A/N: This Christmas, boys and girls, I bring you...the unspeakable offspring of The Hobbit and Oscar Wilde's Salomé! It will probably amuse only the two-and-a-half people out there who are into both, and I apologise profulsely for this monstrosity.
It was sparked off by the wonderful Peckish Owl's Oakentoon 77 on DeviantArt, which started a ghastly and unstoppable series of mental associations; and this is the end result.
Just had to get it out of my system. Sorry about that.
Enjoy!
MIRKWOOD GOES WILDE!
A shameless Tolkien/Oscar Wilde crossover
A guard-room in the palace of the Elvenking. To the right, the cells. To the left, the banqueting-hall.
LEGOLAS, gazing into the banqueting-hall: How fair is the lady Arwen tonight!
TAURIEL: You should not look at her like that.
Noise from within the banqueting-hall.
1ST GUARD: The King holds his revels tonight.
2ND GUARD: They say he is fond of wine.
THE VOICE OF THORIN OAKENSHIELD from within the cells: We are the Dwarves of Erebor, and we have come to reclaim our homeland!
1ST GUARD: Who was that?
2ND GUARD: A Dwarf.
1ST GUARD: What is his name?
2ND GUARD: Thorin Oakenshield.
1ST GUARD: Whence came he?
2ND GUARD: From Ered Luin. A great multitude of fangirls was ever following him.
LEGOLAS, gazing into the banqueting-hall: How fair is the lady Arwen tonight!
TAURIEL: You are always looking at her. You must not look at her. Something terrible will happen.
LEGOLAS: How pale the lady Arwen is! She is like a white flower in the moonlight.
Enter Arwen.
ARWEN: I will not stay. Why does the King look at me the way he does?
LEGOLAS: My lady, will you be seated?
TAURIEL: Why do you speak to her? Something terrible will happen.
ARWEN: I would stay here. Inside the Elf-Lords drink and drink in their shimmering silks, but their speech is coarse. I do not like the way they look at me. How I hate them! I shall stay here. Here it is quiet.
THE VOICE OF THORIN OAKENSHIELD from within: Do not presume to stop us, for the Heir of Durin has come!
ARWEN: Who is that who spoke?
1st GUARD: The Dwarf, my lady.
ARWEN: Ah, the Dwarf! He of whom the King is afraid?
1ST GUARD: I know nothing of that, my lady.
ARWEN: He says terrible things about the King, does he not?
LEGOLAS: My lady, will you not go back to the feast?
ARWEN: This Dwarf, is he very old?
1st GUARD: No, my lady, he is still young.
THE VOICE OF THORIN OAKENSHIELD from within: Free us, and let us go, for the Day of Durin is at hand!
ARWEN: What a strange voice. I would speak with him.
1st GUARD: It is impossible, my lady.
ARWEN: Bring him forth!
LEGOLAS: My lady, the King has forbidden it.
ARWEN: Ah! You will do this for me, Legolas. I know you will do this for me. And tomorrow, maybe I shall smile at you.
LEGOLAS: My lady, I cannot!
ARWEN: You will do this for me, Legolas. And tomorrow, as I pass by the court of the fountain, I shall let fall for you a little green flower.
LEGOLAS: Let the Dwarf be brought forth! The lady Arwen wishes to see him!
ARWEN: Ah!
TAURIEL: Something terrible will happen!
Thorin is brought out of the cells.
THORIN OAKENSHIELD: Where is he, who reclines on cushions drinking wine from a golden cup? Where is he, who stood by and did nothing when Erebor burned? Bid him rise from his debauchery, and come forth!
ARWEN: He is terrible!
LEGOLAS: My lady, do no stay here, I beseech you.
THORIN OAKENSHIELD: Where is he, who preens in a robe of silver, and in a crown of leaves? He shall behold the wrath of the Dwarves. For lo! The heir of Durin has returned, and he shall come into his own!
ARWEN: His eyes are terrible. He is like a statue carven in stone. I would look closer at him.
