A/N: I forgot to ask if anyone knew a place where I could find dwarvish translations and my own (time-limited) searches came up with nothing, so the dwarvish in this chapter is just going to be implied via italicized words. If anyone can point me towards something like an English-to-Dwarvish online dictionary, I'd be grateful!

A commotion woke Legolas up out of a sound sleep early the next morning. He sat up straight in the bed and focused his hearing, hoping to find out what could be going on. It sounded like yelling – frantic and angry, coming from outside but somewhere close by – as well as confused voices and frenzied footsteps that were hurrying towards the bedchamber door. This couldn't be a good thing. "Aragorn?" he nudged his slumbering husband.

"What?" mumbled Aragorn in a tone that was halfway between a groan and a whine. They'd been up rather late into the evening and the last thing he wanted at the moment was to be roused before he absolutely had to be.

Legolas, however, wasn't going to let him just drift back off. "Wake up!" he urged. "There's something going on, both inside the citadel and right outside of it. The air is thick with anger and panic – I can feel it."

"What kind of –" Aragorn began before being interrupted by the sound of the door crashing open. Keenly aware that he and Legolas had forgone putting on their sleeping clothing before they retired, he hastily pulled the covers up around them while simultaneously glaring at the intruding guard. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded with as much dignity as a half-awakenaked man could manage. "How dare you just barge in here like this?"

"I'm – so sorry, my king!" panted the guard, sounding positively terrified. "But – outside –dire circumstances – very – very – dire circumstances!"

That would explain the confusion, panic, and footsteps. "I can hear some kind of furious debate going on outside in the courtyard," Legolas stated. "Is that the source of the dire circumstances?"

"Yes – yes, my prince," the poor guard nodded vigorously. "We couldn't prepare for it! No one knew that they were coming!"

"Knew that who was coming?" questioned Aragorn. This was absurd. He was exhausted and facing a long day; he certainly wasn't in the mood to play riddle-type games right now.

"Of course invitations went out to all the lands for this gathering," babbled the guard, still not thinking clearly enough to notice that the king was getting more and more impatient, "but they said they couldn't send anyone! How were we supposed to know that they would change their minds?"

Legolas noticed Aragorn's hands tightening their grip around the blankets. He quickly covered them with his own, sensing that if he didn't the next thing his husband would be squeezing was the guard's neck. "So, at least one of the visiting delegates is involved in this squabble?" he encouraged the young Man to continue.

"Yes," affirmed the guard. "We had no warning; they just showed up at sunrise and went straight to see the Lord Gimli."

"Gimli has something to do with this?" asked the elf. No wonder people in the corridors were confused after encountering this rambling guard.

"No," he shook his head. "Wait – yes. Well –"

"Choose one," Aragorn ordered shortly.

The guard's eyes darted frantically around the room as if he were searching for the correct answer. "Both," he finally declared. "He's involved in all the shouting, but even he didn't know that a delegation from the Lonely Mountain was coming."

A delegation from the Lonely Mountain was in the city? Aragorn's heart sank. "And did this delegation consist of any of the members of Thorin Oakenshield's company?" he asked in a tight voice.

"Gloin, son of Groín and father of Gimli, led them himself. That's why they insisted on visiting him Lord Gimli before being announced before the throne."

Legolas had alreadyjumped out of bed, grabbed his green robe off of the floor, slipped it on, and was sprinting to the closet before the young Man finished speaking. "My father's at Gimli's house!" he cried, oblivious to everything else but his task of finding Aragorn's robe – including the bug-eyed and slack-jawed guard who got an eyeful and was now gawking at his now-covered body.

"I don't think Gloin knew aboutwhat good friends Gimli and Ada have become," Legolas continued to fret as he found the red garment and threw it on top of Aragorn. "This isn't good! It's not likely that he's forgiven and forgotten about that unfortunate matter with the dungeons and all." He shot a withering look at the still stunned guard. "There are more important things to focus on right now than the fact that you saw me naked!"

Aragorn might have laughed at the situation if he had the time and energy. The guard had no way of knowing that elves have a rather unconcerned attitude about nudity – or that the king was used to it. He probably figured that he was about to be beheaded. "He's right," said Aragorn, having enough pity for the Man's flustered state to put his own robe on under the covers. "You really need to stop staring at my husband."

The guard started, snapping his head around so quickly that the royal couple was surprised they didn't hear his neck snap. "I'm so sorry!" he cried. "I would never – on purpose – I didn't mean to!"

"We know that," Legolas told him. "But if you're truly sorry, you'll do two things: number one, never speak of it again. Number two, quickly gather a contingent of guards and lead them to the area around the courtyard. Don't let my father or the dwarves see them; just make sure they'll be ready to intervene in case the circumstances get exceedingly dire."

Bowing low, the guard tore out of the room. "Hurry!" the elf shouted at Aragorn, barely waiting for him before taking off himself.

It wasn't difficult for them to find Gimli, Gloin, and Thranduil; in fact, they were yelling at each other right there in front of the White Tree. Thank Elbereth that it was still too early for their confrontation to draw a crowd! "Of all the disloyal, dishonorable things you could do!" Gloin was raging. "How could you befriend this –"

"Father!"

