Here be there het.
=D
Anonymous: oooh, chappie 13 up. yeah, I'm doing review responses before the fic cos there's no point in doing it after for chappie 13. it'll change everything. And yeah, he did give it to Eowyn n Faramir. It was a rather new idea tho..... I only thought of it after Junior was born. Lol! But it works and the twisty turnies get even twistier and twistier.....
Mel: simple. They don't. oh, actually Aragorn does, right at the very end of this chappie, but he isn't given a chance to react at all. Nobody will ever know it's leggy's kid. Yes, I am evil. =P
Tap Dancing Widow: hmmmm..... well, good point. But then again, the Galadrial of the books was rather domesticated. I mean, I remember that she played a part in weaving or sewing the cloaks that the Fellowship wore. Back in the medieval times, the women of nobility did just about that. They'd sew, they'd manage their husband's household and they'd entertain guests. That was their main role. The galadrial of the movies is such an enlightened chick she kicks book galadrial's butt. Hmmm..... the meeting didn't really concern her, did it? I had Aragorn call out the Fellowship cos they are the people he would have been most intimate with over the past few months, and Elrond cos he's always struck me as Ada's liddle boy. The only reason Faramir and Eowyn were there was cos the kid was given to them.
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Warning: Male Pregnancy Fic. And MUAHAHAHA, There is a small little 'sex scene' at the very start.
Gondor: With the onset of labour, Legolas can no longer remain in denial about his pregnancy. RoTK, post coronation but before Faramir marries Eowyn. Movieverse, cos bookleggy isn't so fun to toy around with. He'll kill me before I even *think* about messing with him. Movieleggy is much MUCH more fun to bully..... Also starring Faramir & Eowyn, with some reminders of Boromir thrown in.
And as before, //..... \\ indicates a person's thoughts. (Responses to reviews at bottom.)
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Life!
Chapter 13
Eowyn's breath came fast and shallow as her body swayed to the rhythm of his thrusts. Her lips were parted, her eyelids fluttered. "Legolas," she gasped breathily, as she clawed the smooth of his back. But though he was tempted to do the same; to dig his nails deep into her shoulders or to sink his teeth into her porcelain skin, he dared not. He dared not leave the slightest mark on her body for Faramir to see.
Three years had passed since the wedding, three whole years since Legolas had surrendered his rights over his son, and for three long years, he had watched Oremir from afar as the child blossomed into a healthy toddler. That the boy was a peredhil was plain to see: his features declared him to be an elf, but his development was that of a human child. Well, slightly slower than a human child actually, and Legolas could sometimes sense Oremir's frustration as he struggled to learn more about the world around him than his mental capabilities would allow at so tender an age.
The couple had neither the heart to keep him from his son, nor to deny Oremir his true father, and as a kindly gesture, they welcomed him into their Ithilien home. They were unthinkably good to him, and Legolas knew that. They even let Oremir address him as 'Ada'. It was a hollow phrase to Oremir though. The boy did not realise it's elvish meaning, and to his son it was no more than a name, but the elf was grateful for even that small concession.
Legolas felt his thoughts drawn forcibly back to the present as a tightening in his body heralded his oncoming climax. And Eowyn read the signs. Reaching upwards to draw his head down, she sealed her lips tightly across his, forcefully muffling the sounds of their passion.
Much as they would have loved to linger in each other's arms, they parted hurriedly and straightened themselves, although Legolas allowed himself to relax momentarily as he watched her don her dress. The melancholy that so became her during the war still remained etched upon her features, but this time it had a different cause.
"Legolas," she whispered as she sat down on her bed. She pushed aside her hair and waited patiently as he redid the ties of her garment, then gave him a small smile when he kissed her. "Legolas," she began again. "What we're doing....." she trailed off hollowly before letting her eyes fall to the floor. "It's treason."
And Legolas nodded. He too felt empty. There was no joy in them left, only hurt. "Maybe we should stop," he said quietly, even though he knew that they couldn't. They had tried. Elbereth knew how hard they had tried, but it never lasted. They were both too emotionally needy to do so. "Does Faramir know?"
