1. Not Again
Rating: 15s (R) for non-explicit m/m slash, bad language, and mild drug abuse.
Disclaimer: I am but a humble technician, defender of the water treatment lab with my B.Sc. of elfin gold (well, chemistry). How could I have conjured up such a vastly detailed world, with so many well-drawn people in it? The one you seek is J.R.R. Tolkien.
Summary: Parody. Legolas finds himself pregnant. Again.
Feedback: Feed the Wulf! email@example.com
Special Thanks: To Araniell, who kindly beta-read this fic for me. :-)
Author’s Note: This is a PARODY. In it, I have portrayed certain characters in particular ways for comedic purposes. I don’t hate any of the characters. I have nothing against slash (as those of you familiar with my Buffy fics will know) or m’preg. I chose to lampoon this genre because of the vast array of M’pregolas fics out there. This is not a bashfic, unbeta’d and envenomed; it’s supposed to be funny. So relax, guy! It’s only a book.
Legolas stalked into the room, face black as thunder.
“ What did the physician say?” Aragorn enquired.
Legolas halted and glared at him.
“ I am with child,” he snapped in barely restrained rage. “ Yet again!”
Aragorn grinned. “ I did think you had a certain glow about you…”
“ It’s not funny!” Legolas shouted, grabbing Aragorn by the shoulders and shaking him. “ I do not even know who the father is!”
Haldir clucked his tongue disapprovingly.
“ That’s what one gets for being a slut,” he declared.
“ It’s not like that!” Legolas yelled.
“ What is it like, then?” Haldir asked primly.
“ What is any non-canon slash like?” Legolas replied. “ There was a party! I’d had too much to drink.” He sat down and kicked sulkily at the ground. “ He had long hair and a beard.”
“ Well, that certainly narrows it down,” Gimli muttered.
Legolas stood up and advanced on the Dwarf.
“ It was you, wasn’t it?”
“ No!” Gimli swore. “ I promise, I never touched you!”
Legolas swung around and made his way towards Aragorn. “ Then it was YOU!”
“ I understand why you think so after the other… several… times…” Aragorn backed away and fell over a chair. “…but it wasn’t me, I swear.”
The prince of Mirkwood looked as if he would burst into tears.
“ I don’t want another baby!” he cried. “ I’ve had five by you, one by Gimli…”
Gimli coughed and looked nervous.
“…two by Lord Elrond, one each by Glorfindel, Elladan and Elrohir, one by *Galadriel* somehow…”
“ Yes, that was odd,” Aragorn agreed.
“…and one by Boromir,” Legolas finished. “ I’ve given birth thirteen times! Can you imagine what my figure would be like if it weren’t for my Elvish metabolism?”
Aragorn frowned. “ I thought it was fourteen times.”
“ I didn’t actually *give birth* to Haldina,” Legolas snapped.
“ Well I *loved* being pregnant,” Haldir remarked, bouncing his five-year-old daughter on his knee. He smirked at Legolas. “ Remember how randy I got when I was about five months gone?”
Legolas ran his hands through his hair in exasperation.
“ And who ends up having to look after them all? Me!”
“ Hey, hey, hey!” Boromir snapped. “ I take care of my son!” He laid a towel on his shoulder and winded Baby Boz. “ I just have other things to do most of the time, that’s all. Like defend Gondor.”
“ And steal magic rings,” Aragorn added.
“ And steal magi –” Boromir broke off and glared at him. “ Shut up!”
Gimli bristled indignantly. “ I take Balina every weekend.”
“ Yes, and then you act completely irresponsibly and give our eight-year-old an axe,” Legolas sniffed. “ She nearly cut Elysia’s head off last week.” He rounded on Aragorn. “ And where were YOU when all that was going on?”
“ I was feeding Arathorn II!” Aragorn said defensively. “ Which was *supposed* to be Aragorn Junior’s job.”
“ Oh, sorry for being born, Father!” Aragorn Junior shouted.
“ We didn’t *ask* to be here, you know,” Legolas Junior added sulkily.
“ How do you suppose *we* feel?” Good Arwen asked. “ My sister Sylvia and my brother Sylvester are also my niece and nephew – not to mention my two-year-old sister is also my AUNT, for Elbereth’s sake!”
Legolas picked up a water pitcher and threw it at the wall.
“ I WANT AN ABORTION!”
There was a shocked silence.
“ Don’t say that!” Aragorn hissed. “ Every pro-lifer on the ’Net will start leaving us spam reviews!”
“ I care not!” Legolas roared. “ I –”
He broke off, going pale. His stomach made an ominous gurgling sound.
“ Here comes the hilarious morning sickness,” he moaned, before dashing to the water closet.
Gimli raised his eyebrows and blew out a breath.
Elrond Junior tugged at Aragorn’s sleeve.
“ Ada doesn’t hate us, does he Uncle Aragorn?”
“ No, of course not,” Aragorn assured him. “ He merely feels a little unwell because he’s going to have another baby.”
Elrond Junior pulled a face. “Another one?”
Legolas emerged from the bathroom, managing to look nauseous and furious at the same time.
“ I want this thing out of me,” he snarled.
Aragorn sighed and approached the Elf.
“ Why don’t you sleep on it?” he suggested.
Legolas closed his eyes and considered. “ Hmm. Crush it. Miscarriage. Natural causes.” He opened his eyes again. “ Excellent idea.” He headed towards his chamber.
