Fellowship's Adventures with Rosy Palm & Her 5 Sis

Title: The Fellowship's Adventures with Rosy Palm and her Five Sisters
Author: Scooterkitty (maclir@sbcglobal.net) ringring: the Fellowship
Rating: R
Summary: I think the title pretty much speaks for itself.
Disclaimer: All characters and place names belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I just borrowed them to make them do naughty things.
Author's note: While I would not categorize this as humor (I'm just not that funny), it is certainly not meant to be taken too seriously. It's just a light-hearted, little piece of ... I don't know ... creative use of euphemisms.


3/20/03


THE FELLOWSHIP'S ADVENTURES WITH ROSY PALM AND HER FIVE SISTERS


The mountain of Caradhras loomed high above the Fellowship, malevolent and seemingly impassable. Frodo couldn't see how he and his Hobbit companions were possibly going to make it over that mountain, but Gandalf and Aragorn seemed confident that they could. The Ring-bearer could only trust in their judgment. He and the others had followed their lead so far. Frodo saw no reason to start second-guessing them now.

But he was already so tired and he knew the other Hobbits were as well, although none of them had said anything. And whether it was fatigue, stress, or something else, Frodo had noticed that tempers seemed to be growing rapidly shorter among the taller members of the company. The animosity between Legolas and Gimli, alone, had reached a level where Gandalf had been forced to send the Elf on ahead of the group, ostensibly to scout for Orcs, but really just to separate he and the Dwarf before they came to blows. This constant tension was beginning to wear on them all, until even Sam's boundless optimism was beginning to flag.

They had been walking since dawn with almost no breaks. It was now early afternoon and everyone was beginning to wilt. Glancing over his shoulder at the rest of the sullen, straggling companyndalndalf said, "When Legolas returns from his scouting trip, we'll start looking for a place to make camp. We'll get to bed early and get a good night's rest so that we can be fresh in the morning to start our ascent up the mountain."

Aragorn, who was walking beside the wizard, nodded in agreement. Frodo and the other Hobbits silently prayed that the Elf would return soon. And for once their prayers were answered as, within the half hour, the Elf appeared on the trail ahead of them.

"What news?" Gandalf asked, when the company had caught up to the archer.

"I saw and heard nothing," Legolas responded. "Nor do I sense any evil nearby. I believe we are safe, for the time being."

"Good. We are going to make camp. We will start up the mountain in the morning. Did you happen to notice any good campsites?"

"Yes, actually, I did. Further up the trail, at the foot of the mountains, there is a shallow cave with several large rocks around it. I think it would offer good shelter and possible cover. There is a small stream nearby as well."

"Excellent. How far is it?"

"Not far at all. Two, perhaps three, miles."

Frodo groaned inwardly at this news. Three miles may be 'not far at all' for an Elf, but it was for a Hobbit, especially an already foot-sore and hungry Hobbit. The Ring-bearer held his tongue and gave a resigned as as the Fellowship trudged onward.

~*~*~*~

An hour later, the company had found the spot that Legolas had described and had begun the preparations of setting up camp for the evening. Merry and Pippin had volunteered to go gather wood for a fire. While Frodo and Sam had said that they would fetch water from the stream. The four Hobbits left the campsite together. After a lengthy discussion with Gandalf, Legolas said something about wanting to scout the area one more time. Aragorn agreed with this idea and said that he would scout around as well. The two left the camp, heading in opposite directions. This left Gandalf, Gimili and Boromir to finish with the camp setup.

"Note that whenever there is work to be done, the Elf is conveniently not around to help," Gimli grumbled loudly, to no one in particular.

"Yes, well, I don't see Aragorn around either," Boromir pointed out.

Gandalf heaved a sigh. He had been listening to this sort of grumbling and back-biting for several days now and it was beginning to wear on even his legendary patience. The Istari was not immune to fatigue and irritability. His body, although immortal, was fallible and not indestructible. He too, was feeling the tension and weight of the mission, and at the moment, was in no mood to deal with the endless complaints of his two 'helpers'.

"Gimli, Boromir, why don't you two... just go," the wizard said. "Both of you, please leave. I will take care of setting up camp."

