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Chapter Text

Elphir was relieved that his father had moved his brother Amrothos and his wife out to the manor on the peninsula. First, it meant that he was far less worried about the castle burning down, and secondly, it meant he did not hear interminable details of his brother’s latest experiment. At least his brother’s wife seemed to be as enthusiastic about the experiments as Amrothos was—everyone had worried when he wed. Still, he missed his brother at times, so he was happy that Amrothos and Nilofar were coming to dinner with the family that evening at the Castle in Dol Amroth. They had been unable to come to the last few family dinners.

Of course, Amrothos turned up late, saying simply, “We had to keep an eye on the hamsters, Father.”

Elphir’s father, Imrahil, said nothing. Instead, his face displayed the most profound shock Elphir had ever seen. Elphir turned around and was similarly stricken dumb.

Amrothos’s wife Nilofar looked very much as always: messy dark hair, blue eyes, a vague expression and an all-encompassing dark dress. There was only one difference to her usual appearance: there was a distinct bulge in her lower abdomen. Amrothos’s correspondence had said nothing about this. Elphir turned and met the eyes of his wife, Fíndríel, and raised his eyebrows questioningly. Fíndríel shrugged and nodded, mouthing “I think so”. His other brother, Erchirion, was simply gaping.

Elphir did not know what to say or think. The night before his brother’s wedding, he had attempted to talk to his brother about intimate matters. His brother had shown no interest whatsoever, and had been far more excited about his new wife’s wedding gift of three large hairy Haradric spiders. Amrothos had said, “Logically, I do not know why people have to do that on the night of their marriage anyway? I am aware of the basic principle. I do not know what the fuss is about.” He had then waxed lyrical about how he intended to breed large hairy spiders. The conversation had traumatised Elphir, and given that both Amrothos and Nilofar seemed quite content the day after the wedding, he had decided to leave well enough alone. He had never seen them touch each other very much thereafter, and had presumed that they were more interested in other things: explosions, machines, hamsters and giant spiders, to name a few. It seemed his presumption had been entirely incorrect.

Amrothos and Nilofar took seats at the table, seemingly oblivious to the dumb silence which had fallen over the table.

“So—” said Imrahil eventually. “How are you, Amrothos? Do you have any news?”

“Yes! We do! We have been conducting experiments with spiders. You will be very interested to hear the results! They make very odd webs if you grind up café beans and feed it to them,” said Amrothos. “However, their webs are odder if you give them tincture of poppy—”

“—That makes sense, Amrothos,” said his wife, in her gently accented Westron. “If you look at the effects of tincture of poppy on Men and hamsters, the effects are more profound than the effects of café beans on Men and hamsters, so it is logical that it would be the same with spiders. Of course you need both Men and hamsters who are willing to try it—”

“—I hope you have not been having tincture of poppy lately, Nilofar,” interrupted Imrahil.

“No, I have not,” said Nilofar, calmly, turning to Imrahil. “Amrothos tried it instead. It is addictive, and he is better able to resist the effects of addiction than me. Café is only mildly addictive, of course; whereas tincture of poppy can be quite profoundly addictive—I do tend to get addicted to things; I know myself. And café does not suit my taste at the moment.”

“Why do you think that would that be?” said Fíndríel, glancing at Elphir.

“I am not sure of the precise reason why,” said Nilofar, looking vexed. “I shall have to investigate further: there are many interesting experiments to undertake—”

The first course was brought out. “O, squid, my favourite!” said Amrothos, clapping his hands.

Nilofar sighed. “So there, Fíndríel, you see again: I do not really like the taste of squid at the moment. I shall just eat bread. I do wonder what the common factor between squid and café beans is? It is most strange. What is the function behind the change in taste?”

“So have you any other news?” said Elphir, desperately.

“Aye, we have been undertaking a series of experiments with a view to helping Loti,” said Amrothos. “It has been fun, hasn’t it, Nilofar?”

“Much more fun than I would have thought, although some of the texts on the subject are inaccurate,” said Nilofar, shaking her head with disapproval.

