A/N: Sorry this is a little late; the site wouldn't let me log in this morning so I had to wait until after work.

Despite the importance of what he was concentrating on, Elladan couldn't help looking up to steal a glance at the figure perched in an awkward position on the bed. 'He looks like he's about to collapse from exhaustion,' he thought, shaking his head with worry and amazement.

Even if he hadn't known for a fact that the poor creature hadn't been getting much rest as the twins' ('How strange it is to think of people besides Elrohir and myself as 'the twins'!') due date approached, he still would have been able to figure it out without difficulty just by looking at him. His eyes were bloodshot and adorned with dark circles underneath, a clear sign of many sleepless nights. His hair was soaked with sweat and hideously unruly, though that wasn't unexpected considering that he wouldn't have had time to wash and comb it in the last twelve hours. All and all, his expression and body language were etched with an overall fatigue that became more and more apparent as the labor stretched on. Elladan could only guess that the same rush that they'd all felt before in battle was the only thing that was keeping the soon-to-be new father from falling asleep.

And Aragorn wasn't even the one who was actually having the babies.

The Man had, however, remained firmly at his husband's side ever since Legolas' contractions started when the sun had not yet risen. It was a commendable accomplishment, when two facts were taken into consideration: first, that it was now late in the afternoon and, two, that the elf prince was not in a very good mood. A lesser Man might have quailed long ago but Aragorn stayed, smiling and encouraging his beloved. "You're doing wonderfully, my love," he said with a brainless sort of cheerfulness that made him marvel even as the words fell out of his mouth. Was that really him? Where was the wise king of Men, or the noble commander who'd led an army to do battle outside of the Black Gates, or the fearless ranger who dared to go into the most evil places of the world in order to atone for the sins of his ancestors?

'Perhaps not even any of them would dare venture into this room right now,' he thought dryly as Legolas gave him a dark look that promised bodily injury, a verbal tongue-lashing, and banishment from their bed. The elf was usually so good at controlling his emotions, but Aragorn found out five years ago at their daughter Laurelin's birth that being in labor made that gift diminish greatly. That wasn't the only gift that wasn't at its full potency either; as an elf, Legolas was usually unaffected by the heat but being pregnant apparently made him more susceptible to it (Aragorn didn't know if that was just because of the pregnancy or if Legolas' mortality was a factor in it too, nor did he ask as he figured that either way the Man held some responsibility for it).

The heat had also led to the unfortunate situation concerning the door to the healing chamber where Legolas was giving birth. With Aragorn being a Man and the elf being affected by the heat, the room couldn't get too hot lest they face the dangers that went along with dehydration. Now Legolas, who so greatly disliked having healers – even Elladan and Elrohir – examine his private areas, now had to have the door wide open in the hopes of creating some sort of cooling breeze. That was the position he was currently in: hot, sweaty, in pain, bored, exposing himself with no privacy, and forced to listen to his husband tell him how good he was doing. It was enough to drive him insane.

The king, commander, and ranger in Aragorn didn't know how to deal with the elf in that situation but luckily the Man had another side to him: the husband of Legolas. That persona was good, loving, and thick-skinned; he knew that it was his job to comfort and support Legolas during this trying time and he took that task very seriously. "You can do it," he went on, trying not to notice how the prince's eyes narrowed tempestuously. "Everything is going to be just fine, Legolas; it will be all over soon. You just need to relax as best you can and breathe."

"Thank Elbereth you're here, Aragorn," said Legolas sarcastically. "Relax and breathe! And here I was, about to ride all the way to the Shire to deliver the invitations to Eldarion's birthday celebration to the hobbits myself! Right after I went to the city's training grounds to demonstrate hand-to-hand combat to all of the new guards, of course. How was I supposed to know that relaxing and breathing was the best thing I could do in this situation?"

Aragorn managed to not let his expression waver during the tirade. At the end of the bed Elladan cleared his throat and Elrohir ignored them all.

