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Author: Tro
Title: Of Tea and Skivvies
Characters/Pairing: Er, there are some~
Rating: PG
Series: Nope, thank you ^^
URL: http://www.dark-dreams.com
Summary: Tro's theory on how Gandalf went from Grey to White *nodnod* the REAL reason that is~
Notes: Just in case you havent read them, Fiz is from Dragonlance and Death Gate Cycle (tho in DGC he mostly goes by Zifnab) and in DGC he mentions Gandalf's skivvies at one point, and I just remembered that earlier today n thus the ficlet was born >P go me ^^
Feedback: Uh~ long as it doesn't involve hot pokers *nodnod* unless they're used in really interesting ways ^^
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Gandalf fell into shadow.
And landed with a thud. Well, it was more of a squishy, plopping sound, but never mind that.
"Oh, look who dropped in!" An eerily familiar voice assaulted his ears. Gandalf promptly decided the best course of action was to pass out and play dead. And so he did.
Several hours later, the scent of brimstone tickling his nose, Gandalf finally deigned to wake. His eyes opened only to focus on a smiling, bearded face under a tattered brown hat. He quickly slammed them shut, hoping that perhaps he was seeing things, having taken one too many hits to the head from the cave troll. Unfortunately for him, when his eyes opened again, the vision of trouble incarnate was still there.
Damn.
"Fizban," he stated, a sense of dread filling his heart as even as the Balrog had. Speaking of Balrogs...
"Gezundheit," Fizban exclaimed, turning to the card table behind him, where the Balrog sat, calmly sipping a delicate porcelain cup of tea. "Humphry-"
"Hubert. Hubert Wiffel the IV," the Balrog interrupted.
"Herbert, do pass me a napkin. Gandalf seems to have the sniffles!"
Gandalf pondered the plausibility of asphyxiation by will alone. Then he realized that he was naked. Well, he was in a pair of loud, glow in the dark green and purple boxers that he distinctly had not put on this morning, but that was it.
"Where are my clothes?"
Fizban coughed and scratched the back of his head, nearly toppling his crumpled hat from his head. "Well, er, have some tea with us, will you? We can get around to that later."
With a sinking feeling, Gandalf sighed and rose to his feet. He'd never get a straight answer out of the other wizard until he was good and ready to tell it, if he remembered the question that is. Besides, it was cold on the floor, and a rock had been poking him in a rather awkward place.
Casting a wary glance at the Balrog, he pulled out a chair and sat down. Fizban cheerfully plopped a steaming cup of tea before him before sitting himself.
"Don't mind him, he's shy," the eccentric wizard apologized in an exaggerated whisper, gesturing none too discretely to the Balrog with one hand.
"Right. About my clothes..." Gandalf started, hoping to steer the scatter brained old man onto the subject with subtlety not unlike a ton of bricks.
"All in good time, my boy! Marshmallows?" Fizban held out a baggy and shook it invitingly.
At Gandalf's blank look, he jiggled the bag some more. "Marshmallows for your cocoa?"
"We're having tea, Zifnab," the Balrog commented, casually moving his cup out of range as the elderly wizard attempted drop a few marshmallows in his tea.
"Oh, right, I knew that," Fizban nodded so vigorously that he did knock his hat off. "Drink up, Gandalf!"
Dubiously, Gandalf raised the cup to his lips and took a cautious sip. It really was just tea. He took another drink, reveling in the surprisingly pleasant blend of herbs.
"So, I hear you visited the Slut Lord of Rivendell," the other wizard began cheerfully. Gandalf promptly proceeded to choke on his delicately flavoured tea. "Are he and oh, what's his name... blond... Lego? Lego something~ Legoland... No, that's not right... Ah! Legolas!" He looked very pleased with himself, oblivious to Gandalf's choking while Hubert pounded on his back. "Right, are he and that Legolas chap still sneaking around or have they come out of the proverbial closet?"
Wheezing, Gandalf nodded his thanks to the Balrog, then shook his head. "A wizard doesn't gossip!" he proclaimed, gathering his dignity around him like the cloak he no longer wore.
