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[personal profile] rc45
Title: Dragon Fever
Author: (the name of the author is a victim of Trojie's appalling book-keeping)
MSTed by: Trojie
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: PLEASE TAKE NOTE: This is the first part of the MST of an NC17 slashfic. It's graphic. If you don't like slash, you're underage, or anything else, DON'T READ!


Agent Trojanhorse, accompanied by her uncanonicality sniffer-dog, Absinthe, and her friend Agent Gypsy from the Department of Mary Sues, entered the Theatre of MST. The two agents appeared to be arguing.
‘You won’t like it.’
‘How do you know I won’t like it?’
‘Because by dint of the fact that you work in the Sue dept., I’m guessing you’re not one for squelchy slash.’
‘Look, don’t worry about me. I’m fine.’
‘If you’re sure.’ Trojanhorse sat down. Absinthe scrambled up into her lap, and overflowed into the seat next to her as well. ‘Oof. Dog, you are getting too heavy to do this.’ Absinthe ignored her mistress, and promptly fell asleep. Gypsy continued;
‘Anyway, I’ve never MSTd before. It sounded fun.’
‘Oh, it is. Provided you’re not squeamish.

The projector flickered, then started.

Title: Dragon Fever
Author: Elfscribe, elfscribe5@yahoo.com
Pairing: Legolas/Aragorn; Legolas/Elwen; also Legolas/Smaug.

Trojie; Legolas/Aragorn, hmm, not too bad, can handle that one. Legolas/Elwen? Who the hell is Elwen?
Gypsy; That’s a girl’s name, right?
Trojie; Yep. No-one told me this was het. I don’t *do* het. And an OC . . . if this is a ‘Sue I’m going to be pissed. Not my field at all.
Gypsy; We’re missing the big thing here; Legolas/Smaug? I mean, how? How on *earth* could that work?
Trojie; Isn’t one of the Agents in Improbabilities married to a dragon, or something?
Gypsy; You know, I never quite worked up the courage to ask how that one worked either.

Rating: NC-17

Trojie; Like I said, if you’re squeamish . . .
Gypsy; I’m *fine*. Now shut up, I think we have a summary coming up.

Summary: Legolas tells Aragorn a story about a trip he once made to
Esgaroth (Lake-town) with his lover, Elwen, a Rivendell elf. But
something is rotten in Esgaroth and Legolas is forced to strike an unusual
bargain.
A mix of adventure, romance, humor, angst, and hot sex.

Gypsy; *blink* A mixture of *what*?
Trojie; No good can come of a summary like that. *Picks up remote* I’m going to fast forward.
Gypsy; You can do that?
Trojie; In this theatre I can; the projector’s hooked up to a VCR. Look, I skimmed through the Words earlier. I don’t need to sit through sixty-odd blowjobs, ok? And I don’t think you want to either.
Gypsy; Sixty-odd . . . Fast forward away!
Trojie; I’ll just skip the disclaimer. It’s pretty standard stuff anyway, and we’ve got a hundred and twenty pages of ‘adventure, romance, humor, angst, and hot sex’ to deal with.

Wipwipwipwipwipwipwipwip

Trojie; Ah, here we are;

****************

Chapter 1 - Brief Solace

Feb. 24, 3019 in the Third Age of Middle Earth

Gypsy; Timeline is good, right?
Trojie; Well it helps.

Aragorn bent over, examining the ground for tracks. They were looking
for traces of a path that would lead to the portage way around the
rapids of Sarn Gebir. Legolas stood behind him, leaning lightly on his bow.

Gypsy; Isn’t that liable to damage it. Or at least warp it?
Trojie; I would have thought so. It’s a weapon, not a walking stick.
Gypsy; Hmmm . . .

"You know it’s quite distracting when you bend over like that," Legolas
said, with a smile.

Trojie; *tilts head* He’s right, you know.
Gypsy; Isn’t that a bit unprofessional?
Trojie; Hey, just admiring the view. Anyway, at least my lust-targets are all sentient.
Gypsy; What?
Trojie; Lasa and Mombi told me about your droolfest over Serenity.
Gypsy; I do not lust after Serenity! That’s ridiculous. She’s a spaceship!
Trojie; *raises eyebrows*
Gypsy; *blushing* Oh, just shut up and watch the fic.

"Then, don’t stand behind me, elf," Aragorn growled. He straightened
up. "Let’s try climbing this ridge. I’ll wager we’ll see the trail from
up there."

Trojie; (as Legolas) Take your wager, raise you three acorns.
Gypsy; So that’s how they passed the time. Gambling.

They threaded their way through a maze of limestone boulders and clumps
of thick bushes. The land was silent, except for the occasional harsh
croak of a raven. Their footsteps, even soundless as an elf and a ranger
could make them, still crunched loudly in Legolas’s ears. The elf
turned his head this way and that, scrying

Trojie; Since when do Elves ‘scry’? Scrying is generic Fantasyland or Tortall magic, and Arda doesn’t have that . . .
Gypsy; Ssh. I’m trying to listen for these soundless footsteps.

for danger. He sensed small pinpricks of warning, but they were still far distant.

Gypsy; I thought only the high up important Elves from long ago were prescient?
Trojie; It’s *kind* of canon, and definitely fanon, that Elves are all equipped with the ‘early warning’ sixth-sense. But still; pinpricks? *Where*?
Gypsy; *sighs* Only a Bad Slasher would ask that.
Trojie; Mind out of the gutter young lady, I was thinking nothing of the sort!

Much stronger he sensed Aragorn’s fear and doubt. He longed to reach
out to him, take him in his arms. But Aragorn seemed determined to keep
to himself. After those glorious two days of lovemaking in the hidden
talan of Vilyamar in Lothlórien, Aragorn had not once touched him.
Legolas knew Aragorn did not wish to reveal their relationship to the rest of
the Fellowship. That, as well as the tension within the group, troubled
Legolas. But, he had decided, his role was to follow Aragorn’s lead,
unquestioningly. He took on that role when he had pledged to become
ohtarnil* to Aragorn at Vilyamar.

Trojie; *blinks* Those asterisks are blinding. Like fairy-lights crossed with the bulb out of a scanner. Ouch.
Gypsy; *mouth open in surprise* Ohtarnil? I know I’ve only done basic Middle-Earth training, but I don’t remember that one.
Trojie; *mouthing words quietly* warrior . . . warrior friend? Warrior love? Blargh, my Elvish is rusty. Both of my Elvishes.

An ohtarnil was a warrior bound to another by an oath of love.

