1. Almost Perfect
I smiled as I woke up and opened my eyes, glancing around the room. The open architecture, the beautifully intricate carvings; there was only one place I could be. It worked! I thought excitedly, And if I'm really here, then I must have gotten the timing right as well.
Rivendell, Imladris, the Last Homely House, had no idea what it was in for. Apparently, neither did I.
I stretched languidly and rose to get up. Only then did I realize that I was not alone in my bed. Oh, this just gets better and better, I thought eagerly. Who was it? An elf? A man? A little of both? I felt giddy anticipation picturing whose bed I had ended up in. I rolled over and looked at the back of the man (because it did turn out to be a man) who was lying there, still peacefully sleeping. And then I screamed.
The man jumped at the sound of my blood-curdling yell and fell out of the bed. He stood up and turned angry eyes on me.
"What the hell?" he snapped, cranky from having been woken up so violently. I pointed a shaky finger at him.
"What are you doing here?" I demanded hoarsely. This was not right. This was most definitely not right.
"What do you mean, what am I…?" He started to ask and then looked around the room. His eyes got wide, a frightened expression on his face, and he turned back to me. "Where the hell are we?" he asked quietly.
Before I had a chance to answer, there was a knock at the door. I walked over to answer it and a beautiful elf, for she was an elf judging by the brightness of her eyes and the point of her ears, stepped into the room.
"Welcome to Imladris, miss," she said in clear English, and the part of me that actually cared about canon winced. The rabid fangurl, of course, smiled broadly.
"Thank you." I said with a small incline of my head. "May I ask how we came to be here?"
"You were both found at our border, lying on the ground unconscious. My father felt you should be brought here to be helped and questioned." The Elf smiled. "I am Arwen, daughter of Elrond, Lord of Imladris."
"Arwen?" the man walked up to stand besides me. "Why do I know that name?" I shushed him and turned back to Arwen.
"I am Arandil, and this," I gestured to the man, "is my husband, Justin."
"You are who?" Justin was looking at me with a why-are-you-so-weird look.
"Shut up for a second." I hissed at him urgently.
"Arandil, Justin, my father will wish to speak to you, but he is busy at the moment. There have come some visitors that need his attention." She smiled and tilted her head. "You are of many that appeared at our borders these past few days. Although," she laughed, a beautiful melodious sound, "the others all were awake and well when they arrived."
She gave a small courteous bow. "I shall come for you when he is ready. If you need anything, there are plenty of elves about that can help you." With that, she exited the room and I was left with my husband; my glaring, irate husband. I took a deep breath and turned to him. He was so not going to be happy about this.
"What did you tell her your name was? And where the hell are we? Did she just say elves?" His eyes narrowed. "Please tell me we're not where I'm beginning to think we are."
I grinned nervously at him. "Yup. We're kind of in Rivendell. In Middle Earth." I giggled. "Surprise!"
"Are you kidding me?" he asked, sounding quite irritated.
"No." Well, you know what; Justin may have ended up there too, but I wasn't going to let him ruin my fun. "We're in Rivendell. So let's go look around!"
"Oh, hell no." He shook his head. "I don't know why we're here, but I am not about to go wandering around some strange place where there are elves." I couldn't tell if he was frightened or just being stubborn. I tried to think of a way to convince him.
"Aren't you even the least bit curious to see Legolas?" I smiled sweetly at him. "See what he really looks like?" The prospect gave me excited chills.
"No." he said flatly.
"Aragorn? You said he kicked ass."
He pressed his lips together. "He kicked ass in a movie." He looked up, thinking about something for a moment and then smiled and looked at me. "Maybe I do want to see Frodo. I can tell him to get on the boat faster so my ass doesn't fall asleep."
I rolled my eyes and looked at the sky for patience. "That's super." I shook my head. "You know, I sent myself here so I could have fun, and you are not going to ruin it for me." It figures. I finally work out how to get myself into Middle Earth, and my anti-Tolkien husband has to end up tagging along.
"You sent yourself here?" he asked, frowning at me.
"Yes." I answered slowly, wary at his tone.
"You're responsible for us being here?"
"Yeah, but I have no clue why you're here. It was supposed to just be me."
"Great." He smiled, obviously not as offended by me wanting to run off to Middle Earth and cavort with elves without him as I would have expected. "Send me back then."
I looked at the ground and mumbled something that resembled 'I don't know how.'
"What?" he demanded. It was never a good thing, when his voice took on that tone.
"I kind of don't know how." I grinned meekly at him.
"Do you mean to tell me, you sent us here without a way to get back?" he yelled, which pisses me off every time.
"Ok, you know what," I finally snapped. "This was supposed to be my fantasy. And if you're going to yell at me, I don't want to talk to you anymore." I stuck chin out and smirked at him as I said my next words. "I'm going to go find Legolas. Maybe he can talk civilly to me."
"You don't know where he is." Justin answered with narrowed eyes. There was a dangerous warning tone to his voice.
"I'll find him." I snapped and ran out of the room before Justin could stop me.
Legolas was not hard to locate. I asked the first Elf I came across where I could find Legolas. Of course, much to my dismay and embarrassment, that Elf was Legolas. Try explaining to someone why you're looking for them when you obviously don't know who they are. Try doing that when your heart is beating at three times its normal rate.
So once I convinced him that I was completely harmless, that I had just heard of him and heard he was here, and wanted to see the much-talked-about best archer of Mirkwood (apparently male Elves are as susceptible to flattery as any man), he agreed to walk through the beautiful gardens of Rivendell with me.
Now, this was what I pictured, not screaming fights in the Last Homely Home with my husband. Justin. I felt a brief pang of guilt. I at least knew enough about this place to get by. Poor Justin, although dragged to the movies, knew little to nothing about Middle Earth, and even less about Elves. I would be terrified in his position.
But, my inner fangurl did not let my thoughts linger on Justin for more than a moment. In fact, I had almost forgotten about him until I heard his voice behind us.
Impressed that he remembered the name I gave Arwen, I smiled as I turned around. I saw, however, that Legolas did not.
"I'm sorry. I just …" he stopped what he was saying and eyed Legolas as if he just noticed him. "Wait. Who's this?"
"Justin, this is Legolas, son of Thranduil, Prince of Mirkwood." I turned to Legolas. "Legolas…this is Justin." Legolas put his fist to his chest in the Elven greeting. My husband, however, simply looked at the Elf with his jaw set.
"So you're the Legolas." I don't think I've ever seen my husband looking quite so…so…I don't know. Like a cave man defending his woman. "I've heard a lot of interesting stuff about you." he sneered at the Elf.
This was probably my fault, somehow. I mean, ever since the movies came out I had been all, "Legolas, this," and "Touch the pretty elf, that." I should have realized that although my husband was not a jealous man, if given the opportunity, he would get some of his own back. Still, I was not prepared for what happened next.
Legolas arched an elegant eyebrow, looking more dangerous than anybody that pretty should look. "Such as?" he asked, his voice cold as ice.
And then Justin, dear, sweet, understanding Justin, smirked at the famed Prince of Mirkwood. "Just that you and Gimli the Dwarf are quite a bit more than friends."
And suddenly, the Elven object of my inner luster's desire had an arrow pointed at my poor husband's throat.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.