A Man Who Flies From His Fear May Find He Has Only Taken A Shortcut To Meet It by LadySternchen  

Vomiting- Lúthien

“I can’t, Beren, please don’t make me.”

Lúthien pushes the bowl of stew away from her, catching the terrified look on Beren’s face.

“I am sorry, love…”

Beren thankfully puts the bowl to the side, where Lúthien cannot see it. She can still smell the stew, though, and as it is, she can barely keep herself from retching.

“Lúthien, you need to eat and drink. You are not immortal anymore.”

“Elves need to eat and drink…” she says tiredly, closing her eyes again and lying back on her bed.

“Please, beloved, try. You cannot nourish the little one if you do not take any nourishment yourself. ‘Tis but a stew of barley and carrots-“

“Don’t!” Lúthien wails, clutching her stomach.

The mere thought of the ingredients makes her swallow desperately, to keep herself from vomiting the little water that Beren has succeeded in making her take earlier.

“I think you are so sick because you are not eating. Hunger makes it worse. Mother was terribly sick for weeks when she bore Híril, and my father would always make sure that she ate before she even rose from bed.”

“But if I do not eat, I will not throw up.”

Lúthien’s heart starts racing even thinking about it. She has never known about such a thing as vomiting before becoming mortal. Yes, maybe there were the sympathetic whispers of the healers about poisoned wardens, but most surely not something that ailed expecting mothers. Really, she would gladly die here and now, together with her unborn child, than throw up one more time.