A/N: Thanks for sticking with this story! I really hope you like the bits of fluff I put in this chapter, and I hope you'll forgive the continuation of the elf whump. The tags still apply.
Five minutes after their child was born Aragorn was sitting with his back to the oak tree, one arm wrapped around the proud, exhausted elf settled up against him. Legolas held the naked infant to his bare chest, the blanket pulled up over both of them.
Aragorn had tied off and cut the pale, empty cord soon after handing the baby to Legolas, but he had not yet taken the time to clean the birth fluids and vernix from her skin. It had felt more important that Legolas hold her immediately, especially after what the two of them had been through. The babe had only cried against Legolas's chest a few minutes before drifting off to sleep, her small frame gently rising and falling with each miraculous breath she took.
Gimli remained close by, quiet and still as he watched the new parents experience their daughter's first precious minutes of life. It was Legolas who finally broke the near-reverent silence.
"I know it sounds foolish," he said, "but I was worried that when she was born I would need to divide my affections between the two of you. I should have known my love would simply increase twofold." He bent and pressed another kiss to her damp forehead before leaning his head back against Aragorn's chest.
Aragorn smiled and reached for the child, gently rubbing her back through the blanket.
"How are you feeling? Truly?" he quietly asked.
Legolas looked up at him, his expression grave.
"Are you sure you want the truth of it?"
"I do," Aragorn said, though fresh worry was already building in his chest.
But Legolas surprised him with a sudden bright, weary smile.
"Overjoyed," he said. "But sore—and worried. And so very, very tired. What about you?"
"Much the same," Aragorn said. "Excepting your physical hurts, of course." He shifted his hand to the elf's softened middle, massaging the overtaxed muscles.
Legolas offered a grateful smile before his face went dark again. "We never discussed what we were going to do if she was born before we reached the realm of the Lady."
Aragorn nodded, understanding his lover's concern immediately. Legolas's pale, smooth chest had remained resolutely flat and unchanged throughout the entire time he had carried their child. His body alone was no longer enough to sustain her.
The rations they had brought on their journey were modestly appropriate for the grown members of the company, but they had nothing among them that was safe to feed a newborn elfling, save perhaps one ingredient that Sam had happened to bring along with his salts and spices.
"We can feed her sugar dissolved in water, if it comes to it," Aragorn said. "She will not thrive on it, but neither will she starve."
Legolas grimaced at the thought, but nodded.
"If only she had stayed within a little while longer," he murmured. "She is only just born, and I already feel that I have failed her."
"No, Legolas," Aragorn said, his heart hurting at the guilt in the elf's tone. "You have already delivered her safely through great perils. Let me worry about her physical needs for now; you have done more than your fair share."
They turned their heads at a sudden cough coming from the campfire. There were four small, concerned faces there, lingering out of the way. They were all straining to see what was happening, but seemed unwilling to move closer lest they overstep some invisible boundary between them and the new family.
Aragorn smiled.
"I think there are four hobbits who are anxiously awaiting some good news," he said.
"And they shall have it," Legolas said. He shifted a bit, wincing. "Though I'd rather they stay back for now. I'm feeling a bit exposed still, and I think the afterbirth may be coming any moment," he said.
"Leave it to me," Gimli said. He turned and called out to them.
"The babe is here, if you couldn't already tell. Our Legolas has delivered a bonnie wee lassie!"
He paused and smiled at the soft cheers that rose from around the campfire.
"The bairn is doing well, but Legolas had a very difficult time," he continued. "He's going to need a few moments to get cleaned up and acquainted with his little one. Keep your distance for a little while longer. Aragorn will tell you when you may approach."
He looked back at Aragorn, who gave him a grateful nod.
"What color?" one of the hobbits called.
"That'll be Merry," Gimli muttered, shaking his head in disapproval. But Aragorn smiled.
"Red," Aragorn called back, and Gimli laughed at the confused chatter that followed. Aragorn reached out and stroked the dark, softly curling hair of his daughter's head.
