It was that day that Aragorn realised how close he was to having his baby, he was five months and a week pregnant. Time flew, he thought to himself, as he trudged along at the back. Time almost never flew for this man; it was painfully drawn out, like an arrow from a wound. His life went from nearly impossible, nearly fatal mission to the next, with unbearable longings for Legolas on the way. But now… the difficult and dangerous aspects were thee, and normally he would enjoy it somewhat. But now he had his son inside of him, meaning that he didn't. But he was also with Legolas, and could never spend enough time with him.
Aragorn felt odd as he pondered his situation; normal couples would be contemplating nursery colours, midwives, names, but he and his elf were not a normal couple. He wished now, more than ever, than he and Legolas were safe in the halls of the White City, or behind the sturdy walls of Legolas' Mirkwood home. Even alone on the familiar paths of the Wild would be better than the oppressing silence of Moria. He could feel the Prince's hatred of the stale place, where only remnants of any splendour remained; the crumbs that were left after the banquet.
They had already escaped two dangers, the ice and the monster that they had narrowly escaped, how many more would they be forced to face?
Legolas lost track of time in those dank, dusty chambers, and was further frustrated when he was forced to sit and wait for their leader to decide on the correct course of action.
Aragorn and Boromir (who had gradually accepted the ranger to the point of courteous tolerance) sat smoking next to each other, as Legolas perched on a rock above them. The elf was lightly kicking his lover's shoulder with the tip of his thin shoe, whispering things in Aragorn's head along the lines of, 'You should not be smoking, the twins told you that you should not be smoking, if Elladan and Elrohir were present then…'
Aragorn took the approach of demonstrating what he clearly believed to be a dignified silence.
When, finally, this train of thought was interrupted by Gandalf's announcement of success, Aragorn stood with great effort, arching his back to accommodate for the weight of the curve of his stomach.
Legolas put a warm hand upon his lover's back, and Aragorn felt the wash of pure energy flow over him from the prince. He nodded his thanks surreptitiously, as they started to travel across the slate–ridden ground. He had not gone two steps when he stopped, hands flying to his stomach, and Legolas was by his side in an instant.
"What is it meleth?" he asked softly, his voice too low to avoid detection.
"He kicked. Our son, he just kicked," Aragorn stuttered, "I… just felt him."
Legolas' eyes widened, "Let me feel," he demanded at once, knocking away Aragorn's hands. Aragorn grinned as Legolas waited patiently, one hand at Aragorn's waist, the other on his belly, Legolas waited patiently. His hands quivered.
"He did it," gasped the elf, "Our child he just…"
"Hush" said Aragorn, laughter lines creasing his face, white teeth shimmering in the darkness as he smiled "We are being left behind." There was a new spring in each of their steps as they carried on.
000
Gimli ran into the chamber of Mazarbul, and the oppressive air became more burdensome inside the dimly lit tomb. Legolas' heart wrenched surprisingly for the dwarf. He had lost many friends in his long lifetime, those who should have travelled beyond the sea, but were claimed by the Halls of Mandos, and those who had left across the oceans. But in his heart, Legolas knew that they could not stay. Danger was never far behind in this place.
He could see Gandalf delaying and he knew that this did not bode well.
The words of the book echoed in his heart, the suffering that the Orcput their victims through. But he was shocked out of this, by the clatter of a dwarvish body, struck by an evil arrow, falling down the well.
Suddenly, dangers were upon the fellowship once again.
Legolas felt slightly hopeless, his skill was not in the area of bodily strength, as he watched his lover and the Gondorian slam the door of the chamber closed. Initiative caught up with the elf, as he launched axes towards the men blocking up the wood. They all backed away from the shuddering door, knowing full well that the first wave was always the most powerful. Legolas sighed, away was where his pregnant lover needed to be, not so close to war. Only Gimli edged forwards, revenge in his maddened eyes.
The elf and Aragorn drew their bows, arrow in place and strings pulled taught. Legolas bit his lip to stop himself from lecturing Aragorn, as he had done only years ago, when they were student and teacher.
The orcs were breaking through, and Legolas let fly his first arrow, and the student copied the teacher. He let loose his second arrow, as the door burst open and the flood of evil swept in. Aragorn dropped his bow to claim his sword and Legolas felt like kicking him. How many times had he told the human, never to drop his weapon? The next few minutes passed in a whirl of fighting, slashing over and under, running on pure adrenaline. Aragorn did not know whether Legolas had foreseen this or whether it was common sense, Legolas' gift of foresight was only small, but he could not have fought as he did without the energy that the elf had transferred to him earlier on.
Then Aragorn was flying overhead, lost in the air and then hidden in the rubble because of the troll that Legolas had failed to bring down. He had tried and he had failed his lover, everyone else had killed their foes but he, an immortal, could not kill his.
