Disclaimer: I don't own Elrond, Glorfindel, or even Figwit. They all
belong to JRR Tolkien.
Who is f&*k is Figwit you ask? There is the one elf in the LOTR movie that sits next to Aragorn, that the random and sudden fans of him have named Figwit. This little fellow seems to have quite an online following. I don't know anything about his personality or background, so I made up some stuff. He's kinda annoying so consider this an apology to all Figwit lovers.
THE LORD OF IMALDRIS HAS A MARGARITA.
Elrond slammed the door to his chamber and collapsed in his fireside chair. Talk about a bad week: infected hobbits, evil rings of power, an all day council meeting in which everyone and their mother stood up to bicker for 20 minutes with everyone else, and now: he had a splitting migraine. He massaged his temples with his hand and stared into the fire. He had a sudden strong desire to jump into it, not that it would do any good anyway- just give him some severe burns and fill the room with the putrid smell of burning elf-hair. It was times like these that he wondered why he had chosen to be counted among elves instead of men. At least if he were human he would be long dead by now.
"I need a break," he muttered, and, sighing, leaned his head against the back of his chair. His eyes closed and he was just drifting off into a nice dream when the door crashed open.
He sat bolt upright in his chair and glared at the elf who had just burst into his room. He was very young, with long thick brown hair tied back in the traditional elvish fashion. His pointy nose matched his ears perfectly and his eyes were as big as saucers. "Oh Lord Elrond," he squeaked, "I hope I have not awoken or interrupted you."
"You've done both, Figwit." He sighed and then seeing the horrified look on the young elf's face added, "But no matter. What do you want?"
"Your Lordship," Figwit continued, nervously pacing the area before the elf lord and blinking his eyes. "I hope this does not anger you or cause you distress. I do not mean to disturb you. I have come here merely to thank you."
The elf lord's grey eyes pierced Figwit's skull. "For what?" He deadpanned.
"Oh," Figwit cried, "for inviting me to the council today. I felt very honored to be part of such and important decision like what to do with the One Ring because I am very young, sir, and a lot of the older elves do not take me seriously…"
Elrond groaned and put his head in his hands. All he wanted was some sleep and a break from this topic.
"…and I must say, sir, that your comments were exceptionally enlightening to me, my being so inexperienced and humble, your excellency."
The voice stopped suddenly. "My lord," Figwit continued, "is… something wrong?"
"Not a thing, child," Elrond lamented. "I'm just… rather tired, that's all. And… I seem to have quite a splitting headache."
"Oh your Excellency!" Elrond winced as Figwit's voice entered octaves that most elf-maidens couldn't hit. "I HAVE been disturbing you! Oh my severest and sincerest apologies, my lord. You have no idea how it pains me to see you distressed. Please, oh please, sir, if there's anything I can do."
"There's nothing, Figwit, just be on your way," Elrond said curtly.
"No, no, sir, really. I am forever your servant. Please shall I tuck you into your bed? Fluff your pillow? Run you a nice hot bath, sir? How about a massage?"
"No, Figwit, I'm really quite all right," Elrond said through gritted teeth.
"Oh nonsense, Master Elrond," replied Figwit. "I know what I shall do. I will give your hair a nice brushing and re-braid it for you."
"No, Figwit, that's really not necessary," Elrond protested.
"Oh it's my pleasure, sir, really." Figwit reached out and clutched the silver circlet on Elrond's head.
"DON'T TOUCH THAT!" Elrond roared.
The younger elf jumped back immediately and cowered with shaking hands over his face. "I'm sorry, your Excellency. I didn't mean to cause any harm. Just let me do something for you as a token of my great respect and allegiance."
Elrond sighed. If he complied with Figwit then he'd leave him alone. "Get me…" The elf lord started but from there had no idea how to finish. There was nothing he wanted except his bed, and he didn't relish the idea of Figwit tucking him in like a child. After a minute, Elrond said the first thing that had come into his mind. "A margarita."
