TITLE The Secret Secret Council (revised, completed & extended edition)
AUTHOR islington road
RATING G
CATEGORY humour
NOTES This is what happened before the official Secret Council we've all read about - the original version only appeared on my website and was incomplete, this is the final, finished, polished product. For a comprehensive understanding of where this idea came from I suggest checking out the website. Y'never know, you may be converted ^_^
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"No, Aragorn, you can't play with it! It's my turn first. You can have it next," said Elrond, elbowing the future Gondorian king in the ribs. Aragorn was being hounded on all sides by people whose heads didn't quite make it to his ribcage. As such, he was finding it a tad difficult to keep his balance and he kept on being shoved up against Elrond. A fact that made his skin crawl.
Everyone was clustered around Frodo who was leaning against one of the few actual walls that existed in Rivendell. His hobbit companions were the closest to him, one on each side as it were, and the bigger people (since even the dwarf, from a species renowned for their lack of height, stood over a head taller than even the tallest of the hobbits present) were doing battle with each other to see who would get to be the next closest. It was a disturbing sight to see such refined and gentlemanly men behaving like bitchy unwed cousins at the tossing of a bouquet at the end of a wedding. At least there was a noticeable lack of polyester dresses and high heeled shoes with pointy toes. One hopes. Although…
"I thought I was next! And tell the dwarf to stop shoving!" grumped Gandalf.
"That's not me doin' the shovin', Greybeard, it's those damn pesky hobbits stoppin' anyone else from getting to the ring first!"
"That's not fair!" proclaimed the blonde Elf with a toss of his hair. "They've had plenty of chances to play with the damn ring before they even got here, y'know? Good lord, the damn thing's been in the Shire since before any of them were even born! Now give me a look – I've never seen a ring of power before."
Legolas renewed his elbow-based attack on the group. One particularly athletic shove of the Dwarf caused the Elf's green miniskirt to ruck up, exposing a slice of legging-clad Elf-arse. This distracted Aragorn. Unfortunately, with his mind otherwise occupied, he failed to see the staff-waving Wizard edging in from the other side and ended up being pushed to the outer edge of the melee. It was unfortunate because he could no longer see that nice tasty bit of barely clothed Elf. Damn.
"Oh come off it you posturin', poncin' Elf! You've been surrounded by blasted rings of power all your life! You're not inconsiderably long life, at that!" said Gimli, stamping his foot and raising a cloud of dust. Elrond still hadn't got around to sweeping any of the so-called 'rooms' of Rivendell. Leaf litter really builds up. Especially in corners.
In fact, some of the piles were getting to such a height that during a game of hide-and-seek the other day Pippin had nearly drowned in one. However, when he and Merry had asked Elrond ever so politely why didn't he just get a broom and sweep the damn things up the knotty-haired Elf had just snapped that the leaves were 'organic' and that he had better things to do than go finding brooms and then he ponced off. At which point Merry had said why doesn't he just use the broom that's jammed up his arse - but Elrond was either out of earshot by then or had pretended not to hear
"Well, yeah, but, y'know, it's not like Elrond even lets anyone touch his ring – let alone look at it. Like, as if he ever takes it off! Y'know, I think he keeps it on even in the shower – that's why he has so many tangles in his hair, y'know? The damn thing keeps on snagging whenever he tries to wash it. And Galadriel, she's just a possessive bint, i'n't she? Not even Celeborn's allowed to touch her precious ring. Like, she even has people to wash her hair for her so she doesn't have to put up with those tangles, y'know?" drabbled Legolas, slowly inching away from the fuming Elrond. Who was doing the whole smouldering volcano expression complete with steam and smoke effects.
"But what about the third Elven ring?" asked Pippin curiously. "There were three of them, weren't there? Which Elf had the third ring?"
"No Elf, mate," said Legolas, pointing at Gandalf, "it's your grey friend over there that's got the third ring." Gandalf attempted to frown at the Elf while simultaneously trying to look inconspicuous. The overall effect was one of constipation and too-tight underwear.
"But Gandalf!" exclaimed Frodo. "You never mentioned anything about having a ring of your own. Did Bilbo know?" he asked accusingly.
Before Gandalf could reply Sam joined in, "That can't be true, can it Gandalf? Why, there's no ring on any of your fingers now is there?"
("And why would Sam have noticed a thing like that?!" exclaimed Pippin in the quietest whisper possible and looked to Merry for explanation.)
("Buggered if I know," whispered Merry. "Maybe he's got a thing for Wizards?" At this they both shuddered.)
"Oh, but he doesn't wear it on his hand. Do you, mate?" said the Elf to the Wizard with a knowing look and a bit of a nudge.
"So, do you wear it around your neck like me then?" asked Frodo blinkingly.
"Ahh, well, that is to say, not quite, young Frodo –" began Gandalf but he was interrupted by Sam's observation.
"Well, where else would you wear a ring then? You may be a Wizard an' all but surely you'd have to wear the ring like everyone else?" Sam looked to Legolas for guidance but the Elf was too busy snickering off to the side and Elrond's eyebrows were getting closer and closer together and even more steeply sloped.
Thinking it was perhaps time to change the subject of conversation before Elrond's face folded in half, Gandalf cleared his throat and 'harrumff'-ed to get everyone's attention. Then he waved his staff around because the throat thing hadn't worked. The staff-waving did work but only because he managed to ding most everybody behind an ear or on a forehead. Happy that he was the centre of attention again, he spoke.
"Perhaps we should be discussing the reason we are all here instead of bickering", a glance at the Dwarf, "and gossiping', this to the Elf, "like children. Hmmm?"
"You may be right Gandalf." condescended he of the freaky eyebrows, but at least some of the slope was relaxing away, letting Legolas breathe a bit easier. Although he did still snicker from time to time, whenever his gaze landed upon Gandalf.
Now that there was a modicum of silence Elrond took centre stage. That is to say he shuffled a bit and glared until he felt that people were giving him the respect he thought he would deserve had he actually been able to take centre stage as opposed to standing really close to a bunch of people who had mainly spent the last few days or weeks travelling and now had their elbows aimed at each other's throats, and knees at each other's groins. Towering above all, except those that were taller than him (i.e. the Wizard, the Man and the other Elf, leaving only the Dwarf and the halflings to be towered over), Elrond launched into important-lecturing-type-speech mode.
"We are here because the ring must be destroyed, and as such, we all wanted to have a good look and a bit of a touch before it gets tossed away. " There were some nods of ascent, but more bored looks, at this. They all already knew the purpose of the little tete-a-tete, that's why'd they'd been tussling. But they all stayed silent, no one was brave enough to interrupt his mightiness oh-the-great-curtain-wearing one for fear that he might start his speech from the beginning again. "Only the most worthy have been gathered here, the finest of your species, and in some cases, the only representatives who were available at such short notice – damn the lack of efficient mass transport in this backward age – however," here he paused to do that gumby Elf breath/pause thing that they do, "as not all were (pause) invited, this must remain (pause) a (pause) secret council. On no account must (pause) you reveal this gathering or (pause) any communications exch- (pause) –anged therein to beings that were (pause) not present." Dramatic narrowing of the eyebrows.
"You mean Boromir." said Merry.
"Yes. Boromir." said Elrond.
"Who's Boromir? said Frodo.
"The man." said Sam.
"Is that another one of Strider's names?" asked Frodo the wonder hobbit.
"No, Master Frodo, Strider's names are Ara-"
"Nah, Boromir's that tasty looking guy in the red dress who arrived ages ago 'cos of some dream or something." interrupted the Elf before Sam could rattle off the exhaustive list of Aragorn's nomenclature.
"What do mean 'tasty'?" aforesaid over named man asked tetchily. "I thought I was man enough for you?"
Legolas just rolled his eyes.
"Ahem." This time it was the Dwarf doing the throat-clearing. "Movin' right along."
"Quite," agreed Elrond, "so, pull it out Frodo – and I mean the ring – so we can all have a good look at it without Boromir."
"But why?" asked Merry.
"Why what?" asked Elrond, exasperated.
"Why without Boromir?" asked Merry.
"Because." said Elrond.
"Because what?" asked Pippin this time.
Stumped, Elrond looked beseechingly at Gandalf who went back to doing that unsuccessful frown/inconspicuous combination look thing. It didn't work. Again.
"To, ahh, strengthen relations between members of the fellowship and reinforce such bonds with in-group out-group behavioural patterns?" suggested Gandalf not all that confidently.
"What fellowship?" asked Frodo who'd stopped rolling his eyes while fingering the ring long enough to speak coherently.
"Ahh, Elrond?" Gandalf queried.
"The, yes, the fellowship that you are all going to form to, uhhh, escort Frodo –"
"And the ring!" interjected Sam.
"Yes, and the ring," resumed Elrond, "to the fiery chasm from whence it came. Hey, that's a trendy line. I better write that one down.
"Since it is my secret council that I called secretly," he continued, "I decide in which order we get to secretly examine the ring and I say descending order of age - from oldest to youngest. I'm the eldest that makes me first so hand it over Frodo my boy!" Elrond thrust out his hand imperiously.
"Unh," said Frodo, rolling his eyes.
"Sam! Stop performing inappropriate oral-based sexual practices upon Frodo this instant!" demanded
the (ugly) Elf.
("Performing what?" questioned Pippin in a hushed whisper.)
("A. Blow. Job." mouthed Merry back.)
"But I'm not!" protested Sam.
"He's doing it himself!" exclaimed Pippin. Aragorn glanced over, looking curious.
"Frodo's giving himself a blowjob?" queried the (pretty) Elf, an elegant eyebrow raised.
"No," blushed Pippin, embarrassed (for being a dick, not for discussing oral sex). "I meant, Frodo's moaning and sighing on his own. No one's doing anything to him," clarified the young hobbit.
"It's the ring!" yelled Sam, leaping forward with his hands outstretched ready to wrench the ring away from his precious master.
("Oh God. He thinks everything is the ring." complained Pippin hushedly.)
("Don't I know it. Frodo farts - it's the ring! A cloud covers the sun - it's the ring! The sausages get burnt -it's the ring! The Elf and Aragorn go at it too loudly one night - it's the ring! We forbid him and Frodo from using perfectly edible carrots as sex toys - it's the ring! Frodo makes pathetic whiny noises -it's the ring!")
("But that is the ring, isn't it?")
("Nah, it's Frodo being a drama queen is what it is.")
Frodo was, as it turns out, stroking the ring in rhythm to his breaths, the moans were thrown in at irregular intervals and the eye-rolling was making Merry, the mighty river-fording hobbit, feel seasick.
