Valhin still didn't know how he had managed to stay on Winters's good side 
long enough to get into her bed, but it had quite obviously happened *some*where 
along the line.  And, at some other somewhere along the line, amidst screaming 
arguments, tormenting Orcs, attempting to kill each other, and trying to kill 
that blasted group of misfitted half-breeds, he had managed to stay in her 
bed long enough to get her pregnant.  Valhin figured the day he'd remember 
exactly how that had happened would probably be the day he'd die, which might 
very well be today, for all he knew.  Today was, in fact, the day she'd gone 
into the birthing chamber, to bring his child (hopefully his, at least), into 
the world.

He'd almost feel guilty, if he didn't think she deserved all the pain, if only 
for the way she'd treated him throughout the entire pregnancy.  After all, it 
took two, and he'd only been one of that pair.

Valhin sighed for the six millionth time that day, at *least*.  He'd been waiting 
in the stone-tiled hall for twelve hours now, alternately sulking, pacing, 
sulking, thinking, hoping, sulking, and tormenting passing Orcs, just for a 
change of pace.  He had heard nothing from the room Winters was in.  Well, 
nothing, that is, until then.

There was a yell of rage from inside, so sudden it made him jump, and then 
Winters's voice.  "Get Mordin now, or I'll toss you to the Wargs!"

Modrin.  Valhin sighed once more and stood up, pushing his way past the healer 
who hurried out, and glancing nervously around the room.  He cleared his throat.

"What are you waiting for, Mordin?" she snapped.  That's when he saw her, in the 
corner, and holding a bundle that looked slightly larger than he would have 
suspected.  "I was sorely tempted to kill it when I found out I was expecting, 
you know," she said, sure that she had his attention.

"No!"  Valhin was next to her in a few strides.  "I know you probably dislike 
the idea of your child not being full Elf a great deal, but I'm begging you: 
don't kill it!  I'll take care of it, keep it here, if that'll make you happy!  
I'll never make a single reference to you!  All I want is a baby-my baby-that's 
strong enough to survive and take over Mordor after I-"

Winters's derisive snort cut him short.  "You have guts, Mordin, even if you *are* 
an idiot."  She paused.  "Well, if you really want to be saddled with them, and 
if you're willing to take care of the brats alone..."  She gave a wicked smile at 
his shock.

"Them?  B-brats?  Plural?  But..."

She pulled the blanket back a bit from the top of the bundle she was holding to 
show him.  Two tiny faces stared back at him.  "Twins," she said, as if he 
needed telling.

"One," Valhin said, throat dry.  "One I could handle, but two?"  He looked 
thoroughly confused as he stared at the two little babies.  "Two?  How...?"

Winters shrugged.  "All I know is you've a daughter and a son.  If you really think 
you can handle them by yourself..." She smirked.

"No!" Valhin yelped, latching onto her arm.  "I could handle one, but two would be 
impossible with all the dangers around here!"

She laughed a bit and shook him off.  "All right, then.  I can't possibly bring 
myself to kill my own offspring, anyhow.  I'll stay and help you raise them, as 
long as you keep them in Mordor."

Valhin let out a breath he only just realized he had been holding.  "No word of 
them will reach outside, unless you decide otherwise."

Winters took a moment to straighten the wrappings, then handed one baby to him.  
"You can name your daughter."

"But-but, what about...?"  He trailed off, looking longingly at the boy-his son-in 
Winters's grip.

"I named my son Seregthalion," she replied.  "You can name our daughter."  She laughed 
as said child reached up with one chubby pink fist and punched her father.

"Hey!"

Winters laughed.  "The child's showing promise already!"

Valhin snorted.  "*Your* son?"

Winters smirked.  "He's mine, too, you know."

"And mine!"

She just shrugged in reply.  "What do you want to call the girl?"

Valhin scowled at her and looked down at the dark haired child in his arms.  She 
stared serenely back up at him, ice blue eyes shining.  Winters's eyes.  Valhin 
snorted.  He might as well.  Girls didn't matter, anyways.  "We'll call her Amarth 
Turdae," he said.

The baby cooed and reached up to whack his chin again.

Her father growled and glared at Winters.  "What'd you do, whisper instructions to 
beat me senseless to them every night while you were pregnant?"

Winters laughed again.  "I did nothing of the sort, Mordin."

Valhin scowled at her, and the baby he was holding sneezed, then screwed her face 
up as if she were about to start crying-not that Valhin would have known what that 
meant, anyhow.

"I broke it!" he exclaimed in sudden fear of the worst.  Despite girls not being 
important, he still did not want his child to die in the first few hours of life-or, 
indeed, at all.

"Oh, for the Valar's sake!" Winters exclaimed in exasperation.  "Give her to me, and 
you can take the boy."

Valhin looked up.  "I can?"

Winters rolled her eyes and switched babies with him.

Valhin smiled down at his son, who smirked wickedly and squealed loud enough to 
make Valhin almost drop him.

"Don't drop him!" Winters snapped.  "Really, he can't do that much harm."

"He swuealed!" Valhin protested.  "He sounded just like an Orc!"

Winters rolled her eyes at his stupidity.  "All babies are loud.  Orcs are the only 
ones that don't learn to speak very well."

A scared look came over the son of Sauron.  "But, was it a happy squeal, or did 
I break him, too?"

"You can't break a baby unless it's a bone you broke.  He's probably just happy."

As if to confirm this, Seregthalion smiled, to which Valhin smiled back.

"He's cute!"  Valhin blinked, taking in the pale silver crowning the baby's head.  
"But, why doesn't he look like me?"  There was no reason, in Valhin's eyes, that 
any son he had wouldn't take after him in looks.  All of his previous children had 
looked like him down to the blazing gold eyes, save one, who had only shared his 
mother's hair color.

Winters shrugged absently.  "I suppose he takes after me, too.  But, he's 
certainly got your eyes, dear," she added with a smirk.

Valhin raised an eyebrow.  Dear, again.  "Does this mean you're going to be 
nicer to me?"  He held Seregthalion like a shield, in case she decided to 
reply in the resoundingly negative.

"A bit nicer, at least," Winters replied, much to his surprise.

He lowered the baby.  "Really?"

"Of course, if you lay one malicious finger on either one of the children, 
I'll be entitled to hurt you."  She hugged Turdae, who was snoring, to her.  
"But, yes, I will be nicer to you."

Valhin snorted at the very idea of his wanting to hurt either baby.  "Why 
would I do a stupid thing like that?  They're my children, too!"

"I'm just warning you," she said with a smile, and patted his cheek.  "Besides, 
you look much like Turdae, and she's adorable.  I can't possibly think of 
hurting you *that* much."

"She looks like me, you mean," he corrected.

Turdae sneezed at him.

"Of course," Winters agreed noncommitally.  She dabbed at her daughter's nose.

Valhin glanced down at the baby in his own arms, who was snoring slightly.  
"Um..." he ventured, and pointed at Seregthalion.  "What's he doing?"

"He sleeping," Winters replied.  "Babies sleep a lot, so that should settle well with you."

"Oh..." Valhin shrugged.  "Yeah, that works for me."

His only reply was that self-satisfied smirk.