A/N: Happy holiday season to all! Here's an early Christmas present, if you celebrate it, or just a little bonus if you don't. I'll be a kind of busy on Friday, when I usually update this story, so I decided to just go ahead and do it now.

For possibly the first time ever, the food on the breakfast table wasn't the reason for Pippin's ridiculous grin and shining, excited eyes. Even more stunning was the fact that he was turned slightly away from the impressive spread of breads, fruits, cheese, and other assorted culinary items and his hand was not reaching for a sausage, but instead resting on Legolas' stomach. The hobbit held his entire body perfectly still for a few moments – a miraculous feat in itself – before jumping back with a gasp. "Wow," he breathed in awe. "That's unbelievable. When he kicks, he really kicks doesn't he? Does it hurt you, Legolas?"

"Most certainly not," Legolas told him.

"Move over," Merry admonished his cousin cheerfully. "As this child's Uncle Meriadoc, I insist on feeling him kick too." He too placed his hands on the elf, frowning after a few long moments. "I don't feel anything."

"Oooh, he kicked again!" Pippin squealed with more enthusiasm than was necessary. "I guess this means that he just doesn't like you as much as he likes his Uncle Peregrin."

Merry let out an offended squawk. "What is means is that you're hogging all the good kicking places. Move!"

Eowyn watched them as they grabbed at each other's hands, vying for the place of honor, with a knowing smirk on her face. "This brings back so many memories," she stated with a sigh. "The maddening cravings for apples, the joy of family and friends, and the widely-held belief people seemed to adhere to that it was entirely proper for them to touch my stomach without first obtaining my permission."

The squabbling hobbits froze in mid-motion, their hands grasping each other while suspended over an amused Legolas. "Did you find that to be true, Rose?" she continued.

"Oh, I don't know milady," Rose Gamgee blushed. In the past few days she'd been introduced to her husband's strange friends again, this time individually so as not to overwhelm her. She was more used to being in the presence of the Big Folk and had even built up a kind of camaraderie with Eowyn while their daughters played together. Still, she wasn't quite comfortable with engaging in their easy banter. With this being the first time they'd all been gathered together, without a crowd surrounding them, since the traumatic confrontation in the Houses of Healing, Sam's wife was just a little nervous. "Maybe, perhaps, sometimes when they talked more 'bout it than they did to me."

Merry and Pippin drew back their hands instantly as if they'd been burned. "We're sorry, Legolas," Merry apologized at once.

"Yeah," agreed Pippin, suddenly nervous as he remembered the elf's new tendency for dramatic mood swings. "We're both sorry, but I'm sorrier. Not that I'm the worst grabber of the two of us – Merry does have a reputation in the Shire and all – but still –"

"It's all right, you two," Legolas reassured them with a laugh as Merry shot Pippin a most offended look. "I ought to know by now that hobbits are incurably curious creatures at times, and tend to look just as much with their hands as they do with their eyes. It might be one of the most endearing traits they possess and I wouldn't have it any other way. Stop stirring up mischief, Eowyn."

"Mischief? Me?"

Faramir smiled affectionately at his wife. "Please do not fault her for it, my prince," he said innocently. "She can't help herself. In fact, she wouldn't be Eowyn if she didn't instigate a little mischief every now and again, even if it does get her poor husband into trouble as well."

"I can relate to your plight," Aragorn told him, struggling to keep his tone and face serious.

Legolas cocked an eyebrow at his husband's long-suffering sigh. "Tread carefully," he warned dryly. "Or else I shall be forced to tell many of the stories that the twins recounted to me about your rather mischievous childhood."

"Now let's not start any bickering," interjected Sam in the same tone he'd used the previous day when Elanor and Findowyn were arguing over whether to play tea party or balrog slayer. "We actually have the chance to share a nice, pleasant meal together without all that political stuff going on. How often is this going to happen? I'll not have any more insults and teasing spoilin' the mood."

Sam's assessment of their enjoyable situation was very true. For once, Aragorn and Legolas were able to spend one mealtime with the hobbits, Faramir, and Eowyn without having to attend to other guests as well. The children weren't present either; Eomer – unable to attend himself because of his official position as a dignitary and Gondor's need to treat all of their politically official foreign guests equally – had gallantly offered to keep an eye on them. The same reasons that barred Eomer from joining them also prevented the inclusion of Gloin and Gimli thought it wise to spend the morning meal with his father. Even Thranduil had politely excused himself, not being overly fond of Man food and disliking the notion of being confined inside on such a fine day.

