Disclaimer-----I have no idea where this came from. I blame rabid
plotbunnies. It's not my fault, not my idea, and mostly not my property.
And I'm not making any money off this, either.
Elvish Aristocracy vs. Helpful Hobbits
Yes, Legolas needed more information about the mangy man sniffing around Arwen. So he did what any true blue, red-blooded, well-raised member of Elvish aristocracy would do. He got somebody else to do his dirty work for him.
In this particular instance, the hapless suck........er, that is, the helpful assistants, were two of those funny little midgets he'd been trying to avoid tripping over ever since he'd arrived. Apparently four of the buggers had come in with Scruffy, as Legolas had taken to calling Arwen's ........now let's be polite!....... suitor. But one of them was laid up with some dread disease, or fell wound, or menstrual cramps, or some midget thing Legolas just didn't want to think about. And the other was mostly just hanging around the sick one, making sad, yet obviously slashy, puppy- dog eyes, at the thought that the first midget might kick the bucket. On the upside, this left two perfectly functional midgets who had traveled with Scruffy, and therefore MUST have some dirt on him. Metaphorical dirt, not literal dirt! Honestly, what is wrong with you readers?
Thus, a day or two after spotting Scruffy and Arwen being all nooky-nooky (and in public, no less!), Legolas tracked down the functional midgets. Not that THAT was difficult. There's something of a shortage of midgets in Rivendell, especially when half the midget population is hanging out in one bedroom, either unconscious or wishing they were.
"Yeah, there's nothing going on there, really. And I even believe it, too. Can't you tell?" Legolas muttered to himself as he spied on the laid-up midgets, hoping the functional ones would put in an appearance. "If they got any more obvious, Arwen'd be having to make begemmed banners proclaiming their undying devotion to each other. Gah!"
It wasn't that Legolas had anything AGAINST "True Love" per se, it's just that he was entirely cynical about its actual existence in this reality. In his experience (and he'd had PLENTY of experience!), what most mortals called "love" was just sex wearing fancy dress. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but for Eru's sake, call a spider, a spider!
Anyway, since nobody really cares what Legolas thinks (and there is some debate as to whether he thinks at all), let's go back to the story, shall we? Where was I? Oh! Right! Legolas was about to suck......er, that is PERSUADE Merry and Pippin to help him get the dirt on Aragorn, aka Scruffy.
Sadly, the available midgets never did show up in the sickroom, so the Elven Prince had to look elsewhere. After hunting high and low (and turn that A-ha CD OFF!! The 80's are over, you know), our favorite Elf finally tracked them to the kitchen. Not that that was hard (wait, didn't I say this already?), as all he had to do was trail the crumbs of uneaten food (No, I KNOW I said this already).
Legolas paused at the door to the kitchens. After all, it wouldn't do for the Prince of Mirkwood to be seen skulking around Rivendell's kitchens. Unless, of course, he was conducting intrigue and sneakiness, which he was. So that was all right then.
The Prince sauntered up to the midgets and said grandly, "I need to talk to you!"
The midgets glanced at each other with unmistakable "what is this git smoking?" looks.
"Talk to us about what?" the taller of the two asked.
"I need to know about your companion," Legolas stated.
"Which one?" the smaller of the two wanted to know.
"Yeah, we came in with three, you know. Though I wouldn't recommend bothering Frodo. If Elrond doesn't have your head, Gandalf will. And if you're lucky enough to survive that, Sam'll do something really nasty," the first one said.
"Yeah, and I wouldn't pester Strider, either. He's got something going with that dark-haired hottie of a daughter of Elrond's. I get the distinct impression messing about with that romance would fall firmly on the Bad side of the Good-Bad scale," the other one added.
Legolas, who only very dimly heard the Voice of Reason, pushed right on with his proposal. "Yes, well, that what I wanted to talk to you about. I want you to find out if this Scruf.....er, that is, this man, is worthy of the Evenstar of our people," he said, doing his best to sound impressive.
The midgets exchanged another of their looks. "What's in it for us?" the fatter one asked.
