Gimli&Legolas – The Shorts:
Invitation of Doom, PART 1
(My Pen Name used to be DaughterOfWords. Which, I suppose, doesn't mean much to any of you, but I thought I'd let you know all the same!
Please read the author's note at the end!)
"Anything interesting in the mail today, Gimli?"
Gimli glanced up long enough to glare at Legolas. "I've been much too busy to check the mail. Elf."
Oblivious to the hard looks from the dwarf, Legolas only gave him a puzzled frown. "What are you doing?" He then spotted the feather duster in Gimli's hand sweeping over a collection of mugs. "I thought you dusted those yesterday? Actually, come to think of it…" Legolas paused to do as much. "You've dusted those mugs every day since I've known you."
"I have not!" Gimli grumbled hotly. "I don't dust on Sundays!"
Legolas just shook his head. "What are those old mugs from anyway?"
"Old mugs!" Gimli shook his feather duster in Legolas' direction. Legolas sneezed. "I'll have you know that these aren't just some old mugs! They are my pride and joy! These mugs are saved from every competition I've ever won." And sticking his nose up in the air with a pompous look, he added, "Which has been every competition I've been in!"
Legolas gave an un-Legolas-like smirk and said, "I think my blue sword needs some dusting" and watched with un-Legolas-like glee as Gimli's eyes bulged and his face grew red. But at least the dwarf had the grace to shut up. However un-Legolas-like it had been, there was only so much an elf could take from a dwarf.
After a moment's pause – in which Gimli stared at his feather duster with a glum sort of look – Legolas walked to the door. "Well, I suppose I'll go check the mail then," he said, and exited the room.
Who cares about the mail anyway? Gimli thought. There's never anything in it except for the electric bill and the latest on Opera with Orcs and…and…Stupid blue sword!
It was a long while before Legolas returned. He may as well have been reading about operatic orcs the elf's face was so green, Gimli thought. He watched Legolas anxiously – without the appearance of being so, of course – as he stumbled into the room clutching a small white envelope.
"Ah, sooo…" Gimli tried to be nonchalant. "Did you…" He coughed. "Did you find the mail, ah, interesting?"
Mutely, Legolas stretched out his arm. Gimli wondered at his friend's unseeing stare and took the envelope from him, opening it without so much as glancing at the sender's address. He cast the envelope aside and glanced down at the note in his hand. It looked like the kind of stuff that made formal invitations, and when he started reading it he found that it was such a note. You have been formally invited, out of the goodness of her heart, by Eowyn, shieldmaiden of Rohan, to a dinner party prepared by herself…
"Good Gandalf." Gimli said. It was the only thing he could say as horror gripped him. Slowly, he let his eyes move up, the rest of his head following, to look at Legolas. He shook his head. "Good Gandalf."
Greener than ever, Legolas nodded. And then, "If you can find a way out of this one, you can have that blue sword."
Gimli chewed on the phone cord nervously. He had been put in charge of "the call of rejection". That is, the "making sure Eowyn knew they couldn't come because of some dire situation and would she please accept their most sincere apology as they would have loved to go, but just simply couldn't" call.
And as the phone rang, Don't panic was his foremost thought…until he realized that was impossible. He settled with the next best thing…
Gimli stopped mid-chew. What was the next best thing? He shot Legolas a look of utter despair and mouthed Help! Only Legolas wasn't there. He's gone and hid, the coward! Well, two can play at that game!
The dwarf was about to hang up and lock himself upstairs, but just then the insistent ringing was interrupted.
"Hello?"
Gimli opened his mouth.
He took a deep breath…
And all that came out was a squeak.
"Who's calling?"
Gimli squeaked again, but this time his squeak sounded like a name. "Faramir!"
"Yes. Who's this? Is that you, Arwen?"
Only then did Gimli regain full control of his male vocal system. "Arwen?! How dare you! To assume that I, a dwarf of superior male-ness, should be thought a girl…no, worse! An elven girl!...is an abomination to all Middle-kind!"
"Oh, hello, Gimli. Terribly sorry. What a diddle-head I've been lately," Faramir sighed.
"Ah, yes, well…" Gimli choked down his pride. "I've seen worse diddle-heads."
There was an awkward pause during which Gimli considered chewing through the phone cord and blaming it on the imaginary dog, but then Faramir said something that blew the leaves off every ent.
"You're calling to say you're not coming to Eowyn's dinner party, aren't you."
And then Faramir sniffed.
Argh, Gimli thought.
"Well, you see…" Gimli cleared his throat. "It's not that we don't want…I mean, that is to say, we're not exactly able to…"
But Faramir wasn't listening. "You should have heard the excuses that some of the people had come up with!" he went on. "'The cat's dying', 'the house caught on fire', 'I ran my car into an ent and it threw it fifty feet before it exploded on a nazgul's newly refurbished house and he's been chasing me for days now and I simply can't come and risk us all being eaten.'"