"What was that about?" Legolas asked.
"There was a small wager regarding your little bairn's hair color," Gimli explained.
"And no one thought to include me?" Legolas asked in mock-severity. "I could have told you it would be dark."
He winced again, curling slightly forward this time.
"Do you need to push?" Aragorn asked.
Legolas nodded.
"Take her," he said, lifting the child off his chest. Then, when Aragorn did not move fast enough, "Take her, take her!"
Aragorn pulled his arm free from behind Legolas and quickly took the child into his arms. Legolas pushed himself into a more upright position, pulling the blanket up and bending his knees again. Gimli scooted closer and placed a gentle hand on his back, rubbing softly. Legolas took a breath and bore down with a quiet grunt of effort.
Aragorn saw an enormous clot of blood gush forth from between trembling thighs, and he was dismayed to see that the end of the cord—along with the afterbirth—remained inside. He looked up and saw Gimli staring wanly at the great quantity of blood that coated the cloak that Legolas rested upon. They met eyes and a silent concern passed between them: No, Legolas should not have bled that much. No, he should not still be bleeding this much.
Legolas gave a soft sigh and looked at Aragorn, a weak grin on his thin, paling lips.
"I hope you didn't intend to ask for your cloak back," he said, lightly.
"I'll…go find a fresh blanket. And more water," Gimli said, standing stiffly. He gave a small nod toward Aragorn and turned to leave them.
"Well?" Legolas asked, his exposed legs bent and parted once more. His daughter was back in his arms, her small body now wrapped in a hobbit kitchen towel with the image of a cow jumping over the moon embroidered on it. "How bad is it?"
Aragorn looked up from between the elf's legs, wincing in sympathy.
"Not as bad as it probably feels. The tear will need to be cleaned and stitched, but it is the afterbirth I am more concerned about," he said, gesturing to the cord still lying between Legolas's legs, no longer pulsing. "If it doesn't come soon, I may need to assist with your pushing."
He paused when he saw a flicker of anxiety cross the elf's face. He was well aware that Legolas had already tried several more times to pass the afterbirth while Aragorn had been busy cleaning and drying their child.
"But how is our little one? Still breathing well?" Aragorn asked, quickly changing the subject.
"She's breathing fine, just as she was a moment ago, and a moment before that. She's just exhausted, Estel. Her journey was difficult. We should be grateful her weariness outweighs her hunger for the moment."
Legolas's face was remorseful again as he looked down at his sleeping daughter, and Aragorn was swift to reach out and gently grasp his arm.
"She'll be all right, meleth. Your kin will be able to help us. I am only surprised they have not discovered us already."
Legolas nodded, though he did not seem convinced. Aragorn did not blame him; he was already making plans to travel ahead on his own in search of the elves once he was certain Legolas was stable and out of danger.
"Have you thought of what we shall call her?" Aragorn asked, eager to speak of happier things. "Surely you have some names already in mind."
"Perhaps. But she is your daughter as much as she is mine. Is there a family name you wish to pass along?"
Aragorn shook his head emphatically.
"Certainly not. There is a reason I don't favor my true name. I prefer the way of your people; names that speak of the strength and beauty of nature, not the birthrights and obligations of men."
"Then she will have a woodelf name. It would certainly please my ada." Legolas paused, his eyes suddenly widening. "He doesn't even know yet! He sent me to Imladris to deliver a simple message. How will he react when I return with his first grandchild?"
"I'd wager he's going to spoil her beyond repair," Aragorn said. Legolas gave a soft laugh.
"And if he doesn't, Elrond certainly will," he conceded.
"Her aunt and her uncles as well," Aragorn added.
"I did not even think of them," Legolas said, looking overwhelmed again. "What will the twins do when they get a hold of her?"
"Probably teach her to swim, ride, track, hunt—all before she is old enough, of course."
