"What are you doing?!" A very shrill and all too familiar voice screeched as Aragorn looked down from the tall tower again, wondering if there were any moths around, "Get away from there!"
"I must leave this place!" Aragorn screamed back, and luckily, there was something fluttering around him, but instead of the normal brown fuzzy Middle Earth moths he was used to, it was quite small, yellow, with black stripes. Oh well, must be Earth moth. With a quick snap of the wrist, he caught it, and held it in an enclosed fist as Adhara stalked angrily over to him.
"You�re going to fall and break your neck!" She was telling him and pointing at the street below, "Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"
"Seems like pretty tall tower." Aragorn noted, and wanted her to go away so that he could see what kind of moth he had snatched, and besides, he didn�t think that talking to the moth then and there would have won him any points from her. "Alright, then, I think it is time to give up this foolish act."
"What foolish act?" Adhara snapped, angrily, "The only one here who is foolish is you! Why did you hack apart everything anyway? Can�t men be gentle, peace loving creatures? NO!" She groaned and looked him over, "Now you�re all soaking wet, and if you don�t come inside, you�ll catch a head cold and NO I do not have any Puffs in a green box to give you!"
"Give me a second." Aragorn was becoming frantic, the moth in his hand was growing quite angry, and kept on fluttering by his fingers, creating a slightly ticklish sensation. "I have to do some business." He waved his fist around, "BUSINESS." She gave him a skeptical look. "Three seconds?"
"Alright." She turned and was about to walk away, but paused and gave him a look a pure anguish, "You don�t plan to jump now, do you?"
"No. Not down there. Not even an elf could make it." Aragorn shook his head, and she looked more relieved. She was stupid anyway. Aragorn, son of Arathorn was not that stupid, although he was a little thick at times.
"Well, are you a moth or aren�t you a moth?" Feeling rather stupid, he opened his fingers a crack and stared at the little flying creature he had ensnared in his fingers, "Hmm." The little creature buzzed in response, and as Aragorn was debating whether or not this little dude could find the King of Eagles and rescue him from this awful prison, a small, but sharp stabbing pain rammed through his finger.
Aragorn, son of Arathorn did not stutter when the pain hit him. He was used to that kind of feeling. But then again, moths didn�t sting anyone. So this couldn�t possibly be a moth. Opening his hand, he found that the little creature had expired as suddenly as an old carton of milk. It just lay there. Dead. Must have squeezed it too hard. Oops.
"Aragorn?" It was Adhara again, but this time, she seemed to be at least civil, not screaming at the top of her lungs. He turned to face her, and held out the little dead bug. She stared at it. "Um, that�s a bee, Aragorn. And you don�t try to swat bees because they sting. And it seems this one stung you. Luckily you�re not allergic to them or else . . ." She trailed off.
"Or else what?" He wondered, and scratched at his neck which had suddenly become very itchy and stared at the red inflamed spot where a tiny thorn was impaled. Suddenly, breathing had become quite difficult and his breath came in little gasps, "I can�t breathe!"
"Oh no!" Adhara moaned, "You are allergic to bees!"
"I suppose so!" Aragorn squeaked and started scratching at his neck furiously, "What am I supposed to do?"
"Where is your Epipen?" She screamed, panicked, "You could die if you don�t have it!�
"My what?" Aragorn hollered, "I don�t have a pen!"
"Oh no!" Adhara looked around frantically as though an Epipen were lying around, "You need medical help! I must call the ambulance!" She whipped out her cellular phone, but quickly paled, "The battery�s dead!"
"We�re standing on the roof of a hospital, lady!" By now, the struggle to breathe was so painful, Aragorn, son of Arathorn was actually on his knees.
"Oh! Right!" She suddenly screamed, jumping up and down excitedly, "That�s so cool!"
"What?!" He gasped, "I don�t know what an allergic reaction is, but GET IT OFF ME!"
"Actually," Adhara paused for a split second, "An allergic reaction is just when your immune system overreacts to certain foreign proteins, called antigens, and your antibodies respond to it . . ."
He didn�t respond. He couldn�t respond.