Aragorn buried his face in his hands.
Gimli shook his head. “ He should know better than to try and thwart the Almighty Plot Device.”
There was a shriek from Legolas’s bedchamber. Boromir cursed as Boz jerked awake and began to wail. Legolas emerged from his room, both hands on his swollen belly.
“ Get Gandalf over here, now!
Gandalf eyed Legolas’s bump thoughtfully, and stroked his beard.
“ Well?” Legolas asked anxiously.
“ It seems your pregnancy is progressing at an accelerated rate,” Gandalf remarked.
Legolas stared at him incredulously. “ No, really? I would never have guessed.” He struggled to sit up and Aragorn gave him a hand. The Elf swung his legs off the bed. “ Right.”
“ What will you do?” Boromir asked.
“ First,” Legolas declared, “ I shall find last year’s paternity clothes. And then I shall find out whose baby this is, and chop off his bits with a rusty sword.”
Aragorn, Gimli, Haldir and Boromir all winced.
Gandalf had another long toke of that well-known variety of pipeweed, Five-Fronded Mary Jane, and turned back to the expectant Adar.
“ I can helf you tedermine the father of your baby,” he announced. “ Just pop your clothes… oh no, that’s something else entirely… just lie back on the bed, good man – Elf – whatever in Mordor you are…”
Legolas stared at the wizard in trepidation, then slowly lay back down. Aragorn took his hand. Gandalf held his arms out in front of him, over Legolas’s bump. He began to circle them in opposite directions, getting them tangled up at first, but eventually thin smoke began to form over Legolas’s belly.
“ Noooow… waaaatch foooor… cluuuuues…”
Legolas gripped Aragorn’s hand a little tighter.
The smoke grew thicker and turned purple.
“ Aha!” Gandalf declared, giggling with joy. “ Your child has royal blood.”
“ Not me! Not me!” Aragorn shouted hastily, as Legolas narrowed his eyes and glared at him.
“ Wait, there’s something more,” Haldir said, pointing to the purple smoke. The cloud clumped together, then gradually formed the shape of a horse’s head.
“ It’s Shadowfax!” Boromir yelled in horror. “ The baby’s father is bloody SHADOWFAX!”
Legolas went rigid and started making high-pitched sounds of distress only audible to other Elves. Gimli stood on a footstool and slapped Boromir on the back of his head.
“ Don’t be ridiculous!” the Dwarf growled. “ Shadowfax doesn’t have a beard.”
Legolas sighed in relief and relaxed completely. Aragorn pulled away, whimpering and nursing his sore hand.
“ Well what *does* the horse mean, then?” Boromir grumbled.
Haldir shrugged. “ Rohan?”
“ Yes!” Legolas punched his fist into his other hand. “ I wager it was Théodred. Everyone knows he is gay.” He pointed dramatically. “ To Rohan!”
“ Uh… ’scuse me!” Good Arwen called. “ What about all of us?”
“ Oh…” Aragorn shrugged. “ Surely you older children can care for the little ones…”
Good Arwen folded her arms.
“ Oh yeah?” she exclaimed. “ The last time you left us to take care of ourselves, *I* ended up doing everything because A.J. and Leggy fecked off to go hunting!”
“ Traitor!” Aragorn Junior shouted. “ We swore you to secrecy!”
“ You’re dead, ’Wen!” Legolas Junior yelled.
“ I will not be left with all the work just because you two want to skive off!” Good Arwen bawled.
Legolas imagined a baby caterwauling over the argument and burst into tears.
“ See what you have done!” Aragorn shouted. “ All three of you, to your rooms!”
“ Oh, Aragorn, they are not to blame,” Legolas gulped, as his eldest children stalked out. “ It’s… it’s just my hormones…” He began to tear up again.
“ Poor darling,” Haldir murmured, rubbing Legolas’s back. “ Shall I feed you chocolate?”
Legolas nodded. “ Yes please.”
“ Very well.” Haldir placed a soft kiss on the other Elf’s neck. “ Shall I put on that gossamer thing you like, too?”
“ No, I’m…” Legolas paused to wipe his eyes. “ …I’m not quite at that stage, yet.”
“ I’ll, I’ll go and run you a bath,” Gimli mumbled awkwardly, feeling uncomfortable at even discreet Elf-on-Elf action.
“ Thank you,” Legolas sniffled.
“ A nice hot bath,” Haldir murmured soothingly, massaging Legolas’s shoulders. “ You will like that.”
“ In the meantime, I shall see if I can find guardians for the children while we are gone,” Aragorn declared, donning his cloak.
“ I shall watch Haldina,” Haldir volunteered.
“ And I can look after Boz,” Boromir added.
“ Would Denethor not like to spend time with him?”
Boromir shook his head.
“ Father does indeed dote on his grandson,” he explained to Aragorn, “ but he is forever using Boz’s existence as yet another stick with which to beat poor Faramir.” He scowled and clutched Boz tightly. “ I will not have my son used in that manner.”
“ Very well,” Aragorn remarked. “ Two down. Twelve to go.” He left the house, mounted his horse, and rode for Lothlorien.
Gimli added some more hot water to the tub, followed by a few drops of lavender. He picked up a pumice stone and began gently scrubbing Legolas’s shoulders. The blonde Elf sighed and stroked his bump.
“ I want this baby to be the final one,” he declared. “ This shall be my last pregnancy.” He looked up at Gandalf. “ Do you understand?”