"It's not as if I've done anything like given birth before," Legolas continued to rant. "Our other two children, after all, simply fell out of the sky. I'm glad you're here to keep me from doing anything foolish! Do you have any other pearls of wisdom?"

"Legolas –"

"Come now," snapped the elf, glaring at his poor husband. "There has to be something else. I was thinking about challenging Gimli to a drinking contest; do you have any advice concerning that?"

Aragorn clamped his teeth down on his tongue, the sting he felt at the moment preferable to saying anything that he'd regret as soon as it left his mouth. How he wished that the twins would be born as quickly as possible! He desperately wanted to hold the children that he'd been eagerly awaiting for about seven months; his concern for Legolas and the children's welfare grew in proportion to how long the labor continued; and he was looking forward to the moment when his husband would come back and the orc that had temporarily taken over his body would be banished.

Until then, though, he would have to endure Legolas' orkish behavior. "What?" tsked Legolas in mock surprise. "Have you no advice at all?"

The elf prince stared at Aragorn, silently and abstinently darning him to say something. When nothing came out, he turned his head as much as he could manage to call out the open door. "Gimli! What do you say, my dear friend? The two of us, several barrels of ale, the last one standing wins?"

"I say that you're wasting too much energy on shouting to me and not enough on the important task that you should be concentrating on!" Gimli called back, his voice coming from somewhere in the small room directly outside the healing chamber. "Stop being so cheeky and let Aragorn be!"

"I'm afraid that I have to concur," chimed in Elrohir as his hands scurried to grab a nearby clean cloth to use to apply more of the poultice of the herb Golden Crown to Legolas' skin in order to control the potentially deadly bleeding that accompanied male birth in elves. "As entertaining as all of this banter may be you need to conserve your strength, mellon nin."

"Because, of course, I usually have no strength to speak of –"

"I am not your husband, Legolas," said Elrohir in a very Elrond-like voice. "You're very fortunate that Estel will put up with so much abuse, but do not make the mistake of thinking that such tolerance extends into his brothers. We're trying to help you and would appreciate it if you would cooperate."

Legolas went tense as yet another sharp pain hit him. "I'm sorry," he groaned. "It's – I'm – how much longer is this going to continue? It's never taken me this long to give birth before?"

The twins and Aragorn might have dismissed this complaint with only gratuitous words of comfort and internal wondering at how impatient and emotional Legolas got during labor had it not been for the twinge of fear in his tone. Almost thirteen years of calmly – for the most part – dealing with his children's illnesses, bumps and bruises, one broken arm, and times of emotional heartache had not totally rid the trauma of Eldarion's birth from Legolas' mind. Not even experiencing the way that births should go with Laurelin could stop the elf from thinking in some corner of his mind that this birth would go wrong and it would be all his fault. Deep down he would always carry the scars of the night when he was bleeding and didn't know why, afraid of losing his child, and hoping that he would live long enough to see the boy.

"Eldarion's birth was probably only a little bit shorter than this," Elladan reminded him comfortingly. "I know that it might not seem that way, but that's because you didn't realize that you were in labor until much later on in the process. Even then it took a few hours; don't you remember?"

"That night – is – hazy," responded Legolas through gritted teeth. Another contraction – it would be time to start pushing soon. "I kept – drifting – in, in – and out – of – consciousness."

A wave of cold despair washed over Aragorn as he recalled the night of his first child's birth – the night when he'd been sent from his husband's side when he needed to be with him most. The night he spent lost in his own hopeless thoughts as each minute stretched into a life-age. "It did take quite a long time," he offered softly.

"As for Laurelin's birth," Elladan went on, sparing Aragorn a small understanding smile, "that actually took about the same time as Eldarion's. It probably didn't seem that way because you let Estel talk you into coming to stay at the Houses of Healing over a week before the labor actually started. As I recall, you were so stir-crazy by the time that the contractions started that I think you were just grateful to have something new to occupy your time."

