiveness, the Elf (for in Boromir's eyes his beloved still was an Elf, regardless of his newly-gained mortality) only laughed, saying that a little grumpiness was naught compared to the paind and indignities Boromir had already endured and still was about to endure. And then kissed him senseless, effectively stopping any further argumentation. This was a trick that always worked with Boromir.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

When the ten days were over, the healers gathered in the royal bedchambers again, ready to check whether the perilous task of fertilization had been successful. This was the easiest part of the whole procedure - it only required a spell, cast by the wizardress, to make the new life in the King's body visible, in the form of softly glowing, golden light that (due to the spell) seemed to nestle beyond the hard muscles of his still taut abdomen.

Or golden lights, to be more accurate. For there seemed to be two of them, two tiny golden sparks, sitting in the exact middle of their protective womb, like two peas in a pod.

''Twins seem to run in the family'', commented Elrond softly, feeling something like true appreciation for his ill-tempered son-in-law for the first time in the two years that he had known him. These tiny beings, having just begun to live, were to be his very first grandchildren, after all.

But Elladan, already sick of fear to lose his beloved, became even more concerned learning the news.

''Valar, that makes everything twice as bad as it already was'', he murmured. ''Twin births are trying even for women - how much more perilous would they be for a male?''

''Not much more than birthing one child, I deem'', the wizardress answered soothingly. ''We would have to cut the babies out of his body anyways. 'Tis not the birthing that worries me, 'tis the carrying. King Aratan shall have to be very, very careful.''

''Which means...?'' Boromir asked with a frown, annoyed that she would always speak of him as if he were not present.

The wizardress raised a patient eyebrow - spending centuries in Rhún made her resilient against aggressive male demeanor - and started to count on her fingers.

''No bodily efforts whatsoever - including lovemaking'', she shot a warning glance at the High King wo nodded glumly. ''Special food that I shall order by the palace's Elven cooks. Baths in the warm spring for the minerals. Constant observation. Extended resting time. In bed. Red wine only, for supporting the blood-forming, but even that only in small amounts. No ale. No miruvor. Fortunately, since you are a southern Dúnadan, we have not to worry about that blasted pipe-weed, but let no-one smoke around you.''

''Only the Halflings do so'', Boromir answered defensively, ''and they have not visited Annúminas for months.''

''Mayhap we should invite them, assuming that they can go without smoking'', the wizardress grinned at Elrond. ''There is no better company when someone is confined to bed than a couple of Hobbits. No-one can get bored as long as they are awake.''

They all laughed, though Boromir seriously considered inviting his little friends to an extended visit. Their irrepressible good humour would help a lot to endure the dullness of the coming months. But then he decided against it. He did not want Merry and Pippin to see him in his soon-deformed state. Not that they would lose their respect towards him, but... this whole thing was dangerous. He could die any time in the next nine to twelve months... or how long it would take. He wanted his friends to remember him as he was during their quest.

He shook his head, trying to free it from the gloomy thoughts and forced himself to listen to the wizardress.

''Well... everything seems to be in order, so far'', she was saying. ''Now, let us go and see our other patient.''

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The long and complicated pregnancy did not become Boromir - he grew more and more irritated with his situation, the thousand indignities he had to endure: the morning sickness that never ceased for a single day; the pain in his back, due to the excess weight the twins put on his bones; the huge mound he had to push before himself all the time; the swollen ankles; the almost complete lack of appetite...

Unlike Lindir, who walked through the palace with an exalted smile on his beautiful face and in a constant state of absolute bliss, the King of Arnor looked but a shadow of himself. A moody, needy, ill-tempered shadow.

The only thing that brought him some relief was the magnificent bath adjoining the royal chambers - a large marble tub, big enough for a dozen people at the same time, fed by a hot spring under the castle. In its shoulder-deep water, rich with minerals, part of the weight was lifted off of him, and he could move easily. Almost as before this whole torture has started.

He slowly, carefully descended the flat, slippery steps and collapsed next to the last one, so that only his head peeked out of the water. He leaned against the rim of the tub with a stiffled groan. Over eight moons had he already carried his burden, and if the healers were right, he could count on about four more. There were days on which he seriously doubted that he would live to see the end of his misery.

Soft footsteps alerted him for the presence of another person. Wearing a long and wide blue robe, made of that wonderfully soft and light Lórien cloth, Lindir entered the royal baths. Being married to Erestor he counted as a member of the High King's family and therefore entitled to use all facilities of the royal wing, and he was as fond of the hot bath as Boromir himself.

''Good day, my Lord King'', he greeted Boromir in his soft voice; ''do you mind if I joined you?''