Amrothos brightened. “We need to draw diagrams, Nilofar! Accurate ones!”

Nilofar beamed at her husband. “Yes! We would not want anyone to read those texts and be misled. I am afraid to say that some of the instructions in those texts are quite dangerous.”

Erchirion looked extremely concerned. “I hope you are not handling explosives, Nilofar?”

“Not at the moment,” said Nilofar. “Nor are we touching naphtha. If you can believe it, these other experiments have quite distracted us from explosives or addictive substances!”

“We conducted some most interesting interviews in preparation for this,” said Amrothos. “It is strange, the lives that other people lead! And how much they are willing to tell you about it!”

“That woman who pretended to be a Haradrim was hilarious,” said Nilofar. “Why would anyone wear garb baring her torso in these climes? Or a veil? There is no need in this realm; none at all. I never saw the sense in it anyway. Moreover I have never seen any woman dressed like that in Harad. It would be a scandal! Where did she get that idea from, do you think?”

There was silence as everyone ate the first course. If Elphir’s own situation was any guide, he suspected that no one else knew the answer to Nilofar’s questions either. He was wondering who on Middle Earth they had interviewed, but he was scared to ask.

After the first course had been cleared, Imrahil said, “So have your latest experiments been successful, Amrothos?”

Amrothos and Nilofar looked at each other. “It depends what you mean by success,” said Amrothos. “In terms of enjoyment and pleasure, I would say it has been very much been a success. In terms of actually achieving what we set out to achieve, it has quite evidently not been a success.”

“Yes, I would agree; it has been an extremely interesting voyage of discovery. I hope, however, that we do eventually succeed in our original aim,” said Nilofar. “I want to be able to undertake further exploration without risk to myself. I think it might be helpful for others, not just Loti.”

“On the bright side, we have been able to make a series of other interesting observations as a result,” said Amrothos. “The problem is: the female cadaver we obtained was not whole.”

“Most sad for the poor woman,” said Nilofar, calmly, picking at the crust of her bread. “It is terrible what some people do to each other, is it not?”

Elphir choked. “You did not dissect a female cadaver, ‘Rothos?”

“Yes,” said Amrothos, with utterly no realisation that he had horrified the entire table. “She was an executed pirate from Umbar. She had been sadly mutilated and wounded before she died, so she was not the best subject, and thus it was necessary to look to other sources—”

Fíndríel gagged on her mouthful.

“You are not offering to be a subject yourself, are you, Nilofar?” said Imrahil, his brows drawing down.

“Yes, of course,” said Nilofar. “But both Amrothos and I have decided to become subjects in our experiment. It is just that the effects are more serious for me.”

“I feel guilty,” said Amrothos. “A short experience for me, and considerable discomfort for you, Nilofar—”

At that moment, the main course was brought out, and Imrahil snapped his mouth shut on whatever he had been going to say.

“Luckily I still find fish quite tasty,” said Nilofar, looking at the main course. “O, what do you think of ‘Elendil’ for a name? I have always thought that name is beautiful.” She drew out the syllables. “Ellll-en-diiiil.”

“A name for whom?” said Imrahil.

Amrothos shook his head. “Our baby, of course, if it is a boy.” Everyone stared at him. He stared back. “What? Did you not notice Nilofar was pregnant? Surely you noticed?”

“We were waiting for you to say something first,” said Imrahil. “I did ask if you have any news.”

“So did I,” said Elphir.

“O, I forgot about that news,” said Amrothos. “Everyone: we are having a baby. Well, when I say we, obviously Nilofar is bearing the child, but I contributed too, otherwise there would be no baby.”

“Congratulations,” said Gallil, Erchirion’s wife, after a long stunned silence.

“It does mean that we have not succeeded in our experiment for Loti yet—” said Nilofar.

“You cannot call the baby Elendil!” said Imrahil firmly, interrupting her.

