Category: AU, Established Relationship, Future Fic

Summary: Aragorn is too good a king, they won't let him retire, so Legolas decides to give him a heir with a little magical assist from Gandalf.

Warning: Yep, this is an mpeg. If I did it right, it is also a bittersweet tale. Although I do not consider the ending a sad one.

Note: This isn't a sequel to any specific story, but rather the end I see most of the things I write in this fandom coming to. Details of the journey may vary and all of that, but they intersect here. Thus few references are made to a past beyond the main themes of the two movies to-date and an item or two I think this future gives in common to all pasts.

I have heard differing opinions of when LotR occurs. I always thought it in some long, forgotten past. A friend sets it in a post-apocalypse age. Still others, I'm certain, don't see it as of our world at all. For that reason and others, I've chosen to avoid describing the world around them.

Aragorn leaned against the railing outside his bedroom and stared at the city below. For as far as his eye could see and well beyond stretched the kingdom of Gondor. His kingdom. The one he'd never wanted, but had guided for a thousand years. A heavy burden for one who not have chosen to rule a single day.

Yet ruled it he had. And it had flourished and grown until all the lands of Men were considered his domain. Not his idea. One by one other kingdoms left without rulers or worse had petitioned to join their fates with Gondor's. He sighed and supposed he should be glad the other folk of Middle Earth did not desire a Human to guide them.

Arms encircled his waist and the warmth of a slender body pressed against his back announcing the arrival of Gondor's Prince Consort. "Brooding again, I see."

The tone was light, undoubtedly meant to chide him out of his mood, but he could hear the quiet concern behind the words. He tried to brighten for his Elf, but it was difficult. "Do you know how I spent this day?"

"No. Was it awful?"

"Terrible. The Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain and Moria are squabbling. Again." Sometimes he cursed every quest that had allowed any of them to regain their lands. "Naturally, they needed the great King of Gondor to mediate their dispute." Every decade the same thing. Almost like clockwork.

Legolas sighed and held him tighter. "I should have been with you."

"One of us bored to tears is bad enough. And it has been a long time since Gandalf graced us with his presence." He sounded so bitter to his own ears, it did not surprise him to feel Legolas flinch. The words that followed did.

"I am sorry you have to suffer this. That I brought this upon you." He began to withdrawal, but Aragorn turned quickly and caught him in his arms.

"You, my love, have brought me nothing but joy."

Legolas shook his head. "I gave you an immortality you never sought and never ending days of a life you did not want."

"I would suffer them forever in an exchange for a single moment with you." It was nothing but the truth. He lived for moments like this and would not have his Elf doubt it for an instant.

Legolas smiled, but Aragorn could see the worry in his eyes. It had been there for the last few years, and he had no one but himself to blame for it.

"I'm sorry, I should have learned to deal with days like this with more grace by now," he said with a rueful smile.

Soft hands on his face and he turned to kiss a palm. "I know it is maddening to go through the same foolishness time after time," Legolas told him. "Tell me how I can help."

Aragorn sighed to keep himself from answering. He ached to take Legolas away, to find a place where no one knew them; a place with a stout door, a good lock and a firm bed. He rubbed his bearded chin against the pale throat. "Would you object terribly if I issued a decree that all prince consorts must go naked for the next twenty years?"

He laughed when his Elf pretended to give the matter serious thought. "No," he shook his head. "I don't like it. There are other prince consorts around."

"True enough. How about if I word it 'the Prince Consort of Gondor'?"

"Better," Legolas answered, gently pulling free from his embrace and moving backwards until he was out of arm's reach. "At least I would not be forced to cut the throat of some fool from another realm."

"Now that would be bad for diplomatic relations." He smiled. 'Ah, my love, you are so good for me.'

Legolas nodded and began to slowly strip out of his robes. Robes. The world outside the palace walls was quite a different place from the one that had celebrated Aragorn's coronation and marriage, but for some damnable reason, no one wanted anything to change within the Court. He didn't begin to understand it, but it was one of the things he'd learned to honor. Besides, he liked the way Legolas looked in a tunic. He liked the way he looked out of it even more.