The Dwarf and the Man glanced at each other for a moment, but neither needed a second order. They each left the camp, headed in different directions. Gandalf sighed in relief and sank down on a nearby rock, enjoying the silence and privacy. He had thought they would never all leave. It had been a long time since he had had a few moments to himself. He planned to enjoy th
~
~*~*~*~

After scouting a mile or so in every direction and satisfying himself that there were no immediate threats close by, Legolas started back toward the campsite. Not being in any particular hurry to rejoin his traveling companions and remembering that he had seen a small, but fairly deep, pool fed by the stream he had mentioned to Gandalf earlier, the Elf decided to make a quick stop and indulge himself in the rare luxury of a bath. He couldn't even remember when he had last had the time, opportunity, resources, or privacy to engage in anything more satisfying than the briefest of ablutions.

The privacy part was actually not much of an issue to Legolas, as Elves were generally not known for their modesty in regards to nudity. But he was aware that other races were concerned about such things and so, in deference to his companions, he was much more discreet with bearing his body than would have been his norm.

The pool was located in a fairly secluded spot. It sat at the foot of the mountain, with the wall of the Redhorn creating a natural barrier on one side. Several large boulders and some stunted evergreens provided screens for the other sides. The basin of the pool was formed when the water of the stream filled a deep crevice that lay betwehe lhe large boulders, like a giant, oddly shaped, stone bowl.

Stripping his worn and dusty clothes off, Legolas slid his naked body into the cold water. As Elves were generally not affected by the elements, the archer found the icy temperature quite invigorating. Reaching up to remove the ties that bound his braids, he untangled the long, fair hair. Ducking his head under the deep water, he let his hair fan out around his head. He had no soap with which to wash it, but at least he could rinse away some of the dust and grime of their travels. Scrubbing himself clean as best he could for a few minutes, Legolas climbed out of the pool and stretched out on a large, reasonably flat boulder to let his skin dry in the late afternoon sun.

The Elf was lying on his stomach, enjoying the warmth of the sun-heated rock against his torso and legs. A light breeze ruffled the pale, damp hair and brushed the bared buttocks with phantom, feathery caresses. Half dozing, Legolas' mind drifted and the imaginary touches seemed to become more substantial, something like the light fondling of small, but nimble and naughty, hands. The faces of the company's four Hobbits flitted across the Elf's subconsciousness and he felt his body respond to the unbidden images.

The face down position rapidly grew uncomfortable and Legolas was forced to roll over onto his back to betterommoommodate his swelling loins. Lying quite still, the Elf reached out with all of his highly acute senses, searching for signs of imminent danger. There was nothing. Deciding to take advantage of this rare moment of privacy and security, Legolas closed his eyes and surrendered to his fantasies...

~*~*~*~

After filling all of the waterskins and a couple of cooking pans with water from the stream, Frodo and Sam helped Merry and Pippin gather firewood. There weren't a lot of large trees here, so the pickings were fairly slim. The four Hobbits had to spread out quite a bit in their search.

Frodo was walking alongside the stream. Up ahead of him, he saw that the water disappeared beneath a dense wall of tall evergreen shrubs. Thinking that, perhaps, there might be some dead wood near the shrubs, the young Hobbit moved closer. As he approached the wall of vegetation, he thought he saw a flash of movement, of something white beyond the bushes. Instantly the Hobbit froze, his heart beating rapidly. After several minutes with nothing untoward happening and he neither saw nor heard anything further, he inched closer to peer through the branches of the shrubs.

Frodo felt a hot flush creep up his neck to spread across his cheeks like fire through dry summer grass. And though he could see immediately that there was no danger lurking beyond the bushes, his racing heart did not slow. The young Hobbit found himself staring in unabashed fascination.

Noting his young master's preoccupation, Sam moved closer in curiosity.

"Mr. Frodo, what aou lou look-."

"Shhh," Frodo hissed softly, quickly turning and interrupting Sam's question.

"Are you all right?" Sam whispered in concern, se the the other Hobbit's flushed cheeks. "You haven't taken ill, have you?"

The Ring-bearer shook his head, then gestured for his friend to come closer, pressing an index finger to his lips as he did. Moving to stand beside the other Hobbit, Sam peered through the shrubs.

"Oh, my!" was all that the Gaffer's son could think to say, his own ample cheeks reddening.

Several yards behind the two Hobbit voyeurs, Merry and Pippin were beginning to feel left out. Glancing briefly at each other, they moved to stand behind their two friends.

"What are we looking at?" Pippin whispered, leaning close to Frodo.