"Oh for goodness' sake," muttered Gandalf, grabbing Elrond's hand. The Wizard yanked up the absurd flowey, drapey sleeve and, equally abruptly, pulled the shiny-glittery ring off of Elrond's finger. He then stormed over to melodramatic!Frodo and substituted one ring for the other. All before Frodo had time gasp ridiculously. "There," he said, shoving the one ring in Elrond's face (and nearly up his nose), "happy now?". Elrond was lost for words.
"It's... it's..." This, however, did not actually stop him from trying to say something. Well, you know Elves, damn things never shut up - blather blather blather all damn day. And when they're not babbling on they're reciting awful poetry or, even worse, singing awful poetry. The prats.
"Yes yes," muttered Gandalf, "it's impressive, all-powerful, supreme, omnipotent -"
"Shiny..." breathed Elrond breathily. Gandalf raised his eyebrows.
"It's been called many things, my dear fellow, but -" An elbow in the lower abdomen, eye-wateringly close to a very delicate area, interrupted his flow of words. Mainly by knocking the breath out of him.
"Aren't you supposed to say that to me?" asked Frodo, who had come out of his ring-of-power induced orgy-for-one quickly enough when he thought he was losing valuable screen-time. This is, in fact, a surprisingly unremarked yet remarkable talent possessed certainly by Frodo and perhaps by hobbit ringbearers the world over. Consider this - even when apparently unconscious, this hobbit ring bearer has the power to gasp and moan dramatically whenever his presence has been ignored for more than 2 seconds or if it looks like someone is about to have a moment more dramatic than his. Incredible, really.
"Actually, I think he's supposed to say it to Bilbo," said Merry.
"Are you sure?" questioned Frodo, frowning slightly and looking as if he wanted to give the appearance of deep and meaningful thought without actually having to go to the effort to think deeply and meaningfully.
"Of course I'm sure," said Merry mildly affronted. But only mildly since he was used to Frodo being something of a brainless, incompetent moron.
"You should listen to him, y'know," added Legolas, "he is the only one out of all you hobbits who actually possesses a brain, y'know." The hobbits nodded in agreement, it was true after all. Well, all the hobbits except Frodo who had stopped paying attention to others and slipped back in to his poor pale put-upon persona again and was sighing in an all-suffering way.
Aragorn nodded in agreement in the background. He did this without actually changing his facial expression from 'deep dark mysterious man-who-might-soon-be-king brooding deep dark mysterious soon-to-be-king thoughts that you-who-are-a-mere-heir-to-the-stewardship-would-know-nothing-about-seeing-as-how-you're-only-a-mere-heir-to-the-stewardship-and-not-a-possibly-soon-to-be-king-deep-dark-mysterious-type-guy. So there. With knobs on. Which was pretty good for just a nod, really, when you think about it.
After this mild distraction everyone turned back to Elron' of the silent 'd' who was still standing staring at the ring. Enraptured.
"Ahem." Gandalf cleared his throat.
"Ahem," he tried again.
"AH-" he started. But was interrupted by a forest of red pubic hair at just above belly-button height. It spoke. It was the dwarf.
"Perhaps you'll let me try this my way, master Wizard," it rumbled.
"Of course." Gandalf stepped aside.
By-passing all of the Wizard's subtle approaches, Gimli proceeded in the traditional, straightforward, Dwarvish way.
He thwacked Elrond in the back of the knees with the haft of his battleaxe.
The Elf toppled. And the ring went flying.
All eyes followed it's graceful arc straight into Gandalf's hand. Then, everyone (except Gandalf) looked down to the horizontal Elf. And sniggered.
Apparently, they'd all been around Legolas a bit too long.
There is no real way to describe the thoughts that pass through someone's head. It is even trickier with an Elf's head since they are, more often than not, quite empty and so the few thoughts that make it through all that hair on the outside tend to bounce around and echo. Try putting three five year olds in a big, empty enclosed space, then step outside. You'd swear there's nine hundred of the little buggers. And this was an Elf's head with a ring of power. The ring of power. It went a little something like this…
Ooooh, shiny… ooooh ring… ahhhhh… shhhhiiiiiiiiny… precious ring… prrrrrrreeeeeehh-shuss… ooooh… shiny… ooooh ring… ahhhhh… shhhhiiiiiiiiny… I wonder how my hair's looking… ooooooohhh shhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiny….
…and so on.
Not surprising, really, that with two powerful rings between them the Elves had not been able to destroy a great enemy, rule all middle-earth, find decent tailors or master the simple art of hair cutting. Eh.
However, the Elf in question was now more concerned with the state of his nose than precious shiny rings. It was his nose that had taken most of the impact when he'd face-planted on to his dusty, leafy floor. Courtesy of the Dwarf, damn his steel-wool encrusted head. Elrond sneezed. The ache reminded him again that his injured nose was of paramount concern, it didn't seem to be bleeding, he hoped it wasn't broken. Or puffy. Or red in an unbecoming manner. He hoped his hair was okay. That Dwarf was going to pay… like for any and all associated dry-cleaning bills. These robes were very, very expensive.
That Dwarf, having stopped sniggering over the Elf on the ground, was now shuffling impatiently and glaring at the Wizard. Along with everyone else. Except for Frodo who was counting the seconds since attention had been taken away from him and getting ready to either sigh melodramatically or start hyperventilating. And Elrond, who was slowly picking himself up off the ground and picking bits of crushed leaves out of his hair, embroidered curtain robes, mouth, eyebrows and between his teeth.
("Hah! Serves the stupid prat right!" proclaimed Pippin in a self-righteous whisper to Merry, pointing at the recovering Elf.)
("Snhhn hhn hhn," sniggered Merry hushedly, in complete agreement.)
Legolas had caught on to the little hobbitses' covert whisperings and had overheard this exchange and tapped Merry, who was closest to him, on the shoulder and mimed kicking the elder Elf in the arse to send him sprawling back into the leafy, dusty floor. This sent the two hobbitses into paroxysms of suppressed giggles. Pippin so much so that he doubled over and began sliding towards ground. Merry would've tried to rescue him from the dust and leaves only he had his eyes closed tightly and was trying to remember how to breathe in while laughing out, making him a bit preoccupied to actually notice what his cousin was doing. Legolas just thought the whole thing kept on getting funnier and funnier and was practically incontinent due to laughter.
Aragorn was watching the whole scene between Merry, Pippin and his sometime lover, with his impassive mask on. This time it seemed to be saying 'I would laugh if I was that juvenile, however, I haven't ever been that juvenile seeing as how I was actually born with a brain' which was quite a mouthful for a face to be saying. But even Mr Stoic himself couldn't refrain from giggling when Elrond began experiencing severe difficulty in the getting-up department. This was mainly due to the fact that a booted foot was standing on the hem of the Elf's curtain-robe. The boot just happened to house the sturdy foot of an innocent-looking Dwarf. A Dwarf who looked so innocent his eyes were firmly looking skywards and he was whistling an innocent little tune that, had it had words, would have gone something like 'I'm a little innocent tune, ho hum, couldn't get anymore innocent if you tried, la di dah, how sweet and innocent am I…' etc, etc. It was innocence you could've bounced rocks off and was just too much for the Ranger.
Sam and Frodo were mostly oblivious to all of this as what wasn't going over their heads (literally) was being ignored. Mostly because Frodo was running through his repertoire of dramatic gestures and breathing techniques and Sam was playing the captive audience to Frodo's dramatic gestures and breathing techniques. Quite secretly he was hoping that Mr Frodo would stop breathing or go into cardiac arrest so he, Samwise Gamgee, would be able to perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on dear Mr Frodo.
The Wizard, upon whom all (well, most- actually, only some) attention had been industrially riveted upon until they'd found better things to look at, was gazing beatifically at the shiny gold ring cupped in his palm. Being a Wizard, Gandalf had considerably more intelligence than any Elf and, despite his equally impressive amount of hair, had many more thoughts buzzing around inside his head. However, it should be said that just because there were more thoughts inside Gandalf's head it did not necessarily follow that they were in anyway better than the thoughts in Elrond's head. What the wizard's intelligence did mean, however, was that his thoughts were more coherent than the Elf's, and looked something like this…
Ah hah! I have the shiny ring now! All I have to do is slip it on and let that overrated git of a Sauron sniff me out, his minions should take me right to him then its poke in that big eye of
his and while he's still smarting from that out with the lemon juice! Better yet, carbolic acid! That should fix him once and for all! Then I can move on to my real foe! I shall trip merrily along to Saruman's phallic symbol of a tower and wave the shiny ring under his nose saying
Look who's got the pretty ring now you double-crossing, white-robed bastard! Hah! That'll teach him! Thinking he can wrest the best all-round fireworks championship heavyweight title
from me, does he! This'll show him! Whomsoever has the ring has the power! And I have the ring! And the much more splendid facial hair! And Wizard's staff! And dress sense! And architectural accomplishment! And…
…and so on and so on and so on. Perhaps it isn't any more coherent than Elron' in the end. Oh well.
The other members of the secret secret meeting were not, alas, able to see inside the Wizard's head. All they were able to see was the beatific smile on Gandalf's face with a string of drool leaking out if the corner and puddling on his robes. This was combined with eyes that were wide open and unblinking. It was quite an articulate look. It said 'I'm mentally deranged. Please escort me to a room with padded wallpaper and an infinite supply of little blue pills'. Which was exactly what was going to happen to the Wizard had Legolas not gotten impatient and said "Alright, enough's enough. It's my turn now, hand it over." Unfortunately this had the same effect on Gimli as feeding the cat's food to the dog in full view of the hungry cat. That is, it made him very, very angry.
"I believe, master Elf, that is my turn with the ring,' the Dwarf snarled, hackles and axe up and pointing at the Elf.
"Oi, no need to get violent, mate," Legolas waved his hand in the direction of the Dwarf's upraised axe.
"But it is my turn, no offence. I'm the next in line, seeing as how I'm the next eldest and all, y'know."
"Oh, but I beg to differ master Elf. I believe I am the next eldest. Making me the next in line. You'll have to wait your turn with all the rest of the youngsters," Gimli smiled at the last bit. It wasn't often he got to pull rank on an Elf.
"Just who exactly are you calling a 'youngster', you infant," He paused to look down his nose at the Dwarf and added, "you short infant." And tossed his hair. It wasn't the most witty of comebacks, but he was dealing with a Dwarf, so it didn't need to be. It was enough to make the Dwarf fume.
"Now that, laddie, was hitting below the belt!" Gimli growled, his whole body in pre-attack stance.
