A/N: Sorry about the long wait, life kinda caught us on a short leash between jobs, school and homework. But, here's chapter 42. It's short but it was a pain to write and we decided to just give y'all what we have and go from there.

Now…onward…

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Chapter 42

TA 3019 April 3

Minas Tirith – House of Healing

The news that Boromir had collapsed spread quickly. Aragorn and Legolas, having escaped the throne room with Thranduil's 'help' were the first to hear and quickly sent the guard who'd brought them the news off to find Farothen. At odds or not, this was no time to let a disagreement of any degree affect how they reacted. One of their own was ill, that was more important than personal feelings.

As king and prince approached the room they'd been directed to upon reaching the House of Healing they could clearly hear Boromir arguing with the healer. Judging by the tone and volume he wasn't happy with being confined to the Houses. Nor, apparently did he agree with whatever the healers had told him.

"You can't make me stay…Get away from me!"

There was a pause in which the low incoherent mumble of the healer responded preceding a clear snort from Boromir, "It was the heat and I was training the hobbits. Plural, mind you, there were four."

Another low response and Boromir growled, "If you come near me I'll break something."

Aragorn gave a quiet chuckle and turned to Legolas, "He always was a bad patient. Even at two…"

He cut off abruptly when Boromir suddenly roared, "I am not pregnant!"

Both elf and man froze mid-step in time to hear a small gasp from behind them as Farothen came around a corner, "Did he…was that…did I hear right?"

Aragorn faced his son, blinking as he considered the ramifications if Boromir actually was…

Legolas gave a little laugh as he put an arm around Aragorn's shoulders and put on a sympathetic little pout, "Poor, poor Estel. You now have to deal with three…"

A small whimper escaped the king as he seriously considered locking himself in his study for the next year or so. That aught to be good. By then all three babies would be born and at least…He quickly did the math in his head.

Three to four months old at least…the age where they start to become fun to play with. He could live with that.

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Gandalf remained on the far side of the room, out of the healer's way and only skimming the edges of Boromir's awareness since his return to consciousness. He absently chewed on the mouth piece of his unlit pipe as he watched the drama in the healing room unfold.

It was clearly a stand-off. Boromir sat on the bed, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in a scowl, a dangerous pout on his lips. The healer stood across the room regarding his patient, not quite daring enough to approach. This was a man who could snap a grown man's arm with one hand tied behind his back, a warrior through and through, Gondor's finest. Even pregnant.

"I'm not pregnant." Boromir repeated, as if he'd read the healer's mind, "I refuse to be."

"My lord," the healer sighed, ignoring the quiet chuckle from the wizard in the corner, "Whether you refuse or not, deny it until you turn blue, you are…"

A low growl escaped Boromir, clearly meaning, 'Don't finish that thought'. Throwing up his hands the healer sighed. He was through arguing with this stubborn steward. Nature would have her way and Boromir would simply have to accept his state eventually.

"Perhaps I can be of some help," a voice suddenly said from the doorway, making all three occupants of the room look over.

The healer sighed, quickly bowing, "My king."

Aragorn barely acknowledged the fealty as he waved the healer away and met Boromir's scowl, "Must you be such a pain?"

Boromir had the grace to look a bit sheepish before he grumbled, "I don't like, or trust, healers."

"Yes, I know." Aragorn sighed, "Would you consent to me checking you over then?"

The scowl became a pout as Boromir considered then he nodded, "I guess. Where is…"

He fell silent, as if remembering the fight the week before and the reason for it. Aragorn, understanding the unfinished question, nodded toward the door, "Farothen is out in the hall with Legolas…recovering from the shock."

The scowl returned and Boromir grumbled, "I'm not pregnant. I can't be. Both of us…it's too…bizarre."

Chuckling Aragorn shook his head, "If you are, you are. We shall simply have to deal with it." He paused a beat before adding, "Look at it this way, so long as you carry my grandchild…I can't kill you."

A moment passed as Boromir considered his answer before he stubbornly muttered, "I'm not pregnant."

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The four members of the royal family of Gondor gathered inside Boromir's healing room, trying to come to terms with the latest revelation. While Boromir continued to deny it, though his denial's held less and less strength as time passed, Farothen looked shell-shocked, Legolas seemed almost pleased in a giddy way. Aragorn spun on Gandalf, who still stood in the far corner.

"What is going on, Wizard! First Legolas, then Faramir and Farothen…now Boromir. Why is everyone having babies?"

Aragorn turned to glare at Legolas, "I better not be next!"

Legolas merely cocked a brow silently as Gandalf cleared his throat and replied, straight-faced, "The Valar are showing their collective sense of humor."

A moment passed as Aragorn turned his glare back on the Maia, who promptly continued, "In any case, Legolas and Boromir's pregnancies are somewhat expected. Legolas is well over his majority. As is Boromir since the age of majority in Numenor was 40. Faramir and Farothen are a bit of a surprise though, since both of them are under 40…"

"I asked why it was happening," Aragorn interrupted, "Not for a history lesson."

"Oh," Gandalf started, chewing absently on the end of his unlit pipe, "Well, in that case…I am unsure."

