Being away from the pressures of court life and in the company of hobbits seemed to have a remarkable affect on Legolas' appetite, Aragorn decided. In all the years they'd known each other, the elf had always eaten sparsely, picking at his food and sometimes even forgetting mealtimes entirely. However, now he was more than keeping up with the three hobbits that were eating breakfast with them.
"Aragorn, could you please pass the bread?" he asked, swallowing the last mouthful of food at almost the same time.
Pippin gaped as Legolas eagerly tore himself another piece. "I'm impressed," he said, and he really meant it. "Are you sure you're not part-hobbit?"
"I probably will be if I stay here much longer," Legolas bantered. "This place just has a way of making me hungry."
"I, for one, am sorry that we're leaving," yawned Aragorn. The stay at the Prancing Pony had been an enjoyable, if tiring, time. His days had been occupied of visits with his hobbit friends – especially since Merry and Pippin arrived the week prior – while his nights were spent making love to his husband. All that lost sleep was finally catching up to him. A few more days spent like that might just kill him, but he could think of worse ways to die.
Merry let out a long sigh. "I suppose I should get ready if we're going to be leaving today," he groaned, casting one last forlorn look at his empty plate before rising to his feet.
"It has to be wrong to leave so soon after eating," protested Pippin, trying to shake off his food-induced lethargy. "Setting off on long journeys just makes me hungry again. We'll just have to stop for second breakfast after going for a bit."
"Strider doesn't believe in second breakfast, remember?" Merry ribbed him as they headed toward the door.
"It would take us a year to get to Minas Tirith if we stopped for every hobbit mealtime!" Aragorn called after them defensively.
"Although I'm sure we can make an exception every now and again," Legolas added hastily between bits.
The Man shot his husband a disbelieving look. "I wish Gimli could see you now," he chuckled. "You could probably even out-eat him today."
Legolas bristled. "I'm hungry," he snapped, throwing what was left of the piece down on his plate. "Would you rather I never ate at all?"
"No," answered Aragorn, not quite sure how else to respond. He was quite taken aback; while Legolas' stubborn temperament sometimes led to interesting – and loud – discussions during their marriage, he'd never reacted that badly over an innocent remark before.
Sam squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. "I – I guess I should go see how Rose and the kids are coming along," he stuttered, trying too hard to sound casual.
The royal couple sat in silence for a few moments after he sprinted out of the room. "I'm sorry," offered Aragorn. "I didn't mean to upset you. I just meant –"
"I know what you meant," Legolas interrupted, not taking his eyes off his plate. "I'm the one who's sorry; I shouldn't have snapped at you like that."
Aragorn reached across the table and clasped his hand, caressing it gently with his thumb. "Think nothing of it, meleth," he reassured warmly. "You know that you don't have to always be on your best behavior around me."
"I don't know what's wrong with me lately," the prince lamented. "I just –"he paused, catching himself before everything he'd been trying to hide came spilling out –"I just hope Sam still comes with us."
"It'll take a lot more than one unpleasant moment to care off Samwise Gamgee," Aragorn declared. "Don't worry about it. Soon the citadel will be filled with the hot air of noblemen trying to outdo each other with proper compliments for him and his family."
"And the halls will be filled with the sound of children," murmured Legolas to himself.
"Legolas..."
'Did I just say that out loud?' "I just meant that it seems so quiet in there sometimes," he joked, backpedaling fiercely. "Although we'll probably miss that peace in a day or two."
Aragorn was far from convinced. "Had Cirion said anything to you about the subject of children?" he asked suspiciously.
Legolas' face twitched as he racked his brain for the right way to put this. "He mentioned a few things to me," he admitted reluctantly.
The Man slammed his fist down on the table, causing his husband to jump. Cirion was one of his noble advisors and an insufferable person to be around. Aragorn would have dismissed him from his service in a heartbeat if he thought he could do so without causing a major scandal. If he'd been harassing Legolas about what he guessed... "What exactly did he say?" he demanded.
"Nothing that I didn't already know," answered Legolas, weariness in this hone. "That you, as a mortal king, need an heir, even if I can't be the one to assist you in such an undertaking. He has a point," he added, his voice breaking a little along with his heart.
"He has a daughter," Aragorn shot back darkly. "Cirion has been trying for years to marry her off to whoever the most powerful man in Gondor happens to be at the moment. Since now there's no hope of her becoming my queen, he'll gladly push for that poor girl to be my breeding partner. It's disgusting and I won't stand for it!"
"I'm not saying! –" Legolas stopped short and took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down before they disturbed everyone in the entire in and really did scare the hobbits out of coming. "I'm not saying that you should go and procreate with that Man's daughter the second we get home," he began again. "I just wish this wasn't so complicated. It didn't always have to be; in the First Age –"
"I know," murmured Aragorn, the tension draining from his body. Was thatthe reason why his husband had been so unusually emotional – both in bed and out – these last few weeks? "The evil of Sauron robbed males elves of their ability to bear children, and such an evil cannot ever wholly be undone. This shouldn't be your concern, my love, and I'll put an end to it once we get back to the White City."
"What will you tell the advisors?"
"That I refuse to have a child with anyone who isn't you."