“ No problem,” Gandalf giggled. He stumbled around the room, blowing smoke ships. “ We shall lash your legs together and pack your arse with glue!”
Legolas glared as the wizard slipped on a stray bar of soap and fell to the floor in hysterics.
“ No,” he growled, “ I want a hysterectomy!”
“ But don’t you need a womb to have –”
Legolas shot Gimli a withering look.
“ Just where do you think the baby’s growing?” he asked.
“ Oh… aye,” Gimli mumbled. “ ’Tis most irregular, though.”
“ Yes…” Legolas lay back in the tub and closed his eyes.
“ Oh!” Gimli looked around in panic and fumbled for his axe as the room began to wobble. “What treachery is this?!”
“ Flashback,” Gandalf tittered. “ Oh bugger, now I’ve got hiccups…”
//“ And that’s really where baby Elves come from?” teenage (well, eighty-year-old, in the common reckoning. Ai Varda, Elves keep their innocence for so long!) Legolas asked his father.
Gimli stared at the huge, wood-panelled room in confusion.
“ Where are we?” he whispered to Gandalf.
“ King Thranduil’s counting house,” Gandalf replied, before stuffing his shoe into his mouth.
“ Well, yes,” King Thranduil replied, counting out his money. “ Except that you do not always require a female Elf in order to have a baby.”
Teen (Octogenarian) Legolas frowned.
“ What do you mean, Father?”
“ Why, I mean that male Silvan Elves like you and I have wombs,” Thranduil explained. “ In fact, ’twas I who bore you, not your mother.”
“ Yes, I don’t know why I said ‘Silvan’ when it’s so obviously Sylvan,” Thranduil remarked thoughtfully, “ but there you are. Now be off with you! You’ll be late for archery practice.”//
The room wobbled again and Gimli and Gandalf found themselves back in the bathroom. Gimli shuddered and picked up a bottle of Rivendell Orgasmic Shampoo (For Silky Elvish Hair).
Haldir sauntered into the room, clad in a very revealing gossamer nightshirt, and bearing a small tray of exquisite chocolates.
“ Now, my darling,” he murmured, perching on the edge of the bath and slipping a chocolate into Legolas’s mouth. “ So tense! Shall I join you?”
Gimli blushed and started working the shampoo into Legolas’s hair, keeping his eyes on the back of the Elf’s head.
“ Don’t be silly, Hal,” Legolas replied teasingly. “ Your nightshirt will be ruined.”
“ Oh, dearheart,” Haldir whispered huskily, “ I had no intention of leaving it on.”
Gimli squeezed his eyes shut and began to sing nervously.
“ I’ve been digging in the mountain, all the live-long day…”
“ Yippee wippee wippee!” Gandalf shrieked from the floor.
“ Please, Galadriel!” Aragorn begged. “Can you not take Little Galadriel for a while? Legolas is most stressed at the moment –”
“ I told you, Aragorn,” Galadriel replied disinterestedly, “ she throws up whenever she hears Celeborn’s voice.” She went back to plucking her eyebrows.
Aragorn directed a steely glare at Galadriel’s back. Someone needed to learn her Elvish ass some responsibility, mm-hmm. He mounted his horse and set out for Rivendell.
Legolas stared glumly at himself in the mirror and burst into tears.
“ I’m fat!” he wailed, having another forkful of cake. “ Fat… fat… fat as a pig!”
“ Shh,” Haldir murmured. He put his arms around the Legolas and took the plate of cake from him. “ Darling, you’re glowing.” He kissed the other Elf on the lips. “ So sexy. I love you like this.”
Legolas wiped his eyes. “ Really?”
“ Mmm.” Haldir stroked Legolas’s golden hair. “ Shall we retire to your bedchamber for a few hours? Let Auntie Hal make it all better…”
Gimli stuffed his pigtails in his ears and hurried away.
“ Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to work I go…”
“ Notice how we’ve vanished from the story now that we’re inconvenient?” Good Arwen remarked.
“ Think any of the readers have?” Legolas Junior replied.
Gandalf staggered by, licking a toad.
“ And just who’s watching us while Ada and Auntie Hal are off indulging in some afternoon delight?” Aragorn Junior wanted to know.
“ Uncle Boromir and Uncle Gimli,” Estelle answered, nodding at Boromir and Gimli doing a little dance for the other ten children, who were gleefully pelting them with fruit.
“ Ah,” A.J. remarked, nodding. “ Let’s get some horse manure.”
Aragorn made a cautious entrance into Rivendell. He gazed around the grounds and spotted a familiar figure.
Arwen scowled and began to walk away. Aragorn broke into a run and caught up with her.
“ Go away, Legolas lover,” Arwen growled.
“ Please, Arwen,” Aragorn begged in Sindarin, hoping she could not resist his beautiful, yet troubled, eyes. “ I have a favour to ask of you… and of your father –”
“ No,” Arwen snapped, turning from him.
Aragorn took her arm.
“ But you have not even heard my request!”
Arwen haughtily unhanded him.
“ I am well aware that in being shrill and bitchy, I am merely perpetuating a hackneyed convention of slashfic,” she said, “ but I gave up my immortality for you, ‘Elessar’. And not only did you take up with the Prince of Mirkwood, you then begat five children with him!” Aragorn opened his mouth to explain, but Arwen wouldn’t let him. “ *I* could have married Rumil and taken the ship to Valinor, but nooo! Now I shall die alone and childless, and it is all… your… fault!”
