2. Book Legolas and the Misdirected Luster
I watched in horror as the bow was pulled tighter. I have to say, I was immensely impressed with my husband who held Legolas's gaze with a stony cold stare of his own. I personally would have started blubbering like a baby by this point.
"You're a real brave elven warrior." Justin said through clenched teeth. "Threatening an unarmed man." I covered my eyes, sure that any moment that arrow was going to be loosed. Surprisingly enough, when I looked back at the two of them, Legolas was lowering his bow.
"Forgive me. We are not fond of dwarves where I am from." Justin furrowed his brow, looking confused, and opened his mouth to say something else. Luckily I caught his eye and shook my head, trying to give him a "just let it go" look. He frowned at me, but let the matter drop. Crisis averted. Thank goodness.
All of a sudden, a flash of something that looked like recognition crossed Justin's face and he smiled at Legolas. I watched nervously.
"Wait. You're Legolas." He made archery motions with his hand. "You're that awesome archer."
Legolas didn't answer. He blinked twice at Justin. If those blinks could talk they would be saying, "Of course I'm an archer. I just had an arrow pointed at your neck, you idiot." However, Legolas remained silent. Justin did not.
"That was so cool how you rapid fired at all those orcs. And then you shot the two arrows at once." His eyes got wide like a kid on Christmas. "Hey, do you think you could teach me how to do that?"
"That I could," Legolas said. "I could demonstrate to that tree as well and we shall see who the makes the quicker study."
Justin frowned and I think he realized that he was just kind of insulted, but he didn't have a chance to react. I had already picked up on the dry wit and clapped my hands excitedly.
"He's book Legolas, Justin! Book Legolas!" I grinned and bounced.
"He's what?" There was that you're-so-weird look again.
"Hang on." I turned to Legolas who was giving me a look that frighteningly resembled Justin's. "How many knives do you have?" He frowned at me. "Knives! Knives!" I made a motion like I was swinging a knife around in battle. Well, I made a motion like I supposed you would swing a knife in battle, since I had no actual knife-fighting experience. It was good enough for him to understand.
"I need but one."
"HA!" I shouted, causing him to jump back with a startled expression on his face. I jumped around to face Justin. "He's book Legolas." I began to do my happy dance, singsonging, "He's book Legolaaaaaaaas. He's book Legolaaaaaaaas." Over and over.
Now, for those of you who are wondering what the happy dance is, I will try my best to explain. First, I jump from one foot to the other and back, in a skip-like way. This is done in a manner where the knees always come up to at least the hip. While all this skip-hopping is going on, I am rotating around my own axis at the rate of about one rotation per three skips. In the meantime, I am also orbiting around my husband at the rate of about one circle every five rotations (or one orbit every fifteen skips).
It's quite aerobic.
It's also quite a site for the uninitiated. Poor Legolas had no idea what was going on. He turned helplessly to my husband.
"I'm book Legolas?" he asked in a small frightened tone that no elven warrior should ever have to use.
"I have no idea, dude." Justin said sympathetically, shaking his head slowly.
In a complete change of mood, Legolas clapped Justin on the back with a smile. "Then, perhaps in the time it takes to figure her out, I shall indeed teach you to shoot two arrows at once."
The happy dance abruptly stopped and I stood watching as my elven lust object and my husband walked down the path together to go play with arrows.
To say I was upset would be the understatement of the year. This was so unfair. I wanted to come to Middle Earth. Legolas was supposed to be giving archery lessons to me. How did this happen? How did this get so screwed up?
I wandered around the gardens of Rivendell until I found a tree suitable for my need. I sat down at the base and curled my knees in to my chest, leaning my head back against the trunk. I had just about got a good sulk going when I heard a smoothly sensuous voice from down the path.
"There you are, Arandil."
I jumped up and looked around eagerly. If the body was anything like the voice I was in for a real treat. I was not disappointed. Up walked an elf, for he had the bright eyes and chiseled features of the Eldar, who looked more like a man than I had expected any elf to look. His long raven hair fell over broad muscular shoulders and his grey eyes bored right into me. He was wearing a simple tunic and pants, but they accentuated his body so well, I couldn't help but stare.
Now, Legolas had a nice body, almost feline in its movement and shape. But where Legolas was built like a lean strong willow branch, this Elf was broad and muscled. Wait. Did I say that already? Well, I'm sorry, but you had to have seen this guy. Wow.
Anyway, I tried to get my inner fangurl to stop drooling long enough for me to put together a coherent sentence. I wondered what I could say with my pulse so raised and my face so flushed that would not sound completely silly. For a few minutes all I could do was smile up at the breathtakingly handsome face and resist the urge to reach out and touch him. There was only one person this could be. Well, one of two people. I was looking at one of the sons of Elrond.
Finally I managed a response to his initial statement. "Yes." Brilliant, I know. I did manage to smile with my mouth shut though.
"I sent my daughter looking for you, but you were not in your room. I'm glad to have found you."
I blinked. I blinked again. I didn't recall Elladan or Elrohir having a daughter. "Your daughter?" I questioned.
"Arwen did speak to you before, did she not?" My eyes grew wide and if I thought my heart was beating fast before, it was nothing compared to what it was doing now. Arwen absolutely could not be his daughter because this fine specimen of peredhel in front of me could not be Elrond. Elrond was old; he was not this drop dead gorgeous stud of a man in front of me. I supposed I realized that Legolas was also old, but relatively, in Elven terms, Elrond was very old.
"Arwen is your daughter?" It was dazzling conversation to be sure. "No!" My mind protested along with my voice. "You're not Elrond."
He bowed respectfully. "I am. And there is much I would like to speak with you about."
I was a torn woman. Part of me was transfixed by the amazing good looks of the man standing in front of me. The other part was horrified that my heart was getting so fluttery over Lord Elrond. There was seriously something wrong with me.
"Are you sure you're Elrond?" I asked, smiling shyly at him.
He smiled back at me and I thought I might faint. From the smile or from the shock of the whole situation I didn't know which. "Quite sure." He answered.
"But you're so young." In reality, I was so young, probably nothing more than a child to him, but he looked no older than I did. "And you're not wearing robes!" I knew there was something else that was a bit off about the whole thing.
"Why would I wear robes when walking in the gardens?" he asked simply. "And as for my age, I assure you, I have seen more lives of men pass than you can possibly fathom."
"Very well," I finally conceded. "Lead the way and we shall go talk." I pushed all the dirty thoughts out of my head, thoroughly berating myself for thinking those things about the Lord of Imladris. It was one thing to lust after his sons, but this was wholly different.
He extended his arm to me and I slipped mine through his. We walked through Rivendell towards the buildings and all thoughts of Justin and that other wood-elf guy were forgotten.
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.