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

Title: The Sacrifices of Friendship (#3295)
Author: peredhillover
Chapters: 2

Archive: Tolkien
Category: Lord of the Rings
Description: Legolas and Aragorn get themselves into trouble yet again...
Published: 31 Jan 2007
Updated: 12 Feb 2007
Warnings:
Type: Parody
Characters: Legolas, Aragorn, Elrond, Elone and Eltwo


Chapter 1 - The Idea

In the spirit of the old adage “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” I have decided to try my hand at a Legolas and Aragorn friendship fic. Hurray!

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I feel the over-whelming need to go take a shower.




Legolas whistled a merry tune as he made his way along the winding, tree lined trails. His heart was light and he was filled with joy, for he was on his way back to his second home, the last homely house, the beautiful, not-so-hidden haven of Rivendell. He found it a wonderful place to get away from the immense pressures and responsibilities he endured as the PRINCE of MIRKWOOD. He had many dear friends here, like the always good for a laugh and terribly mischievous twins; Lord Elrond, the kind and nurturing father-figure he didn’t have at home; and oh-so-serious, fastidious ol’ Erestor, who was always good for playing pranks on.

Now, however, Legolas had even more reason to be excited about his little holiday. Just a couple of decades ago Lord Elrond had decided to take in a stray, an orphaned little human boy, and, for some reason he still could not quite understand, he and the boy had become fast friends and the dearest of bosom buddies. Something was very different and special about this young mortal, and Legolas made a point of visiting him as often as his strenuous duties as the PRINCE of MIRKWOOD would allow, which, despite the fact that his own realm was becoming increasingly over-run by the evil of spawn of Mordor, was almost constantly.

Unfortunately, his ever-demanding father had called him back to MIRKWOOD for some dull defending his own kingdom stuff and he had been forced to be away from the home-of-his-heart for far too long. It had been almost two months since last he had walked amongst the beautiful trees of Rivendell and he could wait no longer to be back where he so clearly belonged. As soon as he had hastily dispensed with his boring responsibilities, he hopped on his most beloved and trusty steed and quickly returned again to Rivendell, for it was that easy to travel between the two realms.

Legolas paused from his thoughts and his forward momentum as suddenly the trees around him alerted him to the presence of another. “Who is there?” he called out tentatively. His hand rested on his knives, because one could never be too careful in these dark times.

With a graceful and near-soundless leap down from a near-by tree, a lodgepole pine, if Legolas was correct (and wood-elves always were about matters concerning trees) suddenly a tall, fair, dark-haired elf stood before him. Smiling broadly, the elf stepped forward and offered his hand. “Mae govannen, Legolas mellon nin! Welcome back! Your favourite room is ready for you as always. Ada had the maid turn down the sheets and leave a chocolate on your pillow.”

Legolas readily returned the smile. “I am most glad to be back. MIRKWOOD is so dark and gloomy it is best taken in small doses! Hannon le, Elladan.” Legolas paused for a moment and studied the elf before him. “Or is it Elrohir? You two are so alike, I can never tell you apart.”

The dark haired elf thought deeply for a moment and frowned. “You know, I am not quite certain myself.” Then, again, the smile returned to his fair elven face, for the twin Sons of Elrond were never ones to spend their time in serious thought for long, and with a shrug of his elven shoulders he added: “It is of little importance. We’re usually just around for comic relief anyway. Call me Elone, everyone else does.”

There was another soft thud and suddenly, a second identical dark-haired elf stood beside the first, for the twin Sons of Elrond were never apart for long. Legolas smiled brightly at the second twin. “Ah, Eltwo, it is ever so good to see you!”

After some idle chit-chat and catching up on the latest gossip of the many happenings in their respective kingdoms, Legolas looked around in concern. “Where is that little brother of yours? Rarely does he miss the opportunity to spend time with me! I have been away for too long and I have dearly missed his company.”