Aragorn hit upon a new approach. Perhaps an inappropriate song might succeed where his impassioned plea had failed. He snapped his fingers. Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin appeared, armed with drums, guitars and keyboard. Faramir appeared also, toting the Horn of Gondor.
“ What the –” Faramir looked around in confusion. “ What happened to Osgiliath?” He looked at the Horn of Gondor. “ And what am I doing with this?! Boromir will kill me! He made me swear I would stay out of his chamber!”
“ Blimey, not another songfic,” Sam muttered. “ I was right in the middle of baking a cake. Now it’ll burn.”
“ Oh boo hoo,” Merry grumbled. “ *We* were right in the middle of a drinking contest.”
“ I was winning,” Pippin hiccupped.
“ I wish this instrument had never come to me,” Frodo said tearfully, stroking the completely impossible Casio Professional VZ-1 in front of him.
“ Cheer up, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said, putting his drumsticks down and patting his best friend/secret crush on the shoulder. “ Maybe the lyrics won’t be too mangled this time.”
Frodo directed a watery smile at the other hobbit.
“ Whatever would I do without you, Sam?”
Pippin swayed slightly and held onto the microphone stand.
“ I think I’m gonna be sick…”
“ Gentlemen!” Aragorn snapped his fingers impatiently. Sheet music appeared in front of each member of the ‘band’. Frodo gave Sam a last, lingering look, then began to play the intro.
You got to give me some time
I got to give myself one more chance
To be the man that I know I am
To be the king that I know I am
Don’t you play the screaming harpy
You got to give me your love
You got to give me your love
You got to give me your…”
Aragorn dropped to his knees.
“ Shamoe, shamoe,
Where is your love, you got to give me your…”
He started to shimmy back and forth.
“ This’ll be the last time
I ever do your hair…”
“ ADA!” Arwen bawled. “ ARAGORN TOUCHED MY BREASTS!”
Aragorn looked around and saw an enraged Lord Elrond tearing out of the house, brandishing an enormous sword. With no other option, he fled.
“ Ho, Aragorn!”
Isildur’s heir was watching for pursuers and so didn’t see the Elf until he crashed into him.
“ Aye,” Elladan replied, picking himself up. He grinned. “ Is Adar chasing you with the sword again?”
“ Indeed,” Aragorn said with a sigh. “ I have a favour to ask of you both. Could you look after Sylvia and Sylvester for a time? Legolas is expecting again.”
“ Congratulations!” Elrohir exclaimed. Aragorn shook his head.
“ Nay, I am not the father,” he replied. “ ’Twould take too long to explain.” He glanced back towards Imladris. “ May we walk and talk? I fear Lord Elrond draws ever closer.”
“ Certainly,” Elladan answered. “ We shall escort you out of Rivendell, as good sons and brothers should.” He chuckled.
“ So, can you look after Sylvia and Sylvester?” Aragorn repeated.
“ Ordinarily, we would,” Elrohir answered, “ but Erestor is due any day now, and we mean to be with him at the birth.”
“ Oh! Congratulations,” Aragorn remarked. He looked from one twin to the other. “ Which of you is –”
The twins looked at each other and shrugged.
“ Well, we’ve always shared everything,” Elladan offered with a grin.
“ Indeed,” Aragorn replied, plastering on a fake smile and suppressing several shudders. “ I understand. Know ye where I can find Glorfindel?”
“ Right behind you, Estel,” Glorfindel called. Aragorn turned and greeted the Elf.
“ Is it possible for you to look after Gloria for a time?” he asked.
“ Possible?” Glorfindel repeated. “ ’Twould be a pleasure! I shall come and fetch her at once.”
“ Thank you,” Aragorn said gratefully as they mounted their horses. “ I have found it remarkably difficult to find babysitters for our tribe of little ones.”
“ Send them to Thranduil,” Glorfindel suggested. “ He dotes on them, does he not? I heard he has nicknamed them after all the precious jewels to be found in Ennor.”
Aragorn stroked his beard thoughtfully. “ Yes, Thranduil does adore his grandchildren. If he were willing to look after them, it would solve all our problems.”
“ If you intend to send the children to Mirkwood, I shall escort them thence,” Glorfindel offered.
“ Wonderful!” Aragorn replied. He frowned. “ But do you not have duties here in Rivendell?”
“ Oh come now, Aragorn,” Glorfindel admonished teasingly, “ if we are to apply the rules of canon, we shall have to throw this whole story out.”
Chuckling, the pair left Rivendell and crossed into Gondor.
“ The phone rings
In the middle of the night my
Adar says whatcha gonna do with your life
Oh Ada dear you know you’re still number one
But Elves they wanna have fu-un,
Oh Elves just wanna have…”
Haldir trailed off and looked at Legolas. “ Normally my singing cheers you up, petal. What is wrong?”
“ I cannot find my sword,” Legolas grumbled, hunting under the sofa cushions. He tried to bend down but found he could not. “ Gloria! Gloria, help Ada. Look under the couch and see if my sword is there.”
Haldir shrugged and went back to knitting.
“ You look exhausted,” he remarked to Legolas. He patted his knee. “ Come, rest here for a time.”
Legolas lay down on the couch with his head in Haldir’s lap. Gimli entered the room, saw the Elves on the couch, turned around and walked back out.