Now that would be an interesting meeting to sit in on. The roar of protests would be deafening, and the ensuing scandal simply too delicious for the court gossips to let go of it for years. "And what about a future king of Gondor?" persisted Legolas.
"Why should my heir have to be my child?" asked Aragorn somewhat rhetorically. "Eomer isn't Theoden's son; does that make him any less worthy or legitimate?"
"They were still blood kin, Aragorn," Legolas argued back. "Besides, he only became Theoden's heir because no other option was available."
"As far as I'm concerned, no other option is available in our situation either." The Man's face was as stern and hard as his voice. "The blood of Westernesse runs true in Faramir, and his line is almost as noble as mine. With his permission, I'll name his child my heir when the time comes."
"Am I to be responsible for the line of Luthien failing, then?" asked Legolas, his guilt not subsiding.
"Elladan and Elrohir are of that line too," Aragorn reminded him wryly. "One of them can worry about carry on that bloodline."
One more detail that the nobles would immediately protest nagged Legolas. "Faramir and Eowyn only have one child," he pointed out. "And Findowyn is a girl."
"Numenor had two female rules in its time," replied Aragorn blithely. "I'll have them consider that when they start in on the issue."
"I'd like to be there when you let them know all of this," Legolas said, forcing the statement to come out as a joke. He didn't really mean it, of course. If he were there, some of the nobles would glare at him and make casual-but-humiliating remarks, resenting the fact that he "lured" the king away from their daughters even when he knew he couldn't do everything that a royal spouse should be able to do. But even that would be easier to deal with than the looks of pity he'd get from the others; their poor prince consort, having to deal with the unchangeable reality of being childless.
"Please don't worry about this any longer," Aragorn urged. "It will all work out the way it should, I promise."
Nausea rose up in Legolas' stomach, sharply reminding him of something he desperately wanted to hide. "You're right," he choked out hastily, jumping to his feet. "If you'll excuse me, I need to check on Arod before we leave."
He dashed off, leaving his concerned and bewildered husband in his wake.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Legolas barely made it into the stables before he vomited. Arod whinnied, worried and slightly perturbed. "I'm sorry, mellon nin," he gasped out, feeling utterly wretched. He was on his hands and knees in his horse's stall regurgitating his breakfast, he realized. Hot tears sprang down his cheeks as the queasiness kept coming – he wondered if Aragorn would think he was so beautiful if he saw him now.
A hand stroked his hair as he heaved again. "Legolas?" Pippin's voice asked gently. "Is there anything I can do? Should I go get Strider?"
"Don't!" he cried quickly before he could catch himself. "I just shouldn't have eaten so much. It seems that an elf's stomach wasn't meant to handle hobbit-sized portions."
"That's not it," Pippin observed sagely. Legolas looked over at him and was surprised at the wisdom the hobbit's expression held. "You might as well tell me what's really going on; I'll only pester you into it later if you don't."
He helped the elf sit back away from the evidence of his nausea. "Thank you," Legolas murmured sincerely as Pippin plopped down in front of him. "It's –"he started, but his voice and body were shaking too much, both from the after-affects of vomiting and from the emotion of admitting this aloud for the first time, to continue.
"You're starting to scare me," Pippin told him nervously. "I'm sure it can't be all that bad; you probably just need to talk about it with someone."
"I've been ill for a few months now," Legolas confessed in a small voice. "It's like my body's falling apart, Pippin. I don't feel balanced anymore, I'm irritable and exhausted, my" – he blushed –" my needs are out of control, and now this nausea is getting stronger. I've tried everything, but nothing's helped. I had to become mortal to bind myself to Aragorn; perhaps mortality is just checking up with me. I – I just seem to be getting worse."
"You're not saying that? -" Pippin broke off, sobbing. "You're dying?"
Legolas nodded. "Either that or I'll just remain sickly for the rest of my life."
Pippin knew he should be comforting the elf instead of selfishly crying, but he couldn't help it. He'd already lost Boromir to death and Frodo and Gandalf to Valinor; the thought of losing yet another friend was unbearable! "Can't you tell Strider?" he pleaded. "He's an amazing healing. There must be something he can do!"
"No!" Legolas was adamant. "I don't want our last days together before bed-confinement or death to be filled with tears and regret. Please, Pippin; I ask for nothing else but for you to keep this between us. Promise me."
It wasn't right, but Pippin couldn't say no; what if his refusal just made Legolas worse? "I promise," he vowed reluctantly.
To be continued...
A/N: I pulled the name "Cirion" out of the Appendices; "Findowyn" is a combination of the names of Faramir and Eowyn's mothers.
All of you reviewers continue to blow me away. Thank you! And a special thank you to those of you who volunteered to take my survey; I'll get it to you this upcoming week (I would have done it this last week, but I've been buried under homework - I was so frazzled, I forgot to put my survey request in my "Troy" fic!). I could still use some more volunteers. Please, people? (insert hopeful smile here). It's for a paper on the social systems surrounding fan fiction; the class it's for is a beginning requirement for my degree and therefore is rather boring. I won't use your real names, share the surveys with anyone else, give out your e-mail addresses, and I will shred it all once the paper's turned in. It would definitely make this semester more bearable. :-)