''By all means, be my guest'', Boromir answered with an impatient wave of his hand. He did not mind Lindir's presence, indeed - at least the Elf shared the bewildered looks casual visitors gave the King of Arnor. The Elves of the household adapted quickly, but the mortal dignities had a difficult time to accept the... unusual solution of royal heritage, to say the least.

Lindir dropped his robe, completely unashamed by his nakedness and by the dramatic changes to his lithe body, and descended into the warm water with the utmost care. Though he only carried one baby, he had already grown much bigger than Boromir, his smooth muscles giving in to the changes more easily than the battle-hardened body of the King of Arnor(2), and even his breasts seemed slightly rounder than before. Wearing his long, moonlight-coloured hair in a knot, wound low on his neck, he would look like a pregnant woman indeed - a particularly beautiful one -, were it not for the unmistakable proof of his gender, lying peacefully alongside one long, slender thigh.

Pregnancy made him even more beautiful than he had been before, and he bore it exceptionally well, or so it seemed. Unlike Boromir, he had not been sick for a day, and though he did develop the one or the other strage craving, there was no problem with his appetite, either.

''Acceptance, I think'', he answered with a shrug, whenever Boromir asked him what made him bear his fate so easily.

And truly, Lindir accepted the restrictions brought by his changed body with that unnerving Elven patience that could make Boromir howl with frustration, focussiong on his unborn child with an intensity that shut out anything - and anyone - else, with the exception of Erestor, of course. But even the longing for his beloved's closeness differed greatly from Boromir's ever-growing, almost uncontrollable need for Elladan. Though Erestor and Lindir cuddled a lot and did not hesittate to exchange chaste kisses and gentle touches in the presence of others, this seemed to satisfy both of them completely.

Of course, they were both Elves. They had all the time until the end of Arda.

Boromir turned his head slightly and watched the fair, peaceful face of the Elf for a moment. Lindir sat across him on the other side of the last step, head resting on the rim of the tub, eyes closed. There was an air of complete peace upon him, through which naught would reach him. Boromir asked himself whether the Elf was talking in thoughts to his unborn child.

''Nay, I am not'', Lindir said, without opening his eyes''; her mind is far too young for that yet. But I can hear your thoughts loud and clear, my Lord King; you should learn to shield them better. You know I am sensitive for thoughts concerning my own person.''

''How do you know then that 'tis a girl you are bearing?'', Boromir asked doubtfully.

''For she shaeres my flesh and blood'', Lindir answered simply, as if it were the most natural thing; mayhap for him it truly was. ''And though I cannot share thoughts with her yet, I can bond with her by sharing my feelings. Do you not bond with your offspring?''

''How could I do such thing?'', Boromir replied, somewhat irritated. ''I am but a Man, no Elf.''

''Tis no matter of race'', said Lindir with a slight smile. ''You consider the new lives that grow in your body a burden... that is why you cannot feel aught from them.''

''They are a burden'', the Man said glumly. ''I have had not one moment without pain for the last ten moons - not to mention the indignities. How do you do that?''

''Do what?'', replied Lindir in honest surprise,

''Endure all this so easily. You are even bigger than I am...''

Lindir shrugged, rubbing his swollen belly unconsciously, very much in the manner of a young mother.

''She is no burden to me'', he answered softly. Boromir frowned.

''What else then?''

''A gift''; seeing Boromir's astonished face, Lindir continued with a gentle smile. ''Understand this, my Lord King, I was not forced to do this - on the contrary, Erestor did anything he could to spare me. But I wanted to do this... to give my beloved a child, who is from our own flesh and blood. I knew the risks, and I know that I still can die when this child shall be cut out of my body. For this very reason I am glad that she is a girl - we shall not have the same fear when she comes to age.''

''And this is also the very reason why we shall have no other child, melme.'' They were both startled a little, not having heard the approach of Erestor. The seneschal of Annúminas squatted down at the rim of the tub and kissed the top of Lindir's head. ''You have had enough, dear heart, come out now. The lady wizard warned you not to remain in the hot water too long.''

''But it feels so good'', Lindir protested, wading out of the pool obediently nevertheless. ''the warmth eases the cramps in my legs and makes me all sleepy...''

''I know, love'', Erestor wrapped him into a large, linen towel and ushered him towards the door; ''that is why you should come to bed now. You need to rest.''

Lindir nodded sleepily, nesting in the mebrace of his spouse like a tired child.

''You come to bed with me?'', he asked. Erestor laughed and kissed a wet, bare shoulder.

''Certainly. I shall give you a good leg rub, so that you can sleep undisturbed.''

They left, murmuring their good-byes, and Boromir groaned silently. He knew he had been in the hot water too long and needed to leave, too, if he did not want to endanger his offspring (he still could not think of the little creatures inside him as real babies), He had to go back to the uncomfortable reality of unbalanced excess weight, clumsy padding through the palace floors and to the dozens of other hindrances that had made his life one complete misery during the last year.