"He does," she replied. "And that's the worst thing of all." Her voice when she spoke had regained some feeling to it, and her whisper was like a trembling breath. "I tried to tell him last night. I couldn't bear to keep it from him any longer. But he wouldn't let me. He wouldn't let me say anything. I feel so guilty. Legolas, he could have wept when I tried to tell him. I could see the unshed tears in his eyes."
"And?" he asked gently, his voice soft but dead.
"I couldn't say it. I didn't. I couldn't. He's my husband."
"Perhaps the kindest thing to do then is to let him carry on with his pretence."
"But he knows. We're all acting, all three of us. It's like we're acting out a play, and we have no control over the script. It's ruining our lives, and all three of us know it, but..... we cant break out. No matter how hard we try, something keeps holding us back. And then we stop trying. Because it's no use. And so it continues."
And Legolas nodded. He knew the feeling all too well. How he hated it. But he felt as powerless as her to put an end to the cycle of decay.
"The lies. The pretence," she whispered, her voice trembling. "The whole wretched act......" she paused to steady herself for awhile, then gave up and covered her face, and Legolas watched helplessly as she sobbed quietly for awhile before she wilfully regained control of her demeanour. "He doesn't let himself believe it," she continued, her voice now hard with repressed emotion. "He won't let me say the words."
Legolas looked away and sighed. He felt rotten to the core. "I don't blame him."
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
At the age of four, Oremir was learning to ride, and although the child was rather slow in other aspects of his development, interacting with horses was something that came naturally to him. The pony he owned was his own, gifted to him as a baby by his parents as a celebration of his adoption. It was a charming little thing with a gleaming honey coat and kind dark eyes, and Oremir adored it to bits.
Already he could trot along on his own. Every day, Eowyn would saddle his horse and mount him on it, and then watch as he cantered about the little training ring that Faramir had had built for him. Slowly, as the child's confidence increased, Oremir grew bolder. He would often test his mount for it's speed, and gave his mother a great many flutterings of the heart as he barrelled wildly across the open gardens.
And then came the day he was to ride out with his father. For months before that, Oremir had begged and begged in that kiddy voice of his to accompany Faramir on a hunting expedition, till finally his wish was granted. But seeing that their child was still rather inexperienced, the couple had decided against a proper hunt. For his first expedition out in the open countryside, Oremir watched his father birding with a hunting hawk while he trotted obediently alongside his ever-watchful mother.
The hunt passed without incident, as did the next, and the next, and many hunts after that, and gradually the couple began to relax. By then, Oremir's skill on a horse was clear for all to see, a situation which Faramir teasingly declared to be worthy of any Rohirrim, and before long, Oremir had become a regular face in the Ithilien hunting party. And although initially Eowyn made it a point to ride with him during proper hunts, her health prevented her from joining them very often.
And she was always ill of late. It was as if the illness of her spirit had manifested itself physically in her diminishing strength, and she was growing weaker by the day. The strength of her spirit had broken and Faramir watched helplessly as the life drained out of her. Once again, she walked around with the glazed, pained expression that had first caught his attention in the Houses of Healing all those years ago. It seemed to him that she floated around like a ghost.
One day as she wandered aimlessly down the endless corridors, she heard a commotion in the courtyard, shortly followed by a woman's high pitched shriek. "Eowyn!" she suddenly heard Faramir bellow out from down below. "EOWYN!"
The urgency of his calls made her snap out of her trance, and as she gathered her skirts about her and ran towards the sound of his voice, she wondered was wrong. Just as she broke free of the main building however, she felt a multitude of hands anxious hands holding her back. "No, your grace," the faceless voices murmured. "You mustn't go there! That is no sight for a lady."
The words sent shivers down her spine. "What happened?" she whispered, dreading an ill reply.
"It's the young lord, your grace. He's had a hunting accident."