Freed of his clothing, the Elf did a slow turn for him. "Does this meet with his Majesty's approval?"

"Oh, yes," he purred, taking a step forward.

Legolas held up a hand demanding he stop. "The Prince Consort would like to add that the King must not wear anything in the royal bed chamber."

"A reasonable request." He took a moment to rid himself of his own clothing, then closed the distance between them. "Anything else?"

"Hmm, well, I might get very cold in the winters."

This from an Elf who didn't notice a blizzard raging around him. "I'll keep you warm," he promised, sweeping him up into his arms, then carrying him over to their bed. They were almost the same height, but Elves were lighter than Humans and he managed the task easily enough.

"How warm?" Legolas asked, laughing as he landed on the mattress.

He crawled up the bed, kissing a knee, thigh, stomach and nipple as he moved along the body so delightfully displayed for him. "Very, very warm."

A soft gasp when his lips took firmer hold of a nipple and Legolas arched to deepen the touch. "Show me."

For even longer than he had ruled he had made love to Legolas every chance he got. There was not a touch he could give, a sound he could make that the Elf had not felt or heard countless times before. Yet still they ached for each other, needed each other. Such a gift the Gods had given him.

The taste of sweet flesh, the warm, squirming body beneath him, left him no need for a paradise in some indistinct afterlife. Paradise was here. Inside this room.

Slick gel on his fingers, a practiced touch, then he pushed into an even greater paradise. "I love you. I would be lost without you," he whispered as they moved together and heard his own words repeated in an oh, so loved voice.

It was enough. He knew a love and a joy greater than any Man could ever hope for. Nothing else mattered. Nothing.

Legolas waited until he was certain Aragorn had fallen into a deep sleep before slipping out of their bed, but the moment he was free, his King murmured a complaint and reached for him.

Ah, Aragorn. What had he done to earn such a wondrous gift as this Man's love? "Sleep, beloved," he whispered. "I will return in a few moments."

A lie and he knew it, but Aragorn was sound enough asleep to believe him and settled back down. Reassured he would rest, Legolas pulled on a robe and left their chambers.

He made his way through the palace to the wing where favored guests were housed. He'd left the room he stood before only a few hours earlier, but what he wished to discuss required solitude and there had always been at least one attendant about.

Stepping inside the room, he was not surprised to find the bed empty. A Wizard had even less need for sleep than an Elf. "Gandalf?"

"Out here, dear boy."

Balcony. Voices could carry to unwelcomed ears from such a place. He did not move forward. "I would speak with you."

"Hmm, yes, I was expecting you," the White Wizard answered coming inside and closing the doors behind him. "Over an hour ago actually."

Legolas smiled. "And so I would have come then, but Aragorn-"

"Yes, it does an old heart good to see how he still dotes on you."

"No less than I do him."

"And that, of course, is what this is all about."

Denied the caress of the night wind against his skin, Legolas walked over to the fireplace and stared into the flames. He felt almost as if to speak would be to betray his Aragorn. He would do so, but he could not look Gandalf in the eye while he did it. "I fear for him."

"He is immortal. He cannot die."

Irritation flared, but he swallowed it. Gandalf loved to play games and would always take the long way around any discussion. Even though it was obvious he knew why Legolas was here. "It is his sanity I fear for. Not his life. You promised him once he need only rule until Men no longer had a need for a king."

"Well, yes, he only has himself to blame for it being otherwise. He is far too great a king for anyone with sense to wish to see him step down."

"Yes, he is wonderful." In so many ways. "But it has been too long, and the weight of it all is becoming more than he can bear."

"I agree, but I fear chaos and ruin would follow were he to abdicate in favor of another."

Legolas swallowed, his heart pounding. "Even if the new king were his child?"

"Hmm, such a succession might not result in the undoing of all the two of you have accomplished."

He closed his eyes and let out a long soft breath. It would work.

"But I doubt Aragorn would willingly lie with a woman." More games. "As if I wouldn't cut his heart out if he even thought of it."

"You have another solution in mind."

A sob caught in his throat. "I have to save him. I have to give him hope this burden will end one day."

"Go on."

