So everyone knows, three years pass between chapters two and three.
Just so everyone knows...yeah.
~Phe-chan
Chapter Three: Baiting
Gil-galad woke alone, disturbed by a faint sound that he could not place. The light in the bathroom was on, and he heard Sivi running water. After a moment, the noise stopped, the light went out, and the door swung open. Looking even paler than usual, Sivi crossed to the bed and slid under the covers beside her husband.
"Melui, are you alright?" he asked, putting his arm around her as she lay on her side, facing away from him.
"I am. Just a little morning sickness; that's all," she said quietly.
"Morning sickness? What is that?" Gil-galad asked curiously.
Morning was his favourite time of the time of the day; it didn't seem right that there should be an illness associated with it. Besides, could they, as Elves, be ill?
"It's not a traditional disease like the ones that we can't get," Sivi explained, as if she had read his mind. Knowing his wife, she probably had. "It's - it's a girls-only sickness, okay, Love? Don't worry."
"Girls only?" he queried.
"You don't know much about women, do you?" Sivi sighed. True, he couldn't really be expected to, being a warrior king. "Love, I'm pregnant."
"What's that?"
"I'm with child."
"WHAT?!"
"Lower your voice, or you'll wake the neighbours," Sivi warned.
"Why didn't you - I mean, how long have you known -"
"Stay, stay, softly, be still," Sivi insisted.
They sat up together, and he held her to himself as if she were made of glass, his long hand resting gingerly on the folds of her white gown just over her stomach.
"I'm a couple of months along," Sivi murmured. "I hadn't told you yet because I wasn't sure. I - had to talk to my mother about it first. I knew that she would be able to tell me."
"What is it?"
"What?"
"I mean," Gil-galad continued, flustered, "is it a - a daughter or a son? Do you know that yet? I mean, I know that you aren't supposed to know until it's born, but your mother, could she tell you?"
"Actually, this world's science makes it possible to know a few months before the child is born, but I'm not that far along. Yet. However, as you said, my mother, knowing things the way she does, did, in fact, get around that problem," Sivi said with a small smile.
"And?"
"Hmmm?" Sivi murmured, leaning back against her husband and closing her eyes.
"Your mother told you whether it was male or female, did she not?"
"She did," Sivi agreed easily, enjoying this immensely.
"What did she say?" Gil-galad asked persistently.
"Mother? Lots of things," Sivi answered, baiting him for all she was worth.
"Is it male or female?" he pressed.
"What?"
"The child, the child! What are you about, woman?"
Sivi laughed aloud.
"It's male, it's male, but you are singularly amusing to tease."
"Wayward wretch," Gil-galad growled, shaking her VERY gently.
"O, but I am. I AM," Sivi chuckled wickedly. "However, yes, the child is a son. It's what all mothers do, Love; it's tradition."
"For once, I'd almost say 'Decorum be hanged,' but alright, lass, if it's tradition," he said in a falsely gruff tone of voice. "Im mel le, Melui nin."
"I love you, too," Sivi whispered, snuggling in his protective embrace.
Gil-galad was silent for a long while. At last he said,
"So... do we name him now, or when he is born?"
"We can do either," she responded. "If you want to name him now, we can do that."
"Do you have any ideas?" Gil-galad asked.
"Well, Mother liked 'Cuiviesúl.'"
"Cuiviesúl? 'Awakening wind'?" Gil-galad said slowly, as if picturing the little boy in his mind.
"Because it's my first child, it's the awakening, and my father is Manwë Súlimo-"
"Lord of the Breath of Arda," Gil-galad nodded. "Cuiviesúl, I see. My son is the grandchild of Manwë and Varda," he added wonderingly. "By the way, when DID you see your mother?"
"Last night in a dream, the way that I used to meet with you. Where do you think I learned how to do that?"
"Ah."
"My mother had more to say than just adoring our baby, too," Sivi continued. "Conditions are worsening in Middle Earth. We have to go back, and soon, but we can't go back without Legolas and the others."
"But we can't find them," Gil-galad protested, "It's been three years."
"Mother seems to think that a way will open up sometime in the very near future. We must keep our eyes open and not miss it."
