Spoilt
by
Phoenix Fyre
Dsclmr: I do not own Legolas, Celeborn or anyone or thing from Lord
of the Rings.
Notes: This is just a short humor fic that I wrote when I was bored. Read if you need some light entertainment or cheering up.
Celeborn rested his head in his hands despairingly. "Legolas, I beg of you, please just get up."
A stubborn voice replied from under the bed covers, "No."
"Please!"
"No."
Celeborn sighed. "Nobody's going to notice your hair. Nobody else has combed their hair either."
"Not getting up. Not until I have a comb," Legolas said, in the same stubborn, spoilt tone.
"Look!" Celeborn gestured to his own hair. "I have not combed my hair! And I do not look far from normal, do I?"
The only sound Legolas made in reply was a small "hmph", as if to indicate he did not agree.
"I will drag you out of bed if I have to," Celeborn warned.
"You most certainly will not!" Legolas retorted, his voice muffled from under the covers. "You are just being selfish. I have an image to uphold."
"I will find you a comb then."
"Do as you wish."
"Now," Celeborn said. "Will you get up?"
"No."
Celeborn stopped himself from wringing Legolas's neck there and then. "Why not?!" he asked, clenching his fists.
"Don't have any garments."
Celeborn's mouth dropped open. There were clothes scattered all over the room, all belonging to Legolas. "Yes, you do! What do you call these garments?" he held up some of the clothes as Legolas peeped out from under the covers.
"That is the wrong colour," Legolas told him haughtily.
Celeborn was nonplussed. "It is grey," he said. "Why won't you wear grey?"
Legolas now sat up. "Are you sick? Me? Wear grey? No. I only wear green and brown."
"I am losing my patience," Celeborn warned. When Legolas didn't
answer, he stamped out of the room, slamming the door behind him, to find
a heavy axe, some red paint and a very nasty looking pair of nutcrackers.