Trojie; Ah, that clears things up . . . no, wait, that’s still completely random.
Gypsy; I really agree.

Legolas wondered when the elves first had developed this tradition?

Trojie; I wonder too.
Gypsy; Sometime after the Fanfic Explosion, when hordes of fourteen year old girls suddenly needed excuses to get Aragorn and Legolas into bed?
Trojie; Sounds convincing to me. Poor Elves.

Love and war were such opposite concepts. During a war, the opportunities for
lovemaking were scant, as all energy seemed focused on preventing death, or
dealing it out.

Trojie; Well that’s logical, at least.
Gypsy; (as massed fourteen-year-old-fangirl-ficcers) But no! Aragorn shagging Legolas before fighting off hordes of Orcs is so hot! Why does war always have to be so *serious*?
Trojie; You know, that fangirl voice of yours is uncanny . . .

But perhaps the elves of the Elder Days were wise after all, seasoned from the war with Morgoth, of whom the dark lord Sauron was but a servant. Perhaps, in the midst of brutality, one needed a respite, a tender touch, the knowledge that there were things worth
fighting and dying for.

Trojie; Wonderful opportunity for the Orcs to burst in and kill the troops though.
Gypsy; Ssh. No logic.
Trojie; If I relinquish my logic I become like her. I shall never let go of my logic!

What he wouldn’t give for days of peace, where he could linger under
the trees, stroking Estel,

Gypsy; (as Legolas) Good Estel. Oosagoodboyden?
Trojie; (as Legolas) And you shall have a bone.

taking time to leisurely make love to him!

Trojie; Soul would be on fire by now. That’s really quite ungrammatical.
Gypsy; *shivers* I don’t know how you can work with her. She’s scary.

Ironically, Legolas knew, if days of peace came to pass, he would lose
Aragorn to another.

Trojie; Ah; this would be Arwen? Whom Aragorn is in fact cheating on, never mind all this talk of warrior bonding and masculine in-group rituals-
Gypsy;-co-incidentally involving orgies-
Trojie;- supposedly invented by the Elves. The fact of the matter is; one Elf, one partner. That’s all the maths we need to do.
Gypsy; That’s good. My maths is terrible.

The expression of his love was only possible while all the world lay in deadly peril; and while they were in peril, he could not express his love.

Gypsy; Ooh, now there’s a catch.
Trojie; Not if you’re a slash writer of this *calibre*. *Snort*. You just make them shag really fast and make all your other characters oblivious.

He sighed heavily.

Aragorn stopped and looked back at him. "What’s wrong, Legolas?" he
asked.

Trojie; (as Legolas) I am frustrated because I can’t have sex with you. Oh, wait, no there’s something else . . . hmm, could it be the ultimate peril hanging over us and the sad fate of millions should we fail in our task? Nah. I’m just horny.

"Nothing, why do you ask?"

"I heard you sigh."

"You hear naught but the wind’s fleeting lament, my captain,"

Gypsy; Aargh, BagEnders ‘Strider; Scoutmaster’ flashbacks! He’s channeling Bottle!
Trojie; Ok, breathe. No more jelly babies for you.

Legolas said, coming close to him. Aragorn brushed the back of his hand gently
along Legolas’s cheek, a look of infinite tenderness in his eyes. The
elf felt his heart sing at his touch.

Gypsy; Don’t you tend to *hear* singing?
Trojie; Now who’s trying to apply logic?

Was that all he could hope for? An occasional gentle touch, when no one was looking? Aragorn turned and continued up the slope. They struggled through a small thicket, finally
freeing themselves from the clinging branches, and burst onto the ridge
top.

Trojie; Wouldn’t it be more sensible to go *around* the thicket? Given that thickets tend to be small agglomerations of vegetation, and because they’re within a few feet of a ridge . . . hang on, why is there a thicket there in the first place? Alpine vegetation is generally herbaceous and low-growing!
Gypsy; And again; logic? Hello pot, my name’s kettle. Call me black.

Legolas shaded his eyes, scanning the landscape for evidence of the
path. On their left, he could see the great Anduin river, with white spots
revealing the turbulence of the Sarn Gebir rapids. On the right, the
land widened to a flat, boulder-strewn wilderness. Not much cover here,
Legolas thought. We shouldn’t stay too long in this exposed spot.

Trojie; Aha, finally Legolas shows some sense.
Gypsy; Don’t think it’s going to last, though.

"There," the elven prince exclaimed. "Look, Aragorn!" Far below,
roughly following the line of the river, they could see a thin line devoid of
trees.

"I see it, now," Aragorn said. "How lucky! We’ve only this ridge to
climb.

Gypsy; Because climbing ridges is easy peasy. Caradhras, anyone?
Trojie; Caradhras wasn’t a ridge. It was a mountain.
Gypsy; A ridge is like a stretched out mountain. Whatever. There’s still altitude and the fact that the Hobbits probably aren’t good at mountain-climbing.
Trojie; True, and also, how do they know Saruman’s not going to cast a nasty spell on this one too?

It’s not far from where the boats are, at all. Let’s find the best
way down to it."

He seemed lighter, as if it could relax briefly, now that this small
hurdle had been surmounted. They both began rapidly descending the ridge
down to the path.

Trojie; Why don’t they just roll down?

"Yes, but I still expect it’ll be difficult carrying the boats up
here," said the elf, taking short, rapid steps down the steep slope. "We’ve
some hours hard work ahead of us."

Gypsy; You know, aside from the relationship dramas and the complete lack of logic, the writing in this fic isn’t *too* bad.
Trojie; You’re right. To give this author her props, she’s pretty good with the continuity thing.
Gypsy; Just some of her concepts are a bit off. Still shuddering at that whole Legolas/Smaug thing.

They reached the path. It was fairly wide and well-worn. A good track.

Trojie; Who made it? If it’s wide and well-worn, that tells me it’s often used, and *that* tells me the Fellowship probably don’t want to use it, in case of discovery.
Gypsy; Good point.

"We can follow this back and see where the shortest route to our boats
lies," Legolas said.

Trojie; What? Huh? How did they . . . where were the boats in the first place? Where did Aragorn and Legolas come from, if not from the boats? And *where* are the rest of the Fellowship?
Gypsy; *smacks Trojie on the back of the head* Don’t ask. Don’t think about it. Lalalala, pink elephants! Pink elephants!
Trojie; *groans*
Gypsy; There, what did I tell you about logic? It hurts.
Trojie; *under her breath* I think that’s more the blow to the head than the logic . . .

