Hello! Hello!

I'm back with a newwww chapter!

I'm really happy you seem to be enjoying the read! It makes my day to have such positive comments and it makes me want to write more! I really hope you will enjoy these chapters!

Yes! I will have much more with Legolas and Christine. I have drafts already but I keep of re-reading them, fixing them up. And naturally, there will be romance, for I love it. But, it will take time to unfold...but I guess it makes it more interesting...hehhahahaha! Hope I'm not torturing you guys! :P

Regarding Vilesack; this orc will appear much more in the story for he does have a special part in it, and why he seems to need light will be explained as the story progresses.

There will be LOADS of romance, it just takes a lill time to unfold, but we are getting there. ;) In a couple of scenes, I can assure you, Harlette and Thranduil will have a romantic moment! ;)

The Village Idiot

'Harlette! Harlette! Wake up! It's time to rise and shine on this mighty fine day!'

Harlette parted one lazy lid, just to be confronted with the blurred lines of a furry white face. It was Bernard. 'Wake up Harlette, Thranduil is waiting outside!'

'The Goblin King can wait longer then- he's immortal and so shouldn't care for strict time management,' Harlette dismissed, budging so that she now lay on her side, her arms above her head, her eyes shut.

'Harlette, feckin' wake up now! We must carry on! It's close on six o'clock,' Goldie urged, flapping her wings on the girl's face.

Harlette opened a tired, yet suspicious eye, 'six o'clock in the morning or the afternoon?'

'In the morning of course, ye dunderhead! Oh come along, girl, that hawt elf is standing there, looking as dazzling as a limousine…oh, I really wouldn't mind making a pass at him. He must be quite a sumptuous ride!'

'A fatal one you mean: he puts half of his weight on you and you'll experience death by crushing,' Harlette drawled and stretched at leisure; it was not easy to rouse from a night of unbroken sleep.

'Ah you are right…but I cannot stop myself from appreciating the fine quality; even if it would be the death of me if ever I were to test it,' answered Goldie, her humor unspoiled.

.*.*.*

At last the small company left their refuge behind, their frames sinking anew within towering vegetation. The temperature was mild, the sun was high in the pink-blue sky, and the clouds were scarce. Once pertaining to a rose's head, scarlet petals bejeweled with dewdrops strayed on their paths.

They journeyed for a good two hours; Thranduil walked in front, and next came Bernard, followed by Harlette and Goldie who plodded along.

At a certain moment in the trip, the elf and the two animals conversed together, whereas Harlette chose to stay silent, keeping to her own company.

Harlette gazed at Thranduil's back, recollecting last night's events; his hands had climbed to her face, and his fingers had been on her lips. 'If only...' he had said, but never completed that sentence, much to her annoyance. Sudden anger cornered her emotions, and she watched through jealous eyes Bernard and Goldie chattering merrily with the elf.

The wind suddenly blew hard and leaves detached themselves from trees to hit Harlette's face. 'Why is it Thranduil seems to respect both cat and hen more than he does me?' a bitter Harlette muttered under her breath. Her features screwed up with anger as it became abruptly harder and harder for her to walk; with each step, her feet dug themselves further and further in the mud, till it reached her knees. 'Wait for me!' she cried, but just as she did so, a large party of crows began to caw all at the same time. When she yelled again, an enormous hippopotamus in the distance let out a loud fart which echoed throughout the gigantic forest.

Harlette was stuck, knee deep in mud, unable to move, her companions drifting into the distance, unaware of the ordeal she was going through. What was happening? Why was she the only one facing such hardship?

She extracted her feet from her shoes and with difficulty began to walk on the dry grass beside her. At last, she discerned the outline of Thranduil's body as he raised his arms upwards in a motion of impatience- he had finally noticed she had fallen behind. No doubt he was thinking how childish and accident prone she was. That upset her. As she walked, barefoot, carrying her filthy shoes in one hand, she began to wonder why he could not see her as a cheerful human being filled with life and bearer of a great personality? No. Why could he not see her as an object of sexual desire? That gobshite of an elf.

As Harlette approached them, Bernard and Goldie looked away and tried hard not to burst out laughing at her pitiful state; covered in mud, disheveled hair and mucky face.

'What is it Harlette?' Thranduil asked not withholding the smile stretching on his face as he beheld her dirtied self.

Anger flared in her chest. She did not know why it did, but it did.

'You are a swine, Thranduil!' Harlette shot promptly.

Goldie tripped, and Bernard tripped over her, and both tumbled over and rolled on the ground.

Thranduil smirked, 'and judging by your muddied state, you must be a sow. I therefore assume you greatly enjoy my company. Now that the matter is settled, let us carry on with our journey.'

Harlette puffed at him.

'Why are you so bitter, Harlette?' Thranduil asked out of mere curiosity.

'"Why are you so bitter, Harlette"?' she parroted condescendingly, in a tone meaner than she had intended.

Thranduil's brow rose in humorous yet silent questioning.