Fizban snorted, "Where's the fun in that! Oh!" He made a grand gesture of digging out a scrap of paper from his robe and sliding it across the table to the other wizard. "Give that to Gimli next time you see him."
Gandalf glanced down at the paper, on which was written a cellphone number and the name 'Flint'. He sighed, "No more blind dates! And where are my clothes!"
Fizban's smile faltered for a moment, "Er, heh, yeah, about that..." He coughed and scuffed his feet on the floor under his chair for a minute, then scraped together his courage and faced the other wizard eye to eye. "I'm afraid I accidentally bleached your skivvies."
"You -what-?!"
"It was like this. Your clothes were just filthy and I was just trying to get them clean, but I seem to have grabbed the bottle of bleach instead of the Spic N Span and that's how it happened! Then, of course, I had to bleach the rest of your clothes to match, so you wouldn't be embarrassed, of course." He smiled encouragingly.
Hubert just sighed and shook his great fiery head and sipped his tea. He wasn't going to mention that the Spin N Span was floor cleaner, and therefore located under the kitchen counter instead of the laundry cabinet. It wasn't like Fizban would remember it anyway.
Torn between outrage and outright disbelief, Gandalf leapt to his feet and slammed his hands down on the card table, rattling his teacup. "How am I supposed to be Gandalf the Grey if my clothes are white?!"
"Well, you could be Gandalf the White! Saruman's so far out of fashion he doesn't deserve the title anymore. I mean, those nails! They're -so- Second Age!" Fizban argued, gesturing with his teacup, which was thankfully empty of tea.
Gandalf sighed and sank back into his chair, leaning over the table and burying his head in his arms. He was never going to live this down. Besides, wasn't it a faux pas to wear white after Labor Day?
Looking between the beaming face of the now hatless wizard and the sympathetic visage of the Balrog, Gandalf came to a profound epiphany.
He never should have gotten out of bed.
End.
Author: Tro
Title: Of Tea and Skivvies
Characters/Pairing: Er, there are some~
Rating: PG
Series: Nope, thank you ^^
URL: http://www.dark-dreams.com
Summary: Tro's theory on how Gandalf went from Grey to White *nodnod* the REAL reason that is~
Notes: Just in case you havent read them, Fiz is from Dragonlance and Death Gate Cycle (tho in DGC he mostly goes by Zifnab) and in DGC he mentions Gandalf's skivvies at one point, and I just remembered that earlier today n thus the ficlet was born >P go me ^^
Feedback: Uh~ long as it doesn't involve hot pokers *nodnod* unless they're used in really interesting ways ^^
*****************************************
Gandalf fell into shadow.
And landed with a thud. Well, it was more of a squishy, plopping sound, but never mind that.
"Oh, look who dropped in!" An eerily familiar voice assaulted his ears. Gandalf promptly decided the best course of action was to pass out and play dead. And so he did.
Several hours later, the scent of brimstone tickling his nose, Gandalf finally deigned to wake. His eyes opened only to focus on a smiling, bearded face under a tattered brown hat. He quickly slammed them shut, hoping that perhaps he was seeing things, having taken one too many hits to the head from the cave troll. Unfortunately for him, when his eyes opened again, the vision of trouble incarnate was still there.
Damn.
"Fizban," he stated, a sense of dread filling his heart as even as the Balrog had. Speaking of Balrogs...
"Gezundheit," Fizban exclaimed, turning to the card table behind him, where the Balrog sat, calmly sipping a delicate porcelain cup of tea. "Humphry-"
"Hubert. Hubert Wiffel the IV," the Balrog interrupted.
"Herbert, do pass me a napkin. Gandalf seems to have the sniffles!"
Gandalf pondered the plausibility of asphyxiation by will alone. Then he realized that he was naked. Well, he was in a pair of loud, glow in the dark green and purple boxers that he distinctly had not put on this morning, but that was it.
"Where are my clothes?"