"Many refer to me as his queen." It was always said to wound, as if any word that bound him to Aragorn could be an insult. "I would give him what only a queen can."

A long silence sent him pacing back and forth if front of the fireplace. "What you seek is possible, but it could become an even greater burden."

He stopped, then turned to give the Wizard a questioning look. "Can we die of it?" he asked. Always it was 'we', for their lives were entwined and what killed one would slay the other in the same moment.

"No, no need to worry about that. The birth would be as any other, but your life would never be in jeopardy."

He frowned. "Then what is this burden you speak of?"

"The child would be mortal. Long-lived due to your bloodline, but mortal all the same."

No parent should live to bury a child. He'd heard that lament more times than he cared to count and had never missed the anguish behind the words. He did not want to feel such pain, but - "It is a bitter price to pay, but I will pay it." It was that or watch Aragorn slowly lose his mind. "We cannot go on like this."

"And what will he say?"

"I have no intention of telling him until it is done."

"Do you think that wise?"

"No." He knew it was far from that, but spell or no, his body might not be able to accomplish the task. "I would not give him false hope or add to his worries."

Gandalf gave him a long look. "His cooperation is required."

He scowled at the sparkle in the Wizard's eye. "He will think it is a dream."

"You will drug him then."

He nodded.

"He will be angry."

"He will forgive me."

"Yes, I suppose he will." Gandalf shook his head. "The two of you are a force unto yourselves. Are you certain there is room in your hearts for a child?"

"It will be part of Aragorn. I will love it. And he will do no less for it will be part of me as well."

"Ah, and that would be the true reason you do not seek a simpler means of giving him a heir."

Legolas nodded. "It must be part of me." He knew his Aragorn all too well. Even if he could be convinced to lie with a woman until she conceived, he would never be able to look at the resulting child and not see it as a betrayal to their love. He would never love it as well as he should.

"Very well," Gandalf said, picking up his staff. "If you are so determined to be a mother, let us get it done."

"Mother?"

"That is the word Human's use to describe the one giving birth, is it not."

"So it is." He unbelted his robe, then ran a hand along the flatness of his stomach. "Come cast your spell. And may my lord forgive us both."

A scream of agony sent Aragorn hurtling out of his bed. "Legolas!" he cried, but he was alone.

He wrenched his old sword from the decorative mounting on the wall and ran into the hallway. He did not bother to call for his consort again. Instead he let instinct guide him and quickly covered the distance between his rooms and the guest quarters.

Gandalf's room. Fear churned his stomach and he threw the doors open to find Legolas lying on the floor, all but insensible at the Wizard's feet. "Legolas," he whispered, dropping to his knees beside the Elf, his sword falling from his hand.

"Hmm, didn't expect you to hear that," Gandalf muttered. "The softest of cries really. Barely heard it myself."

"What have you done?" he asked, horrified at the heat radiating from Legolas' skin. A fever. But he never got sick. Even before they were bonded, he never got sick.

"Umm, well, I was doing some minor casting and didn't hear him come into the room. Must have gotten too close. Nothing to worry about, it will pass in a moment."

A spell? In the blink of an eye, the sword was in his hand and he'd shoved Gandalf up against the wall far from the staff he needed to work his magic. "My Consort is not a pawn for one of your schemes, Wizard," he spat, pressing the blade to the withered neck.

He wanted to kill him. Wanted to slit his throat and see the blood run red over his white robes. He could see the fear in Gandalf's eyes as he pressed steel to flesh. Wanted to do it. Would have done it, but-

"Aragorn, no."

The weakness of his Elf's voice, made him press all the harder and blood welled around he blade.

"Please, need you. Now."

It was not within him to deny such a plea. He cast aside the sword and returned to Legolas, pulling him into his arms. "It's all right," he murmured into the golden hair. "I'm here."

He heard Gandalf move. Heard the scrap of the staff as he picked it up. It should have heralded Aragorn's last living moments, but he did not fear it. "Get out of my kingdom, Wizard," he hissed, cradling his Elf against his chest. "Get out and never come back."

"No, Aragorn," Legolas groaned, clutching at him with far more strength than he'd shown a moment earlier. Whatever had happened, it seemed Gandalf had spoken true when he said the Elf would recover quickly.