"Well, from now on you should really carry an Epipen." She sighed, and as though suddenly remembering, grabbed his hand and half dragged him into some box she called an �elevator� which seemed to be descending into the depths of the tower. Aragorn stared at his surroundings. Maybe he should learn how to operate one and open a store catering to the needs of dwarves. And he was sure that elves were sick and tired of walking up ornate stairs as well. Ah, there was money to be made!
"We�re here!" Adhara exclaimed as the doors slid open and she pushed Aragorn towards some counter behind which a white-clad woman was sitting, "He�s in trouble!"
"Oh. I see." The woman behind the desk peered over the rim of her glasses and studied Aragorn, "Did you find him in a museum?"
"Yes! Yes! Anything!" She suddenly screamed, "He was stung by some bee and he�s allergic to them!"
"Does he have an Epipen?" The receptionist was still glaring, "Or a United Kingdom Heath Insurance Number?"
"Do you?" Adhara nudged Aragorn with an elbow, "You do, don�t you?"
"Um . . ." He somehow managed to stick a hand in his pocket and touch some dried leaves of kingsfoil, slowing the reaction down, "Sure I do."
"Well, then, sir," The nurse replied crisply, "What is it? I need it to process your visit."
"Um . . ." Aragorn frowned, and didn�t think it was the time or place to tell her that he didn�t have one. "I can�t seem to remember. Probably one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine."
"One-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine? Sure!" She repeated skeptically, "Really, now, sir!"
"Um . . ." He furrowed his brow and started to feel slightly faint again. Aragorn, son of Arathorn couldn't possibly expire here! He drew his cloak back slightly, so that his very long sword could be seen at his side, "I may not have a UK Health Insurance Number . . . But I DO have a sword!"
"Oh! Oh! OH!" The nurse looked quite flustered, and turned to Adhara, "Well, I suppose you can take him in. Examination room two."
"Smart move." Adhara whispered under her breath, as she grabbed his arm and maneuvered him down a long white hallway, "But even you can�t wave a sword in public."
The visit with the doctor was much shorter than what Aragorn was used to, but then again, his family doctor had always been his foster father, Lord Elrond, and he obviously, had always stayed for a little chat. This doctor, a woman, which Aragorn glared at and to whom Adhara gave an approving smile, basically stabbed some stick into his leg and gave him another, telling him to keep it with him in case he was ever stung again, all in one breath. Aragorn marveled at the fact that one could say so much in so little time. She left soon after.
"You see," Adhara explained as they walked out of the hospital and onto the busy street afterwards, "This is an Epipen." She uncapped an end of the instrument which did look like a ballpoint pen to reveal a cross between a sewing needle and a very small dagger, "It is filled with epinephrine, or adrenaline, whatever you wanna call it. If you are ever in trouble, just give it a quick stab to your upper leg. And you should be fine, as the hormone is injected directly into the bloodstream, the results occur almost immediately."
"Oh. Thanks." He shoved the pen into his deep pockets and as his fingers brushed against some dried kingsfoil leaves, he knew that the Epipen was a bunch of garbage. "Now where are we going?" He looked around at the bright lights of the many small cafes and the little quaint shops lining the street, and as it was getting late, there weren�t a lot of people around. Those that were walking the street were different from both he and Adhara. They wore strange clothing and returned the strange looks they gave.
"Don�t mind them." She muttered under her breath, "Muggles, every one of them. Couldn�t tell a wand from a twig."
"Oh." Aragorn muttered, "So, we are going to that school of yours?"
"No. We can�t. Not with you smelling like that." Adhara wrinkled her nose and Aragorn brushed his nose against the back of his sleeve. Funny. He couldn�t smell anything. "I�m taking you into the country. You�ll like it better there anyway. I�ll stick you in a nice little cottage which belongs to a friend of mine."
"Your friend?" Aragorn frowned, "Oh."
"She�s quite nice, and you�ll find you�re not the only guest." Adhara grinned, and pulled him into what seemed to be an alley ending with a brick wall, "You can take the train to get there. You�ll have to go by yourself though, I have to take care of Hogwarts for Sirius. Until he gets back."
"Other guests?" He could hardly dare to hope. Others from Middle Earth? "Really?"
"Um, no," She guessed his thoughts exactly, "They�re not from Middle Earth."
"Oh." He sighed.