Images of Oremir, frightened and in pain, flashed before her eyes. For in instant, she froze, with the shock of it all, but then a madness overcame her, and she struggled and thrashed against the hands that held her down.
"No!" she cried. "Let me go!"
"You mustn't," the voices replied. "The sight would surely kill you, your grace. It is no sight for a fine lady."
"I am no fine lady! I am a shieldmaiden of Rohan," she cried as she finally broke free of them. By then, the procession of solemn, ashen faces had disappeared the building. They were probably carrying the injured lord to his chambers, and steeling herself, Eowyn hurried after them.
She found her husband kneeling by Oremir's bed, and although he tried to hide it from her, she could read the raw horror on his face. "Is he dead?" she whispered. Faramir shook his head. Hardly daring to look, she sat down gingerly on the side of the bed and carefully lifted the covers.
She would remember the sight for the rest of her life.
Oremir lay silently on the bed, still and unconscious as the living blood drained out of his slight, frail body. His hands and face were red with scratches, and across his stomach was an ugly gash.
"How?" she whispered, almost afraid to break the sacred silence. "And where is everyone? Why is nobody treating him! What happened to the churigeons? Save him!" Faramir shook his head helplessly. How could he tell his wife that the doctors had already given up hope?
Eowyn saw his face. "They're leaving him to die..... aren't they, Faramir."
"There's nothing they can do."
"They're leaving him to..... die....." she whispered, stunned, and then burst into tears. Before she knew it, Faramir was hugging her hard, shaking with the weight of his pain as he too wept in big gulping sobs. They clung desperately to each other and wailed, but Eowyn was the first to quieten herself.
"What about Legolas," she intoned. "Call for Legolas. It's his son. He needs to know."
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Back in Gondor, Legolas sat at the table and played with his food. His appetite had vanished. Somehow or other, he could not shake off the feeling that something was deathly wrong. He sighed and picked up his spoon again, but again, all he did was to push the vegetables around on his plate before setting his spoon down. What was wrong with him today? He wasn't usually this distracted. Reaching out, he grabbed his goblet and downed its contents, then sat it back down.
The4 goblet clicked loudly as it made contact with the table.
What was wrong? All around him, people were laughing and talking brightly as they enjoyed their meal, but their gaiety felt odd and out of place to him. Something was wrong. He just knew it.
He saw Aragorn rise from his place to join him. "I know that face, Legolas," the king asked quietly. "What do you sense?"
Legolas arranged a small smile. "I have no idea," he said. "I just feel..... that something's amiss."
Aragorn smiled reassuringly, and looked as if he were about to say more when a messenger burst into the great hall and fell at Legolas' feet. The elf recognised him as one of the higher ranking officials of Faramir's army.
"A message from Ithilien," the man gasped to Legolas. He still had not noticed the king presently seated to Legolas' right. "Lord Oremir is dying."
The news dealt Legolas a physical blow, and he doubled over with the force of it. //Oremir? Dying?\\ Legolas looked up, looked around, but it seemed the whole world had swam out of focus. Sounds were blurred and heavy, the very air itself seemed to grow thick, and everyone moved as if they struggled through a heavy translucent liquid. His whole world stopped for an instant.
Oremir? Dying? Impossible! Legolas had just returned from Ithilien barely a month ago, and when he had left, Oremir was a playful, bubbly, contented child. His son was in the pink of health. How could this be?
Dying? Lies! All lies! It could not be. It must not be! How can it be? The boy was so young, so young, just a child..... a healthy, happy child. Didn't Eowyn and Faramir take good care of him? Didn't he have enough to eat? Didn't he live his days surrounded by love from his adoptive parents? He could not die. He must not die!
Legolas raised a hand to his throat. "What happened?" he choked.
"The young lord was injured in a hunting accident. He doesn't have long to live. You must hurry if you want to reach him in time. He might already be dead. I'm sorry, your grace. I wasn't able to save him. A boar spooked his horse, and young as he was, he fell off. I tried to help him, truly I did, but the boar got to him first. There were so many of us, and we tried, we really did, but..... his screams, your grace..... they were terrible. He screamed out for his father, but mostly for his mother and his ada. Oh, your grace....."
