He slept in another part of the tent. Hah…I bet you thought I was going to say that when I'd woken up in the morning, he'd been sleeping next to me. Alas, 'twas not so. When I awoke, all I had was a nasty headache. No Elf snuggling for me. Not now, at any rate. Damn.
After staring at the tent ceiling for a while as I worked out and remembered all the details from the day before, I found my view blocked by someone's head. It turned out to be Glorfy.
"Minaimîr," he said, and for a moment I forgot that it was my new name. "The king wishes to speak with you."
"Oh joy." I wasn't in the best of moods. I had a horrible headache, and I'd just remembered that not only was I apparently dead, but I was never going to see any of my family again. Unless I stuck around for a while, and didn't go to Valinor when the last boat passed; but that was a decision for later. I buried my head under the covers and groaned.
"Minaimîr," he said warningly. "The king is not to be taken lightly."
"Piss off."
He sighed and I was left alone for a moment. Before Fe came in.
"Well," she said with complete and total disregard for the fact that I had a whopper of a headache, "that was some lovely singing yesterday."
Yesterday? What the hell? I poked my head out from under the covers and glared up at her, a sudden knot of dread getting to me. "What do you mean?" I remembered singing – possibly dancing – but could not, for the life of me, remember what. Or where the rest of the time had gone. I had apparently missed an entire day…how odd.
"I must say that I like the original better; it's more on key, but other than that, your rendition of Bad Touch wasn't all that bad."
Bad Touch? What the…? Oh no! Someone please tell me that I hadn't been singing that song at the top of my lungs!
Fiona must have read the expression on my face correctly as she blasted me with a mega-grin. I went back under the covers, too embarrassed to let myself be seen for the moment.
"That's right!" she sounded much too chipper for this early in the morning. "You serenaded us with a particularly…blunt, Bloodhound Gang song. Not to mention a lovely dance."
"Oh shit."
"If," she continued, "you feel the need to blame your antics on someone else, feel free to blame it on Glorfindel. He's the one who gave you alcohol, after all."
"Yeah, but I'm the one who drank it!" My face was burning, and I just knew the blush was creeping downwards. "Are you sure that it was Bad Touch I sang?"
"Quite."
"Shit." I followed with a barrage of swearwords that I shan't repeat, because I'm too polite when not hung-over. How the hell was I going to show my face around the camp ever again?
"Anyway, it's time for you to get up now."
"My head hurts." I know I was whining, but…Bad Touch? Of all the…! Maybe with this excuse I could stay here in the tent, where no one would have to see me.
"Gil-galad wishes to speak to you."
"Oh," I said, somehow managing to be sarcastic despite the hour and pain in my skull, "on a first name basis, are we?" When no answer was forthcoming, I peeked out from under the blankets. It was her turn to blush, goddamnit!
And, by Jove, she was! Only other time I've seen her such a colour is after her…well, I'll get to that bit later. And there was one other time, and I'm coming up to that quite soon…
"His name is Ereinion. His epessë is Gil-galad."
I said nothing and raised an eyebrow, not wanting to know at that time what the bloody fark an epessë was; I didn't care. Her colour deepened.
Anyway, when she composed herself, she finally managed to drag me out from under the covers and coerce me into putting on some other clothes than the massively oversized ones that I was wearing. I spared a moment's thought as to whether or not they were Glorfy's. And then realized that I such a pastime probably wasn't the best one for me.
Nevertheless, as I was changing out of the huge shirt, I did chance to inhale – rather deeply, I might add – and yes, it was Glorfy's shirt. Unless all male Elves smell like that…in which case, I wasn't very particular to which Elf's shirt it was.
They'd somehow managed to find clothes that would fit me. I'm not entirely sure how - nor would you be, given how farking tall everyone is around here – or where they'd gotten them from, but they were (relatively) clean and fit me better than Glorfy's had. They also made me look like a guy, if that was at all possible. My old clothes were nowhere to be seen.
If they'd burned them…oooo…I was going to kill, and it wouldn't be pretty.
"So," I said to Fiona, who was – as her modesty code dictates – waiting for me on the other side of the partition. "What does good ol' Gilly want with me?" Headaches have always caused me to be more sarcastic than ever. This probably wasn't a good thing, given our circumstances, but I'd lighten up – maybe – if someone would be kind enough to give me the local equivalent of an aspirin. I looked down at the ties and strings in my hand. "And how do these damned pants work, anyway?"
