Disclaimer: I do not own Middle-earth or any characters conjured up from the brilliant mind of J.R.R. Tolkien.
A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates...
My Head Hurts
Part VI:
Prepare Yourselves
"I look mighty spiffy," Aragorn giggled to himself. "Look! Look!"
For the past hour all they could hear was how amazingly clean his hands were. They just kind of groaned their response then glared at Boromir.
"What?" he asked innocently.
"This all your fault," Merry kicked him in the shin.
"Yeah, all your fault," Pippin kicked the other. Boromir fell to the floor trying to nurse his bruises. "If it weren't for your miracle bath, Strider would be explaining the difference between good dirt and bad dirt right about now, instead of acting like being clean was some sort of new Middle-earth trend."
"Mmm…I agree," said Gandalf. "I never knew the many different ways one could use dirt…quite educational, really."
"Yes, very useful," Legolas added without realizing what he had just said.
"Useful? How?" asked Boromir, still rubbing his bruises.
The prince blushed. "Umm...well...he taught me how to use it as a facial mask."
"Puwahahaha!" the Hobbits let out.
When the evil look in Legolas' eyes returned, they immediately quieted. "Being an Elf isn't as easy as it looks, you know!" snapped the prince. "Well, alright, it is...but it never hurts to look your best. In my many years my skin's never felt this soft," he stated.
"Yup, and that's a lot of years you've got there," Merry said from under his vest to keep from laughing out again while Pippin bit his bottom lip.
He was about to thwap the Brandybuck on the head until Aragorn came by and caressed his cheeks. "Ooooh, yes, soft. Soft and...spiffy!" he pinched them.
"Get...this...Ranger off of me," he calmly responded.
Gandalf and Boromir had to pry his hands off Legolas' cheeks by pulling him away. The King had a pretty good hold and was soon dragging the Elf with him via his face. The Hobbits doubled over the floor with laughter.
"Wait! Wait! I'm not done," protested Aragorn.
"I do believe the King has gone mad," Gandalf said to Boromir.
"Probably too much water in the brain," replied the Dúnadan.
"Aragorn, if you do not release the princes' cheeks this instance, I will tell Arwen how you purposely keep tripping Eldarion into the dirt," warned the wizard.
The Ranger cringed at his words. He knew he would feel the wrath of his wife if she found out that their son wasn't naturally clumsy in the outdoors. "Oh, fine...Mithrandir," he finally let go. He quietly smirked to himself when he saw the Maia wince. "I merely do that to get the boy familiar with his roots, I mean...the root's of nature. That's all."
Legolas gritted his teeth at the sore tingling feeling that remained on his skin. Two finger marks soon became red imprints covering each side of his face.
"Legolas, you're not upset with me are you? Your cheeks are just so soft and - "
The prince held his hand up to silence him. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Without another word, he hunched himself near a darkened corner and began to write again. He'd glance over his shoulder every now and then and glare at the Ranger then continue with what he was doing.
Gandalf rolled his eyes. "Here we go again. We will be here for a while. Hobbits, do you have your pots and pans?"
"Yes," they answered.
"Good. Boromir, do you have our food supplies?"
"Yes, Gandalf."
"Good. Let us eat then," he sat himself down. The rest followed in pursuit and relaxed. While everyone was enjoying the food that Boromir prepared, he leaned in towards the wizard.
"Gandalf, my friend, what are we to do with his Spiffyness? He looks to be getting worse," he said.
"Worse? How?" replied the old Man in between bites.
"Look at him. He is trying to eat his food with only his teeth so he doesn't dirty his hands." Aragorn had his hands behind his back looking like he was bobbing for apples every time he tried to get a bite off his plate.
"Well, I believe that the only remedy for his annoying behavior is to put him back to his normal unkempt state. And, since you were the one who washed and bathed him in the first place, it will be your duty to undo your creation," he responded.
Boromir nodded his head and sat silent. He had to figure out a plan to snap the King back to his normal self again. Maybe I can ask the wizard to rub his robes against him for a while? The dirt on there should be enough for two, I think… Wait a minute...isn't he suppose to be Gandalf the White? Not Gandalf the Fifthly Robed Guy? Hmm...
While Boromir pondered, Pippin slowly savored the delicious mushroom stew he asked him to make. When he was done, he happily burped and sank down on the floor with only his head against the wall by Legolas. Out of the six, the prince was the only one that did not eat. He was still busy writing. The Hobbit glanced his way and suddenly furrowed his eyebrows.
