A/N: First: obviously we have problems. Second: lots of problems. This story was written by myself and OneSizeFitsAll- say hi! HI!
We are both insane, and when we write together our insanity doubles. NO KIDDING. (I ACTUALLY THINK IT MAGICALLY TRIPLES…) And we were writing this late at night, so, ya know… If you like this then keep an eye out for our next co-writing experience that we're going to do. That one we'll be publishing on Gem's account (in case you're wondering who Gem is she is also known as Onezie, Fitz, and OneSizeFitsAll.) LILY! I KEEP TELLING YOU NOT TO CALL ME ONEZIE!
Needless to say, this cowriting thing was extremely interesting. We're publishing the full, UNEDITED version of this story on our LiveJournals (which there are links to on our profiles) and it's much funnier so please go read! I think we shall call it: Cowriting: A Parody. -I LIKE THAT. Seriously. It's ridiculous. We left in all our notes, and, as you can see simply from this authors' note, that could be quite interesting.
Enjoy the story and leave a review, I command you!
Snow Day in Imladris
By Lindsey-Aubrey and FitsAll
It was snowing in Imladris. Not a nasty, dirty, wet snow, that would turn to slush in a minute; nor a dry, powdery, cold snow, that wouldn't pack at all. It was an Imladris snow, and that means snowballs.
Lindir knew this. He knew this quite well. He should have remembered the last time he had gone out in Imladris during a snowy day. But he was lost in his own little world; his mind world of music and butterflies and birds trilling.
At least, he was until he was startled out of it by something hitting him- wham!- in the neck, and then dripping uncomfortably down his back.
Lindir grunted. Lindir frowned. Lindir turned around to see where the "something" had flown from. But wham! came another snowball, right into the hole of the saxaphone he was carrying. The saxaphone gave a bit of a sickly wheeze.
"Haldir," said Lindir, spying the criminal up in a nearby tree, "please stop this childish behavior."
"Just trying to have some fun," said Haldir sheepishly.
"I think you should stay away from Glorfindel," said Lindir, who was trying to give himself a superiority complex to balance out his inferiority one. "He's a bad influence on you."
"I haven't talked to Glorfindel since I got here," complained Haldir, climbing out of the tree. "Actually, I just got here. I was going to go look for him, but then saw you mooning around and decided it would be more fun to snowball you. Really, you looked so moony. Almost as bad as Orophin here."
"Orophin?" asked Lindir, instinctively freezing solid. "Here?"
"Of course," said Haldir. "We all came. It doesn't snow in Lothlorien...Galadriel doesn't like her mirror freezing over...so we got a vacation and came up to Imladris."
"All...of...you...came?" said Lindir, almost fainting. "ALL of you?"
"Just us three," said Haldir. "We were having a snowball fight."
"He was having a snowball fight," said Rumil, appearing suddenly with his nose in the air.
Rumil had this odd idea that he was too sophisticated for snowball fights.
"Well," said Lindir, deciding the make the best of a bad situation, "since you're here, you should hear my newest composition." He happily lifted the saxaphone to his lips and blew a horrible blast.
The saxaphone was not happy, and why should it be? Being stuffed with snow and then being blowed upon is not the most pleasant of things to happen to something. It gave another wheeze and a cough, and then spouted the snow in all directions.
But especially in one direction.
One specific, singularly unhappy direction.
Straight smack-dab like an arrow in a target into Glorfindel's face.
No, not Elrond's, although he's usually the one who gets this kind of treatment.
Now although Glorfindel cannot match Elrond in a battle of yelling by any means, he is still a formidable enemy. His eyes are fire. His snarl is death. His hair is a hurricane.
Elrond looked out the window of his study. It was a specially located window, placed there on purpose by Celebrian so that Elrond could look out and see the butterflies flitting past during stressful hours. There were a few slight problems now, though. There weren't any butterflies flitting past; Lindir had caught them all. There weren't stressful hours; there were stressful days, weeks, months. What's more, the window always reminded him of Celebrian now, and she was gone.