"The High King Gil-galad," Glorfy answered for my twin, putting major emphasis on Gilly's title, "has said only that he wishes to speak to you. He has not told me of what." Glorfy was there too? Damn…perhaps the 'good ol' Gilly' comment had not been prudent.
"Right then," I said, moving on to the second half of my question and bypassing Glorfy's comment completely. "How the hell do these damned pants work? These aren't going to stay up…" I trailed off as I realized what Fiona must have been thinking at that very moment. I stuck my head around the partition, fixed my eyes on her, and gave her a major glare. "Don't even think about saying what just came into your head," I said and then gave Glorfy a glare for good measure. "Same goes for you." I went back behind the partition to pretend that I couldn't hear Fe's smothered sniggers.
"So you do not wish me to explain to you the nature of pants?" Hark! Was that a sarcastic comment from Hotness, Sweetness and Light INC? I stuck my head back around the partition and gave Mr. Hotness a particularly evil glare, still ignoring Fe's not-quite-so-smothered-anymore sniggers.
"That's not what I meant," I said through clenched teeth. I stepped the rest of the way around the partition, holding the foreign pants up to my waist. Of course, I'd neglected to put the shirt on, so I was standing there, in me bra (thankfully I'd had the presence of mind to stick that in my still present backpack! Not so thankfully, the damn thing was an underwire of the shiny teal variety.), with the pants held up, lest they pool about my ankles.
It became increasingly difficult to ignore Fe, especially since she was now laughing outright and making no effort to stop.
Nudity is one thing Fe will avoid, but we were both females, and bras are like bikinis anyway. She wasn't too surprised by the sight. Glorfy, on the other hand, looked shocked for an instant and then his face was suddenly expressionless. He was staring directly at my face. And still looking damn hot, I might add, despite the sudden lack of expression.
"What I meant, Glorfy," I eventually managed to continue, still through clenched teeth, "is for you not to get any stupid ideas. Now…is there a belt that I might use, or are you going to tell me how these bloody damn pants work?"
I suppose I could have asked Fe, but she was too far-gone in giggles to be of any help. She was wearing an outfit very much like the one I'd been given, and had quite obviously gotten the pants to work - somehow. They had some weird-assed system of ties…Lord knows they couldn't have just done a drawstring.
Somehow she managed to come forward anyway, and drag me back behind the partition. It was a wonder, only because she couldn't seem to stop giggling. Largely through charades, she told me how the damn things work. And then she slipped back out, pausing only to add that it might be a good idea if I appeared before the king wearing my shirt.
I gave her a dirty look.
Some time later, we finally made it before the King, or rather, as I called him, 'good ol' Gilly.' He looked hot, serene, impartial, imperial and…hot. Fe seemed agree. At least, she didn't take her eyes of Good ol' Gilly almost the entire time, and I can't say that I blame her. That Elf knew how to move…of course Glorfy…don't get me started on how Glorfy moves. Because I won't ever stop. Fe learned that lesson rather quickly within a couple of days.
"Minaimîr," Gil-galad began, and once again it took me a moment to realize I was being spoken to. I guess Glorfy told him of the name change. "I must ask you to explain your actions and answers of yesternight."
"Which ones would those be, sir?" 'Your Majesty' would have been better, but I was awestruck. It's not often that one is in the company of an Elvish king, who also happens to be a hot Elvish king. I know Fe was having a hard time not passing out. And, through it all, I still had the urge to be cheeky. I did think that perhaps I was having too much fun, but…hell. Fun is fun.
"The answers you gave to Glorfindel, and your…singing." He seemed quite reluctant to call it that. I didn't blame him at all. As for the answers…
I tried real hard to remember what those had been. I really did. But I had a whopper of a headache and…and, apparently, an entire day had gone missing. "What did you want explained about them, sir?"
"Why you gave such ambiguous and yet suspicious answers to straightforward questions, and how they still managed to match those of your sister."
I shot Fe a look, and she gave me a tight little smile. Seems we'd done it again.
"Because we've had the same experiences?" I ventured.
"Yet you have let slip several things to which no answer other than 'I do not remember' has been given. And then there is the matter of your…" he paused and sighed. "Song."
I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. "I honestly don't remember what it was I was singing, sir."