That set Legolas back. He was used to having his every whim granted without question. That someone might want compensation for helping him was beyond his ken. "Er.....the honor of serving the Prince of Mirkwood!" he finally declared.
Both midgets just looked at him, arms crossed, oversized feet tapping in impatience.
"And my undying gratitude?" Legolas added tentatively.
"Yeah, fine, that's nice. That and an empty sack is worth the sack," the bigger one said. "I repeat, what's in it for us?"
Legolas sighed. "What do you want?" he finally asked.
"Extra food from the kitchens!" they both exclaimed immediately.
"Sure," Legolas began to agree. Then he remembered tales he'd heard of how much these things eat. He had to cover his.....reputation. "How MUCH extra food from the kitchens?" he asked.
"Seven meals!" the bigger one grinned.
"Seven? You're out of your mind. One snack," Legolas countered. And the bargaining began.
"Six meals."
"One meal and one snack."
"Five meals, two snacks."
"Nice try. One meal, two snacks. No more."
"Two full meals and one snack, or no info. We won't go lower."
Legolas rolled his eyes. "Fine. When can I expect your report?"
The smaller of the midgets nudged the larger and whispered in his ear. The bigger grinned. "There's just one thing more," he said.
"What?" the elf practically growled.
"We want Elf maidens. One each," the midget declared. The other one leered.
Legolas felt sick. Elf maidens, with these critters? Can we say "Ick"? Still, if it got him what he wanted....
"Do you have any particular Elf maidens in mind?" he asked. His options depended on the answer.
"No, not really, so long as they're hot," the spokesmidget shrugged.
"And willing!" the other one added.
"Right. Hot and willing," the first hobbit repeated.
Legolas sighed in relief. He knew a couple of scullery maids who owed him a favor or three. In fact, these girls were a bit on the bent side (this is why Legolas was willing to do favors for them when he was in Rivendell). They might even like these midgets.
"Very well. I'll see what I can do. What are your names, small ones? If you're going to work for me, I can't very well call you Midget One and Midget Two," Legolas asked sweetly, hoping they wouldn't pick up on the insult.
They didn't. They were too busy thinking of extra food and hot, willing elf chicks to notice, or care if they had noticed.
"I'm Merry, and he's Pippin," the spokesmidget said. "And we're hobbits, not midgets," he added. Apparently they HAD picked that up after all.
"Well, my good hobbits, thank you for your time, and your cooperation. You shall receive your first snack when I get my first dirty secret.......er.....that is, my first information," Legolas concluded, turning to leave.
"Not so fast, elfy-boy!" the spokesmidget, that is, hobbit, whatsisname, Merry, said. "You're not getting anything until we get our food. And at least one night with the girls."
Legolas sighed and rolled his eyes. There was simply no reasoning with these hobbits! Honestly, he really wished he had them back in Mirkwood, and could throw them into a cellar until they felt cooperative. But he wasn't, and couldn't, so he took what he could get.
"Very well. I will speak to the maidens and get back to you later today. You'd better have something for me, or I will change my mind and possibly become very vexed," he said, trying and failing to look intimidating.
The hobbits just giggled. "Oh, we'll have something for you, all right. That's a promise!" the spokeshobbit, Merry, said. Pippin giggled. Legolas ignored them and walked off.
Once the elf was out of earshot, Pippin turned to Merry and demanded "Are you cracked? Strider will rip you limb from limb and beat me with your dead body if he catches us spying on him. And don't even THINK about what he'll do if we get between him and Elrond's hottie of a daughter!"
Merry shook his head. "Pippin, Pippin, Pippin. Did you honestly think I'd stoop to spying on Strider?"
"Yes."
"Well, yeah, I would, but not for that poncy git of an elf. I've got a plan. Here's what we're gonna do," Merry said. He pulled Pippin in and whispered into his ear. As he whispered, Pippin began to grin, then beam, then laugh out loud.
"Oh, Merry, this will be great!" the younger hobbit giggled. Merry just smirked evilly. That elf had no idea what he'd just gotten himself into.