The worst problem, though, was that not only did it not let in the peaceful sights like planned; it let in terrible sights. Usually of elves. Lots of elves. Often elves chasing each other.
Just now, for instance. There went three- no, four. Haldir, and there was Rumil in the front, hair streaming out behind him, nose delicately pointed at the sky. Elrond hadn't known he could run that fast. And, oh, yes, Lindir in the back. That was typical. Ah, and now came their pursuer. It was Glorfindel. Elrond was glad Celeborn hadn't been in the room. If he had been, Elrond would have bet him that it would be Legolas, and he'd have lost, of course.
Elrond sighed. He supposed he'd have to do something about this. He stood up and pulled on his warmer robe before heading out the door to go find the group of troublesome elves.
"LINDIR!" shouted Glorfindel.
"It was them!" squeaked Lindir, pointing at the unfortunate Lothlorien duo beside him.
Before Glorfindel could state his disbelief of that claim or attack, Lord Elrond made it to them. He was wearing a beaming smile. Much too beaming. It almost melted the snow surrounding him.
"Hello, my friends," he said evilly. "I'm sorry, but I must ask of you a favor."
Glorfindel, regaining some composure and straightening his beautiful robes, cleared his throat. "Of course, my lord, anything you wish."
Idiot, thought Rumil, looking down the bridge of his nose.
"There happens to be a shortage of wood inside," said Elrond malevolently. "I need you to carry some over from over there-" Elrond gestured vaguely "to over here. Orophin, you go get the cart and bring it here, the rest of you carry it inside."
Elrond flounced off, his evil purpose accomplished, and the hapless elves gazed at each other in disgust and disbelief.
"No," said Glorfindel faintly.
"It'll ruin my hair-set," Rumil complained.
"I hate stacking wood," pouted Haldir. "This was supposed to be a vacation."
"I was just about to go practice my new composition," protested Lindir.
Orophin was gazing moonily at the sky and hadn't heard a word Lord Elrond had said.
"We have to do it," said Glorfindel in a depressed voice, "or no banquet tonight. I know Lord Elrond."
Haldir whimpered...or maybe they all did. Then they limped over to the pile of wood and mournfully began picking it up, piece by piece.
"Hey, Orophin," called Haldir, chucking a piece of wood at him without realizing how dangerous this was. Thankfully he was not used to aiming large, heavy, waterlogged pieces of wood and missed. "Get to work! You need to go get that cart thingummy."
"What?" murmured Orophin, his mind still enveloped in a pale, pleasant green haze where it had been wandering since the trio had reached Rivendell and Haldir and Rumil had consequently stopped dragging him by the arm pits.
"GO GET THE CART!" shouted Rumil, for once forgetting his dignity enough to lower his nose from the air.
"What cart?" asked Orophin, snapping out of his daydream and cowering against the wall. Rumil did not shout very often, but when he did, Orophin knew that he was very dangerous indeed.
"In the garage. black wagon," intervened Glorfindel, taking pity on him...or maybe just to spite Rumil.
Orophin scurried off to fetch it.
Well, that's one of them out of the way, thought Lindir morosely. I wonder if there's a way for me to slip out of this…
"Would you like some tea, milord?" asked Lindir sweetly, sticking his head through the window.
"No, thank you," said Elrond. "Erestor has gotten me some."
Lindir returned to the growing stack of wood, shoulders slumped, head hanging. "I tried," he sighed inwardly.
Glorfindel was getting bored. He hated this sort of work. The same thing over and over again: lift piece of wood, throw it at Haldir's head. Life piece of wood, throw it at Haldir's head. It was getting monotonous. Time for something new. Time for something exciting. Time to bother Lindir!
"Wooohoooooo!" began Glorfindel, swinging his foot through the snow in order to fling it all over Lindir. But the cry ended in an impained screech. His foot had hit a stone.
Lindir the astute quickly guessed what had happened, although Glorfindel couldn't tell him through his gasps of pain, nor would he have even if his speech hadn't been hindered by such things. The minstrel was highly amused, and degraded himself by chortling mirthily.
"Man, what happened, man?" asked Gildor, showing up just then.