So help me, he quoted it. In a fairly good rendition too…I stood there, chin to my chest, and all I could do was stare. Fiona was in pretty much the same state, I imagine…she had a much bigger crush on the dude than I did. Even Glorfy seemed uncomfortable. Given the content of the song…
"Do you remember it now?" he asked when he finished the first verse.
"Er…" I looked at Fiona and she barely shrugged, eyes wide. "Vaguely."
"From where did you come by it?"
"In a tavern," I answered. Close enough. I'd heard it in the pub at school, but that wasn't the only place. I shared another look with Fiona and barely shrugged.
"Is that tavern where you also learned your particularly unique style of dance?" Was that a grin? I couldn't be sure. He seemed rather stern.
"Dance?" Hadn't that part just been a dream? I tried looking at Fe again, but she wouldn't meet my eyes this time. She was apparently either embarrassed or grinning. I couldn't tell. "What dance?"
A snort drew my attention back towards the Elves in front of me. Captain Arsehole had made his presence known. "I do not doubt she learned her trade in a tavern. No doubt she sold herself for copper pennies to whomever passed by."
For the second time in as many days Captain Arsehole found himself flat on his back, staring up at the sky. No, I didn't punch him out – not this time. This time it was Glorfy who was nursing the sore knuckles and glaring. Fe was two steps away from the moron when he fell. I would have reacted after a second or two – whereby I allowed my brain to register what it was the bastard had said – but, since I didn't get that second, I was still looking rather bemused – Glorfy stood up for my honour? Since when? Jeeze, the way I act around him I would have thought that…alright, alright! Back to the story – I was still looking rather bemused when Fe walked up to Captain Arsehole, hands clenched at her side.
She growled, a look upon her face that would have embarrassed an erupting volcano into crystallizing rapidly. I realized what it was she was about to do – she made a none-too-subtle shift of weight to one foot and drew the other back. "You don't speak to my sister like that." With that, she let loose a kick to the groin that I'm sure would have lifted the guy right off the ground had he been standing. I had to wonder if Fe had ever played soccer and made a mental note to never get on her bad side if I could ever avoid it. I noticed several males in the near vicinity cringing – I didn't blame them. She drew back her foot to kick again as the Captain curled up in a little ball on the ground, hands between his legs and whimpering, when Gil-galad stopped her with a hand on the shoulder.
Wait…was he fingering her hair in a subtle manner? Hee hee! First Glorfy stood up for my honour (however much of it there is), now Gil-galad was fingering Fe's hair! Oh happiest of happy days! This was too much, but I suppressed a giggle, because at that moment there was a sharp pain in my skull. In the excitement, I'd forgotten about my headache.
"Enough, Anórmír, Glorfindel," he said. So that was Fiona's new name! I'd been wondering, and she hadn't told me yet. "I think he has learned his lesson." He leaned over the prone Captain, amusement present in his features, mixed with the pity only a male can have for another who has been kicked in the most tender of places. "Have you not, Captain Dúmassë?"
Had I heard that right? The guy's name was Dúmassë? Oh boy! That was too perfect! This time, I couldn't stop the snigger, and neither could Fe. We shared another look.
"Dumbass!" We said together and broke down into giggles that rapidly evolved in to full out laughter as the hilarity of the situation got us going. By the time Gil-galad and the others attempted to calm us down, we were leaning on each other for support with one hand each, the others clutching our bellies as we laughed and laughed.
A great deal of time later – after we had calmed down a little from our bout of the giggles – we ended up on the practice field. I guess Glorfy and His Royal Superiority Complex got the idea in their heads that we'd been sent by the Valar to help them in their battle against the Dark Lord and so we needed to be trained. I don't know where they got this from, as most of the discussion after the Captain was helped off to a tent I can't remember because I spent a great deal of it wishing everyone would just shut up due to a terribly sore skull which giggling hadn't helped. I was sorely tempted to blame Glorfy for giving me alcohol, but then, I did drink it. Blaming someone else wouldn't make the headache piss off.
In fact, I still had the headache by the time we made it to the practice field, although it'd subsided a little. This was largely to do with what happened just before we went out on the practice field, which I will explain now.