However, it was too good a line to ignore in the Elf's eyes, no matter how threatening the Dwarf looked and how much he frowned. And bristled "Below the belt? I'd have to get down on my knees before I could even reach your belt, Dwarf." There was no glossing over the sneer in the Elf's voice now. It was rush-hour at bitch-central and all claws were out.
Merry and Pippin had been enjoying the exchange between the Elf and the Dwarf since they had discovered that even after what was only a short acquaintance with the two species that any interaction between them was bound to provide fine entertainment - if not bloodshed. Especially in a place as unexciting as Rivendell. Those people had a serious lack in the social life department. They got excited over the colour of the leaves, for crying out loud.
Aragorn had actually been lost in a deep-dark-mysterious-type-guy brood over nothing much in particular but had been jolted out of it and into alertness when a certain blonde had mentioned getting down on his knees. The flood of mental images - some springing from memory and others from fantasy - made his blood surge. Once he got himself up to speed on the circumstances that the phrase had been uttered in, ie. not connected to getting naked anytime soon in anyway at all, he resumed his deep-dark-mysterious brooding. You could tell because his eyes glazed over and his jaw went slack. That expression positively guaranteed he was brooding, or that Elron' was pontificating. Had the soon-to-be-king been drooling then you could have been certain he was thinking about lover-boy and his knees.
Gimli had finally stopped rumbling over Legolas' belt comment and was gearing himself up for a comeback but logic overwhelmed him and instead he asked "So, how old are you then, Elf-boy?"
Legolas huffed before replying, "I'm not telling".
"Why is that? Don't want to admit to how young you really are, eh?"
"Nothing of the sort. It just isn't done in polite society you inbred, undergrown oaf." Legolas seemed to be touchy on the subject.
"Ah hah!," exclaimed the Dwarf, thinking triumph was within snatching distance. "Something you don't want to admit to, hey Elf?"
"No-oo," the Elf seemed a tad uncertain, 'it's just that whatever age I admit to being you'll just say you're older. So there. How old are you, Dwarf?"
"I'm on to your game, Elf. You'll not get an answer out of me."
At this point the frantic whisperings between Merry and Pippin ceased. They were replaced with the scribblings of Pippin signing an IOU. He'd bet the Elf was older than the Dwarf whereas Merry had put his money on there being a stalemate. Being a more observant student of human, Elf and Dwarf nature he had thought it unlikely that Gimli and Legolas could resolve any dispute between them even if armed with actual physical evidence. So, now Merry owed him a full pint the next time they passed Butterbur's establishment. Heh heh heh. A whole pint! Things were looking good!
By now, Gimli had taken his foot off of Elrond's robes in order to step threateningly towards the other Elf, this enabled the ancient Elf to finally stand up. He huffed when he saw the state his robes were in. They'd definitely have to go the dry-cleaners and he'd be buggered if he was going to pay for it. The bill was going directly that little shortarse with hair like a toilet brush! Speaking of which… the little shortarse appeared about ready to spill blood all over his trendy (if unswept) floors. It was time to intervene, he decided.
"That is more than enough! The pair of you! Fighting like children! I expect much more mature behaviour from the both of you! Now, what is the issue under debate?" Like most interrupting adults Elron' had absolutely no idea about the situation he was sticking his nose into. This, of course, reduced both Elf and Dwarf to the level of snot-nosed five year olds.
"He started it!" They both exclaimed, each pointing at the other. A chorus of "Did not!", "Did too!", "Did not!" subsequently followed. Then they both attempted to explain their version of events over the top of the other one's voice in ever increasing volume.
All that racket was still not enough to stir Aragorn from his meaningful brood, as it involved no mention body parts. The topic of his lover's age was of no interest to the soon-to-be-king because he'd already established that the Elf was over the age of consent. Not that that sort of thing bothered the Elves as a race all that much. Arwen had, after all, started hitting on him when he was only twelve. And he hadn't even been a very developed twelve at that! He'd still been short and scrawny and, well, small. And to be honest, the only real change the last seventy years has brought about was that he was taller, and that wasn't much when compared to the lofty heights the Elves reached. Meeting up with blokes like Boromir only reinforced the fact that in terms of shoulder-widths he was nothing to write home about. And that while he, Aragorn, could wield a sword - guys like Boromir could not only wield bigger, heavier swords but also big-arse shields at the same time. Well, he had only seen Boromir carrying his sword and shield and not wielding them per se but he had checked out those shoulders and arms and… shoulders. And didn't he half feel inadequate. Good thing he hadn't seen any more of Boromir's body… On the other had, maybe it was all padding. Maybe what he needed was a peek under that ornate tunic to see if he really did have anything to feel embarrassed about. Well, as soon as this secret secret meeting was all over he knew where he'd be heading. He should probably ask Legolas if he wanted to come along as well, the Elf was much better at worming his way into unsuspecting soul's bedchambers, and Aragorn should know .
Aragorn hadn't been the only one oblivious to the debacle betwixt Elf and Dwarf. Sam and Frodo had also been blissfully unaware of the heated exchange. Well, of that heated exchange. They were quite aware of their own heated exchange. Mainly because the sparks it was causing were threatening to set the piles of dead leaves alight.
"There now, Mr Frodo, " said Sam, stroking his master's arm and looking meaningfully into the other hobbit's eyes. His big blue eyes. Big blue eyes that he could get lost in. Eyes of such blueness that Sam was reminded of other objects of supreme blueness like the sky, and bluebells, and the sky. Sam sighed. But meaningfully and in Frodo's direction.
"Oh, Sam," simpered Frodo, "whatever would I do without you?" The unspoken answer was 'Find someone else to be you personal one-man audience and gopher and preparer of cooked breakfasts.' But Sam was not that sort of hobbit (otherwise he wouldn't be puppy- doggying someone as lame as Frodo around) and so all he said was "Oh, Mr Frodo."
By this point, Elron' had reached the end of his tether, his goat had been got, his fuse was well and truly lit, his mind was ablaze and other quaint euphemisms to describe how well and truly pissed he was. He didn't so much as have a face of thunder so much as he had a face that looked like it was one tremor off a serious disturbance of the fault lines. As incensed as a Greek orthodox church at Easter, the absolutely livid Elf shoved his way between the arguing Elf and Dwarf, billowing robes and knotty hair flying. He snatched the staff from the gibbering, dribbling Wizard and aimed it threateningly at the Dwarf. "OK! That is enough! This childish bickering is to end at once! You, Greenleaf!" Here the staff swung around to point at the stunned blonde. "You're next with the ring! You, Dwarf!" and the staff swung back to the Dwarf like a compass needle, "You go after him! Alright? Everyone satisfied?" Elron' thumped the staff on the ground, the pointy tip actually got embedded in the floor with the force.
Stunned into voicelessness, Gimli and Legolas nodded meekly. Neither were really in the market to see Elron's face turn that shade of purple ever again. It did clash so horribly with his dress, robes, things. And his hair.
Merry and Pippin were a tad put out at the abrupt end of the performance, they'd had a bet running to see how long it would be before the arguing had roused the ranger. Pippin also hadn't been able to finish his new game of count-the-sticky-outy-veins- on -Elron's-neck. He'd only got up to seventeen. Disappointed, the two young hobbitses agreed to declare interference and the bet was suspended.
Aragorn, with eyes still glazed, didn't seem to have noticed anything much at all. Which, quite frankly, wasn't anything new. At least he hadn't dribbled like Gandalf, though. The not-quite-perhaps-possibly-maybe-if-he-ever-gets-his-act-together-king only had a single cobweb-thin strand hanging off his chin. Which is why, boys and girls, it's unwise to spend much time thinking about Elves.
Comfortable in his supreme commander of the universe role once more, Elron' relieved Gandalf of the burdensome ring and handed it over to Legolas. The Wizard trickled back into awareness and asked quite happily if he'd been 'gone long' while trying to disguise the waterfall of saliva down his front. He gave Elron' something of a stern look when he realised someone had been mucking about with his very important wizarding staff.
When it had been established that Gandalf was the same, benign loony he'd been to begin with and that the ring of power had not actually caused any ill effects whatsoever, the secret secret council members' heads turned in unison to stare at Legolas. What they saw gave them a shock.
The Elf was standing with the ring on his finger, turning his hand this way and that, glancing at it from different angles. He gave a considering hum then looked up in to the startled faces surrounding him. "What?" He slipped the ring off and gave it to the Dwarf. "Gold just isn't my colour, y'know. It doesn't go at all with my hair. I've always thought platinum suited me better, y'know. And it's much more exotic," this he said with a well-known toss of said hair (patent pending).
The hobbitses who had been paying attention nodded as if this explained everything and was perfectly sensible (which it was) and went back to whatever it was they'd been doing. Elron' and Gandalf , however, were still gobsmacked. You could tell because they really did look as if someone had hauled back and let fly with a good one right across their respective kissers. Neither could believe that the juvenile Elf had not only touched the ring but had actually put it on… and hadn't been corrupted. At all. Whatsoever. They exchanged bewildered looks, and shrugged in unison. Both seemed inclined to put such a bizarre event down to Legolas' mind-melting shallowness. Apparently, not even Sauron could overwhelm a mind so focussed on it's body's good looks and sense of style. And they were right.
Aragorn agreed that the ring didn't suit his lover. He didn't think that anything suited his lover. His lover should just be bare-arsed naked all the time, the better for him to appreciate said bare arse. Well, perhaps on consideration, some sticky chocolate sauce just might suit his lover - but only if it was strategically trickled on all the right places… and in all the right places… And the ranger's eyes glazed over again with drool on stand-by.
While all of this was going on, the Dwarf had had the ring. Unlike Legolas, however, Gimli was content just to hold the ring in his hand. And hold it he did, he had his hand cupped and was cradling the ring as if it was some strange, rare, precious, powerful ,compelling, extraordinary thing. Which, come to think of it, it was.
Disgruntled that he was now no longer the centre of attention, Legolas peered intently at Gimli to make sure the little cave-dweller didn't try to one-up him in the award-winning performance stakes. You couldn't trust the little buggers any further than you could toss one them. Legolas knew, he'd tried, and measured it to the nearest inch.
But all Gimli did was stand there with an intense look on his face, as if he was trying to add up numbers in his head without using his fingers.
Curious (which was something of a cliché, really), Pippin got closer. He reached up and waved a hand in front of the Dwarf's eyes. Nothing. He shrugged and went back to calculating odds with Merry.