"Do not concern yourself, Legolas," Gandalf said. "I will go now, but should you ever seek my aid again, Aragorn, you need only send for me."

"Get out," he spat again. He did not hear or see Gandalf go, but suddenly knew he was gone.

Legolas struggled to his feet, but would have fallen again had not Aragorn been there to support him. "Call him back."

He shook his head. "I don't trust him." Never had he thought to see the day when he would say such a thing, but it was not a new thought. Gandalf always had an agenda and one had good cause to fear being on the wrong side of it.

"Then trust me. This is my doing, do not lose your oldest friend because of me."

Aragorn shook his head. "I will not issue a formal banishment, but he will not come near you again until I know exactly what happened here."

Legolas had the grace to look away. "I will tell you. In time."

He hugged his Consort close. "Then in time, I will allow his return."

Eyes so beautiful they never failed to take his breath away stared into his. "You know I am hiding something."

"Of course."

"Why aren't you angry with me?"

He frowned. He supposed he should be yelling or something, but he could not find the will to do so. "Will you tell me the truth any sooner if I lose my temper?"

Another guilty glance away from him. "I cannot. Not yet. Please trust me in this."

He nodded. "Then you must trust my unease where Gandalf is concerned. He always has motives within motives."

Legolas did not look happy, but he nodded after a few moments.

"Good." He stooped down and retrieved his sword. Blood stained the blade for the first time in centuries. He would have to clean it before he slept again.

"Gods," Legolas murmured, drawing back his attention.

He held out his free hand. "Come, I would sleep a few more hours with you in my arms before I return to squabbling Dwarves."

To his surprise, Legolas shook his head. "I will not share the sight of you like this with anyone else."

Sight of-? He looked down at himself. Naked with nothing but a sword in his hand.

His lips twitched into a smile as Legolas pulled a sheet off the bed.

It would be all right, he told himself. Something stood between them that had not been there before, but all that had been there before remained. He would trust in moments like this and allow Legolas to keep his secret. For now.

Legolas waited two nights before his body told him it was ready. As he had the night this all began, he slipped from a sleeping Aragorn's arms.

His absence made the Human began to wake almost immediately, but the Elf moved quickly and struck a match to a special candle he had prepared.

"Legolas," Aragorn muttered, his arm slipping around the Elf's waist. "Come back to bed."

He did not resist the pull and curled back up against Aragorn. He kissed him softly.

The Human responded, then wrinkled his nose. "What is that scent?"

"Something I made especially for you. Do you like it?"

"Yes."

Legolas grinned. He could tell he hated it, but even mostly asleep the King could never hurt his feelings. "Give it a moment."

The scent grew stronger and Aragorn remained half-asleep. "You are having a dream, my love," he whispered when the moment was right.

"Good dream," he muttered. "Have you with me."

"Yes, a good dream." With a practiced touch, he began to arouse him, and Aragorn made soft sounds of pleasure.

When the moment was right, he shifted up to straddle his King's hips. The small opening just behind Legolas' sac admitted the hard cock more easily than Aragorn's usual entrance, but both Man and Elf immediately frowned.

It felt different and Legolas had no liking for it. Aragorn seemed of a similar mind, shifting restlessly instead of driving toward completion.

Fearing the candle would fail to keep him from full consciousness, he began to sing softly and undulate his hips. A song of love and desire, a song about them. Between it and the friction, he finished his task quickly. It was done.

He lost the baby within a week. Though it saddened Legolas greatly, it had never felt right. Once again the fear his body would fail this task gripped him, and he struggled to hide his fear and grief from Aragorn. He wasn't very good at it.

Aragorn was in his office when he felt it. Reviewing petitions, signing decrees, etc., etc. - all in all he'd rather face down a horde of Orcs, he thought with a sigh. He would have given half-his kingdom for a moment's distraction, then withdrew the foolish wish a instant later when Legolas provided one.

At the moment he did not know where his Consort was, but he suddenly felt him. Sad. So sad. "Enough of this," he hissed to the walls and rose. For weeks he had sensed the sadness within his beloved, but he'd held his tongue knowing it must have to do with the damnable secret the Elf seemed determined to keep. No longer. His patience was at an end.