Both Frodo and Sam jumped guiltily. Both had been so intent on the sight before them that they had completely forgotten that Merry and Pippin even existed. Stepping aside to allow the other two Hobbits to have a peek, Sam and Frodo beckoned Merry and Pippin forward to take their places.

"Whoa," Pippin breathed as he peered through the vegetation. Merry was wide-eyed and silent.

Lying, stretched out on his back, on a large boulder, only a few hundred feet away, was Legolas. The Elf wore no more clothes than a frog, as the Gaffer would have said, and his fair skin gleamed purest white in the late afternoon sun. His eyes were closed, his head tilted back slightly, and the barest notion of a smile teased the corners of his pale lips. His long, slender hands were moving lazily over his body. One hand lightly brushing across his nipples, while the other slid down one muscular thigh.

Without hesitation, Pippin started to unbutton his trousers. Merry quickly reached out to stay his friend's hands. The older Hobbit gave a slight shake of his head, then jerked it slightly towards Frodo and Sam. Merry wasn't sure if the other two Hobbits engaged in such activities and he didn't want to offend them. Although it was a common enough practice around their neck of the Shire. Tormenting the trouser trout was what Merry and his friends called it.

A soft, sighing whimper drew the attention of all four Hobbits back to the scene beyond the shrubs. The Elf had wrapped his hand around his stiff member and was gently stroking himself. His eyes were still closed, his lips slightly parted, and his breathing quick and shallow. He was the very image of male erotic beauty.

"We shouldn't be here," Sam whispered. "We should leave."

am'am's right," Frodo agreed. "Legolas wouldn't like us spying on him. Especially at this moment."

"But he'll never know that we saw him," Pippin pointed out.

"That's probably true..." Frodo said thoughtfully.

"It's still wrong," Sam said, although not sounding nearly as convinced as he had a moment ago.

The four Hobbits stood staring at each other for a long moment, none of them making any attempt to move, the soft sounds of the Elf's self-pleasure taunting them torturously. Finally Pippin could take no more.

"You go ahead and leave, I'm staying," he whispered, turning back toward the rocks and unbuttoning his trousers, fumbling in his need to reach his own straining penis.

With a shrug, Merry also turned back to the lovely scene, reaching for the waistband of his own trousers as he did. Frodo and Sam looked at each other for a moment before they, too, opted to join their friends.

~*~*~*~

With only the gentlest of mental nudges, it was easy to imagine that the hand that was gliding across his taut nipples belonged to some other member of the Fellowship. A soft sigh, escaped Legolas as his mind turned toward the tall, rugged Men of the company, the enigmatic, regal Aragorn and the proud, fierce Boromir. Both were fine examples of their race and both were most likely meticulous lovers. The Elf was sure that both were as exacting in the bedchamber as they were on the battlefield.

The thought of being dominated and manipulated by one, or both, of these unyielding Men soon had Legolas' already stiff member, throbbing with need. As one hand snaked down, almost of its own volition, to wrap around the straining shaft, a soft whimper tumbled from the Elf's lips...

~*~*~*~

After completing his own sweep of the vicinity and finding nothing to cause alarm, Aragorn turned back toward the camp. As he drew closer, he found his pace slowing, his feet suddenly reluctant to close that last distance. Deciding that he really needed more time alone, the Ranger skirted around the camp and headed eastward, the same direction in which Legolas had disappeared.

The Man knew that he really should return to the camp to help with the work, but he was feeling restless and irritable. There was no real cause for this feeling, except, of course, the natural tension of the mission, the constant threat of danger. And he was missing Arwen terribly. This was the worst of all. While he had been separated from her for long periods before, this was different. There was a very real chance that this time, he would not see her again.

His body physically ached to hold her, a bone-deep, burning pain that smoldered from within. Of course, it did not help matters that he had not had any kind of physical release in several weeks, not even self-manipulation. But with the mission and the situation with the company, there was never any time, opportunity, or privacy for such things. And while the mission was of the utmost importance, it did not change the fact that his body had certain ne He He knew that the neglect of those needs played a large part in his irritability of late. He wondered how the others were managing to cope with this, but considering the stress level around the camp, perhaps they were feeling the strain as well.

