Aragorn sighed in blissful relief when he felt one of Legolas'wonderfully warm hands hold his cheek while the other one stroked his freezing forehead. How silly had he been, thinking that a closed window would be sufficient in holding off this unnatural chill? Nothing – nothing – would ever compare to the heat that forever radiated from his husband. Even mortality hadn't been enough to permanently rob the elf of his innate warmth and the Man knew why: that's just who his husband was. Whether he was snuggling closer to Aragorn to keep him warm on a cold winter's night, offering comforting words after something particularly difficult had happened, or kindling a fire in his husband's body through the most intimate joining, Legolas was heat.

Never before had Aragorn needed the heat that was his husband so badly. "Hold me, my love," he pleaded. "Make me feel warm again."

Legolas was torn. Every impulsive instinct that he felt just wanted to take the Man into his arms, kiss him all over, and somehow magically heal him just by loving this strange, sudden illness away. However, he was also a practical being and intellectually he understood that while their love was powerful enough to change Middle-earth it wasn't quite equipped to successfully treat something like this. Moreover, the prince knew enough about healing and mortals to realize that sharing body heat with a feverish person probably wasn't the best idea.

With one last regretful caress, Legolas pulled his hands back. "Aragorn," he began as he started to move away from his seated husband.

The Man caught one of Legolas' arms and pulled that wonderful source of heat back toward him, nestling his head against the elf's stomach. "You're so warm," he murmured happily. His tone reminded Legolas of the first time that little Laurelin had ever seen a real baby: awed, elated, and so achingly tender that it made him want to hold him in his arms forever. "Is it to be wondered that they call you the Sun Star?"

"That's not how I got that title," replied Legolas gently. "At least, that's not what all the songs were about."

"Because they didn't know you," said Aragorn softly, pressing a kiss into his stomach. "All they could see was your golden beauty, but I – I am your husband. You share the heat of the sun with me and only me. Oh, my dearest, loveliest, most desirable love! The barest of your most tender touches, one flash of yearning in your eyes, is enough to melt the snow off of Caradhas."

"You don't remember the last time that we were on Caradhas, do you?" remarked Legolas dryly as he recalled the vicious snowstorm and avalanche that had attacked the Fellowship during the Quest.

"Mmmmmmmmm," Aragorn hummed nonsensically while trying to pull the elf down onto his lap.

Legolas easily maintained his balance. "Aragorn, can you understand a word that I'm saying?" he asked worriedly. The Man's arms snaked around his body, latching together at the small of his back. Legolas tested the hold as delicately as he could and found that he couldn't free himself from his husband's grasp without using more force than he was comfortable with when Aragorn was obviously so ill. "My love, you're not feeling well. We must get you to a healer at once."

Why wasn't Legolas holding him? Aragorn could hear everything that he was saying but was having a lot of trouble focusing on it because not all of the words were making sense. Oh, why did he have to play word games when it was so cold! Maybe Legolas was mad at him for some reason…but why? The elf had said something about healers – something about Aragorn needing to go see one – but that couldn't be, since Legolas was the one who was pregnant.

That was it! Aragorn laughed ruefully. It was no wonder that Legolas wasn't in the mood to be affectionate! "I won't ask you to go to the Houses of Healing anymore," he promised with as much conviction as his oddly waning strength would allow him to muster. Perhaps he should try getting a little more sleep that night – it wouldn't do to be so exhausted that he wouldn't be able to support his husband when it came time to deliver. "I'm sure that the babies are just fine. They're probably close enough to being born that one missed check-up won't mean too much."

"The twins were born yesterday, my love," Legolas told him as he petted the back of Aragorn's head. His fever was boiling so much that it seemed to be making his sweat there scalding hot. "Don't you remember the all-day-long labor, or holding the girls afterward? You cannot have forgotten their first night: Meren and Gilraen made it so that neither of us got much rest!"