“Why not?” said Nilofar. “I will not call the baby Isildur, obviously, because I have always thought that Isildur was stupid and disobedient. If he had just put that Ring in the fire when he was told to, a lot of trouble could have been avoided. I almost feel that someone should have pushed him in, frankly, once it became clear he was not going to put it in himself.”

“You must have noticed that very few people in Gondor bear the name of any former King,” said Imrahil. “There is a reason for that. It is just not done. And well—there are other reasons, but I will not go into them now.”

“It might be a girl anyway,” said Fíndríel. “You cannot know at this stage. How far along are you?”

Amrothos said, “I have a chart! As far as I can work out, four months and four days.”

“By the Valar, ‘Rothos, when were you going to tell us?” cried Erchirion. “When the child was born?”

“I just forgot!” said Amrothos. “You see we were keeping charts of the times we did intimate things for the purposes of our experiment—”

“—also positions,” Nilofar reminded her husband. “I am still wondering, counting backwards, if it was the fact that it was me on the top which made the difference? Those ladies we interviewed did say that position matters—”

Elphir glanced at his wife. Fíndríel’s cheeks were very red, and she was staring at her plate and with every appearance that she wanted to be anywhere other than this dinner. He cleared his throat as  realisation dawned. “Was this in some way part of the experiment you have been conducting?”

“Yes!” said Amrothos. “So I got upset when Loti almost died after having Elfwine and Elfden. I mean, she is very annoying and quite bossy, but I would be very sad if she died.”

“I am glad to hear that,” said Imrahil.

“I suggested to Amrothos that maybe we should experiment with ways to stop her from having any further children.” Nilofar smiled happily. “We interviewed some so-called ladies of ill-repute to begin with: they gave us some very useful leads. I do not know why they have such a bad reputation? They were most pleasant and informative, were they not, Amrothos? But then we thought—who better to experiment with than ourselves? It has turned out to be most pleasant, apart from that one where the woman in the picture put her legs up behind her head: I do think that one is stupid and uncomfortable.”

“I think someone made it up,” said Amrothos. “It is physically impossible: the ladies did tell us that they thought no one could achieve it. Also some of those diagrams are not to scale or anatomically correct.”

Gallil stared. “Ladies? Diagrams?”

“Pictures, really,” said Nilofar. “They are not scientific diagrams. My sister sent me some books when I first wed.”

Fíndríel put her knife and fork on her plate. “You are experimenting on yourselves to find a way to ensure Lothíríel does not have any more children? Did I really hear that correctly? And you interviewed prostitutes? And consulted, er, erotic books?”

“Yes,” said Amrothos patiently. “I did tell you that, Fíndríel.”

“And Nilofar has fallen pregnant as a result of your experiments—?”

“That is why we said that we did not attain the goal we set out to achieve, but there were other excellent benefits which made up for it,” said Amrothos, grinning at Nilofar. “Also I am very interested to watch Nilofar undergo pregnancy, although I was a little annoyed when she was sick. This was why we could not come to dinner the month before or the month before that. That part was inconvenient.”

“It was,” agreed Nilofar. “It interrupted several experiments, and as I have noted, I cannot drink café: not at all! It makes me vomit profusely. It is very vexing. I am attempting to develop a theory about the function of the changes in taste—do you know of anyone else who cannot drink café while pregnant?”

“Ah—I did not like it,” said Fíndríel. “It tasted strange and bitter.”

“Yes!” said Nilofar. “Almost metallic?”

“Éowyn can never drink café while pregnant either, which means that she has been unable to drink café at all for substantial periods during the last fourteen years,” said Amrothos. “There must be some kind of link, if you both suffered this malady. Unfortunately, I think Éowyn has never eaten squid in her life, so we cannot ask her about that aspect: she is sadly illogical about things with eight legs. Do you think Éowyn and Faramir would want to know if we find something to stop pregnancies?”

“The problem is, my own mother had children very easily, and it turns out that it was easy for me too,” said Nilofar. “Therefore if, during the course of our experiments, we find something which works on me, then I think it will work on anyone else. It might even work on Éowyn!”