"But I�m sure you�ll get along with them. I�ll send them a nice owl." Tapping on a series of bricks, and thus, emitting a large, but dark passageway, she pointed into it, "That leads to King�s Cross Station." He didn�t ask. "And there�s a platform you must get onto. Platform 9 �. Usually, it�s just for the Hogwarts Express, but now, during the summer, there are regular trains. You�ll be heading northward, there is only one train, you can�t miss it." Adhara handed him a rather worn piece of parchment, "It�s my monthly pass. It�ll let you on the train."
He gave her a skeptical look, "So, I get on a train . . . whatever that is . . . and it will take me somewhere?"
"Yes, at the end of the line." She nodded, "You will be met by someone . . . let�s see . . . most likely, another witch." Aragorn had had enough of magic by this time, "About my height, a little plumper, I don�t remember the last color she died her hair and . . . oh, her name�s Cecile, and she used to own some kind of apothecary with her grandfather. But I suggest you don�t mention that." Aragorn wondered if Adhara meant the name or the apothecary.
"Oh. So I just go through there." He pointed at the gateway, "And I will get there."
"Yes." She consulted her watch, "Your train leaves in fifteen minutes. Don�t be late."
"Alright." He nodded, and they parted with a firm handshake. Aragorn was about to step in through the dark passageway when Adhara turned down the alley, and walked back the way they had come. But before she could have possibly blended in with the people milling about, she was gone. He blinked quickly. What? But then again, he had seen stranger things. A train. What was a train? Whatever it was, Aragorn, son of Arathorn was not afraid of it! He took a deep breath and let the darkness consume him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Look at him. Look how ugly he is." Legolas giggled evilly, and fiddled with his binoculars which he had focused on a small party which had just arrived in Rivendell, "Braids his beard too. No fashion sense!"
"Well, not everyone is as pretty as you are, Legolas," Boromir rolled his eyes and winked at Sirius, who had his feet propped up on a low elven table, and was quite enjoying his stay at Rivendell. The party had arrived back at the House of Elrond a few hours before the Council was to start, and while the hobbits were resting in their own quarters, good ol� Lord Elrond had given the trio a bit of freedom, and Legolas had this great idea to go spy on some ugly beings.
"So ugly, maybe I should spit on him." The elf snarled, as he began to pace the balcony, "I don�t believe it! How could the guards let him in? His ugliness spoils the beauty of Rivendell! He is CONTAMINATING us all!"
"I think I�ll risk it." Sirius muttered, "Who is this ugly person? Haldir?"
"No, no, no, no, no!" Legolas laughed, "Even Haldir would be beautiful compared to HIM!"
"Who is this?" Boromir asked, looking up from polishing his shield, "It isn�t an elf, is it?"
"No, elves don�t have beards." Sirius remembered, "Dwarves do."
"Yes, whatever his name is, Gummy or something. Who would name their kid gummy?" Legolas laughed, "But then, who is so ugly! Well, maybe if he didn�t braid his beard and started to use REE cosmetics, he could be presentable."
"Gummy?" Boromir frowned, "I do not know of any dwarf named Gummy."
"And there�s that ugly old coot Gloin!" Legolas was peering through binoculars again, but then turned to the group, despair in his voice, "Why is everyone so ugly these days?"
Before the elf had a mental breakdown, Sirius suggested that they go for a nice visit with the hobbits. He added, "It may do a certain someone good to forget about ugliness for a moment."
"Oh! Visiting!" Legolas jumped up, excited, "I must do my hair!"
"Your hair is fine the way it is." Boromir muttered half-heartedly, for the elf would not listen, but grabbed his brush, perched prettily on a stool, and sang a song as he brushed at his hair, "The Council is soon."
"The COUNCIL?" The elf shrieked, eyes growing wide, "Oh Gosh! I forgot!" Throwing down his brush quickly, he ran to the closet and began pulling suit after suit of clothes out, "What will I wear?"
"I don�t think it matters." Sirius moaned, "What you are wearing now will be fine."
"Maybe this one . . . no . . ." Legolas tossed random articles of clothing onto the bed, and fussed at the closet, finally pulling out something he seemed to like, and held it in front of him as he posed in front of the mirror, "No, it doesn�t bring out the color of my eyes!"
