LOTR sillyfic: "At the Edge of the World"
Jan. 5th, 2004 04:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
icepixieSomeone's been reading too much Silmarillion. That would be me. This bit of silliness inspired by God-knows-what, but Muse kicked me about, oh, fifteen minutes ago, and here it is--an unbetaed(but spell-checked!) 700 words of pure...I don't even know. Eeek.
DISCLAIMER: Tolkien is rolling in his grave right now. He won't want 'em back.
FEEDBACK/ARCHIVING: Write me at author1@comcast.net if you don't hate me after reading this. Archive if you like. Tell me if you do.
RATING: G.
CATEGORY: Humor. Definitely.
SUMMARY: Year 120 of the Fourth Age. Legolas and Gimli set off for Valinor. This is what they find.
NOTES: Um...I'm sorry? Please forgive me?
"At the Edge of the World"
by Icepixie, January 2004
* * *
"We're here, Gimli," Legolas Greenleaf said as he steered his grey ship into a dock at the Undying Lands. "This is Valinor." Legolas and the dwarf eagerly left the ship and stepped upon the white shore.
A white shore which they quickly discovered was not sand, but snow. Very cold snow. Even the famed resistant-to-all-weather Elven physiology was having a tough time with this one, and Gimli's beard formed icicles within only a few moments.
"Are you sure this is where we were supposed to land, elf?" Gimli shouted over the sudden roaring wind that had sprung up.
Legolas looked around, blinking at the onslaught of snowflakes that the wind had brought. "I know not what this is," he answered. "Perhaps we should venture further inland."
Thus agreed, the two friends traipsed through the snow in a general inland direction, though it was hard to tell with the blowing snow. The further they walked, the colder it got and the deeper the snow became. The only significant landmark they passed was a pole, about Legolas' height when he walked on top of the snow, with red and white stripes up the length of it and a gold knob on top. Neither elf nor dwarf knew what it could mean.
Eventually, they saw a light in the distance and hurried toward it--well, as much as Gimli, up to his chest in snow, could hurry. Finally, though, they reached the wooden dwelling and, deciding to disperse with the formalities before hypothermia became an option, opened the door.
Neither knew what they had expected, but it certainly wasn't a vast, cavernous room, lit warmly by firelight, filled with assembly lines worked by...elves?
Legolas blinked and looked closer. Was that Elrond down there putting a model train together? But the venerable elf was now only barely as tall as a hobbit, perhaps three and a half feet. And working beside, him, sewing clothes fit in size for a doll--was that Galadriel? And what were they all singing--something about bells and horses and sleigh rides, was it? They didn't sound very happy to be singing, not like elves had in Middle-Earth.
Gimli and Legolas exchanged glances. Something was very, very wrong.
Before they had time to ruminate further, a large, fat man in a red suit stepped in front of them. "Ho, ho, ho!" he cried. "Welcome to Valinor!"
Legolas stepped back involuntarily. "M--Manwë?" he half-whispered.
"Yes, indeed!" the jolly old man said. "Although the men of Earth--not Middle-Earth, but the full-sized one--know me as Santa Claus, Father Christmas, Kris Kringle, and many other names. I answer to all of them." He beamed at Legolas and Gimli, who were busily searching for escape routes while trying to be surreptitious about it. Both had noticed that the door they had come through had mysteriously disappeared.
Gimli decided that he'd had quite enough of this. "Well, it was very nice to meet you, Sir Vala, but we must depart. Places to be, orcs to kill...you know." Legolas was nodding enthusiastically, and they turned to leave. Through a wall, if necessary.
"Oh, but you've only just gotten here!" Manwë/Santa Claus said, sounding somewhat less jolly. "Besides, Legolas, you're already shrinking. Legolas turned to look at the old man in horror, noting that, indeed, his visual perspective was considerably lower. "Of course, master dwarf--I'm afraid I don't know your name, you weren't on our scheduled list of arrivals--you don't need to be any shorter than you are. You'll fit right in."
Legolas had taken on the look of a hunted animal. "What is this place? What have you done to us?"
Manwë/Santa smiled again. "Why, it's the Elvenhome, dear Legolas. Here you spend the rest of time making toys for the children of men, helping to put smiles on their little faces every Christmas morning, until the end of days. Ho, ho, ho!"
Legolas hadn't cried since the Second Age, but he felt like it now. He looked again at Gimli and saw despair in his friend's eyes. There was surely no way out of this one.
The End
So this is my first fic and new writing-fandom of the new year. I hope it isn't some kind of sign...
DISCLAIMER: Tolkien is rolling in his grave right now. He won't want 'em back.
FEEDBACK/ARCHIVING: Write me at author1@comcast.net if you don't hate me after reading this. Archive if you like. Tell me if you do.
RATING: G.
CATEGORY: Humor. Definitely.
SUMMARY: Year 120 of the Fourth Age. Legolas and Gimli set off for Valinor. This is what they find.
