Story Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net)

Title: I don't know... (#2896)
Author: Hermit
Chapters: 3

Archive: Tolkien
Category: Alternate Universe (AU)
Description: Tired Glorfindel. Pissed Erestor. Very short, but not quite drabble. Somewhat amusing. NEW drabble. Rumil and Orophin visit the treetops. EVEN NEWER! Legolas visits a few friends. R&R...please....
Published: 22 Aug 2006
Updated: 25 Nov 2008
Warnings: none
Type: Humour
Characters: Erestor; Glorfindel; Rumil; Orophin;Legolas;Twins


Chapter 1 - Tired

Glorfindel sighed, and fought the urge to let his eyes glaze over and lose focus. He was tired, but it was hardly the appropriate time to be as such. Work needed to be completed and it cared very little that his eyelids grew heavy and his head tipped forward in exhaustion. Erestor seemed to care even less, if that were at all possible. And it did, in fact, seem possible. That much was clearly displayed by the cold glares and reprimands he shot Glorfindel’s way; as if daring him to sleep. Daring and promising something far worse than a few mounds of paperwork.

Hardly afraid of what the little Advisor could do, Glorfindel met each look with a huge grin and an even more impressive yawn.

Seven hours had passed in this manner.

It was about time for another “look”, Glorfindel decided, as he had been mentally timing the intervals between each and a pattern had arisen:

Erestor would loudly scratch away at his work, but every five minutes -give or take- he would glace up out of the corner of his eye. If Glorfindel was doing the same (working, that is) he would cough lightly and resume writing. But if not-

Thwack! Erestor brought his open palm down to loudly connect with the solid oak table they both ‘worked’ at. Then came the glare. And it being the third occurrence in a row, he spoke, “Why is it that I am nearly done with my work and you have yet to finish your first document? You have half less than I, and you began, at the very least, an hour before I even walked into this room. So why?”

Glorfindel tipped his head to the side and said with a slight yawn, “I’m tired.”

Erestor closed his eyes, and mentally counted to ten and back. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Glorfindel absently twirling his pen between his fingers. At the sight, Erestor wanted to tackle Glorfindel to the floor and throttle him. But he resisted. Just barely. And when he spoke, his voice retained the controlled, almost emotionless tone it always held, “I am tired as well, Glorfindel. But do you realize this could have been completely avoided if you had not waited until the night before the deadline to begin?” But as he continued, anger surfacing and irritation clearly evident, he lost some of his control. “It was given to you four months ago! How could you possibly ignore it this long?!”

Glorfindel nodded his head, but instead of the apology Erestor expected, he said, “It was quite easy, actually.”

Erestor groaned in exasperation, and gritted his teeth against hurling something heavy and sharp the Balrog Slayer’s way. “What have I done to the Valar do deserve such a punishment?” He muttered this to himself, not anticipating an answer.

He got one anyway, “Maybe they just don’t like you…” The pressure in Erestor’s jaw tightened. “And besides, you don’t have to help me. You volunteered, remember?”

Through clenched teeth Erestor, with his eyes narrowed and a very deadly expression twisting every feature, hissed, “I-did-not-volunteer.” He took a deep breath. “You blackmailed me. But that is not the reason why I am here.” He looked down at his work, and the sound of writing began again. Still he continued on, wanting to explain to Glorfindel his line of reasoning and make it perfectly clear. “You will not get this done alone, and if that should occur, it is I, NOT YOU, who will be on the receiving end of Elrond’s fury….” No answer. Erestor looked up and stared at Glorfindel in open-mouthed shock. Or at least he stared at the chair Glorfindel was suppose to be sitting in. Glorfindel was nowhere in sight.

Then he heard faint humming and Glorfindel appeared from behind a bookshelf.

Erestor took yet another steadying breath. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t’ know…”

That was it. Erestor abruptly shot out of his chair and pointed to the door with a hand shaking in pure rage. “Get out before I kill you!”

Glorfindel gave him a puzzled look, but when Erestor’s dark brown eyes locked with his own azure ones, he just shrugged and said, “Okay.”

Again, clearly not having expected that answer, Erestor sputtered and blinked rapidly. But when he regained some semblance of coherent speech, the Balrog slayer had vanished. Erestor sighed in defeat and took his seat, muttering to himself.

But it was only when he arranged himself comfortably and resumed his word did he realize that he had played into Glorfindel’s hand perfectly. “Damn him.”

Thwack! It was Erestor’s forehead that loudly hit the table, not his hand. And it was not once that it did this, but repeatedly. It clearly was not the first time the Balrog Slayer had pawned his work off on the Advisor.


