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The rest of my day goes by in a hazy blur.
People are talking to me but I cannot listen. I can't keep my mind on anything else except for that torture Lord Elrond will make me go through.
Haldir makes me sit on the couch in front of the fire when I arrive at his place, grouchy and suicidal. I hear him cluttering about in the kitchen for a while until he comes back with a cup of tea for me and some of my favourite oatmeal-cookies.
Somehow the punishment does not seem so bad anymore. Nothing can appear gloomy while my favourite elf is with me and it looks like he is going to comfort me once I tell him what evil thing those sinister Elf Lords forced upon me.
'What's the matter with you?', he asks, sitting down next to me.
What's the matter with me? You ask what's the matter when I sit next to you, parted only an inch from dying of stress? I sniffle. I don't really want him to laugh about me. What if he thinks that I'm not able to fulfil Glorfindel's duties? How can he think I'm going to be able to do that when I can't believe it myself? And by the way, how can Elrond think I'm anywhere close to being able to fulfil any kind of job? Doesn't he like Rivendell? Then why in heaven does he put someone like me in a task that does request responsibility and self-denial for other people's sake? I am pretty much everything: brave, nice, beautiful, intelligent, athletic, blonde, etc., etc, but there's one thing that I'm proven not to be and that is responsible.
Maybe there is some hidden message, something I should learn from the fact that he just gave me a job I'm not qualified for but I don't know what it is. And if you really need to know, I don't want to know what it is at all! I don't need to learn things. I'm perfect the way I am and anyone who is not ready to accept that is stupid. Like Glorfindel.
I can't believe what he did. The Balrog-slayer, the elf that overcame death, a legend in the history of elves clinging to that dictator Elrond and sniffling all the time. 'Embarrassing' is the only word for it. I actually thought there would be a loud, nasty thud when you hit the ground because you can sink no lower but obviously I was wrong. I do hope that I was wrong because if Glorfindel should somehow be able to sink any lower than this I want to be very very far away when it happens.
'Legolas, tell me. We don't want to be sad about things that are really not so bad at all.'
Yes, I want to. Unless I don't cry I will burst soon.
'I'm ... I'm ... seneschal,' I manage to choke out before tears start gushing down my front.
It's not embarrassing for guys to cry, I tell myself. Not at all. I'm not a sissy because I can't restrain my grief or any emotion at that. And neither am I a sissy because I do have something like emotions. Rats. I think I might actually be a bit to emotional but what can you do in situations like this?
Haldir looks at me, his eyes like huge silver-blue dinner-plates.
'Seneschal?', he repeats weakly.
Oh my god. He hates me for being seneschal. Of course he does, I hate myself for being seneschal.
If I just jumped out the window I maybe wouldn't hear his reproachful speech I feel he's going to give now.
While I'm just estimating the distance between me and the next window and how fast I could possibly hit the ground outside, I decide that I should apologize first. I like Haldir, so I need to apologize before running away from whatever he's going to answer.
'I'm sorry,' I say. 'I'm sorry! I didn't mean to be seneschal at all. It was Lord Elrond! He started all of this. He punished me with being seneschal I couldn't defend myself! Don't hate me!'
I want to jump up and dive head first out of the window to avoid this feeling of deepest shame.
Haldir looks at me lovingly and my face flushes with warmth. That's because of the fire, of course, nothing else. It's only logical that I would flush sitting in front of a fire. Anyway, I remain on the couch, feeling some weird tingling somewhere in my chest.
'Legolas,' he whispers. 'That's so great!'
Excuse me, what? I think I just misunderstood something.
'It's great?', I repeat, dumbfounded.
'I'm so proud of you," Haldir replies, his eyes shining. 'You know, now I can walk through Rivendell and be so proud that I'm allowed to be with you. You're important. You have ... influence. Power. You are mighty. And I'm your ... friend. Am I not?'
He must have missed out on what I said or he just went completely crazy. I can't decide which possibility is more likely. If there is anything worse than being seneschal of a godforsaken rocky valley in the middle of nowhere which belongs to some arrogant crumb- brushing Lord it definitely hasn't been invented yet. All of this just adds to my unstable state and makes me more depressed than ever. I got this nasty feeling that nobody seems to understand the hardship I'm going through.
Maybe I didn't make myself clear. Maybe I should act out how much I suffer and add more sound files to every laborious task I accomplish to draw at least some attention to it.