He strode through the hallways with the same confidence he always knew when seeking his absent love. He found him in the far tower. Sitting with his legs pulled tightly against his chest, the wind ruffling his hair, tears streaming down his face - it was a sight to make any Man's heart break, let alone one who loved him.

Aragorn sat down beside him and waited. A few seconds passed, then Legolas slipped onto his lap and buried his face against the Man's shoulder. He held him, soothed him, then gently whispered, "Tell me."

Words flowed between the tears. "I've failed you. I fear I will always fail you."

"What has happened?" He thought himself braced to hear anything. He was wrong.

"The baby. I lost our baby."

For a moment he feared some fever, then he remembered this had to do with magic and Gandalf. "You were pregnant." He did not doubt the child had been his. He remembered all too well a strange, disturbing dream were Legolas had seemed wrong as they moved together.

"Yes. Please don't be angry with me."

Lovely, tear-streaked face, eyes full of pain - any harsh words he might have managed were lost at the sight. He hugged him close. "Tell me all of it."

He listened as Legolas softly told him the details of the night the spell had been cast and the Elf's reasons for trying to keep it from Aragorn. He understood. He might have done the same had such a solution occurred to him. They tended to be over-protective of one another.

"I am not angry," he said, cupping the beloved face in his hands, "but you were wrong not to tell me. I would share your pain and fear as well as your joy."

The gaze dropped, but he did not try to pull away. "I'm sorry."

He nodded his acceptance of the apology, then asked, "Now, do you want a child? Not some sacrificial lamb doomed to follow in my footsteps, but a child to love no matter what path it chooses?"

"Yes, Aragorn. I did not know how much I wanted it until it was lost."

"Then we will do this together."

The baby they made in the tower stuck fast in Legolas' womb and grew. A small part of Aragorn wished it otherwise. He could not shake the feeling Gandalf had decided it would happen with Aragorn's knowledge or not all.

Perhaps it was not a fair thought, perhaps it was a sign his mind was slipping away into delusion, but Boromir was in his thoughts often these days.

Not even Legolas had asked him why Boromir had been allowed to join the Fellowship when he'd so obviously wanted the Ring himself. He had spoken to Gandalf about his fears where the other Man was concerned before they'd left Rivendell. He would never forget Gandalf's answer. "Better a weakness we know of, than one unseen."

To his shame, he had seen the sense of it and had raised no further objection. He had done what he could to save him, but Boromir's fate had been fixed the moment he'd set foot in Rivendell.

His lap was suddenly full of an affectionate Elf, and he gave his attention to the kiss.

When their lips parted, Legolas shifted around to recline against him, then smiled up at him when Aragorn's hand settled on his belly.

"Your tunic will not hide our secret for much longer, my love," he said.

"Our anniversary is in three weeks. We could announce it then."

He nodded his agreement, then noticed the way the eyes he loved so much were gleaming.

"I dreamed of him last night."

"Him?"

He nodded. "Our son grows beneath your hand. He will look much like you, but have my eyes and hair."

He did not doubt it. An Elf-mother often had a vision of her child. "Did he tell you his name?"

"In a way. He said you knew his name."

He closed his eyes and pulled Legolas close. "Boromir. His name is Boromir."

"His hips are very narrow."

Legolas scowled at the Midwife and decided she looked an awful lot like a pink Orc. Though her family had served the Court for many generations, discovering she would be assisting in the birth of the heir to the throne had obviously been a shock, but it had worn off all too soon. Now she seemed bent on making him pay for not consulting her sooner.

"What does that mean?" Aragorn asked, his hand tightening around Legolas'.

She gave the King an assessing look. "It means I'd best keep a sedative for you on hand."

Legolas couldn't help it, he had to laugh. "A wise idea," he admitted. "He is apt to get cross."

"I was thinking more along the lines of hysterical," she said.

"That too."

With dark looks for both of them Aragorn said, "If you are both finished."

She sighed. "In truth, your Majesty, I do not know what it means. This babe owes more to magic than biology."

