SERIES: "The Plan" (1/WIP)
FIC: (Part One) "Practice Makes Perfect"
AUTHOR: Mistress Marilyn (camelotslash-2@qwest.net)
DATE: August 7, 2004
FANDOM: LOTR
PAIRING: Legolas / ?
DISCLAIMER: I don't own 'em. They belong to Tolkien, to the respective actors of the Peter Jackson movies, and to the ages. This is a work of a fan, done for no remuneration save the satisfaction of the work.
WARNINGS: Slash, mpreg
SUMMARY: Legolas prepares himself for an important mission.
DEDICATION: To elf-lovers everywhere who want to see them all pregnant.
AUTHOR NOTES: I'm writing more and more mpreg; it's become the slash of this century for me, having spent 30 years of the last one writing just slash.

Part One, Practice Makes Perfect

Legolas crept from his bed chamber in the city of Minas Tirith, slipping past the doorway of his friend and wartime companion, Gimli, Son of Gloin. The dwarf snored loudly, completely unaware of the world, much less the nearly silent passing of the elf. Still, Legolas took care not to be discovered on this surreptitious mission.

First he stopped and used a privy, emptying his bladder and bowel. Then he found one of the many running fountains of spring water in the citadel and cleaned himself carefully. When finished he headed toward the impressive library. His feet were bare and his tunic loose. He moved across the smooth stone floor without a sound.

He hurried to a far corner, where the books were stacked high and thick. He pulled out a leather-covered treatise devoid of the dust evident on other volumes. He had been visiting this spot and returning to this book night after night, knowing this part of the library was rarely traversed and this curious tome would not be noticed. He stepped to an alcove where the moon hovering outside offered enough natural light for him to see. He opened to a well-marked page, settling down on the cold floor and placing the book in front of him.

He took a deep breath and studied a well-drawn depiction of a young male elf with a swollen belly and breasts. The elf in the picture was naked, squatting with eyes closed, holding his belly with both hands; he looked relatively peaceful, despite the small head poking out between his spread legs.

The elf in the drawing was giving birth.

Legolas slowly deciphered the ancient language and read the steps the elf was taking as he dropped his baby. Concentration was most important; breathing well was stressed; relaxing all the muscles save those of the lower body was absolutely necessary.

Legolas stared at the drawing for a time, trying to imagine himself in the position of the elf depicted, then he sighed and turned the pages back to a passage earlier in the book. He began reading, struggling with the translation, his brows knit. Accompanying the chapter was another drawing of a young male elf. This one, too, was naked and squatting, with one hand holding his sex organs tightly against his belly and the other pushed back between his legs, fingers seemingly inserted into his rectum.

Legolas read over the description twice, then pulled off his tunic and assumed the position of the elf in the drawing. He closed his eyes and summoned calm as he carefully penetrated himself with two fingers. He relaxed his muscles to facilitate the entry, then he searched for the place inside described in the book.

Finally he found the slight dimple of the opening within; he performed the necessary ministrations the book related, and the second canal opened, swallowing one finger, then the other. He took a deep breath; a sensation of elation overcame him.
 
For many nights now Legolas had performed the exercises from the ancient transcript. According to the book, male elves who could learn to control this oft unused part of their bodies could achieve the seemingly impossible act of male conception. If he could learn to open himself when in this position and awaken the part of his body that would make ready a fertile spot, he would later be well prepared when a male partner brought along the plow and seed to do the rest.

Legolas faithfully mimicked the description and drawing for some time, stretching himself inside, relaxing himself outside. When the act became too sexually exciting and his male organ responded, he squeezed it painfully and waited for it to subside. He must forego this distraction and think only of his mission: to train his body to open like a flower waiting for pollination.

Not that there wasn't pleasure to be found. The book described this, too, and the exercise would not be finished until the flush of internal warmth and slight bubbling of moisture were achieved. Legolas was nearly out of breath by the time he had reached this penultimate point in his practice. He allowed himself to groan.

The final act was to release the hold he had on himself and to slowly pump his legs up and down, raising and lowering his pelvis while he willed the opening to close again. When this was finished, he once more inserted a finger and found nothing but the telltale dimple.

A bead of perspiration stood out on his forehead, something Legolas had rarely experienced. He wiped it away, bemused. It seemed his body was definitely changing, in subtle ways, at least. He hoped this tiny sign was evidence of an even greater change.

Tonight's exercise had been the best of all. Everything had gone exactly as described in the book, and there was every reason to believe he was as prepared as he could be to act out his plan.

He intended to get himself with child.

He stood up, his legs rubbery, and reached for the discarded tunic. Then he took the large volume and replaced it in its spot on the crowded shelf. His bare soles left no footprints on the dusty floor of this unused corner of the library when he left, as if he had never been there.

The End, Part One