(A/N: My apologies for taking so long to update; I had too many papers and finals in April to give much attention to fanfic. As with the last chapter, I'm going to let Crowbait and TK handle the reviews. No offense is intended, and if you read between the lines you'll find what I would say if I were doing the responses straight up.
This chapter does, once again, resort to some fairly juvenile and slightly tasteless humor, for which I apologize. I also include some poetry so bad that it makes the infamous Tralalalally poem sound like a classy art song.
For the record, Werecat99, Lady LeBeau,and anyone else who was wondering, any and all errors and inconsistencies, especially misspellings, are intentional (this being badfic) or at least I will say they are to cover my posterior. Anyone attempting to scrutinize or otherwise take this seriously will suffer the wrath of Awrin (my mini-Balrog). Also for the record, I abhor slash.
Two major parts of this chapter need to be credited:
1) The opening of this chapter is good-natured payback to TreeHugger and Dragon-of-the-north for both the subject matter and cliffhanger associated therewith in The Silver Peacock and the Skulking Cutpurse.
2) This chapter introduces an AU version of Tanglinna, an excellently characterized OC belonging to TreeHugger who has become something of an institution unto himself, based on the fact that I am no less than the fifth author to write a story including him. He makes reference to incidents that occur in Elrond's Most Forgettable Birthday. Thanks to Dragon-of-the-north for the suggestion that led to his inclusion and also for suggesting Vienasar's worry over what Huchelda was doing at the forge.
To the Halls of Mandos in a Backpack
Chapter V: Close Encounters of the Less than Savory Kind
"Another two months, another chapter, eh Theodosia?"
"More or less. I really wish we could move faster, but the Canonical Resistance Movement seems to be slowing our creative juices."
"And certainly messing with our intentions. I mean, look what they made me do in this chapter!?!"
(Giggles) "Yes, they certainly did screw around with you." (Begins to lose control of her laughter) "Ahem. Should we move on to the review responses?"
(Glares at his cowriter and again wonders why he puts up with her) "Indeed. Thank you, Werecat99, for getting to this story as you did. We are blushing over your description of this as brilliant."
"Although I do take offense to you calling our perfect OCs obnoxious. And there is some concern about the CRM's secret weapon, though I hope we may accomplish our purpose before it arrives. I'm quite glad that you enjoyed it, makoto-47, and I'm sorry that it took us so long to address the little cliffhanger."
"Dragon-of-the-north- that's one long review. A hug and kiss for Vienasar's favorite fangurl. My apologies to Alagaith, whom I much admire, for making him choke."
"I must concur with you that I have my suspicions about Arwen's earnestness, especially after this chapter. I accept your apology, though I take some offense at your ill-conceived efforts to make a match between me and my ill-groomed coauthor. I suspect that the concussions will probably continue, and even I am beginning to pity Elrond, having to heal with all that stuff on his mind. If only he was willing to accept our aid…"
"We never offered, Theodosia, and even if we had he would be crazy to accept it after what you tried to do to him."
(Glares) "Well, if you thought Dragon's was long, look at TreeHugger's."
"Amazing. I stand in awe of your thorough and entertaining review; it was almost as fun to read as another chapter of your stories. The answers you seek are forthcoming."
"Yes, Greetings from Mordor, we are romantic, and strongly looking forward to that opportunity. Lady LeBeau, I'll agree with you that cruel and unusual is entertaining, as long as it is happening to someone else."
"My regrets that I am not up to your caliber. I, too, would be interested in buying a copy of Elladan's book; it would be very useful to be able to cuss without freaking out Theodosia's cat."
"Shall I provide the usual disclaimer? Vienasar and Huchelda belong to us, while characters with recognizable names and the setting belong to that Tolkein guy."
"Awrin has a few last words before we commence with the story."
(Clears her fire-scarred throat and begins) "Tanglinna- welcome (if it can be called that) to this mess the kingmaker has created. He strongly sympathizes with the sentiments you expressed in your review. You will most certainly have the opportunity to contribute to Elladan's compilation of curses. Greetings from Mordor- both names (Theodosia King and Crowbait) are intended to allude to the kingmaker's nicknames. Laureline- I elected to call Vienasar a Joseph Bill instead of a Marty Stu merely because the latter is an obvious ripoff of the original using very uncommon names, while Joseph Bill reflects back to the original (Mary/Joseph) while also conveying the fear present in the former (you don't want to be billed just as you don't want to be sued). Everybody- my apologies for the cliffhanger. It will be resolved right now."