Thinking that perhaps, now, was as good an opportunity as he was likely to get any time soon, the Man looked around him, searching for signs of anyone else's presence. Concentrating intently as he was on his surroundings, the Ranger heard the faint sound of a soft whimper, as of someone in pain. Immediately worried that one of the Hobbits had strayed off alone and had gotten hurt (Valar, please not Frodo), all thoughts of his own needs instantly fled Aragorn's mind.

The sound seemed to have come from beyond a line of tall shrubs a short distance ahead of him. He moved cautiously toward them, unsure of what he would find. Reaching out to cautiously shift the vegetation just enough to allow him to peer through the greenery, the Ranger relaxed, a slow smile spreading across his face. Obviously he was not the only one who was feeling the need for release.

Most Men, who looked upon Elves for the first time, saw only their beauty. They saw only tall, angelic creatures, which seemed to be made entirely of purity and light. They never bothered to see beyond this first impression, to know these mysterious beings, to learn that they had the same desires and needs as Men. Having grown up among the Elves, Aragorn knew these things well. There was not an unattached Elf-maiden (or male for that matter) in all of Imladris who was safe from indecent propositions when Elladan and Elrohir were on the prowl.

Aragorn continued to smile as he stood watching Legolas touch himself. The Man had always thought his Elf-friend quite desirable and had long ago admitted to himself that if he were not involved with Arwen, he might have made a play for the lovely Sindar prince.

Raised by the notoriously arrogant and antagonistic Thranduil, Legolas was by nature, reserved and reticent, and strangers often perceived him as cold and aloof, much like his father. But seeing the young Elf now, with his inhibitions, and clothing, thrown aside, his hair loose and fanned out about him like a halo, Legolas looked as near to divine as Aragorn had ever personally witnessed. The Ranger felt his body responding to this image and he absently reached down to rub the front of his trousers.

Aragorn knew that Elves were not terribly concerned with modesty and if Legolas had truly wanted complete privacy, he would have found a more secluded spot. The Man strongly suspected that the Elf knew he was watching and Aragorn certainly did not want to offend his friend by turning away. Legolas was offering him beautiful inspiration for his own self-indulgence and the Ranger fully intended to enjoy it. Untying the front flaps of his trousers, he released his taut and swollen flesh.

What was the phrase that Elladan and Elrohir had always used to describe this? Ah yes, playing tug-o-war with the one-eyed monster. With a smile, Aragorn reached down and took said monster into hand.

~*~*~*~

Glad to be free of the constant presence of the others, Boromir walked along relishing his solitude. How long had it been since he had been able to enjoy more than a moment or two of privacy? Beyond the odd call of nature, there was almost always some member of the fellowship beside him. A person needed time to himself, to get his thoughts together and to ... see to his needs. If these things were not seen to, eventually a Man got edgy. And Boromir had certainly been feeling cranky of late. Although, he noted that so was the rest of the Fellowship. He suspected they all needed some time alone.

As he walked, Boromir heard the sound of running water ahead of him. He had been wandering through the dense, knee-high, brush for nearly three quarters of an hour and he was dusty and thirsty. Immediately before him was a line of tall shrubs. The sounds of the water were coming from beyond them. As he approached, he thought he heard another sound, something like the cross between a sigh and a whimper, a sound that spoke to the primed and frustrated Man of pleasures not yet fulfilled.

Curious, but still cautious, Boromir advanced slowly toward the bushes. Pushing a few branches aside, he peered into a small rocky space with a deep pool fed by a stream. Lying on one of the rocks was the company's Elven archer. Unabashedly naked and radiant, Legolas was engaged in an activity that any seasoned warrior understood and had indulged in himself. Many of the younger and more crude in Bin Boromir's battalion referred to this activity as doing battle with the purple-helmeted warrior.

As this was precisely what the Gondorian had been planning to do himself, once he had found the right spot, he could hardly fault the Elf for doing it. The Man was, however, a bit surprised. He would have thought Elves to be above such base acts. But he did have to admit that Legolas looked utterly amazing engaged in it.

Having lived amoardeardened warriors for most of his life, Boromir had seen Men do such things many times before. But he had never seen any of them look so beautiful doing it. With his eyes squeezed shut, his face flushed with pleasure, and his spine arched so high, the Man thought it must surely snap, the Elf was desire personified.

What am I doing? Boromir abruptly asked himself. I should not be watching this. This is wrong. I should leave at once. Legolas is a member of the company. He is of a different race, an Elf. He is... so beautiful.