Just when Elron' thought that the little dry-cleaning-bill-paying sod had taken up enough of his time and he had moved forward to take the ring, Gimli came to. That is, he appeared to move forward without actually moving, and his eyes did a slow blink before refocusing on the assorted bunch in front of him. Said assorted bunch all leaned in to get a better look at what was about to happen. Breaths held, necks craned, anticipation tingling and zinging down to their toes and back up again they waited and then -
He sniffed. Gimli brought up his arm to wipe his nose on the aged stainless-steel-with-riveted-leather motif sleeve, handed the ring over to Elron' and blinked back tears.
Everyone looked at him as if he was the queerest thing upon the face, or in the bowels , of the earth.
"What?" he demanded gruffly. His captivated audience all shook their heads with mute determination to pretend nothing at all was out of the ordinary, oh no, every little thing was abso-perfectly-lutely a-ok, indeedy, totally, completely, whatever you say mister dwarf. Everyday we see a Dwarf hold a ring of power and burst in to tears like a sodding great baby, happens all the time…
Pippin gave Merry a nudge in the ribs with his elbow.
("Do you think Legolas broke it? Or maybe Gandalf?" he whispered.)
("What?")
("You know, the ring.")
("Could be, wouldn't put it past Sauron to have made a shoddy ring.")
Aragorn chose that moment to rouse from his chocolate sauce induced fantasy-for-one and wondered why the hell everyone else was staring at Gimli as if he'd just grown another head and a bright pink tutu. Maybe he'd just admitted to wearing women's underwear, but that was old news, Aragorn thought. Surely Gandalf couldn't have been surprised by it, he was the one who'd spilled it to Aragorn in the first place. He'd have to remember to ask Merry and Pippin when this was all over, they always seem to have a good idea what was going on around the place - probably came from all that listening at keyholes they did.
There was a brief space of embarrassed looks and throat clearing while everyone tried to put the image of the upset Dwarf out of their collective minds. Gandalf was the first to recover his equilibrium and said in his most reasonable voice, "It's Aragorn's turn next, isn't it?" Legolas' pointy ears perked up. He wanted to have front row seats for this. He sensed the potential for exquisite blackmail material on the ranger. He'd never be able to forgive himself if he didn't take advantage of the situation. And so he sidled closer, slipping a bit on some of the damn omnipresent leaves.
Aragorn's ears had perked up, too, at the sound of (one of his many) names and he relinquished the thoughts about what exactly little hobbits could see, as well as hear, through keyholes for later perusal. And tried as inconspicuously as possible to wipe the drool from his chin.
In one of those supreme acts of self-control, Aragorn's expression did not betray even the slightest hint of what he was feeling. Elron' took this to be a sign of his stalwart nature and congratulated himself again on having roped the boy into being affianced to his daughter. Although, if the boy couldn't get visibly excited about the greatest ring of power the age had seen he didn't hold out much hope for his daughter's wedding night… What Elron' didn't know was that the ranger's face was stiff from maintaining his manly deep-dark-mysterious-brooding expression for the entirety of the so-called secret secret council.
Gandalf thought that Aragorn's stern manner possibly stemmed from his warrior like nature. The whole 'no fear in the face of battle' type stuff. The Wizard congratulated himself on having chosen such a fine guard for the caravan of hobbits and their trek from The Prancing Pony all the way to Rivendell. He wasn't privy to the ranger's stiff muscles, either.
Neither Merry or Pippin could really make out Aragorn's expression. As with most Big People whom were standing close by, all they could see of his face was the jut of a chin crowned by a pair of nostrils, and in this instance, framed by some dark, lank hair. Pippin supposed that if he'd been hard pressed he could've said that the nostrils were some of the of the most stoic he'd ever had the pleasure to look up into. Merry was divided on that point. He'd thought that Boromir's nostrils had seemed more stoic, that most of what he'd seen of Boromir had seemed stoic, quite stoic in fact… Sometimes it paid off to peer through keyholes, it really did.
Sam and Frodo, however, were still too preoccupied with meaningful eye contact to have noticed anything. At all. Frodo was using Elron's ring as a substitute and was busy fingering it in suggestive ways. This was having the desired effect upon Sam who was alternately captivated by the motions of the finger and the ring and jealous of some crude, hammered out piece of metal trash that had no business being so close and intimate with Mr Frodo's delicate, pale, petal-soft skin. Such a reaction from his audience just drove Frodo to new melodramatic heights. If he fluttered his eyelashes any more he was in danger of doing himself an injury…
Gimli was feeling quite embarrassed about the whole thing and was studiously avoiding looking at anyone by engaging in some in0deth, highly-focused observation of his boots. Otherwise he, too, probably would have thought something terribly sappy and brainwashy like 'Wasn't Aragorn so brave for being the first proper mortal to get so close to the ring without being tempted blah blah blah".
Except that Aragorn wasn't exactly a proper mortal, he was about as far away from being a normal man as it was possible to be while still having non-pointy ears and being roughly human-shaped. Not that mortality seemed to have much to do with being tempted by the ring - Elron' and Gandalf were easily seducible by it's whisperings and promises whereas not a single man in all of The Prancing Pony had even so much as caught a whiff of it (which was a pity, really, since most of the fellows had been independently mobile, having their own horses and the like, and were all presumably capable of enduring a fortnight's or so journey to Mordor to hand the ring back to the disembodied guy who'd made it, would have saved a lot of trouble, really ). And it couldn't be attracted to power alone, otherwise it made no sense as to why Frodo found it so burdensome…
Aragorn was thinking similar thoughts behind his mask of cramped facial muscles. He'd never understood what was so important about the ring. So it was trying to get back to it's master - that made it sound like an obedient dog. Quite frankly, he couldn't see what was so important about that, the so-called master was a giant eye. How the hell could a giant eye wield a ring? By using it as a rather bizarre monocle? Besides, he had better things to, namely dragging his Elf-lover-boy over to bad-boy Boromir's bedroom and seeing just what shape of man was hidden by that dressy, gold-filigreed tunic. And whether certain Gondorian heirs-to-stewardships had a fondness for bittersweet chocolate sauce when licked off sweet, sweet Elf-arse. Thoughts like that made bits other than his face stiff.
Elron' handed over the ring to Aragorn, still admiring the ranger's composure, with Legolas practically under his feet in order to get a good look at any and all reactions. Unfortunately, this was somewhat distracting for the ranger, having so recently being enjoying lascivious thoughts about the very close Elf. The very, very close Elf. So close, in fact, that Aragorn was positive he could smell the individual strands of Legolas' hair. His brain was barely maintaining any vital processes above his waist, it was hardly capable of registering the weight of the ring in his hand when Elron' passed it over.
It could have possibly gone down in history as the most anti-climatic ring-of-power sequence ever.
Even more anti-climatic than Gimli's nose wiping.
Aragorn just stood there. Grunted once. And handed it back.
His eyes didn't even change their depth of focus. Nary a flicker of expression flickered anywhere.
Legolas pouted. But in a pretty way so that anyone paying proper attention would see he could be cajoled out of it, and without doing anything so low as to make his pretty Elven face look unpleasant.
Elron' and Gandalf were annoyed and pleased in equal measure. Pleased because this meant there'd be at least one trustworthy person in the fellowship who could deal with the ring. And annoyed because the Man hadn't succumbed to the same depths of idiocy that they had. Fair is fair, though - Aragorn wasn't as much of an idiot as they were.
Merry and Pippin were not at all downcast, they hadn't been expecting anything that could possibly compare to the outburst between Legolas and Gimli for entertainment value. Still, it may have been just the teensiest bit more exciting if Aragorn had suddenly, y'know, burst into flames or collapsed onto his knees, clutching at his head screaming 'I can't take it, I can't take it anymore!' Or even if some mysterious goo had spurted forth from somewhere (although both hobbitses were not to know how close that had been to actually happening, which was a bit odd considering their proximity to the ranger's groin, they must have been occupied with the whole nostril-gazing thing).
("You're right," whispered Merry to Pippin, "it must be broken!")
And Frodo and Sam's reaction? Well, they'd been a bit preoccupied. I'll give you three guesses as to what they were preoccupied with… At least there were no handy carrots around the place.
Some of the whispers between Merry and Pippin may have reached Elron's ears, if only subliminally, as he was holding the one ring up to the light and shaking it a bit. Unless he was just trying to hide his embarrassment. Gandalf was also fiddling as displacement activity, only he was twirling the end of his beard around.
Elron' lowered the ring and cleared his throat, "Well, that concludes this secret secret council. Time now for you to have the ring back, Frodo."
"Wait! What about us? Don't we get a turn with it?" cried Pippin dismayed. But not as dismayed as Elron' who couldn't bear to think about being upstaged by something only four feet high.
"Uhh, that is, I think, judging by Frodo's reaction to the ring it would be… unwise to trouble any other hobbits with such a burden. Isn't that right, Gandalf?" Elron' turned to the Wizard for support. Again.
"Oh, quite right. Quite right, indeed." At this the Wizard was besieged by the visages of two pouting hobbitses. He stooped down and ruffled Pippin's curly hair with a ringless, gnarled hand and said,
"Maybe next time? Hmmm?"
(Puzzled, Pippin turned to Merry and whispered, "Next time? What the hell does the daft old loony mean by a next time? Are there other one rings of power that he's not telling us about or something?')
(Merry was equally clueless and could only shrug.)
Noticing the complete lack of reaction his statement received from the supposed ringbearer, Elron' waved the ring under Frodo' nose until the brainless hobbit finally realised his attention was wanted. With a supreme effort he tore his gaze away from meaningful eye-contact with Sam and looked up into Elron's flaring nostrils.
"Here, Frodo. Time to switch rings." And with that, Frodo was once again in possession of the one ring. He sighed dramatically casing Sam to clasp both of his hands, look deeply into his eyes and asked in his most concerned tone of voice if he was 'alright, Mr Frodo?'. "Oh, Sam," was all that Frodo could manage.
Sensing that the time for entertainment had passed, Merry and Pippin had started to make their way out, if they weren't going to be allowed to play with the ring like everyone else then they were going to find interesting keyholes to listen at and peer through. The young hobbitses were followed by the boot-scuffing Dwarf when Elron's voice rang out.
"Gimli? A word if you will." Merry and Pippin sniggered.
Aragorn had managed to convey to Legolas that they should leave together and so the lovers headed on out as well.
Gandalf practically tripped over the stationary Frodo-and-Sam-still-life-tableaux. "Time to move on, you two," he suggested and began herding them out of the chamber. The trio were close enough to hear Legolas' clear voice exclaim, "You, me, him and the chocolate sauce! Why Aragorn, I never knew you had in it you!"
However, Merry and Pippin had overheard the Elf as well. Now they knew exactly which keyhole to look through that evening.