Love is in the Air, Chapter 5- Unlikely Bedfellows
Vienasar sighed as he rolled over. He could not believe how easy this had turned out. No long, painful courtship, no lengthy confrontation with her father that might have gone more quickly if his sister's blackmail attempts had worked, nothing that required him to put forth an effort or turn on his magically enhanced charm. If his sister was around, he would have laughed in her face, but on the other hand he probably would not have wanted his relatives (or anyone else, for that matter) to witness his relations. Then again, it might have been worth it, just because of how much it would have pained Huchelda to see a man doing things with someone other than another man or herself. He nuzzled closer to the soft, smooth, drop dead gorgeous piece of flesh sleeping contentedly next to him. Not close enough. He swung his leg up over hers. He heard a faint peal of laughter, including someone… guffawing right next to his face.
His eyes shot open. The face sharing a pillow with him was not that of his beloved, but an Uruk face so ugly and so grotesquely deformed that it was a wonder that it could breath, much less guffaw. Despite some little voice in his head saying "I will not scream like a girl, I will calmly reach for my sword and dispatch of this creature," he screamed nonetheless. "I… WILL NOT… SCREEEEEAAAAAM… LIKE A GIRL!!!!"
He tried to move away, but the monster somewhat awkwardly threw its arms around him and rolled on top of him. His screams attained a new octave as the Uruk began gyrating in the vicinity of his midsection and saying, in a voice that was not as deep as one might expect from a huge orc, "Oh, yes, love, this is how Glormog likes them, oh yes: beautiful, unspoiled, wriggling, and screaming." It sounded as though the Uruk might have cussed and spat, but Vienasar neither heard the former clearly nor felt the latter.
"Okay, Elrohir, let's end this before poor Glorfindel pukes all over his padding."
"Or Vienasar makes that mattress any dirtier than it already is, come to that."
The Uruk rolled off the bed and walked gracelessly forth from the bedroom. Vienasar carefully shifted to an upright position and surveyed the others in the room. In a semicircle around the foot of the bed stood Erestor, looking as though he was trying desperately, and not entirely succeeding, to restore his composure, Huchelda and one of the twins, presumably Elrohir, both doubled over with laughter and seemingly incapable of speech, and Arwen, giggling slightly but also giving her brother a very stern look. "Out, out, all of you, before he gives you the strangling you rightly deserve." Swishing his hair over his shoulder, Erestor managed to walk out with the grace, dignity, and bearing typical of an elf lord, before promptly laughing out loud as soon as he had put the room behind him. The two (unrelated) twins, by contrast, did not even attempt to stand up or cease laughing, thus disproving any number of theories about impeccable manners by elves in the house of Elrond.
Vienasar's breathing returned to normal as Arwen sat on the bed next to him. "I'm sorry. My brother just could not resist the opportunity to mess with your mind, Glorfindel apparently had some reason to want to wreak vengeance on you, and, you do have to admit, it was pretty funny. How's your head?"
Vienasar's anger at that particularly crude prank was fading as he looked upon his beloved. Even if it had only been a dream, he still had opportunities to make it reality. He smiled at her. "Fairly well. You are quite the healer."
She smiled back at him. He disentangled his arm from blankets and was about to lay it around her waist when Huchelda's voice, still tinged with laughter, rang from the hallway. "Arwen? Gandalf would like a word."
Arwen got up, grinned apologetically, and walked out of the room, passing Huchelda as she came in. Before Vienasar could yell at her, she addressed him in a tone even more authoritative than was usual. "Throw off the covers and get out of the bed." He did so. She took one look at the mattress, coughed with embarrassment, and looked away. "Elrohir was right; that bedding certainly has lost its virginity. Should I be saying 'I told you so' in response to your statement that you would never do that again?"
Vienasar at least had the grace to look abashed. "Stuff it, sis. It isn't as though I was conscious at the time. So why did you let them do that to me? And how long have I been out?"
