Abigail von Normal (seethingheathen) wrote in sugarylime,
Abigail von Normal
seethingheathen
sugarylime

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MST: Miracle Whip and Peanut Butter, Part 3.

Title: Miracle Whip and Peanut Butter.
Author: sugarylime.
Pairing: Aragorn/Legolas
Rating: R, for disturbing sexual imagery and language.
Disclaimer: Not true. Fiction.
Author's Notes: MST of the story Miracle Flutters, by QueenCria. Used without permission. Text blocks in italics are the original story. No parts of it have been altered, and it remains the property of the original author. I refuse to take credit for shite like that. MPreg Warning: The original fic is an MPreg, and this is one in parody.



Part Three: Aragorn Really Wants Some Cake, But Only Momentarily.



ARAGORN and LEGOLAS return to the screening room, where we find SUGARYLIME passed out cold.

LEGOLAS: Oi! SugaryLime!

SUGARYLIME: Eh? What time is it? Where am I?

ARAGORN: It’s half-three on Wednesday, and you’re in the GSC Cinema.

SUGARYLIME: Right. Well, that explains it. I must have passed out after skimming ahead to the next bit of the story. My poor brain just couldn’t take it.

ARAGORN: You wouldn’t subject a pregnant man to that sort of horror, would you?

SUGARYLIME: Park it.

ARAGORN: Damn.


Author’s Note-- This fic will have a lot of pretty big time jumps. Like a chapter for every three months, unless I say otherwise. And most names I used in this I came up with on my own and their translations are completely of my mind. So if the name doesn’t match the translation, I apologize. This chapter is going to have a lot more dialogue than the previous two, so I hope you like it.


LEGOLAS: So, basically, what she’s saying is, is that she can’t be fucked to do actual research? Shouldn’t she at least pretend to care about the canon she’s butchering six ways from Sunday?

SUGARYLIME: Yeah, that’s what she’s saying. It’s like, ‘I’m not stupid, I’m just lazy, so don’t make fun of me.’

LEGOLAS: And it’s working so well.


If you do like it, I appreciate reviews! There is a direct link between how many reviews I get and how quickly I update. (hint, hint)


ARAGORN: And yet, even with this warning, people continue to review her.


Starlight, Our Daughter

Legolas walked slowly along one of the many paths in the Royal Gardens. A wonderfully cool breeze kissed his cheeks and ran its fingers through his hair. The sweltering heat of summer had finally dissipated a few weeks before, giving way for Gondor’s most beautiful season, Autumn. All the trees were turning brilliant shades of yellow, orange, and fiery red. As the leaves had changed, Legolas had found himself infused with new energy and had spent many hours outside, enjoying the colors and the beauty.



LEGOLAS: We named our sprog Starlight? I bet it was Aragorn’s idea, the tosser.

ARAGORN: Why are you blaming me? Everyone always blames me for everything! It’s not fair! All I do is slave all day trying to make the Kingdom a better place, and all I get is criticism. Well, I’ve had it.

SUGARYLIME: Hoo boy. And thus begin the mood swings.

ARAGORN: Did I hear ‘cake?’

SUGARYLIME: Er, no. But listen real hard, and you might.

LEGOLAS: I don’t get it.

ARAGORN: No cake?

SUGARYLIME: No. No cake.


Today he was walking towards a small pavilion where Aragorn had arranged for them to have lunch. It was a rare treat for the royal couple. Being king was no easy task, made more difficult by the fact that he had to clean up after Sauron’s destruction. Most nights he did not return to their chambers until midnight, or even later. So to be able to spend a meal together, uninterrupted, was a gift. Legolas rounded a corner and was greeted with the sight of his one true love lounging in a chair. As Legolas came towards him, he stood and smiled.


SUGARYLIME: I can see Aragorn out there, with his little broom and dustpan, sweeping up the ashes from Mt Doom.

LEGOLAS: Whilst I’m in here mopping up all the vomit being Aragorn’s One Twu Wuv is causing me to spew.

ARAGORN: What I want to know is, where the bloody hell is Arwen?