''Cause you are,' I answer finally. 'But I can't understand ... what is so great about being a slave to Lord Elrond? It doesn't matter if I'm guard or seneschal; I'm a slave to ...'
'No, you're not. You're just working for the good of all the elves here. And you have the right and the duty to see if everybody does what they should be doing and to snub them if they don't do what they are supposed to do.'
Snub? Did he just say snub?
All right, maybe I can understand that this job has a nice aspect, too. Maybe it's not just hard labour but also a tiny bit of fun. Maybe I could have a break from work, let's say, half an hour to carpet some elves for not doing what they were supposed to do and vent all my anger by acoustically squashing them like some ugly bug.
'Do you think I can snub Elrond if he isn't doing what I want him to do?'
I would give anything in the world to hear YES as the answer to this question.
'Well, no,' says Haldir though he wears a smile that I think very cute. It's a mean killer-smile.
'But I do think that you could amicably point it out to him, if you know what I mean.'
I love his smile and his words, too.
'I know,' I reply and my voice sounds as though I was the grandmaster of destruction. Next thing I do is laugh a terrible laugh. I don't think that anyone who would conquer all of middle-earth would be able to laugh more heartily or maliciously.
It's not that I like to work and being seneschal is still a burden but it was just made a little lighter, I suppose. I don't feel like crying anymore. I feel like ruling.
Maybe I can apply for being the Lord of some country when the next elections come. Then I would chase the slaves around and seize little elves that run away from me.
'Har har har!', I'm laughing and Haldir looks at me with a puzzled expression.
No, love, these are not the signs of beginning megalomania. I only just realized the new abilities that lie in my range now. It's like being an orc for all ones life and suddenly you become a full-grown Uruk-Hai. And snap.
I snap my fingers and Haldir looks even more confused. I feel sorry for him but maybe he doesn't understand what goes through the minds of important people who have the right to snub.
I'm suddenly so much more powerful and my head stands way higher from the ground so that I can look down on all the other people without stepping on a crate of lembas-bread.
When I leave Haldir, he is less confused. I explained all my plans to him. I don't know why he smiled when I told him but probably they were that great. I wouldn't admit to it if somebody asked, I don't like to flatter myself, but I thought my plans to run Rivendell are actually pretty good.
I go straight to bed when I come to my room. I won't be a good seneschal because I hate work and nobody is going to feel better on my behalf but I can live with that. Yeah, I'm very self-assured, a real man, or real elf, that is, and I definitely have an appearance which radiates the kind of dignity that demands respect.
I'm not really good at it but I think today self-delusion did its masterpiece.
The whole night previous to the first day of disaster I slept like a log because my mind was probably able to predict that my first day of work in my life wouldn't come easy.
At exactly 6:30 a.m. the alarm-elf drops by my room to tell me it is time to move my rear out of bed and dress. Well, I really get out of bed, involuntarily though. When the alarm-elf raps my door and screams bloody blue murder I jerk up, try to untangle myself from the bed-sheets in a panicky hurry, thinking that there's fire somewhere or some other important emergency. It's only seconds after waking up that I notice that foot somehow getting caught in the sheets while I want to escape into freedom and that I hit the floor. Gracefully though, because I am an elf, but none the less with a thud and a squeal which are hilarious enough the way they are. And did I mention the pain? If I didn't, there's no word to describe it anyway.
Face down on the floor I notice that there's no emergency in this place. 'Tis the normal and absolutely delightful way the seneschal of Rivendell is to be woken every morning to make him feel special and important. What can I say; it makes me think of a military camp. I'm just waiting for the time when I'm sent to sleep in a bunk-bed in the dungeons with the guards.
Since I'm still lying on the floor with the definite urge to crash my head against it for some times I decide to get up and crash my head against something that is cleaner and smoother. The mirror is the next best thing that meets my eye and I sit down in front of it to get my mind clear. Crash. "Ouch!" Crash. "Ouch, damn it." Crash. "Gnrgl." Crash. My mind is still not clear and it seems to me that this situation is not a nightmare but the nightmarish truth. I'm the seneschal. I'm important, I'm damned! I'm going to be woken every morning like a prisoner in a cell and I'm going to be scoffed at constantly by anyone, especially that sadistic lord Elrond. Looks like there's only one thing left to say: 'To war!' I guess there is still going to be some time to beg for mercy once I messed up everything there is to mess up.