"Hey, Legolas, what's that on your belt?" he asked.
"What's what?" he questioned.
Pippin slowly crawled behind him to get a better look at the object faintly shining from the candle's light. "It's a piece of...string?" he looked closer.
Merry came by and examined it as well. "Yup, it's a string."
Legolas put his writing materials away and stood up. "What's a string doing tied behind the back of my tunic belt?" he glared at the Hobbits. He was sure to bash them against each other this time if it was another one of their pranks.
"No, it wasn't us. Honest!" swore Pippin. "Wouldn't do a thing like that on a full stomach. Might get a cramp if we started running now."
"Those hurt," nodded the Brandybuck. "Hey, let's see where it leads to!"
Pippin jumped with excitement, vigorously shaking his head. "Yes, let's!"
"No, wait. Do not do that," instructed Gandalf. He looked around the corridor for a strange feeling was brewing in his veins. Everything around them suddenly became quiet.
"I feel it too, old Man," Legolas listened carefully to his surroundings. The rest of the group stood on their feet and became alert. The Hobbits wrapped themselves around Aragorn's leg. "Something in the air doesn't feel right..."
"Aragorn, Boromir, when I give you the signal, pull hard on that string. Understand?" whispered Gandalf. The two Men nodded and took hold of the string tied to the prince's belt. Legolas had his back turned from them so he couldn't see anything that was happening.
"Now!"
Once the command was heard, the two pulled the string with all of their might. The Middle-earth inhabitants stood in shock at the sight before them.
Legolas made his way to the front of everyone to see what the commotion was all about. "So, what was on the other end...eep!" he gasped for air. "They're...they're..." was all he could get out. He started wheezing as panic struck throughout his body.
From down the corridor a dozen or so fangirls came crashing through a door, landing on top of each other, holding on to the other end of the string. They had secretly planted it on him (earlier that day) like a trail of breadcrumbs so they could trace his whereabouts around the palace.
"I told you we should have waited to wear our good heels. These floors are way slippery," a voice said under the pile.
"I know. Like, I didn't spend fifty bucks at the Gene Juarez Salon to have it ruined before my stud muffin could see it," another replied.
"Oh, whatever! You got it done at the Academy down on Stewart Street. Don't lie cause I totally saw you there," a blonde-haired fangirl rolled her eyes.
"Like, OMG! Look everyone!" someone pointed with a 'L' and 'G' painted on her face in green and brown. Everyone in the Fellowship (save the last three) started inching away slowly. If Legolas became desperate enough he would throw himself out the window and if he survived the fall, drown himself in the Enchanted River.
The fangirls took out their pink autograph books with matching fluffy tipped pens and 'I love you, Legs! Have my baby!' signs. Some also took out their vanity mirrors and checked to see if their makeup and teeth were in order while the others slipped on their second pair of high-heeled shoes.
The prince and company started choking from hairspray and perfumes that quickly filled the air. After the fangirls finished making their flammable Elven hairstyles and layering their faces with makeup, along with their Sally's press on nails secured on their fingers, they were ready. Ready to...attack.
All together they cleared their throats then started screaming at the top of their lungs. "Legolas!" they ran towards him. The high-pitched voices could be heard all over Middle-earth and it rang so horridly that even the residence of Valinor could hear them.
"Pretty bird!" Manwë, the lord of the Valar, snorted from his slumber. "Wha? Wha...what was that noise?" he was sleeping peacefully in his bed located in Ilmarin in the Blessed Realm until he was rudely awakened.
"Go back to sleep, dear," spoke Varda, his wife. "The noise you heard came from Middle-earth. Fangirls from an uncharted world have merely found Thranduil's son, Legolas."
"Again?" the King of Arda shook his head. "Maybe I should send a gustily wind to blow them away like insects in aid to the prince? Or send my feathered friends to pick at their hair?"
"You have already tried that before, dear, remember?" she replied. "The birds got hair poisoning from those foul products they used."
"Oh, yes, now I remember. They couldn't open their beaks for a month. How sad. Maybe you could help the prince, my love? The Elves often call for you in desperate times, do they not, Elbereth?"
"Elbereth needs her beauty sleep and if Súlimo does not leave her alone to rest, she shall be forced to blind him with her light," she warned.
Manwë responded back with snores...
End of Chapter
On to Part VII!