"Man, what you guys doing, man?" asked Galdor, showing up at his side.
Rumil slowly raised his shaking finger to point at them. His hair was flying in his face, his robes were wet with snow, and his eyes had a wild maniacal look in them. "What are they doing here?" he all but screeched. "Why aren't they in the Havens? WHY AREN'T THEY IN VALINOR?"
"I'm going home," said Haldir, giving the unholy duo a single blank glance and dropping the piece of wood.
On his toe.
Rumil was wiser. He hurled the piece of wood he held at Galdor.
Galdor ducked.
The piece of wood went straight through Elrond's window.
Not that Rumil cared. He turned and marched toward the gate of Rivendell, followed by Haldir, still hopping up and down on one foot and wailing about his toe.
"Wait!" cried Lindir and Glorfindel in the same breath.
"You can't leave us here alone!" howled Glorfindel in despair.
"Get Gildor and Galdor to help you," said Rumil, nose once more in the air.
"There must be a way to stop them," said Lindir cleverly, turning to Glorfindel.
"To stop them a way there must be!" Glorfindel agreed, nodding.
"A plan we must think of," said Lindir.
"Yes," said Glorfindel.
"..." said Lindir. "No."
"What?" said Glorfindel.
Lindir lifted his head a little, folded his hands, and cleared his throat. "Ahem.
There must be a way to stop them,
To stop them a way there must be!
A plan we must think of,
Or we'll be on the brink of
A banquet for all except we!
Ahem," Lindir concluded.
"..." said Glorfindel.
"..." said Glorfindel.
Glorfindel banged Lindir severely on the head, and stalked off after Rumil and Haldir.
"I thought it was rather good," said Lindir dizzily.
Glorfindel had a good way to making the two other blondes do as he said. He simply grabbed them each by a sticky-out elven ear, perfectly pointed in order for easy grabbing, and pulled them back to the wood pile (which was steadily growing, due to Orophin's unceasing labor).
"Get to work and no shirking or you'll be in a balrog's belly before Lindir can sing Tralally!"
"It's not tralally," sniffed Lindir. "Ahem. Tralalalalally, here down in the vall-"
We all know what happened.
Oh, wait, no we don't. It wasn't Glorfindel who bonked him on the head this time.
Wait, hold on, it wasn't a bonk on the head, either.
It was a piece of wood.
Thrown from the window.
Lord Elrond's window.
Oh, yes. Newsflash! Elrond doesn't like things being chucked through his window.
Sorry, Lindir.
"Work, Galdor. Gildor. Ramen. Haldil. Whatsit. Whatever your names are!" said Glorfindel, ignoring the thing wrapped in purple and decorated with silver butterflies lying at his feet. Well, trying not to lie. Trying to get up. Rather helplessly.
"Ow," Lindir observed. And winced.
"Aaah," said Haldir, "Orophin is coming back and we haven't even carried a single load inside yet!"
"QUIIIIICK!" yelled Glorfindel, swinging his knives. For some reason he thought that was how you get things done quickly.
"Ahh!" screamed Lindir and threw himself on the ground again, from which he had just managed to get up.
Haldir and Rumil simply backed away.
Gildor and Galdor were busy kicking snow at each other. They never seemed to learn that if they stopped kicking, they'd stop stubbing their toes.
"Ouch!" they kept shouting.
"Idiots," said a voice.
An unwelcome voice.
The voice of *dun dun dun* Legolaaaaas *dun dun dun*
"-_-" said everyone within three miles.
"Why don't you help?" asked Gildor the idiot.
"Yeah, why don't you help?" asked Galdor the other idiot.
Lindir and Glorfindel didn't like to think they were idiots, so they pretended that Gildor and Galdor hadn't been addressing them and simply made reproachful faces at the others, as if they agreed wholeheartedly with their synopsis of their intelligence levels.
Haldir and Rumil didn't hear or see any of this. Their heads were buried in the snow.
Literally.
Buried.
Haldir was a little annoyed that no one had noticed yet, and Rumil was a little annoyed that no one had noticed, too, since he was rather not happy about the situation. It was messing up his hair.