Ever since the changes began.

It was not that he would not want these children, he told himself for what seemed the thousandth time. He always liked children. He would have wanted children even if he had had to wed a woman for having them, a woman who meant naught to him or for whom he would have felt naught but respect. But he never thought of carrying them and giving birth to them himself. That was just not the order of things.

Still, now that he had the chance to have children with the one whom he loved and who loved him beyond reason, he was willing to do this, no matter what the risks were. Lindir had been wrong. No-one forced him to do this either. He chose to take the risks.

He just had not realized what it meant to carry a child.
He did not thought of all the pain, the increasing discomfort and the restrictions.
Especially the restrictions.

With a sigh, he climbed out of the tub too, and carefully lowered himself onto a broad bench, made of silky-smooth, grey stone, glaring down on himself with what was half disgust, half despair. He had heard many times that pregnancy, more so in the later, advanced phase, quenched the desire for love-making, and it seemed true enough in the case of Lindir.

As for himself, of course even that had to be different. Instead of peculiar cravigns (though he did feel the uncontrollable hunger for cucumbers of all things at times, even if he never could keep them in his stomach very long) he developed a need for loving, even more so as his condition made it increasingly difficult to satisfy this longing. The urge was so strong that it permanently hurt.

''Here, let me help you with that...'', the soft, low voice of Elladan murmured, and his spouse sat down behind him, pressing a smooth, bare chest against his broad back, while two long, finely-muscled arms, strengthened by centuries of archery and swordsmanship, sneaked around his hip to take things into those strong, slender hands that knew every inch of his body so well that they could play it like a well-tuned harp. He closed his eyes in bliss and fell back into Elladan's embrace, nerly weeping in relief while the skilled fingers of his beloved brought him much-needed release.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

When Boromir finally fell in exhausted, uneasy sleep, Elladan returned to his study and poured himself another glass of miruvor. He ceased to count them several moons ago.

''How is he faring?'', Elrond asked quietly from behind the broad desk where he was tending to the most urgent affairs of the Reunited Kingdom in stead of the High King. Elladan sighed.

''Tis getting worse, father. His control over his feelings is slipping... he needs me more than he ever had.''

''And you need to rest'', Elrond rose gracefully and took the glass from the unresisting fingers of his firstborn. ''Getting drunk will not help.''

''I am not drunk, father'', the High King protested weakly.

''Not yet'', his father agreed; ''but you are drinking too much, Elladan. Even with your higher tolerance agaist liquor 'tis not a good habit to pick up.''

''That I know'', Elladan sighed, ''but it soothes my mind. I love him, father, with all my heart, and I am well aware of the risks he so bravely offered to take and what they cost him, but he is hard to bear in these times.''

''No doubt'', Elrond said with a slight smile, ''yet 'tis still so that you only have to suffer him - while he is the one who has to suffer. 'This is true for all pregnancies, even the most common ones; and his is anything but a common one.''

''Was...'', Elladan hesitated, ashamed to ask, but desperately wishing for someone to commiserate with him; ''was Mother ever this difficult?''

''Nay'', laughed Elrond quietly, ''but remember, she was a different person entirely. Pregnancy changes not the inner nature of an Elf... or a Man. Being moody and short-tempered is something your spouse was born with.''

Elladan was silent for a moment, his wide, sea-grey eyes darkening with sorrow. Even after two years, his choice of fate and of a bond-mate stood between him and his father.

''You still do not like him '', he then said softly. Elrond nodded, fort there was no reason to lie to his son.

''Nay. But I have grown to respect him greatly'', he answered honestly. ''And I can see that he makes you happy... most of the times. That is the only comfort I have in this matter.''

''Father, you know that I might have chosen the way of Elros even without him'', Elladan said gently.

Elrond sighed. ''I know. Yet ere he came into your life, I still had some hope. Your choice saddens me greatly, my son, just as Arwens would have, had she given in to Estel's beggings and bound with him. It matters not which of my children I have to lose for ever - it hurts just the same.''

Elladan tried to answer soemthing, but his father raised an elegant hand to stop him.

''Nay, Elladan, there is naught else we can say in this matter. Nothing that could ease the pain of parting. I have accepted your choice; please do accept the fact that it makes me not happy.'' He paused, then sat back behind the desk with a sigh, adding without looking at his son again. ''Go to him. He needs you more than I do. These are hard times for us all, but the hardest they are for him.''

TBC

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

End notes:

(1) Approximately May. All months were 30 days long according to the Steward's Reckoning.
(2) I am not making this up, actually. Once I lay in hospital together with pregnant women, before and after they gave birth, and there was a well-trained female teakwon-do champion with a body hard as iron - she suffered more than all the other women together. Now, this might be unusual, but it serves the purpose of my story well, so I simply used it.