DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN IT. PLEASE DO NOT SUE ME. THANKS.
Please do not take this story seriously. This is just sheer and utter insanity written to celebrate my first ever Fanfiction birthday. I am one year old today(score!).
Ok, here's the stats:
Total words archived: 106,235
Total reviews personally written: 334
Total reviews received: 243(roughly, I never pretended to be good at math)
Total views to profile page: 993
Total stories written: 26
And now...on to the ridiculous, hopelessly AU and OOC story...
"Beren! Beren, darling, haven't you heard!" a sweet, shrill Snow-white-style voice tittered excitedly from outside the kitchen door, interrupting Beren as he was trying to make dinner(Luthien's dinners had already been the death of nine of Beren's favorite courtiers, he had only survived because of the strength of his noble lineage, and barely at that, hence, he insisted on making the food).
"What haven't I heard?" he replied disinterestedly, making a frowny-face out of sour cream on the top of the dish of soup he had just finished, chock-full of the uber-healthy-paleo-organic ingredients Luthien insisted on.
"Why, it's ThurinRanger's birthday today!"
"Fabulous." Beren muttered, wondering who ThurinRanger was and why he should care(Beren has been sadly neglected by ThurinRanger in his/her writing, unfortunately).
"Which is why you need to make him/her some of your delicious sugar-free carrot-cake muffins, with low-fat cream-cheese icing! And maybe a pitcher full of green smoothie on the side!"
Beren felt ill. Being married to the prettiest most sought-after woman in Middle Earth came with its consequences. He should have done his research before falling in love with her.
"Come on, Beren! Glorfindel sent out a text to everyone with the news! They're going to throw a big party!"
"Who are they?" Beren asked disinterestedly, beginning to chop the carrots(a rather hard thing to do with only one hand).
"Why, the Valar of course! They throw fabulous parties! Oh, if you're gonna take forever on those muffins, I'll just hitch a ride with Daeron, he sent me a message five minutes ago saying he would pick me up, gotta love how ex-boyfriends do stuff like that. Catch ya' later, alligator!" Luthien called in her most fabulous valley girl voice, wrapping a glittery neon blue feather boa around her neck as she hurried outside and hopped into Daeron's bright red convertible, blowing a deflated Beren a kiss as they sped away.
Beren counted to twenty-five very slowly, before ripping off Luthien's CuteKitten apron and sprinting to the nearest fast-food joint.
() () ()
"WELCOME TO THURINRANGER'S BIRTHDAY PARTY!" a loud and commanding voice(probably Saruman's)blared over the loudspeakers, welcoming the guests as they entered the party room.
There were flashing colored lights, a spinning disco-ball, live music(somehow they had managed to get Legolas to come over to perform his hit-single, 'They're Taking the Hobbits To Isengard' before a mob of screaming fans. Thranduil, Legolas' father, was currently very busy signing autographs and taking pictures with the hordes of Legsie fans.), tables full of refreshments(including a cake made out of Lembas-flour, curtesy of Melian), and a card-board cut-out of Feanor to take pictures with(this was not the wisest choice, as it was currently being vandalized and abused by a group of murderous, re-born Teleri).
"This is so cool! I love parties!" Elladan screamed over the blaring music, stuffing a piece of low-calorie honey-cake into his mouth before Elrohir could swipe it.
"Cool? Hah! I liked ThurinRanger just fine, that is, until s/he put me to Avril Lavigne music! Besides, s/he stole my nickname!" Turin grumbled in irritation from where he stood in line for a picture with the new cardboard cutout(the Feanor one had been carried away to be further mutilated by said murderous reborn Teleri)of a sunnily smiling Gil-Galad, a far more popular decision.
"Well I like him/her," butted in Fingon, dragging a partially-drunk Maedhros along with him, "Nelyo and I, we're his/her favorite characters(along with Glorfy! ~Thurin)! Bet you can't say the same, Turin! Why would s/he have reason to like you, anyway? I hear you married your own sister! Shocking!"
"Well you're one to talk, Prince of the Noldor." Turin grumbled in response, smiling evilly.
"Whatever do you mean?" Fingon gasped, covering the random little Gondorian girl nearby's ears as Turin explained.
"Ever heard of a little something called Russingon?"
"Break it up, break it up, you two!" a very irritated and overworked Maia ordered, trying to pull the fighting man and Elf apart with some difficulty. In the end, he had to resort to the taser-gun at his hip.
"Faramir, where do you think he got that taser-gun?" Eowyn whispered excitedly into her husband's ear from where they were boogying on the dance-floor, gesturing to the taser-gun he had just put to good use.
"Why would you care?" Faramir asked nervously, hoping his wife wasn't thinking what he thought she was.
