Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR, or any of its characters. Me: Elladan? Elrohir? Why are you looking at me like that? I thought you liked this story Elladan: What were you thinking? Elrohir: How could you do that to us? Me: Legolas told me to do it. Elrohir: If Legolas told you to jump off of a bridge, would you do it? Me: Elladan: Well? Me: Give me a minuteI'm thinking

Chapter 6

Ice, Ice Baby

"Glory! Dudewhat's with the hair, anyway? And those ears! Man, if you were blue, you'd look like Smurfette!" laughed the fresh-faced rookie who was sitting on the bench, lacing up his skates. He was brand new to the team, and had not been warned about the two things that you NEVER asked the Captain about - his long hair, and his pointed ears. The other team members in the locker room cringed with anticipation of what they knew from experience would be a lesson learned for the rookie.

Before the rookie could blink, Glorfindel had exploded from his position in front of his locker, and had the newbie pinned up against the wall by the throat, his piercing blue eyes narrowed, and a low growl issuing from his chest.

"What did you call me?" Glorfindel hissed, lifting the rookie so that his toes barely touched the floor. "I suggest that you apologize at once, you worthless, brainless, lump of shit, before I give in to the desire to remove your thoughtless head from your shouldersI'm sorry," the rookie squeaked, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head.

"Do not ever speak to me unless spoken to! EVER. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" Glorfindel said in a soft, deadly voice. He released the new player, watching with satisfaction as he slid to the tiled floor. Glorfindel turned to his Assistant Captain, and said disgustedly, "Get him a new uniformhe's pissed this one."

The other players hid their grins behind their hands. They had all been through this trial by fire when they first joined the teamand had all pissed their pants. It was a right of passage.

Glorfindel walked back to his locker, his expression grave and unapproachable, but chuckling to himself on this inside. "It never changesthey always try to bust my chops about the hair and ears. Just once, it would be nice to have a rookie try to bust me on my heightor my playing skillsanything but the hair and the ears!"

He quickly stripped out of his street clothes, and dressed in the red, black and white New Jersey Devils' uniform. Sitting on the bench, he slipped on his skates and began to lace them.

"Captain," asked one of the more seasoned players, "He's still shakingand he can't make a coherent sentence."

Glorfindel sighed. "Maybe I was a bit over the top with himbut he did call me a Smurfette. By the way Glenn, what exactly is a Smurfette?"

"Oh, noif I tell you, you'll only go after him again, and that would mean he'll spend the rest of the season in the psychiatric ward."

"That bad, huh?" Glorfindel chuckled. "Okaylet him in on the ritual. He'll be sitting on the bench this game anywayjust try not to have him pee in front of the coach. Larry gave me hell the last time one of my rookies did that."

"You got it, Captain," Glenn said, turning to go and tend the rookie, who was still sitting slumped against the wall, wide-eyed and shaking.

The coach walked into the locker room just as Glenn and another player were helping the rookie to his feet. A quick look at the terrified expression on the rookie's face, in conjunction with the stain spread across the front of his pants, made the coach grimace and roll his eyes.

"Glorfindel! What have I told you about making the rookies pee their pants?" he yelled, standing in front of the tall elf, his hands on his hips.

"Larryhe called me a Smurfette. What was I supposed to do?"

"I don't care if he called you Martha Stewart in drag! DO NOT make the rookies pee their pants! It's costing the team a fortune in dry cleaning bills and therapy. DO NOT make me tell you again!"

"Yes, mother."

Glorfindel was the only player, in the coach's twenty some-odd years of coaching that could get away with speaking to him in such a manner. Basically, it was because the first time the coach had tried to get up in Glorfindel's face, Glorfindel had made him piss his pants. However, Glorfindel was also the best player in the NHL, and had earned the Devils an entire collection of Stanley Cups over the years. He also packed the arena for every single gamenot only with hockey fans, but with female Glorfindel fans, as well. They had season ticket holders who couldn't give a fig about the gamethey came only to see Glorfindel. The team made a fortune selling tee shirts, buttons, big foam fingers, pennants, and posters with his picture or name on them - the coach thought privately that they could probably tack a turd to a board and sell it, as long as the board had a photo of Glorfindel on it.

"It's almost game time. Get your sarcastic Elven ass out on the ice," the coach said, turning his back on Glorfindel. He glared at the other players on his way out of the locker room, as if daring any of them to even crack a smile about his conversation with the Captain.

Glorfindel was smiling as he made his way out of the locker room, followed by the rest of team, including the still very pale rookie, and lined up at the entrance to the ice. Game time always cheered him upbecause there was always a fight. And if there was one thing Glorfindel lived for - it was a good, old-fashioned, knock-some-heads-together, brawl. After all, he was an expert at it.

The first period saw Glorfindel earning a penalty within the first fifteen seconds of the game. "Five minutes for roughness" was the official call. Unofficially, the refs took bets with each other on the total penalty minutes Glorfindel would rack up during the game. His current record was eighteen, and an expulsion from the game.

As the Captain of the other team skated past the penalty box, Glorfindel gave him a big, toothy grin. Glorfindel liked smiling at the opposing team players, because he, of course, still had all of his own teeth, yet had been responsible for so many of his opponents losing theirs. Every gap-toothed snarl he received in return warmed his warrior's heart.

He once again congratulated himself on the choice of a perfect careerhe'd had many over the course of his long, long life. Most of them had been mercenary positions, but hockey player was proving to definitely be the most fun.

The opposing team's Captain skated by the penalty box yet again, sneering. He rapped on the glass with his stick, shouting, "Glory! I'm gonna break your neck when you get out of that box! You're not going to know what hit you! I'm a freakin' bad ass!"

"Yeah," Glorfindel thought, smirking "You're a real bad ass., alright. Tell you whatfight a balrog, and then we'll talk about bad ass!"