LEGOLAS: No, no, my lady!
THORIN OAKENSHIELD: Who is this woman looking at me? I will not have her look at me.
ARWEN: I am Arwen, Daughter of Elrond, lady of Imladris.
THORIN OAKENSHIELD: Begone, She-Elf! Thy kin are naught but traitors and thieves. Come not near the Heir of Durin!
ARWEN: Speak again, Thorin Oakenshield. Thy voice is like wine!
LEGOLAS: My lady!
ARWEN: Thorin Oakenshield! I am enamoured of thy hair! Thy hair is as black as the caverns beneath the mountains, that are never touched by daylight. The ebony of our Elven bows is not as black as thy hair. Thy hair is blacker than the silence of Mirkwood. There is nothing in the world so black as your hair…Let me touch your hair.
THORIN OAKENSHIELD: Back, daughter of Rivendell! Touch not the prince of the Dwarves!
ARWEN: Thy hair is horrible! It is full of spider-webs. It is covered in mire and dust. I love not thy hair… Let me kiss thy mouth.
THORIN OAKNSHIELD: Never, She-Elf. Never.
ARWEN: Let me kiss thy mouth, Thorin Oakenshield!
LEGOLAS: My lady, do not say such things! I cannot bear it.
ARWEN: Let me kiss thy mouth, Thorin Oakenshield!
Legolas kills himself.
ARWEN: I will kiss thy mouth, Thorin Oakenshield!
THORIN OAKENSHIELD: I will not look at thee. Thou art accursed, Arwen. Thou art accursed!
Thorin returns to his cell.
TAURIEL: Alas, Legolas has killed himself! He was my friend. His voice was like a flute. We used to walk by the river together, and he loved to gaze at his reflection.
1st GUARD: We should hide the body. The King does not like to see dead bodies, save those he has slain himself.
Enter Thranduil and his court.
THRANDUIL: Where is Arwen? Why did she not return to the feast as I commanded? Ah, there she is!
GALADRIEL: Do not look at her. You are always looking at her.
THRANDUIL: We will stay here. Bring more wine! Ah! I have slipped! I have slipped in blood. That is an ill omen. Whence comes this blood?
1st GUARD: It is Legolas. He killed himself.
THRANDUIL: That is ridiculous. But I remember that he looked languorously at Arwen.
GALADRIEL: There are others who look at her too much.
THRANDUIL: Take the body away! Bring more wine! Arwen, drink with me. Dip your little red lips into the wine, and I shall drain the cup.
ARWEN: I am not thirsty, my King.
GALADRIEL: Ha! You see how she answers you?
THRANDUIL: Bring me fruit! Arwen, come and eat fruit with me. I love to see the mark of your teeth in a ripe fruit. Take but one bite, and I will eat the rest.
ARWEN: I am not hungry, my King.
GALADRIEL: You see what she thinks of you!
THE VOICE OF THORIN OAKENSHIELD from within: The time has come to take back Erebor! That which hath been foretold shall come to pass, and the Secret Door shall be opened, and the Heir of Durin shall come forth, and reclaim his birthright!
GALADRIEL: Bid him be silent! That Dwarf is forever insulting us.
THRANDUIL: He has said nothing against you. Besides, he is a prince.
GALADRIEL: You are afraid of him.
THE VOICE OF THORIN OAKENSHIELD: Let them tremble, who would oppose me, for the wrath of Durin's folk shall be upon them! He who now sips his wine shall die in his silver robes! And let her who consorts with him, yea, and with the grey wizard also, let her cast ashes on her head; for the day of the Dwarves shall come!
GALADRIEL: You see, he insults me! Command him to be silent!
THRANDUIL: Dance for me, Arwen!
ARWEN: I have no desire to dance, my King.
GALADRIEL: I will not have her dance.
THRANDUIL: Arwen, daughter of Elrond, dance for me.
GALADRIEL: Do not dance, granddaughter.
ARWEN: I do not wish to dance.
THRANDUIL: Arwen, Arwen, dance for me! If you dance for me, you shall have whatever you will, even unto half my kingdom!