THE END
AUTHOR islington road
RATING G
CATEGORY humour
NOTES This is what happened before the official Secret Council we've all read about - the original version only appeared on my website and was incomplete, this is the final, finished, polished product. For a comprehensive understanding of where this idea came from I suggest checking out the website. Y'never know, you may be converted ^_^
~~
"No, Aragorn, you can't play with it! It's my turn first. You can have it next," said Elrond, elbowing the future Gondorian king in the ribs. Aragorn was being hounded on all sides by people whose heads didn't quite make it to his ribcage. As such, he was finding it a tad difficult to keep his balance and he kept on being shoved up against Elrond. A fact that made his skin crawl.
Everyone was clustered around Frodo who was leaning against one of the few actual walls that existed in Rivendell. His hobbit companions were the closest to him, one on each side as it were, and the bigger people (since even the dwarf, from a species renowned for their lack of height, stood over a head taller than even the tallest of the hobbits present) were doing battle with each other to see who would get to be the next closest. It was a disturbing sight to see such refined and gentlemanly men behaving like bitchy unwed cousins at the tossing of a bouquet at the end of a wedding. At least there was a noticeable lack of polyester dresses and high heeled shoes with pointy toes. One hopes. Although…
"I thought I was next! And tell the dwarf to stop shoving!" grumped Gandalf.
"That's not me doin' the shovin', Greybeard, it's those damn pesky hobbits stoppin' anyone else from getting to the ring first!"
"That's not fair!" proclaimed the blonde Elf with a toss of his hair. "They've had plenty of chances to play with the damn ring before they even got here, y'know? Good lord, the damn thing's been in the Shire since before any of them were even born! Now give me a look – I've never seen a ring of power before."
Legolas renewed his elbow-based attack on the group. One particularly athletic shove of the Dwarf caused the Elf's green miniskirt to ruck up, exposing a slice of legging-clad Elf-arse. This distracted Aragorn. Unfortunately, with his mind otherwise occupied, he failed to see the staff-waving Wizard edging in from the other side and ended up being pushed to the outer edge of the melee. It was unfortunate because he could no longer see that nice tasty bit of barely clothed Elf. Damn.
"Oh come off it you posturin', poncin' Elf! You've been surrounded by blasted rings of power all your life! You're not inconsiderably long life, at that!" said Gimli, stamping his foot and raising a cloud of dust. Elrond still hadn't got around to sweeping any of the so-called 'rooms' of Rivendell. Leaf litter really builds up. Especially in corners.
In fact, some of the piles were getting to such a height that during a game of hide-and-seek the other day Pippin had nearly drowned in one. However, when he and Merry had asked Elrond ever so politely why didn't he just get a broom and sweep the damn things up the knotty-haired Elf had just snapped that the leaves were 'organic' and that he had better things to do than go finding brooms and then he ponced off. At which point Merry had said why doesn't he just use the broom that's jammed up his arse - but Elrond was either out of earshot by then or had pretended not to hear
"Well, yeah, but, y'know, it's not like Elrond even lets anyone touch his ring – let alone look at it. Like, as if he ever takes it off! Y'know, I think he keeps it on even in the shower – that's why he has so many tangles in his hair, y'know? The damn thing keeps on snagging whenever he tries to wash it. And Galadriel, she's just a possessive bint, i'n't she? Not even Celeborn's allowed to touch her precious ring. Like, she even has people to wash her hair for her so she doesn't have to put up with those tangles, y'know?" drabbled Legolas, slowly inching away from the fuming Elrond. Who was doing the whole smouldering volcano expression complete with steam and smoke effects.
"But what about the third Elven ring?" asked Pippin curiously. "There were three of them, weren't there? Which Elf had the third ring?"
"No Elf, mate," said Legolas, pointing at Gandalf, "it's your grey friend over there that's got the third ring." Gandalf attempted to frown at the Elf while simultaneously trying to look inconspicuous. The overall effect was one of constipation and too-tight underwear.
"But Gandalf!" exclaimed Frodo. "You never mentioned anything about having a ring of your own. Did Bilbo know?" he asked accusingly.
Before Gandalf could reply Sam joined in, "That can't be true, can it Gandalf? Why, there's no ring on any of your fingers now is there?"
("And why would Sam have noticed a thing like that?!" exclaimed Pippin in the quietest whisper possible and looked to Merry for explanation.)
("Buggered if I know," whispered Merry. "Maybe he's got a thing for Wizards?" At this they both shuddered.)
"Oh, but he doesn't wear it on his hand. Do you, mate?" said the Elf to the Wizard with a knowing look and a bit of a nudge.
"So, do you wear it around your neck like me then?" asked Frodo blinkingly.
"Ahh, well, that is to say, not quite, young Frodo –" began Gandalf but he was interrupted by Sam's observation.
"Well, where else would you wear a ring then? You may be a Wizard an' all but surely you'd have to wear the ring like everyone else?" Sam looked to Legolas for guidance but the Elf was too busy snickering off to the side and Elrond's eyebrows were getting closer and closer together and even more steeply sloped.
Thinking it was perhaps time to change the subject of conversation before Elrond's face folded in half, Gandalf cleared his throat and 'harrumff'-ed to get everyone's attention. Then he waved his staff around because the throat thing hadn't worked. The staff-waving did work but only because he managed to ding most everybody behind an ear or on a forehead. Happy that he was the centre of attention again, he spoke.
"Perhaps we should be discussing the reason we are all here instead of bickering", a glance at the Dwarf, "and gossiping', this to the Elf, "like children. Hmmm?"
"You may be right Gandalf." condescended he of the freaky eyebrows, but at least some of the slope was relaxing away, letting Legolas breathe a bit easier. Although he did still snicker from time to time, whenever his gaze landed upon Gandalf.
Now that there was a modicum of silence Elrond took centre stage. That is to say he shuffled a bit and glared until he felt that people were giving him the respect he thought he would deserve had he actually been able to take centre stage as opposed to standing really close to a bunch of people who had mainly spent the last few days or weeks travelling and now had their elbows aimed at each other's throats, and knees at each other's groins. Towering above all, except those that were taller than him (i.e. the Wizard, the Man and the other Elf, leaving only the Dwarf and the halflings to be towered over), Elrond launched into important-lecturing-type-speech mode.
"We are here because the ring must be destroyed, and as such, we all wanted to have a good look and a bit of a touch before it gets tossed away. " There were some nods of ascent, but more bored looks, at this. They all already knew the purpose of the little tete-a-tete, that's why'd they'd been tussling. But they all stayed silent, no one was brave enough to interrupt his mightiness oh-the-great-curtain-wearing one for fear that he might start his speech from the beginning again. "Only the most worthy have been gathered here, the finest of your species, and in some cases, the only representatives who were available at such short notice – damn the lack of efficient mass transport in this backward age – however," here he paused to do that gumby Elf breath/pause thing that they do, "as not all were (pause) invited, this must remain (pause) a (pause) secret council. On no account must (pause) you reveal this gathering or (pause) any communications exch- (pause) –anged therein to beings that were (pause) not present." Dramatic narrowing of the eyebrows.
"You mean Boromir." said Merry.
"Yes. Boromir." said Elrond.
"Who's Boromir? said Frodo.
"The man." said Sam.
"Is that another one of Strider's names?" asked Frodo the wonder hobbit.
"No, Master Frodo, Strider's names are Ara-"
"Nah, Boromir's that tasty looking guy in the red dress who arrived ages ago 'cos of some dream or something." interrupted the Elf before Sam could rattle off the exhaustive list of Aragorn's nomenclature.
"What do mean 'tasty'?" aforesaid over named man asked tetchily. "I thought I was man enough for you?"
Legolas just rolled his eyes.
"Ahem." This time it was the Dwarf doing the throat-clearing. "Movin' right along."
"Quite," agreed Elrond, "so, pull it out Frodo – and I mean the ring – so we can all have a good look at it without Boromir."
"But why?" asked Merry.
"Why what?" asked Elrond, exasperated.
"Why without Boromir?" asked Merry.
"Because." said Elrond.
"Because what?" asked Pippin this time.
Stumped, Elrond looked beseechingly at Gandalf who went back to doing that unsuccessful frown/inconspicuous combination look thing. It didn't work. Again.
"To, ahh, strengthen relations between members of the fellowship and reinforce such bonds with in-group out-group behavioural patterns?" suggested Gandalf not all that confidently.
"What fellowship?" asked Frodo who'd stopped rolling his eyes while fingering the ring long enough to speak coherently.
"Ahh, Elrond?" Gandalf queried.
"The, yes, the fellowship that you are all going to form to, uhhh, escort Frodo –"
"And the ring!" interjected Sam.
"Yes, and the ring," resumed Elrond, "to the fiery chasm from whence it came. Hey, that's a trendy line. I better write that one down.
"Since it is my secret council that I called secretly," he continued, "I decide in which order we get to secretly examine the ring and I say descending order of age - from oldest to youngest. I'm the eldest that makes me first so hand it over Frodo my boy!" Elrond thrust out his hand imperiously.
"Unh," said Frodo, rolling his eyes.
"Sam! Stop performing inappropriate oral-based sexual practices upon Frodo this instant!" demanded
the (ugly) Elf.
("Performing what?" questioned Pippin in a hushed whisper.)
("A. Blow. Job." mouthed Merry back.)
"But I'm not!" protested Sam.
"He's doing it himself!" exclaimed Pippin. Aragorn glanced over, looking curious.
"Frodo's giving himself a blowjob?" queried the (pretty) Elf, an elegant eyebrow raised.
"No," blushed Pippin, embarrassed (for being a dick, not for discussing oral sex). "I meant, Frodo's moaning and sighing on his own. No one's doing anything to him," clarified the young hobbit.
"It's the ring!" yelled Sam, leaping forward with his hands outstretched ready to wrench the ring away from his precious master.
("Oh God. He thinks everything is the ring." complained Pippin hushedly.)
("Don't I know it. Frodo farts - it's the ring! A cloud covers the sun - it's the ring! The sausages get burnt -it's the ring! The Elf and Aragorn go at it too loudly one night - it's the ring! We forbid him and Frodo from using perfectly edible carrots as sex toys - it's the ring! Frodo makes pathetic whiny noises -it's the ring!")
("But that is the ring, isn't it?")
("Nah, it's Frodo being a drama queen is what it is.")
Frodo was, as it turns out, stroking the ring in rhythm to his breaths, the moans were thrown in at irregular intervals and the eye-rolling was making Merry, the mighty river-fording hobbit, feel seasick.
