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

12. Growing

A few more weeks pass and much to my utter relief, things seem to have resolved. There have been no more signs of problems within the pregnancy and my once petite bump is now ballooning to epic proportions. Well... alright, that is a slight exaggeration, but I am proud of its nice rounded size. I quite like showing it off in dresses that fit neatly around it, though I assume in later months I shan't have this luxury. In fact if this rate of growing keeps up, a sack is all that will fit me. The pregnancy was announced too, not long after Gilron and I had our little chat. Although I have not been out and about, because the healers still want me to take things slow, but I do work from home.

Ferel has been put in charge of my care, and she visits daily, to check on mine and the infant's health. I have become so attached to her in the past few weeks, her kind and quiet aura was just the sort of salve I needed to help build my wavering confidence again. She would gently encourage me to go for walks in our private gardens, or play puzzles and read books with Legolas, anything to distract me. We have built up such a lovely friendship, helped entirely because of her fresh knowledge of being a new mother. I look up to her and I listen to her, and because of this mutual understanding, Oropher has also requested that she be promoted to my lady in waiting, to help assist me in preparing for the arrival of his grandchild. A role that she took, but only because I insisted that Tauriel stay with her at all times, which is good practice for me, watching how she interacts and cares for her young and boisterous daughter.

So with Ferel's involvement, I have been able to keep a keen ear on the comings and goings of the healing halls. So even from my chambers I can have my say and ensure everything is running smoothly. I even hold council meetings on the matter, from one of the King's private studies of course, but it no less official. It feels good to be using my mind again, and because of this I think it has fueled my determination to ensure everything bodes well for me and the baby. And of course Ferel is always nearby to tell me I am doing too much and shooing everyone out so I can rest.

So today, I sit perched on my armchair in the grand living space, working on some stitching, as I have a contemplative quiet moment, giving thanks for how far we've come, baby and I. I internally muse over silly things, like what they will look like when they are born? I worry over silly things like baby proofing our rooms, and how that will actually be achieved in a somewhat medieval culture. In fact I am so caught up in my wonderings, that I don't initially hear the external doors open, until a clatter of noise that I discern as footsteps reach my ears.

I have become quite good at telling the different footsteps apart and I am quite certain the swift clack of well shod feet on wooden floor belongs to Oliel. Her steps are always so brisk and almost dance-like. But there are other footsteps, and I frown when I consider their owners. One set is slightly heavier with the unmistakable soft thud of a leather boot, possibly belonging to a guard...Aradan perhaps? Another set that I know as my husband's; strides that are long and almost silent, if he was barefoot you would never hear his approach. What could this mean?

The doors open into the concealed living area and I am greeted with the ever enthusiastic face of my dearest Ollie. I beam back at her naturally and outstretch my arms as she scurries towards me for a warm embrace. I peer over her shoulder and see Aradan smile fondly at the exchange, whilst Thranduil nods a greeting before sauntering off and leaving us to it.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" I say with a suspicious look in Aradan's direction.

"Nothing," Ollie cheeps a little too shrilly and plonks herself down on the arm of the chair to casually rub my protruding bump. "So how long to go now?" she asks, obviously throwing me off the scent.

"Oh, still awhile yet," I pout as I stretch uncomfortably and pat my belly, "Well, I must be at least six months now so still another six to go."

"Six months?" Aradan balks and drops down on a free settee, "Is that all? It feels like you have been pregnant forever!"