System Error: The Quest For Celeborn's Coffee
Celeborn stalked about the other side of the boxlike device and plotted out the precise angle he would have to kick it to make the infernal thing work.Violence always saved one the trouble of thinking about things, and violence against technology was a particularly satisfying brand of mindlessless. His concentration was broken when it beeped quite suddenly, prompting him to jump back and glare at it balefully.
Haldir has said something about the 'Blue Screen of Death', but evidently the miserable bastard hadn't told him quite how to get rid of it. Such was the way of things these days, when humans advanced with complicated electrical inventions daily, intruding upon his little bubble of computer-free bliss. His servants had to explain things to him now. He felt so inescapably old.
Typewriters were complicated enough, Celeborn fumed. Now they had the nerve to come up with something more convoluted than his wife's political wordplay.
Life certainly wasn't fair. He was almost beginning to regret his decision to remain on Middle Earth and live through the centuries and watch the Second Born delude themselves as to the history of the world and hurl large bombs repeatedly at each other. This part of cultural development rather amused the Lord, but then electricity was harnessed and suddenly there came an Evil perhaps greater than Morgoth himself:
Technology.
Terrifying concept really, regardless about what his bodyguard and resident technie would tell him. Computers were most certainly not entertaining, interesting and fun. They were evil, dirty and something to be destroyed. Strangely enough, Celeborn could not remember a single incident where Haldir had been kidnapped and brainwashed by the humans.
'I may be forced to do it myself,' he muttered, venturing near it again after making certain it hadn't eaten any kittens in the split second he had looked away. It predictably squawked and he leapt backward into a crouch, staring at it dangerously through slitted eyes.
'What in the Void are you doing, my Lord?'
Celeborn flushed angrily and glared up at Haldir's amused face. 'It stopped working,' he snapped. 'What does it look like?'
'It looks like you've lost your mind and have degenerated into Orc status,' Haldir laughed, setting down his coffee, taking off his headphones and sitting down at the desk to peer at the open laptop. He turned to regard his simmering Lord with a look of pity. 'Did you even read all of this? See,' he pointed at the bottom of the screen. 'Ctrl-Alt-Del. That does mean something to you, right?'
He was hit by a stony stare. 'Guess not. Look, they're keys on the keyboard here, and if you press them all together - like this - the evil Screen will go away. Wasn't that easy?'
Celeborn blew hair out of his face with a resigned sigh. 'You talk to me as though I were a houseplant.'
Haldir ran a hand through his short cropped hair, still gloating over the fact he had gotten away with dyeing it such a bright shade of red and not been eaten alive by his traditionalist brothers. They were still braiding their hair in the old ways and wearing clothing that conformed to their delicate Silvan sensibilities. Well, Haldir was just as Silvan as they, but he could appreciate punk culture and other positively fascinating things like that. Humans really were amazing creatures sometimes. When they weren't killing each other.
His Lord was another interesting thing. For all his fierceness about keeping in touch with the world as it was today, he really had the computer skills of a half squashed gnat. Not be cruel, of course, but it was true. Celeborn was a savvy businessman who could talk his way out of just about anything. He knew the ins and outs of nearly any weapon modern Man had created and could wire a building to complete annihilation in five minutes flat.
The only problem lay in the fact that the former Lord of Lorien could not even turn on a PC without working himself into a frothing rage. He and Elrond's spawn did what they could to keep Celeborn afloat when he had no other choice but to use the computer, but it was doubtful he would ever develop any skill whatsoever.
'My Lord Aspidistra, would you like some coffee, or would you glare at me until such time as I explode into flame?' Haldir's expression was one of evil trained to innocence. Celeborn frowned at him, but nodded.
The former Marchwarden began to trot out of the room, but didn't quite forget to pose in the doorway. 'My quest begins this hour! I shall need the very blessings of Elbe -'
'GET OUT!'
'Yes, m'Lord.' Haldir backed out quickly and began the swift march toward the kitchen, humming 'The Biggest Aspidistra In The World'. The Twins usually grabbed the coffee after he had taken the first cup and he would never see it again until it suddenly showed up in the dishwasher. Empty, of course. They did it to spite him, and probably got paid by Orophin to do it, too. Haldir's eldest brother thought his love of caffeine was a highly dangerous sport and made every attempt to stop any consumption of the 'foul brew'.
But there it was! Right there on the counter sat the fat black pot, still steaming. Unfortunately, Elrohir was sitting right next to it, grinning in a most unsettling way.
'Wave your white flag, Peredhel. Celeborn wants that sacred liquid you're currently tainting with your presence,' Haldir hissed.
Elrohir tossed his black hair. 'Our esteemed leader can do without, though there's evidence that you've already taken your ration. He can drink that. But,' he looked positively sickened with pity, 'that shall mean you have to drink water!'
'Very funny. Give it up, or face the consequences.'
'What are you going to do, spank me? I'm bigger than you, puny Silvan.' He poured an ample cup of the rich coffee with a self-satisfied smirk.
Haldir crossed his arms, splaying his feet to shoulder width. 'What you do on your own time with Elladan has nothing to do with the punishment I will exact upon your snivelling carcass.'
'Them is fighting words!' Elrohir crowed. 'Come and get the brew, Bleach Job. This shall be a battle to remember!'
An imposing shadow darkened the doorway, and both combatants held their breath, turning to regard the Evil gathering it's scarves around itself. Rumil, suitably attired, flounced past Elrohir and snatched the pot from the counter and moved back towards the door. 'You two are absolute children. How many thousand years have you fools lived, yet you still bicker like starving chicks just out of the shell. A battle? How barbaric.'
'My love for you is great, too, brother,' Haldir called after him. 'Do take some to Aspidistra.'
Elrohir looked distinctly put out and slithered off the countertop with his mug. 'Who's that?'
Rumil's head snaked back around the doorframe. 'Yes, brother of mine, who?'
'Celeborn. He mentioned that when I explain computers to him, I talk to him like he's a houseplant.' Haldir shrugged and opened a cupboard to rummage around for food.
Rumil's glance was withering. 'Aspidistra. You could have been more creative, you know. They aren't very attractive.'
Elrohir was on him in a flash. 'So you think Celeborn's attractive enough to merit a prettier plant, hm?'
'No, I think you should go to -'
'When's the wedding? Can I wear a spandex suit?'
The Silvan struggled violently, almost making Haldir feel guilty enough to save his poor brother. 'Almost' being the operative word, of course. Rumil's face had gone red and he looked ready to beat the Half-Elf until there was little left but a greasy red stain on the carpet. 'NO! I merely find -'
'Celeborn absolutely dashing, right? No, really. When's the wedding?'
'I'll kill you, vile Noldo!'
'I'm not actually a member of that club, you know. If I was, then I'm also Maia and can therefore lightning bolt you!'
Haldir rolled his eyes and left with the coffeepot and a mug for Celeborn, leaving the two to bicker incoherently. When he got back to the office, Celeborn swiftly drained the entire pot. It was going to be a long day.
'Have you seen that other monster of Elrond's yet today?' Celeborn asked idly. Haldir froze and stared down at him.
The pair looked at each other silently, fingers of dread crawling up their spines.