"Aragorn," the cry was lost in the air, as Legolas fought for breath. He knew that his lover would not want him to stop the fight just for his sake… but... So Legolas fought on, the nagging worry in his mind that he could not feel Aragorn at all. Hot fury was boiling inside the elf as he strove with each orc, knocking them down in the fight to reach his unconscious lover. It seemed like a lifetime to be parted, though in reality it was not much more than five minutes. A part of his mind registered how much time was making the couple fools, moments going so fast and then so slow.
Why had they come on this mission at all? Presuming the dangers had been seen by Elrond's gift, but he had obviously not divulged this foresight, if indeed he had known. Surely the Elven Lord, had he been aware of the dangers to both father and son, he would not have sent Aragorn on this quest. Surely he would not, knowingly, sacrifice his foster son.
Unless he was enraged at Aragorn for refusing to marry Arwen, and becoming pregnant. Arwen had not wanted him to know. Revelation hit as fast as the arrow that embedded itself in the orc's skull.
Legolas turned and found himself face to face with the monstrosity that had rendered Aragorn unconscious, so smoothly, and without interfering thought, Legolas took aim and let loose his arrow. The dart hit the mark and the troll keeled over. It was quiet now, all enemies were dead. Legolas was able to run to Aragorn's side. But Aragorn was already awake and dragging himself to Frodo's side.
Sweat-stained, wearied, wincing in pain, beautiful; Aragorn was alive. Nothing else mattered. And for a moment, a miniscule moment, Legolas was able to hold the Ranger to him as he stumbled to his feet, and embraced the scent of home, the bittersweet odour of his love.
000
But then all of a sudden they were running once more, fleeing the mines as orcs poured from every crevasse, waiting to feed on the weary travellers. Then the goblins were gone and a new fear replaced them, one much worse and much more dangerous. They sprinted away from the fires of the Balrog.
What was it that the twins said, Legolas thought to himself, rest and relaxation, time alone, no emotional onslaught?
This journey was not doing the baby any good.
All of a sudden, Legolas was furious; Gandalf had almost launched Aragorn into the pit, pushing him away in anger. The wizard should have known better. He shook the feeling off, there was no time. He kept thinking too much. He jumped over the gaping hole in the bridge, Gandalf joined him, then Merry, Pippin and Boromir, then Sam. He grudgingly saved the life of the dwarf, heaving him back by his barbaric beard, and only Aragorn and Frodo were left on the crumbling side, the three most important lives in the Fellowship.
For one dreadful moment, as the bridge disintegrated under Aragorn's feet, he was hanging on by his fingertips, scrabbling on the weakened rocks. Legolas' breath caught in his throat as Aragorn managed to swing his sprawling, pregnant body over the shelf and finally got up.
Legolas tore his eyes away from his lover and shot up to the ceiling, hoping to defend the company against the innumerable enemies. It was a hopeless affair, but every arrow that was not shot could have been the one to fell Aragorn and his child. Aragorn lurched onto the platform and, hastily, Legolas grabbed him around the shoulders, pulling him onto the sturdier ground. Fleeing, dashing away again, a race to save their lives and their futures.
Then Gandalf stopped, and in a rush of flame, he fell into the pit of Khazud-dûm.
Legolas could see the distress in Aragorn's face, but dragged him around the corner and out into the open air. He walked away from his lover, knowing that Aragorn needed a moment to compose himself and accept the loss of his mentor and a great friend. The elf felt slightly naked, unable to pick up on the feelings of Aragorn, though he did recall that the spell had failed before Gandalf had fallen. He was amazed that the glamour over Aragorn's stomach still remained; the spell should have stopped working with the death of the wizard.
Blindly following orders, hiding his grief for the fallen, Legolas set the younger hobbits on their feet. He spared them a smile, before running ahead, to hide the tears on his face. He had known Gandalf for all of the three millennia that he had lived through.
000
When the company halted for a rest, many hours later, Legolas saw that the hobbits had enough food to sustain them for another long jog, before he walked leisurely over to Aragorn, who had retreated immediately. The human was leaning with his eyes crumpled up as if he were shielding them from the sun.
Legolas frowned; the sun was on the other side of the boulder, nowhere near Aragorn. He sat down next to his lover. "Meleth, are you ok?" he asked, gently.
The elven Prince reached up to brush away a strand of hair that had fallen into Aragorn's frowning eyes, and had stuck with the sweat that coated the Ranger's face. The moment he touched it, he whipped his hand away. "Elbereth," he exclaimed, "I am no healer, but that temperature is not healthy melda nin. You are burning up"
Aragorn merely groaned in response, resting his boiling face against Legolas' shoulder.
Legolas was afraid, more fearful than he had been at any that that long day. He took Aragorn's hand, which was surprisingly cold and clammy, and kissed it. "You are not well, my love, but do not worry," he said bracingly, "I will make sure you are safe and well."
"The baby," Aragorn moaned, "It hurts: more than anything before."
A tear leaked from behind the closed eyes, onto Legolas' shoulder. It too was hot.
Gently, take the utmost care, Legolas guided Aragorn to his feet. When Aragorn opened his eyes, Legolas found them to be blurred with unshed tears, but dark with pain. "Be strong meleth, an hour that's all we need. An hour to be strong and we will be safe," Legolas almost choked on the sob that was rising in his throat. "You can not give in now, I will not let you."