"My thought, exactly," said Aragorn. He strode down the path. Legolas
trailed behind him. "I heard that remark, by the way, about how
distracting my backside was," Aragorn turned to look at him. "Therefore, you
had better lead."

Gypsy; We can’t have Legolas ogling the future King’s posterior. That could lead to difficult diplomatic situations.
Trojie; Everyone knows Elves are easily distracted by pretty things.
Gypsy; Trojie, eyes front.
Trojie; I know, I know. *grumbles*

Legolas stopped, smiled slowly. "Why? Are you better able to handle the
distraction *my* rear would provide?"

"If you think your rear is so comely that it would cause me to think
unseemly thoughts, then . . . you are right." Aragorn laughed. He looked
into the elf’s azure eyes for a long minute.

Trojie; At least I don’t ogle Legolas.
Gypsy; True.
Trojie (in an undertone); Or Serenity.
Gypsy; Shut *up* about Serenity!

"Estel," Legolas said, "I confess that these last two fortnights,
constantly in your presence, and no opportunity to sate my hunger for you,
has been a strange kind of torture. But I will obey your will in these
matters." Legolas turned to go. Aragorn laid a hand on his arm.

Trojie; *rolls eyes* Oh here we go. Avert your eyes if you’re squeamish.
Gypsy; For heaven’s sake, I’m not bloody squeamish.

"Indeed," Aragorn said softly, "you think I haven’t felt it. I hunger
for you every second of every day." Suddenly he swept the elf into his
arms and kissed him passionately. Legolas initially surprised,

Gypsy; So who’s ‘Legolas initially surprised’ then? Shouldn’t there be a comma?
Trojie; If you ask me, the comma probably died of shock when it saw the sort of sentence it was going to be used in, and disintegrated.

returned the kiss, opening his mouth to Aragorn’s rough lips. The elf felt his
blood heat up, and a quickening in his loins, as Aragorn began kissing
his face, frantically, then returning to his mouth.

Gypsy; This is bizarre.
Trojie; You get used to it.
Gypsy; I feel like a peeping tom.
Trojie; Well, technically, we kind of are. *looks at the squirming Gypsy* Ok, I’ll skip the actual naughty bits. Sheesh.
Gypsy; I thought you said you didn’t want to sit through this kind of thing.
Trojie; Well I don’t, but see, it’s a little hard to *mock* them if you can’t *see* them.

"Ohtarnil, my love," Aragorn whispered. "We have the briefest of
respites right now. I know not what will come tomorrow; I fear grief and
doom. I would have the warriors’ comfort that you spoke of when we made our
pledge to each other at Vilyamar."

Trojie; (as Legolas) Well if you’re sure *pretends to slit Aragorn’s throat*
Gypsy; What the hell?
Trojie; Surely a clean death is the only comfort a warrior can provide?
Gypsy; Logic. Again. It has no place here.

They both sank to their knees in a deep drift of dead leaves by the
side of the path. "Right here, my captain?" Legolas asked.

Gypsy; Meep, I keep thinking he’s Bottle when he says ‘my Captain’. And Bottle’s only ten. This is just *wrong*

"Are we in danger? What do your elvish senses tell you?" Aragorn said,
looking around.

Trojie; (as Legolas) We’re in constant danger; we could be discovered at any moment. Who cares? C’mere!
Gypsy; *blink*

"That, for the present, we are in no danger from orcs. But you are in
danger of being ravished by an elf!" Legolas pulled Aragorn’s pack off
his back, then pushed him to the ground and sat on him. He pulled his
bow, quiver, and pack off over his arm and tossed them to the side.

Trojie; Ok, fast-forwarding now.

wipwipwipwipwipwipwipwipwipwipwip

They lay still for a time. Then both fumbled at their pants, putting
their clothes back in order. Legolas laid his head on Aragorn’s stomach
with a sigh, feeling relaxed and content for the first time in weeks.

Trojie; (as Aragorn) Sweet Elbereth, you’re heavy.

He looked up at the trees soaring high above, seeming to lean in toward
each other, their bare branches interlaced with patches of blue sky. This
sheltered place, facing south, was a little warmer than the bare hills
up above. He could smell the sap running, see the tiny buds of green
leaves breaking free of their winter prison.

"Aragorn," he exclaimed, "spring is coming!"

Gypsy; Um, doesn’t spring usually roll round after winter? And he’s been alive for how long?
Trojie; I know. You’d figure he’d have a handle on the pattern by now.

"Yes, but to what hope, I do not know," Aragorn said.

Trojie; That’s easy. Hope usually means good things.
Gypsy; If you’re hoping for bad things, I think that makes you a masochist, right?
Trojie; Right. We’ll turn you into a Bad Slasher yet, m’girl *grins*.

He reached down and threaded his fingers in Legolas’s silky hair. "Thank you, lirimaer,*
for that brief moment of pleasure.

Trojie; (as Legolas) Excuse me? Brief? *looks affronted* And there’s another of those blasted asterisks. *rubs eyes to try and get rid of technicolour floaty things in her field of vision*

You don’t know how I treasure these moments. They are my solace when we are traveling. I steer my boat, occasionally look back, catch a glimpse of your face, and I remember our
two passionate nights in Lothlórien.

Gypsy; (as Legolas) And become hopelessly distracted and sail us into a rock. It’s terrible. You have got to stop doing that.

It eases my soul."

"I *do* know," Legolas replied. "As I do the same. I draw on the
library of my life’s experience and relive them in my head as we go. It is
almost as good as actual experience. But not quite."

Trojie; (as Legolas) And it distracts me almost totally from the Quest, which is great, because world destruction is just so *depressing*.

He reached up and stroked Aragorn’s face. Aragorn caught his hand and kissed the palm.

"We’d best go back and get started on the portage. Gods, I curse every
step that takes me closer to Mordor," Aragorn said.

Trojie; He would have said ‘Valar’, rather than ‘Gods’, surely?
Gypsy; Hmm. I think so too.

Legolas sat up and turned to look at the ranger still lying in the dry
leaves. "Don’t let it trouble you right now," Legolas said. "You don’t
know what tomorrow may bring. Let the Valar guide your path. But for
now, perhaps I can tell you a story as we walk that may divert you, maybe
even more than the sight of my arse." Legolas grinned.

Trojie; (as Aragorn) Better be an entertaining story . . . I just can’t stop looking at your rump.
Gypsy; She made Legolas say ‘arse’. I think I may die of shock.

"You’re on," Aragorn said and got to his feet. "Come friend," he held a
hand out to Legolas and helped him up. "What is the story about?"