A/N----what are Merry and Pippin up to? Will Aragorn find out? Will he wash his hair? Will Legolas ever learn? I have no clue. That is the next author's problem.
Elvish Aristocracy vs. Helpful Hobbits
Yes, Legolas needed more information about the mangy man sniffing around Arwen. So he did what any true blue, red-blooded, well-raised member of Elvish aristocracy would do. He got somebody else to do his dirty work for him.
In this particular instance, the hapless suck........er, that is, the helpful assistants, were two of those funny little midgets he'd been trying to avoid tripping over ever since he'd arrived. Apparently four of the buggers had come in with Scruffy, as Legolas had taken to calling Arwen's ........now let's be polite!....... suitor. But one of them was laid up with some dread disease, or fell wound, or menstrual cramps, or some midget thing Legolas just didn't want to think about. And the other was mostly just hanging around the sick one, making sad, yet obviously slashy, puppy- dog eyes, at the thought that the first midget might kick the bucket. On the upside, this left two perfectly functional midgets who had traveled with Scruffy, and therefore MUST have some dirt on him. Metaphorical dirt, not literal dirt! Honestly, what is wrong with you readers?
Thus, a day or two after spotting Scruffy and Arwen being all nooky-nooky (and in public, no less!), Legolas tracked down the functional midgets. Not that THAT was difficult. There's something of a shortage of midgets in Rivendell, especially when half the midget population is hanging out in one bedroom, either unconscious or wishing they were.
"Yeah, there's nothing going on there, really. And I even believe it, too. Can't you tell?" Legolas muttered to himself as he spied on the laid-up midgets, hoping the functional ones would put in an appearance. "If they got any more obvious, Arwen'd be having to make begemmed banners proclaiming their undying devotion to each other. Gah!"
It wasn't that Legolas had anything AGAINST "True Love" per se, it's just that he was entirely cynical about its actual existence in this reality. In his experience (and he'd had PLENTY of experience!), what most mortals called "love" was just sex wearing fancy dress. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but for Eru's sake, call a spider, a spider!
Anyway, since nobody really cares what Legolas thinks (and there is some debate as to whether he thinks at all), let's go back to the story, shall we? Where was I? Oh! Right! Legolas was about to suck......er, that is PERSUADE Merry and Pippin to help him get the dirt on Aragorn, aka Scruffy.
Sadly, the available midgets never did show up in the sickroom, so the Elven Prince had to look elsewhere. After hunting high and low (and turn that A-ha CD OFF!! The 80's are over, you know), our favorite Elf finally tracked them to the kitchen. Not that that was hard (wait, didn't I say this already?), as all he had to do was trail the crumbs of uneaten food (No, I KNOW I said this already).
Legolas paused at the door to the kitchens. After all, it wouldn't do for the Prince of Mirkwood to be seen skulking around Rivendell's kitchens. Unless, of course, he was conducting intrigue and sneakiness, which he was. So that was all right then.
The Prince sauntered up to the midgets and said grandly, "I need to talk to you!"
The midgets glanced at each other with unmistakable "what is this git smoking?" looks.
"Talk to us about what?" the taller of the two asked.
"I need to know about your companion," Legolas stated.
"Which one?" the smaller of the two wanted to know.
"Yeah, we came in with three, you know. Though I wouldn't recommend bothering Frodo. If Elrond doesn't have your head, Gandalf will. And if you're lucky enough to survive that, Sam'll do something really nasty," the first one said.
"Yeah, and I wouldn't pester Strider, either. He's got something going with that dark-haired hottie of a daughter of Elrond's. I get the distinct impression messing about with that romance would fall firmly on the Bad side of the Good-Bad scale," the other one added.
Legolas, who only very dimly heard the Voice of Reason, pushed right on with his proposal. "Yes, well, that what I wanted to talk to you about. I want you to find out if this Scruf.....er, that is, this man, is worthy of the Evenstar of our people," he said, doing his best to sound impressive.
The midgets exchanged another of their looks. "What's in it for us?" the fatter one asked.
That set Legolas back. He was used to having his every whim granted without question. That someone might want compensation for helping him was beyond his ken. "Er.....the honor of serving the Prince of Mirkwood!" he finally declared.