A look of relief, then confusion spread across Figwit's face. "A… a margarita, sir?"
"Yes."
The two stared at each other in silence for a moment.
"Oh," cried Figwit. "Yes, yes, a margarita, of course. What a splendid idea!" Figwit clapped his hands happily. "I shall have your margarita to you before you can say Minas Tirith, Master." Figwit turned and rushed from the room. Closing the door behind him, Figwit skipped blissfully along the corridor until a thought struck him: how was he supposed to find a margarita if he didn't know what one was? "Oh dear," whispered Figwit. "Oh dear me, this is not good at all."
Now what was he to do? Figwit mentally kicked himself. He should have known better by now than to promise his lord something unknown to him. He couldn't go back there and ask him what it was. That would be utterly humiliating. The poor elf was just about to sit down and cry, when down the hallway he spied his salvation. Glorfindel had just stepped out of the Hall of Fire.
Figwit raced to Glorfindel and skidded to a stop at his heels. "Ah, Figwit," said Glorfindel and smiled down kindly at the elf. "How have you been, dear boy? And, my goodness, is everything all right?"
Figwit held up a finger as he tried to catch his breath. "I've just come…" he gasped, "from… Lord Elrond's room."
Glorfindel's eyes widened. "I was just about to check on him. He left the Hall earlier than usual this evening. Is he ok?"
"He's fine, generally," replied Figwit. "Just tired. I insisted that he let me do something for him and he told me to get him…" Figwit stopped suddenly and looked cautiously around him, "…a margarita. You know that I would get him anything his heart desires, Glorfindel, but you see…", at this point, Figwit leaned in close to Glorfindel and his voice dropped to a whisper, "I don't know what a margarita is." Figwit stepped back and looked hopefully at Glorfindel.
The other elf simply blinked and stared at his companion. "Margarita, eh?" Mused Glorfindel, then, much to Figwit's shock, he burst out laughing.
"What?" Cried Figwit.
"So, Lord Elrond has finally decided to join the living. God, it must be 3000, 4000 years since the last time. Oh!" Glorfindel clutched his sides and grinned wickedly. "He MUST be stressed in order to go long a time without having it and then suddenly call upon it again. Personally, I'm quite glad for him. It will be good for him. The Lord of Imaldris shall have his margarita."
"But…" sputtered Figwit, "but what's a margarita?"
"Oh dear boy, it doesn't surprise me that you don't know what it is," replied Glorfindel. "After all, you are but an elfling. You will learn more of such things as you grow older." Glorfindel patted Figwit on his shoulder. "Don't you worry a thing about it. I will take care of everything."
With a swish of his robes, Glorfindel had vanished, leaving Figwit standing dumbfounded in the hallway.
* * *
Meanwhile, Elrond leaned back in his chair and stared at the celing. He had sent Figwit almost 20 minutes ago. What was taking him so long? Elrond decided that he would give Figwit 5 more minutes and then turn in for bed. It was not like he wanted the drink anyway. He would just force it down, like so many other drinks in the past, and then drift off to a good night's sleep. Elrond hadn't been in his bed for at least two weeks and its silken sheets beckoned to him as he caught sight of them in his peripheral vision. His ears picked up the creak of his door opening and he immediately looked up. Instead of Figwit, he was greeted by Glorfindel.
"Your margarita awaits." Glorfindel said with a little bow.
"What happened to Figwit?" Questioned Elrond.
Glorfindel snickered. "Poor little chap didn't know what it was. Can you imagine that?"
"Anything's possible, I suppose." Elrond sighed. Glorfindel's back was against the door and he stared blankly at the elf lord. Elrond noticed that there Glorfindel's hands held nothing. "Where is it?"
"What?"
"My margarita?"
"In here, Elrond?" Asked Glorfindel. The degree of shock in his voice made Elrond feel uneasy.
Elrond looked around his room. "What's wrong with in here?"