"How much do you think one of those things costs?" she asked, ignoring his question as she began to weave through the crowd, making her way over to the smug taser-gun-bearing Maia who was currently yakking it up with the ladies as he downed another glass of punch.
"WILL EVERYONE PLEASE PROCEED TO THE PICNIC TABLES FOR CAKE AND A HAPPY BIRTHDAY SONG, THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION." the loudspeaker(definitely Saruman)announced, causing the crowd of Elves, Dwarves, Men, Hobbits, and more questionable creatures of dark origins(Mairon fell into this category, as the taser-bearing Maiar refused to have him counted among their number) to hurry over to the picnic tables(the Maiar had some serious trouble keeping everyone under control, Random Elf 2 and Random Dwarf 37 were trampled), eager for cake.
"And now, let us all sing 'Happy Birthday' together!" Manwe cried from where he stood by the delicious looking Lembas-flour cake, bedecked in his most fabulously sparkly pair of party-robes.
So they sang.
"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Thurin! Happy Birthday to you!"
The song(though enthusiastically sung)was rather hard to understand, partly because of the fact that many of the Hobbits present were adding a 'chachacha' at all the appropriate points, and partly because of every Feanorian in the room yelling the 'th' in 'Birthday' and 'Thurin' at the top of their lungs, causing confusion and strife(several fistfights broke out during the 'Happy Birthday' song, unfortunately. Those poor Maiar were kept busy at that party).
"Now," proclaimed Manwe loudly after the song was over, in an attempt to silence all the sounds of scuffling from within the crowd, "if Thurin him/herself would please step forward and make the honorary birthday speech. Ahem, Thurin? Where is s/he?"
At this the room went into an uproar as everyone turned to the person next to them and asked if they had seen Thurin. Nobody had.
"Glorfindel," asked Manwe tiredly, turning to the embarrassed Balrog-Slayer, "you didn't forget to text Thurin to invite him/her too, did you?"
All eyes turned to Glorfindel, who was by now blushing fiercely at the unwanted attention.
"I...well...you see...s/he blocked me some time ago. S/he said s/he finds me quite obnoxious and distracting, and that with me around s/he'ed never get any writing done. I thought s/he would know what day was his/her birthday, for goodness sakes! I have two birthday's to remember, and I manage! S/he should be able to do one!"
"Does anyone know where s/he lives?" Manwe sighed, pushing the spluttering Glorfindel off the stage and raising his eyebrows expectantly at the party-goers before him.
"Oh, I know!" called a random green-elf, who was, interestingly enough, Thurin's next-door neighbor, "S/he lives in a super-secret treehouse next to mine in Ossiriand."
"Will you lead us to it?"
"Well, it's a secret treehouse, after all. S/he swore me to secrecy, and said that if I revealed the exact location of his/her secret treehouse s/he would personally kinslay me." he squeaked, trying his utmost to avoid Manwe's threatening gaze.
"Lead us there. Or else."
() () ()
"Thurin, we know you're up there, come down!" Manwe called from the base of the tall elm tree, tapping his watch with irritation.
"No!" came a muffled voice from somewhere inside the leaves, sounding equally irritated.
"But today's your birthday! How could you have forgotten, you stupid mortal/green-elf/whateveryouarenow!"
"What?!" s/he cried in surprise, and a sheepish head partially covered by a blue beanie with three pretend Silmarils stitched on it popped out of the treehouse window, smiling apologetically at the miffed crowd below. "Sorry, I forgot."
"MY SILMARILS!" Feanor shrieked as his crazed eyes fell upon the obviously fake Silmarils sewn unto his/her beanie, attempting to climb the tree right then and there.
"Shut up, Feanor."
"Who let him in here, anyway?"
After he was dragged away screaming by the overworked Maiar, Thurin ventured:
"Just let me finish this chapter first maybe?"
"YOU'RE TOTALLY ADDICTED! JUST GET DOWN HERE, WE ALL WANT TO EAT THE LEMBAS-FLOUR CAKE AND WE CAN'T UNTIL YOU BLOW OUT THE CANDLE!"
"Ooh, Lembas-flour cake? One second, I need to change out of this bathrobe and into real clothes first..."
~fin~
Yes, I write in a bathrobe. Don't ask.
Ok...
When Turin refers to me putting him to an Avril Lavigne song, he is referring to the instance in my drabble collection 'A Hundred Pieces of Colored Cloth', in which I prescribe the AL song 'Innocence' to go with him in a certain drabble I wrote, heh heh. Also, when he says I stole his nickname, he is referring to an instance in The Children of Hurin, where Finduilas gives him the nickname 'Thurin'. Yup. I stole it, muahahahaha... Sorry Turin. :)
Anyways, hope you enjoyed! Please review and tell me what you thought!
Thanks and have a great day,
~Thurin