Mother Of The Year
Posted: October 2003
Title: Mother of the Year
Genre: FCS, mpreg humor (I hope)
Characters: Erestor and Glorfindel
Disclaimer: These are not my characters and I make no profit from their use.
Beta: Larian Elensar
Author's Note: I have been reading way too much mpreg.
Summary: Someone becomes a mommy... err daddy...hmmm mommy.
MOTHER OF THE YEAR
Glorfindel had been keeping company with Erestor for about three months. Well, keeping company is a rather polite term. Lord Elrond fondly commented that Glorfindel was buggering poor Erestor. Little did he know. But then, no one would have ever guessed that the fierce Balrog slayer was Erestor's sweet little... actually, his big blond bitch.
No one would have ever known, that is, had Glorfindel not gotten sick.
Elves do not get sick. It is a simple fact of life in elvendom. There are no sick days built into one's job. There are few medicines that are made for things other than injuries. There are no drugstores. Elves just do not get sick.
Glorfindel would have argued that point. Especially when he was bent over the toilet bowl losing his breakfast for the fourth time in as many days.
"Glor, dear, you need to see Lord Elrond." Erestor pulled back his long golden hair and bathed his green tinged face with a cold cloth. "Mayhap you had some food that had turned bad."
Glorfindel had not cried since he was a very small elfling
and his sister stole his toy pony. He looked up into the honey brown eyes
of his lover and best friend and cried like a baby. Erestor helped him up
and dressed him and hauled him to the House of Healing.
A young assistant met them at the door.
"Is Lord Elrond here?"
"No, Lord Erestor, he is not needed. We have no wounded to tend."
"Well, get him. Lord Glorfindel is sick."
The young healer's eyes got wide. He looked at Lord Glorfindel and was surprised to see how green he was. He opened the door and when Erestor turned to ask for a blanket for his friend, he was already gone. Erestor only hoped he had gone to fetch Lord Elrond.
Elrond showed up a few minutes later a bit disheveled and worse for the wear; and his shoes didn't match. It happened that the young healer had thrown open his chamber door without knocking while Elrond and one of his young advisors were consulting on some personal matters and were in a complete state of undress. In the resulting confusion, Elrond had managed to get dressed but not entirely in his own clothing.
"What is the matter? Young Benedril said that Glorfindel is dying." He did not look very happy to be there.
"Erestor made me come. I seem to have eaten some bad fish. I am sorry to have bothered you." When Glorfindel started to get up, that awful feeling came over him again and he lost the rest of his breakfast on Lord Elrond's mismatched shoes.
Elrond decided that perhaps there was something wrong with his old friend after all. He had better check this out.
Erestor was hovering so closely that every time Elrond moved, he bumped into him. He finally turned to his near panicked advisor and told him in no uncertain terms to get out of the room, to go read a scroll or braid his or someone else's hair.
As soon as Erestor left the room, Elrond turned to Glorfindel and hissed, "Do you know what's wrong with you? Do you mean to tell me that you let Erestor do *that* to you? A big strong Balrog slayer like you let a scrawny little advisor... aw, Glorfindel. You're pregnant."
They heard a thud outside the room. Elrond ran to the door and opened it. Erestor lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. He closed the door and came back to his patient. And he giggled. The very sedate and dignified Lord of Imladris giggled.
Glorfindel started crying again and Erestor came flying into the room and stood over Elrond.
"What did you say to him?"
"You heard me, Erestor. He is with child."
Erestor hit the floor again.
"How?" Glorfindel finally managed to ask.
"Well, it is not unheard of but it is not common and to tell the truth, it has usually been hushed up to protect the ... moth- the pregnant male. Well, I'd say right offhand that you are the son of two male elves. It is passed down through generations. But you have to mate with a male to get pregnant."
"I had a mother. She was a female." Glorfindel had that stubborn look that said he wasn't listening.
"Nonetheless, you are pregnant and carrying Erestor's child. Your father's wife ... or your mother's wife must have agreed to raise you. Your child will be a boy because two males produce male children."
"H-how will it be born, Elrond? I don't exactly have any delivery equipment."
Elrond didn't say anything for long enough time that Glorfindel started to squirm and Erestor finally sat up and looked around.
"We- I - will make a small cut and remove the little one when it is time."
Glorfindel's eyes got impossibly large and he stepped down off the bed and stood in front of Elrond. He was several inches taller than the healer and much wider.
"Do I look like a mother to you?"
The warrior who had slain a Balrog did not intimidate Elrond.
"Yes. Now reach down and get your silly paramour off of the floor and listen to the things you need to know to have a healthy baby."
Months passed and indeed Glorfindel was with child. He swelled in all the right places and developed an unholy hankering for radishes. Erestor had to let his assistant do much of the work these days because he was usually out scouring the countryside for radish patches. Glorfindel ate them at every meal... with chocolate sauce, dipped in his tea, ground up and sprinkled over his meat and his vegetables and his bread. He had them for midnight snacks and with his eggs in the morning. Erestor knew that if he never saw another radish in his immortal life, it would be too soon.
Glorfindel whined quite a bit too. His figure would be ruined. No one would respect him if it got out that he let Erestor be on top. Oddly enough, he did not seem to think that him being someone's mother would change the way people felt about him.
There were other changes too. He wanted Erestor all the time, not just once a day but every time he looked into those lovely brown eyes or saw that slender body all cloaked in his somber robes or heard the soft voice even in another room. In a word, always. Erestor did his best to accommodate his lover but he finally became totally exhausted and began to hide in his office, under his desk, in the closet, and anywhere that Glorfindel couldn't find him.
This too passed as Glorfindel got rounder and rounder. He spent a lot of time sitting. Just sitting on the balcony, watching the world go by. And eating radishes. Always eating radishes.
One night, Glorfindel shook Erestor. The groggy elf finally managed to open his eyes. He sat up suddenly, alarmed.
"What is the matter?"
"It is time."
"How do you know? You can't go into labor. You have no... opening."
"It is still time. Go tell Lord Elrond."
Several hours later, a son was delivered to Glorfindel and Erestor. Both of them felt more joy than they ever knew was possible. He was a tiny replica of his fa - of Erestor except for his sky blue eyes. They named him Adishorel, but for the most part , just called him Radish.
And they lived happily ever after. Well, until the next time
that Glorfindel begged Erestor, "Take me, take me." It wasn't
clear who wailed the loudest, the baby at being woke up or Glorfindel at
being kicked unceremoniously from the bed onto his nice fine rear end.
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