"This is without a doubt the vilest and most disgusting thing that anyone could ever do ever," declared Eldarion adamantly. He stared down at the components that made up the task that had earned such a title with a disbelieving, mortified expression on his face. "I won't complain about having to go to those stupid Council decorum sessions, any of my lessons, or anything else after this."

"And what exactly are you going on about?" asked Gimli, not bothering to hide the humor in his tone. "Are you complaining because of what you have to do, or are you insulting the reason why you have to do it."

"I think it's a little bit of both, Grandpa Gimli," replied Eldarion. "I mean it – this is the worst."

The boy could hear his other grandfather chuckling from behind him. He was about to ask why both of them found this so funny when the elf gave him an encouraging pat on the back. "If this is truly the worst task that you will ever have to face then you should consider yourself most fortunate indeed," Thranduil told him jokingly with a touch of sageness in his tone. "The world is full of unpleasant toil and the day will, most likely, come sooner than you think that you will face it. I do not doubt that when it happens you will long to be back in this room, doing exactly what you are doing now. Come, my grandson; at the very least going through this trial now will help you learn how to endure later when the really difficult tasks start happening."

Eldarion rolled his eyes upwards to let out a dramatic sigh and then looked back down, crossing his eyes at the source of all his current miseries: baby Meren, who was lying on her back on the small table before him. She had the gall to smile up at him charmingly and the boy felt much of his hostility drain away, although the annoyance remained. "But she's so small," he complained, trying to clean up his sister's mess and put a new diaper on her without getting said mess all over the table – and himself. "How can such a teeny tiny thing make all of – this?"

"That's one of the great mysteries of the world," said Gimli blithely. "Don't think about it too long and hard, lad; you'll lose your mind trying to figure it out. Just do what everyone else who came before you has done: roll up your sleeves, hold your breath, and dream of the day that they're potty-trained."

The boy groaned something that sounded suspiciously like a whine. "That'll take at least two years," he pouted. "I'll be almost an adult by then."

Thranduil choked a little; Gimli nudged him in the side to be quiet but Eldarion was too wrapped up in his complaining to notice. "Tell me again why I even have to learn how to change a diaper," he said.

"You were the one who came here asking us what you could do to help out your parents more," Gimli reminded him. He shook his head in amazement. "Honestly, Eldarion, with all the time you've spent in here this last week I'm surprised that you don't know how to do this already."

"Ada did the changing for a day," replied Eldarion as he ever so gingerly disposed of yet another cleaning cloth in a nearby bin. "Then Papa tried to get him to let him out of bed by saying that he didn't feel like he was helping out enough with the babies. After that Ada made sure that they were sent in to him every time their diapers needed changing."

"That's my Little Greenleaf," smiled Thranduil. Actually, he and Aragorn had worked out their differences years ago and in the time since then he'd come to accept and even grow fond of the Man who'd married his son. That didn't mean, however, that he couldn't get a little enjoyment out of Legolas teasing his husband every now and again. "But seriously, Eldarion, you are a big brother. Why have you not learned to do this before now?"

"I was seven when Laurelin was born," replied Eldarion defensively as he grabbed a clean pin to fasten Meren's diaper shut. "And I was very jealous of her too. I don't think Ada and Papa would have let me anywhere near her with something sharp. Besides, we had servants to do this job whenever they needed a little extra help; come to think of it, we still do. I don't see, in that case, why Ada and Papa even bother to do this when they can tell other to do it."

"Bah!" Thranduil waved his hand dismissively. "Show me the person who cannot make the time or work up the inclination to change their own child's diaper and I will show you a person who has no business being a parent. Do you truly believe that it was servants who did this when you were a baby? Dear Little Acorn, that task belonged to everyone in the family."

Gimli snorted as he remembered the first time he'd ever changed the boy. "And let me tell you," he chimed in, "you didn't exactly smell like fresh flowers back then."

Had it not been for the fact that he was fiddling with something relatively sharp so close to his little sister's tender skin Eldarion might have let out a self-deprecating laugh. "All right," he conceded begrudgingly but in an exaggerated way. "But still, even if changing diapers is a family duty I probably would have avoided it altogether even back then with Laurelin. Remember that I was obsessed with pretending to be a warrior –"

"Was obsessed?" Gimli raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"And really," continued Eldarion, "what warrior would do this?"