"My mother's name was Gilraen," noted Aragorn dreamily, all while trying to get closer still to Legolas. If he continued on like that, pretty soon the only way he'd be able to come nearer would be to actually crawl under the prince's skin.

"I know," replied Legolas kindly, backing up as much as he could without breaking Aragorn's hold and hoping that the bit of distance would help keep his body heat away from his overheated husband. "And mine's was Meren; that's why we chose the names. Oh my love, I understand about not wanting to go to the Houses. At least let me bring a healer to you, or better yet your brothers. Yes, they will be discreet about your condition so that you won't have a bunch of advisors knocking at the door tomorrow to see how you are. Please let me do this for you; you must see, Aragorn, that you are quite ill."

Aragorn responded by pushing up the elf's sleeve and slowly planting soft, wet kisses up his arm. "You're so beautiful," he said reverently while deftly untying Legolas' green night robe.

"Aragorn…"

The king slipped his hands under the garment and moved the fabric aside while rubbing Legolas chest the whole time. When it was hanging enticingly from off of Legolas' arms, revealing that he was only clad in a simple pair of leggings, Aragorn brushed his lips against his belly before opening his mouth and dragging it up to the elf's chest. "Come to bed. We shall make a real fire, one that will rival even that of Mount Doom."

"We don't need anything that hot, not right now," Legolas tried to dissuade him.

Aragorn usually enjoyed it when Legolas made him play the part of the seducer while the prince was the hesitant prey, but not at that moment. While he couldn't deny that it was arousing, he hoped that his husband wouldn't make him wait for too long. Smiling slyly to himself, Aragorn decided that he was just going to have to provide a little more incentive. "I long to make love to you," he purred, taking one of Legolas' nipples into his mouth and sucking it and teasing it with the tip of his tongue. "You have but to give in and I will worship every part of your body with my mouth before taking you, touching you in places and ways that only I have or ever will touch you…"

Fantastic; his delirious husband was trying to seduce him. And doing an admirable job of it too – had the circumstances been different Legolas would have been shedding his leggings and bringing himself down onto Aragorn's lap by now. The knowledge of Aragorn's condition, however, kept the elf from even wanting to respond in any other way but concern, some vexation, and a little fear. Legolas might have even been able to see the humor in the situation had it not been so serious. "Aragorn, please," he said, attempting to keep his exasperation at bay. "This isn't only utterly ridiculous – it's also potentially dangerous. Your fever must be treated! Let me help you."

"Help me?" Aragorn gave the nipple one last lingering lick and stopped his ministrations. His face brightened – most of what Legolas had said hadn't made sense, but it sounded like he was surrendering! "You yield to me then, and seek permission to undress me? You don't have to ask, my love; especially not when I'm doing this," he added, ducking his head to attack the ties of the leggings with his teeth.

Trying to reason with him obviously wasn't going to work; it was time for a new strategy. "Ai, but I would never dream of doing anything so – bold – to the virile Man who so ruthlessly conquered me without his permission," he purred. Gently easing Aragorn's head up before he could do much to the ties, he kissed the Man deeply while subtly easing away. "But before you so thoroughly take me, allow me to go out and impress upon the guards how important it is to not let anyone enter our chambers without our consent. You know how intimidating Ada and Gimli can be when I'm…pregnant."

"Good idea," agreed Aragorn, though he hated to see Legolas' beautiful body hidden again as the elf retied his robe. "I don't want to risk having anyone interrupt us. After all, we'll get precious little time alone after the twins are born; we should be free to savor moments like this now."

"You are quite right, my husband," said Legolas. He leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on Aragorn's mouth; Elbereth, even his lips felt feverish. "I'll be back as soon as possible. Will you do something for me in the meantime?"

"Name it."

"Don't go burying yourself in the covers again," requested Legolas. He wondered for a second if he should also ask him to get undressed but decided against it. He didn't want to think about how he'd get Aragorn back into his clothing if he needed to be moved. "I'll take care of whatever cold you feel soon enough. I promise, Aragorn: I will make you feel better soon."