With that statement, Legolas paused for a moment, looking briefly confused (a state he was not wholly unaccustomed too) as he reflected: “For some reason, I, a high-bred elf of noble lineage and the PRINCE of MIRKWOOD, a realm quite literally under siege from the shadow, can seem to find nothing better to do than spend the vast majority of my time with that human youth.”

The two Els shared a concerned glance before Elone spoke, his voice deeply deep with worry. “I fear that he is in hiding someplace, most likely brooding. It is good you have come, Legolas, for Estel is sulking and he will speak to no one. Despite the fact we have raised him, cared for him, taught him and loved him as part of our family, you share a bond with him of which we have no part, and you are the only one who can help him.”

Upon hearing this ill news, Legolas too became deeply concerned. It was not uncommon for Aragorn to go off brooding, but once he started sulking, truly there was trouble. “Tell me what has happened.”

Eltwo eagerly responded, for this was big news: “Ada dropped the bombshell on him. I mean, the bomb. We have just recently returned from our latest jaunt into the wilds. It is a pity that you, as the PRINCE of MIRKWOOD, were too engaged with fighting the ever-growing darkness in your own realm to join us, for it was actually great fun…”

Here Eltwo paused, for Legolas was glaring at him in a most disconcerting manner, and Elone quickly took up the narrative: “Anyway, Estel returned here to Rivendell after great deeds in our company, and ada thought it was about time to come clean about the whole heir of Isildur thing. I fear that poor Estel did not take the news too kindly.”

Eltwo quickly added: “And who can blame him really? He just found out that we have all been lying to him lo these many years, and he is in fact the last remaining survivor in the line of Numenorean kings and now all he has to show for it is a really really old ring and a broken sword.”

Legolas frowned. He could just imagine what unpleasant angsty thoughts the poor boy must be thinking. He was deeply concerned for little Estel’s mental well-being, and he had to come to the aid of the dearest friend he had ever had in all the many centuries of his life!

He did wonder, however briefly, what, if anything, any of Estel’s apparently loving family had done about it. “And has Aragorn spoken to his mother of this?”

At first, the Els simply stared at him, their identical fair elven faces as blank as unblemished newly-fallen snow. Then, Eltwo voiced the question which deeply befuddled their fair elven minds: “Mother? What mother?”

“That is strange, I could have sworn that Aragorn had a mother around here somewhere.” With a dismissive wave of his hand and a shrug of his shoulders, Legolas continued: “Oh, well, it matters not. I will be the one to find Estel and bring him from the edge of despair, for I have a special bond with him in which no one else can share.”

This comment was accompanied by a protrusion of his tongue directed towards the Els, however, upon seeing the angry glares upon the fair elven faces of two identical very jealous elf lords, Legolas began to discretely lick his lips instead.


Legolas knew exactly where to find the young man because of their extra-special bond and the trueness of their deep abiding friendship. He quickly found Estel hiding out in the woods, sitting on a big rock overlooking a creek, moping.

Without turning to look at him, Aragorn spoke, a big pout marring his pretty young face: “Go away! I don’t want to talk to you! You’re a big liar, just like all the rest!”

Legolas looked truly hurt by this nasty accusation. “Estel, Estel, I thought you knew me better than that. We are the best buddies ever and I would never willingly deceive you, you know that. The whole cover-up thing was your father’s, pardon me, your foster-father’s, idea and he made me promise I wouldn’t tell you and you know that he can be, rather, well, intimidating when he gets that look…”

Aragorn, not able to remain angry at his BFF for long, turned to look at the elf with true angsty anguish in his eyes: “But they all lied to me, Legolas! They only cared for me and taught me and raised me because I am supposed to be a king or something. They don’t really love me, it was all an act!”

Placing an arm tenderly on the young man’s shoulder, Legolas responded: “Of course they love you! Everyone loves you!”

Leaning in closer to speak in a conspiratorial whisper, the elf added: “Except maybe those twin Sons of Elrond. They’re a little bit ‘off’ if you know what I mean. But all that really matters is that I love you!”

