Eep, sorry this took so long! Real life got in the way for a while and I've only just begun to get back into writing!
One short note, the character of Julian, which you reach him, I have pictured to speak like the comedian Alan Carr. If you want to hear him speak then look him up on Youtube. :)
A second short note! Warning! Here be swears and bad grammar! Tread carefully!
Anyways, reviews! Scroll past them if you aren't interested.
Meepalicious - Haha! No you didn't spell it right but I can only spell it because I saved it to my Microsoft Word dictionary! And Haldir is here!
AaylaKitofNiflheim - You forgot Merry and Pippin! :O And disco is but the tip of the Orcs' repetoire.
Vana Jedi - I like the scene. It may appear, if you don't mind.
androidilenya - Mwah ha ha!
trollalalala - She shall show her colours further here. Starting with a lovely shade of Ebony.
Certh - No problem! It fitted there very well!
GhostwriterRedux - Thank you! And I wouldn't count your Hobbits before they have eaten... Or some similar proverby thing...
Fayet - Thanks for the song! It shall be added to the list!
the Random Olliphaunt - Oh, Gollum! I am quite proud of him. And I shall add the Macarena to the list!
In the deep dark at the heart of the mountain, Gandalf sat up and fought through the mud to find Glamdring. His fingers closed around the hilt and he drew it from the mud and scouted around for the Balrog. He jumped as a voice boomed out of the darkness, the most unlikely voice he could possibly expect.
"Well, bugger me blind and call me a nancy!"
Light blossomed in the cavern. Not the fiery light of the Balrog's wrath but a dim, yellow candle-like light. The Balrog sat up and pressed two faintly glowing paws to its forehead.
"Oooh, me 'ead!" it gasped. "What were she all about then? Her with the glittery silver hair?"
"Issa pretty wood in here!" Pippin chirped. Galabríawenúthien sighed mournfully. Her long hair had magically turned a dark ebony colour in honour of Gandalf's passing.
"It is more than a pretty wood, Master Peregrin. It is the heart of Elvendom in Arda, my ancestral home," she said.
"I thought that was Rivendell?" Aragorn pointed out shrewdly. Since Gandalf's fall, he was the only sane one left in the Fellowship. He was curious as to why he hadn't fallen prey to Galabríawenúthien's powers. It was strange.
The long dark tresses shook angrily. "It is. As is Lórien," she snapped. She paused and listened, one hand elegantly cupping her ear.
"My kin approaches!" she whispered rapturously.
"Hmm?" Pippin asked and then froze as an bow appeared next to his head.
"The dwarf breathes so loud we could have-" Haldir began. He did not finish the sentence however, for upon seeing him, Galabríawenúthien sprinted flat out towards him and leapt on him with a cry of "HALDIR!"
Leggy's eyes filled with tears and his bottom lip trembled as she knocked Haldir to the ground and forcibly began to kiss him. She sat up and gazed down at him with open adoration.
"Oh Haldir," she sobbed.
His own gaze was one of pure, unadulterated fear.
"Not you," he said, his voice trembling with terror.
When they eventually began to make their way onwards again, Frodo could have sworn he saw Haldir tap another Elf on the shoulder and whisper, "Run on ahead and tell Lord Celeborn: Code Maria Susan."
The flet where the Lord and Lady of Lórien gave audiences was strangely deserted. In fact, the whole city seemed deserted. The Fellowship had not seen any other Elves save for Haldir's company.
Until now.
A door at the top of the stairs opened and a pair of pale hands shoved a quaking Elf down towards them.
"Uh, um," he stuttered. "Mae Govannen, travellers. I regret to inform you that a deadly virus plagues us. We are currently under quarantine so you will be unable to have an audience with the Lady Galadriel or the Lord Celeborn. Apologies."
"Oh! I must rush to their bedside! I shall nurse them personally!" Galabríawenúthien said dramatically and pressed a hand to her forehead. She attempted to scamper up the stairs but the Elf dodged backwards and forwards to block her path.
"I am afraid I cannot allow you to do that. The sickness is highly contagious," he said. She narrowed her eyes and stomped away.
"Follow me! I know where we can rest for the evening!" she called angrily. As the Fellowship trotted after her meekly, the Elf laid a hand on Aragorn's arm.