"Then we will trust in that magic," Legolas told her. "Gandalf said this was not something I could die of, the rest is merely pain."

She eyed his hips again in a manner he found . foreboding, but she nodded. "So it is."

Aragorn stood at the window of his office, staring out at the world he'd helped create and ignoring the Wizard he had finally sent for. After an hour of silence, he asked, "Did your magic slay the first child?"

"No."

He believed him. He had to. "I should not have doubted you."

"You have lived too long to have any fear save one. Fear for him."

He nodded. "Although I know it is not possible, living on without him terrifies me as not even Sauron reborn could."

A hand settled on his shoulder. "If another had said such a thing, I would call him a fool, but a terror of our own making is often greater than another's." The hand tightened. "You will never lose him."

"You have foreseen this?"

"Yes, if it gives you comfort to know it. I have gotten the feeling of late you distrust any truth I might offer."

"Forgive me, old friend. The past has weighed heavily on my shoulders of late." He sighed. "Some times it is easier to blame others for one's own failures."

"You speak of Boromir."

"In part. So many lives have rested on my decisions. His was but one of them."

"Ah, but he was the one who fell before you accepted your destiny."

Destiny. What a foul word. "I surrendered to it, Gandalf. I never accepted it. And even that had much to do with Boromir."

"He showed you there was good in Men."

He nodded. Until their meeting, he had mostly shunned his own kind, preferring to keep the company of Elves.

"Then give him credit for not being a blind fool."

He turned to look at the Wizard. "What?"

"He knew the Ring preyed on his mind even in Rivendell, but he chose to join the Fellowship."

"Are you saying he chose his fate?"

"No, I am certain he hoped to overcome the Ring's call, but he knew he might fail. Do not allow guilt and the press of time to rob him of the courage of a choice freely made."

He rubbed his eyes. He had not slept well since they had named their unborn child. His dreams had made him certain the child was more the Boromir's namesake, but the Man himself about to be reborn. "He will take Legolas from me," he whispered. "The price for my failure to save him."

"Not in this lifetime or any other," Gandalf scoffed. "You worry needlessly. And what frets you, frets the Elf."

"You do not play fair, Wizard."

Gandalf smiled. "I'm known for my devious mind."

Legolas hated being pregnant. He'd freely admit that he'd been caught up in the wonder of it all for a month or two, but after that it had been the most miserable time of his life.

His back hurt constantly. He looked like an Oliphant and the stupid belly even kept them from having sex face-to-face. Worse, every time he whined about it, Aragorn's eyebrows would raise in an unmistakable 'this was your idea' pronouncement. If he didn't love the Man so much, he would have put an arrow through his heart long ago.

He shifted again, then rose from his throne with an impatient gesture to the attendants who rushed to aid him. "I'm fine," he hissed, startling the Hobbits who had been petitioning for . something. His back really hurt too much to pay attention.

Well, that and worrying about what was going on between Aragorn and Gandalf. He hoped the Wizard could ease the King's mind for his Consort had certainly failed.

He knew nightmares tormented Aragorn, but the Man would not discuss them. He merely clung to Legolas and lay awake most of the night rather than risk sleep again. It could not go on like this. Even immortals needed to rest. And, damnit, his back hurt!

Legolas gave serious consideration to stalking out of here and demanding Aragorn rub his back, but decided it was unprincely. He sighed and tried to focus on the Hobbits again. A sudden rush of fluid between his legs altered his plans.

Aragorn laughed, then blinked in surprise. He could not remember the last time he'd found anything to laugh about when Legolas was not near.

"Laughter is the best medicine for the life you lead," Gandalf said with a gentle smile. "You should seek it more often."

"Yes, I suppose I have let the crown overwhelm me too much of late."

Gandalf raised an eyebrow.

"All right, for the last few years."

It rose higher.

"Centuries."

The white head nodded and Aragorn couldn't help but grin. "I have missed you, my friend. I am sorry I allowed anger to guide my words."

Gandalf waved his hand as if it were of no consequence. "An immortal life gives one time to feel all things, Aragorn. Anger and doubt among them."

"I-" A shadow of pain brushed his belly, and he spat the vilest curse he knew. "Damned fool Elf," he muttered rushing for the door.