~*~*~*~
The familiar walls of the Place rose around her, the bright rooms empty of laughing faces and loud music. Empty, save for a lone golden- haired figure clad in green. Andrea gasped softly and ran to the side of her Pretty One. Yet, even as she reached him, the image collapsed in on itself and she was running through the dark green of Mirkwood. She recognized this dream.
"NO!" she screamed, fighting with her dream self, trying to change history by turning back to her love. As she fought against memory, the dream changed again. Now she was standing before the deep whale tank. There was a shimmer of light within its deep blue. Somehow Andrea knew that shimmer, what ever it was, was important. She dove after it.
Down and down and down, further than any tank could ever hope to span, Andrea swam easily, pushing herself through the dream ocean. She reached out-and now the glowing gem was a light and smooth weight in her hands. Opal starlight glittered around her. The shadows reached up, longing to reclaim their treasure. Though Andrea struggled, they grabbed at her arms and the sudden pain of their touch caused her to scream.
It was her own scream that woke her. Andrea sat up slowly, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. She wrapped her arms around her self in an effort to still the fearful shivers. She hissed at the hot pain that shot through her arms. Looking down, she saw the long steaks of burn marks and she stared.
~*~*~*~
CRUNCH. Fizzle. Znap. Fizz.
Orlando started awake and stared in shock and horror at his new knife buried to its mahogany hilt in the hotel room clock.
"I left you in my suitcase," he told the knife incredulously. "How -?"
With a sigh, he yanked it out of the clock, which gave a last popping hiss and went dead. He got up and changed from his pajamas into some warm clothes, wondering how much he would have to pay the hotel for the clock. It didn't really worry him; he had plenty of money. Still, it was humiliating.
He had come to New York for the American premiere of "The Return of the King," and it had been glamorous indeed. Now he and the other cast members were spending a few days in the Big Apple just for, as Orlando seemed to remember a friend of his saying once, though he couldn't be sure, "kicks and giggles." Orlando decided to go downstairs and pay for the clock, then try to find an... interesting... place to have breakfast.
~Phe-chan
Chapter Three: Baiting
Gil-galad woke alone, disturbed by a faint sound that he could not place. The light in the bathroom was on, and he heard Sivi running water. After a moment, the noise stopped, the light went out, and the door swung open. Looking even paler than usual, Sivi crossed to the bed and slid under the covers beside her husband.
"Melui, are you alright?" he asked, putting his arm around her as she lay on her side, facing away from him.
"I am. Just a little morning sickness; that's all," she said quietly.
"Morning sickness? What is that?" Gil-galad asked curiously.
Morning was his favourite time of the time of the day; it didn't seem right that there should be an illness associated with it. Besides, could they, as Elves, be ill?
"It's not a traditional disease like the ones that we can't get," Sivi explained, as if she had read his mind. Knowing his wife, she probably had. "It's - it's a girls-only sickness, okay, Love? Don't worry."
"Girls only?" he queried.
"You don't know much about women, do you?" Sivi sighed. True, he couldn't really be expected to, being a warrior king. "Love, I'm pregnant."
"What's that?"
"I'm with child."
"WHAT?!"
"Lower your voice, or you'll wake the neighbours," Sivi warned.
"Why didn't you - I mean, how long have you known -"
"Stay, stay, softly, be still," Sivi insisted.
They sat up together, and he held her to himself as if she were made of glass, his long hand resting gingerly on the folds of her white gown just over her stomach.
"I'm a couple of months along," Sivi murmured. "I hadn't told you yet because I wasn't sure. I - had to talk to my mother about it first. I knew that she would be able to tell me."
"What is it?"
"What?"
"I mean," Gil-galad continued, flustered, "is it a - a daughter or a son? Do you know that yet? I mean, I know that you aren't supposed to know until it's born, but your mother, could she tell you?"
"Actually, this world's science makes it possible to know a few months before the child is born, but I'm not that far along. Yet. However, as you said, my mother, knowing things the way she does, did, in fact, get around that problem," Sivi said with a small smile.
"And?"