“ What is that?” Legolas asked.
“ I would think you would recognise it by now,” he murmured with a wink.
“ No,” Legolas said with a grin, “ that.” He tugged gently at the bottom of Haldir’s knitting.
“ Here.” Haldir swiftly finished the row and handed the knitting to Legolas.
“ Oh, Hal,” Legolas remarked. It was a small green woollen shirt with a white leaf on it. “ It’s lovely.”
“ I hope it fits,” Haldir replied. Legolas carefully draped the shirt over his bump and assumed a thoughtful expression. Haldir chuckled. “ Here, let me finish.”
“ Ada…” Gloria crawled out from under the couch, dust and fluff in her golden hair. “ All I could find was this rusty, dull –”
“ That’s the one,” Legolas declared. He sat up slightly and took the blunt blade from her. “ Pass me that cloth.”
The door opened and Aragorn came in.
“ Look who’s here…” He stood aside and permitted Glorfindel to enter.
“ Ada Fin!” Gloria raced towards him. Glorfindel caught her and swung her up in the air. Boromir collapsed gratefully into an armchair as the rest of the children gathered around the visitor.
“ Uncle Fin, Uncle Fin, tell us about the Balrog again!”
“ Which one?” Glorfindel chuckled.
“ Haldir, Boromir,” Aragorn said, “ if you are agreeable, Glorfindel suggested that you and he bring the children to Mirkwood, where they can stay with Thranduil while we are away.”
Boromir nodded. “ I am agreeable.”
“ As am I,” Haldir added. “ But how did you get all the way to Mirkwood and back to ask King Thranduil if he could take the children, in this short time?”
“ We spoke with him through a convenient plothole,” Aragorn replied. “ ’Tis all arranged.”
“ What say you, Legolas?” Boromir asked.
Legolas managed to cut the cloth in two with much sawing of his rusty sword, and began to laugh in a most sinister fashion. The others leaned away apprehensively. Aragorn turned to Legolas’s offspring, who were taking turns playing horsie with Glorfindel.
“ Children!” Aragorn exclaimed brightly. “ Who would like to go and stay with Grandpa Thranduil for a few weeks?”
There were groans all round.
“ He gets drunk and beats us,” Estelle replied.
Aragorn directed a stern look at his eleven-year-old daughter.
“ What have I told you about believing everything teenage fangirls write?” he asked. “ Anyway, you have no choice.”
Estelle looked at her shoes and muttered something that sounded like, “ Yeah, well, he’s a stingy old fucker.”
“ Worry not, little ones,” Glorfindel declared, ruffling his daughter Gloria’s hair. “ Haldir, Boromir and I shall make sure you reach Mirkwood safely.”
Haldir sighed as he held Little Galadriel in one arm and Arathorn II in the other.
“ This is making me all broody,” he remarked. He threw Glorfindel a longing look. “ I want another baby!”
Glorfindel nervously fingered his collar.
“ That nancy Elvish king better not shave Balina’s beard off again,” Gimli grumbled.
“ Yes…” Aragorn Junior agreed innocently. “ *Grandpa* did that…”
In no time at all, the children were kitted out with warm cloaks, fresh underwear and supplies to last them until they reached Mirkwood. Gimli waved them off while Aragorn helped Legolas onto Bill the pony (on loan from Sam).
“ Come along then!” Gandalf shouted cheerily. “ Not far to Rohan! Why, I could walk there on my head!” He did a handstand and the others cried out in disgust as his robes fell down around his wrists. Shielding his eyes, Aragorn took hold of Bill’s bridle and led him past the wizard.
And so the quintet began the long journey to Rohan…
“ What’s the story in Eriadory, WOULDN’T YOU LIKE TO KNOW! *Atchoo!*”
“ Why did the sky just turn yellow?”
“ Now it’s blue again! What kind of devilry is this?”
“ Aragorn, stop here. I have to go.”
“ Again? We stopped two hours ago!”
“ I’m not doing this on purpose, you know! My baby’s pressing down on my bladder!”
“ Oh sure, by all means, hang those extra bags on my saddle. What do they think I am, a beast of burden?… Oh, right.”
“ *Insane giggling*”
“ Gimli, are you eating my lip balm and toothpaste sandwiches?!”
“ Is that what they are?! *spitting* Oh, no wonder they tasted so foul! Why on earth would you bring sandwiches like that?”
“ Because when you’re pregnant, you crave all kinds of ridiculous food, that’s why. Except what no-one seems to realise is that a craving for non-food things such as coal means there’s something seriously wrong with you!”
“ I could have been some little girl’s pony. I could be trotting around with a princess on my back, and then be put out to stud when she grew too big for me. But nooo!”
“ Aragorn, must we travel over this rough terrain? All this jogging about is making me want to go again!”
“ Use the bottle, will you? I am not spending the entire journey hauling you on and off this pony!”
“ I will NOT use a bottle! Get me down now, or I shall scream!”
“ I’ll join in, if he doesn’t get you off me. It’s about the only rest I get.”
“ Oh man… I’m so high… I’m the worst character ever…”
Meanwhile, in the kingdom of Rohan, Théoden, King was with his blacksmith, Athalstan.
“ Shoe the horse…” Théoden paused and closed his eyes in irritation as Éowyn ran past, hitting Éomer with a stick. “ Shoe the horse, shoe the mare, but leave the filly foal bare.” He patted Snowmane on the flank. “ And shoe this horse of mine.”