One of the last things that Aragorn wanted was to give him his word that he wouldn't crawl back under the warm blankets when Legolas was gone and there was nothing else to hold back the frigid air. On the other hand, he knew the covers produced only a pale imitation of the heat created when he and Legolas made love. The prince seemed to be in a playful mood tonight and he didn't want to risk prolonging this agony just because he was too hesitant to give up a temporary fix by not complying. He could try playing along. "Why?" he asked in what was supposed to be an authoritative tone. "You are the one who yielded, thus putting you at the mercy of my commands; why is my fair conquered one requesting such a silly thing?"

'Because being under them can't be good for your fever,' answered Legolas silently as he watched a drop of sweat slide down his cheek. He was tempted to just snatch the sheets away and take them with him but he didn't want to do anything that would alarm the Man in his delusional state. "I don't like the idea of there being so many layers of fabric between our bodies," he said aloud with an amorous grin.

Aragorn nodded slowly and looked forlornly at his husband's covered body. "I can understand that all too well."

Legolas watched with more than a little relief as Aragorn dutifully shoved all of the blankets off of the bed, leaving only the top sheet that covered the mattress. "You know how to please me in every way, my love," murmured the elf. "Now wait right here. I'll be back momentarily to…take care of your needs."

Turning as nonchalantly as he could, Legolas made his way out of the bedchamber and quietly closed the door behind him. After checking on Meren and Gilraen – and sending a silent thanks to Elbereth that the two infants were mercifully still asleep – he hurried out into the corridor. "Beren!" he called in a hissing whisper. "Mardil! Come at once, please!"

Two sets of footsteps sounded in the darkened hallway and the two guards appeared almost instantly at Legolas' side. "Good evening, my prince," said Mardil, glad that the dark was there to hide the fact that he was blushing. He'd seen the prince consort in his robe only once before, back when he was young and inexperienced; when a clash between Thranduil and Gloin, Gimli's father, made him burst into the royal bedchamber without knocking. Legolas had never seriously minded and Mardil had possessed the good grace to keep quiet about it, but he was still greatly embarrassed whenever he remembered how he saw the gorgeous Prince Legolas Thranduilion of Gondor and Mirkwood in the nude. "Do you require anything of us?"

"Yes," replied Legolas thoughtfully as he deliberated on how to word this. On the one hand, Aragorn was sick and needed immediate attention; on the other hand, he had never been very skilled at judging human illness and didn't want to alarm anyone needlessly, or make it appear like his husband didn't have the constitution to handle being sick at all. "I need your assistance. I'm afraid that the king is feeling a bit under the weather."

"Oh no!" exclaimed Beren. "Would you like us to send word to the Houses of Healing?"

"No," hesitated Legolas, weighing his options carefully. Even if he wasn't trying to be a little discreet, he still wouldn't have automatically chosen to do that. "No, I – I don't believe that we need to bother anyone there at this point in time. There's no reason for it when the lords Elladan and Elrohir are only a few corridors away and more than sufficiently rested from yesterday's labors." – 'As if they were doing all of the work!' – Mardil, please rouse them for me."

"They might be very reluctant to do so," replied Mardil. "Do you wish me to go to the Houses if they don't wake up?"

"No, I wish you to use whatever means necessary," said Legolas wryly. "And when they've have enough wits about them to understand a word that you're saying, inform them that King Elessar is running a little fever and that I would like them to come to our bedchamber as soon as possible."

The guard bowed. "Yes, your majesty," he said promptly and rushed off to do his prince's bidding.

Beren waited until his colleague's footsteps had faded away before taking one step closer to Legolas. "What would you have me do, sire?" he asked in a low, urgent voice. "Please, I beg of you to give me an order that would help you! I intend no disrespect, but I know that there must be more to this than what you just told us. Why else would you not just take the king to the Houses or wake the elf lords yourself?"

