1- Celebrian Giving Birth
It really should be Elrond in my position, Erestor thought unhappily. But no, Elrond had to take the easier job of Healer, sticking Erestor with holding Celebrian's hand while she was going through the birthing process. Erestor didn't blame Celebrian at all—he imagined that pushing out a watermelon-sized child was difficult work—no, he completely blamed her husband. And that Erestor was the one with his hand getting squeezed made no sense: Glorfindel was just outside the room, and his hands were much fatter—Erestor thought that they were positively mannish—so why were Erestor's delicate, bird-boned, quill-writing hands the ones that were being tortured?
Elrond had called Erestor in though, and like a fool, Erestor had come. Like a no-brained lap-dog, Erestor thought peevishly.
The grip on his hand increased painfully.
A high-pitched wailing filled the room, making Erestor wince.
"It's a boy." Elrond announced, quickly cleaning the child and handing it off to its mother—who had thankfully let go of Erestors hand. Erestor looked at the baby and kept his expression carefully blank. Its face was red and wrinkling, squished and deformed.
"He's beautiful." Celebrian breathed.
No he's not, Erestor thought privately. He looks worse than my hand feels: positively ghastly.
"I know." Elrond agreed, looking down at his wife and dark haired son with an enamoured expression. "His name?"
"Elladan." She gave a besotted smile before her features contorted in pain. "Elrond! Another is coming!" She grabbed Erestor's hand again—he almost groaned aloud: he had just earned some relief. Elrond called orders to his assistants and rushed to get more supplies and basically acted like a chicken with its head cut off while Erestor was being tortured! And it was all because of him!
Celebrian screamed again—something about it being all Elrond's fault, with which Erestor completely agreed—but he was too busy with the fact that a Troll was sitting on his hand, slowly squishing it into jelly. So slowly.
There was a crack that reverberated through Erestor's arm up to his throbbing skull—all the screaming was giving him a headache—but nobody paid any mind to his plight, because at that same moment another wailing, identical to the last, erupted from a tiny set of lungs that were obviously in top condition. Celebrian fell back onto the pillows behind her, even more exhausted then before, while Elrond repeated the same cleaning process as with Elladan, and handed the new terror—Erestor's thoughts were quickly getting more and more uncharitable—to the mother, who had not even let go of the first baby.
While Elladan had been 'beautiful,' the second child—Elrohir, they named him—was decided to be 'handsome.' The twice-new parents cooed and awed over their children, but as Erestor walked from the room, cradling his broken hand-knuckles-fingers, amazed that he had not made it so the first words the twins heard were vulgar, all he thought about the second born was,
He looks overcooked.