“ Yes sire, I shall,” Athalstan replied. He called to his eldest sons. “ Athalred, Athalmund! Fetch Athalthain, Athalhelm and Athalmer. We have much work to do.”
“ Yes, father,” Athalred answered.
“ And tell Athalwyn and Athalhild to hurry with the firewood!”
Théodred sat in the throne room dealing with the Avatari, mysterious creatures that seemed to plague the kingdom on a daily basis.
“ I am Tereraen,” announced a ridiculously well-endowed woman with long, copper locks, “daughter of Denethor, Steward of Gondor, bethrothed to you these long years…”
“ Denethor has no daughter,” Théodred said shortly. “ Begone.”
Tereraen pouted and stomped off. A dark-haired woman approached the throne.
“ Brother dearest!” she declared. Théodred gave a small sigh of impatience. “ ’Tis I, your older sister Elfwyn, bethrothed to Boromir –”
“ You are too young to be my older sister,” Théodred interrupted. “ Next!”
Elfwyn was shoved aside by a young, six-foot-tall, blonde woman.
“ O brother, I have searched high and low for my kin these past long years!” she cried melodiously. “ I am Goldenhild, your long-lost younger sister. Twenty-one years ago, our father the king dallied with a peasant girl in the Westfold, tho’ she did not know him; and now –”
“ I think not,” Théodred said, cutting her off.
Goldenhild’s eyes widened. “ Then it ’twas YOU who dallied with my mother and –”
“ No,” Théodred said firmly. “ And ‘ ’twas’ means ‘it was’. So you said, ‘it it was’. Re-read the books a few times and try again.” He waved her away.
A dark-haired, bearded, wild-looking man stepped forward.
“ Théodred, do you not recognise me?” he asked. “ ’Tis I, Kenelm the Wolf-Whisperer, nursed with you as an infant, your adopted brother –”
“ I have an adopted brother,” Théodred snapped. “ His name is Éomer. Go away.”
“ I am your twin sister, separated from you at birth –”
“ I am an only child!” Théodred bellowed before the next of the Avatari could continue her ridiculous exposition. “ All of you, leave the kingdom at once. You have no place here.” He slumped back in the throne as the collection of ‘original’ characters traipsed out. “ Where is that fucking old man? *Talking*, that’s where! ‘I’m just taking the horse to the blacksmith, won’t be long!’ Not bloody likely…”
The doors of the Golden Hall swung open. Théodred rubbed his eyes and steeled himself for more Avatari, or maybe rabid fangirls, but instead Éomer entered.
“ Where is Uncle?” Éomer called. “ We have visitors.”
Théoden stabled his horse and made his way up to Meduseld. There he met Éowyn at the entrance to the Golden Hall.
“ What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, staring in shock at her white, body-hugging gown.
“ Aragorn,” Éowyn sighed. “ Gorgeous, gorgeous Aragorn…”
“ Aragorn prefers the company of Elves, Éowyn,” Théoden reminded her. “ Male Elves!”
“ I can cure him!” Éowyn cried. She splashed a jug of water on her bosom. “ Aragorn! Aragorn, over here!”
Théoden let out a strangled scream, wrapped his cloak around her and hustled her inside.
“ You are so contrary, Uncle,” Éowyn grumbled. “ You are forever saying that you want me to behave in a more womanly fashion.” She tossed Théoden’s cloak to the ground and cupped her bosom. “ You can’t GET more womanly than these!”
Théoden looked away, grimacing. “ Éowyn, please!”
Éowyn rolled her eyes, slumped against the wall and folded her arms, muttering something that may well have been, “ Like father, like son.”
Théodred rose from the throne. “ Éomer says we have guests, Father.”
“ Indeed,” Théoden replied, glancing back at Éowyn. “ Aragorn of Gondor…”
“ …Legolas of Mirkwood,” Éomer continued, “ Gimli son of Glóin, and Gandalf the Chode Smoker.”
“ Éomer, that is a baseless rumour!” Théoden admonished sternly.
The doors of Meduseld crashed open and Gandalf skipped inside.
“ I’m Dum-ble-dooore!” he sang, making little flapping movements with his hands. “ I’m Dum-ble… doooooore!” He skipped around the king. “ I’m Dumbledore I’m Dumbledore I’m Dumbledore, I’m Dumbledore I’m Dumbledore I’m Dumbledore, I’M DUMBLEDOOORE, I’M DUMBLEDOOORE, I’M DUMBLEDO-O-OOOORE!!!”
Éomer arched an eyebrow at his uncle.
“ Steps! Why are there steps? They shall pay dearly for the steps…” Huffing and puffing, Legolas entered the hall with Aragorn at his side, and Gimli following after.
On sighting Legolas, Théoden called to his guards.
“ Fetch some more chairs! Let this Elf sit down.”
Éowyn straightened up and thrust her bosom in Aragorn’s direction, but he barely glanced at her as he shepherded Legolas to a chair.
“ What is it that brings you all to Edoras?” Théoden asked.
Legolas fixed Théodred and Éomer with a steely glare.
“ One of you sired the child within my womb,” he snarled.
“ Womb?” Éomer and Théodred asked together.
“ Yes, womb!” King Thranduil repeated, sticking his head around the door. “ Male Silvan Elves have wombs. Sylvan Elves! Sylvan.” He disappeared again. “Yes, money, I’m coming…”
“ Isn’t he supposed to be…” Gimli thought about it for a moment, then gave up, feeling a headache approaching.