"Oh for goodness' sake," muttered Gandalf, grabbing Elrond's hand. The Wizard yanked up the absurd flowey, drapey sleeve and, equally abruptly, pulled the shiny-glittery ring off of Elrond's finger. He then stormed over to melodramatic!Frodo and substituted one ring for the other. All before Frodo had time gasp ridiculously. "There," he said, shoving the one ring in Elrond's face (and nearly up his nose), "happy now?". Elrond was lost for words.
"It's... it's..." This, however, did not actually stop him from trying to say something. Well, you know Elves, damn things never shut up - blather blather blather all damn day. And when they're not babbling on they're reciting awful poetry or, even worse, singing awful poetry. The prats.
"Yes yes," muttered Gandalf, "it's impressive, all-powerful, supreme, omnipotent -"
"Shiny..." breathed Elrond breathily. Gandalf raised his eyebrows.
"It's been called many things, my dear fellow, but -" An elbow in the lower abdomen, eye-wateringly close to a very delicate area, interrupted his flow of words. Mainly by knocking the breath out of him.
"Aren't you supposed to say that to me?" asked Frodo, who had come out of his ring-of-power induced orgy-for-one quickly enough when he thought he was losing valuable screen-time. This is, in fact, a surprisingly unremarked yet remarkable talent possessed certainly by Frodo and perhaps by hobbit ringbearers the world over. Consider this - even when apparently unconscious, this hobbit ring bearer has the power to gasp and moan dramatically whenever his presence has been ignored for more than 2 seconds or if it looks like someone is about to have a moment more dramatic than his. Incredible, really.
"Actually, I think he's supposed to say it to Bilbo," said Merry.
"Are you sure?" questioned Frodo, frowning slightly and looking as if he wanted to give the appearance of deep and meaningful thought without actually having to go to the effort to think deeply and meaningfully.
"Of course I'm sure," said Merry mildly affronted. But only mildly since he was used to Frodo being something of a brainless, incompetent moron.
"You should listen to him, y'know," added Legolas, "he is the only one out of all you hobbits who actually possesses a brain, y'know." The hobbits nodded in agreement, it was true after all. Well, all the hobbits except Frodo who had stopped paying attention to others and slipped back in to his poor pale put-upon persona again and was sighing in an all-suffering way.
Aragorn nodded in agreement in the background. He did this without actually changing his facial expression from 'deep dark mysterious man-who-might-soon-be-king brooding deep dark mysterious soon-to-be-king thoughts that you-who-are-a-mere-heir-to-the-stewardship-would-know-nothing-about-seeing-as-how-you're-only-a-mere-heir-to-the-stewardship-and-not-a-possibly-soon-to-be-king-deep-dark-mysterious-type-guy. So there. With knobs on. Which was pretty good for just a nod, really, when you think about it.
After this mild distraction everyone turned back to Elron' of the silent 'd' who was still standing staring at the ring. Enraptured.
"Ahem." Gandalf cleared his throat.
"Ahem," he tried again.
"AH-" he started. But was interrupted by a forest of red pubic hair at just above belly-button height. It spoke. It was the dwarf.
"Perhaps you'll let me try this my way, master Wizard," it rumbled.
"Of course." Gandalf stepped aside.
By-passing all of the Wizard's subtle approaches, Gimli proceeded in the traditional, straightforward, Dwarvish way.
He thwacked Elrond in the back of the knees with the haft of his battleaxe.
The Elf toppled. And the ring went flying.
All eyes followed it's graceful arc straight into Gandalf's hand. Then, everyone (except Gandalf) looked down to the horizontal Elf. And sniggered.
Apparently, they'd all been around Legolas a bit too long.
There is no real way to describe the thoughts that pass through someone's head. It is even trickier with an Elf's head since they are, more often than not, quite empty and so the few thoughts that make it through all that hair on the outside tend to bounce around and echo. Try putting three five year olds in a big, empty enclosed space, then step outside. You'd swear there's nine hundred of the little buggers. And this was an Elf's head with a ring of power. The ring of power. It went a little something like this…
Ooooh, shiny… ooooh ring… ahhhhh… shhhhiiiiiiiiny… precious ring… prrrrrrreeeeeehh-shuss… ooooh… shiny… ooooh ring… ahhhhh… shhhhiiiiiiiiny… I wonder how my hair's looking… ooooooohhh shhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiny….
…and so on.
Not surprising, really, that with two powerful rings between them the Elves had not been able to destroy a great enemy, rule all middle-earth, find decent tailors or master the simple art of hair cutting. Eh.
However, the Elf in question was now more concerned with the state of his nose than precious shiny rings. It was his nose that had taken most of the impact when he'd face-planted on to his dusty, leafy floor. Courtesy of the Dwarf, damn his steel-wool encrusted head. Elrond sneezed. The ache reminded him again that his injured nose was of paramount concern, it didn't seem to be bleeding, he hoped it wasn't broken. Or puffy. Or red in an unbecoming manner. He hoped his hair was okay. That Dwarf was going to pay… like for any and all associated dry-cleaning bills. These robes were very, very expensive.
That Dwarf, having stopped sniggering over the Elf on the ground, was now shuffling impatiently and glaring at the Wizard. Along with everyone else. Except for Frodo who was counting the seconds since attention had been taken away from him and getting ready to either sigh melodramatically or start hyperventilating. And Elrond, who was slowly picking himself up off the ground and picking bits of crushed leaves out of his hair, embroidered curtain robes, mouth, eyebrows and between his teeth.
("Hah! Serves the stupid prat right!" proclaimed Pippin in a self-righteous whisper to Merry, pointing at the recovering Elf.)
("Snhhn hhn hhn," sniggered Merry hushedly, in complete agreement.)
Legolas had caught on to the little hobbitses' covert whisperings and had overheard this exchange and tapped Merry, who was closest to him, on the shoulder and mimed kicking the elder Elf in the arse to send him sprawling back into the leafy, dusty floor. This sent the two hobbitses into paroxysms of suppressed giggles. Pippin so much so that he doubled over and began sliding towards ground. Merry would've tried to rescue him from the dust and leaves only he had his eyes closed tightly and was trying to remember how to breathe in while laughing out, making him a bit preoccupied to actually notice what his cousin was doing. Legolas just thought the whole thing kept on getting funnier and funnier and was practically incontinent due to laughter.
Aragorn was watching the whole scene between Merry, Pippin and his sometime lover, with his impassive mask on. This time it seemed to be saying 'I would laugh if I was that juvenile, however, I haven't ever been that juvenile seeing as how I was actually born with a brain' which was quite a mouthful for a face to be saying. But even Mr Stoic himself couldn't refrain from giggling when Elrond began experiencing severe difficulty in the getting-up department. This was mainly due to the fact that a booted foot was standing on the hem of the Elf's curtain-robe. The boot just happened to house the sturdy foot of an innocent-looking Dwarf. A Dwarf who looked so innocent his eyes were firmly looking skywards and he was whistling an innocent little tune that, had it had words, would have gone something like 'I'm a little innocent tune, ho hum, couldn't get anymore innocent if you tried, la di dah, how sweet and innocent am I…' etc, etc. It was innocence you could've bounced rocks off and was just too much for the Ranger.
Sam and Frodo were mostly oblivious to all of this as what wasn't going over their heads (literally) was being ignored. Mostly because Frodo was running through his repertoire of dramatic gestures and breathing techniques and Sam was playing the captive audience to Frodo's dramatic gestures and breathing techniques. Quite secretly he was hoping that Mr Frodo would stop breathing or go into cardiac arrest so he, Samwise Gamgee, would be able to perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on dear Mr Frodo.
The Wizard, upon whom all (well, most- actually, only some) attention had been industrially riveted upon until they'd found better things to look at, was gazing beatifically at the shiny gold ring cupped in his palm. Being a Wizard, Gandalf had considerably more intelligence than any Elf and, despite his equally impressive amount of hair, had many more thoughts buzzing around inside his head. However, it should be said that just because there were more thoughts inside Gandalf's head it did not necessarily follow that they were in anyway better than the thoughts in Elrond's head. What the wizard's intelligence did mean, however, was that his thoughts were more coherent than the Elf's, and looked something like this…
Ah hah! I have the shiny ring now! All I have to do is slip it on and let that overrated git of a Sauron sniff me out, his minions should take me right to him then its poke in that big eye of
his and while he's still smarting from that out with the lemon juice! Better yet, carbolic acid! That should fix him once and for all! Then I can move on to my real foe! I shall trip merrily along to Saruman's phallic symbol of a tower and wave the shiny ring under his nose saying
Look who's got the pretty ring now you double-crossing, white-robed bastard! Hah! That'll teach him! Thinking he can wrest the best all-round fireworks championship heavyweight title
from me, does he! This'll show him! Whomsoever has the ring has the power! And I have the ring! And the much more splendid facial hair! And Wizard's staff! And dress sense! And architectural accomplishment! And…
…and so on and so on and so on. Perhaps it isn't any more coherent than Elron' in the end. Oh well.
The other members of the secret secret meeting were not, alas, able to see inside the Wizard's head. All they were able to see was the beatific smile on Gandalf's face with a string of drool leaking out if the corner and puddling on his robes. This was combined with eyes that were wide open and unblinking. It was quite an articulate look. It said 'I'm mentally deranged. Please escort me to a room with padded wallpaper and an infinite supply of little blue pills'. Which was exactly what was going to happen to the Wizard had Legolas not gotten impatient and said "Alright, enough's enough. It's my turn now, hand it over." Unfortunately this had the same effect on Gimli as feeding the cat's food to the dog in full view of the hungry cat. That is, it made him very, very angry.
"I believe, master Elf, that is my turn with the ring,' the Dwarf snarled, hackles and axe up and pointing at the Elf.
"Oi, no need to get violent, mate," Legolas waved his hand in the direction of the Dwarf's upraised axe.
"But it is my turn, no offence. I'm the next in line, seeing as how I'm the next eldest and all, y'know."
"Oh, but I beg to differ master Elf. I believe I am the next eldest. Making me the next in line. You'll have to wait your turn with all the rest of the youngsters," Gimli smiled at the last bit. It wasn't often he got to pull rank on an Elf.
"Just who exactly are you calling a 'youngster', you infant," He paused to look down his nose at the Dwarf and added, "you short infant." And tossed his hair. It wasn't the most witty of comebacks, but he was dealing with a Dwarf, so it didn't need to be. It was enough to make the Dwarf fume.
"Now that, laddie, was hitting below the belt!" Gimli growled, his whole body in pre-attack stance.