Imrahil rested his head in his hands. “I have no idea whether they would want—”

“It is a little too late, surely, for them?” said Gallil. “How many children now?”

“Seven,” said Elphir.

“Did Loti actually ask you to do this for her, ‘Rothos?” said Erchirion.

“Not as such,” said Amrothos. “Loti often does not know what she really needs, because she is not entirely logical, and it struck me that this was the thing she needed but would never ask for.”

Fíndríel started to laugh. “No, she would not ask for advice on such things, nor would she interview prostitutes to discover the answer.”

“Most definitely not,” agreed Imrahil.

“I do not really understand why,” said Amrothos. “Why do people get so embarrassed? It is just like any other bodily function, really.”

“Hamsters are not embarrassed by sexual activity,” said Nilofar. “Of course, the female hamsters sometimes kill the male ones after mating. I am glad I did not have to kill you, Amrothos.”

“So am I,” said Amrothos. “We would not have been able to continue our experiment and save Loti!”

Gallil and Fíndríel contracted the giggles. Elphir could not look at his wife, because every time he did, his own mouth twitched and he feared it was catching. Gallil was choking and tears were running down her face.

“I am not sure what is funny?” said Amrothos.

“Hamsters—” choked out Fíndríel.

The servitors took away the plates and served the final course: a sweet cake.

“The baby will like this!” said Nilofar. “He kicks when I eat something sweet. I have only just started to feel it properly.”

“Fíndríel said Alphros loved hot drinks with honey,” said Elphir.

Fíndríel had now recovered enough to say, “All of the children have loved that, dear.”

“Very good, I shall try it when I get home,” said Nilofar. “We can document the effect of different drinks, Amrothos!”

“Imrazor,” said Imrahil.

“I beg your pardon?” said Erchirion.

“That is a good name for the child, if it is a boy. I will think on names for a girl,” said Imrahil.

“I like that,” said Nilofar. “Im-rahhh-zoorrrrr.” She savoured the syllables.

Amrothos nodded. “Yes, thank you, Father. That is a most pleasant name.”

“I will also organise for someone to help you when the baby is born,” said Imrahil. “A wet nurse and a nanny, perhaps, so that you can continue your experiments? But can I emphasise—absolutely no naphtha around your child!”

“That is really thoughtful, honoured father-in-law,” said Nilofar. “And no we will not explode or burn things while I am pregnant, or around small children.”

“Thank you,” said Imrahil. “Have you told your father?”

“O, I forgot to tell Baba! He has many, many grandchildren, so I do not know that he will care that much. I did say that everyone in my family had children easily, didn’t I? Of course one of the emperors killed all my brothers, so that was a little sad, but there was nothing to be done—”

“O no,” said Fíndríel, putting her hands to her mouth.

“If you tell Lothíríel about this, can I be there to see how she reacts?” said Erchirion.

“By all means, but we have not yet had success,” said Amrothos.

“I hope Igorion is looking after the hamsters,” said Nilofar.

“Who, by the Valar, is Igorion?” said Elphir. “He is not a man of ill-repute?”

“He is a Dwarf who helps us with experiments—” said Amrothos.

“—He has remarkable skill with test-tubes,” said Nilofar.

None of this made any sense to Elphir at all, and he felt sudden pity for the poor child who was going to grow up with this.

Nilofar yawned. “I hope you do not mind, but I am tired. I am going to go to bed.”

“I will come too,” said Amrothos.

They wandered out of the dining hall. Gallil and Fíndríel followed them shortly afterward. They were laughing again, and Elphir suspected they were going somewhere to debrief on the situation.

“Father!” hissed Erchirion, urgently. “You cannot let them have a child!”

“What would you have me do?” said Imrahil. “Obviously this was not something I was expecting.”

“‘Rothos never showed any interest in intimate behaviour before,” said Elphir. “None! I did try to talk to him before the wedding and he was more interested in talking about spiders.”

“I know,” said Imrahil. “But there is a more serious point, and it goes directly to why I would not let Nilofar name her child after a King—”

Elphir gaped. “Not … Castamir the Usurper?”