As he entered the hallway, he heard Gandalf call after him, "No need to rush, dear boy. This is going to take awhile."

Legolas closed his eyes as another contraction rippled through him. 'Don't feel it,' he chanted to himself. 'Don't let him feel it.'

The Orc his beloved King had entrusted him to chose that moment to disrupt his concentration by thrusting some vile brew under his nose. "Are you trying to poison me, Woman?" he demanded, then cringed as the doors burst open.

The Midwife dared look in Aragorn's direction, then pushed the cup toward him once again. "Drink this."

He turned his head away. "It smells disgusting."

"Don't look at me like that," she snapped in the King's direction. "He won't allow me to give him something stronger for the pain."

He glared at her. It was his permanent expression when she was anywhere near him. "I am not in pain." He was an Elf damnit!

She rolled her eyes.

"Drink it, Legolas."

He refused to look at Aragorn. "I don't need it."

"Drink!" he roared.

He drank, then turned his glare on Aragorn. "Happy?"

"Not even close," he announced folding his arms over his chest. "I thought we had agreed to do this together."

He cast a pleading look at the Orc, um, Midwife. Do something!

She sighed. "Your Majesty, it will be many hours-"

Aragorn silenced her with a look, then moved to the bed. None to gently, he pushed Legolas forward, then slipped onto the bed behind him. Once settled he drew Legolas back against his chest.

The pain lessened at the touch, then he had to go back to glaring as the Midwife gave him a knowing smirk. Probably thought it was her vile herbs working. Blasted Orc.

For two days Aragorn held Legolas while the contractions shuddered through him. But the Elf never made a sound or showed the slightest sign of distress.

"So brave, so beautiful," he whispered into his ears.

"Such an Oliphant," the Elf grated back.

"But a very beautiful Oliphant," Aragorn assured him, then laughed at the expected glare. "I love you," he said around his smile.

Legolas smiled back, then his face slipped into the neutral expression which heralded another contraction.

Aragorn looked at the Midwife. "They are coming much faster now."

She'd given up all efforts to track the labor herself. An Elf was simply beyond her skills, but it made Aragorn feel better to have her near. He might yet have need of that sedative.

When he told her, she pulled the sheet down to bare Legolas and helped him position the Elf's legs.

"Aragorn?" Frightened.

Aragorn kissed him, then began to sing. His voice lacked the beauty of an Elf's but Legolas always seemed to enjoy hearing it. He sang and held on tight as Boromir burst once more into the world of Men.

He ignored the squalling babe and kissed his mother's neck, nuzzling him, gentling him through the passage of the afterbirth. It was over.

Legolas shifted, burying his face in Aragorn's chest and clinging to the arms holding him. The King closed his eyes. He had never been one to forgive anyone who harmed his Elf. He didn't know if he could endure the sight of the baby who had done this to Legolas.

"Gentlemen," the Midwife's voice cut through the darkness and urged him to open his eyes. He refused. "Your son."

He felt Legolas shift again, his arms moving, then he settled back against Aragorn's chest. "Look at him, my love," the Elf said. "Look at what we've done."

He could deny the Elf nothing, so he opened his eyes and stared down at a small face. It was red and squnched. Didn't look a thing like him despite Legolas' dream. Then small eyes opened and his breath caught in his throat. The infant's Elven-half shown there in the bright blue-green of eyes so like his mother's.

In wonder he reached out and touched a tiny hand. It opened to let him caress the smallest of palms and for the second time in Aragorn's life, his heart was utterly ensnared.

Epilog: Thirty-six years later

Legolas walked among the stone monuments on the palace grounds, moving further and further from the noise of the party. It grated on the Elf's nerves.

He reached a point where a Human would have been blessed with silence, but not an Elf. The celebration hummed like the buzz of an annoying insect. He still stopped.

"Well met my friends," he said, running his hand along the nearest stone. Frodo Baggins it read. Next came Samwise Gamgee. After the quest, the Shire had not called to Frodo. He'd stayed with them instead, haunting the hallways of the palace, Sam ever at his side. They'd kept so to themselves many whispered they'd left these shores and traveled to Valinor with the few Elves who had opted not to remain.

