Thanks for the encouragement from reviewers Dis Thrainsdotter, fattybolger, LilyBaggins, and Starlit Hope. I'm glad you folks liked the first chapter, and I hope you like the second.
By the way, I'm changing Gimli's home to Moria. (This story is set years and years after the RotK, so we can assume that the orcs are gone.) I haven't gone back and changed Chapter 1 yet, but I will.
Vocabulary:
Oropherion—means "son of Oropher." Oropher is Thranduil's father and Legolas's grandfather. He died in a battle during the Last Alliance.
Elf Eye for the Dwarf Guy
Chapter 2
When the Fabulous Fellowship of the Five arrived at the entrance to Moria, they were dismayed at what they found. The Fab Five had had to clamber over dead trees and tumbled stones and through slimy mud to get there, only to be confronted by a pool of stagnant, scum-covered water that extended almost to the door. The only living vegetation in sight were the two old trees that flanked the entry.
"You know," observed Celeborn, "I think we need to add another member to our team. This Dwarf doesn't just need an interior designer; he needs a landscaper, too!"
"Yeah," agreed Haldir, "a landscaper who is really good with water gardens—this place needs fountains, lots of fountains, and footbridges, water lilies, water hyacinths—"
"He also should be good with grottoes," interrupted Thranduil. "The tumbled stones around here really have potential. Arranged artfully, they could lend themselves to an exotic, antiquated look."
"O.k! o.k!" Elrond replied impatiently, "I'll send a memo to the producer, but for now let's just concentrate on surviving this one week with the resources we've already got."
Elrond pounded on the door. No one stirred inside. After waiting a decent interval, Elrond pounded on the door yet again. Still nothing.
"This doesn't seem to be working, Elrond," Celeborn said hopefully. "Why don't we just give up and tell the producer that we couldn't get through to our subject's inner-elf 'cause we couldn't get through to him, period."
Elrond scowled and raised not one both patented eyebrows. "There must be some way to get inside."
"Let me take a look at that door," said Legolas. "It looks kinda like a door I ran across on a trip with a group of friends a millennium or so ago—you know, back when we were a bunch of idealists trying to rid the world of poorly designed jewelry."
Legolas stepped up to the door and peered at it. "Well, gee," he sighed dramatically, "if those Dwarves would only do a little cleaning, but noooo…." With a flick of his wrist, he brushed away the dust that covered the instructions for opening the door. Haldir coughed delicately as the dust blew into his face.
"What does it say?" asked Elrond.
"Uh, it reads, "Say, dude, come on in," answered Legolas.
"Dude!?" spluttered Celeborn. "Dude!? And we're gonna hafta spend a week on a makeover of this, this—Halfling!"
"Hey," protested Legolas, "he's a Dwarf, not a Halfling! Anyway, I happen to know some really nice Halflings!"
"Yeah, yeah, I know," snorted Celeborn. "Let me guess—some of your best friends are Halfings, right?"
"But would you want your daughter to marry one?" sniggered Haldir.
"No! no!" I gotta a better one!" chortled Thranduil. "Would you wanna marry one!?"
"Eeew!" Legolas gagged. "Forget marriage; I wouldn't even want one as a domestic partner!"
"And I," Thranduil added, "wouldn't want to meet one at a bathpavilion."
"Bathpavilion!?" laughed Celeborn, staring at Thranduil in amazement. "That is so not done anymore."
"Oh, yeah?" Thranduil challenged. "So how do you meet people?"
"Well," Celeborn answered haughtily, "There are several very well-monitored chat-talans in Lothlorien."
"Right. 'Well-monitored' is the operative word," Haldir whispered to Legolas. "I prefer the greater intimacy of instant messaging by palantir—by the way, are you connected to the network?"
"Enough," shouted Elrond before Legolas had a chance to answer. "Your catty comments are not helping us get through this door!"
"You know," said Legolas thoughtfully, "I remember something about what it took to get through that door a millennium ago. What's Dwarvish for "dude?"
"Um, 'Dwarf'?" suggested Thranduil.
To the amazement of the Fab Five, the door suddenly swung slightly inward, and Elrond then was able to open it completely with the gentlest of pushes.
"So," said Legolas triumphantly, "the correct reading was not 'Say, dude, come on in', but 'Say, "dude"; come on in'. Quotation marks and a semicolon; that's all it took to unravel this riddle."
"Yeah," complained Celeborn, "but if the Dwarf had punctuated it right in the first place, then we wouldn't have been hung up here so long."
"Terrific," grumbled Elrond. "Another area where this Dwarf is gonna need help, culture-wise."
Celeborn grimaced at the sight that greeted the Fab Five. Dirt and cobwebs everywhere, but that wasn't the half of it.
"First of all," Celeborn muttered through gritted (and gritty) teeth, "these bodies have got to go. I mean, look how disheveled they look—they've probably been lying here for centuries."
"Oh, I don't know," said Thranduil. "I kinda like the statement they make, what with all those arrow protruding out of them."
Elrond stared at Thranduil. "Oh, come on, Oropherion, you're not into that sort of thing, are you?"
"Long pointy objects, long pointy objects," chanted Legolas, who had drawn his blades and was twirling them with a dreamy expression on his face. Thranduil swatted at him, but he scooted for protection behind Haldir, who flung his arms around him and grinned.
The Fab Five tiptoed deeper into the Dwarf's abode.
"Ew, yuck," cried Thranduil, "I cannot buh-lieve how rundown this place is. I mean, will you just look at this well—I wouldn't drink any water from it—nuh uh, no way."
The Fab Five stared in horror at the dirty bucket that rested on the lip of the crumbling well, and Haldir poked disgustedly at the rusty, broken chain that lay in a haphazard jumble next to the bucket.
"Hmmph," snorted Elrond as he noticed what lay at the base of the well. "Dwarves have no respect for literature. Would you look at the state of this book!" He bent down and drew a book from the grasp of a dead body. "The pages are torn and stained, and, see, its spine is broken!" Loose pages slipped out from the volume as Elrond spoke. "I swear, it looks as if someone has been using this thing for sword practice!"
"Mmmm," murmured Legolas, "long pointy objects, long pointy—." Thranduil swatted at him again, and he scurried back to Haldir, who flung his arms around him and smirked.
"O.k., o.k., guys, settle down," growled Elrond. "Well, I must say, it's obvious that this Dwarf is going to put Celeborn's interior design expertise to the ultimate test."
"And Thranduil is going to have to introduce him to Perrier water without delay," Haldir chimed in.
"And I dread to think what Haldir and I are going to face in the area of clothing and grooming," whined Legolas. "Judging from these, ahem, accommodations, we may be in for a worse time than I thought. I'm starting to think more fondly of that rugged ranger, Aragorn son of Arathorn."
"Now who's alliterating!?" sneered Haldir. Legolas swatted at him, but he darted for protection behind Thranduil, who flung his arms around him and leered.
"WILL YOU GUYS CUT IT OUT!" shouted Elrond.
"Elrond, that is so not refined," began Celeborn, but he halted when Elrond drew his sword.
"Oh, good, a long, pointy—"
"Legolas," Elrond snarled, "how would you like to be stuck with a long, pointy object!?"
"Bad question, Elrond," interjected Haldir.
Folks, sorry to leave things hanging on a point, so to speak. TBC.