Much Ado About Matching
By Windy McDohl
Disclaimer: Oh, you know… They were never mine. *Sigh* they belong to the Great Sir Mr. J.R.R. Tolkien. The fiction is mine!
Warning: Slash… And Middle-Earth's own soap opera. Need I say more?
Note: KUMBAYAAAAAH! KUMBAYAAAAAAAH!!
_______________________
Part Five - Smoke Gets In Your Eyes
Elrond continued to track after the two youngsters, cursing inwardly for wearing so flimsy a material. He did not like to stay to watch Thranduil play, as seeing in him in merely shorts and shirt acted as a natural repellent to the elf-lord.
Stepping in the general direction of the wood clearing, he made sure that his steps were silent. He had no intention of lecturing the youngsters, let alone reprimanding them. A babble of voices floated to his elvish ears, and Elrond strained to hear the conversation. He hid behind a bush, trying to control his breathing.
"Elladan?"
"Go away," his tone sounded final. Elendir flinched, hurt. However, he was, like a good many mortal youths, persistent and would not take no for an answer. He continued to step forward, and put a hand on Elladan's shoulder.
"Not until I apologize," he said firmly; "and until you accept it willingly."
"Apology accepted. Now go away."
"Come now, Elladan!" Elendir looked aggrieved. "What would you have me do to look my way again? I would throw myself into the river, if you wanted me to. I would buy front row tickets to a Britney Spears concert even if it would kill me… only if you mentioned of it! I would throw myself in front of a car to get you Michael Jackson's signature! I would defeat Windy McDohl in Counter Strike using a knife if you bade me to! I would cosplay as Misao of Rurouni Kenshin if you wanted me to… no matter how stupid I would look! I would -"
Elrond could not help stifling a laugh as he heard that. It was very direct, whether or not Elendir knew it. And besides, it was impossible to defeat ANYONE in Counter Strike using a mere knife, let alone Windy McDohl. And to by front tickets to a Britney Spears concert was to buy a one-way ticket to poverty. To cosplay as Misao was pure stupidity.
Elladan smiled shyly up at Elendir. "How nice," he said. "Though, I wouldn't think I could defeat Windy McDohl too easily. He's very egoistic."
"I would," Elendir was confident. "Even if he would delete me off his fanfiction, I wouldn't mind… Just to make you happy."
"I thought you didn't like me," Elladan confessed. "I wanted you to get jealous, that's why I answered that Bergeron. But now I know, I was stupid. I'm so sorry, Elendir. But I'm glad of how things turned out."
Elendir laughed. "Now all I worry about is being deleted. I wonder if Windy isn't as evil as he claims to be."
To that Elladan smiled. "It's his birthday, and he's in a wonderful mood. Besides, he had had a nasty cut on his palm and he's too lazy to rewrite the fanfiction. And he's supposed to be mature at the age of 17, not given to anymore violent tempers…"
"He just gets into violent tempers when his brothers mess up the kitchen," Elendir agreed. "Or when they break his flowerpots. Or they gulp down his pie without his knowledge. Or when they sit on the table for dinner without washing their hands beforehand. Or when they feed Zell with their vegetables… Sometimes he kicks the oven when it malfunctions."
"He thinks it's tiresome to bake and have everything gone before he tastes it," Elladan said. "But let's say no more of it, shall we? We must return. It is getting late, and we shall be missed."
Elrond smiled and silently turned to leave. The match would soon be over, and he was sure that he would be needed to heal some of the players.
_________________________
"How do you feel?"
"Victorious," Legolas looked up at Elrohir, who had walked in limping. He took a seat beside the wood-elf, and they exchanged grins. Legolas had received a black eye and a few bruises on his arms and legs, but nonetheless he was satisfied that they had won. They now sat awaiting the main healer to tend to their wounds. Elrond usually tended to his sons' wounds with is own hands.
"Great," Elrohir sighed, sitting back. "We'll get our father to look at our injuries. I seriously thought that I was going to die, seeing your father in shorts…"
"Me too," Legolas smiled. "I'm sorry about the striker. He kicked you, didn't he?"
"So he did. Our good friend the dwarf tackled him down," Elrohir rolled his eyes expressively. "Did you hear him roar? The striker looked as if he were about to faint."
"He did," Legolas laughed. "It's a pity Lord Elrond was not here to witness the game. I wish he did… I wanted to tell him that I did my best."
"Hmm… Elrohir smiled slyly. "You would tell him more than that, I reckon."
Legolas blushed, shifting his gaze to the floor. But Elrohir was set on finishing what they had started, to perfection. He did not want King Thranduil as his father!
"Our father is known for his fairness," Elrohir pressed on, gazing at Legolas' countenance intently. "Have you not read that in books? Have you not heard of it in songs?"