"Elessar," he said quietly. "My lady desires to speak with you urgently. Come to the mallorn that stands alone in a dell by the river. Ensure that no-one follows you."
Whistling innocently, Aragorn sauntered away from the Fellowship. He hesitated as he came across the forlorn figure of Leggy sitting under a bush, a harp clasped to his cheek. A low moan escaped Leggy's throat.
"Leggy?" Aragorn asked cautiously.
"She doesn't love me," he sighed. Aragorn looked over his shoulder to where Galabríawenúthien was busy comforting a howling Frodo. "She loves Haldir instead," Leggy continued. "But he could never love her the way I do, Aragorn. My passion for her burns. She is my light in this dark, dark world."
"That's nice," Aragorn said flatly.
"I've composed a ballad in her honour," Leggy added. "Would you like to hear it?"
Aragorn jumped as synthesiser music pumped from the bush as an accompaniment to Leggy's plucking.
"Never gonna give you up! Never gonna let you down! Never gonna run around and desert you!" Leggy warbled.
Aragorn backed away slowly. Elves were masters of music but some people should never sing.
Ever.
"Never gonna make you cry! Never gonna say goodbye! Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you!" Leggy screamed after him as he legged it.
It didn't take him long to locate the mallorn.
"Pssht!" a voice hissed behind him and he turned to see Lady Galadriel wrapped firmly in her grey cloak. "Were you followed?" she said. He shook his head and she walked swiftly towards the mallorn. She pushed a seemingly ordinary part of the trunk and the hidden door swung inwards.
The room inside was not what Aragorn expected. He did not know what to expect but the dank and smelly tavern was not it. He coughed as the thick smell of pipeweed and stale alcohol washed over them but Galadriel breezed into the mire as easy as she would with any room.
"It isn't much but she will never follow us here," she said darkly, nodding to the landlord as she passed. Aragorn followed her to a booth at the back. Amongst the elves slumped at the tables, he couldn't help but notice a handful of drunken Beornings and Rohirrim. They were a long way from home!
"I never imagined such a place to exist in Lórien," he said, sliding into the booth.
"It has its uses. And I personally believe that every city, no matter how great, needs a good pissy bar somewhere," she explained. "Now, what are we going to do about that creature that has attached itself to the Fellowship?"
"I, I don't know," Aragorn said. "Gandalf knew but then, then he fell..."
Galadriel gave an unladylike snort and flipped a hand. "Mithrandir, always so dramatic. Don't worry, the idiot isn't dead. I'm sure he will pop up again. But, what about her!"
She slammed a finger onto the table top to emphasize her point.
"Where did she come from?" he asked. Gandalf, alive? He dearly hoped so.
"I don't know. She just appeared one day, moping around after Haldir and making a general nuisance of herself. And then she stole a horse and went charging off towards the mountains and we thought we had seen the last of her," she said wearily. "Her mind is strange and I struggle to focus on it. There is one who could possibly know more."
"Saruman? Glorfindel rode to seek aid but..."
He faltered as Galadriel shook horribly. "Saruman's mind is tainted with both the power of the Ring and her influence. He is lost to us. No, I speak of another but last I heard, they were in Minas Tirith," she said thoughtfully. "We should hope that the road of Lord Glorfindel takes leads him to the White City."
A dark shadow of a figure crept between the mellyrn. It paused on the steps and watched the exchange between Frodo and Galadriel before gliding down the stairs when the duo had vanished. A pale finger prodded the water surface in the mirror.
"My lady? Are you there?" Galabríawenúthien asked breathily.
"Excuse me!" a peevish and rather nasal voice said. "I am the Mirror of Galadriel! If you want to speak with someone then I suggest you locate a Palantir!"
"Listen to me, you beaten piece of metal, do you have any idea what I am?!"
The small dell darkened. The vines creeping up the Mirror's pedestal withered and died and the water in the Mirror swirled into a deep dark ink.
"Uuuuuuh!" the Mirror said in a strangled voice. "I'll just see if I can connect you!"
"That is better," Galabríawenúthien said. The water cleared but the plants remained blackened and the dell darkened further as a voice boomed, "who da fuck is dis?"