There was a stretch of silence as the four royals regarded the wizard with a mix of desperation and annoyance. Gandalf chewed thoughtfully on his pipe, seeming unaware of their unspoken inquiry.

A growled sigh broke the silence as Boromir crossed his arms and gave a broody pout, "I'm not pregnant."

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Edoras

Faramir stopped his horse and looked at Edoras, looming in the near distance. He'd seen it before of course, when he was young and sent to learn how to ride, as had Boromir. Then, of course, there had been the times he'd managed to sneak away from Ithilien the last few years to see Eomer.

Yet, for the first time since arriving at dusk two days earlier he really looked at the city and the Golden Hall. It was his home now. No longer was he just a visiting lord of Gondor. He was Rohan's Prince.

Or rather, queen.

That thought had the corner of Faramir's mouth quirking a bit in amusement at how fitting the term really was. He was wed to Rohan's king and carrying the heir to Rohan's throne. If that didn't make him a queen, what did?

But that aside, he no longer had to sneak around when he wished to spend time with his lover. They were wed and he had the run of Edoras. Best of all, they no longer had to hide their relationship.

Reining his mare to a stop beside his husband Eomer cocked a brow at the older man's small smile, "What are you thinking, Mir?"

Meeting the dark gaze studying him Faramir's grin widened, "Just that I no longer have to sneak my way into your bed. Everyone expects me to be there so…"

Eomer cocked a brow as Faramir tapered off meaningfully, "Everyone expected you to be there anyway. Apparently we weren't as secretive as we'd thought. It seems everyone in Rohan and Gondor knew anyway…according to your brother."

"Yes, well, Boromir never could keep a secret." Faramir sighed, ruefully, "Neither could Gamling."

"Hmm." Eomer agreed thoughtfully, "So why did we ever tell them?"

"We didn't." Faramir reminded, "We forgot to lock your door and they and Theodred…caught us."

"Right." Eomer nodded, "More than once."

A moment of silence passed as Faramir regarded his husband, "We're not really expected back from our ride for a while yet, and we've managed to ditch our guard…"

Eomer grinned, catching Faramir's meaning errorlessly, "I know the perfect place where we won't be interrupted."

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Minas Tirith

Celeborn silently approached Thranduil at the far point of the ship's keel. The younger Sindar didn't even glance over as the Lord of Lorien stopped beside him and there was a stretch of time where neither spoke, not sure how to begin but both aware of what was coming.

Finally Celeborn sighed, "Galadriel and Elrond are furious with your silence. They want answers."

Thranduil met the elder elf's gaze, "I'm sure they do."

Shaking his head Celeborn gave a low growl, "They deserve to know the truth after your not-so-intelligent, hot-headed comment."

"Aye." Thranduil said, spinning to face Celeborn, "And my son deserved to grow up with a mother to love him! I must first tell him the truth before I tell them."

Turning back to once again look out over the Pelennor Thranduil heaved a sigh, "But how do I tell Legolas his mother never loved him enough to stay? Never loved me enough?"

"Celebrian…"

"Never loved me as she loved…him," Thranduil interrupted, "Or she would have told Galadriel about us and stayed with me. Instead she kept me and her son a secret and did Galadriel's bidding by marrying the Peredhil."

Celeborn remained silent, not knowing what to say because Thranduil was right. Celebrian obviously hadn't loved Thranduil enough to stay with him. Beyond that, it had always been a point of contention between Celeborn and his daughter that she'd so easily walked away from her son and never mentioned him again. The only reason Celeborn knew about Legolas was because Thranduil had sent a message to Celeborn, for his eyes only, informing him of the child Celebrian had left behind when she'd chosen to wed Elrond.

"I asked her to marry me, you know, a few years after Greenleaf was born." Thranduil murmured after a long silence, "She told me she wasn't ready to wed. Within a year she was walking away for the last time, intending to wed another, leaving our son in my arms and not looking back."

Before Celeborn could come up with a suitable response, since there really wasn't one, Thranduil looked passed the elder elf and put a smile on his face, "Ah, Boromir! Good to see you up and about again. How is the little one?"

"Fara?" Boromir asked, purposely misunderstanding, "Well, I've not heard from him since he and Eomer took their leave but I would assume he is doing well."

Thranduil chuckled at the man's obvious evasion, "Of course, 'Fara' is doing well. And you? Have you sent word to Rohan about your…expectations?"

"He already knows about Farothen." Boromir responded, stubbornly holding onto his self-denial.

"Come, now, young Hurin," Thranduil gently chided, smiling slightly, "It pains me to see you deny my first…well, second…great grandchild."

For a moment Boromir scowled at the Woodland king, just irritable enough to not be uneasy under that piercing blue gaze. Crossing his arms he narrowed his gaze and shot the elf a moody pout, "I…am not…pregnant!"

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Edoras – April 5, morning

That lethargic state between sleep and awake, when one knows they're dreaming but simply does not wish to acknowledge it held Faramir hostage in a blissful vision of things yet to come. In his sleep he smiled, releasing a soft sigh as his dream-self regarded the little boy settled in his lap. Eomer's dark gold hair, Faramir's own clear blue eyes, and a cheeky grin that was bound to one day break hearts…male and female.