"Passion, greed, dragons, the folly of men. All the good stuff,"

Trojie; Eek, and she made Legolas say ‘stuff’ too. That’s it. *gropes around blindly for something*
Gypsy; *guesses what she’s after and hands Trojie a spork and a bottle of Bleeprin* You’ll happily sit through NC-17 smut, but go diving for the medication at something like that?
Trojie; Smut I can handle. Bad vocabulary choices I can’t. *shakily starts unscrewing cap of Bleeprin bottle.*

said Legolas. "Our river trip has brought it to mind. It was 73 years ago.

Gypsy; We write the whole word! Seventy-three!
Trojie; *swallowing Bleeprin noisily and beating herself over the head with the spork*

Five years after the fall of the dragon, Smaug, and in the summer when I
first met my lover, Elwen." Aragorn draped his arm over the elf’s
shoulders as they walked up the portage trail back to the rest of the
Fellowship.

Gypsy; (as Aragorn) Elwen . . . waaaaait, you sleep with girls too?
Trojie; (made slightly incoherent by spork and Bleeprin) Nooo! Het baaaad! Nononononono het! No het!
Absinthe; *waking up from apparent coma* Woof?
Gypsy; Ssh dear. It’s ok.

"Go on," Aragorn said.

*******************

*ohtar - warrior; nil - lover or friend in Quenya

*lirimaer - lovely one

Gypsy; Oh boy, we get translations! Helpful, but the in-text asterisks make my eyes water.
Trojie; *coherency now recovered* Not as bad as a Sue I read once where she translated every phrase right after she’d used it. After the millionth repetition of ‘pen tithen (little one)’ you’d think she’d realize that we’d got the hint, but no.
Gypsy; You’re remarkably lucid considering the amount of Bleeprin I just gave you.
Trojie; I think I’m becoming immune. Downside to working in an environment of constant squick, I suppose.

*********************

- TBC -

Trojie; No duh. Shall I fastforward the repetition of title, chapter and rating?
Gypsy; Be my guest.

wipwipwip

Late August, 2946 in the Third Age of Middle Earth

*******

"Are you ready for a ride, Elwen?" Legolas asked.

Trojie; Baaad images.
Gypsy; *smacks Trojie again* Clean out your mind, young lady!

"Anytime you are," his companion replied. Elwen turned and looked back
at Legolas with a grin. His jet black hair blew wildly in the wind.
Legolas noticed that a strand of it caught and lingered against Elwen’s
mouth.

Trojie; Waaaait . . . Elwen is a *GUY*?
Gypsy; Well, look on the bright side; it means there’s no het.
Trojie; *shakes head* But Elwen means ‘star maiden’! How the flying fridge can Elwen be a guy’s name?

"Let me get into position," Legolas said,

Trojie; *winces* Why won’t the bad pictures go awaaaay?
Gypsy; *rolls eyes*

and dug his paddle into the swiftly flowing current of the Forest River.
The bottom of the wooden canoe began to vibrate, feeling as if a whole school of small fishes were moving just underneath it.

Gypsy; *blink* Fish?
Trojie; *blink* Underneath a *boat*?
Absinthe; *blink* *yawn*

The sound of roaring water increased as they shot forward into the rapids. The tops of the green waves were tipped with white foam, like aging dwarves’ beards.

Trojie; I take it these aging dwarfs are messy eaters, if their beards are all foamy.
Gypsy; Messy drinkers, I think. Quaffing!

Legolas steered them purposefully toward the roughest water. Ahead the river roared around a wide curve in the cliff face.

"Here we go," Legolas yelled gleefully, as the boat picked up speed,
and then bounced forward, hitting hard between bounces. Elwen shipped
his paddle and hung onto the sides. Legolas steered the boat skillfully

Trojie; Which we spell with *one* L before the F.

around a series of boulders. Several large waves curled in place near the
rocks ahead. The blond elf nosed the canoe into the arc of the wave,
leaned hard into the turn, and surfed down its curving face. The spray
drenched them both.

"Aiiii, yaaaah!" Legolas and Elwen howled like wargs.

Absinthe; *perks up* Woof?
Trojie; No, not Deimos, dear.
Absinthe; Grr.

**********

Talagan, King Thranduil’s seneschal, paddled his canoe on the far side
of the river where the water was quieter. He mournfully watched his two
charges nearly overturn their boat as they whipped around the bend of
the river. He knew shouting a warning would be useless, as he had been
doing it all day.

Gypsy; How about because they wouldn’t be able to hear him over all the white water?
Trojie; Yes, but this way we get to find out what a nagging, boring old fart this ‘Talagan’ is.

Corraling the headstrong prince was a full-time job.

Trojie; *starts singing ‘Rawhide’*
Gypsy; Round ‘em up! Move ‘em out! RawHIDE!
Absinthe; *howl*
Trojie; Let’s get them Princes corralled!
Gypsy; Yee-haw!

"Look at those two," he said to Thrin, his bowman. "You’d think they
were on a holiday. If they flip that boat, we could lose half our
supplies."

Gypsy; I rather thought that if Legolas was in control of half the supplies for a trip, he’d be a bit more careful with them.
Trojie; I know. He always struck me as a sensible elf. Not that I tend to see him at his best. *sighs* Beaten, raped, girly Legolas is all I ever seem to manage to meet.
Gypsy; Yeah well. All our jobs have little problems. If I have to see one more ‘beautiful ace spaceship pilot’ girl set herself up with Mal Reynolds, I think I’ll run away into the Fireflyverse and stay there.

"What’re you going to do?" Thrin shrugged. "He’s the prince. He
outranks us."

Trojie; If I had an acorn for every time I heard that used as an excuse to let some Author make a character do something stupid for no good reason . . .
Gypsy; Then you’d be mauled by squirrels?
Trojie; Good point.

"He’s supposed to obey me. I know the King told him that before we
left." Talagan frowned and squinted at the late afternoon sun. Prince
Legolas and his dark-haired companion were almost out of sight, but he
could still hear their delighted shouts even over the steady roar of the
river.

Trojie; So if you could hear their shouts, then how come they won’t be able to hear yours?
Gypsy; It’s a way of advancing the plot?
Trojie; What plot?
Gypsy; Exactly.

"Ah, Talagan, let them have some fun," Thrin said. "Legolas has been
itching to get out from under his father’s control all summer."

Gypsy; Is this EvilBastard!Thranduil we’re heading towards here?
Trojie; I sincerely hope not. *makes the sign of the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch* “O Lord, bless this Thy hand grenade that, with it, Thou mayest blow Thine enemies to tiny bits, in Thy mercy.”
Gypsy; (sotto voce); Amen . . .

