To Live Again: The Road to War {Lord of the Rings Fanfiction}|

5. Adjustment

"Surprise!"

I let out a shocked shriek and then crumple into a fit of soft laughter, when the doors of the royal living space are thrown back to reveal my welcoming committee. Which is really just Legolas, Ollie, and Oropher, which is quite amusing. He looks so out of place. Legolas presents me with several pictures and bunches of flowers which he and Ollie have spent the day piecing together. The place is also littered in buntings, homemade of course, and a selection of appetising and very unhealthy food litters the table.

Thranduil helpfully sets me down ever so gently on the ground, because he didn't trust me to walk, and thus carried me. Much to my utter embarrassment. I am pregnant not disabled! When I reminded him of this he just shrugged, in his opinion my leg is still weakened and I am in no fit state to be doing anything physical for a few days at least. I managed to strike a bargain with the healers; if they let me out I would stay in my own bed for as long as they wanted. I just refused to spend another night cooped up in unfamiliar surroundings, besides I didn't want Legolas worrying. This bargain was only agreed to as long as Thranduil strictly enforced it, which of course he had no objection to doing. I think he quite enjoys the power trip, he isn't used to me doing exactly as I am told... and he better not get too comfortable with it.

"Is this for me?" I gasp and Legolas nods energetically as he runs to my side and throws his arms around my waist. I crouch down as far as my aching leg will allow me and clutch him close to me, enjoying the warmth of the embrace.

"Grandpa said you fell and hurt your leg?" he murmurs worriedly, and blinks up at me with questioning eyes.

"Yes," I lie fluidly and smile, "Your Nana is so clumsy, isn't she?"

This does the trick and he sniggers loudly and nods in agreement, before helpfully allowing me to lean on him as he escorts me to the table stacked with food. Ollie follows and helps settle me into a chair, all the while giving me sympathetic looks and asking me if I am in any pain.

"Would you stop it?" I chide and gesture for her to sit down beside me. "My leg is a little sore, but I am perfectly okay apart from that."

"Are you sure?" she pushes and eyes me with a certain amount of disbelief. I nod and give her my best carefree smile. She arcs an eyebrow, but starts to dish out the food regardless. I want to tell her the news, I really do, I am literally having to bite my tongue to stop it all tumbling out. I have to keep quiet though, at least until I get the all clear from the healers.

I am in the very early stages of this pregnancy, and even in the elven race, these early months are considered fragile and dangerous to the young life. With the possibility of poison still in my system, I must be cautious and vigilant. With this in mind, Thranduil and I decided to postpone telling anyone until it was wise to do so. The only exception is Oropher, because by rights he should be informed of the extension of his family line. We'll tell Legolas next and then those close to us, and then I guess it will be celebrated throughout the Kingdom. In any other circumstances I think I would be shouting it from the rooftops, but as per my luck, I have to go about this the awkward way. What was I saying about my little trip to the woods being uneventful...what was I thinking?

Legolas is chattering at an alarming rate, filling me in on everything I have missed in my absence, which was regrettably not very much. He is very happy that I am home, because everything is so boring. Except, of course, when Grandpa took some time off to participate in some elaborate imaginary hunting games. Ollie and I giggle and question him on his theatrical storytelling, but I spy from the corner of my eye that Thranduil has gestured for Oropher to follow him, and I feel a tad nervous over what the King's reaction will be to the news.

"You haven't touched your food?" Ollie comments with a concerned frown, and I guiltily observe the picked at food on my plate.

"Um...I'm not feeling all that hungry," I lie. Everything seems to taste unpleasant to me, and I am resisting the urge not to gag at the sickly sweet preserves that are slathered on the array of cakes and breads. I suppose this is to be expected, so I tentatively sup on water and pick at dry bread rolls.