As it unsurprisingly turned out, Legolas hadn't been the only one who'd been traumatized by Eldarion's birth. The years that laid between the boy's birth and that of Laurelin's was not by pure happenstance, nor was the decision to have a second child an easy one even though both of them wanted to have more of them. Upon learning that his husband was pregnant again Aragorn had insisted on taking ever precaution imaginable. They'd contacted Elladan and Elrohir immediately and the twins had responded in kind, traveling to Minas Tirith right away and not stepping foot out of the city for five months until after the princess had been born. Thranduil had moved back into the citadel; officially to help Legolas and keep an eye on his grandchild and unofficially to act as an extra set of eyes watching out for any potential dangers. Legolas' diet and weight had been closely monitored. His traveling had been restricted to within the city walls and never, ever alone.

Aragorn's vigilance only grew more obsessive the closer the due date got. A month before the baby was supposed to arrive – about the time that Legolas had gone into premature labor with Eldarion – the nervous Man had done everything he could to make sure that absolutely no stress was introduced into his husband's life (something that ironically made Legolas more anxious, thinking of all the things that Aragorn was trying to protect him from). He also convinced the elf to consent to frequent examinations so that the bleeding could be detected quickly once it started. Finally, when there was only a week left until the due date, Legolas – and Aragorn with him – had moved what had become the royal chamber in the Houses, which he hadn't come to like any better since the last pregnancy. After all of that, Laurelin had actually come a couple of days late. In all of his planning, Aragorn hadn't stopped to consider that particular circumstance and it had almost driven him to distraction with worry; which in turn exhausted his two brothers who were stuck answering his anxious and often inane questions.

Legolas had tolerated all of this extremely well back then – after all, the only other pregnancy he had to compare it to had been that of his son's – but now that he had more first-hand experience the same hadn't held true. He'd balked when Aragorn suggested he spend more time at the Houses than absolutely necessary and had even taken Eldarion and Laurelin on a ride to Ithilien during the earlier months, against his husband's protestations, to see of some of the elves who were taking the ships to Valinor. Legolas' more relaxed behavior had clashed with Aragorn's fussiness and caused a few terrific 'loud disagreements' between the married couple but Elladan and Elrohir were secretly thrilled by the change in the elf this time around. Both knew that Legolas' pregnancy would go a lot better if he wasn't so constantly apprehensive about all of the nitpicky things that he could do to in order to keep the babies safe and healthy.

It wasn't without its amusing moments either. The twins still snickered when they remembered the first night that Aragorn had tried to check for bleeding during this pregnancy. When Legolas had been pregnant with Laurelin, the king had gotten into the habit of simply parting his husband's legs and examining him while he slept. Legolas had grown used to it then, accepting them as necessary and sleeping through the nocturnal inspections, but like most things it had been different this time. When the eighth month had rolled around, Aragorn had done as he always did and grabbed one of the elf's legs to move him into position. Before he could get hold of the other, however, a startled and groggy Legolas had blindly lashed out kicking. The man had born the black of he'd received when his husband's foot connected with his face for a long time.

He was going to get another one momentarily too, if he didn't keep his actions in check. Legolas might have been sorry for being so sarcastic but that didn't mean that his fuse wasn't still very short, especially when Aragorn kept getting too close to him. "Mela," the Man began to comfort him, grabbing Legolas' shoulders and pressing up against his back to support him.

"Don't touch me!" ordered Legolas sharply. "Ai Elbereth, is it not sweltering enough in here for you already? Must we exchange body heat as well?"

"Legolas, you need to get ready to push," Elrohir told him.

The words made Aragorn instinctively wrap his arms around the elf's upper body. "We're almost there," he said excitedly.

"Where? The fires of Mordor?" demanded Legolas; the pain, his position, and his pregnant belly making it impossible for him to pull away no matter how much he tried. "That's what it feels like. I think I'm melting!"

"When I tell you, start pushing," instructed Elrohir. "Of course, it would be helpful if you were conscious at the time, so please don't do anything that might make him pass out, Aragorn."