However, it was too good a line to ignore in the Elf's eyes, no matter how threatening the Dwarf looked and how much he frowned. And bristled "Below the belt? I'd have to get down on my knees before I could even reach your belt, Dwarf." There was no glossing over the sneer in the Elf's voice now. It was rush-hour at bitch-central and all claws were out.
Merry and Pippin had been enjoying the exchange between the Elf and the Dwarf since they had discovered that even after what was only a short acquaintance with the two species that any interaction between them was bound to provide fine entertainment - if not bloodshed. Especially in a place as unexciting as Rivendell. Those people had a serious lack in the social life department. They got excited over the colour of the leaves, for crying out loud.
Aragorn had actually been lost in a deep-dark-mysterious-type-guy brood over nothing much in particular but had been jolted out of it and into alertness when a certain blonde had mentioned getting down on his knees. The flood of mental images - some springing from memory and others from fantasy - made his blood surge. Once he got himself up to speed on the circumstances that the phrase had been uttered in, ie. not connected to getting naked anytime soon in anyway at all, he resumed his deep-dark-mysterious brooding. You could tell because his eyes glazed over and his jaw went slack. That expression positively guaranteed he was brooding, or that Elron' was pontificating. Had the soon-to-be-king been drooling then you could have been certain he was thinking about lover-boy and his knees.
Gimli had finally stopped rumbling over Legolas' belt comment and was gearing himself up for a comeback but logic overwhelmed him and instead he asked "So, how old are you then, Elf-boy?"
Legolas huffed before replying, "I'm not telling".
"Why is that? Don't want to admit to how young you really are, eh?"
"Nothing of the sort. It just isn't done in polite society you inbred, undergrown oaf." Legolas seemed to be touchy on the subject.
"Ah hah!," exclaimed the Dwarf, thinking triumph was within snatching distance. "Something you don't want to admit to, hey Elf?"
"No-oo," the Elf seemed a tad uncertain, 'it's just that whatever age I admit to being you'll just say you're older. So there. How old are you, Dwarf?"
"I'm on to your game, Elf. You'll not get an answer out of me."
At this point the frantic whisperings between Merry and Pippin ceased. They were replaced with the scribblings of Pippin signing an IOU. He'd bet the Elf was older than the Dwarf whereas Merry had put his money on there being a stalemate. Being a more observant student of human, Elf and Dwarf nature he had thought it unlikely that Gimli and Legolas could resolve any dispute between them even if armed with actual physical evidence. So, now Merry owed him a full pint the next time they passed Butterbur's establishment. Heh heh heh. A whole pint! Things were looking good!
By now, Gimli had taken his foot off of Elrond's robes in order to step threateningly towards the other Elf, this enabled the ancient Elf to finally stand up. He huffed when he saw the state his robes were in. They'd definitely have to go the dry-cleaners and he'd be buggered if he was going to pay for it. The bill was going directly that little shortarse with hair like a toilet brush! Speaking of which… the little shortarse appeared about ready to spill blood all over his trendy (if unswept) floors. It was time to intervene, he decided.
"That is more than enough! The pair of you! Fighting like children! I expect much more mature behaviour from the both of you! Now, what is the issue under debate?" Like most interrupting adults Elron' had absolutely no idea about the situation he was sticking his nose into. This, of course, reduced both Elf and Dwarf to the level of snot-nosed five year olds.
"He started it!" They both exclaimed, each pointing at the other. A chorus of "Did not!", "Did too!", "Did not!" subsequently followed. Then they both attempted to explain their version of events over the top of the other one's voice in ever increasing volume.
All that racket was still not enough to stir Aragorn from his meaningful brood, as it involved no mention body parts. The topic of his lover's age was of no interest to the soon-to-be-king because he'd already established that the Elf was over the age of consent. Not that that sort of thing bothered the Elves as a race all that much. Arwen had, after all, started hitting on him when he was only twelve. And he hadn't even been a very developed twelve at that! He'd still been short and scrawny and, well, small. And to be honest, the only real change the last seventy years has brought about was that he was taller, and that wasn't much when compared to the lofty heights the Elves reached. Meeting up with blokes like Boromir only reinforced the fact that in terms of shoulder-widths he was nothing to write home about. And that while he, Aragorn, could wield a sword - guys like Boromir could not only wield bigger, heavier swords but also big-arse shields at the same time. Well, he had only seen Boromir carrying his sword and shield and not wielding them per se but he had checked out those shoulders and arms and… shoulders. And didn't he half feel inadequate. Good thing he hadn't seen any more of Boromir's body… On the other had, maybe it was all padding. Maybe what he needed was a peek under that ornate tunic to see if he really did have anything to feel embarrassed about. Well, as soon as this secret secret meeting was all over he knew where he'd be heading. He should probably ask Legolas if he wanted to come along as well, the Elf was much better at worming his way into unsuspecting soul's bedchambers, and Aragorn should know .
Aragorn hadn't been the only one oblivious to the debacle betwixt Elf and Dwarf. Sam and Frodo had also been blissfully unaware of the heated exchange. Well, of that heated exchange. They were quite aware of their own heated exchange. Mainly because the sparks it was causing were threatening to set the piles of dead leaves alight.
"There now, Mr Frodo, " said Sam, stroking his master's arm and looking meaningfully into the other hobbit's eyes. His big blue eyes. Big blue eyes that he could get lost in. Eyes of such blueness that Sam was reminded of other objects of supreme blueness like the sky, and bluebells, and the sky. Sam sighed. But meaningfully and in Frodo's direction.
"Oh, Sam," simpered Frodo, "whatever would I do without you?" The unspoken answer was 'Find someone else to be you personal one-man audience and gopher and preparer of cooked breakfasts.' But Sam was not that sort of hobbit (otherwise he wouldn't be puppy- doggying someone as lame as Frodo around) and so all he said was "Oh, Mr Frodo."
By this point, Elron' had reached the end of his tether, his goat had been got, his fuse was well and truly lit, his mind was ablaze and other quaint euphemisms to describe how well and truly pissed he was. He didn't so much as have a face of thunder so much as he had a face that looked like it was one tremor off a serious disturbance of the fault lines. As incensed as a Greek orthodox church at Easter, the absolutely livid Elf shoved his way between the arguing Elf and Dwarf, billowing robes and knotty hair flying. He snatched the staff from the gibbering, dribbling Wizard and aimed it threateningly at the Dwarf. "OK! That is enough! This childish bickering is to end at once! You, Greenleaf!" Here the staff swung around to point at the stunned blonde. "You're next with the ring! You, Dwarf!" and the staff swung back to the Dwarf like a compass needle, "You go after him! Alright? Everyone satisfied?" Elron' thumped the staff on the ground, the pointy tip actually got embedded in the floor with the force.
Stunned into voicelessness, Gimli and Legolas nodded meekly. Neither were really in the market to see Elron's face turn that shade of purple ever again. It did clash so horribly with his dress, robes, things. And his hair.
Merry and Pippin were a tad put out at the abrupt end of the performance, they'd had a bet running to see how long it would be before the arguing had roused the ranger. Pippin also hadn't been able to finish his new game of count-the-sticky-outy-veins- on -Elron's-neck. He'd only got up to seventeen. Disappointed, the two young hobbitses agreed to declare interference and the bet was suspended.
Aragorn, with eyes still glazed, didn't seem to have noticed anything much at all. Which, quite frankly, wasn't anything new. At least he hadn't dribbled like Gandalf, though. The not-quite-perhaps-possibly-maybe-if-he-ever-gets-his-act-together-king only had a single cobweb-thin strand hanging off his chin. Which is why, boys and girls, it's unwise to spend much time thinking about Elves.
Comfortable in his supreme commander of the universe role once more, Elron' relieved Gandalf of the burdensome ring and handed it over to Legolas. The Wizard trickled back into awareness and asked quite happily if he'd been 'gone long' while trying to disguise the waterfall of saliva down his front. He gave Elron' something of a stern look when he realised someone had been mucking about with his very important wizarding staff.
When it had been established that Gandalf was the same, benign loony he'd been to begin with and that the ring of power had not actually caused any ill effects whatsoever, the secret secret council members' heads turned in unison to stare at Legolas. What they saw gave them a shock.
The Elf was standing with the ring on his finger, turning his hand this way and that, glancing at it from different angles. He gave a considering hum then looked up in to the startled faces surrounding him. "What?" He slipped the ring off and gave it to the Dwarf. "Gold just isn't my colour, y'know. It doesn't go at all with my hair. I've always thought platinum suited me better, y'know. And it's much more exotic," this he said with a well-known toss of said hair (patent pending).
The hobbitses who had been paying attention nodded as if this explained everything and was perfectly sensible (which it was) and went back to whatever it was they'd been doing. Elron' and Gandalf , however, were still gobsmacked. You could tell because they really did look as if someone had hauled back and let fly with a good one right across their respective kissers. Neither could believe that the juvenile Elf had not only touched the ring but had actually put it on… and hadn't been corrupted. At all. Whatsoever. They exchanged bewildered looks, and shrugged in unison. Both seemed inclined to put such a bizarre event down to Legolas' mind-melting shallowness. Apparently, not even Sauron could overwhelm a mind so focussed on it's body's good looks and sense of style. And they were right.
Aragorn agreed that the ring didn't suit his lover. He didn't think that anything suited his lover. His lover should just be bare-arsed naked all the time, the better for him to appreciate said bare arse. Well, perhaps on consideration, some sticky chocolate sauce just might suit his lover - but only if it was strategically trickled on all the right places… and in all the right places… And the ranger's eyes glazed over again with drool on stand-by.
While all of this was going on, the Dwarf had had the ring. Unlike Legolas, however, Gimli was content just to hold the ring in his hand. And hold it he did, he had his hand cupped and was cradling the ring as if it was some strange, rare, precious, powerful ,compelling, extraordinary thing. Which, come to think of it, it was.
Disgruntled that he was now no longer the centre of attention, Legolas peered intently at Gimli to make sure the little cave-dweller didn't try to one-up him in the award-winning performance stakes. You couldn't trust the little buggers any further than you could toss one them. Legolas knew, he'd tried, and measured it to the nearest inch.
But all Gimli did was stand there with an intense look on his face, as if he was trying to add up numbers in his head without using his fingers.
Curious (which was something of a cliché, really), Pippin got closer. He reached up and waved a hand in front of the Dwarf's eyes. Nothing. He shrugged and went back to calculating odds with Merry.