Small, starfish hands held Faramir's face as a small, button nose rubbed against his in the 'puppy kisses' Faramir vaguely remembered from when Mama was still alive…

Faramir frowned as the sound of someone clearly being ill spoiled the dream and the child looked up into his eyes with a solemn expression, 'Papa's sick again, Daddy.'

Sighing Faramir blinked his eyes open and looked over in time to see Eomer's silhouette convulse as he threw up in a washbasin. Brow wrinkled in worry Faramir sat up and slid across the bed to gather Eomer's hair in one hand to hold it away from the younger man's face as he continued to be sick. With his free hand he lightly rubbed the horselord's back and murmured comforting nonsense in an odd mix of Westron and Eomer's native Rohirric.

Slowly Eomer's stomach eased and the man slumped against Faramir, enjoying the comforting hug the older man gave him, even as he moodily grumped, "You're the one who's pregnant, Mir, why am I the one getting sick every morning?"

Wincing guiltily Faramir absently shifted his comforting massage to Eomer's uneasy stomach, "I'm sorry, Eo. I always seem to do this to people I love. Boromir claims it's not vision that is my true gift but to shuck my ills onto others. Any time I showed even the slightest sign of being ill he came down with whatever I hard worse than I did."

"Well…take it back." Eomer whined sleepily as he let Faramir's attentions lull him back to sleep.

Faramir sighed, "I wish I could, love, but I fear I never perfected that skill."

Eomer's only reply was a soft sigh as he relaxed deeper into slumber knowing he was safe in Faramir's embrace. As the younger man slept Faramir let his mind wander to Minas Tirith, wondering how things were going there.

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Minas Tirith

In the past, breakfast in Minas Tirith had always been a very sedate, stately affair. In the past Minas Tirith had not had four hobbits attending breakfast. Nor had the Citadel been host to a pregnant elf and half-elf who were both experiencing rather bizarre food cravings.

Breakfast usually consisted of bacon, eggs, some type of potato and fruit, maybe some pancakes or waffles. Given the new circumstances the customary breakfast spread included stewed tomatoes, cheddar-onion dip and mushrooms.

'Mushrooms and cheddar-onion dip,' Boromir thought with a disgusted wince, 'There's just no accounting for taste when one dines with hobbits.'

Absently loading his plate Boromir glanced to his left and noticed that Aragorn seemed to be keeping an eye on the hall door. Legolas' absence on Aragorn's right told him who the older man was waiting for.

"Are you not hungry, my liege? Surely the sight of the food can tempt you to eat something. I mean, it yields such…delightful choices such as…" Boromir gave an exaggerated shudder, "Mushrooms."

Aragorn glanced over and chuckled at the revolted look on his steward's face, "You dislike mushrooms still?"

Boromir nodded solemnly, "Until the day I die, my lord."

"I had not realized that day was coming so soon." Aragorn murmured, a small smile quirking the corner of his mouth as he glanced down at Boromir's plate.

"Something amuses you, my liege?" Boromir grumbled as he saw the smile.

Aragorn merely smiled wider, affecting a look of perfect innocence. Boromir narrowed his gaze suspiciously but returned to his breakfast as his stomach gave a low growl in reminder.

"I thought Mr. Boromir hated mushrooms." Sam muttered a couple seats away, "He certainly complained enough about them during the quest."

Aragorn laughed as Sam's words echoed around the cavernous dining hall, causing the hobbit to blush as Pippin, sitting beside Boromir, looked up at the man and nodded, "He's right. You were very clear when you claimed to hate mushrooms, though why you do I'll never know."

"I do dislike mushrooms." Boromir insisted.

"Uh-huh." Pippin nodded, "Then why are you eating them with the cheesy dip?"

"I'm no…" Boromir started, then cut off as he glanced at his fork and saw the mushroom speared on the prongs, dripping cheddar-onion dip. There was a stretch of silence as he blinked in apparent shock.

After a moment he broke the silence with a low growl, "Bloody hell! I am pregnant!"

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A/N: Before we continue onto the reviews, we'd just like to say that we know some of you may be upset that we messed with what you may see as "Tolkien's Celebrian" but we needed to make her appear as she did. There's not much written about her so we came up with our own history to explain a bit more regarding the tension between Mirkwood and the other realms (mainly Rivendell) and the reasons why Aragorn and Legolas remained apart for so many years. So, please, don't lecture us on what we've done, it's done and it's not going to change.

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Okay, to the couple questions we got that weren't in the signed reviews that we answered directly for a few of the bigger questions that weren't answered in the chapter we'll mention them here.

About making Legolas seem more helpless…after being a 'warrior' and archer for so long, taking care of himself, we just don't see him being completely helpless. He still seems like someone who would find it hard to not do things for himself and completely depend on another.

About having not read the books…don't worry about it. The movies were fairly close to them, only better because the books concentrated a lot on scenery rather than character development and thought they were good they are somewhat draggy and drawn out. Personally, both Brina and I found them a bit boring in places…and the characters are pansies compared to the movie interpretations.

Personal opinions here, not trying to offend anyone who prefers the books to the movie.