"You’re not the one who will face King Thranduil’s wrath if something
happens," Talagan said. He distinctly remembered his last audience with
the king before they left.

Trojie; Well considering it can’t have been *that* long ago, I should hope you do remember it.
Gypsy; We can’t have Elves with Alzheimers running around.

Thranduil was seated at the table in his library. Scrolls of parchment
littered the table.

Trojie; Ah, another practitioner of the ‘first available surface’ method of filing.

He was reading and signing documents.

Gypsy; “Went to a book signing today. Managed to scribble my name in three encyclopaedias and an atlas before they threw me out of the shop . . .”
Trojie; *snort* Where’d you get that from?
Gypsy; One of Jack Dees stand up comedy routines. Good, eh?

"Come in, Talagan." He beckoned to his chief administrator without lifting his eyes
to look at him.

Trojie; He’d better hope there’s only one door to that room. Otherwise he’ll look like a right pillock if he beckons in the wrong direction.
Gypsy; How does he manage to beckon, read, sign and hold the parchment still at the same time? Is he a girl? Or can Elves multitask too?
Trojie; I’m wondering exactly how many arms he has.

Sunlight streamed in from a round tunneled window carved in the living rock high up the wall.

Trojie; I’m sorry, but I’m a geology student. I know these things. Rock isn’t living. It really, really isn’t.
Gypsy; Have you taken its pulse?

It illuminated the thick fingerlike formations that hung from the ceiling, the last drips of water
that once trembled on their ends, now frozen forever in stone.

Trojie; And there’s usually always a drop of water on the end, unless the water’s dried up . . .
Gypsy; Surely you’d want the water to have dried up before you built a library in a cave?
Trojie; Good point. Which still doesn’t excuse the extra comma in that sentence – ‘now frozen forever in stone’ is not a separate clause.

Dustmotes danced in the sunbeam surrounding King Thranduil’s leonine head of
blond hair. He glanced up, sapphire-blue eyes piercing Talagan.

Gypsy; (as Talagan) Aaargh! Pain!
Trojie; (as Talagan) Pointy eyes!

"I trust the trade agreement with Esgaroth was prepared to your liking,
my lord?" Talagan said.

Trojie; *bow bow*
Gypsy; *scrape scrape*

"As always, your work is quite satisfactory." The king paused and
tapped his lips with the quill. "Talagan, don’t you think it odd that it has
taken the people of Esgaroth so long to rebuild after the fall of the
dragon, even after all our help?"

Trojie; (as Thranduil) I am suspicious.
Gypsy; (as Thranduil) I will proceed to question my subordinate in order to lay bare important plot points for the ‘mystery story’ that is barely carrying the smutty relationship between my son and this bizarre hermaphrodite, Elwen.
Trojie; I think ‘crossdresser’ is more appropriate than ‘hermaphrodite’, don’t you?
Gypsy; Whatever. The main point is the poor, limping ‘mystery’. This is obviously an Exposition!scene.

"Perhaps men aren’t as industrious as elves," Talagan ventured.

Trojie; Perhaps they ran into unforeseen snags. Like the squishy ground underfoot around the lake and the subsequent difficulty of laying foundations?
Gypsy; Oh, and like Elves these days are all industrious. It’s all already been built for them. They just have to laze around and be ineffable.

The king sighed and threw his quill down on the table. "Trade agreements! Reports on numbers of wine barrels

Trojie; Always, always stories mentioning Thranduil come back to the wine! He was not an alcoholic!
Gypsy; Want a spork?

or bolts of cloth shipped!
Fah! This is the part of being a king that I find the most tedious. I am glad
you are here to smooth the way for me. But you must get weary of
administrative tasks yourself."

Gypsy; We’re not heading towards what I think we’re heading towards, are we?
Trojie; What? Thranduil propositioning Talagan? *You* were thinking that too?
Gypsy; (guiltily) What? No! Well, maybe.

"My lord?" Talagan inquired. He knew the king well enough to know that
he was about to be asked to do something not in line with the usual
duties of sitting at a desk copying documents, supplying the king with
reports, or settling endless household squabbles. He much preferred
working on his remedies and consulting the stars.

Trojie; (as Talagan, but with distinct Sean Connery accent, for some reason) So stars, what say you?
Gypsy; (as the stars) We agree. Well, Earendil’s not commenting. But the rest of us agree.

"I needed someone to take the agreement back to Esgaroth and make some
final adjustments.

Trojie; Oh, so this isn’t a proposition then.

Legolas has requested the errand. I have decided to grant his wish, as he seems restless, and it’s time he was taking more responsibility."

Gypsy; So, what, he was just lazing around Mirkwood all the time before the Quest?
Trojie; Presumably. You *have* heard the argument that Legolas is Elven trailer trash, right? Not exactly a responsible breed of creature, trailer trash.
Gypsy; Trailer trash? Where do people *get* these insane theories?
Trojie; I think it’s something to do with the blond hair/dark eyebrows thing. He’s obviously got a bleach job.

The king tapped the table with long fingers.

Gypsy; *Whose* fingers?
Trojie; His, I hope. Although, if this is EvilBastard!Thranduil, they could be *anyone*’s.

Talagan thought, not for the first time, how much he looked like his younger
son, Legolas.

Trojie; Waaait. Talagan has a son called Legolas too?
Gypsy; Why is Talagan contemplating his own features?
Trojie; . . . I think there may have been pronoun confusion there.

Like and yet not so; where Legolas’s face was kind,
Thranduil’s was cold. He was a king secure in his strength, and not to be
trifled with. Talagan awaited his pleasure.

Trojie; *blink* *opens mouth*
Gypsy; Don’t you even *think* about saying *anything*
Trojie; *innocent look* Who me? Contemplate less-than-savoury connotations of that last sentence? Never.

"I want you to go with him to Esgaroth, Talagan," the king said. "Keep
him out of trouble, which he has a way of finding.

Gypsy; That was a spasticated sentence.

And I believe that new companion of his, that Elwen from Elrond’s household, is going on
this trip also. I have no authority over him and cannot say no, but I
sense," and he looked carefully at Talagan, "that Elwen has taken an
interest in my son beyond mere friendship. I do not believe it has gone
anywhere yet, and I want it to stay that way. Have I made myself
understood?"

