ANNÚMINAS
by Soledad

Disclaimer: see in the Introduction

Rating: PG, for this chapter (I think).

Author's notes:
Eleven months into the pregnancy, things are not getting any easier for the royal family of Annúminas.

4. UNEXPECTED ANNOUNCEMENT

[The 11th day of Gwaeron(1), in the year 3021 of the Third Age]

''At times I wonder how I still can get any bigger'', the King of Arnor grumbled, reluctantly accepting the help of his spouse by such a simple thing as getting out of bed. ''I feel like the Mindolluin, and the witch says it would take me at least an other moon to finally have these babies.''

''Watch your tongue'', Elladan warned. ''Wizards are quick to anger, and we cannot afford to lose her help. Hold on a little longer, beloved, I beg you!''

He bent over to kiss his spouse, which was not easy, considering the size of the latter, but the High King was a limber Elf - well, a limber Man in these days - and could do it, without even touching Boromir's swollen belly. The vice-regent of the Reunited Kingdom had reached a considerable girth in the last five moons, indeed, so that merely moving from one room to an other proved a challenge. The morning sickness and other uncomfortable side effects of pregnancy remainded with him as well, not improving his state of mind either. One more moon seemed eternity - to both of them.

He rested for a moment in his spouse's embrace, recovering from the effort of getting up (in fact, he had spent very little time out of bed lately), then frowned.

''Elladan! You have been drinking again!''

''Oh, nay, I only...''; the High King tried to avoid a direct answer, but Boromir would have none of it. Forgetting his own misery for a moment, he clumsily turned to glare at his spouse, with a face that used to make battle-hardened soldiers of Gondor shiver with fear.

''Dare you not to lie to me, Elf!''; the mere fact that he called him 'Elf' showed how angry he was. ''I know I am hard to bear lately, but you are not immortal any more, so try to be reasonable. I cannot use a drunk wretch once the babies are there. You need not to walk upon eggshells around me, I am no fragile little maid. Yell at me when I am being a bitch, but cheat not on me with that blasted liquor!''

He expected an equally furious answer - they fought often enough, after all, having chosen to be honest to each other from the beginning -, but Elladan just laughed softly and rubbed his wrist in a soothing manner.

''Tis good to see you being yourself again.''

''My short-tempered, annoying and rude self, you mean?'', Boromir could not help but laugh, too, and pulling one slender hand to his lips kissed Elladan's palm. ''Well, better rude than whiny, I guess.''

''I love you'', replied Elladan simply, ''and I am scared to death from what is coming. I could not bear to lose you.''

''You fret too much'', Boromir grinned, fully forgetting his misery for the time being, which was the exact result Elladan had tried to reach. ''I am not that easy to kill. Not for cave trolls, not for poisoned Uruk-hai arrows... not even for two little babies with the blood of Maiar and annoying Elven Lords in their veins. All will be well.''

The discussion ceased for quite some time at this point, giving room for more pleasurable activities that - though greatly restricted compared to their earlier encounters - served nicely to set their minds at ease.

After an hour or so they finally emerged from the bath and walked over to their private dining chamber, for Boromir avoided to appear in public when ever he could. Not that he would have been ashamed of the changes his body was going through - every one in Annúminas knew that he was with child by now - but he wanted not his subjects to see how dependent on help he had become, even in the simplest of tasks.

For though the people of Arnor seemed to like him well enough (he was especially beloved by the Halflings, being the personal friend of the Thain of Buckland and generally a devoted protector of the Shire), but the Dúnedain of the North still were somewhat... reserved towards him, not quite having accepted him in Aragorn's stead yet. In truth, they merely tolerated him for Elladan's sake, and he got more support from the Elves of Imladris and Emyn Lasgalen, or even the Dwarves (not to mention the loyal and enthusiastic Hobbits) than from his own kin. Even with Halbarad, the new Captain of the Rangers openly siding with him, he remained but a stranger for his northern kindred. An outsider.

Elladan sensed the upwelling sadness in his beloved's heart and gently took his hand.

''What is wrong, meleth-nin?''

''Nothing...'', Boromir shook his head, but Elladan gave him a stern look.

''Now who is lying, Man of Gondor?''

''That'', answered Boromir quietly, ''is something I am no more. I might be called King of Arnor, yet in the eyes of Aragorn's people I am hardly more than your msitress. And once I gave birth to these babies, I shall be imprisoned in the nursery to look after their needs... I want to give you these children, love, but there are times I almost wish we still were at war. At least on the battlefield I could still be who I used to be.''

Elladan remained silent for some time; the sadness in the voice of his beloved nearly broke his heart.

''Have you regretted wedding me?'', he finally asked, almost fearing the answer. Boromir shook his head.

''Nay, I would do it again. I do love you, silly Elf, and I want to be with you til the end of my days. Tis just hard to live in a foreign country, where my own people reject me.''

''No-one rejects you!'', Elladan protested, wishing he could believe his own words. ''They accepted you as their King!''