"In answer to your last question, you were hit in the head yesterday morning and the sun is close to setting now. Regarding the slightly immature but nonetheless uproarious prank, Elrohir apparently came up to join Arwen in caring for you shortly after she brought you here. He, and I have absolutely no idea where he got this impression, somehow got the idea that you were faking an injury so that you could be alone in a bedroom with his sister. Apparently, sometime early this morning you began talking to and amorously engaging the mattress as though it were Elrohir's innocent sister and, not taking too kindly to this, he hatched a plan of revenge. When I came to visit you a couple hours ago, he said that, as much as he despised some of my actions, it would be cruel and unusual punishment not to allow me to witness the fruit of his scheme."
Vienasar glared at her. "And what, pray tell, were you doing such that you couldn't visit me until a couple hours ago?"
"Top secret tasks in the smithy. None of your business."
"Oh Valar. You weren't trying to reforge Narsil, were you?"
"No, though now that you mention it…"
"As much as you might think it would be a way to win Aragorn, I definitely wouldn't suggest it."
Huchelda brought her hand up near her heart. "Considering how difficult this turned out to be, I have to agree with you." Vienasar opened his mouth to question her, but before he could do so she hastily continued. "In other developments, Elrond, with some assistance from Gandalf and possibly one of the other hobbits, is still hard at work trying to heal Frodo. Everyone seems to be somewhat more accepting of my presence, though that may be at least in part due to that fact that numerous others are descending on Rivendell for the Council, among them a handful of dwarves and several elves from Mirkywood, led by their Prince Legolas. Speaking of whom, you need to get out of bed and cleaned up so that Elrohir can take that mattress and stick it on Legolas' bed. Apparently there is some ongoing mischievous competitiveness between those two that Elrond's twins want to get ahead on."
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Meanwhile, down in one of Lord Elrond's prison cells, a golden-haired elf was depositing what had been his lunch in a bucket that normally would serve as a prisoner's bedpan (and thus was accustomed to such abuse). Against the wall lay the Uruk skin, beneath a surprisingly large pile of blankets, pillows, and other bits of fabric used to fill out the beast's musculature. How Elrond had obtained the Uruk skin and why he had kept it were mysteries even to Glorfindel, mysteries that he really did not feel like contemplating while he vomited forth his guts. Why had he let the twins get him involved in this? Yes, he wanted to get back at Vienasar for that incident, but this prank was just as, if not more, unpleasant for the prankster than the prankee. He would have to find some way to get back at Elrohir for this…
As Glorfindel began to feel that his retching was over, a silver-haired elf appeared in the entrance to the cell, looking surprised and slightly apprehensive. "Glorfindel? Are you unwell? That was a dumb question. Do you need me to get you some medicine?" Glorfindel shook his head. "Just some post-prank nausea. What are you doing down here?"
Tanglinna raised an eyebrow. "I might ask the same of you. Apparently there is some ongoing mischief competition between Legolas and the twins that Legolas was about to renew and he suggested that I go somewhere the twins are unlikely to go lest I get caught in the crossfire. So I figured I'd come down here, since I don't imagine the twins often voluntarily visit the cells, and catch up on old memories." He sat down against the wall opposite from Glorfindel. "So what prank did you get involved in?"
Glorfindel had no particular desire to relive that experience, but he was aware that, for whatever reason, his head was clearer now than it had been at any other time since Vienasar and Huchelda had arrived. More to the point, he realized that Tanglinna and the other new arrivals had probably not been told about all the dangers associated with those twins and that Tanglinna was unlikely to come to the attention of the twins as long as he was careful.
Thus Tanglinna was enlightened regarding the sinister nature of the twins, the odd happenings and evil acts they had committed since their arrival (at least those Glorfindel could remember), and the especially nasty prank in which he had lately participated. Tanglinna shuddered slightly upon hearing that, commented that such… appetites among orcs were not unheard of, as he knew from unpleasant personal experience, and suggested that he should find some wine with which they could forget those repulsive incidents.
As Tanglinna stepped into the passage, Elrohir ran into him at fairly high speed. Unfazed, Tanglinna asked "Elrohir, could you point me to the wine cellar?" Elrohir, perhaps distracted by the thought of whatever he had been running from, did not remember that all Mirkwood elves were banned from entering Elrond's wine cellar following a highly amusing incident many years past and merely pointed behind him, saying "Up the stairs, first door on the right." Tanglinna nodded, and Elrohir took off again. Shortly behind him came Legolas, also running at very high speed and with his groin completely soaked. Tanglinna shook his head, deciding that, having suffered negative consequences up to and including imprisonment for becoming involved in such childish mischief, he probably did not want to know.