Captain Dúmassë arrived on the scene looking sullen and a little tender in some areas. He had a rather nasty black eye, thanks to Glorfy, and really wasn't at all pleased. I didn't blame him, and actually felt a little sorry for him, but hell…that's what he gets for calling me a whore when Fiona's around. If Fe hadn't been around, I would have handled it, but…I suppose I am a little bit…obvious at times. I guess I had it coming. Oh well. That thought wasn't going to stop me from having any more 'fun'…
The Captain handed some Elf – who, like his kin, was damned hot but as of yet had no name – two bundles, and then stalked off, although his walk was a little gingerly. The Elf handed us the bundles, which turned out to be some chain mail looking stuff and some tunics to go under, and then directed us to a tent which he said would likely be ours for the remainder of our say here. This was not at all like the tents that we'd spent the previous night in (i.e.: me in Glorfy's, Fe in Gilly's), and was actually a great deal smaller and nowhere near as comfortable, but we knew enough to keep our mouths shut on that particular point. At least the damned thing had partitions, for which Fe was thankful.
I, on the other hand, had spent a few years sharing a room with my two younger – and less modest – sisters. Changing in front of other people was a habit, and I didn't care much. A cursory yell of 'don't look unless you want to be blinded' is usually applied, or my all time favourite (and the one I used then), 'the bra's coming off!' The fact that Fe had shared a room with a younger sister didn't escape me, but she was always the more modest. I couldn't help but think that she should perhaps not be, and it became my secret mission to corrupt her to the ways of the taboo-free, but that was a thought for later.
Anyway, I began putting on the chain mail – which is damned cold, I might add, a fact they neglected to mention when they gave us the stuff – and had finally realized how the stuff was shaped, and that it was going to be a great deal of fun wearing it, and was picturing the look on Glorfy's face if he ever saw me in –
"I am not going out dressed like this!"
The indignant shout drew my attention away from the Elf of my affection and towards the partition, from where Fe had exclaimed. She threw back the curtain, and I suddenly grinned, headache forgotten for the moment.
"What's wrong with it?"
"It's indecent!"
"It's fun!"
"For you, Miss Walking-talking Hormone, but not for those of us who aren't always throwing themselves at every young man to walk by."
"I do not!" Only the hot ones! And that's usually because so many of them seem to not notice me anyway, I thought I might as well do something to remedy the situation and have fun at the same time. "Anyway," I continued, fighting a blush rather unsuccessfully. "If you knew it was indecent, why the hell did you put it on?"
See? This is what I meant by one of the other times that Fiona went that colour I was speaking of. It was all rather amusing, despite the pain behind the temples of my skull. Personally myself, I thought she looked rather fetching in that skimpy, chain mail get up. A little too 'bondage', really, but…
Honestly, it looked like something out of a Larry Elmore drawing. If you don't know who that is, I suggest you look him up.
"I cannot believe the Elves would clothe their female warriors in such," Fiona said, looking down again at the rather broad swaths of skin showing everywhere about her person. It was pale skin too, because she doesn't like going out in anything less than a t-shirt. Can't say that I blame her, what with that hole in the ozone over Australia.
"Did they even have female warriors?" I had to ask. This whole costume smacked of human males. I may have an active interest in them, but I still know that most of them are total bastards. So far, the complete opposite of all the male Elves we had met thus far.
"They do now," she said wryly and tried to get an idea about what the rest of her looked like by twisting around. The chain-mail bras were quite interesting – ultimate in under-wire. She patted her toned stomach and made some remark about how she was flubby. I told her to stop being such a wanty-paist and to quit her fussing.
Anyway, no one got to say any more – even though Fe was just about to change back into her borrowed clothes – because at that point, the Currently Unnamed Elf threw back the flap of the tent to let the sunlight in on two hardly dressed, newly Elvish women glaring at one another across the tent.
"If you take so long every day to prepare yourself, it will likely end in death, should an attack come..." the Elf trailed off, looking from one of us to the either. He cleared his throat. "Follow me." With an abrupt turn, he faced the other direction and his eyes glazed over. I noticed – though it may have just been the light – that his ears were a little pink.
You know how I said before how Gil-galad had a voice that was the epitome of silky sexiness? Well, now he's got a rival. Now if only I knew what his name was…
Of course, Fe wasn't having any of my Elf drooling and dragged me out into the sunshine, past the Currently Unnamed Elf, and likely against her better judgement because she'd just shouted that she'd never go out in public like this. It was truly a marvel that she was emerging from the tent, and I hope Gilly was going to be appreciative of the effort it took for her to step out.