"Estel!"
"I am only teasing," Aragorn said, laughing. "We will, of course, monitor any and all interactions between the twins and their soon-to-be-favorite niece."
"You say that like I mean to smother her," Legolas grumbled. "I simply don't want her acquiring too many unnecessary scars before she is even twenty—"
"Like I did?" Aragorn said, still smiling.
"As a matter of fact, yes. Who takes a twelve-year-old human child on an orc hunt?"
"Ah, yes, one of my fondest memories from growing up." Aragorn flinched at the elf's paralyzing glare. "No, you're right," he amended. "But you needn't worry; my brothers learned their lesson with me, Elrond made certain of that. I am sure they will be more gentle with our little girl."
"Here we are," Gimli announced, stepping back over the root to rejoin them. He held a fresh pot of water in his hands and another clean blanket over his shoulder. "We'll get you cleaned up and settled back down in no time." He set the items down beside Aragorn.
"Thank you, Gimli," Legolas said, shifting uncomfortably again. "Would you mind holding her, just for a little while? I have some more pushing to do, and it's proving difficult to change positions with her in my arms."
"Mind? Of course I wouldn't mind; I'd be honored to hold her," Gimli said. He quickly knelt beside Legolas, who placed the still-sleeping child into his waiting arms.
"Oh, but she is a beauty, my friend," Gimli said, holding her as carefully as if she were made of glass. "The prettiest little bairn I've ever seen."
Legolas smiled proudly.
Legolas spent the next half hour in a deep squat as he struggled vainly to pass the afterbirth, his hands gripping tightly to Aragorn's shoulders. Eventually, his legs were simply too tired to hold him up anymore, and he reluctantly allowed Aragorn to help him back into a sitting position against the tree.
"It's all right. Just try again, Legolas," Aragorn said for what must have been the tenth time. It was becoming more difficult to hide his panic, and it almost felt like the terror of his daughter's birth was happening all over again. "Push when the pain returns."
"That's the problem; my labor pains have all but stopped now," Legolas said, his own fear creeping into his voice. He bent forward and gave another weak push before quickly giving up, shaking his head. "It's no use. I'm going to need your help."
Aragorn nodded, relieved that Legolas was the one to make the decision first. He took a firm hold of the cord with his left hand and placed his right hand on the elf's softened belly.
"Tell me when," he murmured.
Legolas took two quick, gasping breaths before gritting out the word "Now!" as he began to bear down with no contraction to assist him. Aragorn pressed down firmly on Legolas's midsection and tugged gently on the cord. It began to move down.
"Keep going, it's working," Aragorn said. Legolas gave a soft, pained cry, but he kept pushing until Aragorn was able to draw the rest of the cord and the fleshy organ attached to it out from between his legs. Another gout of blood followed.
"Rest, Legolas, it's out, it's out," Aragorn gently soothed when the elf's soft whimpers did not immediately cease. "Your labor is finished now."
He looked over at Gimli who looked sick with worry at the sight of all that blood.
"Why don't you go ahead and show her to the little ones," Aragorn suggested. "I think Legolas might prefer a bit of privacy while I get him cleaned and stitched. What do you think, Legolas?"
The elf gave a small, weary nod.
"Just be sure that they stay quiet," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "She needs to rest."
"Try to get some rest yourself, my friend," Gimli said. He stood and left to go join the hobbits, who immediately crowded around him when they saw what he carried, their voices all overlapping in excited whispers.
"Dark! I knew it would be dark! Pay up, Pip, Sam!" Legolas heard Merry exclaim before Gimli shushed him.
"You see that, Mr. Frodo?" Sam whispered. "Their ears are pointed, even as newborns. And she's only half-elven."
"I think she might be a bit more than half-elven, though," Frodo whispered back. "Bilbo told me Aragorn has some elf-blood in his lineage."
"What are they saying?" Aragorn asked, drawing the elf's attention back.