''They did'', Boromir nodded, ''for you. Yet in their eyes I never shall be good enough to replace Aragorn. Not even your own father can see more in me than a nuisance. Even he can barely tolerate me.''

''That is his loss, not ours'', Elladan said with a hard edge in his voice. ''Let yourself not be bothered by his disapproval. Your father was not happier when we announced our betrothal, if I remember rightly.''

''You do'', Boromir replied with a rueful smile, ''and I loathe to even think of the moment when he learns of my... condition.'' He gave his own deformed body a sour look. ''At the end we only shall have each other, I fear.''

''And that is enough for me'', Elladan smiled. But his heart was troubled, for he feared that having each other would, an the end, not be enough for his beloved.

Boromir was a Man born and raised to rule, a great leader of warriors, who would have had it bad enough to adapt to a life in peacetime under normal circumstances. Being more or less exiled from his home that he had protected all his life surely did not help things. The troubles of pregnancy were just the last straw, and Elladan feared that - if nothing happened - he might break, soon.

He managed to make Boromir eat a little - not an easy task, and he begged the Lady inwardly that his spouse may keep the frugal breakfast in his stomach for a change, for Boromir had become frighteningly thin during the last year (except of his belly, of course) and needed his strength ere his trial was over - then they walked over to the royal sudy, where Elrond and Erestor were immensed in the affairs of the Reunited Kingdom, while in the farthest corner Lindir was writing something Glorfindel dictated him in a low voice. It had to be something official, for the young minstrel was using red parchment and silver ink(2); besides, in his present condition he was only asked to come to work when his beautiful, elegant script was needed. He preferred old-fashioned writing desks, where the scribe had to stand during work, and now hat he had grown almost impossibly big, it proved somewhat difficult to find a proper writing position.

Elrond looked up in surprise when the royal couple entered the study. In the recent moons the High Kind usually appeared alone.

''You are late, Elladan'', he mentioned, distracted by the letter Erestor and he were reading. ''And there was no need to drag your spouse along in his current condition. We can handle things here on our own.''

Elladan felt a sudden flash of fury at these words. Sure, Boromir was in no shape to partake in every day's affairs; still, he found it incredibly rude and insensitive from his father to dismiss him thusly.

''King Aratar is my vice-regent and the legally inthroned King of Arnor, father'', he answered in a tight voice. ''What ever your feelings might be towards him, he is as much involved in the affairs of our Kingdom as I am, regardless of his... condition.''

To say that Elrond was shocked by the hostility of his son would have been an understatement. After all, he was doing Elladan a favour, keeping the Kingdom together in his stead, so that the High King could look after his mate. Neither had Boromir shown much interest for state affairs, which was more than understandable under the given circumstances, though knowing Denethor Elrond had no doubt that his son-in-law was more than able to run a kingdom on his own - when he was not pregnant, that is.

But ere he could have thought of an answer, Boromir silenced Elladan with a weary gesture.

''Quarrel not on my account, I beg you. I shall go and leave you all to your important work, undisturbed.''

''Love, you do not have to go, if...''

''Elladan. Leave it.''

''As you wish. Let me call someone to escort you back to our chambers.''

Boromir rolled his eyes.

''I am not crippled, Elladan! Just a little clumsy. It comes from being as big as the hills. Still, I am able to walk through this blasted palace without half a dozen over-protective Elves fussing around me. You know it drives me crazy - and I would only insult someone again and embarrass you before your people.''

''They are not my people any more'', Elladan corrected mildly, avoiding the hurt look of his father. ''I have Chosen, remember?''

''Oh but they are!'', Boromir replied with a mirthless laugh. ''You might be mortal now, love, but that changes not your heart and your mind. You still think and feel like an Elf - and you always will.''

There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments, til Lindir broke it by finishing his work and putting down his quill pen with a contented sigh.

''I think I might take my leave as well, melme'', he said to Erestor. ''standing is more tiresome than I thought it would be. I need some rest ere the guests from the South arrive, should I be of any use later.''

''Lindir!'', Erestor hissed angrily, thinking that it was but a slip of tongue, but looking into those innocent and yet so wise eyes of his spouse made him understand that Lindir knew all too well what he was doing.

''What guests?'', Boromir asked, full of - justified - suspicion that the others were keeping something from him.

''Why, the King Artamir(3) of Gondor and his Steward, of course'', Lindir answered with wide-eyed innocence that no-one bought at that particular moment. ''Their arrival is due this evening or so I believe.''

Boromir felt all the blood leaving his face. His brother was coming! And more than that - his father, too! The stern, narrow-minded, hard-to-please, quick-to-judge Steward of Gondor, who could hardly bear the shame of his fristborn wedding an other male (and a male Elf to that, adding insult to injury), and who had as yet no hint of the very same son doing something rather... inconsiderable for the former Captain-general of Gondor.

''By your leave'', he murmured barely audible, to no-one in particular, ''I believe I need to lie down for a while. I might never get up again, truth to be told.''