“Aye, yes. Nilofar is related to him on her mother’s side. She has one of the better Castamirist claims to the throne of Gondor, as it happens. Luckily she has no interest in this whatsoever, nor does anyone else in her extended family—I checked this thoroughly before letting them wed—but there is no way I want anyone to accuse us of fostering a rival to the throne. Consequently, this child shall be raised with a Dol Amroth name and Dol Amroth values.”

“Aragorn has a son now, thank the Valar,” said Erchirion, thoughtfully.

“I know,” said Imrahil. “And I am heartily glad of that on many levels.”

“I hope Amrothos’s and Nilofar’s child will be well with them,” said Elphir. “I mean, I love ‘Rothos despite his craziness, but I do not necessarily think he would be a very thoughtful father in the way that a child needs.”

“That is why I immediately suggested a wetnurse and a nanny,” agreed Imrahil. “They shall get every assistance, to ensure that this child is cared for. And if they cannot care for it, I shall look after it.”

“They may surprise us?” said Erchirion. “Or it may end up experimented upon: fed café beans and tincture of poppy—?”

“There is no way in which I shall let my grandchild be experimented upon,” said Imrahil, sternly.

“It is odd how Amrothos shows affection,” said Elphir. “It is not that he lacks affection, necessarily: the fact that he went to all this trouble for Loti is evidence of that—”

Imrahil sighed. “That was a very upsetting time. She took so long to recover from Elfden’s birth: even longer than it took her to recover from Elfwine’s birth.”

“Éomer was distraught,” said Elphir. “I have never seen him so upset.”

“I have,” said Imrahil. “He was worse when he thought his sister was dead, but this was near to the same level.”

“He is a good man,” said Erchirion.

“He is,” said Imrahil. Then he looked thoughtful. “I did not realise Amrothos had been so affected by Loti’s illness. He surprises even me.”

“Well, at least we know about the child now,” said Elphir. “I cannot believe that they did not tell us until now?”

Erchirion’s eyes widened. “O no. If this is an experiment—I hope they do not try again—if they have as many children as Éowyn and Faramir, that will be a disaster!”

Imrahil said, “By the Valar, I had not thought of that! I will try to speak to them, and convince them that the experiment should not be extended.”

Elphir winced. “I suspect—I hate to say this, but it has to be said—I suspect they have discovered the pleasures of intimate conduct—did you see how ‘Rothos grinned at Nilofar?—and I cannot imagine that they are going to stop now.”

“Diagrams!” said Erchirion.

“If they ever draw any, please do not show them to me,” said Elphir.

“Well,” said Imrahil. “This has been a most unexpected evening. We will just have to keep an eye on the situation and on the child, are we agreed?”

“We are,” said Elphir.

“I still cannot believe it,” said Erchirion.

Elphir headed back to his chambers. His valet helped him undress and prepare for bed, and then politely absented himself. When he got to bed, to his surprise, Fíndríel was waiting up for him.

“Hullo,” he said. “Not asleep yet, Finny?”

She started to laugh. “I cannot believe it, Elphir! Hamsters! Experiments! Ladies of ill-repute! Even after all these years, they still astonish me. Gallil and I could not stop laughing.”

“I hope it was not too embarrassing for you,” said Elphir.

Fíndríel raised her eyebrows. “I do not ever want to think of those two engaging in intimate conduct ever again. But … do you think, love … we could try the thing Nilofar spoke of?”

“Not legs behind the head?” said Elphir.

“No! Me on top!”

As Elphir stripped off his nightgown, he reflected that there was a silver lining to every cloud.

Chapter Text

Éomer and his family sat at the table eating breakfast. His oldest son Elfwine was attempting to fire spoonfuls of porridge across the table. Éomer was proud to note that his aim was quite good, and he had hit his mother on the shoulder several times.