"It seems they all know she is your daughter," Legolas replied.
"Indeed, it seems they do. So it probably won't matter much if I do this." Aragorn leaned over, placing one hand on the tree and gently pressing his lips to the elf's. It was the first kiss they had shared the entire journey.
Aragorn did not linger there, though every part of him longed to. Legolas was exhausted and hurting, and he wouldn't be able to truly rest until he was cleaned and stitched. Aragorn drew away from his lover with a soft smile. Legolas smiled back, and Aragorn couldn't help but notice how grey his lips had become.
Aragorn took another cloth and gently cleaned Legolas's thighs and injured nether regions, then got to work stitching the still-bleeding tear. Legolas was quiet as he worked, hardly seeming to notice what was happening between his legs.
When his task was finished, Aragorn rinsed the blood from his hands and stood.
"All right, are you able to get up for just a moment?" he asked. "Legolas?"
Legolas did not respond; his eyes had fallen shut and his breathing was labored and out of rhythm.
"Legolas," Aragorn called, raising his voice very slightly. The elf's body jerked at the sound, and he blinked several times, his focus settling on Aragorn's face as he gave a soft, exhausted sigh.
"How long was I away?"
"Five minutes, perhaps. Are you all right?"
"Of course, why wouldn't I be? You've seen me sleep before," Legolas snapped, his tone irritated.
Never like that, Aragorn thought, though he did not voice it. He had no interest in risking an argument with his severely weakened lover.
"I was just asking if you could stand for a moment," he said. "We need to get you off this soiled cloak and onto that clean blanket."
Legolas nodded, taking Aragorn's outstretched hands. He winced as the act of pulling himself up required muscles that were exhausted from the hours he had spent pushing his child into the world. More blood spilled from between his legs at the change of position. Aragorn's jaw clenched, and he quickly guided Legolas's hands to the side of the tree.
"Just hold on to our faithful friend here," he said. Legolas dug his fingers deep into the thick moss, his knuckles whitening. His knees were quaking, and it looked like he was struggling to hold himself up.
Aragorn rushed to drag the ruined cloak away from the base of the tree and spread out the fresh blanket in its place.
"There you are," Aragorn said, quickly offering his hands again "You can lie back down now." Legolas took the hands and gingerly placed his bare feet on the blanket, allowing Aragorn to slowly lower him back down to the soft ground. Aragorn quietly wetted another small towel and cleaned the fresh blood from the elf's inner thighs. A new stain was already beginning to grow on the blanket beneath them.
"Tell me truthfully, do I look as bad as I feel?" Legolas asked as Aragorn began to pull the other blanket up over him. Aragorn paused, sparing a moment to take in his lover's every feature, from the loose strands of messy hair plastered to his face to the dark circles under his eyes, his pallid lips, trembling limbs, and still-swollen middle. Aragorn forced a weak smile, leaning in to kiss him again.
"You look wonderful," he whispered.
"You're a terrible liar," Legolas said. "And I love you for it. I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier."
"You just gave birth to my child. I should be glad to have kept my head after what I've put you through."
Legolas's smile faded.
"Listen, Estel. The truth is, I'm not sure I'm all right. I feel…drained. Beyond mere exhaustion."
Aragorn swallowed and gave a small nod, his eyes suddenly burning.
"You've lost a lot of blood." You're still losing blood, and I don't know how to stop it.
"I know," Legolas whispered.
"Just hold on a little longer, meleth. Your kin will have healers with medicines to revive you. I'm sure any moment now—"
"You give her back!"
It was Sam's voice, with a ferocity in it that Aragorn had not heard from him or any hobbit before. Legolas grabbed Aragorn's arm, terror in his eyes.
"Estel, the baby!" he cried in alarm.
"Stay here," Aragorn said, his own heart pounding. "I'll go see what is the matter."
A/N: Next chapter: A misunderstanding! Thank you so much for your comments and predictions, they mean so much to me!