Without being asked to, Glorfindel hurried to his side to escort him back to his chambers. Elrond shot Lindir a baleful look.

''Now that was a foolish thing to do, young one!''

''I believe not so'', answered Lindir mildly. ''I fear you cannot understand his condition - our condition - rightly. His closest family will be arriving this eve - he needs to be prepared, for this shall be no easy encounter for him. Meeting them unexpected, especially his father, could have dire consequences - even miscarrying the babies from the shock. He fights them enough as it is.''

''Are you saying he wants not our babies?'', Elladan asked, clearly shaken. Lindir shook his head.

''Nay, tis not what I said. He does want them - but they also take from him every thing he used to live for. Tis not easy for one who is used to be in control.''

''Yet it seems not to bother you'', Elrond remarked.

''I am a minstrel, a healer and a scribe'', Lindir answered with a shrug. ''All these are things I still am able to do - more or less. But King Aratan used to be a captain and a soldier - a strong Man, ready to protect others, not to be protected. Tis much harder for him than for me.'' He carefully navigated away from his uncooperative writing desk. ''I believe the best is when I go to him now.''

''Nay, go not!'', Erestor protested. ''He surely is in a very foul mood, ready to attack any one in his reach.''

''Any one but me'', Lindir smiled. ''I look too fragile for him to hurt me - and I am with child, too. He would never raise a hand against me.''

''How can you be so sure?'', Erestor asked, not conviced at all.

''For protecting the weak is his very nature'', Lindir replied simply and left.

The others looked after him full of doubt.

''I still keep asking myself just how wise it was of us to invite King Artamir and his father for a visit - at this very time'', Erestor murmured.

''We could not delay it any longer'', Elrond said with a shrug, ''or else they would have learnt of it from others and accused us of deception - rightfully so. Besides, tis better to face the truth here, with them as our guests than the other way round. Even so, it shall not be easy - for no-one of us.''

''Tis not us I am worried about'', sighed Elladan. ''Boromir will have a very hard time. You are not the only one who was greatly displeased by our choice, father... and the Lord Denethor is less considerate about hurt feelings than you are.''

''I shall speak to him'', Elrond offered. ''As one father to an other.''

''And what, pray you, do you hope of such a conversation?'', Elladan asked. ''Remember, for him you are the one who raised Estel to take his place at some time. Estel's untimely death changes not your intention in his eyes. Not even with his sons being the Kings of Arnor and Gondor.''

''Still, I deem I have more hope to soften his feelings than you do'', replied Elrond. ''For he lost his most favoured son to you, and seeing Boromir in his present condition would do naught to ease his mind. For him, this might seem an abomination. The Gondorrim have strange ways to think, or so I am told.''

''I know'', Elladan sighed. ''I only hope that at least Faramir will be somewhat more... perceptive. He used to be the pupil of Mithrandir, after all; that should make him more open-minded.''

''He seemed to accept you as King Aratan's bondmate well enough'', Erestor remarked. ''Much better than his father, in fact.''

''True'', Elladan nodded, not wishing to explain his foster brother the rather... delicate background events(4) that had led to Faramir's easy acceptance, ''But at that time his brother was his own proud, strong self. I fear the changes will disturb him greatly. I would hate to lose our only supporter in the Steward's family.''

Erestor shook his head.

''That I believe not. The sons of the Lord Denethor are as close as you and Elrohir are, even if - being mere Men - they had no centuries to forge a bond of brotherhood. Still, a strong bond between the two of them does exist, and tis not easy to break such bond.''

''And yet Elrohir had not spoken to me for moons, after he learnt of my Final Choice'', Elladan remainded him sadly. ''What Boromir has chosen to do for me... for us... for the good of our Kingdom, is no lesser things. It might upset his brother just as well as his father.''

''It certainly did upset me when I found out what Lindir had done behind my back'', Erestor agreed drily.

''Tis useless to agonize about what might happen'', Elrond commented with a small sigh. ''All we can do is to wait for them to arrive. Then we shall see how we can ease their discomfort.''

''And ours'', Elladan added glumly.

To that, not even his father could say anything more.

TBC

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End notes:

(1) Approximately March. Despite any earlier estimates, poor Boromir had to go through a 12-months-pregnancy, in Elf-fashion.
(2) An idea I have shamelessly stolen from The Tired Scribe for no apparent reason - I simply found the combination of colours pretty.
(3) Faramir's ruling name. Don't ask why. I have no answer to that question. Just wanted a similar name for him.
(4) In case you haven't read my canon Boromir-series (your loss :-b), I point out for you Dwimordene's excellent story ''From the Other River Bank'' that was my inspiration to write the whole thing. To Erestor being Elrond's foster son, see: ''Of Riddles of Doom and Paths of Love'', chapter 3, and the whole story ''Innocence''. It's not a canon fact, of course, though according to HoMe 6 and 7 Tolkien originally planned Erestor as a half-Elven character.