The Man knew what his body needed and he desperately wanted to give in to that need, but he felt like a skulking coward, hiding as he was and watching the Elf. But the thought of tearing his eyes away from this exquisite sight was tantamount to the thought of tearing his own eyes out of their sockets. It simply was not going to happen. Resigning himself to his guilty voyeurism, Boromir told himself that Legolas had left himself vulnerable and open to possible attack, he needed someone to ... watch over him. Yes, there, the Man told himself, that sounded reasonable, didn't it?

Definitely feeling his own warrior straining for battle, Boromir gave in and undid his trousers. Freed at last, his firm length burst forth, demanding immediate attention.

~*~*~*~

Eyes closed, his breath coming in short pants, and his hand wringing every drop of pleasure from his body, Legolas let his mind drift as it chose. His thoughts had been filled with wonderfully satisfying images of Aragorn and Boromir's strong arms and hands roaming freely over his body and claiming him completely. But gradually the image shifted. The imagined groping hands became rougher and more calloused. The phantom face above his own became darker and harrier. An intense shudder of pleasure rippled through the Elf's body at this image... Gimli?!

Why were these sudden, unbidden thoughts of the Dwarf intensifying Legolas' response to the self-stimulation so much more than the thoughts of the others? Was it because there was more than just a little of the forbidden in such thoughts for an Elf? Was he simply succumbing to the natural curiosity of his people? He had never heard of any other Elf fantasizing about lying with a Dwarf before. Was this some depravity unique to himself? Regardless, he could not deny the affect these thoughts were having on him. He could feel himself rapidly approaching an imminently intense release...

~*~*~*~

Gimli stomped through the underbrush, grumbling quietly to himself. Dwarves were, by nature, fairly solitary creatures, so this new and constant fellowship was a bit of a strain to him. He couldn't remember when he had spent so much time in the company of others. He had certainly never spent so much time with members of other races. And then, of course, there was that damned Elf...

Always carrying on about his people and how superior they were, the Dwarf thought sourly. Always rubbing our faces in it. Always prancing on ahead of the group on those long, supple legs of his. Always flouncing all that long hair about, so that it flashed in the sun like fine strands of spun gold... Oh, Valar, where had that thought come from? The Dwarf asked himself, a bit alarmed. He gave his head a shake. He must be spending too much time away from his own people, if an Elf was starting to look good.

With a resigned sigh, Gimli had to admit, that as infuriating as the Elf could be, he was undeniably pleasant to look at. Of course, the big, tawny mountain cats that lived in the Lonely Mountains were also quite beautiful. That did not make them any less dangerous or unpredictable. A wise Dwarf would not bring such a creature home as a pet. How could he ever face his fellow Dwarves again, knowing that during this quest, deep in his heart, he had lusted after an Elf? not not just any Elf, no, a son of the hated Thranduil, the Elf-king who had imprisoned Gimli's own father, Gloin.

As he walked, the Dwarf let his mind indulge in fantasies where he confronted the maddening Elf and bested him in some contest or other and had the pleasure of having the Elf at his mercy. And while he kept telling himself that he would exact revenge for his father's tarnished honor, his subconsciousness kept betraying him and turning the mental image into something erotic and sexual. Instead of seeing the Elf's smug face contorted with pain and humiliation, Gimli's traitorous mind kept showing him a Legolas who was writhing in pleasure and moaning with ecstasy.

The Dwarf stopped abruptly, stilling his movements. For a moment a few of those moans had sounded disconcertingly real and very close by. Up ahead of him was a line of tall shrubs. He was fairly certain that the sound he had heard had come from that direction. Advancing toward the bushes as quietly as he could, Gimli reached out and shifted the branches to peer through.

"Oh," he breathed softly.

There, stretched out on the rocks before him, was his fantasy made flesh. Legolas was stretched out on a rock, naked and glorious, one hand moving purposefully along his rigid shaft. His back was arched gracefully and a slight sheen of sweat made his skin glisten in the dying sunlight. He was more beautiful than any jewel the Dwarf had ever seen. And the soft, panting whimpers the Elf was making were enough to drive Gimli out of his mind.

Positively possessed by the sheer wonder of the sight and sounds before him, Gimli began fumbling with his armor, trying to gain access to the ties of his leggings. At any other time this action would have been second nature, requiring only a very small portion of his concentration, but now suddenly he couldn't seem to make his fingers cooperate. They seemed cruelly determined to make it as difficult as possible for him to make contact with his already raging hard-on.

