Summary: A few of the inhabitants of Rivendell discover and react to the slashes about them.
Rating: T for um…well, stuff.
Disclaimer: Tolkien, NLC and Pete Jackson own all. Pooey.
Warning: Slashers—NOT FOR YOU! I mean, go ahead and read if you like, but please don't flame me afterward!
Everyone else—I hope you enjoy! Please review if you feel I am worthy!
Untitled load of hilarity
by
TheRandomScribbler
This day was at first much like any other day in Rivendell. The sky was a deep blue with only tiny wisps of cloud floating across its otherwise-perfect stillness, the sun peeked gently out over the treetops, the streams gurgled mischeviously on their way to the Great River, and the birds sang sweetly in the overhead trees.
Aragorn, son of Arathorn, adopted son of Lord Elrond Peredhil, aka Estel to the inhabitants of Rivendell, was snoozing deeply in his bedroom. It was around 10:30 in the morning, and normally Elrond liked to get everyone up before the sun rose—much to his sons' chagrine—but today was Saturday. Elladan and Elrohir, the biological twin sons of Elrond, had finally convinced their father that it was not necessary to greet the sun today, when they ought to be staying in bed until twisting and turning and cringing in their beds could no longer stay the urge to relieve themselves and they rushed hopping to complete their daily rituals.
So there was Aragorn, sunlight streaming over him, the covers half-covering his pajama-clad body, snoring contentedly.
And then he had a funny dream.
Well, actually, it really wasn't very funny at all, it was quite disgusting.
He dreamed he was kissing Legolas.
He woke up spitting, looking around wildly for his best friend and feeling the strangest sense of relief that he wasn't present. He cautiously touched his mouth, which was thankfully completely devoid of any tongue but his own, and thus confirmed, along with the absence of Legolas, that it had only been a dream.
How revolting, he thought. Ah, well, it was but a dream. He went to lie back down, fully intending to go back to sleep and forget about the nasty dream, when something happened that hadn't happened ever before, except maybe once when Elrond had lost his temper rather badly: there was an earthquake.
"Stupid…OUCH!" Aragorn began to grumble, but something rather small yet still very solid and painful fell from apparently the ceiling and smacked him on the head. He looked up, wondering where it could possibly have come from, but only succeeded in getting ceiling material in his eyes.
The birds abruptly stopped singing, dark grey clouds covered the sky, the water seemed somehow more threatening than before, and everything seemed to go dark.
The ground was shaking. Aragorn dived for a small vase sitting on a shelf and barely managed to catch it with one hand while maintaining a grip on the other object which had fallen through the roof as the floor went through another seizure, and landed, panting, on the floor. He got up only to be pushed back down again by a more violent rumble. The vase flew out of his hand and he stubbed a toe diving to get it before it smashed. After this one had ended he tried again to get up, but was thrown down once more by the force of the quake, the vase lightly tapping the floor but not shattering quite yet. He tried a third time when this one was finished but as soon as he did so he was tossed unceremoniously from his bed and landed yet again on the ground. Grumbling with irritation, he decided this earthquake must simply have something against him and would not let up until he stayed where he was. Scowling, he slouched against the bedpost, which was considerable less comfortable than the bed itself, glaring reproachfully at the vase and strange object, which he wondered why he was protecting them so much to begin with.
Then a loud, dark voice announced in very Mordor-ish tones, making Aragorn jump "AN EVIL HAS INVADED THE CITY! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES…WHILE YOU STILL CAN.", followed by a very evil laugh usually made by the stereotypical Bad Guy. This voice would normally have scared the dickens out of Aragorn—how would you feel if a random voice started yelling that evil had invaded YOUR house?—but he was too preoccupied to notice.
Then everything went back to normal. The voice would normally have scared the dickens out of Aragorn—how would you feel if a random voice started yelling that evil had invaded YOUR house?—but he was too preoccupied to notice. He gave a yell of surprise as he realized that the black thing was warm. Like it was alive. He dropped it onto the bed and backed away, grabbing a long stick that he always kept in his room, just in case either of his brothers decided to try anything funny (Like exchange his shampoo with 100 green dye. True, it had been more funny when they'd done it to Legolas and Glorfindel, since both Elves' hair was far lighter than his and turned a lovely sick-green color when the dye was applied, but still. It made one's hair feel like orc hair, even after three showers.).
He took his stick and, setting the stupid vase down safely on the desk, poked the black thing cautiously onto what appeared to be the top. There was a shiny silver spot on it, like a silver coin, but with letters on it, Westron letters, and green lights blinking on the sides and back.
D-E-L-L.
"Dell," repeated Aragorn. He'd never heard of such a person, or place. What, or who was Dell? Why did he stick his label on a solid piece of living warm metal? He poked it again. It didn't do anything. The green lights on the side flashed at him insistently. He went and touched it, and jumped back—just in case. It didn't appear to be dangerous…
After about ten minutes of poking and prodding, he decided he was brave enough to pick it up. Grimacing, he extended one hand, then the other, and picked it up, examing it. There was a small button on the front. He pushed it, and something shot out at him!
"AH!" He yelled, chucking the thing back onto the bed straightaway and resuming his defensive position with his very dangerous stick.