Suddenly looking around, Legolas quickly pulled his arm away and backed up a bit as he added hastily: “When I say ‘I love you’ I mean in that brotherly-love, strictly platonic friendship sort of a way, of course.”

Suddenly, Aragorn had a thought, which could only be a bad thing, and got that look in his eyes that Legolas had come to dread. “Legolas, if you really love me, you have to prove it!”

The elf eyed the youth suspiciously: “How?”

“You have to sneak out after curfew without telling my ada or anyone else, dash over to the Trollshaws and slay a couple of giant stone-trolls with me!” exclaimed Aragorn, growing ever more excited about his brilliant idea.

“Excuse me?”

“It is the only way that I can prove to them all that I am a mature, wise, fully grown-up man,” replied Aragorn, as he attempted to explain the utterly unexplainable. “Ada and my brothers are always coddling me. They are so over-protective, they always treat me like a child and they never let me do anything!” This statement was punctuated with a stomp of Aragorn’s large manly foot, and his voice grew ever higher and more whiny as he continued: “I want to prove to them that I am a man now!”

Legolas was forced to cover his delicately pointed ears in an attempt to protect his sensitive elven hearing from the near-deafening pitch of Aragorn’s angsty plea. While Aragorn was never known for his overly intelligent ideas, even Legolas had a hard time comprehending the sense of this one as questioned: “So, to prove that you are a man, you want to behave in an incredibly childish, and, dare I say, rather moronic fashion?”

Upon further reflection, however, Legolas added: “Hmmm, I suppose that would prove you are a man.”

Aragorn, thrilled that Legolas was finally seeing the sense of his words, nodded his head enthusiastically. “Exactly!” Pausing for a long, long moment to ponder his friends words more deeply, Aragorn’s expression turned to confusion as he added: “Hey, wait a minute…”

Legolas cut him off: “As a centuries old elf PRINCE, I do feel the need to be the voice of wisdom in this situation. Trolls are massive, mighty, extremely ferocious, and highly aggressive fighters. No elf in his right mind would willingly cross paths with one without the backup of a whole platoon of highly trained warriors, unless, of course, he happens to have a very powerful wizard along to help out. I do not think it so wise that the two of us go traipsing merrily through known troll territory in search of one of those beasts to fight on our own.”

Aragorn shook his head emphatically. “No. Not one. That is not nearly impressive enough. I really want to prove something. We have to take out at least two. We can do it,” Aragorn paused to count on his fingers, “that’s only one each.”

Seeing the rather skeptical look that stubbornly remained on his friends face, Estel really turned up the pout power, as, with his lower lip protruding expressively, he whined: “Don’t you want to help me? I thought you were supposed to be my best friend! Though I have no rational basis upon which to make this claim, I just know that I can do this! Don’t you have any faith in me?”

Aragorn was really going for the jugular with that one. Legolas, admitting defeat, responded reluctantly: “Of course I have faith in you, Estel. You know that because we share an extra special bond of friendship I would willingly do anything that you ask of me, no matter how absurd, as I have proven on so many occasions too numerous to count already.”

His countenance brightening noticeably, Legolas continued with a light wave of his hand and dismissive shrug of his shoulders. “Oh, what the heck? Of course I’ll do it! It sounds like fun. Besides, what harm could possibly come of it anyway?!?”




Yes, what harm could possibly come of it?
Will Legolas ever realize that going along with Aragorn’s hair-brained schemes is a mistake?
Will the Els ever figure out who is who and if they do, will anyone care?
Will anyone ever find Aragorn’s mother?
Will Rivendell, Middle Earth’s most popular resort destination, start charging per person based on double occupancy?
Will Aragorn ever get a clue?

To find out the answers to these and many other compelling questions you have not yet even thought to ask, leave a review!


Chapter 2 - The Return

“Ah hem.”

