Author: TICS
Rating: R
Summery: Glorfindel pays someone an unexpected visit.
Disclaimer: I don't own them…I just play with them for a while, and always make sure to put them back exactly where I found them.
Genre: Humor. AU…please do not expect anything even remotely resembling canon here. Feedback greatly appreciated…desired…wanted…needed…:D
A/N: I have changed the rating of this fic to "R" since it seems to be developing a tad more bawdier than I had first envisioned it to be.Chapter 19- Interview with the King
Having asked at least a half dozen servants where she might find Thranduil, the Author found herself entering one of the outside gardens. Spotting the tall blonde figure at the far end of the garden, she cleared her throat in a dainty, ladylike fashion, hoping to get his attention.
Nothing.
She cleared her throat again, louder this time than the time before.
Still nothing.
She cleared her throat yet again, this time sounding like a cat coughing up a hairball.
"You really might think about getting that checked…it sounds awful."
"Your Majesty? I've been trying to get your attention."
"A simple, "Good Afternoon, Your Majesty," would have sufficed. You needn't have hacked up a lung."
"Fine. "Good Afternoon, Your Majesty," the Author repeated, sticking her tongue out at the back of the Elf's head.
Nothing again. Silence.
"Is this some type of game you like to play…because it's really annoying. I wished you a good afternoon - the least you could do is reply in kind!" the Author huffed.
"I would reply in kind if you had wished me a good afternoon."
"I just did!"
"No, you wished His Majesty a good afternoon. I am not His Majesty…I am Galion, his butler."
"Why didn't you just tell me that to begin with?"
"You didn't ask. His Majesty, the King, is awaiting you in his chambers."
"Oh, no…you can just go and tell him that I've had quite enough of Elves in bedrooms, thank you very much. He can just trot his royal patootie down here to the gardens."
"I beg your pardon!" Galion gasped, turning to face the author, his eyes wide.
"You heard me."
"You wish me to tell His Majesty, King Thranduil Oropherion, former Sovereign of the Eryn Lasgalen, to 'trot his royal patootie' down here to the gardens?"
"I believe that is what I said."
"Have I done something to you for you to wish death upon me?"
"He can't be that bad…"
"Would you like to place a wager? I've served him since he was an Elfling…trust me, young lady…he is that bad."
"You aren't going to tell him, are you? Fine. I'll go to him, but only because I want this interview over with…lead away, Lord Galion."
"I've already told you…I'm a butler, not a lord."
The Author rolled her eyes. "You people take everything so literally…you're a butler? Fine, then buttle…" she said, making shooing motions with her hands to get him moving.
Shaking his head at the audacity of the human female, Galion led her back inside the House, and up the stairs to Thranduil's chambers.
Galion opened the door to Thranduil's chambers, allowing the Author to precede him into the room. He closed the door behind them, before walking to a small boom box sitting on a table near the window. His shoulders slumped as he rolled his eyes heavenward, and took a deep breath.
"May I present, His Majesty…Thranduil Oropherion…the King…" he said in a long-suffering voice, pushing a button on the boom box and swiftly leaving the room.
The Author looked confused at the butler's actions until the music from the boom box started playing.
"Since my baby left me…I found a new place to dwell…it's down at the end of Lonely Street…Heartbreak Hotel…"
"Oh, no…" she thought, her eyes swinging from the boom box to the door to Thranduil's bath. A tall figure stood there, silhouetted against the door. The Author clapped her hand over her mouth, desperately trying to keep from guffawing in the King's face.
Thranduil had struck a pose in the doorway, dressed in a white leather bell-bottomed jumpsuit, complete with a short red silk lined cape and covered in rhinestones. His narrow waist was cinched with a wide white belt, with what could possibly be the world's largest belt buckle reading "T.C.B", again in rhinestones. Although his long hair remained a deep golden color (thank Eru), his eyes were covered with gigantic aviator sunglasses.
"Your Majesty?" she managed to squeak.
"Thank you for coming. Thank you verra much," he replied, stepping into the room.
"Um…you're welcome."
"Well little lady…please, have a seat," Thranduil said, gesturing to a chair near the boom box, which was currently belting out "Teddy Bear."
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
"Please, call me "T," he said, smiling a cocky grin at her.
She quickly put the tape recorder on the table, and pressed the "record" button, after turning off the boom box.
Author: I see that you, er…admire the King.
Thranduil: I am the King.
Author: I meant Elvis Presley.
Thranduil: So did I.
Author: I beg your pardon?
Thranduil: Come now…you didn't really think I died, did you? I just came home.
Author: Elvis was born in Tupelo, Mississippi.
Thranduil: That's what my agent wanted everyone to believe.
Author: But your mother…Gladys…
Thranduil: An actress by the name of Wilma Frook.
Author: No…no! Elvis aged over the course of his career…he even got fat! How do you explain that, Mr. Elf Who Thinks He's Elvis?"
Thranduil: Make-up. Never heard of special effects technicians? Amazing what they can do with latex. Wanna hear me sing?"
Author: Not particularly. Tell me about Greenwood.
Thranduil: I'd rather tell you about Graceland.
Author: Greenwood!
Thranduil: Graceland!
Author: Greenwood!
Thranduil: Take your clothes off.
Author: OH NO! Back off, you Elven Version of A Holiday Inn Elvis Impersonator!
Thranduil: Then let me sing.
Author: Fine…go ahead and knock yourself out.
the tapes rolls on as Thranduil does a fair imitation of Elvis singing "Blue Suede Shoes."
Author: It's been very…interesting…interviewing you, Your Majesty…er, Elvis…er…Mr. T.
Thranduil: You're verra welcome. Here, have a scarf.
Author: Thank you…
The Author switches the tape recorder off, but Thranduil beats her to the door, opening it to admit Galion, who evidently, has been waiting for his cue. Thranduil slipped out of the bedroom, while Galion walked to the boom box. Fast forwarding it a bit, he hit the play button again. "Glory, glory Hallelujah…glory, glory Hallelujah…"
Galion cleared his throat, once again rolling his eyes heavenward, before announcing, "The King has left the building."
TBC…