Both midgets just looked at him, arms crossed, oversized feet tapping in impatience.
"And my undying gratitude?" Legolas added tentatively.
"Yeah, fine, that's nice. That and an empty sack is worth the sack," the bigger one said. "I repeat, what's in it for us?"
Legolas sighed. "What do you want?" he finally asked.
"Extra food from the kitchens!" they both exclaimed immediately.
"Sure," Legolas began to agree. Then he remembered tales he'd heard of how much these things eat. He had to cover his.....reputation. "How MUCH extra food from the kitchens?" he asked.
"Seven meals!" the bigger one grinned.
"Seven? You're out of your mind. One snack," Legolas countered. And the bargaining began.
"Six meals."
"One meal and one snack."
"Five meals, two snacks."
"Nice try. One meal, two snacks. No more."
"Two full meals and one snack, or no info. We won't go lower."
Legolas rolled his eyes. "Fine. When can I expect your report?"
The smaller of the midgets nudged the larger and whispered in his ear. The bigger grinned. "There's just one thing more," he said.
"What?" the elf practically growled.
"We want Elf maidens. One each," the midget declared. The other one leered.
Legolas felt sick. Elf maidens, with these critters? Can we say "Ick"? Still, if it got him what he wanted....
"Do you have any particular Elf maidens in mind?" he asked. His options depended on the answer.
"No, not really, so long as they're hot," the spokesmidget shrugged.
"And willing!" the other one added.
"Right. Hot and willing," the first hobbit repeated.
Legolas sighed in relief. He knew a couple of scullery maids who owed him a favor or three. In fact, these girls were a bit on the bent side (this is why Legolas was willing to do favors for them when he was in Rivendell). They might even like these midgets.
"Very well. I'll see what I can do. What are your names, small ones? If you're going to work for me, I can't very well call you Midget One and Midget Two," Legolas asked sweetly, hoping they wouldn't pick up on the insult.
They didn't. They were too busy thinking of extra food and hot, willing elf chicks to notice, or care if they had noticed.
"I'm Merry, and he's Pippin," the spokesmidget said. "And we're hobbits, not midgets," he added. Apparently they HAD picked that up after all.
"Well, my good hobbits, thank you for your time, and your cooperation. You shall receive your first snack when I get my first dirty secret.......er.....that is, my first information," Legolas concluded, turning to leave.
"Not so fast, elfy-boy!" the spokesmidget, that is, hobbit, whatsisname, Merry, said. "You're not getting anything until we get our food. And at least one night with the girls."
Legolas sighed and rolled his eyes. There was simply no reasoning with these hobbits! Honestly, he really wished he had them back in Mirkwood, and could throw them into a cellar until they felt cooperative. But he wasn't, and couldn't, so he took what he could get.
"Very well. I will speak to the maidens and get back to you later today. You'd better have something for me, or I will change my mind and possibly become very vexed," he said, trying and failing to look intimidating.
The hobbits just giggled. "Oh, we'll have something for you, all right. That's a promise!" the spokeshobbit, Merry, said. Pippin giggled. Legolas ignored them and walked off.
Once the elf was out of earshot, Pippin turned to Merry and demanded "Are you cracked? Strider will rip you limb from limb and beat me with your dead body if he catches us spying on him. And don't even THINK about what he'll do if we get between him and Elrond's hottie of a daughter!"
Merry shook his head. "Pippin, Pippin, Pippin. Did you honestly think I'd stoop to spying on Strider?"
"Yes."
"Well, yeah, I would, but not for that poncy git of an elf. I've got a plan. Here's what we're gonna do," Merry said. He pulled Pippin in and whispered into his ear. As he whispered, Pippin began to grin, then beam, then laugh out loud.
"Oh, Merry, this will be great!" the younger hobbit giggled. Merry just smirked evilly. That elf had no idea what he'd just gotten himself into.
A/N----what are Merry and Pippin up to? Will Aragorn find out? Will he wash his hair? Will Legolas ever learn? I have no clue. That is the next author's problem.