Elrond peered over the mountain of paperwork stacked rather precariously on his desk and shot his dark-haired advisor a look that would have made a lesser elf quail and flee in the direction from whence they had come, as he queried testily: “Erestor, are you the first elf in the history of Arda to come down with a cold, or are you merely trying to get my attention?”

“I am afraid that I am the bearer of ill tidings, my Lord,” replied Erestor gravely as he steadfastly stood his ground. Truth be told, the unfortunate advisor would have rather been anywhere else at that moment, for Elrond had one of his infamous headaches and he was in a rather foul mood. Of course, no one could really blame him for his temper, as Legolas was again in Imladris, and that could only be bad news for all concerned.

Elrond threw down his quill in disgust. Upon hearing of Legolas’s return, he had immediately locked himself in his office in an attempt to get as much work done as possible before the inevitable. He had not expected to be interrupted this soon, however, as usually he was given at least one day of reprieve. It had been less than ten hours since the elf prince had arrived. “What have they done now?”

“I am not quite certain, my Lord. I have just received a report from the border guards that the two were spotted limping back to Rivendell and that they looked to be in bad condition,” responded the always-somber advisor. “Shall I have them taken to their usual rooms in the healing ward?” Neither felt the need to specify who ‘they’ were.

“No,” said Elrond firmly without so much as a moment’s hesitation. “Have them brought here immediately.”

“Here, to your study?” asked Erestor, a hint of surprise in his voice. “Are you sure? There is every reason to believe that they are grievously injured. Again.”

“You heard me. Bring them here.”

Within minutes, the guilty-looking pair were standing before the elf lord’s desk as ordered. Aragorn had a make-shift bandage wrapped around his head, and seemed to be clutching his ribs as he moaned in pain. Legolas grimaced as he cradled his arm, which was bent most unnaturally in several directions.

Without so much as offering the two a seat, Elrond directed at them a look that would have brought anyone with the even the slightest hint of sense to their knees begging for forgiveness. “Dare I ask what ridiculous situation you two have gotten yourselves into and out of this time? No, don’t tell me, do let me guess … it is so much more fun that way! Let’s see…poison orc arrow?”

Legolas and Aragorn remained standing, leaning against each other in order to prop themselves up, as Aragorn replied with a roll of his eyes: “No, try harder.”

“You’re right, that’s far too simple. How about…mauled by wargs?”

“No.”

“Mugged by bandits?”

“No.”

“Sold into slavery by slave-traders?”

“No! That hasn’t happened since September.”

“Ah, of course. You got up close and personal with a dragon?”

“No.”

“Pushed off a cliff by crazy, deranged elves?”

“Nope, not this time.”

“Tortured by men who have an inexplicable desire to be evil?”

“No.”

“Sat on by a Mumakil?”

“No! Do not even go there!”

“Sorry. Burned by a criminal mastermind bent on taking over Bree?”

“No.”

“Captured by Haradrim and abandoned in the middle of a vast desert buried up to your necks in sand?”

“No.”

“Your ears chewed on by giant rabid beavers that mistook your head for wood?”

“NO! Don’t be ridiculous! That was last time.”

“Right you are. Hmm, let me think…beaten to a pulp by stone-trolls?”

“No…no, wait…yes!”

Elrond responded with a nod of his head and a single raised eyebrow: “Ah, a classic. Dare I ask exactly how, pray tell, you came to be beaten within an inch of your lives by trolls while you were supposed to remain safely here in Rivendell? Safe being a relative term, of course.”

Aragorn raised his head proudly as he looked Lord Elrond in the eyes directly: “You and everyone else here are always coddling me. You all treat me like a child and you never let me do what I want. Now I find out about this whole heir of Isildur thing, and I wanted to go out and prove to you all that I am a man now and that you could trust me to do things on my own.”

Now the second eyebrow joined the first as Elrond glared at his foster son with a look that would have caused a wiser man to run screaming from the room. “So, let me get this straight, in order to prove to your elders that you are mature enough for them to trust you in a position of responsibility, you decided it was a bright idea to sneak away like a naughty child without telling anyone and take on a bunch of mighty, ferocious, fearsome trolls on your own?”