Trojie; (as Talagan) Of course, my lord. The prince’s virtue will be preserved.
Gypsy; OK, so Homophobic!Thranduil not so much fun.
Trojie; He’s a setup device, nothing more. A nice bit of tension created between Legolas and Talagan. ‘Your daddy says you can’t do that . . .’ he says, and then Legolas goes; ‘Can I not be free to love whom I will????!!!’
Gypsy; *winces* Not the punctuation! Eeep.
Trojie; Sorry. I was going for badslash verisimilitude.

"Perfectly, my lord." Talagan bowed. "When do I start?"

Gypsy; Start what? Interfering with Legolas’s love life?
Trojie; Are we getting a bit protective here? *smirks*
Gypsy; No!
Trojie; Serenity will be relieved . . .
Gypsy; *whaps Trojie over the head. Again*

"Tomorrow," the king said, and he went back to frowning at his scrolls.

Gypsy; How can he go *back* to frowning at them? He wasn’t frowning at them in the first place, was he?

But, as Talagan now watched Legolas and Elwen cavorting through the

Trojie; Daisy fields? That’d be the romantic choice.

rapids,

Trojie; Bugger.
Gypsy; But it’s a lot more likely than the daisy fields.

he had a feeling that he was not going to escape Thranduil’s wrath this time.

Gypsy; What, because you’re an incompetent chaperon?
Trojie; If he was competent, do you think the summary of this would have included the phrase ‘hot sex’?
Gypsy; It might have, if our first suggestion of what Thranduil wanted Talagan to do had turned out to be correct.

********
Trojie; Is this the end of the flashback?
Gypsy; I think so. I’m not sure how you’d pronounce a line of stars.

Now that they were through the roughest water, Elwen pulled his paddle
off the floor of the canoe and dipped it back in the water.

Gypsy; I’ve been white water rafting. You don’t ‘dip’ your paddle in the water after rapids. You paddle like hell and fend off the rocks to avoid holing your boat until you slow down.
Trojie; These are Elves, and this is badslash. No doubt their boats are magical, or something else that’ll help the author start whipping up the UST without unnecessary interruptions.
Gypsy; *grumbles*

What a great day this had been! He felt so alive when he was with Legolas!

Gypsy; He felt dead at other times?
Trojie; No, he just didn’t feel as alive, according to the phrasing, at least.
Gypsy; I rather thought that you were either dead or alive. Like, on or off. Binary. Otherwise some people could be more alive than others, or more dead. Or that someone could be both . . .
Trojie; A wave and a particle?

He turned to look at the prince who was leaning back with his eyes closed,
enjoying the sun on his face.

Gypsy; Again, not a sensible thing to be doing when white-water rafting.

Elwen felt a familiar jolt in his groin,

Trojie; Might want to see your doctor about that mate, could be prostate cancer.
Gypsy; Do elves get prostate cancer?
Trojie; There’s a first time for everything.

sensed every time he gazed at the high cheekbones, strong jawline, and
straight dark brows of Legolas’s fair face. The prince’s beauty was
remarkable even among elves, the fairest folk of Middle Earth.

Trojie; He’s technically male. We don’t tend to use the word ‘beauty’ for males. It’s very effeminate.
Gypsy; Well, what would you use? And this is badslash. Legolas will be insufferably girly.
Trojie; True. *Sigh*

Elwen had fallen for that face, and equally comely body, from the
moment he laid eyes on the elf two months ago. Elrond had sent Elwen as
part of a delegation from Imladris to enjoy the summer games Thranduil
had instituted to keep his warriors sharp. Elwen began watching one
particularly lovely archer with interest, admiring his grace and technique,
and cheering as loudly as anyone when he beat out all his rivals to take
the prize for greatest skill with a bow. He had gone to congratulate the
winner, shook his hand, looked into his jewel-blue eyes, and at that
moment, Elwen realized that his heart was no longer his.

Gypsy; I’m sure that sentence should have another word in it somewhere. Probably ‘own’ at the end.
Trojie; Hmm, I think you’re right. Have you seen the Disney version of Robin Hood? This paragraph reads just like the archery contest scene in that movie.

It was only later that he learned who the beautiful young archer was.

Trojie; Hang on, wasn’t Talagan saying how much Legolas looked like Thranduil? And Elwen would have met Thranduil, because I doubt that Thranduil would let people into his home without checking them out himself first.
Gypsy; *rolls eyes*

Elwen had managed to attract Legolas’s attention at the banquet that
night in an informal music competition. The Imladris elf had a talent for
playing the fiddle and singing.

Gypsy; The elves used fiddles?

Legolas had asked him to sit with him afterward, and in the course of the conversation, requested that Elwen tutor him in music. Elwen agreed, in return for archery lessons.

Trojie; So often ‘teaching’ is used as an excuse to get two characters into close proximity late at night. Sitting close together, using the same textbook . . . then archery later on . . . no, you’re holding that bow wrong, here, let me show you . . .
Gypsy; Dear me Legolas, is that an arrow in your pocket . . .
Trojie; *snigger*

They had been together every day since, even though the rest of Elwen’s party
had already departed for Imladris.

Gypsy; And of course nobody found that suspicious. Or found the concept of Elwen making his way home alone dangerous in any way . . .

As Elwen had come to know Legolas, his infatuation only deepened. The
prince was remarkable: quick, intelligent, compelling. Legolas
constantly challenged him to risk more, attempt new feats, whether it was
guessing riddles, fencing, or shooting rapids on the Forest River. Elwen
knew he would follow Legolas down a dragon’s throat.

Trojie; Is that entirely sensible?
Gypsy; If I was Elwen I’d be suspecting that Legolas was trying to get me killed.

Lately, Elwen’s dreams, both waking and sleeping, were of tasting
Legolas’s curved lips, slipping his hands down the prince’s muscular
body, burying himself deep within him.

Gypsy; *wryly* Charming.
Trojie; Reasonably typical though. Note the skilful use of euphemism. *rolls eyes*

The dark-haired elf had made some discreet inquiries among the palace staff and had learned only that the prince’s most recent love affair had been with an elf-woman from
Lórien.

Trojie; And the staff were not suspicious of why they were being questioned as to the prince’s love affairs? Hmmm.

Unsure of Legolas’s inclinations, Elwen was unwilling to declare
his love and risk losing the prince’s companionship.

He thought, how much longer can I keep this secret? It burns my soul!
If only Legolas would give me a sign, the slightest sign that he would
be receptive to a physical relationship. . . . Elwen sighed, and dug
vigorously at the water with his paddle. Soon. It must be soon, as I can’t
delay going back to Imladris too much longer.