Gimli scoffed and the tips of the boy's ears turned red. "Well, I am about to be a warrior-in-training," Eldarion reminded him in a small voice. He wasn't sure if his dwarvish grandfather was just giving him a hard time or else was truly offended but he wasn't especially eager to find out. "You know I don't mean it like what you're thinking; the fact that you two do this doesn't take away from your warrior statuses but I haven't proved myself yet. I want to learn to be Middle-earth's greatest warrior; I don't want people to think that all I'm capable of doing is staying home to mind some baby." His eyes shifted in his head as he went over what he'd just said. "Wait…"

"Just stop speaking, Eldarion; you are only digging yourself in deeper," Thranduil shushed him. "We all have our own paths to follow and yours very well might be to be a warrior, but do not scorn the work that those who tend to children do. Warriors may defend a land but without children their efforts would be in vain."

"What do you mean, Daerada?" asked Eldarion, confused.

"By protecting their realms the warriors ensures that their civilization will survive, but that can last only as long as the warrior can fight," said Thranduil wisely. "By making sure that children grow up physically healthy with honor and knowledge of the past those who mind the children give their realm all that it needs to survive long after the warriors pass on. Both tasks are important, my grandson; do you understand why?"

"Yes, Daerada," said Eldarion dutifully.

"Put your family first, lad," added Gimli gruffly. "Sometimes we all have to do what's right by our loved ones by choosing to do things that we might not otherwise do if we were lone warriors. There is a great honor in that, one that precious few people understand that until it's too late."

"All right, all right; I give up," Eldarion laughed. "I admit that this task is just as important as most of the others that I've learned before and will learn in the future."

He paused to put the last pin in place. When he was certain that the diaper was going to stay in place he scooped little Meren up in his arms. She looked at him curiously and he felt even his annoyance dissipating. He had to admit that if he hadn't just had to deal with her excrement he might have even said out loud that she was adorable. "Well – well, we're all done here."

Two sets of hands went immediately to the baby's behind as Thranduil and Gimli examined the boy's work. "Not bad," noted Gimli with just as much pride as he'd had after he'd seen Eldarion skillfully handle his wooden toy sword for the first time. "And with some practice – day after day after day of it – you just might prove to be a help to your fathers yet."

"Huh" grunted Eldarion, pondering how it was that Gimli and his ada had the exact same sense of humor when they weren't even the same race, let alone blood-related. The wheels in his head started churning as he eyed Meren's cherubic face. His eyes brightened as another unrelated idea struck him. "But wouldn't it be more of a help if no one had to do this at all? We could just let the twins go about without their diapers and have them do what comes naturally."

This time Thranduil laughed out-right. "Yes, and that will not make any kind of mess at all," he said, coughing as he tried to choke his amusement back.

Gimli was just aghast. "That's what you're finding wrong with his plan?" he demanded, exasperated. He turned back to Eldarion. "Boy, your sisters are babies, not puppies!"

Eldarion flushed but before he could offer up any defense or apologies Thranduil shook his head. "Oh, let the boy alone, Gimli," the elf told him. Eldarion knew as soon as he spoke that his grandfather was fighting back a particularly loud guffaw. "His plan might not be very well thought-out but that does not mean that he is the first person to think of it. I had the exact same notion when Legolas was only a little bit older than Meren and Gilraen are now; and I have no doubt that it has also crossed my Little Greenleaf's mind as well."

The young prince tried to imagine his dedicated ada becoming disgusted and frustrated enough to consider leaving his children diaper-less. "When?" he asked suspiciously.

"Why, when he was new at doing this, just like you are now," answered Thranduil casually. He grinned as a look of realization came to his grandson's face. "But he never let it happen, as I did not before him and you will not in the future. Do not let yourself be troubled, Eldarion; it is just that the three of us think very much alike."

"Because we're family?" wondered Eldarion wryly, picking up the theme of the conversation.