She stomped over to him, and slapping her hands on her waist she puffed her chest, her eyes looking up at his. 'You speak in such posh, Elven prose!' Harlette snapped disparagingly. 'You think your vocabulary is so outstanding, eh?'

'Harlette, he's speaking in English. And he's not being posh or anything,' Goldie dared object whisperingly.

'English? English, my arse! Why am I the only one being attacked by everything here?' she cried savagely. The wind picked up again, and this time, it was so powerful upon herself that she struggled to remain standing. Strangely enough, Bernard, Goldie and Thranduil were unaffected by the wind's mood swings.

'Harlette. Calm yourself!' Bernard rebuked. 'What is wrong with you?'

Goldie placed a wing on the cat's shoulder, yet she spoke loudly for all to hear. 'The spell lurkin' round here is affecting her. That's why she's angry. We are to expect some tantrums from time to time. Nature is against her, pushing her temper to the limit; nature wants her anger. Remember, I told you about men and women not liking each other here.'

'Why is it not affecting Thranduil?' Harlette screeched through gritted teeth, running her palms over her dress, attempting to gather bits of composure she had lost.

'I suppose Elves are not affected by this magic because they are one with nature; nature does not see them as a threat, I think,' Goldie explained, her eyes scanning Thranduil's tranquil features.

'Oh! Oh! Now there's a surprise!' Harlette drawled with beastly anger. 'Again with these elves! Elves are so perfect!'

A spiral of dust pushed by a sudden breeze whirled round her, stinging her eyes. Her arms flailing, Harlette stepped out from the cyclone, coughing as she did.

'The competition for perfection is not very difficult, when you are the rival,' Thranduil said, grinning madly as she moaned and growled as her bare feet encountered sharp little rocks.

Harlette glowered at him and spoke: 'I am very─'

'Annoying,' Thranduil finished for her.

Harlette glowered but carried on nonetheless. 'I need─'

'Punishment,' Thranduil interjected casually.

Harlette continued. 'I'm tired of your─'

'Eternal patience,' Thranduil interrupted again.

Bernard and Goldie turned away from the discussion when their attention was drawn elsewhere; further behind them a shadow began to stretch.

Bernard and Goldie's eyes widened.

'At least I'm not an arrogant elf with an unpronounceable name who shows no understanding for the feelings of others!' Harlette affirmed, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes fixed on the elf she was trying to outwit.

Thranduil's eyes moved upwards, looking way up; way, way above her frame.

'Are you listening to what I'm saying?' Harlette asked the elf's whose attention she had lost. Thranduil ignored her, his utter focus riveted upwards.

Harlette whirled around, and her mouth dropped before what stood up before her. 'Goodness me, I finally flipped, I'm certain of it!'

Silence.

Standing tall and proud, was the tallest woman Harlette had ever seen; measuring at least seven meters, she wore a pink dress and green wellington boots. Her blond hair framed her face in a wide, curly disaster. Slowly, she stooped down to have a closer look at Harlette and her companions, and as she did so, her large grey eyes crossed. When her nose exhaled, a gale slapped on the miniatures before her.

'Well, hello there,' Harlette greeted tentatively, pulling her auburn strands behind her ear and shivering under the ceaseless wind coming from the giant's nostrils.

The woman straightened and clapped her dirtied hands together in glee, and the noise emanating from each slap echoed in a rich, grave sound, and so did her voice as she cried: 'Fairies! Fairies at last!'

The creature brought a finger to her huge lips, as if to remind herself to be quiet. From her breast pocket she revealed a pink handkerchief which she laid down on the ground. Unfolding it, she unravelled what was inside: four, yellowed and enormous teeth.

'There, fairies, how much for all these?' she said with a lisp.

'I beg your pardon?' Harlette blurted out.

'I've got four teeth here; very high quality, they are! How much do you offer for them, how much?' the giant asked, lisping throughout.

Thranduil readied himself to speak, yet Harlette beat him to conversation. 'Wait a minute, don't be a cheat now: those don't look like children's teeth to me!' she accused, her disgusted eyes scanning the thick coat of yellowish and grayish dirt smeared upon each tooth.

'Those teeth are that of a giant's; that's why they're so big,' Bernard reasoned in a deadpan manner.

Thranduil would have spoken, but Harlette was first to do that: 'I know that, Bernatd! But they are dirty, rotten; they've been used and abused! No toddler would have such teeth I tell you!'

'I swear they're children's teeth!' the giant lady reassured, adding an innocent smile to her statement, a bloodied smile which revealed the fact that her first four front teeth were missing.

'She's trying to rip us off!'Harlette let out, pointing at the shameful giant.

'Yeah!' cried Goldie. 'My girl's right!' she said, coming closer to a proud Harlette. 'We're not going to make a deal with you, you dishonest fecker!'

Harlette placed her fists on her waist. 'I will not waste my time dealing with_'

'Harlette, you are not a tooth fairy!' Thranduil growled at last.

Silence.

At last, the giant that was stooping down before them shifted her weight on her knees and straightened her back in alarm. 'Not a tooth fairy?!'

