Summary: Boromir and Celeborn discover the hyper potion, which drives them
completely and utterly off-the-wall! How will Legolas, and all of Middle-
earth, deal with it?
AK: "In this story Boromir is probably about eighteen which would make Legolas still almost three thousand and Celeborn...really, really old. If you're wondering how Boromir and Celeborn know about some modern day things, read the SSALCB chronicles to find out!"
Disclaimer: I own the obvious!
~~~
It is the dead of night, and not an elf stirs in the fair land of Imladris, or Rivendell as it is more commonly called. Well no, there is an elf stirring. Stirring quite a bit actually. An elf and a man. No, it is not Legolas and Aragorn, though that would probably make more sense. This pare is actually Boromir, son of Denethor Steward of Gondor and the well loved but less credited: put your hands together for Celeborn, Lord of Lothlórien!
The two males have sneaked into Lord Elrond's private stores, and are mixing together various herbs and plants in a unidentified liquidy substance that looks suspiciously brown. Boromir cackles as he pours a white, ground up substance into the strange concoction. Celeborn puts on his best "I don't think we should be here" expression, but can't help laughing at the thought of Elrond's face if he saw what the two of them were up to.
"Hey, Celeborn. Do you want to stir?" Boromir asks, offering him a large, wooden spoon. The elf lord nods, and seizes the spoon with his left hand. He rolls up his ridiculously long sleeves before stirring madly for a minute or two.
"Ok, I think it's done!" The lord of Lothlórien assesses, taking a whiff of the bizarre looking potion. Boromir grins eagerly, and reaches for the bowl.
"Dare me to try it?" Celeborn nods in agreement, quite interested himself about how this whole operation would turn out. "Will you try it after me?" Boromir asks, eyeing the elf suspiciously.
"Yes, of coarse." says Celeborn, his voice taking on an impatient tone. 'Drink it already!' he thinks.
Boromir flashes his friend a sly smile, not missing the elf's exasperation. With one last look at the door to make sure no one is coming, the young man takes a big gulp of the potion, a look of ecstasy flashing across his eyes. After a few seconds he removes the bowl from his face and passes it to Celeborn, bliss written all across his face.
"That...was...great! I have never tasted anything like it! Try it, Celeborn, you'll love it!" Intrigued by Boromir's reaction, the elf lord carefully brings the bowl up to his face and takes a small sip. The taste is absolutely explosive! Boromir was right; in all his thousands of years he had never tasted anything like this! Forgetting his manners, Celeborn imitates the young man and begins chugging the delicious drink. After a bit, the elf passes it back to the man who has a great swig. They take turns passing the bowl back and forth until the utensil is completely empty.
"Well that was excellent," begins Boromir. "I think we'd better head back to bed now before someone gets suspicious!" Celeborn nods and takes not three steps before falling flat on his face. Boromir looks on, flabbergasted.
"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He asks, concerned.
"I seem to have fallen." Celeborn squints up at Boromir. "Wow, I never knew you were so tall, Bor'mir." The man of Gondor stares at the elf for a few seconds before bursting out laughing.
"I'm not tall, Cel'born, you're on the floor! Eek! Spiders live on the floor!" Boromir suddenly shrieks and jumps into the air. He trips over the empty potion bowl, and plummets to the ground, giggling madly.
"Hey! Now we're the same height! Can I have a tuna fish?" Boromir rolls his eyes at the downed elf.
"No you may *not* have a tuna fish! Come on, Cel'born, let's all go to the movies!" The man jumps to his feet and starts dancing around the room, banging into various cabinets and desks, causing glass bottles to come crashing to the floor, spilling their multi-colored contents everywhere. Celeborn clambers to his feet as well and joins Boromir's insane 'dance.'
"Bor'mir!" screams Celeborn.
"What?" Boromir screams in response.
"Wanna go do something?"
"Okay!"
The two friends hop out of the room, laughing loudly, unaware that they have woken up nearly everyone in Elrond's house.
~~~
It is the middle of the night, and Legolas Greenleaf, Son of Thranduil king of Mirkwood is supposed to be asleep. He is, however, not. That blasted noise had woken him up. What elf could possibly be so loud this time of night, or anytime of day! Unless...
"Estel!!!" He is the only human in Rivendell, isn't he?
"I didn't do it!" Comes the quick, sleepy reply.
This answer doesn't help Legolas though because Estel, or Aragorn, is asleep in the same room as the elf, and therefore can't possibly be the one making such a racket. Wait, isn't the steward's son-Boromir wasn't it?- staying here too?
"Boromir!!" The prince shouts loudly, causing Aragorn to kick violently in his sleep. Wasn't the ranger supposed to be a light sleeper? Or was that just a hoax?
"You raaaaaaaaang?"