The monuments came next. One for each member of the Fellowship. Gimli, how he missed the gruff Dwarf's sense of humor. Merry and Pippin, another set of inseparable Hobbits, but they had returned to the Shire. Finally, Boromir. The stone image of his son's namesake seemed to mock him. "What would you know of it Human?" he asked. "This is not a day you ever had to face."

"Mother."

He turned toward his son. So like Aragorn, but with Legolas' eyes and hair. "You should not be here, Boromir. Unlike me, you will be missed."

"I feared you would leave without saying goodbye."

He crossed the few feet separating them in the blink of an eye and took his son into his arms. "Never."

A Human's strength all but crushed his ribs, but he never wanted it to end. But all things ended.

Boromir drew back. "I know you don't approve of Eowyn, Mother, but can't you be happy for me?"

"I don't disapprove of her," he protested. "It is just that she is-"

"Human."

"Mortal," he corrected.

Boromir shook his head in confusion. "As am I."

He closed his eyes against the pain he saw in his son. He'd made such a mess of things. How did he fix this? The truth might work. "It was folly, but a part of me hoped you would find what your father and I have."

"Immortality through love."

"Yes." A foolish hope, but one he had stubbornly clung to until his son had exchanged wedding vows with a Woman a few hours ago.

A kind smile graced Boromir's face. "I do not think immortality would suit me." A shadow crossed his face. "But I have many years before me."

Many more than his bride. Ah, how well he knew that fear. It had been years after he'd fallen in love with Aragorn before they'd learned they had bonded in a way not seen in memory. "I have not yet given you my wedding gift." He reached into his tunic and drew out a vial. "If Eowyn drinks this, her lifespan will lengthen enough to grant you a long life together."

His smile gladdened Legolas' heart as he took the vial.

"Thank you," he said, kissing Legolas' cheek, then with a grin he gave him another rib-cracking hug.

"Boromir, how many times have I told you not to break your mother?"

With a grin, he drew back. "A few."

Aragorn sighed. "And yet every time you come near him, I feel the need to summon a physician."

Their son didn't look at all repentant.

"And then there is the matter of protocol. The King of Gondor seems to be missing from his own wedding. I don't think the Queen is very amused."

"Oops."

"You might say that."

"I better get back," he started toward the palace, then stopped. "You won't leave tonight."

Aragorn shook his head. "I promised you a week to enjoy your bride in peace. After that, I am whisking my Elf away to enjoy the same for at least a year."

"Aragorn!" Legolas chided, fighting a blush.

"Ah, yes, I forgot. He's much too young to hear of my sordid plans for you," Aragorn said with the same unrepentant grin their son had worn moments earlier.

"Both of you are hopeless," Legolas muttered.

Boromir rolled his eyes. "I'm going back to the party." He turned his gaze to his father. "Don't let Mother stay out here too long. He'll brood."

"Yes, I know. It's a terrible trait I've had to suffer for centuries."

Shear outrage robbed Legolas of his voice.

Boromir laughed and said what so many had said before, "You two deserve each other. Good night."

Legolas waited until Boromir was out of earshot, then hissed, "You are the one who broods."

Aragorn laughed and captured him in his arms. "Not for thirty some years, my Elf," he said, nipping at the nearest pointed ear. "My beautiful Consort gifted me with a gorgeous son and my heart no longer has room for gloom."

Legolas settled against his shoulder. "We will lose him, Aragorn."

"As we have lost our friends."

"Yes."

"And what would they say to that?"

He knew the answer in an instant, voices of old sounding in his head, too well remembered to ever fade. "I take your meaning. As long as we live, they live."

"Yes. I cannot save us from the pain we will feel at Boromir's passing, but we will also know the joy of dancing at the wedding of every generation to come. And each in turn will live on in our hearts."

Tears stung his eyes and he saw an answering wetness in Aragorn's. The future was both beautiful and terrible, but he could endure anything when his love was near. "Take me back to the palace," he whispered. "I would dance at my son's wedding."

"In a moment," Aragorn whispered, then kissed him.

End

Back