"No one is going to care what color your eyes are." Boromir snarled, but the elf ignored him.
"And do you think I�ll have time to polish my dress boots and get a manicure?" He fluttered his eyelashes in the mirror, "And I have to get my eyelashes curled again!"
"Good for you." Sirius muttered under his breath.
"And maybe I should wear something . . . something that suggests Mirkwood . . . no . . . something that emphases my strong point, my pretty nose . . . or maybe something that makes me look skinnier. No, I need something that makes me look stronger, and I have to polish my bow!" He bit a fingernail nervously, "And my jewelry! What should I wear so I actually look wealthy, but not so much to suggest I am picky nor fickle. And a bit of powder . . . OH! I am developing a spot on my CHIN! Heaven Forbid!"
"This is folly." Boromir stood up, angrily, "Look, it doesn�t matter!"
"Oh yes it does!" Legolas grabbed a large jar of REE cosmetics, ripped the lid off, and began dabbling some white gel on his chin, supposedly where he thought the spot was. Finally, he paused and turned to his companions, "Are my ears pointy enough?"
"For pity�s sake!" Boromir screamed, "They are pointy enough to pierce any she-elf�s heart! Happy?!"
"No!" Legolas tossed off his boot, ripped off his sock and waved his toes around, "I need a toe ring!"
"No one is going to see your toes with those boots on, Legolas, unless Lord Elrond makes up go through boot inspection." Sirius muttered flatly.
"Ooh! Boot inspection!" The elf screamed, panicked, "I know! I must see Frodo and get the One Ring back! It may be evil, but I need a toe ring!" He paused, "No, I�ll use a silver toe ring. I have one of those. And it�ll better match my socks." Legolas finally sighed, as though exhausted, but suddenly, he caught sight of the large pile of clothes he had thrown out of the closet, and jumped to his feet in a panic, "And what will I wear?!"
"Back to square one." Sirius rolled his eyes, and looked at the elf�s rather extensive and expensive wardrobe, "How about easy matching. Such as a dark top with a dark bottom. Or a light top with a light bottom. Or maybe do the black and white thing, with a white top and a dark bottom or . . ." He threw up his hands, but quickly shoved them into the pile, and grabbed the first two articles of clothing he felt his fingers touch, and threw them at the elf. "There! That�s what you�re wearing!"
"Ooh!" The elf shrieked, excitedly, and grabbed the clothes and rushed into the washroom, screaming, "Oh Aragorn! You have such fashion sense! I�m going to look so good! I would have never thought of pairing a purple top with a purple bottom! Oh, and I have this little sliver head piece in here somewhere . . . and my toe ring . . . ah, there it is . . . and my navel ring . . . ah . . . and what�s this? Oh, my other toe ring and . . . My hair . . . oh, I have a perfect idea . . . and where are those little wooden beads?" The elf murmured to himself as he dug about his large trunk labeled Washroom which he had brought from Mirkwood.
"Folly." Boromir rolled his eyes and whispered to Sirius who grinned back. "It�s a pity we have to put up with him!"
"AHA!" The elf screamed, and flung open the door, "How do I look?"
"Err . . ." Both men stared at the elf. Then at each other. Then at the space between each other. Then back at the elf again.
Frankly, once again, Legolas looked his very pretty self in robes of deep plum purple that brought out the light sparkling in his eyes and his shimmering hair. Those booties had been polished until they shone, and somehow, he had managed to use both the eyelash curler and gave himself a manicure in less than five minutes. Not to mention his hair. Now, there, both Boromir and Sirius gawked at the wondrous sense of style this elf had, instead of braiding his customary locks of hair and tucking them behind an ear, he had somehow created some form of beaded airy creation, which for some reason, Sirius thought that if he tugged on an end, would spring into a knot. And atop his head was the perfect final touch to their elvish friend, a silver wreath of idealized leaves were placed upon his head, and Legolas smiled a dazzling smile.
"So, do I measure up to your standards?" Legolas grinned, "Now let�s go visiting!"
"Folly." Boromir rolled his eyes, "You look like you own Rivendell, Legolas!"