Thranduil took a bold step closer to the giant, and strangely enough that one seemed afraid of the miniature elf. 'No, none of us are. Now, could you please get those rotten teeth out of our sights and tell us who you are exactly.'

'Burgette, the village entertainer,' the giant replied quickly.

'Wait, is that the politically correct term for village idiot?' Harlette enquired, and the elf sighed at her useless input.

'Umm. Yes, I should think so,' Burgette replied giggling, and her giggle made the earth quaver.

Thranduil addressed the enormous woman who smiled dumbly at him. 'We mean you no harm─'

'I'm sure she knows that,' Harlette interjected. 'Indeed, we're so small, how could ill intentions towards a feckin' giant possibly form in our minds?' Goldie supplemented.

Thranduil ignored them both and carrying on. 'We desire to speak to your king.'

'You are in Girly,' the giant said bitterly. 'It will have to be a queen.' She crouched further down, trying to be at eye level with the lilliputians, and she banged her fist on the earth and repeated: 'Queen! Queen! We have a queen! No stupid King! Manly idiot! She is the queen of...' her voice trailed off as she tried to recall the forgotten. 'Queen of...'

'Try, Far-Flunga, the land you live in,' Goldie advised.

'But it's to be expected I say that! I want to try something new!' The ground beneath their feet shook as the giant giggled again.

'Would you be so kind as to take us to your queen, then,' Thranduil asked, bitterness growing in his tone.

The giant was pensive for a moment prior to nodding jovially. Before they could react, her large hands came down upon them and soon they found themselves in her breast pocket, much to Thranduil's outrage and Harlette's entertainment.

The pockets were filled with beads, bits of lace, and even needles. Popping their heads out from the pocket, sunlight not only warmed their curious faces, but it also illumed the land, so vast and beautiful.

With pink stains on their yellow backs, large cows feasted on rich green grass. A woman, also of the giant race, stood not far from the herd of bovines, and she waved at Burgette; she was undoubtedly a farmer for her dirtied dungarees and straw hat, and due to the fact that she delved into the earth with her gloved hands, planting something of a nature unknown to Harlette.

Her large feet slapping on rich soil, Burgette walked a narrow path which ran swiftly downwards, under leafy trees with their stretching fingers ringed with gigantesque birds of all colors.

At last, they passed beneath a great arch of a rosy, glittering stone: the entrance of a very busy town where the sound of laughter, chatter and wheeled, sputtering wooden vehicles ran amok.

Of all colors pastel, doll-like houses were packed together, and from their lovely little windows filled with flowers, female heads (and only female) poked out to greet Burgette, the village entertainer.

Harlette's eyes enlarged and quick, quick she nudged Thranduil. She pointed at what owned such an interest from her; another house. Only this one was fantastic, for entirely made of chocolate. A river of melted chocolate snaking around it attracted passers-by who stooped down with large mugs, and diving those inside the sumptuous liquid, quickly brought them to their eager lips.

Then, there was another house, and this one was crowded. A long queue awaited before its arched entrance; women, of all ages. A placard on its door read 'Kissing Lessons For Successful Mating Sessions!' Harlette inquired about those lessons, and Burgette laughed, saying that in far-Flunga, despite women and men dwelling on separate territory, spring time was a time where they would gather, for procreation was needed. To ensure a successful mating season, flirting lessons were indispensable.

Pathways ran between the many houses, and all lead atop a hill where towered a pink castle, glittering almost nauseatingly under sunlight. Harlette raised a brow at that hyperbolically shiny sight, thinking herself somewhere in a giant Barbie-land; the reason behind the vehement glimmering of the pink fortress, was not because of precious stone, but because it was heavily sprinkled with actual, cheap glitter.

As they penetrated a luminous corridor, their ears were assaulted by the sound of girly giggles. As they travelled on, the giggles became clearer, seemingly emanating from behind a closed door guarded by two female giants with spear wielding hands.

Burgette stopped before the laughing door, and remained silent. Sporting gleaming silver helms and purple uniforms, the guards uttered naught. Burgette knocked, loudly.

'Come in!' a voice from inside the room welcomed in a sing-song.

Before accepting the invite, Burgette addressed the miniatures in her pocket: 'We are going to meet the queen. She is very nice, but very firm and sometimes mean, very mean.'

As soon as the door was opened and Burgette invited in, Harlette and her companions' jaws dropped down at the sight of the place.

The bright pink ceiling was supported by thick cerise pillars, and spotless mirrors of all sizes and shapes hang on the yellow walls as way of grotesque decoration. There were dogs in this room, poodles, and with pink bows on their curly hair, they remained silent, their well groomed rears on soft cushions scattered along a grand window viewing the town basking under daylight. There was a throne at the end of the room. However, it was not occupied at the moment, for the queen was on the floor playing twister with her sister; indeed, both females were identical in body and face, except that only one of them wore a crown.

Thranduil puffed shamefully at that vision of ridicule bereft of anything noble. 'By the Valar….'