"Tis I, my lady. Your loyal servant, Galabríawenúthien!" the elleth breathed. There was a small pause.
"Who?! Iz dis a prep?!" the voice demanded.
"No," she replied and then took a deep breath. "It's Silver Scarlet Hunter Drak'ness."
She hated the name her lady had given her.
"OH MY FUCKING SATAN! Konnichiwa, bitch!" the voice crowed. She winced.
"The Plan progresses, my lady. Nobody suspects my motives and I am slowly bringing everyone into our light."
"Silver?"
"Yes, my lady?"
"Why do you sound like a fucking prep?!1!"
"It is necessary. To blend in," Galabríawenúthien said through now gritted teeth. "I mean, OMG, I lyk hav to otherwise da stoopid preppy elfs will find out and da Plan will fail! I mean, I have to wear deese stoopid preppy clothes. I wish Middle Earth had a Hot Topic! I want proper clothes. What you wearing now?"
It was the right move. Her lady enthusiastically plunged into a lengthy description of each of the skimpy leather items of clothing she had on and then swiftly moved onto describing what her boyfriend Drako (whoever he was, Galabríawenúthien neither knew nor cared) was wearing.
"Wow, you sound kawaii," she said eventually in a pause of the babble.
"Thnx. Now, go do ur duty!" the voice said. The dell lightened and Galabríawenúthien was left tapping her fingers against the side of the Mirror.
"Moronic Goth," she said eventually and then swept off back to the Fellowship.
The next morning, the Fellowship gathered with the Galadhrim to receive their gifts. To keep up the illusion of the "disease", the ellyn all wore cloths over their mouths and Galadriel was heavily veiled. Still, she moved down the line with her usual grace and even Gimli was still enthralled with her.
She blatantly ignored Galabríawenúthien standing on the end of the line.
"Yo, Grandma!" she snapped when Galadriel glided straight past her. "Grandma, Granny, Granny, Nan, Nan, Nanna, Nannie, Noni, Nini, Gazza, Gran, Gran. HOI BITCH!"
The hood and veils turned slowly towards her. "Is there a problem?" Galadriel asked icily.
"My present?" Galabríawenúthien returned with equal frostiness.
Galadriel fished in her sleeve and pulled out a lacy handkerchief that she threw in Galabríawenúthien's rough direction.
"Here," she said dismissively. "It shall... it shall... grant you foresight. Or something like that."
"Thank you," Galabríawenúthien said reverently, examining the lacy detailing closely.
Gandalf sipped from the china tea cup and listened to his host politely.
"...I mean, it's like this giant pressure has just lifted from me head! Ever since those dwarves came tunnelling down here, I've had this ringing and this pressure in me head and now it's just gone! Poof! I can start me life again! Get out, see a bit o' Arda, maybe take a pottery class," the Balrog was saying.
"Really?" Gandalf said.
"Oh yes!"
"Well, don't you think they might be a bit surprised to see you..."
"Call me Julian, love."
Gandalf coughed into his tea. The Balrog- sorry, Julian- was thinking hard, his head resting on a paw.
"Can I call you summat else?" he asked. "Only Olórin is a bit of a mouthful."
Gandalf shrugged.
"Randy! Short for Mithrandir!" Julian announced. Gandalf choked on his tea again.
"No!" he spluttered.
"Why not? Randy Gandy! It's got a nice ring to it!"
"No. No. And I really must get going," Gandalf said, placing his teacup back on the saucer. "Where is the beginning of the Endless Stair?"
"Next to me Home Spa and Steam Room," Julian told him, pointing. "I just installed a stair-lift for me Nan when she visits so you needn't walk all the way up."
"Uh, thanks," Gandalf said as he stood.
"Come and visit me soon!" Julian trilled after him.
Why yes, Leggy just Rick-rolled you. :trollface:
To my American/maybeCanadianIdon'tknowifyouusetheword readers. I know that Randy is an actual name in the US but here in Blighty it is not a name. If you are randy then you are horny. Simple as.
Next time! The return of the Orcs and the fate of Glorfindel!
Until then, have a free pass to the Lonely Mallorn, the Only Pissy Bar of Lothlórien! *Onlyvalidforonedrinknotvalid duringHappyHourorduringnatio nalholidays*