He returned to the cell with two bottles of Dorwinion, one of which he handed to Glorfindel, but Glorfindel set it aside. "We should share one, since neither of us can afford to lose our wits on account of alcohol." Having taken a swig, Tanglinna passed it over. "Now, about these twins. Do we know anything about their heritage? Their behavior strikes me as awfully suspicious…"
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Despite all the new arrivals, dinner was an unusually casual affair. With the Lord of Rivendell occupied by Frodo and the weather surprisingly, but pleasantly, warm for October, Erestor made the executive decision that supper would be buffet style and encouraged everyone to eat beneath the falling leaves. Neither Vienasar nor Huchelda (nor any of the others, for that matter) needed much encouragement to withdraw from the manmade (or rather elfmade) structures of Rivendell.
With Elladan largely out of the picture because Elrond needed him to guard and serve the healing effort, Elrohir had nonetheless begun the autumn offensive against Prince Legolas and immediately achieved a resounding success. Having dismissed the other Mirkwooders, Legolas had sat down for what he thought would be a quiet afternoon drinking and catching up on old times with his friend, the incredibly hunky and gloriously well-muscled Aragorn. In a feat of elven craftsmanship that would probably be wondered at for the rest of the age, Elrohir had somehow managed to, without being detected, run a small piece of tubing up through the cushion of the chair and into at least one layer of Legolas' garments. Elrohir then proceeded to, every time Legolas took a sip, pump a little bit of water through the tube, which would appear shortly thereafter on the front of Legolas' pants without him noticing. Despite Aragorn's increasingly uncontained mirth, Legolas was completely and utterly soaked before he realized what was afoot. Legolas proceeded to spend the next hour or so pursuing Elrohir up and down the buildings that composed Rivendell, during which time, in addition to whatever damage they did to each other, Erestor was bruised after being bumped down a flight of steps, Arwen took a bucketful of water to the face, and at least one of the dwarves fell into a vat of undiluted elven perfume (originally intended as a present for Galadriel).
As this pursuit was still believed to be ongoing, dining outside was considered an excellent idea for all concerned. Huchelda took the opportunity to locate and talk to her beloved Aragorn away from Elrohir's protective eye. Unfortunately, when she found him he was sitting next to a gently flowing stream with Arwen at his side. Deciding to try and make the best of a suboptimal situation, Huchelda sat down opposite them, with her back to the stream. Arwen looked slightly annoyed at the interruption but said nothing, while Aragorn studied Huchelda intently as though he hadn't noticed her indescribable beauty before. Which, in fact, he had not. As much as Huchelda just wanted to lean in and begin making out with him on the riverbank, Arwen's presence precluded such a display, at least at this stage of their relationship. To placate this potential rival, Huchelda turned the subject to something they could both laugh at and addressed Aragorn. "It's a shame you weren't around to see Glorfindel and my brother this afternoon. It was so delightfully funny! I almost wet my pants, I was laughing so hard." Arwen's sour face softened as she began giggling at the memory. Aragorn, whom Arwen had apparently told already, also started chuckling, and he took the opening to describe to both ladies the prank Elrohir had pulled on Legolas in excruciatingly amusing detail.
Before Aragorn had finished, however, Elrohir had come upon the little party and immediately moved to interpose himself between Huchelda and the object of her affections. He began to suggest that Huchelda move on (as though she would actually obey the sweating and dirty elf) but was interrupted by a squirrel hopping up on his shoulder and striking an undeniably cute pose. Unaware that, upon seeing the squirrel, both Aragorn and Arwen had gotten to their feet and were slowly backing away, Huchelda asked Elrohir whose squirrel it was. "I believe that Legolas… trained… it…"
As Elrohir's voice trailed off, Huchelda saw the elf in question standing several feet behind Elrohir, a malicious grin lightening his irate and frustrated face and looking like nothing so much as an exhausted cat about to pounce on his prey. Despite being unable to see his assailant, Elrohir somehow managed to duck and roll out of the way just as Legolas left his feet to hit him with a flying tackle. This sudden turn of events caused Legolas to hit Huchelda instead. For an instant, their bodies were together and she was aware that, in spite of his effeminate appearance, he was surprisingly muscular. Then his momentum sent both of them tumbling into the river.