Fizban coughed and scratched the back of his head, nearly toppling his crumpled hat from his head. "Well, er, have some tea with us, will you? We can get around to that later."
With a sinking feeling, Gandalf sighed and rose to his feet. He'd never get a straight answer out of the other wizard until he was good and ready to tell it, if he remembered the question that is. Besides, it was cold on the floor, and a rock had been poking him in a rather awkward place.
Casting a wary glance at the Balrog, he pulled out a chair and sat down. Fizban cheerfully plopped a steaming cup of tea before him before sitting himself.
"Don't mind him, he's shy," the eccentric wizard apologized in an exaggerated whisper, gesturing none too discretely to the Balrog with one hand.
"Right. About my clothes..." Gandalf started, hoping to steer the scatter brained old man onto the subject with subtlety not unlike a ton of bricks.
"All in good time, my boy! Marshmallows?" Fizban held out a baggy and shook it invitingly.
At Gandalf's blank look, he jiggled the bag some more. "Marshmallows for your cocoa?"
"We're having tea, Zifnab," the Balrog commented, casually moving his cup out of range as the elderly wizard attempted drop a few marshmallows in his tea.
"Oh, right, I knew that," Fizban nodded so vigorously that he did knock his hat off. "Drink up, Gandalf!"
Dubiously, Gandalf raised the cup to his lips and took a cautious sip. It really was just tea. He took another drink, reveling in the surprisingly pleasant blend of herbs.
"So, I hear you visited the Slut Lord of Rivendell," the other wizard began cheerfully. Gandalf promptly proceeded to choke on his delicately flavoured tea. "Are he and oh, what's his name... blond... Lego? Lego something~ Legoland... No, that's not right... Ah! Legolas!" He looked very pleased with himself, oblivious to Gandalf's choking while Hubert pounded on his back. "Right, are he and that Legolas chap still sneaking around or have they come out of the proverbial closet?"
Wheezing, Gandalf nodded his thanks to the Balrog, then shook his head. "A wizard doesn't gossip!" he proclaimed, gathering his dignity around him like the cloak he no longer wore.
Fizban snorted, "Where's the fun in that! Oh!" He made a grand gesture of digging out a scrap of paper from his robe and sliding it across the table to the other wizard. "Give that to Gimli next time you see him."
Gandalf glanced down at the paper, on which was written a cellphone number and the name 'Flint'. He sighed, "No more blind dates! And where are my clothes!"
Fizban's smile faltered for a moment, "Er, heh, yeah, about that..." He coughed and scuffed his feet on the floor under his chair for a minute, then scraped together his courage and faced the other wizard eye to eye. "I'm afraid I accidentally bleached your skivvies."
"You -what-?!"
"It was like this. Your clothes were just filthy and I was just trying to get them clean, but I seem to have grabbed the bottle of bleach instead of the Spic N Span and that's how it happened! Then, of course, I had to bleach the rest of your clothes to match, so you wouldn't be embarrassed, of course." He smiled encouragingly.
Hubert just sighed and shook his great fiery head and sipped his tea. He wasn't going to mention that the Spin N Span was floor cleaner, and therefore located under the kitchen counter instead of the laundry cabinet. It wasn't like Fizban would remember it anyway.
Torn between outrage and outright disbelief, Gandalf leapt to his feet and slammed his hands down on the card table, rattling his teacup. "How am I supposed to be Gandalf the Grey if my clothes are white?!"
"Well, you could be Gandalf the White! Saruman's so far out of fashion he doesn't deserve the title anymore. I mean, those nails! They're -so- Second Age!" Fizban argued, gesturing with his teacup, which was thankfully empty of tea.
Gandalf sighed and sank back into his chair, leaning over the table and burying his head in his arms. He was never going to live this down. Besides, wasn't it a faux pas to wear white after Labor Day?
Looking between the beaming face of the now hatless wizard and the sympathetic visage of the Balrog, Gandalf came to a profound epiphany.
He never should have gotten out of bed.
End.