Suddenly he noticed a nice little black-and-yellow book. It must've fallen through with The Thing and he hadn't noticed in the rush to save the vase from the evil earthquake.
Curious, he picked it up—still maintaing his oh-so-scary position with the stick. Keeping one eye on the black Thing, he slowly backed up to sit on a chair, far, far away from the Thing. He sat down on the chair and settled the stick on his lap—just in case it charged. He examined the book.
It was quite unlike any other book he'd ever seen. It had a yellow-and-black-and-white cover, with a picture of a very idiotic sort of person looking puzzled on the front. Its title read, Computers for Technologically-Challenged Rangers, or Computers for Dummies. Aragorn wondered if he should be offended by this; perhaps it insinuated Ranger was synonymous with dummy.
At any rate, he thought, it might contain information on the Thing. He opened it to read, "How to use your computer."
His heart leaped with excitement, for there, in great bold black letters, was written, "COMPUTER", and next to it—he became even more excited, this might be the key to unlocking the mystery!—it was a picture of the Thing! A big picture, labeled and everything. He felt happier than he had in a while; clearly these things were complicated and everyone required such labels.
"This is your computer. Do NOT drop it. Do NOT put it in water. Do NOT sit on it."
Right, thought Aragorn. I'll make sure not to.
He pored over it for about an hour, learning, much to his relief, that the thing was not in fact alive, and he could poke it all day long and it wouldn't charge him. He discovered that the thing that had charged him was the CD-ROM drive—whatever that meant—and you could play games using it. Personally Aragorn didn't see how you could possibly play games by shoving a 'drive' in and out and in and out, but he supposed some really bored person must like to do it.
"Step 3: The Internet"
The Internet. Aragorn liked the sound of that.
"Direction 1: Push Start button. 2: Push 'internet' button. This will open the Internet."
That's clever, Aragorn though admiringly. He did as it instructed.
"A link to should open. Click any story to get started. Have fun, deary!" If any writing could be sinister, this writing was off the map. Aragorn could have sworn the book was smirking evilly at him. He had no idea why, of course, but boy, was he about to find out.
He was startled to discover his own name on every single entry. Using the spiffy-awesome mouse, he scrolled down, but it all said was his name, and Legolas's, usually, too. Interesting. And what was ALslash?
He scrolled back to the top, figuring if he was going to click any of them he might as well start from the beginning.
The first one read, Aragorn and Legolas are out on a scouting trip when they are captured by orcs. Forced to spend weeks in small quarters with none but the other's company, they discover within themselves something they never knew existed…AL slash.
It wouldn't be absolutely horrible if he had to spend weeks with no one but Legolas for company, Aragorn thought naively. Naturally, he didn't realize the innuendos made by the statement.
He clicked on it, wondering why in Middle-Earth it was titled, Love in the Unknown.
The first chapter wasn't that bad. Even the second one was all right. But the third…
Their hands moved passionately across each other's bodies…
…tongues dancing in their mouths…
…Legolas moaned in delight…
…wandering hands…
Aragorn read on, in horror, as he made love to his best friend. His eyes widened and his mouth opened in a silent scream.
"How can they—how dare they—" he sputtered. When he got to the part where they actually…well, did it, he jumped up, the laptop in his hands, and made his way quickly to the door.
He intended to go straight to his father Lord Elrond to discover the source of this evil. His palms were sweating and he knew he probably looked like he'd seen a ghost. He wondered if he could even talk comprehensibly if he met someone. This thing was thoroughly evil. Totally evil. It had to be destroyed! Dell was evil.
There must be some way to destroy it, he thought desperately. He was studying the interface of the computer, looking for weaknesses, trying very hard not to so much as glance at the nasty words all across the screen.
But how dare they portray us like that! He thought furiously. They have no right… Then another thought struck him as he was walking through the halls. Legolas. What if his friend—his friend—found him like this, in a cold sweat and with such a strange device in his hands? Surely he'd ask questions. And then he would see…
The thought of meeting Legolas with this disgusting literature in his possession rather terrified him; what if Legolas thought he actually enjoyed reading this? Surely Legolas would be as thoroughly revolted as he was. But suppose he thought it was Aragorn's own? He might never speak to Aragorn again. He might not ever want to visit Rivendell again. He might—Aragorn choked thinking about it—he might tell Lord Elrond that his son owned—this—before Aragorn could axplain!
"I have to hide it," he muttered obsessively, staring in horror down at the computer. "I have to hide it, where nobody else shall find it."
"Hide what, my friend?"
Aragorn looked up to find a bright Elven face peering into his own. He barely had time to think how much he hated when his silent friend sneaked up on him like that, before he had given a yell of horror at seeing the Elf, all those images the story had created creeping unbidden into his mind, dropped the computer and darted away so quickly Legolas would have sworn he was Elven.
"That's strange," said the confused Elf prince aloud. He ran his hands over his face to ensure their normal-ness and quickly examined his hair—just to make sure it wasn't green—and when both passed the test, he was even more puzzled.
His sight was drawn to the thing Aragorn had dropped, and keen Elven eyes caught at first glance the words Aragorn, Legolas, Mirkwood.
"What's this?" he wondered. Curious, he bent down, picked it up, and started to read…
Next chapter: Legolas's reaction
TBC if there's enough interest…