Aragorn looked down, shrugging his shoulders and shuffling his feet. “I guess when you put it that way, it doesn’t sound like such a good idea after all.”

Elrond responded with a snort of derision. “Well, let’s put it this way, I don’t think that you should be winning any contests for this one.”

At this point, Legolas felt compelled to jump in and defend the honour of his best friend forever. “Now, now Elrond, don’t you think you are being a little hard on the lad? Think of his self-esteem. You are hurting his feelings!”

With an accusatory raise of his eyebrow and a disbelieving shake of his head, Elrond then turned his considerable consternation on Legolas: “Because of his inconceivably foolish and childish behaviour and your amazing lack of judgment, you were beaten to within an inch of your lives by trolls, and you’re worrying about his self-esteem!?! With his stunningly imbecilic actions he does not deserve to feel good about himself!”

Giving Legolas a look that would have caused an orc to repent from his evil ways, Elrond continued, his voice and his eyebrows both rising with his temper: “And you, a supposedly wise, mature, fully grown, many centuries old elf PRINCE who claims he is a friend to my young and obviously foolish foster son decided to go merrily along with this ill-conceived, harebrained scheme without enlisting aid because…because…?”

Legolas returned the indignant Elf Lord’s gaze defiantly as he responded boldly: “Because he asked it of me and I am his best friend, and an act of friendship is far more important than an act of sense…” Legolas’s voice trailed of weakly.

Elrond, eyebrows raised unnaturally high, shook his head at the utter inanity of it all and, with a deep sigh of resignation, asked: “Legolas, don’t you have something better you could be doing with your time than corrupting my son and encouraging his ludicrous ideas? Oh, like, perhaps, just maybe, being the PRINCE of MIRKWOOD?!?”

Legolas opened his mouth to reply, but Elrond quickly cut him off: “If you dare even try to make one single crack about my eyebrows, I swear by all that is good and holy you will regret it.” Legolas promptly shut his mouth.

Having remained silent for far too long, Aragorn felt the need to pipe up: “Ada, I know that you are angry with us, and perhaps it was not the best idea, and I promise that it won’t happen again, but we are badly injured and I am starting to feel quite woozy so do you think that you could, you know, heal us now?”

“No.”

Aragorn’s eyes widened in disbelief and his voice took on a truly whiny tone as he exclaimed: “No!?! But you always heal us! You are my ada and a healer and that is what you are supposed to do!”

Shooting Aragorn a look that would have made a wiser son go and heal himself, Elrond responded: “Well, no longer. I am not going to do it anymore. I am not going to work my fingers to the bone attempting to heal you and rescue you from your own stupidity yet again simply so you can go out and repeat the same mistakes over and over ad nauseam.”

“Don’t you see?” Elrond continued with a sigh. “It is always the same thing. You two go out and do something incredibly foolish and utterly senseless and inevitably get yourselves badly injured in the process. Then you come limping back here for me to heal you, which I repeatedly do, and we all have a nice opportunity to get all sad. After a brief period of angst, you two make the same highly original and stunningly humorous jibes about the awful taste of my medicinal tea. Then, within far too brief a time, you are up and repeating the whole process again, having learned nothing from your previous experiences. Well, I’m just not going to play anymore.”

Aragorn grabbed the arm of a chair to steady himself as he whined with a pout: “But we are badly hurt. Don’t you care? We could die!”

That’s just it,” replied Elrond as he casually crossed his arms and leaned against his desk. “Haven’t you two realized it by now? No matter what you do, you can not die.”

