"But how is it even possible," Legolas demanded, "There is no way that El-
I mean, Lord Elrond- could be with child! He is male!"
Aragorn shrugged and decided not to do it again. Staring up into the boughs of majestic old oaks was guaranteed to give a man a crick in the neck; shrugging only made things worse. "He says that some male elves do have the ability and it is not unheard of. It seems rare, however, from all I have read."
Legolas hid his face in a clump of foliage. "He must be insane. Or maybe I am. Or maybe all of us are and we're only imaging it," the Sylvan elf muttered darkly, "Maybe it is something in the wine."
Aragorn pricked up his ears at that. Elrond had mentioned his wine was drugged with a fertility potion on the night that he- no, he refused to imagine it- slept with someone else who he was beginning to think was Legolas. "Mellon nin, will you please come down from there?"
"Why must I come down? You can come up!"
"And now you sound like a young child," the mortal rebuked, "No one would imagine you were an elf a thousand years into his majority if they saw and heard you now."
Legolas growled the equivalent instructions in the Common Tongue for Aragorn to try to procreate with himself. Though not normally given to foul language, the Mirkwood Prince had spent enough time with soldiers and captured orcs to know a few pungent phrases. But eventually, after a few minutes of relieving his frustrations, he leapt down as gracefully as he had leapt up, landing on his feet with cat-like precision.
Aragorn hid a grin and wrapped a comforting arm around his friend's shoulders. Taking him to a private corner of Elrond's personal gardens, he sat him down on the grass and simply looked at him. Legolas was a private person by nature, even with his friends, but when he was upset he would seize the first opportunity to seek advice.
"He said he was pregnant," the elf sighed, "I do not understand. Is he speaking the truth or does he lie? How is such a thing possible?"
"He is not lying," Aragorn supplied quietly, "And I have read as much as his library contains on the subject. Certain male elves do have the 'Gift of the Valar' as it used to be called. It was more common during the First Age when war was rife and children were needed to carry on the family line. But it eventually died out, and only certain males still have it. Lord Elrond seems to be one of them."
"How has he not known all this time?"
Aragorn debated the wisdom of revealing things he had no right to tell of. Making up his mind, he took Legolas' hand and led him back to the study. They passed Glorfindel again on the way and stopped for a minute as the seneschal said a sympathetic word of understanding to the shell-shocked younger elf.
"Come," Aragorn encouraged, tugging harder as they neared the door. "Legolas, asking me questions will not help! You must speak to him."
"But I really do not want to," Legolas pleaded desperately, "He said it was mine."
"And do you doubt him?"
"It cannot be! I do not impregnate male elves!"
"Did you not take him? I know you mysteriously disappeared on a few nights two months ago when you visited unexpectedly. I know Lord Elrond was acting strangely during that time. And I know you were very worried yesterday when he was ill."
"It was only once," Legolas babbled, "I only asked because I wanted to know what it would be like! But touching heaven does not result in my lover carrying my child! It should not! Oh Valar, I... Elrond, melethron, what have I done to you?"
Elrond looked down in consternation at the figure kneeling before him, Legolas' face buried in his lap and tears soaking freely into his robes. Looking up, Aragorn only smiled and excused himself.
"I am sorry, melme. Forgive me, I did not know! I never imagined! It's all my fault, Elrond, but do not hate me for it."
"Legolas, I do not hate you at all," Elrond murmured, at a loss but tentatively stroking the fair head in his lap, "And I really have no idea why you think I will."
Tear-clouded blue eyes glanced up at him before looking away again. "Because I, um... did what I did?"
"You refer to my condition?"
"Yes."
Elrond sighed and took the fair face in his hands. He shook his head, privately regretted the action, and looked stern. "I am pregnant, Legolas. The child is yours. There is no need for secrecy between us."
The younger elf nodded and bit his lip. It wasn't that he was a coward, per say, or even that he disliked the idea of children. But to father a child with another male was simply embarrassing; that he had done so with an Elf Lord as revered as Lord Elrond was shocking. And the thought of the coming months made things harder.