Gimli gulped.
"And now the only people who are coming are Galadriel, my brother, and Gandalf, bless his beard. And Galadriel's only coming because she saw a vision about a dog or something or other."
"A what?"
"Don't ask me, I don't know how dogs tie into dinner parties, but that's what she said!" Faramir paused. "So anyway…what excuse did you and Legolas come up with? I hope that it at least sounds plausible. Every time I tell Eowyn someone can't come it's like she's hearing the end of the world…Oh, my poor, poor girl! She suffers so much…"
Gimli sighed.
Hearing the creak of the stairs, Legolas at long last unlocked the door and poked his head out of his room. "Well, Gimli? What did she say? Was she very upset?"
Legolas did not like the expression on Gimli's face. Nor did he like it very much when Gimli shook his head. He also didn't like it when Gimli said, "No. In fact, I'm sure she's over-joyous right now" in that bleak tone of voice.
"What do you mean, Gimli? Over-joyous? People are usually sad when other people can't come to their parties."
Gimli leaned against the door frame at the top of the stairs – Legolas thought he made the most pitiful picture of a very weary dwarf.
"Yes, they are," the dwarf said, "And I'm sure she would have been if…"
Legolas's heart stopped. "If…you don't mean to say that…You said we'd come, didn't you." He sniffed. "I'm disappointed in you, Gimli. I had the utmost faith in you, and now it has been completely obliterated. Well, say goodbye to this face, because you won't be seeing it again! And you can be sure I'm keeping the blue sword!"
Gimli winced as Legolas slammed the door. But dwarves didn't wince, he remembered. And they didn't appreciate doors being slammed in their faces. Especially when that offense is paid by an elf. He stomped over to Legolas's door.
"You! Open! This! Door!" he shouted, pounding against the door with his fist for every word.
And the door did open. But before Gimli could start shouting at him, a very puzzled Legolas stuck his head out the door again.
"Um, Gimli," he said. "You did say we were coming, didn't you?"
Gimli's anger was evaporated. He never could stay angry with his poor, simple-minded elf. "Yes."
Legolas nodded. "Well," he said, "if we die from food poisoning perhaps Eowyn will give up cooking forever."
And for once, Gimli thought, the elf had a point.
The car ride to Faramir and Eowyn's house spoke only of doom and ill-doings and other unpleasant things. With Legolas staring off into space with that gloomy "I'm going to die tonight" expression, it was simply catastrophic. No one should know when they're going to die when an hour-long car ride must be endured first, Gimli thought. It was…well, it was sacrilegious! And he wouldn't even be getting a good meal before he died!
Legolas was beyond all thought.
The driver of the car was neither Gimli nor Legolas, but Gandalf. He was, in fact, the only suitable being to drive. Gimli, being too short, refused to sit on wooden boxes required by the law for dwarf drivers, and Legolas…well, 'beyond thought' isn't recommended when handling a vehicle.
"Just around this next turn is the house," Gandalf said over the classic rock pouring from the speakers. He then turned the volume up.
Gimli suppressed a growl and rolled his head to look in Gandalf's direction. "Do we have to listen to this…this…modernized junk?"
"Allow me this simple pleasure as I'm going to die tonight," Gandalf said serenely.
"And what about my simple pleasure?!" Gimli retorted.
Gandalf promptly ignored him, as wizards are liable to do. "Look for house number ninety-four."
"I'd rather die," Gimli said.
"Oh good. Because we're looking for house number ninety-four."
The houses passed by ever so slowly as both wizard and dwarf squinted into evening darkness. With their luck, Gimli had no doubt that the house would be as plain as day to find – high noon with an obnoxious amount of sunlight glaring into your eyes, to be exact. Eowyn had probably set up a giant billboard with blinking lights with some dorky sign like Eat at Eowyn's.
Gimli's prediction wasn't that far off. The house did jump out at them, like an ugly orc…Wait, Gimli thought. That's being redundant. Like a…an orc in a pink tutu. Perhaps there wasn't the giant billboard, but there definitely was the blaring light…
Gandalf parked the car near the sidewalk, slowly sitting back and wincing at the house. "The light of the disco ball really brings out the bright orange color of the shutters, don't you think?"
Ramblings from this Ludicrous Writer:
Much thanks for reading my story!
I now offer up a disclaimer – I do not own anything Lord of the Rings related, other than my own poor excuse of wit and originality.
On another note, I may rewrite Part 1 of my story – I'm not entirely satisfied with the flow of the words in some parts. But, since I've been extremely lax in posting anything, I thought I might put it up as not! (Yes, I did let three years go by since my first story…may doom be forever upon my scatter-brained head.) Who knows when Part 2 shall be written...bear with me as best you can. :)
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