Author's Note: Generally fluffy. But it is the fifth month now. And more of the plan is being revealed.

--------------------------------------------------

"Come riding with me," Glorfindel said tersely.

Aurief looked up from his book in the library and glanced at Elrond's averted face before shaking his head. "Thank you but no. I do not plan to ride today."

"I think you should," Glorfindel insisted, flexing his fingers in readiness to physically press his point, "The fresh air will do us all good."

Aurief simply ignored the seneschal and went back to his book. Elrond glanced behind and caught the glint of dark glee in his old friend's eyes just a second before a dagger was at the Lorien elf's throat.

"I insist," Glorfindel murmured pleasantly.

"Glorfindel!"

"Turn your head, my Lord, and your conscience will not trouble you." Aurief's face darkened to pure anger for a second and then deadened again. He stood up with a shrug and carelessly dropped the delicate book on the floor. The dagger bit deeper into his skin. "Give me one last reason to cry insult and I will slit your throat," Glorfindel warned softly.

Elrond carefully looked in the opposite direction. He heard the door open and the sounds of noiseless footsteps. He heard the door shut and then the absolute quiet of a room empty for all save him. He let out a relieved breath, and then choked as the door crashed open on its hinges.

"Ada!"

"Yes, Arwen?"

"What exactly are you doing here?" the elf-maiden demanded, folding her arms while her grey eyes flashed with vengeful ire.

Elrond contemplated the papers in front of him and then looked enquiringly back at his daughter. What did it look like he was doing? Baking a cake? "Working," he answered clearly, as if talking to a slow-witted child.

"I see. And was I hearing voices when Elladan and Elrohir told you to stay in your bed this morning?"

"Arwen, if you do not know the answer to that, then I certainly won't. I do not know if you are mad. I have enough to worry about without dealing with insane daughters who hear voices. Go tell Aragorn; I'm sure he will kiss it and make it all better."

"A-DA!"

"Arwen, saes! Do not shout!"

"What in Mordor is going on?" Erestor demanded, running in with his braids flying. "Who is killing whom?"

"No one is killing anyone," Elrond howled, throwing down his quill and feeling his rage increase a hundred-fold when the document he had been working on so carefully the whole morning was splattered with ink drops, "For the love of Elbereth, will everyone just leave me in peace!"

"That's it," Legolas growled, stalking in, "everyone- out! Now!"

Having the Lord of Imladris screaming at you in a rage was terrifying enough; having his extremely possessive lover glare at you with bow and arrow in hand was sufficient to make both Arwen and Erestor abandon whatever purpose they had in mind when they entered the room and exit very quietly.

Neither Prince nor Lord relaxed until after the door was shut and not opened again for the space of ten heartbeats. Then they turned to each other and stared appraisingly.

"Legolas, what are you doing here?" Elrond sighed, trying to control his sifting emotions.

"I was on my way to practise my archery," Legolas returned quietly, "And you are not supposed to be here. I left you alone because you promised me that you would stay in bed and not get out until Elladan had seen you again. It is the fifth month, melme, and the pregnancy is a difficult one. Do you really mean to endanger your life and the life of our child on a whim?"

"Legolas, I am skilled enough to judge when it safe for me to leave my bed," Elrond groaned, feeling an unaccustomed desire to burst into tears. Even Celebrian and his first healer had not been so constricting. "I would never hurt our daughter! How can you think so little of me as to believe that?"

"Melme, I do not think that at all," the archer gasped hurriedly, chucking his bow to the side and kneeling at the stricken half-elf's feet, "Oh Valar, do not cry! Not again! You know I have no skills to deal with this. Hush, now. It's all right. Ssh!"

Once the unforgettable sight of a weeping Elf Lord comforted by a reed-slim archer was over, Legolas sat back and looked away considerately while Elrond pulled himself together. That his lover hated giving in to such urges was understandable; no warrior would like to be in such an emotionally vulnerable position. For where would the world be if every elf in the Last Alliance of Elves and Men had burst into tears on the battlefield from the horrors of war? Though the troops of Sauron might still have been defeated; they would have died laughing at such a ridiculous sight!

Wracking his brains to think of ways to change the subject, he fixed on one particular point that had been bothering him for a long time- "Elrond, how do you know you carry a girl?"

Grey eyes looked up and then Elrond shrugged. "She is inside me; I can tell. Besides, I have foreseen it," he explained, "In a dream. She will be beautiful. And wonderful. And very much our daughter!"

Blue eyes went wide in awed wonder as Legolas sat back on his heels. "She will? Tell me more. What will she look like? Did you see her? What colour is her hair, her eyes... what does her voice sound like?"

"She will save our kind," Elrond interrupted quietly, a look of immeasurable sadness on his face, "She has a dark future, Legolas. It is her burden to bear it. We can only help her until her journey begins but then I think she will leave us. I do not know what she will face, but the journey she must make is hard. I saw death in her eyes as well."

A single tear dripped down the fair cheek as Legolas looked to the small mound where his daughter slowly grew, unknowing of what her destiny was as she curled safe within her parent's body. Without words he stretched out his hand and slender fingers grasped them tight, bringing them to rest on the cloth-covered bump.