"Nothing, I suppose. I just thought this room was kind of a scared realm, not to be corrupted by such a thing."
Elrond gaped at Glorfindel. Had he gone mad? It was only a margarita. "What's so horrible about it?"
Glorfindel's eyes rose so high they met his hairline. "Well, while I do consider it a necessity of life, you must admit, Elrond, that it is not the most saintly of practices. But no matter, you're the lord of this land, not I, and what you say goes. I'll be back with your margarita in a moment." He gently closed the door.
Not the most saintly of practices? Since when was having a drink a heinous crime? Elrond shook his head in disgust. This margarita business was becoming complicated and he wanted nothing to do with it anymore. He prayed that Glorfindel be quick about it.
Presently the door opened, but the one touching the knob was neither Glorfindel nor Figwit. In fact it was not an elf at all. A woman of about 25 slithered into his room and shut the door softly behind her. She had long brown hair that flowed freely down her shoulders to her waist. She blinked heavily mascaraed eyelashes and her lips curled into a smile as she advanced on Elrond. Her long red robes cut low in the front and had a slit up the side that ran the entire length of her leg. "How did you get in here?" Elrond demanded.
"Glorfindel let me in," the woman purred.
"Why in the world would Glorfindel…"
"Oh hush," cried the woman and gave Elrond a push in the chest. He fell back into his chair but was up in an instant.
"I beg your pardon!" He huffed, "I asked for a margarita, now for the sake of Elbereth where is it?"
"Lookin' right at ya, elfie." The woman said. "The name's Margarita. Hmm, I've never had an elf as one of my clients before. Tell me, is it true that elves lapse into Sindarian when they're having sex?" Margarita pursed her lips together innocently.
Elrond's ears turned bright red and he pushed the woman roughly aside as he pulled open the door. "GLORFINDEL!" He bellowed, and the entire Homely House rang with his cry.
You likee? I hope so. Wanna see more of Elrond and his… lady friend? (It won't get too sick, I promise) Just send me a review and your wish is granted. Tata for now.
Who is f&*k is Figwit you ask? There is the one elf in the LOTR movie that sits next to Aragorn, that the random and sudden fans of him have named Figwit. This little fellow seems to have quite an online following. I don't know anything about his personality or background, so I made up some stuff. He's kinda annoying so consider this an apology to all Figwit lovers.
THE LORD OF IMALDRIS HAS A MARGARITA.
Elrond slammed the door to his chamber and collapsed in his fireside chair. Talk about a bad week: infected hobbits, evil rings of power, an all day council meeting in which everyone and their mother stood up to bicker for 20 minutes with everyone else, and now: he had a splitting migraine. He massaged his temples with his hand and stared into the fire. He had a sudden strong desire to jump into it, not that it would do any good anyway- just give him some severe burns and fill the room with the putrid smell of burning elf-hair. It was times like these that he wondered why he had chosen to be counted among elves instead of men. At least if he were human he would be long dead by now.
"I need a break," he muttered, and, sighing, leaned his head against the back of his chair. His eyes closed and he was just drifting off into a nice dream when the door crashed open.
He sat bolt upright in his chair and glared at the elf who had just burst into his room. He was very young, with long thick brown hair tied back in the traditional elvish fashion. His pointy nose matched his ears perfectly and his eyes were as big as saucers. "Oh Lord Elrond," he squeaked, "I hope I have not awoken or interrupted you."
"You've done both, Figwit." He sighed and then seeing the horrified look on the young elf's face added, "But no matter. What do you want?"
"Your Lordship," Figwit continued, nervously pacing the area before the elf lord and blinking his eyes. "I hope this does not anger you or cause you distress. I do not mean to disturb you. I have come here merely to thank you."
The elf lord's grey eyes pierced Figwit's skull. "For what?" He deadpanned.