"Good Beren," said Legolas, feeling somewhat comforted. The guard's familiarity with the royal family all but ensured that at least one of the people in charge of protecting them could tell when something was wrong without being told. Legolas was glad that he was learning when to break through the barriers of propriety and decorum to make this gift useful. "The king has been afflicted with some sort of sudden fever. He – he doesn't seem to remember what's happened in the last couple of days; he thinks I'm still pregnant! I must find a way to cool him down before he's hurt permanently, but I don't know how. Such a thing has never happened to him before!"

"But it has to other Men, including once to my second son when he was but a young Man," said Beren to reassure him. "Don't worry, my prince; this is not uncommon, nor is it likely to be too serious if we act quickly. May I suggest that the king is bathed in warm water as soon as can be?"

Legolas automatically shook his head when he heard the word warm. "I don't want him to get any hotter than he already is," he protested. "Bathing him sounds like a good idea, but shouldn't the water be cool?"

"No, your majesty," Beren told him solemnly. "Cool water would end up making him shiver and the movement from shivering would just make him all the more hot and feverish. Warm water would soothe him while cooling him off."

"Very good then," said Legolas, calmed by the fact that there was something he could do for Aragorn before the twins got there. "Go at once, Beren, and tell one of the servants to prepare a bath that is not too cold but also not too hot. Return here as quickly as you can too! I'll need someone to tell the twins where King Elessar and I are and, if they decide that both of them need to tend to the king, I'll need you to watch over the babies."

Beren looked as if he wanted to object. "But can we not both give this order to a servant and just take the king and the princesses with us?" he fretted. "I cannot in good conscience leave any of you unprotected during his time of illness. Who will make sure that nothing happens to you if I'm not there?"

"Believe me, Beren," said Legolas in an even, deadly tone, "if anyone tries to interfere with my husband's well being I will make them regret it. My heart tells me that it would be better to have you make sure that no harm befalls my daughters. Now go!"

The loyal guard bowed and sprinted off in the direction of the servants' quarters. With the orders given and the guards carrying them out, Legolas went back into the bedchamber. "My husband!" he cried in shock at the sight that awaited him.

Aragorn thankfully had kept his word not to wrap himself up in the blankets. Instead he was sprawled out on top of the bed, humming a made-up tune…utterly naked. Upon hearing Legolas' voice he grinned broadly and scrounged up enough strength to prop himself up on his elbows into what he believed would be a lust-inducing pose. "I've reduced the amount of fabric that stands between our bodies as much as I could," he answered in a husky tone. "Come to me, my love, and soon all that will be covering your skin will be me."

This was not how Legolas needed the situation to go. Aragorn needed to go to the baths right away and it would be nice if he could maintain some dignity while he did so! It was time to think on his feet once again; Legolas played with the ties on his robe to stall for time until something came to him. "Ai, Aragorn," he blurted out excitedly as he figured out the perfect plan. "I just had a marvelously delicious idea. It's been too long since we made love in the bath. Let us correct that folly tonight – right now."

But that would mean venturing out even more into the frigid air while waiting even longer for the relief that Legolas could give him; Aragorn certainly didn't like the thought of that. "But I just went through all the trouble of taking off –"

His words died on his tongue when Legolas reached under his own robe and pulled off his leggings. "Shh," whispered the elf seductively, all while looking so coyly at him with those loving blue eyes. "We haven't gotten to the delicious part yet. I want us to do something a little naughty."

"I'm listening," said Aragorn eagerly.

"We have to act all proper and dignified all the time," Legolas purred. "Some of your best – performances – have happened when we defied that somehow, like the time we made love on your throne or when you used your mouth so nicely that little closet before we went to court. We could do something like that now; we could go to the baths in naught but our robes. Please, my Aragorn – I get so incredibly aroused at the idea of knowing that only a little bit of fabric is all that's keeping up our royal image. If you do this for me, I'd be willing to do that thing with my tongue that you like in return."