Legolas jumps a foot in the air, bringing him face to face with Boromir. He must have sneaked up upon the elf while he was contemplating Aragorn's sleep habits. Wait...why was Boromir so far off the ground? Legolas takes a closer look at the young human who is most certainly not standing on the ground. No, he is being carried by somebody else. "Lord Celeborn?!!?"
Celeborn chuckles quietly. "Yeeeeeees?"
"Why are you carrying Denethor's son?" asks Legolas, raising a questioning eyebrow.
"I'm not," he responds, a perfectly serious expression on his flawless face. Without blinking the lord of Lothlórien pulls his arms to his sides, causing Boromir to drop rather unceremoniously to the ground.
"Ouchies, that was painful, Cel'born. Do it again!" Boromir holds out his arms for Celeborn to grab, but Legolas will have none of that.
"Stop it, you two! I don't know what's gotten into you, and I don't really want to know. Go back to sleep, ok?"
The two hyper people glower at the sleeping form of Aragorn for a minute, exchange a few glances, and then nod their heads in agreement.
"We will obey your orders, captain, but we have to tell you something urgent!" Boromir announces, waving his arms around to emphasize his words.
"What is it?" Legolas is starting to become frustrated.
"Beware of the Crab trees!"
The two friends exit the room with what they think is an air of mystery about them. Legolas watches them leave in annoyance, too tired to notice the small crab apple, aimed for his forehead, go flying past and crash into the wall, leaving a small red stain.
~~~
Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, has somehow managed to sleep right through the racket Boromir and Celeborn have made. He is; however, rudely awaken at the sound of somebody pounding on his door.
"Who is it?" He asks, grumpily.
"Special delivery," says a voice.
"What? At this hour?"
"Special delivery." The voice answers again, only slightly more urgent.
"Fine, fine. Slip it under the door."
The voice chortles quietly and sends the letter under the door. Elrond can hear the sound of feet rushing away. He shrugs, and drags himself out of bed and staggers rather ungracefully to the door. The half-elf bends down, and retrieves the letter, curious as to why there is no seal. He opens the letter and reads it.
//Dear Elrond,
Hi, I hope this isn't too much of a bother for you, but one of your sons has stolen something of great value from me. Yes, he has stolen my pocket lint. Not a great deal of it, but enough to make me worry. Now I know that you are very busy, but would you please retrieve this lint for me? And could you also tell the cooks to make the salads *with* fluffy stuff this time? Thank you for your time.
Sincerely, Rimorob and Nrobelec.//
'Pocket lint?' Elrond shakes his head, puts the letter on his desk, and slips back into bed. 'What kind of a name is Rimorob?'
AK: "In this story Boromir is probably about eighteen which would make Legolas still almost three thousand and Celeborn...really, really old. If you're wondering how Boromir and Celeborn know about some modern day things, read the SSALCB chronicles to find out!"
Disclaimer: I own the obvious!
~~~
It is the dead of night, and not an elf stirs in the fair land of Imladris, or Rivendell as it is more commonly called. Well no, there is an elf stirring. Stirring quite a bit actually. An elf and a man. No, it is not Legolas and Aragorn, though that would probably make more sense. This pare is actually Boromir, son of Denethor Steward of Gondor and the well loved but less credited: put your hands together for Celeborn, Lord of Lothlórien!
The two males have sneaked into Lord Elrond's private stores, and are mixing together various herbs and plants in a unidentified liquidy substance that looks suspiciously brown. Boromir cackles as he pours a white, ground up substance into the strange concoction. Celeborn puts on his best "I don't think we should be here" expression, but can't help laughing at the thought of Elrond's face if he saw what the two of them were up to.
"Hey, Celeborn. Do you want to stir?" Boromir asks, offering him a large, wooden spoon. The elf lord nods, and seizes the spoon with his left hand. He rolls up his ridiculously long sleeves before stirring madly for a minute or two.
"Ok, I think it's done!" The lord of Lothlórien assesses, taking a whiff of the bizarre looking potion. Boromir grins eagerly, and reaches for the bowl.
"Dare me to try it?" Celeborn nods in agreement, quite interested himself about how this whole operation would turn out. "Will you try it after me?" Boromir asks, eyeing the elf suspiciously.
"Yes, of coarse." says Celeborn, his voice taking on an impatient tone. 'Drink it already!' he thinks.
Boromir flashes his friend a sly smile, not missing the elf's exasperation. With one last look at the door to make sure no one is coming, the young man takes a big gulp of the potion, a look of ecstasy flashing across his eyes. After a few seconds he removes the bowl from his face and passes it to Celeborn, bliss written all across his face.
"That...was...great! I have never tasted anything like it! Try it, Celeborn, you'll love it!" Intrigued by Boromir's reaction, the elf lord carefully brings the bowl up to his face and takes a small sip. The taste is absolutely explosive! Boromir was right; in all his thousands of years he had never tasted anything like this! Forgetting his manners, Celeborn imitates the young man and begins chugging the delicious drink. After a bit, the elf passes it back to the man who has a great swig. They take turns passing the bowl back and forth until the utensil is completely empty.