Legolas could see the tears in the messenger's eyes. He knew the man loved the young lord with god-like devotion. That was the way with his son. Wherever he went, Oremir was surrounded by people who adored him. By people who would give their life for him.
And he was dying.
He felt Aragorn looking at him, shocked. "Ada? Oremir's your son?"
"Yes, Aragorn," he whispered in elvish. "My son. I birthed him."
"Your highness!" The messenger breathed, finally noticing the king. "Your highness, please help us. You have the healing hands of the king. You healed Lord Faramir and his lady when everyone else had given up hope, maybe you can heal Lord Oremir as well. I know I have no business asking favours of your highness, but please. I beg of you. I love the young lord. I can't tell you how much joy he brings to the entire estate. Please, your highness, help us."
"I don't know what I can do."
"Aragorn," Legolas begged. "I can't loose him, Aragorn. Please. At least try. Help him. He's my son, Aragorn. Don't let him die. Please don't let him die. I can't loose him."
Aragorn nodded briskly. "Get the horses ready," he ordered. "We're leaving immediately."
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okay, okay, I'm evil. The sex scene was to show the degeneration, that all three of them are just living a lie. I'm not making a judgement about pre/extra marital sex. Sometimes things happen, that's part of life, live with it. But the point of this is that they are doing it for all the wrong reasons. Their emotional needs are not met, they're both miserable, and for them it's a form of escapism. They might as well be doing drugs, they way they approach their affair. They're doing drugs, they're literally addicted to it and they both need help.
Also, I totally crapped about a peredhil's development. I'm pretty sure a peredhil grows up like any ordinary elf, but that if that was the case then Faramir and Eowyn would grow old taking care of him and it's would fit with the plot so I twisted the thing a little. Okay, okay, I twisted it a lot. Gomen! ^_^;
=D
Anonymous: oooh, chappie 13 up. yeah, I'm doing review responses before the fic cos there's no point in doing it after for chappie 13. it'll change everything. And yeah, he did give it to Eowyn n Faramir. It was a rather new idea tho..... I only thought of it after Junior was born. Lol! But it works and the twisty turnies get even twistier and twistier.....
Mel: simple. They don't. oh, actually Aragorn does, right at the very end of this chappie, but he isn't given a chance to react at all. Nobody will ever know it's leggy's kid. Yes, I am evil. =P
Tap Dancing Widow: hmmmm..... well, good point. But then again, the Galadrial of the books was rather domesticated. I mean, I remember that she played a part in weaving or sewing the cloaks that the Fellowship wore. Back in the medieval times, the women of nobility did just about that. They'd sew, they'd manage their husband's household and they'd entertain guests. That was their main role. The galadrial of the movies is such an enlightened chick she kicks book galadrial's butt. Hmmm..... the meeting didn't really concern her, did it? I had Aragorn call out the Fellowship cos they are the people he would have been most intimate with over the past few months, and Elrond cos he's always struck me as Ada's liddle boy. The only reason Faramir and Eowyn were there was cos the kid was given to them.
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Warning: Male Pregnancy Fic. And MUAHAHAHA, There is a small little 'sex scene' at the very start.
Gondor: With the onset of labour, Legolas can no longer remain in denial about his pregnancy. RoTK, post coronation but before Faramir marries Eowyn. Movieverse, cos bookleggy isn't so fun to toy around with. He'll kill me before I even *think* about messing with him. Movieleggy is much MUCH more fun to bully..... Also starring Faramir & Eowyn, with some reminders of Boromir thrown in.
And as before, //..... \\ indicates a person's thoughts. (Responses to reviews at bottom.)
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Life!