For Vienasar, supping outside was an effort at escapism as much as anything else. Apparently, every single individual in Rivendell knew what he had done in the bed and how he was the victim of a particularly nasty shenanigan and had consequently taken every available opportunity to laugh at him. To him, however, peace and quiet were proving to be as elusive as Elrohir was to Legolas. He had been sitting down not five minutes when he was accosted by a handful of dwarves, at least one of whom smelled like a human prostitute in a cheap tavern trying desperately to attract elven patrons and, considering the degree to which the dwarf reeked of extremely strong perfumes, probably failing miserably.
One of the dwarves addressed the others. "Auch, lads, it's Bonnie Prince 'Orny, Lord Pimp of the Bedroom Furnishin's." A second added, "Las' night 'e conquered the mattress; tonigh' will 'e take on the dresser?" Yet another, likely the source of the overpowering scent, contributed, "Jus' tell me you used a sheet for protection. It'd be a shame if that poor bed 'ad caught one of your filthy elvish… diseases."
Vienasar scowled. As tempting as it would be to strangle all of them, it wouldn't solve any problems. Plus the fact that he was unsure whether or not he could retain consciousness if he moved much closer to the source of the fragrance. So he responded with the only pseudo-appropriate comeback in his arsenal: "And how many Balrogs have you killed, my short, aromatic friends, eh? Not twenty six, I should think." He paused slightly as an unfamiliar silver-haired elf passed. "Twenty seven, if you count the Balrog I killed before falling in Dagor Bragollach."
The dwarves glared at him and made what might have been obscene hand gestures as they moved on, but the third one to speak commented, "None, and I'd be a stupid dwarf to try, what with the certainty of death and small chance of success."
The silver-haired elf was still standing there, his face incredulous. "You were at Dagor Bragollach?" Vienasar, remembering what Erestor had told him, answered "Yep, I served there and at Dagor Aglareb under my lord Maedhros." The silver-haired elf raised an eyebrow. "And who were your parents? And why did the Valar elect to send you back to the living?" Vienasar gave what he hoped was an enigmatic grin. "Those are matters between my parents, the Valar, and me." The silver-haired elf narrowed his eyes but said nothing, instead walking back toward Elrond's library.
Some minutes later, as he was heading back toward the kitchen with his dishes, he heard what sounded like Merry, Pippin, and possibly Bilbo singing to a large crowd.
The bed now lies dead.
It lost its maid-head.
That twin was quite high,
And do you know why?
He's in love with a mattress,
A mattress, a mattress,
In love with a mattress,
Down here in the valley.
Ha ha!
Behavior of his
Most appalling is.
Such horrible luck
The bedding to ----.
He's in love with a mattress,
A mattress, a mattress,
In love with a mattress,
Down here in the valley.
Ha ha!
He thought that it was
Sweet Arwen because
A pillow that's bare
Feels much like her hair.
He's in love with a princess,
A princess, a princess,
In love with a princess,
The queen of the valley.
Ha ha!
In bed there I bet
Another he met.
It made fair the day,
That orc being gay.
He's in love with an Uruk,
An Uruk, an Uruk,
In love with an Uruk,
Ill befalls the valley.
Ha ha!
Three lovers had he.
Two were not be.
Bye, princess who's hot,
And Uruk who's not,
Because
He's in love with a mattress,
A mattress, a mattress,
In love with a mattress,
Down here in the valley.
Ha ha!
Ha ha ha!
As the applause reached fairly impressive levels, Vienasar made the executive decision to seclude himself in his quarters until someone else did something really embarrassing.
Some time later, Vienasar awoke to the sound of a piercing shriek. His sister, who was still not entirely dry following her unexpected plunge into the unpleasantly cold water, surmised that it was Legolas screaming upon discovering the now infamous mattress, its preexisting nastiness presumably exacerbated by Elrohir's machinations. Huchelda sighed. "The poor prince has not had a particularly good day." Vienasar's last thought before dozing off again was that it seemed odd that she would direct that statement toward Legolas and not him.