"I have," Legolas admitted shyly. He had been drawn to Elrond, even before he came to Imladris. He had heard of many songs sung, of how the Lady Undomiel who took after her father, was the mirror of Rivendell. Surely one who took after the parent would proof her father fair!
"What think you of him? Aren't you… attracted to him in any way?"
"Well, as a matter of fact, I am," Legolas replied softly. "I really do like him, but…"
"But what?"
"He desires my father so," the elf looked torn. Elrohir shook his head.
"That letter was not written for your father," Elrohir said. Legolas looked up in surprise. "It was written to you, saying of his love for you… our father likes you, Legolas! Surely you can see that!"
"I…"
"Well, our father is to come tend to our wounds. You would have to make him face you, and tell him the truth, for he awaits it," Elrohir grinned. "Take off your shirt, Legolas, and your leggings too! Hurry!" Legolas did just that, even as Elrond entered. Elrohir made it to the door, and embraced his father warmly. He winked at Legolas, and turned back to Elrond.
"Dear father, I am of no need of your service," Elrohir smiled. "Please tend to Legolas. He needs it more than I do."
"Very well, then," Elrond replied, kindly patting Elrohir on his back. Elrohir grinned and left.
"There now, child," Elrond came up to Legolas. As he did, his breath caught in his throat. He beheld the shapely elven beauty, curled up in the snow-white coverlets…
Legolas blushed as he met with Elrond's eyes. The elf-lord coughed slightly, and went to collect the herbs used for healing, trying to avert his gaze from Legolas. However, remembering Elrohir's advice, Legolas pulled Elrond down to meet him.
"I… I have fallen for you, my Lord… You wanted to hear that, didn't you?"
Elrond turned an interesting shade of colors as he stared at Legolas. Why, numerous things seemed to be happening all at once! He gazed at Legolas, certain warmth washing through his veins.
"Well… Yes," Elrond spoke gently, his breath like a delicate feather upon Legolas' cheek. "And thank you kindly."
Legolas replied with a light kiss on the elf-lord's forehead. He buried his head in Elrond's hair, breathing in the dewy scent that was caught in it. They blew the candlelight out, and the room was engulfed in darkness.
Beyond the window, Glorfindel stood grinning alongside Elrohir. They would tell the news to Elladan, once he was… done with Elendir.
________________________
To Be Continued…
________________________
By Windy McDohl
Disclaimer: Oh, you know… They were never mine. *Sigh* they belong to the Great Sir Mr. J.R.R. Tolkien. The fiction is mine!
Warning: Slash… And Middle-Earth's own soap opera. Need I say more?
Note: KUMBAYAAAAAH! KUMBAYAAAAAAAH!!
_______________________
Part Five - Smoke Gets In Your Eyes
Elrond continued to track after the two youngsters, cursing inwardly for wearing so flimsy a material. He did not like to stay to watch Thranduil play, as seeing in him in merely shorts and shirt acted as a natural repellent to the elf-lord.
Stepping in the general direction of the wood clearing, he made sure that his steps were silent. He had no intention of lecturing the youngsters, let alone reprimanding them. A babble of voices floated to his elvish ears, and Elrond strained to hear the conversation. He hid behind a bush, trying to control his breathing.
"Elladan?"
"Go away," his tone sounded final. Elendir flinched, hurt. However, he was, like a good many mortal youths, persistent and would not take no for an answer. He continued to step forward, and put a hand on Elladan's shoulder.
"Not until I apologize," he said firmly; "and until you accept it willingly."
"Apology accepted. Now go away."
"Come now, Elladan!" Elendir looked aggrieved. "What would you have me do to look my way again? I would throw myself into the river, if you wanted me to. I would buy front row tickets to a Britney Spears concert even if it would kill me… only if you mentioned of it! I would throw myself in front of a car to get you Michael Jackson's signature! I would defeat Windy McDohl in Counter Strike using a knife if you bade me to! I would cosplay as Misao of Rurouni Kenshin if you wanted me to… no matter how stupid I would look! I would -"
Elrond could not help stifling a laugh as he heard that. It was very direct, whether or not Elendir knew it. And besides, it was impossible to defeat ANYONE in Counter Strike using a mere knife, let alone Windy McDohl. And to by front tickets to a Britney Spears concert was to buy a one-way ticket to poverty. To cosplay as Misao was pure stupidity.
Elladan smiled shyly up at Elendir. "How nice," he said. "Though, I wouldn't think I could defeat Windy McDohl too easily. He's very egoistic."
"I would," Elendir was confident. "Even if he would delete me off his fanfiction, I wouldn't mind… Just to make you happy."