"I am scared," were his only words.
The elf clenched Aragorn's hand tight, "I am here." He felt cooling energy flow from his own into the human's fevered body. "You can go on meleth?"
A nod.
Leaving his lover, Legolas took Gimli aside and turned to him.
"What is it elf?" Gimli asked brusquely.
"Aragorn is ill. Help him get to Lorien and I will pay you in whatever way I can," Legolas said.
Gimli stared for a moment, then inclined his head, "Very well lad, I'll see to it that he does not fall."
"Thank you," said Legolas, and the dwarf was shocked to see real tears in the eyes of the Prince. He looked vulnerable, something Gimli had never expected.
So the icy immortal did have a heart, the dwarf thought to himself, who knew?
000
It was a frantic, heart rendering race to Lothlorien, Legolas leading the company onwards as Aragorn stumbled blindly behind, guided only by Gimli.
The Ranger could run no more when they reached the borders, and the whole company was walking at a slower pace, in awe of the Golden Wood. This was a relief to Legolas, who chose to walk slowly behind the others, an arm around his love's waist and a hand in his.
The human was in constant pain, clutching at his stomach, and it was worsening with every step the couple took.
"Not much longer now," Legolas whispered as they made their way forwards, "Not much longer." Please Elbereth, he prayed, let me speak the truth
000
They spoke with Haldir and were slowly lead up to Caras Galadhon, none of which Legolas took in, in full. He was too preoccupied with the suffering man. All that he could recall later on was the words, "You do speak the truth young Prince, your suffering had been brought to my attention."
These words echoed around his head, swimming in and out of his thoughts. As he followed a pair of white clad elves into another hall and there, with a loud wail, he felt Aragorn slip through his arm. He was on his knees on the marble floor, like a sick dog, twisting and writhing.
"Aragorn," Legolas cried in grief, before common sense caught him up. He swept Aragorn up into his arms, with some difficulty at the larger man's size. Desperation gave him strength, as he ran with the two elves he was following, who had suddenly left their calm dignity behind. They were running, urgent at this new event.
Aragorn, who had been clutching Legolas' tunic for dear life, turned and retched onto the floor. He gritted his teeth and held in the cries of pain.
"Come on, my love," Legolas soothed, though his voice was thick with tears, "We made it this far together, I am not going to let you go now. I swear it. You will be fine."
Aragorn whimpered pitifully, as Legolas skidded to a halt in a white, sterile room. He froze, uncertain of what to do.
"My Lord," one of the healers said urgently, "I need you to put him on the bed."
"Do not hurt him, the baby, do not hurt them," Legolas spluttered incoherently.
"We will not, you can be assured," the other elf replied.
Finally, Legolas placed his lover on the bed and drew the coverlets part way up. Aragorn was shivering violently, and Legolas was shocked to see how pale the normally dark Ranger was. The only parts of his face that did not match his sheets were the deep shadows under his eyes and two scarlet fever spots high on his face. "Aragorn," he whispered, unable to find any words and unable to know if the man was listening to them. The human's face was screwed up and every so often he would emit a pained animal-like sound.
One of the Healers came up behind Legolas and touched him on the shoulder. "Do not be afraid, we will take good care of your friend, but we can do nothing with you in here, it is not permitted."
"What?" asked Legolas, uncomprehending. He was not going to leave him, what if…
"You must leave you friend for now, until there is any… change."
Sighing, Legolas knew that he would only delay help for his lover. "You will call me if he does… change?"
"As you wish my lord."
Legolas stood up shakily from the bed and left the way he had come in, wandering around until he found a silent garden. Then the tears came, the guilt, the anger and the loss. All these emotions assailed him at once, and all Legolas could think of was 'Why am I so weak? How could I promise Aragorn that I would be the strong one? He is the stronger one; I am just a weak elf, who never left the safety of Mirkwood castle until I was several centuries old.
And how could I have left Aragorn unconscious for so long? If I had been quicker, if I'd been more focused, then maybe this would not have happened. What about the baby? Will he be alright? If Aragorn miscarries this child, he will be distraught. I should have been more responsible, cared for him properly, refused to let him go on this mission, or at least delayed it for Aragorn's sake. That is what I should have done and then Aragorn would not be ill, dying and we wouldn't lose our chance at having a child. Having an heir for Gondor and Mirkwood.
Gimli came up behind the elf as he sunk deeper into depression.
"This isn't your fault lad so don't go blaming yourself. If you are going to blame anyone, blame me for not taking the troll down quick enough."
Legolas shook his head. "I should not have let Aragorn come here in his condition."
"What condition?"
"He is... he is… pregnant," Legolas said, "Pregnant with my child, and I permitted him to come."
"Well you learn something new every day."
"Do not try and make this a joke. Aragorn is dying and my son is dying, and I can do nothing. And when I looked at him… I knew that he was losing his strength… he had a fatally high fever. I can do nothing to help them at all."