Just when Elron' thought that the little dry-cleaning-bill-paying sod had taken up enough of his time and he had moved forward to take the ring, Gimli came to. That is, he appeared to move forward without actually moving, and his eyes did a slow blink before refocusing on the assorted bunch in front of him. Said assorted bunch all leaned in to get a better look at what was about to happen. Breaths held, necks craned, anticipation tingling and zinging down to their toes and back up again they waited and then -
He sniffed. Gimli brought up his arm to wipe his nose on the aged stainless-steel-with-riveted-leather motif sleeve, handed the ring over to Elron' and blinked back tears.
Everyone looked at him as if he was the queerest thing upon the face, or in the bowels , of the earth.
"What?" he demanded gruffly. His captivated audience all shook their heads with mute determination to pretend nothing at all was out of the ordinary, oh no, every little thing was abso-perfectly-lutely a-ok, indeedy, totally, completely, whatever you say mister dwarf. Everyday we see a Dwarf hold a ring of power and burst in to tears like a sodding great baby, happens all the time…
Pippin gave Merry a nudge in the ribs with his elbow.
("Do you think Legolas broke it? Or maybe Gandalf?" he whispered.)
("What?")
("You know, the ring.")
("Could be, wouldn't put it past Sauron to have made a shoddy ring.")
Aragorn chose that moment to rouse from his chocolate sauce induced fantasy-for-one and wondered why the hell everyone else was staring at Gimli as if he'd just grown another head and a bright pink tutu. Maybe he'd just admitted to wearing women's underwear, but that was old news, Aragorn thought. Surely Gandalf couldn't have been surprised by it, he was the one who'd spilled it to Aragorn in the first place. He'd have to remember to ask Merry and Pippin when this was all over, they always seem to have a good idea what was going on around the place - probably came from all that listening at keyholes they did.
There was a brief space of embarrassed looks and throat clearing while everyone tried to put the image of the upset Dwarf out of their collective minds. Gandalf was the first to recover his equilibrium and said in his most reasonable voice, "It's Aragorn's turn next, isn't it?" Legolas' pointy ears perked up. He wanted to have front row seats for this. He sensed the potential for exquisite blackmail material on the ranger. He'd never be able to forgive himself if he didn't take advantage of the situation. And so he sidled closer, slipping a bit on some of the damn omnipresent leaves.
Aragorn's ears had perked up, too, at the sound of (one of his many) names and he relinquished the thoughts about what exactly little hobbits could see, as well as hear, through keyholes for later perusal. And tried as inconspicuously as possible to wipe the drool from his chin.
In one of those supreme acts of self-control, Aragorn's expression did not betray even the slightest hint of what he was feeling. Elron' took this to be a sign of his stalwart nature and congratulated himself again on having roped the boy into being affianced to his daughter. Although, if the boy couldn't get visibly excited about the greatest ring of power the age had seen he didn't hold out much hope for his daughter's wedding night… What Elron' didn't know was that the ranger's face was stiff from maintaining his manly deep-dark-mysterious-brooding expression for the entirety of the so-called secret secret council.
Gandalf thought that Aragorn's stern manner possibly stemmed from his warrior like nature. The whole 'no fear in the face of battle' type stuff. The Wizard congratulated himself on having chosen such a fine guard for the caravan of hobbits and their trek from The Prancing Pony all the way to Rivendell. He wasn't privy to the ranger's stiff muscles, either.
Neither Merry or Pippin could really make out Aragorn's expression. As with most Big People whom were standing close by, all they could see of his face was the jut of a chin crowned by a pair of nostrils, and in this instance, framed by some dark, lank hair. Pippin supposed that if he'd been hard pressed he could've said that the nostrils were some of the of the most stoic he'd ever had the pleasure to look up into. Merry was divided on that point. He'd thought that Boromir's nostrils had seemed more stoic, that most of what he'd seen of Boromir had seemed stoic, quite stoic in fact… Sometimes it paid off to peer through keyholes, it really did.
Sam and Frodo, however, were still too preoccupied with meaningful eye contact to have noticed anything. At all. Frodo was using Elron's ring as a substitute and was busy fingering it in suggestive ways. This was having the desired effect upon Sam who was alternately captivated by the motions of the finger and the ring and jealous of some crude, hammered out piece of metal trash that had no business being so close and intimate with Mr Frodo's delicate, pale, petal-soft skin. Such a reaction from his audience just drove Frodo to new melodramatic heights. If he fluttered his eyelashes any more he was in danger of doing himself an injury…
Gimli was feeling quite embarrassed about the whole thing and was studiously avoiding looking at anyone by engaging in some in0deth, highly-focused observation of his boots. Otherwise he, too, probably would have thought something terribly sappy and brainwashy like 'Wasn't Aragorn so brave for being the first proper mortal to get so close to the ring without being tempted blah blah blah".
Except that Aragorn wasn't exactly a proper mortal, he was about as far away from being a normal man as it was possible to be while still having non-pointy ears and being roughly human-shaped. Not that mortality seemed to have much to do with being tempted by the ring - Elron' and Gandalf were easily seducible by it's whisperings and promises whereas not a single man in all of The Prancing Pony had even so much as caught a whiff of it (which was a pity, really, since most of the fellows had been independently mobile, having their own horses and the like, and were all presumably capable of enduring a fortnight's or so journey to Mordor to hand the ring back to the disembodied guy who'd made it, would have saved a lot of trouble, really ). And it couldn't be attracted to power alone, otherwise it made no sense as to why Frodo found it so burdensome…
Aragorn was thinking similar thoughts behind his mask of cramped facial muscles. He'd never understood what was so important about the ring. So it was trying to get back to it's master - that made it sound like an obedient dog. Quite frankly, he couldn't see what was so important about that, the so-called master was a giant eye. How the hell could a giant eye wield a ring? By using it as a rather bizarre monocle? Besides, he had better things to, namely dragging his Elf-lover-boy over to bad-boy Boromir's bedroom and seeing just what shape of man was hidden by that dressy, gold-filigreed tunic. And whether certain Gondorian heirs-to-stewardships had a fondness for bittersweet chocolate sauce when licked off sweet, sweet Elf-arse. Thoughts like that made bits other than his face stiff.
Elron' handed over the ring to Aragorn, still admiring the ranger's composure, with Legolas practically under his feet in order to get a good look at any and all reactions. Unfortunately, this was somewhat distracting for the ranger, having so recently being enjoying lascivious thoughts about the very close Elf. The very, very close Elf. So close, in fact, that Aragorn was positive he could smell the individual strands of Legolas' hair. His brain was barely maintaining any vital processes above his waist, it was hardly capable of registering the weight of the ring in his hand when Elron' passed it over.
It could have possibly gone down in history as the most anti-climatic ring-of-power sequence ever.
Even more anti-climatic than Gimli's nose wiping.
Aragorn just stood there. Grunted once. And handed it back.
His eyes didn't even change their depth of focus. Nary a flicker of expression flickered anywhere.
Legolas pouted. But in a pretty way so that anyone paying proper attention would see he could be cajoled out of it, and without doing anything so low as to make his pretty Elven face look unpleasant.
Elron' and Gandalf were annoyed and pleased in equal measure. Pleased because this meant there'd be at least one trustworthy person in the fellowship who could deal with the ring. And annoyed because the Man hadn't succumbed to the same depths of idiocy that they had. Fair is fair, though - Aragorn wasn't as much of an idiot as they were.
Merry and Pippin were not at all downcast, they hadn't been expecting anything that could possibly compare to the outburst between Legolas and Gimli for entertainment value. Still, it may have been just the teensiest bit more exciting if Aragorn had suddenly, y'know, burst into flames or collapsed onto his knees, clutching at his head screaming 'I can't take it, I can't take it anymore!' Or even if some mysterious goo had spurted forth from somewhere (although both hobbitses were not to know how close that had been to actually happening, which was a bit odd considering their proximity to the ranger's groin, they must have been occupied with the whole nostril-gazing thing).
("You're right," whispered Merry to Pippin, "it must be broken!")
And Frodo and Sam's reaction? Well, they'd been a bit preoccupied. I'll give you three guesses as to what they were preoccupied with… At least there were no handy carrots around the place.
Some of the whispers between Merry and Pippin may have reached Elron's ears, if only subliminally, as he was holding the one ring up to the light and shaking it a bit. Unless he was just trying to hide his embarrassment. Gandalf was also fiddling as displacement activity, only he was twirling the end of his beard around.
Elron' lowered the ring and cleared his throat, "Well, that concludes this secret secret council. Time now for you to have the ring back, Frodo."
"Wait! What about us? Don't we get a turn with it?" cried Pippin dismayed. But not as dismayed as Elron' who couldn't bear to think about being upstaged by something only four feet high.
"Uhh, that is, I think, judging by Frodo's reaction to the ring it would be… unwise to trouble any other hobbits with such a burden. Isn't that right, Gandalf?" Elron' turned to the Wizard for support. Again.
"Oh, quite right. Quite right, indeed." At this the Wizard was besieged by the visages of two pouting hobbitses. He stooped down and ruffled Pippin's curly hair with a ringless, gnarled hand and said,
"Maybe next time? Hmmm?"
(Puzzled, Pippin turned to Merry and whispered, "Next time? What the hell does the daft old loony mean by a next time? Are there other one rings of power that he's not telling us about or something?')
(Merry was equally clueless and could only shrug.)
Noticing the complete lack of reaction his statement received from the supposed ringbearer, Elron' waved the ring under Frodo' nose until the brainless hobbit finally realised his attention was wanted. With a supreme effort he tore his gaze away from meaningful eye-contact with Sam and looked up into Elron's flaring nostrils.
"Here, Frodo. Time to switch rings." And with that, Frodo was once again in possession of the one ring. He sighed dramatically casing Sam to clasp both of his hands, look deeply into his eyes and asked in his most concerned tone of voice if he was 'alright, Mr Frodo?'. "Oh, Sam," was all that Frodo could manage.
Sensing that the time for entertainment had passed, Merry and Pippin had started to make their way out, if they weren't going to be allowed to play with the ring like everyone else then they were going to find interesting keyholes to listen at and peer through. The young hobbitses were followed by the boot-scuffing Dwarf when Elron's voice rang out.
"Gimli? A word if you will." Merry and Pippin sniggered.
Aragorn had managed to convey to Legolas that they should leave together and so the lovers headed on out as well.
Gandalf practically tripped over the stationary Frodo-and-Sam-still-life-tableaux. "Time to move on, you two," he suggested and began herding them out of the chamber. The trio were close enough to hear Legolas' clear voice exclaim, "You, me, him and the chocolate sauce! Why Aragorn, I never knew you had in it you!"
However, Merry and Pippin had overheard the Elf as well. Now they knew exactly which keyhole to look through that evening.
THE END