Chapter 13
Eowyn's breath came fast and shallow as her body swayed to the rhythm of his thrusts. Her lips were parted, her eyelids fluttered. "Legolas," she gasped breathily, as she clawed the smooth of his back. But though he was tempted to do the same; to dig his nails deep into her shoulders or to sink his teeth into her porcelain skin, he dared not. He dared not leave the slightest mark on her body for Faramir to see.
Three years had passed since the wedding, three whole years since Legolas had surrendered his rights over his son, and for three long years, he had watched Oremir from afar as the child blossomed into a healthy toddler. That the boy was a peredhil was plain to see: his features declared him to be an elf, but his development was that of a human child. Well, slightly slower than a human child actually, and Legolas could sometimes sense Oremir's frustration as he struggled to learn more about the world around him than his mental capabilities would allow at so tender an age.
The couple had neither the heart to keep him from his son, nor to deny Oremir his true father, and as a kindly gesture, they welcomed him into their Ithilien home. They were unthinkably good to him, and Legolas knew that. They even let Oremir address him as 'Ada'. It was a hollow phrase to Oremir though. The boy did not realise it's elvish meaning, and to his son it was no more than a name, but the elf was grateful for even that small concession.
Legolas felt his thoughts drawn forcibly back to the present as a tightening in his body heralded his oncoming climax. And Eowyn read the signs. Reaching upwards to draw his head down, she sealed her lips tightly across his, forcefully muffling the sounds of their passion.
Much as they would have loved to linger in each other's arms, they parted hurriedly and straightened themselves, although Legolas allowed himself to relax momentarily as he watched her don her dress. The melancholy that so became her during the war still remained etched upon her features, but this time it had a different cause.
"Legolas," she whispered as she sat down on her bed. She pushed aside her hair and waited patiently as he redid the ties of her garment, then gave him a small smile when he kissed her. "Legolas," she began again. "What we're doing....." she trailed off hollowly before letting her eyes fall to the floor. "It's treason."
And Legolas nodded. He too felt empty. There was no joy in them left, only hurt. "Maybe we should stop," he said quietly, even though he knew that they couldn't. They had tried. Elbereth knew how hard they had tried, but it never lasted. They were both too emotionally needy to do so. "Does Faramir know?"
"He does," she replied. "And that's the worst thing of all." Her voice when she spoke had regained some feeling to it, and her whisper was like a trembling breath. "I tried to tell him last night. I couldn't bear to keep it from him any longer. But he wouldn't let me. He wouldn't let me say anything. I feel so guilty. Legolas, he could have wept when I tried to tell him. I could see the unshed tears in his eyes."
"And?" he asked gently, his voice soft but dead.
"I couldn't say it. I didn't. I couldn't. He's my husband."
"Perhaps the kindest thing to do then is to let him carry on with his pretence."
"But he knows. We're all acting, all three of us. It's like we're acting out a play, and we have no control over the script. It's ruining our lives, and all three of us know it, but..... we cant break out. No matter how hard we try, something keeps holding us back. And then we stop trying. Because it's no use. And so it continues."
And Legolas nodded. He knew the feeling all too well. How he hated it. But he felt as powerless as her to put an end to the cycle of decay.
"The lies. The pretence," she whispered, her voice trembling. "The whole wretched act......" she paused to steady herself for awhile, then gave up and covered her face, and Legolas watched helplessly as she sobbed quietly for awhile before she wilfully regained control of her demeanour. "He doesn't let himself believe it," she continued, her voice now hard with repressed emotion. "He won't let me say the words."
Legolas looked away and sighed. He felt rotten to the core. "I don't blame him."
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
At the age of four, Oremir was learning to ride, and although the child was rather slow in other aspects of his development, interacting with horses was something that came naturally to him. The pony he owned was his own, gifted to him as a baby by his parents as a celebration of his adoption. It was a charming little thing with a gleaming honey coat and kind dark eyes, and Oremir adored it to bits.
Already he could trot along on his own. Every day, Eowyn would saddle his horse and mount him on it, and then watch as he cantered about the little training ring that Faramir had had built for him. Slowly, as the child's confidence increased, Oremir grew bolder. He would often test his mount for it's speed, and gave his mother a great many flutterings of the heart as he barrelled wildly across the open gardens.