"Oh," Figwit cried, "for inviting me to the council today. I felt very honored to be part of such and important decision like what to do with the One Ring because I am very young, sir, and a lot of the older elves do not take me seriously…"
Elrond groaned and put his head in his hands. All he wanted was some sleep and a break from this topic.
"…and I must say, sir, that your comments were exceptionally enlightening to me, my being so inexperienced and humble, your excellency."
The voice stopped suddenly. "My lord," Figwit continued, "is… something wrong?"
"Not a thing, child," Elrond lamented. "I'm just… rather tired, that's all. And… I seem to have quite a splitting headache."
"Oh your Excellency!" Elrond winced as Figwit's voice entered octaves that most elf-maidens couldn't hit. "I HAVE been disturbing you! Oh my severest and sincerest apologies, my lord. You have no idea how it pains me to see you distressed. Please, oh please, sir, if there's anything I can do."
"There's nothing, Figwit, just be on your way," Elrond said curtly.
"No, no, sir, really. I am forever your servant. Please shall I tuck you into your bed? Fluff your pillow? Run you a nice hot bath, sir? How about a massage?"
"No, Figwit, I'm really quite all right," Elrond said through gritted teeth.
"Oh nonsense, Master Elrond," replied Figwit. "I know what I shall do. I will give your hair a nice brushing and re-braid it for you."
"No, Figwit, that's really not necessary," Elrond protested.
"Oh it's my pleasure, sir, really." Figwit reached out and clutched the silver circlet on Elrond's head.
"DON'T TOUCH THAT!" Elrond roared.
The younger elf jumped back immediately and cowered with shaking hands over his face. "I'm sorry, your Excellency. I didn't mean to cause any harm. Just let me do something for you as a token of my great respect and allegiance."
Elrond sighed. If he complied with Figwit then he'd leave him alone. "Get me…" The elf lord started but from there had no idea how to finish. There was nothing he wanted except his bed, and he didn't relish the idea of Figwit tucking him in like a child. After a minute, Elrond said the first thing that had come into his mind. "A margarita."
A look of relief, then confusion spread across Figwit's face. "A… a margarita, sir?"
"Yes."
The two stared at each other in silence for a moment.
"Oh," cried Figwit. "Yes, yes, a margarita, of course. What a splendid idea!" Figwit clapped his hands happily. "I shall have your margarita to you before you can say Minas Tirith, Master." Figwit turned and rushed from the room. Closing the door behind him, Figwit skipped blissfully along the corridor until a thought struck him: how was he supposed to find a margarita if he didn't know what one was? "Oh dear," whispered Figwit. "Oh dear me, this is not good at all."
Now what was he to do? Figwit mentally kicked himself. He should have known better by now than to promise his lord something unknown to him. He couldn't go back there and ask him what it was. That would be utterly humiliating. The poor elf was just about to sit down and cry, when down the hallway he spied his salvation. Glorfindel had just stepped out of the Hall of Fire.
Figwit raced to Glorfindel and skidded to a stop at his heels. "Ah, Figwit," said Glorfindel and smiled down kindly at the elf. "How have you been, dear boy? And, my goodness, is everything all right?"
Figwit held up a finger as he tried to catch his breath. "I've just come…" he gasped, "from… Lord Elrond's room."
Glorfindel's eyes widened. "I was just about to check on him. He left the Hall earlier than usual this evening. Is he ok?"
"He's fine, generally," replied Figwit. "Just tired. I insisted that he let me do something for him and he told me to get him…" Figwit stopped suddenly and looked cautiously around him, "…a margarita. You know that I would get him anything his heart desires, Glorfindel, but you see…", at this point, Figwit leaned in close to Glorfindel and his voice dropped to a whisper, "I don't know what a margarita is." Figwit stepped back and looked hopefully at Glorfindel.
The other elf simply blinked and stared at his companion. "Margarita, eh?" Mused Glorfindel, then, much to Figwit's shock, he burst out laughing.
"What?" Cried Figwit.