"Hmmm?" Sivi murmured, leaning back against her husband and closing her eyes.
"Your mother told you whether it was male or female, did she not?"
"She did," Sivi agreed easily, enjoying this immensely.
"What did she say?" Gil-galad asked persistently.
"Mother? Lots of things," Sivi answered, baiting him for all she was worth.
"Is it male or female?" he pressed.
"What?"
"The child, the child! What are you about, woman?"
Sivi laughed aloud.
"It's male, it's male, but you are singularly amusing to tease."
"Wayward wretch," Gil-galad growled, shaking her VERY gently.
"O, but I am. I AM," Sivi chuckled wickedly. "However, yes, the child is a son. It's what all mothers do, Love; it's tradition."
"For once, I'd almost say 'Decorum be hanged,' but alright, lass, if it's tradition," he said in a falsely gruff tone of voice. "Im mel le, Melui nin."
"I love you, too," Sivi whispered, snuggling in his protective embrace.
Gil-galad was silent for a long while. At last he said,
"So... do we name him now, or when he is born?"
"We can do either," she responded. "If you want to name him now, we can do that."
"Do you have any ideas?" Gil-galad asked.
"Well, Mother liked 'Cuiviesúl.'"
"Cuiviesúl? 'Awakening wind'?" Gil-galad said slowly, as if picturing the little boy in his mind.
"Because it's my first child, it's the awakening, and my father is Manwë Súlimo-"
"Lord of the Breath of Arda," Gil-galad nodded. "Cuiviesúl, I see. My son is the grandchild of Manwë and Varda," he added wonderingly. "By the way, when DID you see your mother?"
"Last night in a dream, the way that I used to meet with you. Where do you think I learned how to do that?"
"Ah."
"My mother had more to say than just adoring our baby, too," Sivi continued. "Conditions are worsening in Middle Earth. We have to go back, and soon, but we can't go back without Legolas and the others."
"But we can't find them," Gil-galad protested, "It's been three years."
"Mother seems to think that a way will open up sometime in the very near future. We must keep our eyes open and not miss it."
~*~*~*~
The familiar walls of the Place rose around her, the bright rooms empty of laughing faces and loud music. Empty, save for a lone golden- haired figure clad in green. Andrea gasped softly and ran to the side of her Pretty One. Yet, even as she reached him, the image collapsed in on itself and she was running through the dark green of Mirkwood. She recognized this dream.
"NO!" she screamed, fighting with her dream self, trying to change history by turning back to her love. As she fought against memory, the dream changed again. Now she was standing before the deep whale tank. There was a shimmer of light within its deep blue. Somehow Andrea knew that shimmer, what ever it was, was important. She dove after it.
Down and down and down, further than any tank could ever hope to span, Andrea swam easily, pushing herself through the dream ocean. She reached out-and now the glowing gem was a light and smooth weight in her hands. Opal starlight glittered around her. The shadows reached up, longing to reclaim their treasure. Though Andrea struggled, they grabbed at her arms and the sudden pain of their touch caused her to scream.
It was her own scream that woke her. Andrea sat up slowly, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. She wrapped her arms around her self in an effort to still the fearful shivers. She hissed at the hot pain that shot through her arms. Looking down, she saw the long steaks of burn marks and she stared.
~*~*~*~
CRUNCH. Fizzle. Znap. Fizz.
Orlando started awake and stared in shock and horror at his new knife buried to its mahogany hilt in the hotel room clock.
"I left you in my suitcase," he told the knife incredulously. "How -?"
With a sigh, he yanked it out of the clock, which gave a last popping hiss and went dead. He got up and changed from his pajamas into some warm clothes, wondering how much he would have to pay the hotel for the clock. It didn't really worry him; he had plenty of money. Still, it was humiliating.
He had come to New York for the American premiere of "The Return of the King," and it had been glamorous indeed. Now he and the other cast members were spending a few days in the Big Apple just for, as Orlando seemed to remember a friend of his saying once, though he couldn't be sure, "kicks and giggles." Orlando decided to go downstairs and pay for the clock, then try to find an... interesting... place to have breakfast.