LEGOLAS and SUGARYLIME: Huh?

ARAGORN: I mean, speaking of true love, er, I mean vomit.

SUGARYLIME: Right.


“Hello, my love.” he said as he kissed Legolas warmly.

“Hello. Mmm, that feels good. I’ve missed you lately.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, but soon things should return to some semblance of normal and we can spend some time together.”

“That’s sounds wonderful, but for now, lunch will have to do.”

“Then shall we?” Aragorn gestured to the pavilion with a mock courtly bow.

The couple walked in hand’s entwined and sat down, side by side. The chefs had prepared a wonderful meal, much like what would be served in Rivendell or Mirkwood. Legolas had never really acquired a taste for the meats and venison that the men of Gondor so loved. Before he became pregnant he could have handled them, but now even the smell caused his stomach to turn. He was glad to feast on the fruits and simple food of his kind.



LEGOLAS: Because we Elves are known Vegans. Leather-wearing Vegans. Yes.

SUGARYLIME: I like how she says, ‘meats and venison.’

ARAGORN: Maybe she thinks venison’s something else. Like cake for instance.

LEGOLAS: Enough with the cake! If I hear ‘cake’ one more time, someone’s getting hurt.

SUGARYLIME: ‘When she walks, she moves her arms-’ OW!

LEGOLAS: Don’t push me.


“I have a treat for you my love.” Aragorn said, with a coy smile. He motion to a servant who brought forward a small covered plate. “I know how much you love them.” Aragorn removed the cover to reveal lembas bread. Legolas smiled joyfully.

“Where did you get these?” Legolas asked, as he broke off a chunk. “Only the elves know how to make them.”

“Years ago, when I spent a time in Lothlorien, the Lady Galadriel; knowing that I traveled quite a bit, taught me how to make them. I know they’re not exactly like the ones she would make, but I did what I could.”



LEGOLAS: Seriously, it’s just Lembas. It’s not fucking caviar or something.

SUGARYLIME: I’m having a hard time imagining Galadriel in the kitchen.

ARAGORN: Really? She was a gourmet chef, you know. Her trifle won Best Dessert at the Tastes of Arda bake-off five decades running.

LEGOLAS: Her Spaghetti Bolognese- to die for.

SUGARYLIME: Ohhkay.


“They’re perfect.” Legolas leaned over and kissed Estel again. He Hadn’t realized how much he missed the feel of his warm, gentle lips pressed against his own. The two broke after many moments and finished the meal. It was a great joy, to be able to spend time just talking to each other and rekindling their love. Eventually they moved from the pavilion to a bench, for some quality snuggle time. They sat with Legolas’s head resting and Estel’s chest and both their hands resting on Legolas’s stomach.


ARAGORN: Quality. Snuggle. Time.

SUGARYLIME: Yep.

ARAGORN: I think my blood pressure's just shot up.

LEGOLAS: Yours? You’re not the one getting all moony-eyed and sappy over a few crumbs of second-rate Lembas.

ARAGORN: Second-rate? Fuck you.

LEGOLAS: Oh, shut up. You bought it at Tesco, and we all know it.


“I’ve been thinking, Estel, love, we really should be thinking of names for her.”

“I agree. Have you thought of any?”

“Hmm, let’s see. We could name her after a person in our families.”

“We could. My mother was named Gilraen, but she always said she disliked her name.”

“My sister is named Killia.”

“Child of fairies? Considering who this child’s parents are that could be misinterpreted. What do you think of Aredhel?”



SUGARYLIME: No comment.

LEGOLAS: It burns us!

ARAGORN: I . . . can’t . . . stop . . . laughing. Whoopsie daisies.

LEGOLAS: Fucking hell! Can’t you learn to control your bladder?

ARAGORN [eyeing SUGARYLIME]: Well, if someone wasn’t using it for a punching bag, I probably could.

SUGARYLIME: Er, sorry.

LEGOLAS: Probably?

ARAGORN: . . .


“Noble-elf. Well I certainly like it, but the people of Gondor might not. I would suggest Arwen, or something along those lines, but the two of you did not part on the best of terms.”