"So, Lord Elrond has finally decided to join the living. God, it must be 3000, 4000 years since the last time. Oh!" Glorfindel clutched his sides and grinned wickedly. "He MUST be stressed in order to go long a time without having it and then suddenly call upon it again. Personally, I'm quite glad for him. It will be good for him. The Lord of Imaldris shall have his margarita."
"But…" sputtered Figwit, "but what's a margarita?"
"Oh dear boy, it doesn't surprise me that you don't know what it is," replied Glorfindel. "After all, you are but an elfling. You will learn more of such things as you grow older." Glorfindel patted Figwit on his shoulder. "Don't you worry a thing about it. I will take care of everything."
With a swish of his robes, Glorfindel had vanished, leaving Figwit standing dumbfounded in the hallway.
* * *
Meanwhile, Elrond leaned back in his chair and stared at the celing. He had sent Figwit almost 20 minutes ago. What was taking him so long? Elrond decided that he would give Figwit 5 more minutes and then turn in for bed. It was not like he wanted the drink anyway. He would just force it down, like so many other drinks in the past, and then drift off to a good night's sleep. Elrond hadn't been in his bed for at least two weeks and its silken sheets beckoned to him as he caught sight of them in his peripheral vision. His ears picked up the creak of his door opening and he immediately looked up. Instead of Figwit, he was greeted by Glorfindel.
"Your margarita awaits." Glorfindel said with a little bow.
"What happened to Figwit?" Questioned Elrond.
Glorfindel snickered. "Poor little chap didn't know what it was. Can you imagine that?"
"Anything's possible, I suppose." Elrond sighed. Glorfindel's back was against the door and he stared blankly at the elf lord. Elrond noticed that there Glorfindel's hands held nothing. "Where is it?"
"What?"
"My margarita?"
"In here, Elrond?" Asked Glorfindel. The degree of shock in his voice made Elrond feel uneasy.
Elrond looked around his room. "What's wrong with in here?"
"Nothing, I suppose. I just thought this room was kind of a scared realm, not to be corrupted by such a thing."
Elrond gaped at Glorfindel. Had he gone mad? It was only a margarita. "What's so horrible about it?"
Glorfindel's eyes rose so high they met his hairline. "Well, while I do consider it a necessity of life, you must admit, Elrond, that it is not the most saintly of practices. But no matter, you're the lord of this land, not I, and what you say goes. I'll be back with your margarita in a moment." He gently closed the door.
Not the most saintly of practices? Since when was having a drink a heinous crime? Elrond shook his head in disgust. This margarita business was becoming complicated and he wanted nothing to do with it anymore. He prayed that Glorfindel be quick about it.
Presently the door opened, but the one touching the knob was neither Glorfindel nor Figwit. In fact it was not an elf at all. A woman of about 25 slithered into his room and shut the door softly behind her. She had long brown hair that flowed freely down her shoulders to her waist. She blinked heavily mascaraed eyelashes and her lips curled into a smile as she advanced on Elrond. Her long red robes cut low in the front and had a slit up the side that ran the entire length of her leg. "How did you get in here?" Elrond demanded.
"Glorfindel let me in," the woman purred.
"Why in the world would Glorfindel…"
"Oh hush," cried the woman and gave Elrond a push in the chest. He fell back into his chair but was up in an instant.
"I beg your pardon!" He huffed, "I asked for a margarita, now for the sake of Elbereth where is it?"
"Lookin' right at ya, elfie." The woman said. "The name's Margarita. Hmm, I've never had an elf as one of my clients before. Tell me, is it true that elves lapse into Sindarian when they're having sex?" Margarita pursed her lips together innocently.
Elrond's ears turned bright red and he pushed the woman roughly aside as he pulled open the door. "GLORFINDEL!" He bellowed, and the entire Homely House rang with his cry.
You likee? I hope so. Wanna see more of Elrond and his… lady friend? (It won't get too sick, I promise) Just send me a review and your wish is granted. Tata for now.