Seeing the disbelieving looks on two stunned faces, Elrond continued: “Let’s take, as but one example, a look at a typical week in the lives of Legolas and Aragorn. Hmm, how about the last time Legolas graced Rivendell with his presence? Let’s see…I believe, that on the first day of his arrival, the two of you decided to go on a nice simple little hunting trip, correct?” Two heads nodded in confirmation and Elrond continued: “Of course, nothing with you two can ever be that simple. You stumbled upon a den of orcs within the boundaries of Imladris that we were somehow unaware of, and, in a stroke of utter brilliance, you decided to go into the cave and investigate on your own. In the inevitable scuffle that resulted, Aragorn knocked out a support pillar with his sword, causing a cave-in and resulting in a boulder striking him in the head, rendering him unconscious.”

Aragorn rubbed his currently re-injured head at the recollection and Elrond continued with his narrative: “Then Legolas, carrying you to safety, attempted to jump a vast chasm in order to get away from the orcs, but he just barely missed the landing, causing him to fall fifty feet and breaking his back.”

“When you two were brought to the healing ward, we all grieved over your condition, as Aragorn had a severe concussion from which it was doubtful he would ever wake and, in my professional opinion, it appeared that Legolas would never walk again.”

“Well, you two quickly proved me wrong, as within hours, Aragorn was wide awake and good as new. Then, insisting that recovering from your paralysis was simply a case of ‘mind over matter,’ he decided to play a trick on you by lighting one of his awful pipes, hiding behind the door of your room, and yelling ‘FIRE’ at the top of his lungs. Well, defying all that made sense to me as the most gifted healer in all of Arda, you were immediately up and running.”

Aragorn giggled. “That was a funny one. You should have seen the look on your face, Legolas!”

Legolas glared at him. “You just couldn’t let me have my little moment of deep, profound angst, now could you?”

Shaking his head, Elrond took a deep breath before speaking again. “The next day, against my better judgment, you two decided to resume your hunting trip and as soon as you were outside Rivendell’s borders, you were promptly taken hostage by Legolas’s evil, psychotic, second cousin on his mother’s side.”

Aragorn shuddered at the recollection of the terribly terrible traumatic trauma. “There do seem to be an inordinate number of evil, psychotic elves around, don’t there?”

Without so much as a sideways glance, Elrond continued: “And, simply because he was so incredibly and utterly deranged and evil, he cut off Legolas’s right arm for the pure fun of it. Do you remember that one?”

Legolas, looking a little indignant at that question, responded haughtily: “Of course, I remember that! It was a great opportunity for angst.”

Elrond, with a look that would have brought profound fear to the hearts of saner men and elves, replied: “Oh yes, it was so terribly sad, and we all had a good cry over it, until, the very next day, when, defying all logic and the rules of nature, your arm somehow, miraculously, GREW BACK!!! And, may I add, it was stronger and better than ever.”

With a shrug of his shoulders and a smug look, Legolas replied: “What can I say? I have good genes.”

Elrond simply nodded his head in affirmation, for no level of idiocy could phase him any longer. “Ah ha, good genes, I see. And then, if I recall correctly, later that same day, you rose from your sickbed to join Estel in, pardon the pun, single-handedly eliminating an entire fleet of Corsair ships that had somehow made their way up the Bruinen and were threatening to attack Rivendell.”

“I couldn’t let my trifling injuries get in the way of defending Rivendell. I have a strong sense of duty,” Legolas explained proudly.

Elrond shot Legolas a look that would have sent all but the most brave or the most foolish running for cover. “A sense of duty that, unfortunately for the rest of us, does not seem to extend to your own kingdom!”

Without waiting for whatever highly intelligent response Legolas was going to offer, Elrond continued: “And, since the two of you once again went gaily skipping off alone to fight hundreds of pirates without thinking to enlist the aid of Glorfindel or any of the other highly trained Imladris warriors you had at your disposal, you did not escape that little escapade unscathed either. That time, it was Aragorn’s turn to suffer a grave injury as he was slashed through the chest by a cutlass which punctured his lung and grazed his heart.”

Aragorn grimaced. “Oh, yeah, I remember that! It really hurt.”

