Current mood:

cheerful

My Newborn Family
It started out so nicely. Vorladien was sparring with me, in the glade where we had trained for almost one thousand years. I humored her and allowed her to win once and a while. Despite her disability of an oversized belly, which made her sluggish and easily tired, she threw a few good punches and kept my shoulders quite sore. After our argument a couple weeks ago, I had been trying to keep her happy and occupied. If she wasn’t going to fight in a war, she could at least fight with me.

Aragorn and Arwen watched us from a safe distance, laughing as Aragorn spoke of the Shieldmaiden once again. Vorladien was taunting me, as if she didn’t know that she was winning only because I was letting her. In an attempt to subdue me, she pulled me close, her leg wrapping behind mine, causing me to hit the grassy arena with a sharp thud. She slowly bent over (the best she could, anyway) and ruffled my hair. Her hand suddenly grabbed a large section of my hair, forcing me to my feet as she kissed my face and bit my neck. Gently, I nudged her hand out of the way, hoping that would be enough to make her stop. Instead, she hobbled back, fists up, the gauntlets Luthien gave her raised to meet my eye, defensively.

“Vorladien, please,” I warned as she circled me, “Be careful.”

“Oh, hush, ONORO!” she squealed mischievously.

Behind me, I heard Aragorn laughing. I couldn’t help but laugh myself at my wife’s clever way of mocking me. If she was not so pregnant, I would have given her her comeuppance.

Vorladien began to hold her belly then, one fist still raised, chest moving more prominently as she breathed harder. Smiling at how quickly she was slowing down, I grabbed her wrist and gently yanked her against a nearby tree, pinning her against its massive trunk, her wrist held above her head.

She blinked in mock fright, her head against the tree, stray hairs falling in her eyes. “Oh, you brutish elf!” she exclaimed overdramatically. “What are you going to do to me? Beat me? Kill me? Ravish me?”

Laughter erupted from all four of us, my forehead touching hers as I looked into her eyes, grinning.

“Oh, aunt,” Arwen finally spoke, “you would enjoy that, would you not?”

Vorladien nodded happily in response and focused her attention on me again. “What say you, my lord?” she whispered, breath caressing my face.

I opened my mouth to speak but before any words could escape, I felt Vorladien forcefully shove me off of her. She leaned back against the tree, face clenched in pain. She slid to the ground, groaning and sobbing, her arms hugging her body, legs spread uncomfortably.

I fell to my knees taking Vorladien’s hands in my own. "Now, Love?" I asked, rubbing her hand in order to comfort her. Her head was damp with perspiration sweat dripping to her strawberry golden hair. She nodded quickly as she struggled to gain her composure.

Gently yet quickly, I pulled her to her feet, taking her up into my arms to carry her away. Under my hand, I felt a distinct dampness in her gown from where her water broke and I looked to Aragorn and Arwen, who had already jumped to their feet to aid me. Nodding to them, I began to run, the crying from my wife becoming louder every second. Through the woods, I moved, back to our bedroom, our two companions following close behind.

I lay Vorladien down and undressed her. Her groans were becoming harsher, more strained, as the contractions got closer together. Arwen moved closed and sat on the edge of the bed. I looked to her and pointed towards the door. "Find Galadriel. We need her here now." I said quickly. Immediately, she rose and scurried out the door leaving Aragorn and I to calm my wife.

The Dunedan left to fix Vorladien something to ease the pain. When he returned he had a mug of dark, emerald liquid. He handed the concoction to me and I put it to melethril’s lips. She winced in swallowing, face turning in disgust once she was done.

"Never again am I letting you do this to me, Legolas! Two! This is IT!" she hissed, hand gripping at my arm.

I chuckled and kissed her head, but said nothing. She deserved her caustic remarks at this moment if it made her feel better. Besides, I knew it was the drink talking.

Arwen soon returned, followed by the Lady of the Wood, who had a surprisingly calm look on her face. She looked to me, then to Arwen, then Aragorn.

"Leave us. She needs her space..." she said, her deep, noble voice getting us all to our feet. As I began to walk away, she raised her hand and gestured for me to sit back next to her daughter. "Not you, Legolas. You said that you wished to stay and stay you will."

Arwen pulled Aragorn out of the room, her arm grabbing at the crook of his arm, as she closed the door behind them.

Galadriel ignored them and looked at Vorladien. "How do you feel, daughter?"

"Like a Balrog is clawing at my stomach! GET THEM OUT!!"

Gently, Galadriel knelt in front of her daughter, hands spreading Vorladien’s legs to help her. Vorladien clutched my hand tightly as I stroked her hair, speaking gently to her, hoping that something, anything could make the birth less painful. Her entire body tensed as she pushed, hand squeezing my own to the point of numbness. My mind was spinning as I heard my wife call my name, screaming so loud that any louder and the entire Golden Wood would have heard her.

"MELAMIN!" she shrieked, eyes meeting my own.

"I’m here, melethril. Just keep pushing, close your eyes, and think about who they will look like…"

~*~

I waited for her to wake up after the ordeal. As she slept, I held her lovingly in my arms, laying beside her, our noses close to touching on the pillow. Outside, the second night’s sun was falling, casting autumn shadows on the wall. I leaned over and kissed her nose to get her attention.

"You have been asleep for about a day now." I said softly, kissing her nose again. She said nothing and snuggled close to me, her body still weak. "Altimë and Estel came out fighting. It is no wonder you are so tired."

"Altimë? Estel?"

"Our daughter and son..."

"Where are they? I want to see them..."

I got up slowly letting her go as I went to the corner of the room. There were two cradles, matching, the fiery light from the setting sun casting shadows over them as if to keep from disturbing the two sleeping children. I slowly picked Altimë up and carried her to her mother. Vorladien rose slowly, lethargically and took our daughter in her arms. I soon returned to the cradles and picked up our son, who, already wide-awake, looked up at me attentively, bright blue eyes alert yet placid. He cooked as I lifted him from his bed, gravitating back towards Vorladien, who had begun singing to Altimë.

"She looks like you..." I remarked as she sang. She nodded and looked to Estel, her soft voice trailing off as she stopped singing.

"He looks like you...and yet..." she touched Altimë’s face. "The look like each other..."

Tenderly, I reached down and touched Estel’s cheek. Instinctively, he reached a hand up and touched my hand, small fingers curling the best they could around my palm.

Looking around me, I watched Vorladien with my daughter, me with my son, and somehow I felt dizzy, dreamy.

I had a family now, a home…

And I would not let my father or this ward that he was starting take that away from me.