ARWEN: Do you swear this, my King?
THRANDUIL: I swear it!
GALADRIEL: Do not dance, granddaughter!
ARWEN: I am ready, my King.
Arwen dances the dance of the seven veils.
THRANDUIL: Ah! Wonderful, wonderful! You see, she has danced for me! Come here, Arwen, you shall have your reward! You shall have whatsoever you desire. What would you have?
ARWEN: I would have them bring me, on a silver plate…
THRANDUIL: On a silver plate… She is charming! What would you have on a silver plate, sweet Arwen?
ARWEN: The head of Thorin Oakenshield.
GALADRIEL: Well said, granddaughter!
THRANDUIL: No, no! Arwen! Do not ask me that. Do not heed your grandmother!
ARWEN: I do not heed my grandmother. It is for my own pleasure that I want the head of Thorin Oakenshield on a silver plate. You have sworn an oath, Thranduil.
THRANDUIL: I know. I have sworn. But do not ask this thing of me. Ask me for half my kingdom, but not this!
ARWEN: I want the head of Thorin Oakenshield.
THRANDUIL: No, no!
ARWEN: You have sworn an oath!
THRANDUIL: Arwen, be reasonable. A head, severed from the body, is an unpleasant sight. I have emeralds. I will give them to you. They are the fairest emeralds in the world.
ARWEN: I want the head of Thorin Oakenshield.
THRANDUIL: No, no! You wish to punish me, Arwen, because I have looked at you too much! Your beauty has troubled me. Arwen, you know my white peacocks. They are the only white peacocks in the world. I have but one hundred, but I will give them all to you.
ARWEN: Give me the head of Thorin Oakenshield.
THRANDUIL: Arwen, think! This Dwarf is the Heir of Durin! There may be war with the Naugrim if we touch him! Arwen, I have a necklace of mithril. I will give it to you. You would look as fair as a queen with that necklace. But do not ask me for the head of that Dwarf! All you ask, I will give to you, save that one life. I will give you your grandmother's Ring!
ARWEN: Give me the head of Thorin Oakenshield!
THRANDUIL, sinking back in his seat: Let her have what she wishes!
He gives his ring to the executioner. The executioner goes into the cells.
TAURIEL: Something terrible will happen!
ARWEN: I hear nothing. Why does he not cry out? Strike, strike! Ah! Something has fallen. The executioner has dropped his sword. He is a coward! My King, command your soldiers to bring me what I have asked!
The executioner comes forth from the cells, bearing the head of Thorin Oakenshield on a silver plate. Arwen seizes it.
ARWEN: Ah! Thou wouldst not let me kiss thy mouth, Thorin Oakenshield! Well, I will kiss it now! I will bite it with my teeth, as one bites a ripe fruit! But why dost thou not look at me, Thorin Oakenshield? Thine eyes that were so terrible and full of scorn, they are now shut. Thou didst speak terrible words to me, Arwen, daughter of Elrond, lady of Imladris! Well, I live still, but thou art dead, and thy head belongs to me. Ah, Thorin Oakenshield, thou wert beautiful. Thy body was as white as alabaster, and thy hair was as black as onyx; and thy voice was as music. Ah, wherefore didst thou not look upon me? Hadst thou looked upon me, thou wouldst have loved me.
Arwen kisses the head of Thorin Oakenshield.
THRANDUIL: She is monstrous, your granddaughter. She is altogether monstrous!
GALADRIEL: I approve of what she has done!
THRANDUIL: Be silent, woman! Let us go back to the banqueting hall.
They make to leave.
ARWEN: Ah! I have kissed thy mouth, Thorin Oakenshield! There was a bitter taste on thy lips. Was it the taste of blood? Nay, but perhaps it was the taste of love. They say that love tastes bitter. But what of it? I have kissed thy mouth, Thorin Oakenshield!
THRANDUIL: Kill that woman!
The guards rush forward and kill Arwen with their knives.
CURTAIN