A look of rapture came over Théoden’s face.
“ You mean Théodred may soon be a father?” he asked. “ All this time I had given up hope of grandchildren, owing to Théodred’s condition…”
“ For the final time, father,” Théodred snapped, “ I am not gay!”
“ Théodred!” Théoden replied. He counted off the evidence on his fingers. “ You are forty years old, you are unmarried, and you still dwell in the house of your father. What am I supposed to think?”
“ Perhaps I am waiting for you to hurry up and die so I may claim the throne!” Théodred retorted.
Father and son glared at each other, then burst out laughing.
“ Oh, father,” Théodred guffawed, punching Théoden in the arm, “ you’ll bury me yet!”
“ Really?” Legolas asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. “ I don’t care! Fancy that.” He pointed at his bulging belly. “ One of you did this to me! Now which one?”
“ When did this happen?” Éomer asked.
“ Oh, about nine weeks ago,” Legolas snapped, “ thank you very much, Almighty Plot Device!”
“ Calm down, Legolas,” Aragorn soothed in Sindarin, massaging the Elf’s shoulders. “ The stress is not good for the baby.”
“ There was a party,” Gimli said quickly, trying not to notice Aragorn cuddling Legolas. “ Does that ring any bells?”
“ Yes,” Théoden replied. “ The Stallions beat the Sycamores at murderball yet again. We threw a party to celebrate.”
Aragorn stared at Legolas in shock.
“ You attended *their* victory party?!” he cried. “ How could you?”
“ Well I think I’ve been amply punished, don’t you?” Legolas shot back.
“ Come, come,” Théoden declared, putting his arms around his son and nephew. “ Which am I to be; grandfather or granduncle?”
“ Ah…” Théodred shifted uncomfortably. “ Neither.”
At Théoden’s puzzled look, Éomer explained.
“ Before the festivities began,” he said, running a nervous hand through his hair, “ I went to your – that is, I *found* some naughty parchments, and…”
“ And, noticing that Éomer was absent, I went to find him,” Théodred went on.
“ And we viewed the parchments together…”
“ And, um, grew excited, and –” Théodred rubbed the back of his neck. “ – and we, we passedapleasurableeveningineachother’scompany.”
There was a stunned silence.
“ WHAT?!” Théoden bellowed.
Éomer and Théodred fidgeted guiltily.
“ You are KIN!”
Both men shrugged and looked at the floor.
“ I shall have you both gelded,” Théoden said in disgust.
Éowyn rolled her eyes and counted down from three.
“ Well, if the child is indeed of the House of Eorl,” Théoden declared, “ and Théodred is not the father, and Éomer is not the father, then that – means…”
Legolas let out a scream.
“ Ohhhh, fuck,” Gimli declared.
Théodred folded his arms.
“ Who shall have whom gelded?”
Scarlet, Théoden rounded on his son.
“ Don’t try me!” he spluttered. “ You are not too big to feel the back of my hand!”
“ Oh, Legolas,” Aragorn said in mock disappointment. “ I would never have thought that you liked old men.”
Gandalf went into peals of laughter.
“ Actually, by Elvish standards,” he cackled, “ Legolas is quite the cradle-snatcher!”
“ Oh, shut up, you worthless stoner!” Legolas bawled. “ Where is my sword?” He glared at Théoden. “ My dull, rusty sword…”
“ You blame me for this?” Théoden asked, instinctively protecting Rohan’s crown jewels. “ I took you for a maiden!”
Aragorn and Gimli fixed the king with a disbelieving stare.
“ He wore a gown!” Théoden accused.
Legolas was much affronted.
“ It was an Elvish robe!”
“ It had SEQUINS!”
Legolas was about to reply, but instead gave a cry as a familiar pain ripped through his belly.
“ The baby’s coming!”
“ All right, everyone out!” Gandalf ordered, herding the others towards the door. “ No-one wants to see this bit, or write a description of it; it’s disgusting.” He nudged Théoden with his elbow. “Pray that this one doesn’t die in childbirth, eh?”
“ WHAT?!” Legolas shouted.
“ Bang goes our inheritance,” Éomer muttered as the door slammed behind them.
“ And I expect *I* shall have to take care of the baby,” Éowyn grumbled.
“ I have looked after infants before!” Théoden replied hotly. “ When Théodred was a baby, I was all but his sole carer.” He wiped away a tear of nostalgia. “ I did everything for him. Had I been able, I would have nursed him myself.”
As his cousins yowled in disgust, Théodred drifted away into a flashback…
//He was staring at a pair of leather boots, far away on the grass.
“ Sire…” The voice came from above his feet. “ Sire… the – the baby…”
The whole world turned and Théodred found himself right way up with his father’s arm secure around his middle. A big thing, swathed in a brown robe, hove into view.
“ Ah, Denethor. May I present my son, Théodred, Prince. Catch.”
The next moment he was flying through the air. A clammy hand closed around his ankle.
“ Hello, little one.”
Théodred was faced with the most hideous visage he had ever seen. The terrified little boy squirmed in fright. Suddenly he was falling, and just as suddenly he was safe in his father’s arms once more.
“ You did that on purpose!”
There was a crunch from somewhere above him and something warm and sticky splattered across his scalp.
“ Sire, the baby!”
“ Oh. Here.”