“Stop playing with your porridge!” said his wife to Elfwine, while nursing their youngest son, Elfden. “Can you open this letter for me, Éomer? I cannot do it one-handed—”

Éomer took the letter and broke the seal—it was evidently from his father-in-law—and then handed it back to Lothíríel, who unfolded it with one hand.

“By the Valar!” said Lothíríel, after a short moment.

“Mummy swore!” said Elfwine, with great delight.

Éomer flinched: Lothíríel very rarely swore. “What happened, Loti?”

“Amrothos and Nilofar are expecting a child,” she said.

Éomer dropped his spoon into his porridge, and watched ruefully as the handle sank into the milky oats. Eventually he said, “I thought they were not interested in—well—anyway—?”

Lothíríel kept reading. “Oh no! It is in some ways my fault.”

Éomer blinked. “Your fault? How can it be your fault, dear?”

“Let me finish reading this and I will give it to you—I do not think I can explain it myself—it is simply …” Lothíríel shook her head and trailed off into silence. Éomer had never seen his wife this lost for words before, although if anyone could effect it, it would be her brother Amrothos.

Meanwhile Éomer dug his spoon out of the porridge with Lothíríel’s spoon, handed it gingerly to a servant, and was given two clean spoons.

Eventually she finished the letter and handed it to Éomer. Éomer put his fingers to the bridge of his nose after reading the first page, and scrunched his eyes closed. “It was an experiment? For our benefit?”

“Apparently so,” said Lothíríel.

Éomer laughed. “I mean, it is strangely sweet, is it not?”

“I am so relieved you take this view of my brother, darling,” said Lothíríel.

Éomer spat out his porridge when he got to the second page. “They wanted to call it Elendil if it was a boy?”

“Daddy is playing with his food, Mummy!” said Elfwine. “He spat it onto the table!”

“It was an accident,” Éomer said to his oldest son. Then he ran his hand through his long hair. “Diagrams? Diagrams?”

“I refuse to look at them if they draw any,” said Lothíríel.

Éomer said nothing. On one level, he was horrified, but on another level he was interested: what would they come up with? Amrothos did not really think like other people.

“Well it is good that your father is hiring other people to help them,” he said, after finishing the letter and handing it back to his wife. “And that the name ‘Elendil’ has been vetoed.”

“Nilofar has no tact,” said Lothíríel, firmly. “A descendant of Castamir should not call her child by the name of the King of Gondor.”

“Who was Castamir again?” said Éomer. “I do not recall him?”

“The one who usurped the throne after a King of Gondor married a woman of your people,” said Lothíríel. “Castamir and his supporters were afraid it was going to dilute Númenorean blood.”

“O, that is right—Faramir has told me of this—the Kin Strife: it is why there was some trouble when he married Éowyn.” Éomer paused. “It is ironic, is it not? The usurpers objected to the King diluting his blood, and instead they ended up diluting their own blood with that of the Haradrim? Am I right? Because Nilofar is clearly not purely Númenorean—”

“You are right,” said Lothíríel. “You always think of interesting angles, dear.”

“It comes of being an outsider,” said Éomer. “You often think of interesting solutions to the problems we have here.”

“Well, that just proves why the usurper was wrong,” said Lothíríel. “It is useful at times to have an outside view.”

Éomer beamed at his wife. “I personally think Gondor and Rohan make an excellent combination, as I often tell my sister. So excellent that I ended up copying her.” He kissed his porridge-covered son on the head and then blew a kiss to his wife.

Lothíríel stared at him. “What … what do you think this child is going to be like? I hope the poor thing is not totally mad, with those parents?”

Éomer shrugged: like her cousin Faramir, Lothíríel had a tendency to expect the worst. “I rather expect that they might cancel each other out, and the child will be totally normal.”

“If it is normal, we have to invite it over here as much as possible,” said Lothíríel.

“Verily,” said Éomer, and then stood. “Elfwine, do you want to come for a ride with me?”

“Yes Daddy!” said his oldest son with glee.

Éomer kissed his wife on the head and picked up Elfwine to take him for a ride. He was very proud of how well Elfwine was riding his pony.