I realized- thanks to La pit' ete, that this somehow got deleted...oops. Don't worry, I will get all of the requests up; some of them will just take longer than others. Kyon, my kitty muse, has informed me that tuna is not enough anymore; he wants big, meaty reviews. So please supply him (and me) and you might get to see a cat spirit's happy dance!!

Scene of the Council of Elrond. The famous line that Legolas delivers after Boromir's speech, and my theory on the real reason why he shouted it.

Nametags

Legolas sighed as the Rivendell breeze caressed his face. It was a very lucky breeze, he concluded, to have the chance to touch his face and play through his hair. Not every wind got that opportunity- especially with such a striking, astute, charistmatic, alluring, generous, humble elf.

He allowed himself a humble smirk.

Surveying the motley crowd gathered around him during this Council of Elrond (it included dwarves, for Eru's sake!), Legolas focused in on a man who, it must be admitted, had an aroma that was less than hygienic. In fact, it could be called smelly. But Legolas would not go so far as to call names.

Who was he? His nameplate was not to be seen. Surveying his own pure mithril nametag with well-founded pride, Legolas decided that the man must not have been important enough to keep in mind; ah well, the resourceful elf would just call him Ranger for the time being. Although…he did look familiar.

A slow-looking man whose tag read 'Boromir' also scrutinized Ranger, before starting to whine about his country's border security. Pssh. Perhaps it wouldn't be that bad if all the soldiers would just quit taking vacations. Legolas immediately smiled and inwardly congratulated himself on his astounding problem-solving skills. He himself should take over Middle-Earth, if only to ensure that it ran smoothly.

Eventually, the understaffed Gondorian's tirade wound down and silence settled. Legolas shifted in his chair. Perhaps it was time for cream pastries and those little cheesy nibbly bits he was so fond of.

Shift, glance, pause.

Elrond glanced expectantly at him. Legolas supposed that the Elf Lord had finally realized how horridly inferior his brown hair was in comparison to his own. Really, brown? How outdated.

Smirk, shift, wait.

Elrond rose his slender, yet brunette and therefore substandard, brow at Legolas before nodding towards Ranger. Yes, the un-nametagged man was rather out of place but why point that out to him?

Glance, confusion.

Elrond sighed exhasperatedly and rubbed his forehead. "Say the line!" he hissed. Legolas stared blankly back at the other elf.

"To Boromir! Tell Boromir who the Ranger is!"

Well of course, he needed telling. Elrond hadn't bothered to make introductions and the Ranger's nameplate was missing! Suddenly, Legolas' keen eyes spotted it- hanging by a thread, half-hidden, and dirty, but there all the same. A…r…a...q…no, g…

Twenty seconds later Legolas jumped up from his seat in triumph. "He is no mere Ranger! He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn!" Oh yes, Estel. The grubby little kid who had followed him all over the palace, trying to glue honey sweets into his hair. Elrond just had to invite him.

However, Legolas had a line to say.

He continued smoothly at Elrond's prompting cough.

"Oh…er, yes. You…owe him your alliegence?" This last line was directed to Boromir who did an admirable job of looking enlightened and surprised.

Aragorn, however, only looked amused. "You forgot my name, didn't you?" All eyes swiveled from Legolas to stare at the man; not that the elf minded, Aragorn was, after all, the perfect example of what happens when you decide that saving the world is more important than personal hygiene.

Legolas, ar ranging his cape about his feet, gazed at Aragorn, his perfect brown/blue/purple eyes wide and innocent. "No…"

"Yes you did, till just now, when you saw my nametag!" Aragorn insisted.

"No, really, I-!"

Aragorn spread his hands open, as if to dispense his weather-stained wisdom to all. "You could have just asked somebody, you know. I wouldn't have minded." Legolas looked discreetly around to see if any elves were appearing with trays of delectable food. Not a leaf stirred. The thought that Elrond might be watching his weight occurred to the intelligent prince before he was oh-so-rudely interrupted for the second time.

"I'm sure somebody would have told you." Legolas scowled at the smirk on the Stinky Mortal's face.

He huffed. "Why would I ask somebody? I don't CARE about your name!"

"So you admit it, you didn't remember my name." Aragorn looked pleased with himself.

A fat, red-bearded dwarf sniggered in a corner. Legolas imagined him with a quiver-full of arrows stuck in him- in a non-violent, world-peace-is-my-goal type way, of course. And when would they be serving those cheesy nibbly bits?

"I did! I just don't care about it!"

Aragorn acted scandalized. "So you don't care about the man to whom the Steward of Gondor owes his allegiance? Whatever will that make Boromir think about Elvish nobility?"

Legolas shrugged his shoulder; by this time he couldn't even remember why he was at the Council. And he was getting stressed. Stress was not good for his golden locks; it made his scalp dry and itchy and his hair dull and lackluster. It also ruined his cuticles. In short, stress was to be avoided at all costs. And here was this Ranger waltzing in and dumping a bucket-load of it on him. Fortunately, Legolas had an easy cure for that.

"To the field!" Legolas paused, striking a dramatic pose, before prancing away down yonder to the archery field. Then he pranced right back, pledged his bow to a very confused Frodo, plucked a couple of cheesy nibbly bits off an incoming platter, and pranced down again blowing kisses all the way.

Elrond was left trying to calm the hysterical Ranger. Aragorn, son of Arathorn hadn't laughed that hard in ages.

"What just happened, Gandalf?" Frodo asked, turning to the wizard.

"I think that Legolas has just joined the Fellowship," he answered.

Several groans and thumps could be heard. Turning, the Ringbearer could see a dwarf, a man, and Aragorn, son of Arathorn unitedly hitting their heads against Elrond's shiny walls.

Please review. I've had so many people read my fics and not reviewed. It's very frustrating as I work hard on my pieces. Even if you hate them, I'll have you know that I am a perfectionist and always make sure that I achieve the particular style and emotion that I want to portray. So please, respect that and tell me what you think. Thanks!