"I thought you didn't like me," Elladan confessed. "I wanted you to get jealous, that's why I answered that Bergeron. But now I know, I was stupid. I'm so sorry, Elendir. But I'm glad of how things turned out."
Elendir laughed. "Now all I worry about is being deleted. I wonder if Windy isn't as evil as he claims to be."
To that Elladan smiled. "It's his birthday, and he's in a wonderful mood. Besides, he had had a nasty cut on his palm and he's too lazy to rewrite the fanfiction. And he's supposed to be mature at the age of 17, not given to anymore violent tempers…"
"He just gets into violent tempers when his brothers mess up the kitchen," Elendir agreed. "Or when they break his flowerpots. Or they gulp down his pie without his knowledge. Or when they sit on the table for dinner without washing their hands beforehand. Or when they feed Zell with their vegetables… Sometimes he kicks the oven when it malfunctions."
"He thinks it's tiresome to bake and have everything gone before he tastes it," Elladan said. "But let's say no more of it, shall we? We must return. It is getting late, and we shall be missed."
Elrond smiled and silently turned to leave. The match would soon be over, and he was sure that he would be needed to heal some of the players.
_________________________
"How do you feel?"
"Victorious," Legolas looked up at Elrohir, who had walked in limping. He took a seat beside the wood-elf, and they exchanged grins. Legolas had received a black eye and a few bruises on his arms and legs, but nonetheless he was satisfied that they had won. They now sat awaiting the main healer to tend to their wounds. Elrond usually tended to his sons' wounds with is own hands.
"Great," Elrohir sighed, sitting back. "We'll get our father to look at our injuries. I seriously thought that I was going to die, seeing your father in shorts…"
"Me too," Legolas smiled. "I'm sorry about the striker. He kicked you, didn't he?"
"So he did. Our good friend the dwarf tackled him down," Elrohir rolled his eyes expressively. "Did you hear him roar? The striker looked as if he were about to faint."
"He did," Legolas laughed. "It's a pity Lord Elrond was not here to witness the game. I wish he did… I wanted to tell him that I did my best."
"Hmm… Elrohir smiled slyly. "You would tell him more than that, I reckon."
Legolas blushed, shifting his gaze to the floor. But Elrohir was set on finishing what they had started, to perfection. He did not want King Thranduil as his father!
"Our father is known for his fairness," Elrohir pressed on, gazing at Legolas' countenance intently. "Have you not read that in books? Have you not heard of it in songs?"
"I have," Legolas admitted shyly. He had been drawn to Elrond, even before he came to Imladris. He had heard of many songs sung, of how the Lady Undomiel who took after her father, was the mirror of Rivendell. Surely one who took after the parent would proof her father fair!
"What think you of him? Aren't you… attracted to him in any way?"
"Well, as a matter of fact, I am," Legolas replied softly. "I really do like him, but…"
"But what?"
"He desires my father so," the elf looked torn. Elrohir shook his head.
"That letter was not written for your father," Elrohir said. Legolas looked up in surprise. "It was written to you, saying of his love for you… our father likes you, Legolas! Surely you can see that!"
"I…"
"Well, our father is to come tend to our wounds. You would have to make him face you, and tell him the truth, for he awaits it," Elrohir grinned. "Take off your shirt, Legolas, and your leggings too! Hurry!" Legolas did just that, even as Elrond entered. Elrohir made it to the door, and embraced his father warmly. He winked at Legolas, and turned back to Elrond.
"Dear father, I am of no need of your service," Elrohir smiled. "Please tend to Legolas. He needs it more than I do."
"Very well, then," Elrond replied, kindly patting Elrohir on his back. Elrohir grinned and left.
"There now, child," Elrond came up to Legolas. As he did, his breath caught in his throat. He beheld the shapely elven beauty, curled up in the snow-white coverlets…
Legolas blushed as he met with Elrond's eyes. The elf-lord coughed slightly, and went to collect the herbs used for healing, trying to avert his gaze from Legolas. However, remembering Elrohir's advice, Legolas pulled Elrond down to meet him.
"I… I have fallen for you, my Lord… You wanted to hear that, didn't you?"
Elrond turned an interesting shade of colors as he stared at Legolas. Why, numerous things seemed to be happening all at once! He gazed at Legolas, certain warmth washing through his veins.
"Well… Yes," Elrond spoke gently, his breath like a delicate feather upon Legolas' cheek. "And thank you kindly."
Legolas replied with a light kiss on the elf-lord's forehead. He buried his head in Elrond's hair, breathing in the dewy scent that was caught in it. They blew the candlelight out, and the room was engulfed in darkness.
Beyond the window, Glorfindel stood grinning alongside Elrohir. They would tell the news to Elladan, once he was… done with Elendir.
________________________
To Be Continued…
________________________