"Perhaps," replied Thranduil cheerfully. "But I believe that it has more to do with what is called 'the parent's curse'."

Eldarion cocked an eyebrow, silently asking him to elaborate. "Once upon a time I was an elfling," sighed the elven king. "And I must admit that I misbehaved frequently; and every time I did so, after my punishment, my father would kneel down, grab my shoulders firmly, and say in the calmest voice possible: 'one day I hope that you have a child that is exactly like you'."

"Hey," said a voice from behind them. Thranduil, Gimli, and Eldarion turned around to see that Aragorn and Legolas had finally returned from the Council meeting. It had been Legolas who'd spoke after hearing only the last part of what his father had just said. "I remember that! You used to tell me that all the time when I was an elfling."

"My father did too," piped in Aragorn. "To me, I mean."

"And I can see that it came true on both sides," smirked Gimli. He ruffled Eldarion's hair fondly. "Though I must say that Eldarion has never really had the problem with being on time that you two seem to struggle with more and more everyday. You said that you were going to be back a half-hour ago! What took you so long?"

The couple exchanged a look that could have been described as playfully calculating. "Oh, just attending to matters that had been delayed for far too long," replied Legolas breezily. Aragorn simply smiled dreamily as his husband casually tucked a strangely out-of-place strand of hair behind his ear. "But I'm sure that the three of you would find all of that very uninteresting."

"Do you need a comb, my Little Greenleaf?" asked Thranduil in a tight voice that was only just a little playful.

Gimli shook his head. "There's another reason why you needed to learn how to change a diaper, Eldarion," said Gimli pointedly, though there was no malice or any real reproach in his tone. "You're parents lack a certain amount of self-control. I wouldn't be surprised if your ada had many more children sooner than you think."

"What?" Eldarion goggled at his parents. "You're pregnant again already, Ada?"

"Of course he's not, my son," broke in Aragorn quickly in a falsely airy voice. "Gimli is simply going on about things that he shouldn't in the presence of young ears. But that is not important right now. What I'm more interested in is if I just heard correctly. Has my son really learned that most useful and valuable skill?"

Eldarion patted his sister's diapered behind. "See for yourself," he said with joking pride.

Legolas stepped closer to examine his son's handiwork. "Not bad," he commented, pleased. "Not bad at all. It looks like it's actually going to stay on – which is more than I can say for your papa's first time doing it."

"There was nothing wrong with the way that I pinned that diaper," argued Aragorn defensively, though he knew from years of having this same conversation that it was a losing point.

"Of course, my love," agreed Legolas as if he were encouraging a three-year-old. Grinning broadly he kissed Aragorn on the cheek. "I know a certain dwarf who would beg to differ. Don't worry," he added when the Man gave him a forlorn expression. "I will always love you, even when you can't admit you need help with pinning a diaper…and wind up inadvertently insulting a whole delegation of dwarves at a formal dinner because of it."

"You're so funny," said Aragorn sarcastically. "Well, maybe since our son is so talented perhaps he –"

A horrified piercing scream shattered the air around them, making all five of the non-infants in the room jump. "Ada! Papa!" shrieked Laurelin. It sounded like her voice was coming from her bedchamber; she sounded absolutely petrified. "Help me!"

"Elbereth," breathed Legolas in alarm, charging forward without another thought besides his eldest daughter's safety and what might be threatening it.

Aragorn followed closely behind his husband with Thranduil and Gimli coming up at his heels. Eldarion made a move to go with them but the Man turned around just long enough to see what he was planning. "Stay with the babies, Eldarion!" he called to him quickly. "I'm counting on you to take care of them until one of us gets back."

Reluctantly Eldarion stopped in his tracks. "There's just as much honor in staying behind and keeping the children safe as there is in charging into battle," he reminded himself in a mutter. He didn't sound convinced, though only his baby sisters were around to hear the worry and frustration in his voice.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Legolas ran faster than he ever had before down the seemingly endless corridor to Laurelin's closed bedchamber door. Once there he attacked it fiercely, expecting it to be barred against him, and ended up almost ripping it off the hinges. It flew open with such sudden force that it barely missed hitting Aragorn in the face; under ordinary circumstances Legolas would have apologized and the Man would have lovingly teased his husband before accepting. On that day, however, the elf didn't even notice how he almost gave his husband a concussion and Aragorn just grimly shook it off and kept going.