"I'm sorry," apologized Aragorn for lack of a better response. He was grateful when Elladan gave him a sympathetic nod. Moving away so that he wouldn't be touching Legolas so much, he continued, "I was just going to say, before all the pushing talk came up, was that there is probably nothing to worry about, mela nin. The fact that there are two babies instead of one is what's most likely making it take a little longer."

Legolas muttered something under his breath that Aragorn decided it was probably best that he hadn't heard. "Everything's going to be fine," the Man babbled on. "As it has before in other generations – do you realize that twins run in my family?"

"If that's the case then castration should also run in your family!" snapped Legolas.

Another, fiercer labor pain struck him and Legolas grasped Aragorn's hand.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Outside the chamber in a smaller waiting area where five people were waiting, a pair of large gray eyes grew even wider than before and the young boy to whom they belonged blushed. "Should – should," he stammered awkwardly though his appropriate embarrassment. "Should I inform the Council –"

"You should inform them that Prince Legolas is still in labor but it is coming to an end soon," supplied Faramir, the steward of Gondor, smoothly. "That's all that they need to know, all that they care about, and all that I'm sure the king and prince would want you to share, Minardil."

The messenger boy instinctively glanced toward the open door of the birthing chamber, making sure not to actually peek inside (although, in truth, he wouldn't have been able to see anything; once Aragorn realized that Legolas would most likely deliver during the heat wave he took great pains to ensure that the bed wouldn't be visible to anyone outside the chamber unless that person was actually standing at the doorway looking in). "Prince Legolas sounds like he's really mad at King Elessar," he noted timidly.

"Prince Legolas is trying to pass two people out of his body and what is probably the hottest, muggiest day in many years," Eowyn, who was sitting at her husband's side, reminded him. "I'd be shocked his mood was anything other than terrible. Don't fret, child; once the babies are born they'll be back to their shockingly affectionate selves."

"But maybe I should tell the Council about the prince's request that the king do this castration," suggested Minardil innocently and ignorantly. "It sounds like he'd like it if King Elessar did it."

"Very few things would make the prince more unhappy," said Faramir tactfully, smothering the laugh that threatened to burst as he imagined the look on the advisors' faces if Minardil was to bring that suggestion before them. That was not to say that the noblemen who advised the king on political matters hadn't gotten some sort of sense of humor in the past years; it was probably just a good idea to keep humor about castrating the king between members of the royal couple's make-shift family. "Tell them only what I instructed you to."

"Yes, my lord," said Minardil automatically but not insincerely.

"After that, return here at once," said Faramir. "Really, I wouldn't have you leave now if we hadn't given them our word that we'd provide them with hourly updates. The Council will need to know when the twins are born as soon as possible and it doesn't sound like it'll take another hour."

Minardil bowed and, after sparing one more backwards glance toward the chamber where his prince and king were, took of in a sprint. "Poor Legolas," sympathized Eowyn. "I remember quite well the difficult process of childbirth. I guess I didn't realize until now how fortunate I was that Findowyn and Theomir were born during the mild weather of the spring!"

"What about the next one?" inquired Faramir with teasing innocence. "You could always end up having to give birth in the hot summer or on the harshest day of winter the next time that you get pregnant."

"I'm sorry to inform you that there will most definitely not be a next time," insisted Eowyn wryly. One of her hands went up to her hair and she combed her fingers through the graying blonde locks. "Theomir feels like enough of a handful and he's as introspective and sweet-tempered as his father. I think that's a clear indication that I'm getting too old to handle anymore children." She playfully grabbed a fistful of Faramir's hair with her free and gave it a gentle tug. "Though not as old as you," she added with joking concern.

Faramir grinned good-naturedly and tenderly removed Erwin's hold. Once freed, he shook his head vigorously so that his hair – which had long been completely grayish white by the time his son had been born – flew all over. "Are you implying that the color of my hair gives off the impression that your virile husband has reached the age of infirmity?" he demanded in his formal tone.