"I plan to, one day." The elf answered in a voice hushed with conspiracy, "I hear from my stock manager that the Elven Stock Market is going to rise quickly after the crash of last year and I bought all the REE stock I could afford. It was worth dust last year, but now . . . it�s worth more than this," He tapped the silver wreath, "I hear Lord Elrond is having some type of economic problem. Corruption in his staff."
"Oh." Sirius and Boromir nodded as they walked down the long hall, all three of them, taking up the entire width, and Legolas insisted on walking in the middle so that his clothing would not get caught on anything sticking out of the walls.
"Well," The elf muttered, "We�re going to see the hobbits and then Lord Elrond . . ."
"Maybe reverse that." Boromir added, and pointed to an approaching figure at the opposite end of the hall, "Look!"
The elf strained his little eyes and suddenly, the grew so wide, Sirius was ready to catch them if they were to fall out. "Yipes!" Legolas screeched and quickly ran back the way they had come without a further word.
"What�s wrong?" Boromir called back, but the elf had ran off at top speed, "Maybe found a split in his pants or something."
"No. He didn�t. It�s . . ." Sirius swallowed the rest of his sentence as Lord Elrond drew near and greeted them. Both Sirius and Boromir could not answer, for they were staring at the elven-lord. Frankly, they were staring at his clothes. The deep plum of his costume, the way he styled his hair and the silver wreath atop his head were too much. Sirius and Boromir dropped to the ground, laughing their heads off.
"What is so funny?" Lord Elrond gasped, in shock, "Aragorn!"
"Folly! Folly! Folly!" Boromir clutched his sides so furiously, as his laughing hurt them, "You�re so FUNNY!"
"What is so funny?" Lord Elrond exclaimed again, "What are you two doing?"
"Your clothing!" Sirius laughed, "Where did you get it?"
"REE." The elven lord frowned, "That�s where all elves get their clothing. Anyway, you two are late for the Council. I have come to find you!"
"Oh crap-a-munga!!" Boromir and Sirius straightened up immediately and quickly followed Elrond out of their quarters and to the Council.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"YOU ARE ALL DOOMED!" The elf lord paused, "Or something about doom. I forgot my cue cards." He shrugged, "Bring forth the ring, Frodo." Elrond had a style of starting a meeting, unlike any other person present at the Council, whom were all presently sitting in a small semi-circle outside, multi-colored leaves fluttering about them, and at their center, was a large stone pestle, to which the elf-lord now waved a hand.
Beside Gandalf the wizard, Frodo the hobbit was so nervous as he squirmed out of his chair (which was too high for him), he tripped over the wizard�s long staff and went sprawling across the ground, the ring flew out of his hand, flipped through the air, and the golden band smacked the nose of the dwarf which Legolas had pointed out earlier.
"Ouch!" The dwarf screamed and fell to his knees, and an older dwarf, Gloin, his father, tried to help his son grab the ring, which had lodged itself up the dwarf�s nostril, "Ouch!"
"AKK!" Elrond lost all composure and screamed, "Dwarf boogers on the One Ring!"
"Oh no!" Gloin tried to shove his axe (he wasn�t very bright) into his son�s nose to dislodge the Ring, "It�s stuck!"
"What�s stuck, the axe or the ring?" The younger dwarf screamed back, "I will NOT have a ring stuck up my nose!"
"I�m trying to get it out, dear," Gloin explained, and Elrond pushed him aside. "Would you rather have an axe?"
"I am an elf! Let me through! I can heal you!" The elven-lord screamed, pinching and pulling at the nose, "Boogers on the One Ring, why I�d never heard of such a scandal!"
"NEVER TRUST AN ELF!" Gloin�s son sprang to his feet and grabbed Elrond�s neck, shaking the elf as easily as though a twig, "I WILL BE DEAD BEFORE I GET HEALED BY AN ELF!"
"You big BULLY!" Frodo launched himself from his chair which he had climbed again, and sprang onto the dwarf�s head, and was pulling at random tuffs of hair, "GIVE ME BACK MY RING!"
"It�s not yours!" Sirius suddenly screamed, standing quickly, "You can not wield it! None of us can!"
"And what would a mere Ranger know of this matter?" Boromir snarled.