Laurelin heard their rather noisy entrance immediately. She tore across the room and threw herself into her ada's arms before he was more than five steps into the room. "Ada," she sobbed, clinging to Legolas' neck so hard that she was leaving marks.

"My daughter," gasped Legolas as he held onto her tightly; he could the violent tremors shaking her little body. He scanned the room frantically for something or someone who could have scared her so badly but he didn't see anyone else in the room. "What happened? Are you all right?"

The girl continued to cry and gave no other answer. "Did someone hurt you?" Legolas prompted her, imagining all the terrible things that could have happened, things that she might have a difficult time talking about later. His stomach started churning and the only reason why he didn't get sick right then and was because he was so angry that he was practically breathing fire. "Did someone threaten you? Please, Laurelin: tell me what happened and I'll hunt down whoever's responsible and make very certain that it will never happen again."

"Legolas." Aragorn appeared at his husband's elbow, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. The elf stopped and sucked in a few deep, cleansing breaths before smiling at his husband to assure him that he was now sufficiently calm. Too bad he didn't realize that it looked more like a grimace. "Let me take her for a moment. I need to give her a little check-up."

He slowly reached out to take their daughter; Legolas struggled internally but at last he forced himself to loosen his arms enough to let him scoop her away. Once he adjusted her so that they would both be comfortable, Aragorn discreetly checked for any signs of injuries. Except for the fact that she was badly shaken she appeared to be just fine. "What happened, Laurelin?" he asked in his firmest yet gentlest tone he could.

"Oh, P-p-p-papa," she stammered, still not in control of her voice.

"Shhhh," whispered Aragorn soothingly as he rocked her back and forth, taking the opportunity to scan the room for any sign of a struggle while he did so. There was none that he could see and he turned his head in to nuzzle the girl's hair as Legolas came closer and started rubbing circles on her back. "Papa and Ada are here now; we're going to make everything all right, but first we need you to tell us what happened to scare you so badly."

Laurelin took several deep gulping breaths. "I-I-I was p-p-playing in – in the kitchens," she started with some difficulty.

The royal couple threw looks back at Thranduil and Gimli, who appeared to be just as surprised by this news as Aragorn and Legolas were. The little girl had decided before her parents had gone off to the Council meeting that she would stay in her bedchamber to play, claiming that she didn't want to sit around an antechamber where she had to be very quiet lest she disturbed the babies. Seeing that the rooms were close enough together and that there were guards about everyone decided that this would be all right. Now all four adults had to swallow their urges to scold her for not keeping her promise to stay put.

"Did something happen to you there?" questioned Legolas anxiously.

Tears were brimming in Laurelin's bright blue eyes as she shook her head. "No," she said pitifully. "I just went down there to visit with the kitchen girls and get a cookie. Then I got all caught up in playing and stuff and ended up staying down there for a really long time. When I got back…"

Her voice trailed off and she began sobbing again. "Yes?" pressed Aragorn. Perhaps it had been better that she had left the bedchamber when she did. "What happened next?"

"When I got back those were there," she choked out, pointing to the bed. "It was all wrapped up in nice paper and the pretty flower had a beautiful ribbon tying a note to it…"

Four sets of eyes followed her finger to see a small box, more long than wide, sitting on her bedspread with paper shredded all around it. No one was shocked to see this – Laurelin was infamous for the way she opened presents – but they were taken aback at the sight of the flower. "That's an irila," said Aragorn in muted horror. That particular type of flower was indeed beautiful but its potion was deadly, as they had all witnessed firsthand when Lady Nienor poisoned Legolas with its potion when he was pregnant with Eldarion.

"My name was on the note," Laurelin explained tearfully. "And both were in here just waiting for me so I figured that I could open the gift right away."

She started crying once again. Legolas pressed a kiss into the back of her head. "It wasn't a nice thing," she wailed. "I had to slam the lid back down again because it was so awful."

