Part the Seventh: Another Big Important Choice

The Fellowship continued their quest towards Mordor. After trying to go over Caradhras, and being foiled by Saruman's badly-aimed lightning bolts, they were setting up camp.

"So tomorrow we will head for the Mines of Moria," Gimli announced, looking smug.

"Are you sure we will be welcome there?" Aragorn asked, cautious as always.

"Of course! That's what family is for!" Gimli looked around, beaming. He was happier than everyone else put together. "Why so glum?"

There were mumbled answers.

"Moria is a dangerous place."

"I dislike caves."

"I have heard that…"

"I'm hungry!" The last came from Pippin, of course.

They ate. Afterwards, Legolas went to the nearby river, and washed his hair. Must look good in front of the dwarves, he thought. I'll have to rebraid it tomorrow morning.

* * * * * * *

Aragorn was taking an early bath in the soft pre-dawn light when he witnessed a spectre, shining with radiance, approaching him. The spectre's long hair hung over its shoulder, and the spectre appeared to be braiding it. A delicate elven ear could be seen through the fine curtain of hair. Aragorn smiled.

"Arwen?" he questioned. "What are you doing here, my love?"

The glow vanished. The spectre became an ordinary elf, clad in white, with a seriously annoyed expression on its countenance.

"Are you defective in some way, Aragorn son of Arathorn, that you mistake a blond male for a brown-haired female?" Legolas pouted. "I really don't appreciate that."

Caught, Aragorn tried to backtrack. "I mean… I thought… you're both elves!"

"I don't call you Boromir, do I? You're both dumb mortals."

"Who are you calling a dumb mortal?!" Aragorn sat up in the river. "That was a genuine mistake!"

"Why? Am I that effeminate?" Legolas asked sarcastically.

"Yes!" Then, off the elf's look, "That was a joke, naturally."

"Naturally," Legolas repeated, fingering the hilt of his knife.

"It's just because you've got your hair down! And you have long hair! Like Arwen! And it's too dark to tell the colour from that distance! And you've got it in the same style as hers! And you're wearing white, you never wear white, Arwen wears white! You both look like that when you plait your hair!" Aragorn babbled on, watching Legolas draw the knife and balance the blade between his fingers. He realised what a vulnerable situation he was in.

"Look, I'm really really sorry!" he continued, frantic. "I'll make it up to you!"

Legolas grinned evilly. "Will you now…"

"Yes! Yes!"

With a shrug, Legolas sheathed the knife and sat by the edge of the river. "You do realise, Aragorn, I wouldn't really have done anything."

"Really? You looked like you meant to…"

"Perhaps take an inch off the bottom of your…"

"No!" wailed Aragorn, curling up.

"…hair," Legolas finished. "It's much easier to look after when it's short." Then, with a smirk, "Honestly, where has your mind been? Down with Boromir's in the gutter?"

"Hmph."

Legolas took pity on the aggrieved Ranger, and changed the subject. "Look, I have an important choice to make, and I need your help."

"Why not ask Pippin? That little bottomless pit seems to like you."

"The hobbit? All his taste is in his mouth," came the unfair retort.

"I heard that!" Pippin cried shrilly.

"Where did you come from?" Aragorn demanded.

"I wanted a bath," Pippin protested. "The river is a public place, isn't it? Good morning, Mister Elf."

Said elf sighed heavily. "Since you're here, little one, you can help me."

"With what?"

"An important choice," Aragorn quoted.

"Yes?"

Legolas turned so the two others could see his profile. "Should I braid my hair behind my ear, or in front of it?"

Pippin's jaw dropped. "That's the big important choice?"

"Or I could take the whole thing to the back and plait it all together…"

Aragorn was laughing. "Not effeminate, you say…"

"Shut up! I have to look my best! I'm a representative of the elves! The dwarves will take me to be a model of all the elves!"

"Yes, and they'll assume all the elves are prissy, vain, blonde, vain, sissified, vain, immortal, vain creatures!" Aragorn chuckled.

"With pointy ears," Pippin added.

Legolas threw the bottle at Pippin, and wrestled Aragorn into the stream.

"Ooh! The blue bottle!" Pippin squealed. He opened the top and started to pour some of the shampoo out. "Smells nice…"

Legolas diverted his attention from drowning Aragorn to the hobbit who was wasting his precious supply of hair care products. "Leave that! It's mine!"

"You threw it to me," Pippin replied, dancing away.

"I threw it AT you! Not TO you! There's a difference!" Legolas roared, and set after him, blond hair whirling in its unplaited glory behind him. He snagged Pippin's wrist. "Give it back!"

From behind him came the familiar sound of a cranky old wizard clearing his throat in a very pointed manner. The elf and the hobbit both turned. The Man, in the stream, sat up and regarded the intruder.

"What are you doing, Legolas?" Gandalf said. His staff was glowing, his mustache was bristling, and his eyebrows were frowning in such a way that made it clear he was incredibly displeased.

"Er… nothing," Legolas stammered, releasing Pippin.

Gandalf fixed his gaze on Pippin. "And you, Fool of a Took?"

"Mucking about," Pippin said to Gandalf's feet.

"Fine way to behave," Gandalf admonished them. "You two are representatives of your species. What will the dwarves think, when they meet us in Moria!"

"Sorry," they chorused.

"You will be," Gandalf grumbled, turning on his heel. "Your racket woke me out of a sound sleep. We are leaving, gentlemen, pack your belongings."

He retreated towards the camp. Aragorn, Legolas and Pippin could hear him rousing the others.

"Shall we?"

As Pippin stomped back towards the campsite, Aragorn hoisted himself out of the river.

"Legolas," he said, in Elvish. "Just do your hair the same as you've been doing it. It looks fine."

"Only 'fine'?" Legolas queried, looking over his shoulder.

"Beautiful," Aragorn hastily amended. "Stunning. Dazzling. Exquisite, magnificent, gorgeous. Like your ethereal self."

Legolas paused in his walking and put on a high voice. "If you say so, Aragorn my love." He batted his eyes at the startled Ranger, then fled, laughing heartily, as Aragorn lunged at his heels.

-fin part seven-

Thanks to all the reviewers (Eileen, Sprite, Aymara, Blood thirsty, ~*~Elven Princess Lacey~*~, Mirëwen, and QueenSusantheGentle), and since you've read this, kindly let me know what you think. Flames very much welcome - they will be used to roast the chicken for my upcoming party.