And then came the day he was to ride out with his father. For months before that, Oremir had begged and begged in that kiddy voice of his to accompany Faramir on a hunting expedition, till finally his wish was granted. But seeing that their child was still rather inexperienced, the couple had decided against a proper hunt. For his first expedition out in the open countryside, Oremir watched his father birding with a hunting hawk while he trotted obediently alongside his ever-watchful mother.
The hunt passed without incident, as did the next, and the next, and many hunts after that, and gradually the couple began to relax. By then, Oremir's skill on a horse was clear for all to see, a situation which Faramir teasingly declared to be worthy of any Rohirrim, and before long, Oremir had become a regular face in the Ithilien hunting party. And although initially Eowyn made it a point to ride with him during proper hunts, her health prevented her from joining them very often.
And she was always ill of late. It was as if the illness of her spirit had manifested itself physically in her diminishing strength, and she was growing weaker by the day. The strength of her spirit had broken and Faramir watched helplessly as the life drained out of her. Once again, she walked around with the glazed, pained expression that had first caught his attention in the Houses of Healing all those years ago. It seemed to him that she floated around like a ghost.
One day as she wandered aimlessly down the endless corridors, she heard a commotion in the courtyard, shortly followed by a woman's high pitched shriek. "Eowyn!" she suddenly heard Faramir bellow out from down below. "EOWYN!"
The urgency of his calls made her snap out of her trance, and as she gathered her skirts about her and ran towards the sound of his voice, she wondered was wrong. Just as she broke free of the main building however, she felt a multitude of hands anxious hands holding her back. "No, your grace," the faceless voices murmured. "You mustn't go there! That is no sight for a lady."
The words sent shivers down her spine. "What happened?" she whispered, dreading an ill reply.
"It's the young lord, your grace. He's had a hunting accident."
Images of Oremir, frightened and in pain, flashed before her eyes. For in instant, she froze, with the shock of it all, but then a madness overcame her, and she struggled and thrashed against the hands that held her down.
"No!" she cried. "Let me go!"
"You mustn't," the voices replied. "The sight would surely kill you, your grace. It is no sight for a fine lady."
"I am no fine lady! I am a shieldmaiden of Rohan," she cried as she finally broke free of them. By then, the procession of solemn, ashen faces had disappeared the building. They were probably carrying the injured lord to his chambers, and steeling herself, Eowyn hurried after them.
She found her husband kneeling by Oremir's bed, and although he tried to hide it from her, she could read the raw horror on his face. "Is he dead?" she whispered. Faramir shook his head. Hardly daring to look, she sat down gingerly on the side of the bed and carefully lifted the covers.
She would remember the sight for the rest of her life.
Oremir lay silently on the bed, still and unconscious as the living blood drained out of his slight, frail body. His hands and face were red with scratches, and across his stomach was an ugly gash.
"How?" she whispered, almost afraid to break the sacred silence. "And where is everyone? Why is nobody treating him! What happened to the churigeons? Save him!" Faramir shook his head helplessly. How could he tell his wife that the doctors had already given up hope?
Eowyn saw his face. "They're leaving him to die..... aren't they, Faramir."
"There's nothing they can do."
"They're leaving him to..... die....." she whispered, stunned, and then burst into tears. Before she knew it, Faramir was hugging her hard, shaking with the weight of his pain as he too wept in big gulping sobs. They clung desperately to each other and wailed, but Eowyn was the first to quieten herself.
"What about Legolas," she intoned. "Call for Legolas. It's his son. He needs to know."
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Back in Gondor, Legolas sat at the table and played with his food. His appetite had vanished. Somehow or other, he could not shake off the feeling that something was deathly wrong. He sighed and picked up his spoon again, but again, all he did was to push the vegetables around on his plate before setting his spoon down. What was wrong with him today? He wasn't usually this distracted. Reaching out, he grabbed his goblet and downed its contents, then sat it back down.