Eowyn gave him an 'of course' look that made Faramir burst out laughing. "My dear wife, I have spent a lifetime dealing with the demands and disapproval of my father, a king who didn't always embrace all of the aspects of his position, a prince consort with a stubborn will of his own, years of being the go-between with the monarchy and the noblemen, a daughter who preferred slaying imaginary balrogs to learning how to act like a 'proper lady', a son who wears his heart on his sleeve as he pursues a girl who doesn't care as strongly for him yet, and a wife whom many believe is too headstrong to do either of us much good," he recounted jovially. "I'm amazed that I even still have hair. It can be whatever color it needs to be as long as it stays where it is."

Sitting a little ways away from them and closer to the door Gimli sniggered, enjoying the entertainment that the couple's exchange was providing during that afternoon of waiting; but Thranduil, who sat beside him, was too preoccupied with worrying about what was going on in his son's birthing chamber to really register anything that Faramir and Eowyn were bantering about. "It has taken an awfully long time," he fretted. "I know that the other children's births were almost as long but now there are two infants; that could add more stress to Legolas' body and even put him in danger. What do you think, Gimli? Is it a good sign or a bad one?"

"I think that it's the natural way of things and not a sign at all," Gimli informed him. "And I also think that you worry so much about that laddie that it's a wonder that your hair's not gray."

The elven king marveled at the apparent ease that the dwarf had in scoffing and comforting at the same time. "It is a habit that is too ingrained in me to ever lose," said Thranduil.

"And not without reason," conceded Gimli jovially. "But since Legolas gives us plenty of cause for worrying on his own, everyone would be better off if you didn't go looking for more. He's fine, Thranduil! Elladan and Elrohir have been with him since the start of labor; they know what they're doing and so does he."

But if anything were to happen to him or any of my grandchildren –"

Thranduil's voice was cut off by the sound a particularly prolonged loud groan from Legolas, followed by a much higher pitched cry. "I know I shouldn't have sent that boy off," complained Faramir, beaming. "Just a couple more minutes and he could have carried to the advisors word about Gondor's newest prince or princess."

"Princess," Thranduil told him, tears in his eyes. "Legolas has known all along and I know now: Gondor has a new princess – two, once her sister is born."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"I'm not saying that they aren't perfectly adorable," insisted Elladan defensively as he finished cleaning off the younger of the two newborns. Wrapping her in a blanket, he handed her over to her papa. "They're just covered with a lot of unattractive goo, too."

"Your Uncle Elladan has a problem with bodily 'goo'," cooed Aragorn to the child he'd just been given, who was nestled in his arms and staring up at him as if fascinated. "Strange, since he's a healer and should be used to it by now."

"Be quiet, Estel," groaned Elladan. "Honestly, you've been acting all uppity since you turned 100. You seem to think that you're all grown up and forget that you're still our little brother."

"Now, now, children; there's no time for that," scolded Elrohir. "We've got four sets of ears outside, straining to hear everything we're saying while their owners wait for us to invite them in. Are you ready for them, Legolas?"

Legolas pressed a kiss into the brow of the infant in his arms, on the hand of her sister, and finally on Aragorn's lips. "In a few minutes," he decided, "and I wouldn't mind if you two stepped outside as well."

"I suppose we could do that," sighed Elladan dramatically. "But don't send us out there with nothing! At least let us know what the babies' names are, if you've already figured them out."

"We have, long ago," said Legolas with a smile. "Our elder twin will be called Gilraen, after my husband's mother –"

"And the younger will be called Meren, after my husband's mother," completed Aragorn proudly.

"When you go out there could you make sure that word is sent to Eldarion and Laurelin right away?" requested Legolas. "We would have them come as soon as possible to meet their sisters."

The twins nodded and exited, leaving Aragorn and Legolas alone for the first time that day. In that peaceful moment, they sank back against the pillows propped up on the headboard and rested their heads together. Times of utter tranquility were difficult enough to come by in their family and now that they had just doubled the number of children. They were only too happy to soak in as many as they could while they were still available.

To be continued…

A/N: I have no idea what Legolas' mother's name is (in fact, I haven't seen anything about Tolkien actually giving her a name), so I took the name Meren off of a Sindarin name website. It's supposed to mean "joyous."