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.|. Radical Dreamers .|.
Chapter 16 ~ * * * * * Reaching Lothlórien turned out easier than the Fellowship had thought – few hours of comfortable journey onto the Terraship instead than days marching was a gift of the Valar, indeed. Survive Galadriel’s welcome party, didn’t.
To show them how welcome they were in her Realm, (or to make them pay for making her wait so long, none was entirely sure) the Lady of Lórien made sure the party went on for days, and that none of the company *ever* left it. All of her efforts resulted in the poor Fellowship members catching close to no sleep at all for one whole week.
Ignoring the week of merrymaking, and the one other week it took the “Fellowship-of-the-Star-with-the-momentary-addition-of-Four-Hobbits-and-one-Squirrel” (as Galadriel loved to call it, after she’d heard Gandalf refer to them thus) to recover, let’s jump straight to when things began to get back to their normal routine – i.e. when madness began anew.
By now everyone in Lórien knew that something was going on between the Aurêl of Mirkwood and the Elfstone of Gondor, even though neither of them was aware of the other’s identity. Just as they knew that Éowyn, the woman who pretended to be the Aurêl to protect Legolas a little from the Orcs’ unwanted attention, did not approve of it (‘approve’ to put it lightly. ‘Had a fit each time she saw them stand even remotely close’ may help you get a better picture). However, blessed their attitude to never intrude, it didn’t even cross the Lórien Elves’ minds to inform either the Aurêl or the Elfstone of what they knew. We may be inclined to say they found the situation just too *amusing* to risk disrupting their fun by saying something. But in fact, if you pick one Elf of Lórien of your choice and ask him or her, they’ll surely tell you: “Why now, we have no right to invade their privacy. It would be unbecoming of creatures as wise as we are to play spies.” Even if, we must admit, if you asked them if playing matchmaker was unbecoming as well, the answer you’d get would hover between, “Why should it?” and “Don’t think so – I actually love doing it.”
Their attitude provided Legolas with many and many occasions to try and put his seduction plan into action, but it was difficult to seduce someone when your personal guard follows your every movement. In the end all his strategies, from number one (“The night’s grown so cold, Aragorn… hold me?”) to the latest number 2345 (“Tie a bright pink ribbon around my chest and lie naked on his bed until he notices me”), failed miserably.
To the records, Éowyn *had* agreed to let Legolas have his night of love with Aragorn. Just, whenever she sensed they were close enough for Legolas’s plan to work, her instinct to protect Legolas kicked into action and possessed her in either disrupt her Prince’s plan (“Cold? Here, take my cloak Legsy” or “Bright pink? What a terrible choice… it doesn’t suits you, that colour. Either way, we’re out of ribbons, sorry *tossing a handful of colourful ribbons in the fire*”), or chase Aragorn around the whole Golden Woods.
The elves of Lórien usually enjoyed watching the fun picture they made as they ran amidst the woods: a panicked Aragorn would lead, followed closely by a screeching Éowyn who was, in turn, followed just as closely by a flushed Legolas. But, amusing as it was, the Lórien Elves soon grew bored of their antics. At least, until Éowyn managed to drag the newly met Haldir, Elladan, Boromir and Arwen, into the mess, all in one evening that will remain forever embed in Lothlórien’s history……………………………...
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“Tell me again when exactly I agreed to do this.” Éowyn rolled her eyes. “El, please.” “Elladan.” “Yeah, whatever.” She waved her hand at him, not looking up from the mixture she was stirring. There was a remarkable amount of flour scattered across the Kitchen’s counter, as well as broken eggs, remains of butter, milk, sugar and various inedible things that shouldn’t really be anywhere around Éowyn when she cooked. “I told you already.” She continued. “I need something to keep my mind occupied, otherwise I’ll keep ruining Legsy’s plans—err… evenings. Yeah, evenings.” Elladan swallowed soundly when Éowyn reached blindly for the soap powder and tried to add it in the bowl. Quicker than lighting he was on his feet beside her, and Éowyn was blinking wonderingly at her now empty hand. Elladan silently handed her the sugar. “So you decided to try and master the recipe of Sam’s cookies.” She nodded. “This still does not explain when I agreed to be your guinea pig.” He observed, reclining back against the kitchen table, quickly grabbing her hand when she tried to add a polishing gel to the mixture instead than honey. She pouted at him, trying to wrench the jar out of his hands, bouncing on her toes when he held it far above his head. “Tis not honey, Milady.” She puffed out her cheeks, trying to look scary. The Elf countered with a stern look, and by handing her the right jar. She quickly rotated it, intending to add one stomach-churning quantity of honey in the bowl, baring her teeth at Elladan when he swooped, snatching the bowl away from her the exact moment the right amount of honey made it into the mixture. Éowyn pouted until he placed the bowl back in front of her. “I have no one else to ask to!” “Why not the Hobbits? They love to eat. Anything. Edible or not.” Elladan suggested with a raised eyebrow. “They came here to report to the Lady how things are going in Morfëataur. I can’t really bother them.” “What about Gandalf, then?” “Gone smoking his pipe. I really don’t know where, though.” “Elrohir?” “Gone with Gandalf. Or so he said. I thought Elves hated smoking.” “Legolas?” “Ehy! I’d never risk his health with my cooking!” Blink. “I mean…” Elladan sighed. “Jeez, I’m moved by your concern for me. Strider?” “I’d be too temped to put some sleeping potion in the cookies.” “Arwen?” Éowyn just glared pointedly at that. Elladan raised his hands. “Okay, okay, it was stupid of me to ask. So that leaves just me, I guess.” “Exactly.” “This *still* does not explain *when* I agreed to test the edibility of your cookies.” Then he blinked, starting, his folded arms sliding loose. “Why not Boromir?” Éowyn scrunched up her nose, lips pulled tight together. “Without any competition, it’s lost all its charm.” She mused aloud. “Matchmaking is way funnier, especially with the right allies.” “…I beg your pardon?” She shrugged again. Then she did something that REALLY surprised Elladan.