Granted, she was also annoyed that she had even put the stuff on, and that probably didn't make her think, but…hey. My plot to rid her of taboos was progressing wonderfully, even if I hadn't really thought of how I was going to go about doing so yet. It had just been an idea…this was just helpful to that end.
We got the chance to see the reactions of the other Elves rather soon. A Man – with a smirk – handed us swords and pointed to the practice field. That sword was so friggin' heavy…how the hell did they expect us to fight with this thing? The other Elves just stared in shock, as though they'd never seen two females with so few garments on. They probably hadn't. Whatever. There's a first time for everything and everyone…
The Currently Unnamed Elf walked with us out to the field, glaring in the general direction of any who attempted to whistle or stare at us. This armour was not designed for practicality.
"I can't believe I'm in public dressed like this," Fiona said, leaning close to my head. I don't think she realized the view of her cleavage that she just presented to the entire camp when she bent over. I didn't tell her, knowing she'd never set foot outside ever again if I did.
"Just grin and bear it," I replied. "It could be a lot worse."
"How could this be worse?" she seemed slightly angry and more than a little self-conscious. I didn't blame her in the slightest, but I pushed my own uncertainty down and stared directly ahead.
I smirked wryly. "We could be naked."
The Currently Unnamed Elf stopped us in the middle of the field, and every man present gathered around to watch the proceedings. "I apologize for the armour," he said. "When Captain Dúmassë told me of the presence of armour for Ladies, I did not realize that this is what he meant."
"It's alright," I said for the both of us.
"For you, maybe," Fiona said in a sharp whisper, "but I actually feel like I am naked!"
"It is a bit drafty," I amended.
"A bit!"
"Just think of what Gil-galad will say when he sees you!" I whispered back cheerfully.
Fe gasped and looked around suddenly, scanning the ring of people, no doubt, for Gil-galad. "Oh god! Why did you have to make me think of that?" I grinned.
The Currently Unnamed Elf watched us, but made no remark on our whispered conversation. "I am Gildor," he began. So that's what his name was! "I will be your teacher in the art of swords. Where did you get those?" He gestured to the swords that the guy had handed us.
"That man over there handed them to us," Fe said, gesturing in the general direction of the guy who'd given them to us.
"They're farking heavy," I added.
Gildor looked them over. "They were made for men much bigger and stronger than you," he said after a quick assessment. He turned to another Elf and gave a command in Elvish. The Elf moved off.
"He will find swords more fit for you, as well as armour."
Both Fiona and I were relieved. Slinky armour is all well and fun and good, when it isn't nippy and windy, and there isn't a large ring of men watching and muttering their disappointment at the changes to the scene that Gildor was making. I suppose this was a taste of my own medicine – I didn't like it, but I recognized a chastising by fate when I saw it, and so kept my mouth shut.
It was that moment that Gil-galad, Elrond and Glorfy chose to show up, right when it was nice and predictable. We found this out because someone – with a damn sexy voice – bellowed, "What is the meaning of this?" at the top of his lungs. We turned around.
"We're learning the sword, your majesty, just as you ordered." I could tell Fiona was shocked…for once I paid some respect to his title! It was definitely a first. I just figured 'Your Royal Superiority Complex' wouldn't have gone over very well at that juncture in time.
"Where did you come by such armour?"
I noticed Fe was alternating between staring at the ground and staring at Gilly. Her face was also beet red and she was having trouble speaking. If this lasted much longer, she was going to pass out.
"The situation is already being remedied, my Lord," Gildor put in. "I have sent for some proper armour for the Ladies, as well as swords more fit for their build."
"Good, Gildor. Now, please tell me who was behind this."
The conversation between the two Elves switched to Elvish and Fe and I were at a loss to follow. I did, however, get some good Glorfy staring in, as he was right there and looking as damnably hot as ever. I guess I made him uncomfortable – his ears went a little pink and he kept swallowing a lot, looking everywhere but at me. Boy, this was fun!
After a moment, another Elf was sent, returning with speed with a rather annoyed and tender looking Captain Dúmassë. Even he could speak Elvish! This was unfair.
After a good long while, the Captain came over to us. "I'm sorry," he stated in a voice that clearly said that he wasn't, "that I insulted your honour by giving you such things to wear and by calling you a whore." At least, that's what I hope he said. By the end of it, he was grumbling and it was hard to make out his words. Ah whatever. I decided to give the guy a break.