"That is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn." From the din of extracting a ring from a dwarf�s nose, a very silvery elven voice was heard as none other than elven prince of Mirkwood, Legolas Greenleaf walked into the Council�s semi-circle, light elven cloak fluttering in the breeze, and both Boromir and Sirius were relieved that their elven companion had decided to change out of his Elrond robes and had braided his hair again. Legolas walked over to them, but gave Boromir a steely look, "You owe him your allegiance."
"You said that last time. You can�t say things again. That�s tacky." Boromir smiled and they exchanged handshakes, and he added in a low voice, "You look quite . . . pretty."
"Ooh!" The elf exclaimed excitedly, "Thank you!"
"AHH!" The young dwarf was stumbling about, knocking chairs all over as Frodo clung onto his head and his father onto his nose, both trying to dislodge the One Ring, "HELP!"
"We ARE TRYING!" Gloin and Frodo screamed in unison as their patient tripped over the pestle and went flying across the room, and landed in a heap at Legolas�s feet, "Not another elf!"
"Another elf!" Legolas shoved his nose into the air, "Your presence is contaminating my air!" He pretended to choke, "Ah! Ah! Ah!"
"Hey!" Gloin growled, "Is that an insult?" He tried to shove the axe deeper, but his son moved, and his hand brushed against a fair elven boot.
"OH NO!" The owner of the fair elven boot screamed, and jumped backwards, into Elrond who had just righted himself, and the elven lord fell over again, dragging both Boromir and Sirius down with him. Another elven lord who happened to be there, wanted to go help Elrond up, but managed to trip over a big honking shield and smashed up his face against the stone pestle, "AHH! Blood! Guts! Gore!"
Thinking to save his clothing from further mess, and as all of the people at the council, a good two dozen of them, were all trying to help each other, and were tripping over each other, tossing chairs about, Legolas looked around desperately for a safe place. There. The pestle. He fought his way over to it, and hopped lightly aboard, gathering his cloak about him, as he watched the others struggle.
"HOLD STILL GIMLI!" Gloin was trying to shove another axe into his son�s nostril and from somewhere, three more hobbits had jumped out and were all pounding fists into Gimli, demanding that he return Frodo�s ring.
"It�s UP MY NOSE!" Gimli kept on insisting, "MY NOSE!"
"Okay! This is it! I�ve been putting it off for far too long! I regret to say, THIS IS THE END!" Elrond screamed, tearing himself away from the massive tangle of dwarfs, humans and elves, promptly hopping onto the pestle, and with a none-too-gentle sweep of the hand, knocked Legolas off his spot, "I cancel the Council! We will take this subject up once we get the One Ring and once we all settle down!"
"IT�S IN MY NOSE!" Gimli screamed in panic, and glared at Elrond, "Let�s see YOU CALM DOWN WITH A RING UP YOUR NOSE!" And as he couldn�t find a ring, he grabbed the next best thing, a small dagger, and shoved the hilt up Elrond�s nose.
"AKK!" The elven lord screamed, "I can�t get it out!"
"Exactly!" Gimli screamed back, "I can�t get the ring out either!"
"But at least you don�t have a blade sticking out of your nose!" Elrond hollered, "You have a ROUND ring!"
"You just have low pain tolerance!" The dwarf shoved his nose (with the Ring) into the air and went off running away from Elrond and all the dwarves followed him out of the little Council meeting.
"Oh my." Sirius stood and dusted off his robes, helping an elven lord to his feet, "I hope that dwarf�s okay."
"Don�t worry," Legolas shuttered, and dusted himself off, straightening his hair with delicate fingers, "If they have to cut open the nose for the ring, it won�t be too bad. The dwarf was darn ugly, anyway."
"Beauty is only skin deep!" An elven lord who happened to be walking past quoted wisely, "You must look deeper to find true beauty!"
"OH SHUT UP!" Legolas screamed and punched the other elf in the nose. The other elf fell to the ground with a thump, unconscious. He turned to his friends, "I hate it when people say that."
"Council. Tomorrow. Same time. Same place." Elrond growled to them as he stalked by (he still had the dagger up his nose), and upon noticing that his elven lord was lying at their feet with his face smashed in, Elrond gave them a dirty look, grabbed the fallen elf by the scruff of his neck, and dragged him away. "Be there."
Legolas sighed, "I hate it when people say that, too."