SUGARYLIME: I thought Arwen was the aunty. What the hell? Now you’re not speaking?

ARAGORN: Didn’t you get her warning about major time jumps?

SUGARYLIME: Oh, right.

LEGOLAS: See, this way, she doesn’t have to actually go into detail about important events. All she has to do is mention them in passing as the storyline merits.

SUGARYLIME: Important events? Storyline? Are we talking about the same fic here?


“Yes, I’m not sure how my foster-sister would react. We could name her Ellaria. A combination of Elladan and Elrohir.”


SUGARYLIME: Ellaria. Sounds like Malaria. Probably just as disgusting.

LEGOLAS: Fangirls, take note: Arwen Undómiel, the Evenstar of her people and one-half of the greatest couple since Lúthien and Beren, has been reduced to being referred to as Aragorn’s foster-sister for the sick purposes of perpetuating the false and pathetic idea that Aragorn and I are lovers, and I am pregnant with his child. If this happens again, I swear to the Valar that I will kill every motherfucking last one of you.

SUGARYLIME: Er, Legolas?

LEGOLAS: Huh?

SUGARYLIME: Take a pill, man.


“But that might serve only to anger Arwen further. Perhaps we should not use a family name, or any combination, Estel.”

“Yes, my love. It would avoid offending anyone.”

“Wait, I have an idea. Do you remember the first night we felt her move?” Legolas said as the baby gave a strong kick that they both felt.

“Of course.”



ARAGORN: Oh, Jesus. Does anyone else feel queasy?

LEGOLAS: No, I absolutely love reading this shite and seeing myself portrayed as an effeminate wanker whose only use is sitting around and continually recapping previous actions for the benefit of no one.

SUGARYLIME: So you enjoyed Peter Jackson’s films then?

ARAGORN: We don’t talk about that.

LEGOLAS: For me, the grief is still too near.


“Do you remember how brilliant the sky looked? With the stars shining more brightly than I have ever seen in Gondor?”

“Yes. It seemed as though there were twice as many stars as usual.”

“Let us name her after that night. We should name her Sarielle.”

Estel paused and considered for a moment. “Starlight. Princess Sarielle Elessar. I like it. Yes, I think that is the perfect name.”



SUGARYLIME: Okay, it’s been a few years since I’ve read the books, but isn’t your royal house called Telcontar? You’re Aragorn King Elessar Telcontar, aren’t you?

ARAGORN: Last I knew, why?

SUGARYLIME: So, wouldn’t this demon sprog be called Sarielle Telcontar? I mean, if she were, oh, I don’t know, an actual fucking character in the story?

LEGOLAS: You’re so hot when you get all canony like that. If I weren’t a useless, effeminate wanker, I’d kiss you.

SUGARYLIME: Er, yeah.


Legolas and smiled as he rubbed his hand across the nine month swell of his stomach. Because elves carried for a year and humans for nine months, their child could be born anytime in the next three months.


ARAGORN: Somehow, I don’t think it works that way.

SUGARYLIME: Bad Author Logic. Although, if she were doing averages, the baby really wouldn’t come along til ten-and-a-half months.

ARAGORN: Great. That’s what I’ve got to look forward to?

SUGARYLIME: No, you’ve only got three-and-a-half chapters left.


“I’m glad you like it. What do you think, little one?” Legolas asked with a laugh. Amazingly, the baby gave a very strong push, directly on their hands. Estel and Legolas laughed and embraced each other as well as they could.

“I think she approves, my love.”

“I agree. But what will her second name be? I know elves do not have one, but the men of Gondor do and I think it would be a way to help them accept her.”



LEGOLAS: If he calls me his love one more time, it’s an arrow through the eye.

ARAGORN: It’s hardly my fault.

SUGARYLIME: If you think that’s bad, wait and see what she comes up with next. Canon rape, anyone?


“Hmm. Ah, do you remember the legend of the Elven Queen who united men and elves in the Elder days, a thousand years before Sauron, to combat the army of Dia-Ranmoth?”