Chapter 2 - Drunk

The light hit the trees, reflecting a golden-green light and making the leaves shimmer most beautifully. Rumil closed his eyes and tried to imprint the image in his mind. Memorize the sounds of the birds. Remember the feel of the wind. When he finally opened his eyes again, the Sun had chosen to move elsewhere and his brother stared openly at him, eyebrows furrowed and mouth frowning sharply.

“What in Mordor are you doing, Rumil?”

Rumil grinned and said in a sweet, completely oblivious voice, “I have no idea.” He began to whistle, but abruptly stopped and leaned over to where Orophin was perched on the tree branch next to him. Eyes squinted and head cocked, Rumil reached a hand out and plucked a stray leaf from his hair.

Holding it between his thumb and forefinger, he examined it for what seemed like an eternity. Then he let it go, watching- mesmerized- as it floated down the hundred or so feet it was to the ground.
There was a long silence between the two, until Rumil turned again to his brother and asked, “Is there any reason we're sitting out here?”

“I do not know. You tell me. You are the one who insisted dragging me here.”

“Oh…”

“So you mean to tell that you don’t know either?”

“Yup.”

“You are drunk, aren’t you?”

“Yup.”

“Mordor take you, Rumil.”

“It already has…”


Chapter 3 - An all out war...

An all out war:
Drabble number three.

*note from the author* As all of you know, or at least I assume, I do not own the Lord of the Rings. I merely enjoy toying with the characters. Reviews are much appreciated and welcomed!

Humming quietly to himself, he strolled along at a leisurely pace. He took the time to stop and admire the beauty that surrounded him, which he often failed to notice on many other occasions. A number of years had passed since his previous visit to the Last Homely House, and Legolas Greenleaf had greatly missed the well tended gardens of its Lord. They were a pleasant change of scenery from the caves of Mirkwood: the open air, the tall, magnificent trees, and the absence of man-eating spiders…

Another element that he had sorely missed was his long time friend and companion, Aragorn. Legolas had been informed that very morning that he was currently on patrol, and would not be returning for another day or so. And after nearly ten years, he supposed he could wait another day. After all, what was a day in the life of an Elf? A mere blip in the vast scope of eternity. These were his thoughts as he continued along his path. But they were soon interrupted. Rather loudly.

“You are by far the most idiotic creature that has ever walked the face of Arda!”

Legolas blinked, quickly assessing the situation before him. There stood the twin sons of Lord Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir. Faces inches apart and a snarl pulling both their lips, they looked as if they were preparing for an all out war.

The other twin seemed to snort, “I? The most idiotic? You, my brother, are that creature! I have never seen such sheer stupidity in all my years!”

“Why you-!”

What transpired next made Legolas gasp. In a blur of movement, one dark haired elf knocked the legs right out from under the other. He then pounced, pinning his brother to the ground. But soon the tables were turned as the one on the ground gripped a fist full of unbound hair and yanked.

“Do not pull my hair, you warg’s ass!”

“I’ll pull your hair as much as I damn well please! Get OFF me, you idiot!”

Legs and arms continued to flail and the shouting grew in volumes that soon hurt his delicate hearing. Legolas decided that he had one of two choices: He could walk away and avoid the possibility of seeing a kinslaying or he could stop them. Instead of turning and walking away-as any elf, man or other thinking creature would do in such a situation- he chose the latter of the two options.

The twins failed to notice their audience until he stood directly above them. “Cease this quarrel, both of you!” Both elves stopped their pummeling long enough to look up and the horror struck face of Legolas Greenleaf.

“Legolas? What are you doing here?” One of the twins asked in a surprisingly calm voice.

“Taking a stroll, were you?” The other questioned in a muffled grunt, as the side of his face was pressed into the dirt by the other’s boot

He looked at them for a moment, confusion spreading across his features, before he seemed to shake himself of it, “What YOU are doing, should be the question!”

There was a long moment of silence in which both twins appeared to think, then one replied with a small grin, “I don’t know.” He looked down at his brother, prodding him with his boot, “You?”

“No. Not really.” The answer was still muffled, as his face was still in the dirt.

“Then let him up!”

The calm twin shrugged and removed his boot from his brother’s face and untangled his fingers from raven hair. Then, after dusting off his tunic and leggings, he offered his brother a hand to his feet.

After being let up, the hand was gratefully accepted and he was soon standing. He too dusted the dirt from himself, before once again turning his attention to the elf standing before them. But his attention did not stay long. Elladan looked to Elrohir at nearly the exact same moment and grins slowly overtook their faces. Before the Prince of Mirkwood knew what hit him, he was tackled by both twins.

“What in the name of the Valar are you two doing?” He near screeched, his normally smooth elegant voice raised a number of octaves. But they did not answer and the scuffle continued.

Legolas hated Rivendel. He decided in that moment that he much rather preferred man-eating spiders to insane elf lords.


END!
------------------------------------------------------------------

Printed from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net) on Sat Nov 14, 2026 7:33 pm