With a relieved sigh, the heavy cloth finally gave way and the Dwarf was able to take matters into hand, literally. Dusting the family jewels was the favored Dwarven euphemism for this activity. And with so few females Dwarves to go around, it was also a favored Dwarven pastime. But Gimli couldn't remember when was the last time that he had felt such an overriding need for it.

Synchronizing the strokes of his hand with that of the Elf's, Gimli soon found himself as out of breath as Legolas. It had been a long time since the Dwarf had had the luxury of engaging in this and he was finding the beautiful Elf more than inspiring. Legolas' soft cries were coming louder now, sending ripples of pleasure through Gimli's member with each one.

The Elf's body gave an abrupt jerk andffenffened momentarily, his back arching even higher, as his pearly white seed spilled out across the flat stomach. Then Legolas simply went limp, his body seeming to melt across the rock like the mountain snows in springtime. A sigh of profound satisfaction hissed from the pale lips, slightly curved in a smug smile.

~*~*~*~

Letting his hand drift lazily up to his stomach, Legolas slowly rubbed the still-warm semen across his skin, a slight smile playing about his lips. He was not usually so loud or so demonstrative with his self-pleasure, but being perfectly aware that he had an audience, he had risen for the performance. He hoped he had not disappointed the other members of the Fellowship. Perhaps now, the tensions of the camp would be eased a bit. The Elf decided that he would remain where he was for a little while and allow the others to compose themselves and return to the campsite first, each of them secure in his belief that the Elf had been unaware of their voyeurism. Glancing down at himself, las las thought, I could really use another quick bath anyway.

~*~*~*~

Having tidied himself up and straightened his clothing, Aragorn started back toward the camp. Passing another large clump of bushes, he came upon Boromir. The other Man was just settling his long, black leather vest back into place.

"Nature call," thedoridorian said casually.

Aragorn nodded his understanding and the two men fell into step together in companionable silence. They had only walked a short distance before they found the four Hobbits, who were busily loading up their arms with firewood and containers of water.

"Oh, here, let us give you a hand with those," the ranger said quickly, moving forward to take some of the waterskins from Frodo.

Boromir helped Merry and Pippin with their burdens of wood and the six companions returned to the camp. They found Gandalf seated on a rock before a small fire, contentedly smoking his pipe. He glanced up at them as the approached.

"Ah, there you all are. I was beginning to get worried," the wizard said. "What took you all so long?"

There was an incoherent noise of general mumbling as all six gave their soft, vague answers at once. Gandalf raised one shaggy, gray brow and nodded slightly, but made no comment.

"Well, I'd best get supper started," Sam said quickly, a slight blush creeping across his cheeks.

"I'lve yve you a hand," Frodo said.

"I'll just get the fire stoked up properly," said Boromir, kneeling beside the straggly fire to deposit his bundle of kindling.

"Yes and I'll get some of this water boiling," Aragorn said.

My, my, Gandalf thought to himself, what a difference an hour makes. Everyone seems to be getting along wonderfully all of a sudden. I do believe that I missed out on something.

Gimli came stumping into the camp, followed a few minutes later by Legolas. The wizard noted that at the Elf's arrival, the others paused in their various activities, all eyes turning to watch the archer's every graceful movement. Legolas, by contrast, seemed oblivious to their attentions. He stood off to the side, absently combing his long fingers through his still-damp hair. There was only one other rock near the campfire and it happened that both Legolas and Gimli moved to sit on it at the same moment. Both checked their movements, staring at each other. It was the Dwarf who quickly backed away, motioning for the Elf to take the seat.

Hmmm, curious, Gandalf mused silently. Only an hour earlier, I would have expected the two of them to be close to exchanging blows before giving up that rock to the other and now, nothing.

"I see you found the opportunity for a bath," the wizard observed, gesturing to the Elf's damp hair.

"Yes, I did and it was quite lovely," Les ans answered, smiling and beginning to rebraid the long hair.

Gandalf glanced around, noting that the others were all still staring at the Elf, their expressions almost hungry. Oh, yes, the wizard concluded, I definitely missed something.


~END~

* Yes, yes, I know, poor Gandalf missed the lovely performance. But I thought it was funnier to have someone get left out and, well, Gandalf was the logical choice. Hmm, maybe I'll have to write something that will make it up to him.