No one was enjoying this temporary reprieve from duty and conflict more than Aragorn. "I believe it must fall on me to set an example for these two wayward hobbits," he announced grandly. "May I please place my hands on you in order to feel our baby kick, my love?"

"Why, of course, Your Majesty," replied Legolas with perfect courtly dignity. Aragorn kissed is temple and placed his hands on the slight bulge.

"Can you feel anything?" asked Pippin eagerly.

A smile broke across the Man's face as the skin beneath his palm moved. "That's nothing short of a miracle," he proclaimed. "It's as if he knows it's his sire and this is his way of saying hello. Oh Legolas, our son is already intelligent, willful, and strong."

"Despite of what any healer may believe," muttered Legolas under his breath as he finished off another piece of bread. Over the past few months he'd developed a heightened appreciation for food; but ever since his examination in the Houses it all made him a little uncomfortable. Was he eating enough? Was there such a thing as too much in his current condition? Could he harm the baby by eating the wrong foods? Aragorn, noting the melancholy that had crept into his husband's disposition, tightened his arms around him."

"Baby, child, son," remarked Pippin thoughtfully, not hearing what the prince had just said. "You're sure the baby's a boy, right?"

Legolas immediately felt his mood elevate as he recalled the vision of the little boy that resembled Aragorn with pointed, elven ears. "There is no doubt in my mind," he confirmed.

"Then maybe we should come up with a name for the little tyke," Pippin suggested, "and stop calling him all that other stuff."

"He's right," spoke up Merry, clearly excited at the prospect of discussing what to call his "nephew." "You don't want him thinking that his name's Baby, do you? No one would take him seriously then."

"No, you can't have that," chimed in Sam, remembering how he and Rose struggled to find the perfect name for their firstborn. Right after Frodo suggested the perfect name, Elanor, Sam had set about making a list of other possibilities so that they would have an idea in the future. The list currently had eight names on it and although he didn't think they'd use all of them, he always liked coming up with more. "Do you two have anything in particular in mind?"

"So much as happened in such a short period of time that I haven't been able to give the matter much thought," admitted Aragorn, feeling somewhat sheepish that he had to be reminded to name his own heir. "Do you have any preferences, Legolas?"

"Nothing that my heart is totally committed to," Legolas said. He ran a hand over the bulge that was his child as the vision flashed in his mind again. "He's going to look so much like you; as you were when we first met. I wouldn't mind calling him Estel."

Aragorn pondered this possibility for a moment. "Perhaps for a nickname," he finally said. "Estel is a fine name, but it is difficult for me to imagine a King Estel seated upon the throne of Gondor. Besides, Elladan and Elrohir would take to calling us Big Estel and Little Estel and it would not be right for him to be known as Little Estel for his entire life."

"The future king of Gondor needs a grander name," Pippin declared with a twinkle in his eye. "Might I suggest Peregrin? Good, strong name, that is."

"For a pet, maybe," scoffed Merry. "Though King Meriadoc has a nice ring to it."

"I don't think it would be a wise idea to name him after any of you," replied Legolas with a chuckle. "I can just imagine the endless bickering that would cause! Although, I am tempted to name him after one of the twins just for the sheer amusement the situation's bound to create."

"For the sake of familial peace and harmony, I beg you to resist that urge," said Aragorn, only half-joking.

Faramir cleared his throat. "The council was discussing this very topic before you arrived yesterday," he announced, looking more than a little uncomfortable. He greatly disliked passing the doings of the advisors' along to the king, but it was something that had to be done.

Immediately resenting the gall they possessed to think that they had any say in what his son was named, Aragorn demanded stiffly, "And what did they come up with?"

"More than a few of them agreed that Isildur would be the perfect name," the steward informed them. "They though that it would be only fitting after you spoke the words of Elendil at your coronation, sire."

