Authoress' Note:
You dudes are totally awesome! I was overwhelmed by the many wonderful reviews the first part got. Thank you, thank you, thank you! You are so encouraging. Each one of you is so much fun to hear from! And I love profile pictures, don't you? They can give you such personality, you know? :D Thanks again, and here's the first chapter of (drum roll and music notes of destiny) Part Two!
P. S. How this title came about: I was listening to film soundtracks (weird? yes; but I love that kind of music. Don't ask why, I don't know!) and one of the songs was called 'Bastian's Happy Flight' (I think it's from The NeverEnding Story, but I don't know. I haven't seen that movie). I liked the title and the song, so I decided to STEAL it. *evil grin* If you want to, you can listen to the music on grooveshark.
Part two: Lindir's Happy Flight
Chapter 1.
Lindir was weary.
He had a rather stressful existence, when you think about it. His job consisted of being a minstrel (this can be extremely stressful if Elladan and Elrohir are around to make fun of your mistakes) and doing whatever random things Elrond wanted him to do at the moment.
'It's really not fair,' he often thought; 'Erestor is supposed to do all Lord Elrond's dirty work.' But Lindir did his duty as a good elf should, and expected nothing more than his wages.
So he was surprised when Elrond said to him one day, 'Lindir, you look weary.'
Not only was he surprised; he was also a little worried. Lindir knew more than most of Elrond's obsession with healing people, and he didn't particularly enjoy it when he was the object on which Elrond practiced his talent.
'Lindir, I think you need a vacation,' continued Elrond. Now Lindir was really worried. Did Lord Elrond find him unnecessary? Was he unwanted, unneeded?
'I'm going to send you to Minas Tirith,' said Elrond. 'King Elessar I am sure will be pleased to welcome you, and it's so peaceful there, not at all like Rivendell.'
'Milord,' said Lindir, his elven pallor disappearing and being replaced by a slight flush, 'I am perfectly rested. I do not need a vacation, I assure you.'
'Come now, I insist!' insisted Elrond. 'If you do not get a rest soon you'll drop.'
'Are you sure Gondor is a restful place?' asked Lindir doubtfully.
'Oh, yes,' said Elrond. 'They have a golf course. I even hear they have an inner-city swimming pool. And Rohan's not far away; you could go there once in a while and watch their polo matches. I hear Gamling is an epic player.'
'I don't like horses,' said Lindir, still doubtful.
'Well, don't tell Eomer that. Anyhow, you will go, won't you?'
'You sound as if you want me to go away,' said Lindir, rather offended.
Elrond shifted uncomfortably. 'Well,' he said slowly, 'as a matter of fact, yes I do. You see,' he hastened to explain, 'Legolas is coming for a visit.'
'Oh,' said Lindir. Now he understood.
Ever since the fateful day when Lindir began his short-lived advertising career he had not been able to stand the sight of Legolas. Surprisingly it had not always been this way. Lindir used to be best friends with Legolas; he spent hours thinking up ways to annoy him, and spent more hours carrying them out, causing him and Legolas to be together very frequently. He was attracted to Legolas the same way an angry bull is attracted to a flapping red cloth. They went together like chili and hot sauce. But since that fateful day, as I have said, Lindir couldn't even enjoy harassing Legolas anymore. When Legolas was around he began to do strange things, like hide under couches or climb up chimneys. Doing these things made him look insane.
Elrond didn't really care if Lindir looked insane or not, since Lindir in his opinion was*** insane; but when Legolas took reports back to King Thranduil about Lord Elrond's mad minstrel he began to grow concerned.
'You see the necessity of such an action,' said Elrond.
'I do,' agreed Lindir. 'I will go to Gondor. But,' he added as an afterthought, 'don't let Elladan in my room. Last time I left he replaced all my harp strings with spaghetti noodles.'
'Deal,' said Elrond promptly. Hard as it was to keep Elladan out of Lindir's room, it was harder to make Lindir act natural around Legolas.
'Now you promise you'll go to Minas Tirith?' he asked again eagerly.
Lindir raised his eyebrows suspiciously. 'Yes. I already said I would.'
'All right, then,' said Elrond, smiling in relief. 'No backsies.'
'What trickery is this?' asked Lindir, growing more and more suspicious.
'Gildor is going with you,' said Elrond, and began to walk away very hurriedly. 'No backsies, remember?'
Lindir's blood began to boil. But what could he do against his employer? He growled something not very elf-like and went to pack his bags.
No elf ever traveled light. If someone tries to make you believe one did, he is plotting some strange plot against you. Elves can't travel light. There are a multitude of things that are (or seem) absolutely essential to them. The main things are hair products and accessories.
There are certain things Lindir always takes with him everywhere. One of them is his mandolin. Another is his large plush shark. He also takes a box of lembas whenever going some place. So Lindir packed even heavier than most elves.
But much as Lindir packed, it was nothing to what Gildor was bringing. I cannot name every useless item the blonde took with him, but as an example, his stuffed warg took up a whole saddlebag.
Lindir was quite uncomfortable on the journey. For one thing, he disliked horses, and had to bear the company of three to carry him, Gildor, and their paraphernalia. For another thing, he disliked Gildor, and had to bear his company for the whole journey. He began to wonder within five minutes if he had been wise to head towards Minas Tirith.
It took a very long time to get there. When at last he saw the peak of rock jutting out of the city he was almost ecstatic. He had been to Minas Tirith before, a long time ago, but he didn't remember much about it.
'Perhaps I shall enjoy the golf,' he thought.