Gypsy; I’m still having problems with all this ‘digging’ of the water . . . smacks of ‘ploughing the ocean wave’.
Trojie; ‘Everyone knows the horses sink.’ *snort*
Gypsy; Less of the quoting, please.
Trojie; Spoilsport.

********
The river widened and flattened out. Legolas glanced back to see
Talagan and Thrin far behind.

He grinned. "Guess we’ve outrun my father’s watchdogs."

Trojie; Oh, they’re watchdogs now? I was rather under the impression that they were negotiators and bodyguards, and that you and your mate were along for the ride.

"They’re just following orders. Maybe you ought to play along more,"
suggested Elwen.

Gypsy; Rationality from the OC? Well, that’s an unprecedented occurrence.
Trojie; Truly a Kodak moment.

"Forget it. I’m an adult and Father treats me like an elfling. I will
do as I please," Legolas said, a bit haughtily. "And besides, it’s
rather fun making Talagan nervous."

Trojie; Why, oh why is Legolas so immature? He’s such a level-headed, wise character . . . but no, he gets made out to be such an . . . adolescent. *grinds teeth*
Gypsy; *pats Trojie on the back*

The river curved around eastward, gathered speed again, and then
suddenly they were flung into a an immense oval lake, shaped like a spear
point. The current continued to sweep them along. Legolas shaded his
eyes with his long hand, looked to the south, and could just make out the
dam where the lake water poured over the spillway into a roaring falls
below.

Trojie; I hope you’re all taking notes. There may be a test later. With maps.
Absinthe; Woof?

The air shook with the sound.

Gypsy; Of the falls, I assume.
Trojie; Sentence fragments! Duck!

To the north, he could see the rotting pilings of the old town of Esgaroth, destroyed five years ago when the dying dragon had fallen on it.

Gypsy; *snort* ‘splat’
Trojie; Bathos, anyone?

"Elwen," Legolas said suddenly, "let’s go see what has become of old
Smaug, eh? Last time I was here, I was involved in the battle and had no
chance to see where the nasty old worm fell. They say he had a belly
encrusted with jewels. Maybe we’ll see some."

Gypsy; You didn’t see where he fell, and yet you’re proposing going to look for him in the little time you have before those pesky ‘watchdogs’ catch up? If he fell in the lake, how do you propose to find him?

"Given the market for dragon bones, and particularly the teeth, I’d be
surprised if the Lakemen hadn’t salvaged all of it, including the
jewels," Elwen said. "I’ll wager none of the worm is left."

"Why? What do they use the bones and teeth for?" asked Legolas.

Trojie; Aphrodisiacs?
Gypsy; That’s the Chinese, dear.

"Valar’s wisdom, don’t you know?" Elwen said.

Gypsy; What, they use the bones and teeth for Valar’s wisdom?
Trojie; I think that’s one of the more cumbersome exclamations I’ve heard in the Tolkien-verse.

"They make a powerful medicine when ground into a powder. They say it can cure almost
anything.

Trojie; The Elves *are* indulging in ancient Chinese medicine!
Gypsy; At the first mention of acupuncture I’m out of here. Ick. *Shivers*

And of course, it would be extremely scarce these days, wouldn’t it, owing to the general lack of dragons, and the difficulty of killing one, even if one could be found. Any remains of old Smaug would be worth more than their weight in gold."

Gypsy; Is Elwen being sarcastic? That ‘wouldn’t it’ had a bit of bile behind it.

"Let’s see, anyway. I’m even more curious now," Legolas said, paddling
swiftly toward the remnants of the town that, five years earlier, had
been a thriving community built on piles out onto the lake.

Trojie; Because that’s the most sensible place to build a town when there’s actual land nearby.
Gypsy; The fishing’s better
Trojie; The rising damp’d be a bit of a bugger though.

Soon they could clearly see the ends of burnt timbers sticking out of the water
like rotted old teeth. Only one small section of the pier had survived,
still with the remains of several burnt houses perched on top. They
glided through the timbers and peered down into the deep blue water.

Trojie; Handily not paying attention to whether or not they’re going to collide with anything.
Gypsy; And why is the water blue? Water doesn’t actually look blue when you’re on top of it, unless you’re in an unusually clear, unusually deep channel, like a fiord, or something like a hot pool full of cyanobacteria.

Elwen bent low over the gunnel, his hair, glinting with blue
highlights, cascaded down his back. For a brief moment, Legolas
imagined the feel of that silky hair caressing his thighs as Elwen took him
into his mouth.

Gypsy; *blink*
Trojie; Well, that was sudden . . . bloody tasteless badslashers.
Gypsy; Actually, that’s a point. You call yourself a badslasher, and she’s a badslasher . . . how do you tell yourselves apart?
Trojie; No, I’m a Bad Slasher; a Bad Slash agent. She’s a badslasher; someone who writes badslash. Capitalisation is important in an entirely written multiverse. At least until someone makes a PPC movie, that is.
Gypsy; *rolls eyes*

He smiled. These thoughts were becoming more frequent.
Then, he sensed something new, of an unpleasant lurking nature.

Gypsy; Is there such a thing as a *pleasant* lurking nature?

"Legolas," Elwen warned, "this place feels strange to me, like some
foul, brooding thing. I don’t like it."

Trojie; Bloody bloody fanon Elvish precog. It’s such a DEM. Hmm, how shall I make sure they notice something that has amazingly evaded all other searchers? I know, they can *sense* it!
Gypsy; DEM?
Trojie; Deus Ex Machina. Amazingly subtle way of fixing up a situation without having to explain it, or have it make sense. I hate them.
Absinthe; *growl*

"I feel it also," Legolas said. "Wait a minute. I think I see
something. Yes, just there, huge leg bones, a rib cage and a backbone, and
there, out into deeper water, perhaps the skull." Legolas thought he might
try diving in to get a closer look. He started to draw off his jerkin.

Gypsy; Loving Legolas’s anatomical knowledge.
Trojie; And how he can state this all with such assurance. Deep water distorts images, the bones would be covered in algae by now, unless algae is sensitive to this amazingly evil forcefield, and the bones would be scattered by water movement by now, surely? The spinal column definitely would. They don’t hold together without ligaments and things!
Gypsy; (longsufferingly) Yes dear.

Suddenly, the prince felt a sense of overwhelming evil wash over him.
He was intensely sick to his stomach. As he doubled over, clutching his
abdomen, he heard a deep, hissing voice.

Gypsy; I don’t recall evil making Legolas feel sick in the actual book, do you? Surely a Nazgul is more evil than a dragon, and he was probably pretty close to them at various points in the story . . .
Trojie; Maybe, being a prudent Elf, he was taking medication which prevented the nausea?