"Is there no hope?"

"There is always hope."

"And what is the hope?"

"I have no idea."

"Then how is there hope?"

Elrond glared down at Legolas, but felt his anger melt away at the sight of the grief-stricken face. It had become a habit to forget that the Mirkwood Prince was little more than a youth himself. Only a thousand years into his majority, if Elrond remembered right- and he did- while Elrond himself was over four thousand years into fatherhood itself. And he had borne his children fairly late in his life!

Just wonderful, the Elf Lord thought hysterically, gathering the slight body closer to him, I seduced a child and now we're having our own child. A child is the father of my child and the Valar had better make next year worth all this effort! Perhaps, he decided somewhat desperately, Glorfindel might send up a prayer on his behalf; the Vanyan had, after all, met Mandos himself. They might actually listen to him.

"She will have my hair," he crooned, "But your eyes- blue as the sky and filled with the fire of life. She will love the trees like you do, and they will love her in their turn. There will be happiness for her, melamin. And she will regret nothing in her life."

Legolas nodded and worked his fingers tighter around the handfuls of robe he held in his clenched fists. His heart ached for what his child might have to endure. The world was plunging into darkness around his ears; he could feel it, hear it, smell it on the breeze. It hurt so much to know that his daughter carried the weight of Middle Earth on her tiny little shoulders before she had even been born.

Desperately he raised his head, staring intently up into his consoler's face as Elrond opened his mouth to utter soothing platitudes. Words? There was no place here for words as far as Legolas was concerned. Forgetting rhyme and reason he surged up and captured the other male's lips with his, spearing his tongue into the open mouth and demanding the kiss be reciprocated.

Elrond squeaked and stiffened, his senses thrown into a tail-spin by this sudden turn of events.

The door opened, twin shouts were uttered, and the door closed again.

Legolas pulled away for two reasons- Elrond desperately needed to breathe and he wanted to know who their intruders had been. Absently listening to his love pant like a goldfish out of water, he called for the two to enter again.

The door cracked open and two pairs of suspicious grey eyes looked in with identical dark frowns.

"Need you both do that in the library?" Elrohir demanded, "Anyone might have walked in and then everyone in Imladris would know."

"And why would that be a problem," Legolas snapped, rising to his feet and folding his arms aggressively.

Elladan rolled his eyes and pushed past his brother. Ignoring Legolas all together, he looked around the blond to his father still sitting in the chair with his mouth open. "Ada? How do you feel?"

"Dazed," came the reply.

"See?" Elrohir broke in, wagging a finger at Legolas, "You've sent him insane."

"I'll send you somewhere too, and it will look like the Halls of Mandos if you don't stop acting ridiculous," Legolas retorted.

Elrohir snorted but stayed his tongue when Elladan shot him a warning look. The older twin bent over his father. A gentle tap on the lightly bronzed cheek and silvery grey eyes looked up with mild enquiry. "Ada, how many fingers am I holding up?"

"I would tell you but there are too many," Elrond muttered, a hand rising to his head.

"I thought so," Elladan chuckled, "If you can stand up, I'll help you back to bed. Thank the Valar that Arwen came to find me when she did. You might have passed out in the library and then no one would have found you for the whole day."

"I can't think why this happens," Elrond moaned, his head spinning as he got to his feet. The first step might have sent him tumbling back down if not for the strong arms that held him up.

"Is there pain this time? No? That's good then. Come, Ada; one step at a time. Legolas, might I ask for a favour?"

"Anything," the blond swore fervently, startled that a simple kiss had had this reaction.

"Would you not kiss him for the rest of the day?" Elladan asked sardonically, "I don't think even Ada's strength will stand this twice in one day."

And in spite of all the efforts to keep the pregnant Lord of Imladris and his child safe from all harm- apart from such things as headaches, cravings for nuts and swollen ankles which really couldn't be helped- away into the thick of the woods a certain plan was being discussed. It was a plan that involved the child borne safely back to bed in her father's body, and the plan involved the capture of the Elf Lord who bore her.

But again, in spite of the best laid plans of mice and men and Lothlorien guards, the Lady Galadriel looked into her mirror and frowned slightly. She stared for some measure of time before looking away and mulling it over in her mind.

Then she proceeded to look for her husband. Calling his name in her mind, she ran him to ground in the State Room.

The silver head rose and looked towards her. Haldir and Orophin melted away out the door and the Lord of Lothlorien rose to take his wife's hand in concern. "What is it?" he questioned, handing her into a chair, "You have seen something in your mirror?"

She nodded and looked up with her wise eyes. "It is Elrond, he is once more with child."

"With child? Well, that is not our concern. Celebrian is many centuries in Valinor and we have no reason to interfere."

"I do not talk of this for interference's sake but there is danger," Galadriel insisted, "Aurief is with him."

Celeborn's face changed. The two were so attuned to each other's ways of thinking that instantly the male elf knew what lay in his love's mind. "He means harm to Elrond and the child, I take it. Does he seek revenge?"

"No, and that is what surprises me," the lady admitted, one fair hand rising to absently play with the delicate mithril pendant hung around her neck, "He will not harm them himself. But he plots to help those who want the child, Celeborn. And he does it for money."