Disclaimer – Nope, main characters ain't mine, hats off to Mr. Tolkien. And
probably the arguments ain't mine either, if I've borrowed them then I
apologise and say thank you! Also apologies if it's not funny, it made me
laugh… oh well!
A/N – more serious stuff in the pipeline, will see how it goes!
A Press Conference
Cameras flash, reporters are milling around. Legolas stands in front of a podium placed on the stage. Clears his throat to get everyone's attention.
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending this press conference today. With it I hope to clear up any misinterpretations about my sexual preferences and put a stop to all the lies that I know have been running around Middle Earth for some time now."
A number of hands fly up in the air from the journalists sitting in the front row. Our Elven friend points to one.
"So you're saying that the rumours that you… er...bat for the other team are in fact lies?"
"Precisely… and I…."
"So how exactly would you describe your relationship with Gimli, son of Gloin Mr. Greenleaf?"
A brief frown. "Gimli and I are merely friends, the only relationship present is a totally platonic one."
"And what about suggestions about yourself and the two Humans in the fellowship? Boromir of Gondor and Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Isild…."
"I would like to quash all these suggestions right now, they are merely the fantasies of crazed fangirls… I appreciate their admiration of male beauty but there are other ways to show adoration…."
"But I love you! I'll be the girl to turn you!" A screech reverberates around the room, as a blond haired girl throws herself towards the podium, reaching wildly for Legolas. Before she can accost him she is dragged away by security officers. Legolas looks hugely relieved.
"I think you see my point ladies and gentlemen," he says with the hint of a smile. A few polite laughs. The audible whisper of 'Set-up' is ignored.
"Another question Mr. Greenleaf." He nods. "If you dispute the rumours, then why present yourself in a manner which shouts feminine?" Legolas stares unbelievingly. "For example, the constant perfect hairstyle, the impeccable choice of colours in your clothes and the so called 'prancing'?"
Legolas tosses a perfectly placed strand of hair slightly out of place and laughs nervously. "I like the well ordered look, is that a crime? And I am Elven royalty remember? We have an image to maintain. As to clothes, do I make my own clothes? No. So do I choice the colour? No. That's why tailors still have jobs. As to the 'prancing', I prefer to call it 'grace'. Ask anyone with long legs how they walk, and it is either 'with grace' or 'like a clumsy bear coming out of hibernation'. May I concede my point?" A few nods. "Any last questions?"
A single hand rises. "What do you say to the comment that Hobbits are the perfect height for…"
"Thank you for your time ladies and gentlemen." Legolas leaves the stage, seen to be mumbling inaudibly. A few moments silence is followed by a lot of murmuring and muttering. Some reporters begin to leave.
"On a final note ladies and gentlemen, if I may?" A voice is heard from the stage. Silence once more falls as Meriadoc Brandybuck steps out from behind the podium. "We are not the perfect height at all, it gives you total neck ache."
A shocked silence.
"What?" Meriadoc looks indignant. "There's a reason my nickname is 'Merry' you know..."
A/N – more serious stuff in the pipeline, will see how it goes!
A Press Conference
Cameras flash, reporters are milling around. Legolas stands in front of a podium placed on the stage. Clears his throat to get everyone's attention.
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending this press conference today. With it I hope to clear up any misinterpretations about my sexual preferences and put a stop to all the lies that I know have been running around Middle Earth for some time now."
A number of hands fly up in the air from the journalists sitting in the front row. Our Elven friend points to one.
"So you're saying that the rumours that you… er...bat for the other team are in fact lies?"
"Precisely… and I…."
"So how exactly would you describe your relationship with Gimli, son of Gloin Mr. Greenleaf?"
A brief frown. "Gimli and I are merely friends, the only relationship present is a totally platonic one."
"And what about suggestions about yourself and the two Humans in the fellowship? Boromir of Gondor and Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Isild…."
"I would like to quash all these suggestions right now, they are merely the fantasies of crazed fangirls… I appreciate their admiration of male beauty but there are other ways to show adoration…."
"But I love you! I'll be the girl to turn you!" A screech reverberates around the room, as a blond haired girl throws herself towards the podium, reaching wildly for Legolas. Before she can accost him she is dragged away by security officers. Legolas looks hugely relieved.
"I think you see my point ladies and gentlemen," he says with the hint of a smile. A few polite laughs. The audible whisper of 'Set-up' is ignored.
"Another question Mr. Greenleaf." He nods. "If you dispute the rumours, then why present yourself in a manner which shouts feminine?" Legolas stares unbelievingly. "For example, the constant perfect hairstyle, the impeccable choice of colours in your clothes and the so called 'prancing'?"
Legolas tosses a perfectly placed strand of hair slightly out of place and laughs nervously. "I like the well ordered look, is that a crime? And I am Elven royalty remember? We have an image to maintain. As to clothes, do I make my own clothes? No. So do I choice the colour? No. That's why tailors still have jobs. As to the 'prancing', I prefer to call it 'grace'. Ask anyone with long legs how they walk, and it is either 'with grace' or 'like a clumsy bear coming out of hibernation'. May I concede my point?" A few nods. "Any last questions?"
A single hand rises. "What do you say to the comment that Hobbits are the perfect height for…"
"Thank you for your time ladies and gentlemen." Legolas leaves the stage, seen to be mumbling inaudibly. A few moments silence is followed by a lot of murmuring and muttering. Some reporters begin to leave.
"On a final note ladies and gentlemen, if I may?" A voice is heard from the stage. Silence once more falls as Meriadoc Brandybuck steps out from behind the podium. "We are not the perfect height at all, it gives you total neck ache."
A shocked silence.
"What?" Meriadoc looks indignant. "There's a reason my nickname is 'Merry' you know..."