"Urgh," he said, struggling.
"Hld shtill," ordered Haldir, pulling him in deeper.
"Why does it feel like the beach?" asked Gildor.
Elrond was unhappy. He could see everything that was going on through his (now broken) window, and it made him feel as if he was going insane. (I'm sure all you readers can completely understand; you probably feel insane now too.)
"That's enough wood now," he called, hoping for all the insanity to end.
"That's enough wood, Orophin," everyone yelled at that singularly stupid blonde. Orophin didn't hear. He was thinking about OneSizeFitsAll-knows-what. If hearing the others made Elrond feel insane, looking at Orophin made everyone else feel doubly so.
Lindir was busy wondering why he had ever entered Imladris in the first place; Glorfindel was busy trying to release his anger by bashing in Haldir's head; Gildor and Galdor were busy alternating between kicking each other and yelling "ow" really loudly; Rumil was still struggling to make Haldir let him out of the snow bank; Haldir was fending off Glorfindel's attacks and holding Rumil down; Legolas was sitting in the tree and laughing; and Elrond happened to be walking up to stop the insanity.
It was really quite unfortunate. Lindir was only trying to toss his butterfly net out of the way, you see. Glorfindel had been aiming for Haldir, not Elrond. Gildor and Galdor couldn't' help it if an elven lord chose to step between them while they were in serious combat. Rumil didn't know that Elrond was standing above him just as he popped out of the snow. Haldir couldn't know that the hand he swung to shield himself from Glorfindel's piece of wood would hit Elrond. Legolas didn't see Elrond beneath him before he leapt to the ground.
Erestor didn't see Elrond when he chucked a large fagot at the battling group of immature elves.
Elrond was hit by everything at once. Who could have picked better timing? Melkor must have been rubbing his hands together and cackling maniacally, down in the void.
The entire universe, from Middle Earth, to Valinor, to Eru and his Ainur stood still in their tracks (other than Melkor cackling in the void). Now, everyone knows that it is the inescapable destiny of half-elven lords, especially of Lord Elrond, to constantly be hit by things that were not meant to hit them. This had happened so many times before to Elrond, with snowballs, pillows, pies, and pieces of wood that it was scarcely a surprise that it should happen again. But the fact that so many different things had hit Elrond all at the very same moment on a day when he was not in a good mood in the first place made every elf in all of Arda and beyond want to flee to the Void itself to escape the inevitable wrath of the venerable half-elven lord.
There was a shuddering silence. Arda seemed to stop turning for a full minute. Even the Valar held their breaths.
Slowly the elves present opened their eyes and looked at Elrond. To their horror they saw that he was completely knocked out.
'I have never seen that,' said Erestor, eyes wide with surprise and disbelief.
'I don't believe this,' said Glorfindel. 'Lord Elrond doesn't simply get knocked out!'
'In all the times I've seen him get hit in the face with things, I've never seen him knocked unconscious,' said Legolas reverently.
Elrond made a slight movement.
Every elf ran.
The End.
βlἄh
A/N: And so Lily and Onezi succeeded in their plot to make everyone who reads their stories insane. ^-^ I don't know how we came up with this... oh yea that's right. We had to stack wood and a lot of this kind of thing happened to us (including but not limited to people trying to kick snow at each other and ending up stubbing their toes; tripping on random things; getting yelled at; being unable to stop the person who kept bringing wood to where we had to carry it from). We draw our inspiration from the things that happen to us.
And by the way, I did most of the heavy lifting for this story. Like, I had to write most of it, so, you know, don't give Onezi too much credit. She doesn't know I'm writing this in the author's note so she may burst a blood vessel when she reads this. Just sayin'. And she hasn't seen the cover picture yet, either. There's going to be some serious screaming going on over here in a little while... Not to change the subject, but I can't believe my epic 'BLAH' showed up. I thought it would not recognize those symbols.
I COMMAND YOU TO REVIEW! Thanks for bearing with us through this painful episode of crazyness. It's not our fault. We just stayed up way too late. :(