Aragorn's face was so flush with fever and desire that it was beet red. Legolas mentally kicked himself for taking the feigned seduction so far that it teetered toward doing more harm than good. "I'll take you on your word," panted the king. "But not yet. Some things are worth waiting for until after the twins are born – when we'll have more freedom to maneuver."

"And I'll make it all the better because of it," vowed Legolas sincerely. When Aragorn was feeling better he was going to do all that he promised that night and more.

First things first, though; Legolas took Aragorn's red robe, slipped it onto the Man, and secured it shut before helping him rise to his feet. Stumbling along with him, the prince fretted about how he was going to explain the presence of two babies in their antechamber when Aragorn was under the impression that he was still pregnant. However, for good or ill it turned out to be a moot point: Aragorn only made it halfway across the bedchamber before his illness caused him to faint.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

While Legolas was frantically attending to his feverish husband, Eldarion – clueless about the turmoil in his parents' bedchamber – walked out along the streets of Gondor. Technically he wasn't supposed to be out that late. 'But technically,' he thought self-loathingly, 'I also wasn't supposed to almost kill Ada and I still managed to do that.' He'd been dealing with those kinds of thoughts ever since he spoke with his fathers that morning. They seemed to hang thick in the air of his bedchamber until it was so stifling in there that he had to talk his guard into letting him go for a walk.

This had put the guard in an awkward position. He knew that the king and prince consort normally wouldn't approve, but he also was aware that they were upset that Prince Eldarion had stayed in his bedchamber for so long. In the end he decided that they probably wouldn't mind a little walk too much – as long as he kept a close watch on the boy. However, he had been growing increasingly nervous as the crown prince walked further and further down the levels of Minas Tirith. Finally, as they approached the man gates out of the city he felt compelled to speak up. "My prince?" asked the guard. "Shouldn't we head back to the citadel now?"

Eldarion stopped and stared at the gates. "I shouldn't be allowed to go back there," he said sadly. "I don't deserve to be my parents' son."

"I don't know why you'd think such a thing but I'm sure that it's not true," replied the guard, more nervous than ever. It hadn't occurred to him before that the prince might actually try to run away and he didn't want to think about what would happen if the boy did just that on his watch. "Prince Eldarion –"

He stopped short at the sound of raised voices coming from the other side of the gate. "What do you mean coming here at this time of night?" demanded a voice that he was sure belonged to a fellow guard. "It is not our custom to open our gates to foreigners without the king's leave!"

"Prince Eldarion," whispered the boy's guard frantically. The situation was getting out of hand – now someone was trying to rush the gates! "Please come with me now!"

Curiosity slowed Eldarion's movements and he was standing in the middle of the road, almost completely vulnerable, when the gates gave way. A whole party made up of four hooded horsemen, one walking while hidden by shadows, and many wagons burst through. Panicking now, the guard rushed forward and threw himself in front of the prince. "In the name of King Elessar of Gondor," he shouted, drawing his sword, "I command you to stop!"

It was then when the walking figure stepped forward. "Lower your weapon," he said. It was Bergil, who was acting as one of the gate guards that night. "I'm sorry if our joking caused any alarm, but it's just a returning messenger of the king." He paused and raised an eyebrow when he spotted the person behind his colleague. "Prince Eldarion? What are you doing here?"

"Never mind what he's doing here," said the guard fiercely, eying the host suspiciously. "You said that there was only one messenger; who are the rest?"

"Just a bunch of people who tagged along, as a few of us have been wont to do in the past," answered a tired but naturally breezy voice from atop of one of the horses. He rode forward until there was enough light on him to reveal his face. "I don't blame you for being wary, though; it's not often that you see our kind traveling at night, and our large number makes it even more unusual. But here we are and we have business with your king as well as Prince Legolas and the lad behind you. Ho there, Eldarion! Come say hello to your Uncle Pippin!"

To be continued…