"Not only befriend him, but also invite him into your home!" the old dwarf continued, ignoring his son's admonishment. "Have you forgotten that I spent a month locked up in some dank dungeon when I was invited into his home?"

"Cellar," corrected Thranduil. "It was a cellar, not a dungeon." He'd always disliked when people used the word "dungeon" to describe that part of his old cavern palace. After all, he'd kept his prized wine collection down there. "And you brought that on yourself."

Gimli's face blanched. "Thranduil –"

"You're on a first-name basis with him?" Gloin asked his son incredulously. "Why don't you just spit in my face and be done with it?"

Thranduil ignored both of them. "If you would have been honest and just told me what your business in Mirkwood was I would have let you pass," he growled furiously. "No reasonable ruler, be they elf or Man, would have permitted unrestrained movement through their realm during a time when the shadow was strengthening. Especially not when it was obvious that you were hiding something! Honestly, your exaggerated sense of entitlement still astonishes me."

Smoke was practically coming out of Gloin's. "May the tips of your ears fall off!"

"May you lose each and every strand of hair from your beard and remain smooth-chinned for the rest of your life!"

Gloin's eyes narrowed. "You tree-skipping, unjust, brainless whoreson!"

"Excuse me?!" protested Aragorn before he could think about it.

The dwarf whipped his head around to glare at the newcomers. "Who are you?" he demanded, taking in their just-out-of-bed hair and robe-clad bodies.

"I am King Elessar and this is my husband, Prince Legolas," replied Aragorn curtly.

"You don't look like a king."

"I don't wear my crown to bed."

Gimli nudged his father hard. "Don't insult them!" he snapped harshly.

Casting a long and wary look at Legolas, Gloin bowed. "At your service," he said with stiff formality.

"At yours and your family's," replied Legolas inhalting but soliddwarvish.

Gloin hadencountered dragons, traveled down a river while stuffed inside an apple barrel, and journeyed with a hobbit burglar who could make himself invisible, but nothing compared to hearing his own language coming from the mouth of an elf. "You speak dwarvish?"

"A little," Legolas told him. "Gimli taught me a few words."

Torn between begrudging respect and indignant outrage, Gloin chose the more familiar emotion. "Teaching our language to an elf!" he exploded at his son, whose nostrils flared at the implied insult aimed at the prince. "This is that Elvenking's son, is it not? By Aüle, why don't you just teach him to secret ways to our treasure hoards while you're at it?"

"That is enough!" ordered Aragorn authoritatively, cutting off Thranduil's and Gimli's furious responses. "I am well aware that there are many traditional and personal reasons that keep you from liking each other and I will not presume to demand that all be forgiven. However, this is my husband and that is my father-in-law; I will not tolerate anyone impugning their integrity or making vulgar remarks about their lineage in my realm, let alone my presence."

"Legolas greeted you according to our customs and in our tongue and yet you treat him so dishonorably," Gimli muttered. "I'm ashamed of you, Father."

Thranduil didn't say anything; he was too busy looking at Aragorn with something akin to surprise and respect in his eyes. The surprise didn't come from the respect, though – he had always known that Aragorn was a fine king. Perhaps it was from having an insult to him being associated to an insult to the Man. 'Perhaps from feeling like Aragorn regards him as his family,' thought Legolas hopefully. This could be the first step towards the two actually liking each other! He was elated.

Apparently the baby shared his ada's joy because at that moment the elf felt a wonderful little flutter. "Aragorn," he choked out. By the Valar, he'd never before felt so torn between joy and nausea! "I think he just kicked." Then he bent over and vomited.

Aragorn, Thranduil, and Gimli were gathered all around him in a second. "It will be all right, Little Greenleaf," soothed his father.

"This will pass soon," added Aragorn as he stroked Legolas' hair.

A dumbfounded Gloin just stared at them. Elves seemed so maddeningly perfect; he never thought that they actually had bodily functions. "What's wrong with him?" he asked, fascinated.

"Morning sickness," responded Gimli briskly.

"Morning sickness?!"

"Male elves can get pregnant," Gimli explained impatiently. "Now let him be so he can get through this in peace."

Legolas groaned. "If it's all the same to everyone else, I'd rather not continue to vomit in the streets," he said dryly. Elbereth, he could imagine what people would say if they saw him like this – sick and in naught but his robe.

"That can be arranged," Aragorn told him gently. He tossed a glower at the other three. "My husband and I have many things to do today that don't involve minding all of you. I ask that everyone here behave in a manner befitting the dignity of your races and realms; at the very least, I expect that neither elf or dwarf blood will be spilled when we leave you unsupervised."

Without bothering to wait for a reply, the King of Gondor put a supportive arm around Legolas' waist and together they returned to the citadel.

To be continued…

A/N: I hope this chapter's coherent. I've been typing papers for the last week, so nothing's a guarantee. It's been read and re-read, but I can't vouch for my mental capacity at the moment...

By this time next week, all I'll have to do is one take-home exam and a presentation! YAY! Vacation time is coming!