"And I'm sorry for decking you. And for Fe kicking you in the balls. And for laughing at your name." He looked a little taken aback at this, so I grinned at him in what I hoped to be a disarming manner. Didn't work. He gave me a look, about faced, and marched off.
At that point, the other Elf returned with the new armour and swords, and we returned to the tent to change. This armour was actually a bit of a pain to get on and it took us quite a while to work out how the damn things were supposed to work.
By the end of this, Glorfy had to come in and help. After we had the under parts on. He absolutely refused to come into the tent until we both admitted that we were decent. And I mean actually decent. The one time I tried to get him to come in while I was still wearing as little as possible, Fe ruined by yelling "She's still naked!" at the top of her lungs for the whole camp to hear. There followed an argument between the two of us. It sounded something like this:
"How the hell would you know if I'm naked or not? Are you spying on me, Anórmír?" I uttered her Elvish name with more than a little sarcasm.
"I was not spying on you, Minaimîr!" Fe answered in much the same tone as I had just used.
"Yeah bloody right," was my response. I love getting her worked up like this…it doesn't take much. Of course, the downside to this is that she takes (quite rightly) full revenge by getting me worked up, and really, that takes even less effort than calling Gil-galad 'Uncle Gilly". But at the moment I was only being a tease, and hoped that she knew that. Or else I was going to be the victim of some major pranks later on. "You know you want my body."
"I do not!"
"I bet you do!"
"No! I want Gil-ga-" she stopped abruptly and I knew that she was cursing to herself and blushing like an idiot. For an instant, I wondered how many people were hanging out outside the tent listening to our rather unique argument. Poor Glorfy must be pink from his ears to his…Okay! Different thought now!
"Who do you want, Fiona?" I asked slyly. I knew I was pushing boundaries. Any moment she was going to fly through the partition and strangle me.
"Nobody," she answered as innocently as she could, but I just knew that she was lying.
"Sure, sure."
"You're such a bitch," she said, half giggling, half whining.
"Woof."
"Ladies?" Glorfy called from outside. "Are you yet decent?"
"Just about!" I called back.
"Almost!" Fe answered. "Rhiannon? Are you really decent?" she asked me suspiciously.
"You should know," I said, adjusting my borrowed tunic. "You're the one who's spying on me."
I heard a growl from the other side of the partition. "I am not spying on you changing!"
"Then why – "
"Anórmír, Minaimîr, you must hurry. Time is wasting. It is nearly time for the midday meal."
My stomach leaped at the thought of food and I realized that I hadn't eaten all day due to a hangover. Those damned things are nasty. Still, I rolled my eyes theatrically. "Sweet Jebebus! You are an impatient one, aren't you Glorfy?" I muttered. If he heard me, he did not answer, which was probably a good thing, come to think of it.
The partition moved aside to reveal a fully dressed Fiona. She came and stood beside me, back in the clothes that the Elves had provided for her.
"So," I began conversationally, as though our previous childish argument hadn't happened at all. "What's your name mean?"
It had the desired effect. She forgot all about our previous little argument and went straight to the Elf drooling.
"Sun-jewel," she said dreamily. "Because my hair is like the fires of Arien and yet the gold of the sun..." She stared off into space for a good long minute before starting and turning back to me, only to find my eyebrows nearly up in my hairline. "What does yours mean?" she asked guiltily, cheeks reddening.
"I haven't a clue," I replied. "Glorfy never told me, despite my asking."
"It's probably the Elvish equivalent of 'perverted moron'," Fe said jokingly to cover her embarrassment.
I grinned, though annoyed that I still didn't know. "Probably," I said. "Although, I guessed 'dumbass'. We're ready!" I added for Glorfy's benefit. He poked his head into the tent before coming the full way in, probably to make sure that we actually were and weren't trying to trick him in anyway. I didn't blame him – not in the slightest.
He did me first.
Get your mind out of the gutter! That is not what I meant, and you know it! What I did mean, for those of you who insist that I'm lying, was that he put my armour on for me first, more or less to show Fe how to do it on someone else. Whatever his reason, though, I was in heaven – or at least standing on cloud nine and rising fast.
