4. Knock Before Opening the Bathroom Door
Knock Before Opening the Bathroom Door
Life at my house is never dull. Not since I found Legs on the front porch and elves in my closets. Insane might be a better term for it, but I wouldn't trade it for the world.
It was not long after Glorfindel moved in, donned a pair of silky blue boxers, and parked his arse on my sofa reading the paper and sipping coffee *takes moment to gaze longingly at golden-haired Adonis in my living room* that there came a thump from the bathroom. Now, being a slow learner and immensely stupid at times, I slunk off to investigate this latest sound. (I've warned you not to open doors, haven't I?) I've since learned that thumps and bumps should be ignored at all costs. Trust me on this.
Up until then I'd only heard sounds coming from the closet, so the sound of rustling in the bathroom had me a bit concerned. But since Glorfindel was on the sofa, Gimli was in the kitchen baking cookies and Legolas was out back practicing his archery, I figured it had to be someone new who had simply shown up in a different locale, rather than someone using the facilities. And the sound of rustling made me think that at least whoever had shown up had arrived with clothing this time.
I crept up on the door, and eased the door open just enough to peer through the crack, in the hopes of learning just who had turned up this time. To my astonishment, I found the LAST elf I ever expected to show up at my house.
Really. It was him! Golden hair and everything! (and I DO mean EVERYTHING!) And yes, as I'd suspected, he had arrived with clothing. Too bad he wasn't quite wearing them…
Another piece of advice I must offer: When in doubt about who is in the bathroom and what they might be doing, KNOCK before opening the door!
So there I was, peering in the bathroom door at Thranduil. The door swung open (I must have bumped it when my hand flew up to my mouth to stifle my gasp), and all I could do was gape and stare in disbelief at the Elvenking himself, in MY house, in MY bathroom, sitting on MY TOILET!!!
I must pause here and state that for those of you who have wondered, yes, they DO, um, oh, never mind. But if you are visited by elves you might want to have some extra air freshener on hand. Trust me on this. I suggest forest scent. I would also like to take a moment to recommend that you never walk in on an elven lord in the bathroom. You simply do not want to catch one with their pants down around their ankles, especially not one like Thranduil. My ears are still ringing from the screams (did you know elven lords scream like little girls?) and I'm certain I had a concussion from the blow dryer he threw at my head. And I'm almost sure that I caught a glimpse of white silk boxers with red hearts, but maybe it was just my imagination, or due to the lump on my head.
I apologized profusely and slammed the door, leaving him to his business, and eventually, he came out and after his face returned to its normal shade of pale from the bright red it had been, he forgave me — but only after I promised him access to my wine and assured him that while Legolas and Gimli share a room, they do NOT share a bed. (In all honesty, I don't know what goes on in that room after the door is shut, and I really don't want to know. But no way was I going to admit that to the princeling's FATHER, nor to Glóin who showed up in the laundry room shortly thereafter.)
There is one downfall of having the Elvenking in your house, especially if you have offered him free access to your liquor. You need to watch where you step, especially in the dark. I'll never forget the night after a vigorous…er, snuggle with Glorfindel that I felt parched and went to get a drink of water in the middle of the night and tripped over something in the dark. Flipping on a light, I discovered something shocking: Thranduil flat on his face in a drunken stupor in the middle of the kitchen. That was disconcerting enough, but realizing he was naked and laying partially on an equally unclothed Glóin with a bottle of chocolate syrup in his hand was… Well, I'd rather forget that, and I'm certain Thranduil is glad he cannot remember it.
Glóin just grins like a fool.
Legolas and Gimli quickly insisted that their fathers only come for short visits and not become permanent residents. I happily agreed, but my wine still goes missing. So long as I'm not tripping over naked elven kings (or dwarves) in my kitchen, I won't complain too much.
It was not long after Thranduil and Glóin showed up that I heard something else coming from my bedroom. Not a thump, so much as a hum and a rustle and the sounds of…organization? I had begun to show some sense by this point, and instead of opening the closet door, went in search of Glory. He took me in his arms, kissed me and assured me that I was under no obligation to release whoever else had turned up.
Then the conniving elf so totally betrayed me by doing it himself!
Elves are sneaky like that, though of course, he denied it, stating that the elf in question let himself out. I can't complain too much. My house has never been so organized. My books are alphabetized and my kitchen shelves are labeled. And my bathroom has never been cleaner since Erestor showed up. And he doesn't only clean. Oh no, he shares cooking duties with Gimli, and makes some of the best spiced wine I've ever tasted!
But like everyone else who has shown up at my house, he is not without his quirks. The pristine Chief Councilor of Imladris, the immaculate librarian and Elrond's right hand man, it turns out has something of a WWF addiction. Whodathunkit? Erestor? Watching Wrestling? With Gimli no less! And in bike shorts! Black of course.
But while that is somewhat disturbing, I must say he makes a mean shrimp dip that goes great with the spiced wine.
To Be Continued…
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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.