Théodred was tossed through the air again and came to rest in the arms of the king’s bodyguard. He stared at his father beating the living daylights out of Denethor for a few moments, then stuck his thumb in his mouth and closed his eyes…//
The wail of a newborn babe rent the air. Théodred took his thumb out of his mouth as the others straightened up. The door flew open and Gandalf peered out.
“ ’Tis a girl, your Majesty!” he cried excitedly. “ A girl with a winkle!”
“ Then it is a boy?” Théoden asked.
“ Yes!” Gandalf replied, grinning manically. “ A girl with a winkle. Except it has no winkle!”
“ Then ’tis a girl,” Théoden said impatiently.
“ YES!” Gandalf skipped merrily away.
Éomer caught his uncle’s eye and mimed smoking a pipe.
The group entered the room. Legolas lay exhausted on two chairs and a bench, covered with a cloak. He held a small bundle in his arms. The others crowded around him.
“ She looks much like you, father,” Théodred teased. “ Blonde and cranky.”
Théoden affectionately cuffed his son around the ear.
“ Let me hold her,” Éomer begged, reasoning that he would probably end up Prince Regent at any rate, and could then retire to an estate in the Westfold as soon as his new cousin came of age.
“ Who would like a cup of tea?” Gandalf asked, thrusting a flagon with a fish sticking out of it under Théodred’s nose.
“ What shall you name her?” Aragorn asked.
“ Théodwyn,” Théoden replied at once.
“ Is that so?” Legolas asked indignantly. “ And are you to raise the child yourself, that you give me no say in the matter?”
“ Of course I shall raise the child,” Théoden answered.
Legolas was stunned.
Théoden nodded. “ Yes, if you have no objections.”
“ I think I love you,” Legolas said seriously.
“ Why not call her Legolass, with two ‘S’s?” Éomer suggested.
“ No, ’twould only lead to confusion between her and Leggy Junior,” Aragorn replied.
“ Name her after me!” Thranduil called, emerging from behind a tapestry. “ Thrandwyn has quite a ring to it.”
“ Stop doing that!” Gimli shouted, hopping up and down.
“ How about BITCH?” Gandalf giggled. “ ‘Hey Bitch! Time for supper, Bitch! Bedtime, Bitch!’” He stumbled away, drinking fish tea out of his hat. “ Ooh! How about Cu-”
“ Legodwyn,” Théodred suggested.
Legolas considered. “ Yes, I like it. What say you, sire?”
“ A fine name,” Théoden agreed. He took his daughter from Legolas. “ You are sure you have no objections to the child remaining here?”
“ Very sure,” Legolas replied. “ But I shall visit often.”
Éomer frowned; something puzzled him.
“ But how is the child to be nurs-”
“ Don’t ask! Don’t ask!” Gimli bellowed hysterically.
Théoden pulled up a chair and sat next to Legolas’s makeshift bed, rocking Legodwyn gently in his arms.
“ You are welcome to stay until you are fit enough to travel,” he told the Elf.
“ Thank you,” Legolas sighed wearily.
Théoden tickled his daughter’s tummy, then looked around. “ Wait. Where is Éowyn?”
A young man clad in armour, his helmet obscuring much of his face, entered the room and made his way towards Aragorn.
“ Hail, Lord Aragorn!” the young man declared in a reedy voice. “ I am Dernhelm, a soldier in Un- the king’s service.” He pressed a hand to his forehead. “ Oh, I feel dizzy…”
Dernhelm half-turned and leaned over, treating Aragorn to a wonderful view of his shapely behind. Aragorn swallowed and struggled to keep his breeches from turning into a pop-tent.
Gimli shut his eyes, pressed his hands over his ears and did a little dance.
“ Someone’s in the quarry with Ragnar,
Someone’s in the quarry I kno-o-o-ow,
Someone’s in the quarry with Ragnar
Playing the old banjo, they’re playing
Fee, fi, fiddly-i-o,
Fee fi fiddly-i-o-o-o-oh,
Fee, fi, fiddly-i-ohhh…
Strummin’ on the old banjo!”
“ Ah, shit! We forgot the angst!”
“ Maybe Legolas could worry about Théoden wanting to raise the child in Rohan, ignorant of her Elvish heritage!”
“ Oh yes, I am *so* upset about having one less child to look after!”
“ What if Éomer and Éowyn grew jealous of their wee cousin and plotted to do her in?”
“ Well, it’s nonsensical and out of character…”
“ Exactly! Ooh, or what if Théoden merely *thought* they were plotting against her, and he had them banished –”
“ They did the banishing thing in the movie.”
“ Aye, aye… Oh! What if Grima Wormtongue became Legodwyn’s new nanny?”
“ Hit him, someone!”
Aragorn Junior (by Aragorn; age 14)
Legolas Junior (by Aragorn; age 13)
Good Arwen (by Elrond; age 12)
Estelle (by Aragorn; age 11)
Gloria (by Glorfindel; age 10)
Elrond Junior (by Elrond; age 9)
Balina (by Gimli; age 8)
Elysia (by Aragorn; age 7)
Sylvia (by Elladan; age 6)
Haldina (out of Haldir; age 5)
Sylvester (by Elrohir; age 4)
Arathorn II (by Aragorn; age 3)
Little Galadriel (by Galadriel; age 2)
Baby Boz (by Boromir; age 1)
…and Legodwyn (by Théoden; newborn)
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.