The4 goblet clicked loudly as it made contact with the table.
What was wrong? All around him, people were laughing and talking brightly as they enjoyed their meal, but their gaiety felt odd and out of place to him. Something was wrong. He just knew it.
He saw Aragorn rise from his place to join him. "I know that face, Legolas," the king asked quietly. "What do you sense?"
Legolas arranged a small smile. "I have no idea," he said. "I just feel..... that something's amiss."
Aragorn smiled reassuringly, and looked as if he were about to say more when a messenger burst into the great hall and fell at Legolas' feet. The elf recognised him as one of the higher ranking officials of Faramir's army.
"A message from Ithilien," the man gasped to Legolas. He still had not noticed the king presently seated to Legolas' right. "Lord Oremir is dying."
The news dealt Legolas a physical blow, and he doubled over with the force of it. //Oremir? Dying?\\ Legolas looked up, looked around, but it seemed the whole world had swam out of focus. Sounds were blurred and heavy, the very air itself seemed to grow thick, and everyone moved as if they struggled through a heavy translucent liquid. His whole world stopped for an instant.
Oremir? Dying? Impossible! Legolas had just returned from Ithilien barely a month ago, and when he had left, Oremir was a playful, bubbly, contented child. His son was in the pink of health. How could this be?
Dying? Lies! All lies! It could not be. It must not be! How can it be? The boy was so young, so young, just a child..... a healthy, happy child. Didn't Eowyn and Faramir take good care of him? Didn't he have enough to eat? Didn't he live his days surrounded by love from his adoptive parents? He could not die. He must not die!
Legolas raised a hand to his throat. "What happened?" he choked.
"The young lord was injured in a hunting accident. He doesn't have long to live. You must hurry if you want to reach him in time. He might already be dead. I'm sorry, your grace. I wasn't able to save him. A boar spooked his horse, and young as he was, he fell off. I tried to help him, truly I did, but the boar got to him first. There were so many of us, and we tried, we really did, but..... his screams, your grace..... they were terrible. He screamed out for his father, but mostly for his mother and his ada. Oh, your grace....."
Legolas could see the tears in the messenger's eyes. He knew the man loved the young lord with god-like devotion. That was the way with his son. Wherever he went, Oremir was surrounded by people who adored him. By people who would give their life for him.
And he was dying.
He felt Aragorn looking at him, shocked. "Ada? Oremir's your son?"
"Yes, Aragorn," he whispered in elvish. "My son. I birthed him."
"Your highness!" The messenger breathed, finally noticing the king. "Your highness, please help us. You have the healing hands of the king. You healed Lord Faramir and his lady when everyone else had given up hope, maybe you can heal Lord Oremir as well. I know I have no business asking favours of your highness, but please. I beg of you. I love the young lord. I can't tell you how much joy he brings to the entire estate. Please, your highness, help us."
"I don't know what I can do."
"Aragorn," Legolas begged. "I can't loose him, Aragorn. Please. At least try. Help him. He's my son, Aragorn. Don't let him die. Please don't let him die. I can't loose him."
Aragorn nodded briskly. "Get the horses ready," he ordered. "We're leaving immediately."
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okay, okay, I'm evil. The sex scene was to show the degeneration, that all three of them are just living a lie. I'm not making a judgement about pre/extra marital sex. Sometimes things happen, that's part of life, live with it. But the point of this is that they are doing it for all the wrong reasons. Their emotional needs are not met, they're both miserable, and for them it's a form of escapism. They might as well be doing drugs, they way they approach their affair. They're doing drugs, they're literally addicted to it and they both need help.
Also, I totally crapped about a peredhil's development. I'm pretty sure a peredhil grows up like any ordinary elf, but that if that was the case then Faramir and Eowyn would grow old taking care of him and it's would fit with the plot so I twisted the thing a little. Okay, okay, I twisted it a lot. Gomen! ^_^;