"Aragorn knows, and Glorfindel," he counted slowly, "And by that I think Arwen and Erestor are also aware of it. Do Elladan and Elrohir know of the problem?"
Elrond paled at the artless choice of words but accepted it meekly. "Yes. No one else, however; and I would prefer it that way. Indeed, I have not aborted the child yet because you deserved to know first."
"Abort?" Why did Legolas feel that he did not like that word?
"There is a certain poison I can swallow that will bring about a miscarriage," the Elder explained, his hand unconsciously tightening on a handful of golden hair, "I will be unwell for a week but there are others who can continue with my duties until I may once more leave my bed."
Oh. That was why. Legolas shook his head in displeasure. "I do not like the idea," he confessed, "It seems... faintly wrong."
"Would you like me to have the child?"
"I would not know what to do with it!"
"Then I suggest we solve the 'problem' my way." Having growled at his lover, decided to take the potion for what felt like the hundredth time in the last two weeks, and felt frustrated with his own moroseness at the feeling of loss in his soul, Elrond abruptly shoved Legolas out of his lap and turned back to his work. "I trust you can find your way out of my study?"
Legolas stared up at the averted face. But the Lord of Imladris would not look at him, choosing instead to glare at an innocent book of herbs before him with a frown as black as a thundercloud. Seconds ticked by in maddening frequency and a stifled laugh finally broke through the heavy air.
Startled, both stared at each other and then Legolas surged to his feet and bounded to the window. Grasping at the shape there, he tossed the helplessly chuckling figure into the centre of the room.
Elrond stared at the dark blue eyes with something that felt like cold dread.
Legolas stared in dumbfound bewilderment.
And the soldier clad in the rainment of a guard of Lothlorien shook his dark head and continued to laugh while his blue eyes misted with tears of mirth and his slender frame shook with the hilarity of the situation he had just witnessed.
"Well," he finally settled on, rising to his feet and confronting the Elf Lord still frozen in his seat, "When I came to see my children, I did not expect to find such a truly marvellous state of affairs, melethron. And to think it is not even my doing this time!"
Aragorn shrugged and decided not to do it again. Staring up into the boughs of majestic old oaks was guaranteed to give a man a crick in the neck; shrugging only made things worse. "He says that some male elves do have the ability and it is not unheard of. It seems rare, however, from all I have read."
Legolas hid his face in a clump of foliage. "He must be insane. Or maybe I am. Or maybe all of us are and we're only imaging it," the Sylvan elf muttered darkly, "Maybe it is something in the wine."
Aragorn pricked up his ears at that. Elrond had mentioned his wine was drugged with a fertility potion on the night that he- no, he refused to imagine it- slept with someone else who he was beginning to think was Legolas. "Mellon nin, will you please come down from there?"
"Why must I come down? You can come up!"
"And now you sound like a young child," the mortal rebuked, "No one would imagine you were an elf a thousand years into his majority if they saw and heard you now."
Legolas growled the equivalent instructions in the Common Tongue for Aragorn to try to procreate with himself. Though not normally given to foul language, the Mirkwood Prince had spent enough time with soldiers and captured orcs to know a few pungent phrases. But eventually, after a few minutes of relieving his frustrations, he leapt down as gracefully as he had leapt up, landing on his feet with cat-like precision.
Aragorn hid a grin and wrapped a comforting arm around his friend's shoulders. Taking him to a private corner of Elrond's personal gardens, he sat him down on the grass and simply looked at him. Legolas was a private person by nature, even with his friends, but when he was upset he would seize the first opportunity to seek advice.
"He said he was pregnant," the elf sighed, "I do not understand. Is he speaking the truth or does he lie? How is such a thing possible?"
"He is not lying," Aragorn supplied quietly, "And I have read as much as his library contains on the subject. Certain male elves do have the 'Gift of the Valar' as it used to be called. It was more common during the First Age when war was rife and children were needed to carry on the family line. But it eventually died out, and only certain males still have it. Lord Elrond seems to be one of them."
"How has he not known all this time?"