Legolas' face froze into an expression that was half-amused and half-horrified. His father hated Isildur with a passion that he usually reserved for the hatred of orcs and dwarves. The fall of his own father – Legolas' grandsire – Oropher during the Last Alliance of Men and Elves had been a sore enough blow without the Man taking the One Ring for his own. As far as Thranduil was concerned, his father's death was made vain by the weakness of Isildur. This, of course, was entirely Legolas and Aragorn's decision to make, but naming their son after him would be perceived as a huge insult to the elven king, tantamount to spitting in his face. "No, that name is not acceptable," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"What name?" Thranduil's voice broke in. Legolas glanced up to see him stride across the room. Pippin and Merry quickly moved down the bench so that father and son could sit next to each other.

"What are you doing here, Ada?" Legolas asked him.

Thranduil let out a sigh. "King Eomer of Rohan brought the children to the garden I was walking in," he explained as he picked an apple up off the table and placed it in his son's hand. "I found that it would be more peaceful to join you instead." He turned a respectfully restrained pointed gaze to Faramir and Eowyn. "Now, I adore children as much as anyone else, but must I really be the balrog every time young Findowyn gets out her sword?"

"She thinks that you don't have enough fun," Eowyn offered in explanation. "And the girls played tea party yesterday."

"Yes, well," Thranduil hedged. "It seems that I've arrived in time for an important debate. Are you deciding what to call my grandchild?"

"Yes sire," said Faramir. "Your son, in fact, has just rejected the council's choice of Isildur."

A shadow passed over the older elf's face at the mention of the name. "As well he should," he replied darkly. Legolas leaned against him and put his head on his shoulder. The comforting gesture brought Thranduil back to the present and he smiled down at his son. "Please eat, my Little Greenleaf. You must keep up your strength."

Dutifully, Legolas brought the apple to his lips and started taking large, dramatic bites. "He should have a strong elvish name," Thranduil continued, bemused when the mouthful of fruit kept Legolas from responding. "That is what happens when you get cheeky with your father, ion nin. I know that you wanted to say, and I disagree. An elvish name would be entirely appropriate. After all, you are an elf and Aragorn has elvish blood in his lineage while you have no Man-blood. Why should the child then not be named for both of your bloodlines? It would be a fitting tribute to your daerada to call him Oropher."

"King Thranduil's right!" agreed Sam enthusiastically. "I just love elvish names and there are a lot of fine ones out there. "Oropher's wonderful; as is Elrond, after your father, Mr. Strider. Oh, and that name from the story that Mr. Bilbo told me a long time ago! What was it? That's right: Gil-galad."

"Those are great names of very noble elves," noted Aragorn thoughtfully. "Perhaps too great. That would be much to ask a child to live up to. At any rate, it would not feel right to name him after members and close friends of one of our family's to the exclusion of the other's."

Faramir frowned. "He will have to rise up to some level of greatness eventually," he reminded them. "Still, it would probably be wise not to sow the seeds of expectation on such a grand level. What if you named him in honor of a great person that you know?"

"But that leads us back to the question of who that person would be," debated Legolas good-naturedly. "As Aragorn said, it wouldn't be right to name him after only one side of the family. That narrows the list significantly; down to two, in fact: Boromir and Theoden. But it wouldn't feel right to select any of those names, to which you, Eowyn, and Eomer should have sole claim."

Pippin's eyes brightened as he bounced in his seat. "I know! I know!" he cried out in excitement. "You should call him Gandalf, or Mithrandir – yes that sounds even more proper. It's an elvish name and you both knew him as well as anyone could."

"Talk about having a grand name and great expectations to grow into," commented Merry with a roll of his eyes.

Legolas leaned back against Aragorn as the debate continued. "I'm afraid that our son will have no name at all if we continue to carry on like this," he said serenely.

"There is still time," Aragorn assured him with a warm smile. "I think we'll need to see him before deciding on anything for certain. You'll see, my love; after his birth, we can hold him together and the perfect name will come to us."

A thought – a feeling, really – passed through Legolas' mind just then that chilled him. Something told him that things would not transpire as Aragorn had just predicted, that they would not be able to hold their son together after he was born. 'No,' he banished that thought with a slight shake of his head. He was no Elrond, no Galadriel, and certainly no Mithrandir; this feeling was surely the result of his anxiety over the baby's well being and name, not a premonition of the future. He smiled at his husband and vowed to give it no more of his attention.

To be continued…