"Such a brave, little elf," it said. "So cocky, as you come to look
upon my ruin, with such thoughts of the pleasures of the flesh!

Trojie; Why would Legolas being a little . . . itchy . . . be the thing that Smaug’s ghost would be most pissed about? And why is that comma there? It looks lost and alone.
Gypsy; I think we’re missing the most salient point here; why is the very deceased Smaug still talking? And why are you euphemising? ‘Itchy’? He’s as horny as a seventeen year old.
Trojie; Mental note; un-suspend disbelief. And as for the euphemisms . . . I was brought up politely.

Know that if you dare come closer, you will cause the death of your loved one and
you will die with that knowledge in your heart."

Gypsy; ‘Elwen’ is a loved one already? Wow, that was quick.
Trojie; And knowledge, y’know, isn’t that usually more of a brain thing than a heart thing?
Gypsy; Not for mediaeval physicians.
Trojie; I wasn’t under the impression that this was Smaug, M.D. we were dealing with here. If it were, The Hobbit would have been an entirely different book.
Gypsy; You may be right.

The voice laughed,
ending on a high, wheezing note. An icy fear gripped him.

Trojie; Smaug laughs creepily. Ok. Now, why is Legolas so bloody spooked?
Gypsy; He’s younger in this fic than in LotR, remember.
Trojie; Only by a few decades, according to Legolas himself in the . . . flash-forward? The bit at the beginning where he and Aragorn had it off.

Legolas heard retching sounds, managed to look up, and saw Elwen
hanging over the side of the boat, violently ill. The dark-haired elf raised
his head long enough to gasp, "Legolas, got to leave. Now!"

Gypsy; (as Elwen) Motion sickness . . . pills . . . wearing . . off . . .
Trojie; (as Legolas) Oh no! Is the diarrhoea coming back too?!

With great difficulty, Legolas reached for the paddle. He was dizzy
with an intense headache and he feared he would be as sick as Elwen any
minute.

Trojie; Mental note; dragons; bad for health. Does this have *any* canon precedent?
Gypsy; What, like ‘Warning, contact with Evil may cause the following; dizziness, headaches, vomiting . . .’ Hey, how about ‘may contain Nuts’?

He dug the paddle into the water, threw his whole shoulder into
the stroke, then another stroke, and another.

Trojie; How many shoulders does he *have*?

As he put more distance between them and the dragon carcass, the sickness began to lessen. Elwen finally sat up and began paddling as if a host of orcs were after them.
They only slowed when the ruined town was far in the distance and their
heads had cleared.

Gypsy; So now where are the two other Elves?
Trojie; And where are the brains belonging to these two Elves?

"By the Valar," Elwen groaned, "that was terrible. I never want to feel
like that again. Now we know why the Lakemen haven’t salvaged the
bones." He grabbed a water skin and rinsed his mouth out, spitting into the
lake.

Gypsy; How very hygienic.

"It seems the nasty old worm has had a last laugh on his killers,"
Legolas said. "Imagine their frustration at having a fortune buried under
them and unable to touch it."

Trojie; Buried? In *water*?
Gypsy; If it was buried then how did he see it? A better phrasing would just be ‘having a fortune under them and etc etc.’

Then Legolas saw Thrin and Talagan coming steadily toward them. They
had made a wide berth around the ruined town. They reached them and
pulled alongside. Talagan had a grim smile on his face.

Trojie; Wow, those Elves paddle fast.
Gypsy; The author really doesn’t want us to feel sympathy with Talagan, does she.
Trojie; Too late. I feel sorry he was invented by an author who obviously wants to cast him as the Token Homophobic Bastard.

"I gather you two miscreants had a taste of Smaug’s Curse," he said. "I
could have warned you, if you hadn’t run off."

Gypsy; (as Talagan) I would have included it in the general warnings for this dangerous mission, just in case we got separated, but I decided I’d rather wait for you to do this stupid and potentially fatal thing and then be smug about it later.

"What do you mean, if we hadn’t run off, Talagan? You were just too
slow," teased Legolas. "What do you have in that boat weighing you down
so? Perhaps you sampled too many cakes during the feast days last week."

Trojie; (as author) I will give Legolas some witty dialogue to prove he’s more than a pretty face to me, and that I respect him as a character.
Gypsy; Liar.

"Impertinent," sputtered Talagan. Thrin hid a smile behind his hand.

Gypsy; (as Thrin) Hooray, I get a mention!
Trojie; And a really stupid name.

"Shall we go on to Esgaroth?" Legolas said. "You may lead the way,
Talagan." The prince made a deferential flourish with his hand. The
seneschal clicked his tongue in annoyance and then paddled away. As
soon as his back was turned, Legolas and Elwen were smiling at each
other, their unpleasant experience with Smaug’s bones forgotten.

Trojie; Are we back to the Elven Alzheimers thing again?
Gypsy; Elves did not forget that easily!

***********

Esgaroth had been rebuilt around a bend of the shoreline and out of
sight of the old town. As there was no longer any need for the town to be
built in the lake as a protection from the dragon, it had been
relocated onto the shore. A long wooden pier jutted out into the water,
along which a variety of boats and rafts were moored. The Lakemen relied
on the water commerce coming down the River Running from the Lonely
Mountain, now inhabited by Dain and a host of busy dwarves; and from
the newly rebuilt town of Dale; and from the Elven kingdom. Men farmed
vast fields nearby, including the Dorwinion vineyards where the grapes
were grown to create the sweet and potent wine so loved by King
Thranduil.

Trojie; Aaargh! Why do they always talk about wine! Or rather, why do they always have to mention Thranduil whenever they mention wine?
Gypsy; Easy, easy . . .

These were also traded at Esgaroth. The town, so long
devastated, was finally prospering again in the wake of the dragon’s
demise.

A bell rang in a tower on the pier as they approached. Soon a half
dozen canoes shot into the water, paddled by youngsters. As they
approached, Legolas heard their high pitched voices, crying excitedly,
"Elves! Elves from Mirkwood!"

****************

- TBC -

Date: 2006-01-03 07:55 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] gundamkiwi.livejournal.com
Very nice MST. ^^ If I could make a suggestion, though, I'd reccommend working more snarky remarks into the really long paragraphs.

Keep it up! :D

~Kiwi

Date: 2006-01-07 02:23 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] agenttrojie.livejournal.com
Noted. Next instalment will have extra snark and less badfic filler ^_^

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