Aragorn debated the wisdom of revealing things he had no right to tell of. Making up his mind, he took Legolas' hand and led him back to the study. They passed Glorfindel again on the way and stopped for a minute as the seneschal said a sympathetic word of understanding to the shell-shocked younger elf.
"Come," Aragorn encouraged, tugging harder as they neared the door. "Legolas, asking me questions will not help! You must speak to him."
"But I really do not want to," Legolas pleaded desperately, "He said it was mine."
"And do you doubt him?"
"It cannot be! I do not impregnate male elves!"
"Did you not take him? I know you mysteriously disappeared on a few nights two months ago when you visited unexpectedly. I know Lord Elrond was acting strangely during that time. And I know you were very worried yesterday when he was ill."
"It was only once," Legolas babbled, "I only asked because I wanted to know what it would be like! But touching heaven does not result in my lover carrying my child! It should not! Oh Valar, I... Elrond, melethron, what have I done to you?"
Elrond looked down in consternation at the figure kneeling before him, Legolas' face buried in his lap and tears soaking freely into his robes. Looking up, Aragorn only smiled and excused himself.
"I am sorry, melme. Forgive me, I did not know! I never imagined! It's all my fault, Elrond, but do not hate me for it."
"Legolas, I do not hate you at all," Elrond murmured, at a loss but tentatively stroking the fair head in his lap, "And I really have no idea why you think I will."
Tear-clouded blue eyes glanced up at him before looking away again. "Because I, um... did what I did?"
"You refer to my condition?"
"Yes."
Elrond sighed and took the fair face in his hands. He shook his head, privately regretted the action, and looked stern. "I am pregnant, Legolas. The child is yours. There is no need for secrecy between us."
The younger elf nodded and bit his lip. It wasn't that he was a coward, per say, or even that he disliked the idea of children. But to father a child with another male was simply embarrassing; that he had done so with an Elf Lord as revered as Lord Elrond was shocking. And the thought of the coming months made things harder.
"Aragorn knows, and Glorfindel," he counted slowly, "And by that I think Arwen and Erestor are also aware of it. Do Elladan and Elrohir know of the problem?"
Elrond paled at the artless choice of words but accepted it meekly. "Yes. No one else, however; and I would prefer it that way. Indeed, I have not aborted the child yet because you deserved to know first."
"Abort?" Why did Legolas feel that he did not like that word?
"There is a certain poison I can swallow that will bring about a miscarriage," the Elder explained, his hand unconsciously tightening on a handful of golden hair, "I will be unwell for a week but there are others who can continue with my duties until I may once more leave my bed."
Oh. That was why. Legolas shook his head in displeasure. "I do not like the idea," he confessed, "It seems... faintly wrong."
"Would you like me to have the child?"
"I would not know what to do with it!"
"Then I suggest we solve the 'problem' my way." Having growled at his lover, decided to take the potion for what felt like the hundredth time in the last two weeks, and felt frustrated with his own moroseness at the feeling of loss in his soul, Elrond abruptly shoved Legolas out of his lap and turned back to his work. "I trust you can find your way out of my study?"
Legolas stared up at the averted face. But the Lord of Imladris would not look at him, choosing instead to glare at an innocent book of herbs before him with a frown as black as a thundercloud. Seconds ticked by in maddening frequency and a stifled laugh finally broke through the heavy air.
Startled, both stared at each other and then Legolas surged to his feet and bounded to the window. Grasping at the shape there, he tossed the helplessly chuckling figure into the centre of the room.
Elrond stared at the dark blue eyes with something that felt like cold dread.
Legolas stared in dumbfound bewilderment.
And the soldier clad in the rainment of a guard of Lothlorien shook his dark head and continued to laugh while his blue eyes misted with tears of mirth and his slender frame shook with the hilarity of the situation he had just witnessed.
"Well," he finally settled on, rising to his feet and confronting the Elf Lord still frozen in his seat, "When I came to see my children, I did not expect to find such a truly marvellous state of affairs, melethron. And to think it is not even my doing this time!"