Think of it from my perspective. Standing there, in Elvish clothing, with a bloody hot Elf less than a foot away, lifting your hair out of the way, brushing your skin with his fingers, explaining how to put armour on in a voice that leaves you breathless…I know I said that Gil-galad and Gildor would likely be fighting it out for the Silkiest Voice title, but really…Glorfindel was miles a head of them both. Now imagine he's adjusting the front, looking down at you with unbelievably clear, blue eyes, his golden hair held back from his face to reveal those deliciously pointed ears, falling down his shoulders like a silky curtain that you just want to tangle your fingers in…time seemed to stop all together, and I even forgot that Fe was in the tent watching…
At least, until she cleared her throat and I jumped about four feet in the air in surprise. Then time resumed its normal course and I was left rather breathless and stunned as Glorfy moved over to Fe and began to show me how to put this odd armour on another.
I did my best to pay attention – I really did. But when he turned back to me and said, "take it off," that just got my mind going again, and…
"Minaimîr!"
"What?" I've really got to stop jumping like that.
"Remove your armour. You must practice on one another now."
It really isn't good for a girl, to have the object of her affection tell her to remove her clothes when she knows full well that it's got nothing to do with…other things. It's not good at all. In spite of this, I began to take the stuff off, trying to remember the last thing he put on me. Can you guess what's coming next?
That's right! I got tangled, much to my dismay and to Fe's amusement. After hopping around the tent swearing my head off, trying to take of the breastplate, Glorfy took pity on me and helped. So that was how I came to be dressed and then undressed by the hottest Elf in the camp, all in one day.
And then, a miracle! Glorfy laughed! Well, it was more like a chuckle, but…music to my ears. "You are hopeless, Minaimîr," he said, still chuckling, the first real look of amusement I've seen in his eyes directed at me.
"Not my fault," I said sullenly. Hey…the guy may be laughing – finally – but he was still laughing at me. Ah what the hell? I made quite the hilarious sight, I had to admit. I giggled too. "You're right," I said after a moment. "I am."
"No argument here," Fe spoke up. I spun my tangled self, one arm jutting up into the air at what was a really painful angle, to look at her. She'd removed all of her armour, no problems. I stuck my tongue out at her.
Glorfindel continued to try and get me out of my armour (shut up!), muttering away to himself in Elvish. Eventually, my brain stopped functioning, and I just closed my eyes, listening to the sound of his voice, letting myself feel his touches until I was half asleep…and then…
"My Lord, Ladies," Gildor said as he pushed the flap aside. The delicious scent of…food wafted its way before him and my stomach let loose with a rather un-lady-like growl. I grinned at everyone, just as Fe's stomach repeated the noise, only louder.
"Sorry, my lords," she said. Always a stickler for formalities, that one. I, as one may guess, usually didn't bother. "My sister and I have not eaten for quite some time."
"By all means," Gildor said with a grin. "Please eat. You will need your strength in the trials ahead."
I was somewhat apprehensive about what Gildor meant by 'trials' – and really did want to smack him with the tray for interrupting my Elf drooling – but I was too hungry at that point to care. I started to walk towards Gildor, only to find my hair captured for an instant. I turned to see what had caught me but found nothing except Glorfindel standing with his hand's behind his back, a slight smile upon his lips. I shrugged and turned back. There was food near by, and I was hungry. All other thoughts could wait until later.
And they did wait until later. After we scarfed the food – I think it was beef, but I'm none too sure. I just know it tasted wonderful – Gildor had us put our armour back on (I paid better attention this time) and hand us a sword apiece. They were gorgeous, curving blades, sharp as hell and covered with runes. I wanted to cry.
"These are not the best swords," Gildor began. I shot him an incredulous look. Not the best? He was joking, right? "But I believe that they will do for the use that you have for them. Follow me."
We followed. As we approached the practice field, we became aware of the clang of sword on sword, or, at least, metal on metal. We couldn't see any of what was going on at that point, because there was a ring of men and Elves surrounding whoever was fighting. When we got closer, we pushed our way to the front of the crowd, largely because I couldn't see anything due to my lacking in the height department.
When we finally got through, we – the both of us – stopped dead in our tracks, chins dropping, eyes bulging. Never before has such a beautiful sight of male bodies ever been presented to us.
In the centre of the ring, fighting so fast that limbs and weapons were a blur of epic proportions, was Elrond and Gil-galad. The beauty and mastery of the fight wasn't the only thing that had us spell bound. Both of them fought, even in the nippy air, wearing nothing but a pair of well fitting leggings. The sight was enough to drive us to speak in unison once again.
"Hot DAMN!"