“I’m sure it did,” Elrond continued, “and Legolas and the Els and I had another terrific opportunity to get all sad and angsty as I laboured for hours to pull you from the very brink of death. Then, after one day of listening to you complain about how much you hated being confined to bed, you were up again, as good as new, running around Rivendell pulling a prank that, I believe, involved the pouring of a bucket of cold water on Elone’s, or was it Eltwo’s, head.”

Legolas sniggered at the memory. “Hee, hee, that one never gets old.”

Here now, Aragorn eagerly joined the conversation: “Oh, the bucket of water trick is okay, but nothing tops the ol’ dye in the shampoo prank. Remember the time we dyed Glorfindel’s hair green?”

“Oh, that was funny all right,” Legolas responded, “But not nearly as funny as the time we dyed his hair red. Red is a much more funny colour than green.”

Aragorn wrinkled his brows in deep thought. “Do you really think so? I have always been rather partial to purple myself…”

Elrond listened to the conversation for a brief while, temporarily fascinated by the absolute, utter inanity of it all, until he finally snapped: “Don’t you get it yet? Do you still fail to understand what I am saying? No matter what astoundingly stupid things you do, and no matter what happens to you as a result, YOUR ACTIONS NEVER HAVE ANY REAL CONSEQUENCES!!!”

“There is never any real drama in anything you do, because we always know exactly how it will turn out. Neither of you ever learn anything from your experiences, nor gain any wisdom, nor progress or change in any way. It is like the ultimate reset button,” said Elrond with a yawn, “And in all honesty, it is getting incredibly boring. It also makes it impossible for anyone to actually care about anything that happens to you two.”

Upon hearing this amazing little bit of insight, the pout once again returned to Aragorn’s fairly fair face, and he stomped his foot as he whined: “What do you mean, you don’t care?! You have to care because we are so great, and so wonderful and so hot…”

Elrond looked at him intently and, for once, it seemed as though he could in fact actually be a wise, noble and ancient being as he spoke: “Aragorn, Arathorn’s son, Lord of the Dunedain, listen to me! A great doom awaits you, either to rise above the height of all your fathers since the days of Elendil, or to fall into darkness with all that is left of your kin.”

This gained the attention of Aragorn and Legolas as finally they both fell silent and looked at Elrond with deeply stunned and confused expressions. Unfortunately, the respite was all too brief, as Aragorn, a look of utter bewilderment marring his pretty young face responded: “Huh? What in all Arda are you on about?”

Elrond returned Aragorn’s gaze with a hint of defiance in his voice. “I wanted to try something a little different. You know, behave like I am as noble and as fair in face as an elf-lord, as strong as a warrior, as wise as a wizard, as venerable as a king of dwarves, and as kind as summer. I am over six millennia old, and I have seen the greatest joys and the deepest sorrows the likes of which you could not conceive. I thought I should start trying to act like it. What do you think?”

Legolas narrowed his eyes in a suspicious squint as he studied the elf lord warily. “I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. This doesn’t work. People do not speak like this. Where did you get this dialogue from anyway?”

With a despondent slump of his shoulders, Elrond seemed much more subdued as he answered: “I thought it sounded pretty. I read it in a book somewhere.”

Aragorn, being a young and inexperienced mortal, was very confused by all this erudite talk with big words, and, besides, he was being ignored, so he piped up again, his voice a little petulant as he asked: “What does any of this have to do with me?”

Realizing the utter futility of his attempts, Elrond bowed his head in defeat as he answered deflatedly: “Obviously, not a lot.”

Aragorn looking far too full of himself, responded smugly: “I didn’t think so!” Then, turning to Legolas with that look in his eye again, he asked: “Hey Legolas, I’m tired of all this talk, what say we find the Els and take another little hunting trip?”

With a light wave of his hand and dismissive shrug of his shoulders, Legolas responded airily: “Sure, why not? It sounds like fun. Besides, what harm could possibly come of it anyway?”

The End???

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