NOTES: Um...I'm sorry? Please forgive me?
"At the Edge of the World"
by Icepixie, January 2004
* * *
"We're here, Gimli," Legolas Greenleaf said as he steered his grey ship into a dock at the Undying Lands. "This is Valinor." Legolas and the dwarf eagerly left the ship and stepped upon the white shore.
A white shore which they quickly discovered was not sand, but snow. Very cold snow. Even the famed resistant-to-all-weather Elven physiology was having a tough time with this one, and Gimli's beard formed icicles within only a few moments.
"Are you sure this is where we were supposed to land, elf?" Gimli shouted over the sudden roaring wind that had sprung up.
Legolas looked around, blinking at the onslaught of snowflakes that the wind had brought. "I know not what this is," he answered. "Perhaps we should venture further inland."
Thus agreed, the two friends traipsed through the snow in a general inland direction, though it was hard to tell with the blowing snow. The further they walked, the colder it got and the deeper the snow became. The only significant landmark they passed was a pole, about Legolas' height when he walked on top of the snow, with red and white stripes up the length of it and a gold knob on top. Neither elf nor dwarf knew what it could mean.
Eventually, they saw a light in the distance and hurried toward it--well, as much as Gimli, up to his chest in snow, could hurry. Finally, though, they reached the wooden dwelling and, deciding to disperse with the formalities before hypothermia became an option, opened the door.
Neither knew what they had expected, but it certainly wasn't a vast, cavernous room, lit warmly by firelight, filled with assembly lines worked by...elves?
Legolas blinked and looked closer. Was that Elrond down there putting a model train together? But the venerable elf was now only barely as tall as a hobbit, perhaps three and a half feet. And working beside, him, sewing clothes fit in size for a doll--was that Galadriel? And what were they all singing--something about bells and horses and sleigh rides, was it? They didn't sound very happy to be singing, not like elves had in Middle-Earth.
Gimli and Legolas exchanged glances. Something was very, very wrong.
Before they had time to ruminate further, a large, fat man in a red suit stepped in front of them. "Ho, ho, ho!" he cried. "Welcome to Valinor!"
Legolas stepped back involuntarily. "M--Manwë?" he half-whispered.
"Yes, indeed!" the jolly old man said. "Although the men of Earth--not Middle-Earth, but the full-sized one--know me as Santa Claus, Father Christmas, Kris Kringle, and many other names. I answer to all of them." He beamed at Legolas and Gimli, who were busily searching for escape routes while trying to be surreptitious about it. Both had noticed that the door they had come through had mysteriously disappeared.
Gimli decided that he'd had quite enough of this. "Well, it was very nice to meet you, Sir Vala, but we must depart. Places to be, orcs to kill...you know." Legolas was nodding enthusiastically, and they turned to leave. Through a wall, if necessary.
"Oh, but you've only just gotten here!" Manwë/Santa Claus said, sounding somewhat less jolly. "Besides, Legolas, you're already shrinking. Legolas turned to look at the old man in horror, noting that, indeed, his visual perspective was considerably lower. "Of course, master dwarf--I'm afraid I don't know your name, you weren't on our scheduled list of arrivals--you don't need to be any shorter than you are. You'll fit right in."
Legolas had taken on the look of a hunted animal. "What is this place? What have you done to us?"
Manwë/Santa smiled again. "Why, it's the Elvenhome, dear Legolas. Here you spend the rest of time making toys for the children of men, helping to put smiles on their little faces every Christmas morning, until the end of days. Ho, ho, ho!"
Legolas hadn't cried since the Second Age, but he felt like it now. He looked again at Gimli and saw despair in his friend's eyes. There was surely no way out of this one.
So this is my first fic and new writing-fandom of the new year. I hope it isn't some kind of sign...
no subject
Date: 2004-01-08 01:25 pm (UTC)Gah. I need to reread FOTR, obviously.
Those, I think, come because he is descended of the kings of Numenor, which seem to have some sort of ties to the Elves, and it's only the kings that have that healing power.
Not really, because the elves had to hide the rings so that Sauron didn't know they existed. Also, they weren't forged by Sauron as the other rings were. But while I think the rings did harness some of the power, what happened in Rivendell and Lothlorien was more than just attributed to the rings.
I thought the rings were to sort of help an innate ruling power along, and in the case of the elven rings, to keep Lothlorien and Rivendell from the creeping crud of time. Although I think you're right, it would take more than your average person to wield the power of a ring, and I do remember that they had to hide them for a while or Sauron would come after them (even though he didn't forge/control the rings).
Those, I think, come because he is descended of the kings of Numenor, which seem to have some sort of ties to the Elves, and it's only the kings that have that healing power.
Another of the concessions to Elros and his line when he decided to be mortal, perhaps? I remember something about Elrond having healing powers (i.e. when Frodo's there), so perhaps it's an inherited thing that just happens to be another way to tell who's king, 'cause it's in that line.