"Oh, all this fuss over a lousy gift?" tsked Gimli lightly, hoping that she wouldn't be so frightened if they didn't make such a big deal about it. Besides, as he told himself over and over again silently as he confidently crossed the bedchamber and picked up the offending box, it was probably left by one of the hobbit wives or children, ones who didn't understand why the irila flower wouldn't be an appropriate gift for a member of that particular family. "Let's just take a good look at – oh, good Aüle!"

A look of absolute disgust came to his face and it took all of his willpower not to drop the box or fling it away. As it was he had to jerk it as far away from him as his grasp would allow. "Get her out of here to a safe place," he ordered in a horrified tone. "Then get as many guards as you can to come here at once!"

"Gimli?" asked Legolas. The fact that the normally unshakable dwarf was so unnerved made him tear his eyes away from the admittedly beautiful, if slightly wilted, flower. "What is it?"

Gimli couldn't bring himself to say it out loud, especially not with the frightened Laurelin still in the room. Instead he ever so slowly tilted the box up so that everyone could see inside. Laurelin didn't look and just buried her head into her papa's neck even more. Thranduil, Aragorn, and Legolas looked, though, and it took their minds several seconds to register what exactly was in the box. At that point they let out a collective gasp.

Nestled on top of a bed of fine silk was a carefully positioned human finger.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Fifteen minutes later Laurelin was in her fathers' antechamber with her sisters and brothers under their watchful eyes of Thranduil, Gimli, and two guards who were posted right outside the door. Not that the guards' presences were much comfort to Aragorn and Legolas at the moment, but still it felt like they needed to be there. The couple remained in the princess' bedchamber, where the rest of the guards that were assigned to the royal quarters of the citadel that day were gathered after answering the summons of the king and prince consort. "I want to know how this happened," ordered Aragorn, his voice shaking with rage and fear. "I want to know who did this to my little girl, why they did it, and how it was that they were able to do it! What do you all say to that?"

"We, ah," said the guard Mardil, ashen-faced more because of what the princes found than because he now had to answer to the enraged king. "We don't know, sire. No one – no one saw anything usual."

"Really now?" Aragorn's voice turned nasty and he glowered at them all. "So am I right in understanding that someone just waltzed into my daughter's bedchamber in the middle of the morning and Gondor's finest didn't notice? What if this person had planned on doing more than just leaving her a toxic flower and a dead person's finger for a present?"

"We're sorry, your majesty," apologized Mardil contritely. "It will not happen again."

"Aragorn," said Legolas faintly.

The Man was so intent on berating the damnably lax guards that he didn't register his husband's soft voice. "It had better not," he fumed at them. "Valar, why have guards at all if the princess isn't safe in her own bedchamber? It seems to me that she was better off with the kitchen girls!"

"Aragorn," Legolas tried again, this time louder.

Aragorn looked back to see Legolas sitting on Laurelin's bed, holding the box in his hand and examining its contents. "I don't think – this might not belong to a dead person," the elf told him in a far away voice. He very carefully nudged it with his pinkie and shuddered. "It's – it's fresh. Either it came from someone who died no later than yesterday –"

"Or it belongs to a living person, perhaps someone who was too ill to stop another person from removing it," Aragorn concluded for him.

Legolas nodded. "We should check the Houses of Healing to see if anyone there is missing a…"

The Man knelt before his husband and gently took the offending box but Legolas didn't let go. "Please put that down, my love," he coaxed tenderly. "You don't have to look at it anymore; we'll have someone take care of it."

The finger shifted when Aragorn tried to take the box, exposing something that caught Legolas' eye. "Wait," said the elf. Cautiously he reached in and pinched what looked like a strand of gold below the finger and pulled it out, revealing a gold pendent on a delicate chain. "What in the world do you think this is all about?"

Aragorn's skin went cold when he recognized the markings on the pendent. "It's – it's a piece of women's jewelry, usually given to the young unmarried daughters in a lord's house," he answered grimly. "On it is a family crest. I know this particular one: it belongs to the family of Lord Cirion."

To be continued…