"Well that was excellent," begins Boromir. "I think we'd better head back to bed now before someone gets suspicious!" Celeborn nods and takes not three steps before falling flat on his face. Boromir looks on, flabbergasted.
"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He asks, concerned.
"I seem to have fallen." Celeborn squints up at Boromir. "Wow, I never knew you were so tall, Bor'mir." The man of Gondor stares at the elf for a few seconds before bursting out laughing.
"I'm not tall, Cel'born, you're on the floor! Eek! Spiders live on the floor!" Boromir suddenly shrieks and jumps into the air. He trips over the empty potion bowl, and plummets to the ground, giggling madly.
"Hey! Now we're the same height! Can I have a tuna fish?" Boromir rolls his eyes at the downed elf.
"No you may *not* have a tuna fish! Come on, Cel'born, let's all go to the movies!" The man jumps to his feet and starts dancing around the room, banging into various cabinets and desks, causing glass bottles to come crashing to the floor, spilling their multi-colored contents everywhere. Celeborn clambers to his feet as well and joins Boromir's insane 'dance.'
"Bor'mir!" screams Celeborn.
"What?" Boromir screams in response.
"Wanna go do something?"
"Okay!"
The two friends hop out of the room, laughing loudly, unaware that they have woken up nearly everyone in Elrond's house.
~~~
It is the middle of the night, and Legolas Greenleaf, Son of Thranduil king of Mirkwood is supposed to be asleep. He is, however, not. That blasted noise had woken him up. What elf could possibly be so loud this time of night, or anytime of day! Unless...
"Estel!!!" He is the only human in Rivendell, isn't he?
"I didn't do it!" Comes the quick, sleepy reply.
This answer doesn't help Legolas though because Estel, or Aragorn, is asleep in the same room as the elf, and therefore can't possibly be the one making such a racket. Wait, isn't the steward's son-Boromir wasn't it?- staying here too?
"Boromir!!" The prince shouts loudly, causing Aragorn to kick violently in his sleep. Wasn't the ranger supposed to be a light sleeper? Or was that just a hoax?
"You raaaaaaaaang?"
Legolas jumps a foot in the air, bringing him face to face with Boromir. He must have sneaked up upon the elf while he was contemplating Aragorn's sleep habits. Wait...why was Boromir so far off the ground? Legolas takes a closer look at the young human who is most certainly not standing on the ground. No, he is being carried by somebody else. "Lord Celeborn?!!?"
Celeborn chuckles quietly. "Yeeeeeees?"
"Why are you carrying Denethor's son?" asks Legolas, raising a questioning eyebrow.
"I'm not," he responds, a perfectly serious expression on his flawless face. Without blinking the lord of Lothlórien pulls his arms to his sides, causing Boromir to drop rather unceremoniously to the ground.
"Ouchies, that was painful, Cel'born. Do it again!" Boromir holds out his arms for Celeborn to grab, but Legolas will have none of that.
"Stop it, you two! I don't know what's gotten into you, and I don't really want to know. Go back to sleep, ok?"
The two hyper people glower at the sleeping form of Aragorn for a minute, exchange a few glances, and then nod their heads in agreement.
"We will obey your orders, captain, but we have to tell you something urgent!" Boromir announces, waving his arms around to emphasize his words.
"What is it?" Legolas is starting to become frustrated.
"Beware of the Crab trees!"
The two friends exit the room with what they think is an air of mystery about them. Legolas watches them leave in annoyance, too tired to notice the small crab apple, aimed for his forehead, go flying past and crash into the wall, leaving a small red stain.
~~~
Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, has somehow managed to sleep right through the racket Boromir and Celeborn have made. He is; however, rudely awaken at the sound of somebody pounding on his door.
"Who is it?" He asks, grumpily.
"Special delivery," says a voice.
"What? At this hour?"
"Special delivery." The voice answers again, only slightly more urgent.
"Fine, fine. Slip it under the door."
The voice chortles quietly and sends the letter under the door. Elrond can hear the sound of feet rushing away. He shrugs, and drags himself out of bed and staggers rather ungracefully to the door. The half-elf bends down, and retrieves the letter, curious as to why there is no seal. He opens the letter and reads it.
//Dear Elrond,
Hi, I hope this isn't too much of a bother for you, but one of your sons has stolen something of great value from me. Yes, he has stolen my pocket lint. Not a great deal of it, but enough to make me worry. Now I know that you are very busy, but would you please retrieve this lint for me? And could you also tell the cooks to make the salads *with* fluffy stuff this time? Thank you for your time.
Sincerely, Rimorob and Nrobelec.//
'Pocket lint?' Elrond shakes his head, puts the letter on his desk, and slips back into bed. 'What kind of a name is Rimorob?'