“Yes, my father told it to me often.”

“The queen’s name was Annilenn, beautiful voice. Perhaps it will serve as an omen for our own child. She will be the first child born of the races of elf and me and she will help to unite the people of Gondor and elves of Mirkwood, Rivendell, and Lothlorien.”

“Sarielle Annilenn Elessar. It’s perfect, Estel.”



LEGOLAS: Oh no, she di-int.

ARAGORN: Oh yes, she di-id.

SUGARYLIME: May I point out a few things?

LEGOLAS: Have at.

SUGARYLIME: Thank you. First: Dia-Ranmoth? Sounds like a car. I can picture the adverts for it now. “New from Renault, the Dia-Ranmoth. Perfect for your army’s combat needs. Seats twelve and has ample storage for armour and weaponry. Comes in four colours: Orcblood Black, Spewing Lava Red, Mirkwood Grey, and Tangerine.”

LEGOLAS: Yes. Next?

SUGARYLIME: Second: Why in the fuck would they need to unite Men and Elves when nearly all the sodding Elves have crossed the sea? Does this girl not read? The time of the Elves is over, and it’s the Men’s turn to run the place. Jesus fuck, people.

ARAGORN: Wow, that’s-

SUGARYLIME: I’m not done. Annilenn? Annilenn? Yes, the Elven Queen was called Annilenn, because as we all know, Tolkien was an avid fan of a not-yet-born Scottish singer whom the author of a really shite MPreg would worship years after his death. Thank you, that is all.

LEGOLAS: Brilliantly executed, if I may say so myself.

ARAGORN: You just did.


The two fell into a comfortable silence. Both thinking of their daughter and what a blessing she was. Legolas thought of his family in Mirkwood and how thrilled they had been. Though he was the youngest of five, he was the first to have children. Thranduil was overjoyed at the prospect of finally having a grandchild to spoil.


LEGOLAS: I wish this bitch would fall into a hole.

SUGARYLIME: A hole for which there are no words?

LEGOLAS: A hole which has no bottom.

ARAGORN: Better than a bottom which has no hole.

LEGOLAS: Too fucking right.


“My love?” Estel said.

“Mmm?”

“Do you think we should pick a male name, just in case?”

“No need. We are having a daughter.”

“How do you know.”

“Parental intuition. I just know in my heart that it is daughter. But we can pick one just in case the need arises. Why don’t you choose.”



LEGOLAS: My name. Is Legolas.

SUGARYLIME: And I am here to have your babies.

LEGOLAS: Yeah- hey. Fuck you.


“First, I think we should use Haldir, to honor his memory.”


LEGOLAS: Did something happen to Haldir? I just talked to him yesterday, and he seemed fine.

SUGARYLIME: Film canon.

LEGOLAS: Oh, right. Fucking Peter Jackson.

ARAGORN: Now that’s something I don’t care to think about.


“I agree. It will please the elves.”

“And then Boromir, to honor his sacrifice.”

“That will please the men.”

“But I think you are right.”

“How is that?”

“I think we will have a beautiful daughter, Sarielle Annilenn Elessar.”

Estel and Legolas clasped hands again, while still rubbing his swollen stomach. The baby was kicking gently now, each movement a testament to what a miracle she was.

TBC



LEGOLAS: Let’s count the number of times my stomach is referred to as swollen.

ARAGORN: Wow. Only twice.

LEGOLAS: Twice more than I care to see.

SUGARYLIME: Just think, it’ll be over soon. I think you give birth in the next chapter.

LEGOLAS: I can hardly wait.


PS-- I hope you like it. Just in case you were curious, the name Annilenn come from Annie Lennox, who I think has a beautiful voice.


SUGARYLIME: Could have been worse, I suppose. She could have used Britneila or something. It’s times like this when I’m glad Britney Spears’ career is headed for the crapper.

LEGOLAS: Only times like this?

SUGARYLIME: Well, no, all the time, really.

And that concludes Part Three of Miracle Whip and Peanut Butter. Stay tuned for more.
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