She spoke to him with her heart in her hands. “Please, Elladan. I really need someone to help me, now. And as you said yourself, you’re the only one I can ask to. If I ruin another of Legsy’s plans he’ll never even look at me again. I can’t lose his friendship, it’s too important for me.” she said, staring intently at the mixture. “The other Elves of Mirkwood always seemed rather distant with me. But Legolas… he was always sweet, and caring, and ready to help me. I owe it to him to let him love Aragorn while he still can.” She shrugged, trying to hide her sad face from him. “I know you think I should ask Boromir, but I really can’t. I wanted to befriend him because he’s the only Human I’ve ever met, but I guess I was wrong to try and seduce him. I don’t really want that from him. I wanted a human friend. Human… like me.” Her eyes flickered up, meeting his briefly. Elladan just nodded dumbly, his jaw on the floor. “You can… use me as your guinea pig, I guess.” He said when he got his mouth under control again. He’d senses something was amiss with this Princess but… human? He leaned back against the table, expression intent. Éowyn rolled up her sleeves, grinning widely now, and went back on making the best cookies ever. …well, the best cookies she could possibly make. … … … … … …double check: the best *edible* cookies she could make. … … … … … … … … … … okay, let’s face it. Elladan is doomed. -_-;;
* * * * *
The moment Galadriel knew Arwen was to dine with Boromir that night she kindly offered her Granddaughter (read: ordered her not to refuse) some help to get ready. Well, it’s not exact to say that Galadriel get into action *the moment* she knew about the dinner… she’d known about it for years, having seen it in her mirror. But the moment her granddaughter had the unlucky idea of mentioning the dinner to her, one could literally hear the wheels in Galadriel’s head getting into motion.
With a surprising speed she’d hauled poor Arwen to her talan to find an appropriate dress, and sent a servant to inform Boromir where he was supposed to meet his date –err- Elrond’s daughter. Considering that Galadriel has the biggest wardrobe on Middle Earth, (and that’s *something* if you think that the smallest wardrobe of the Elven nobility ever seen could barely fit into the Tower of Ortanch), she asked the Human Knight (read: offered him some detailed description of what would be done to him if he was just one minute late) to be there in seven hours.
The sight that presented itself to Arwen’s eyes when her Grandmother opened her wardrobe robbed her of her breath. Being Galadriel a noble Lady, one would expect her wardrobe to be filled with delicate-looking gowns, jewels, veils and rich silk, right? Well, it was to her eternal astonishment that Arwen saw said wardrobe filled with nothing but leather garments, red velvet dresses, J-Rocker clothes, a few clown costumes, and even one complete Frank’nFurther outfit that, or so Galadriel claimed, was not hers but her husband’s.
Then, Galadriel swirled on Arwen with glinting eyes, and the younger Elf swallowed, readying herself for the following seven hours of torture, wondering why her Grandmother insisted that she should look beautiful for this one dinner, when she and Boromir had dinned together all the evenings of their lives since he was but a boy.
* * * * * *
Elrohir watched on as Boromir checked his reflection for the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes. “So you are going out with Arwen again, Boromir?” Boromir froze. //I’m leaving the talan, so I *am* going out. Accidentally, it happens that Arwen will be getting out of her own talan once I get there; will go to the same place I’m going, with me; and will spend some time there and have dinner, also with me.// He nodded, supposing one could say he was going out with Arwen and be positively sure he’d put it right. Elrohir tried hard to hide a smirk. “I heard that spot where you always take her, up close the Nimrodel, is very romantic this time of the year…” the Elf trailed off, watching with a gleeful glint in his eyes as Boromir stopped dead in his tracks, grimacing slightly. “Ro…mantic?” “Very much so.” “Right. This isn’t… a date… you know?” or is it? “Of course.” “Right. Then… why did you say I’m d-dating your sister? I-I’m not d-dating your sister. Now that wouldn’t be an honour. Any man would like to date her, but I’m not dating her. Not that she would date me. Would she? No, don’t think so. Either way, I’m just a Knight, while she’s a noble lady. And I’m mortal, while she’s isn’t, so we’re not dating. Not that mortality could go in the way of dating--” he trailed off, acutely aware of Elrohir’s blank stare fixed on him. “Boromir?” the Elf said, quirking an eyebrow up. “Hm?” “You’re babbling.” “Oh.” “And sweating. And if I didn’t know better I’d say you are blushing.” “…” “Well.” The Elf said at last, showing pity on his human friend. He smiled reassuringly at him, after casting a quick glance at the darkening sky. “I dare say it’s time for you to go! We don’t want our lovely Evenstar to wait and worry, right?” “Never.” Boromir answered softly, feeling his shoulders unwind some. With a smile of his own, he began climbing down the rope-ladder. “Have fun.” “Yes.” Came the muffled reply some metres below the talan. “And make sure my baby sister enjoys herself.” “I’ll do my best.” Boromir assured, hopping from the rope-ladder onto the ground. Elrohir’s voice followed him when he went deep through the mallorn-trees. “Take her back to her talan before Midnight.” “As always.” He yelled back. “Oh, and you know that you can’t cross a certain line with her, unless you’re married, right?” “Of course.” Beat. “W-WHAT?!” Elrohir rolled his eyes with a smirk, waving at the shocked-looking Boromir from the talan. “I said go, Boromir. Bye-bye.”
* * * * *
Boromir arrived under Arwen’s talan feeling a distinct lump forming in his throat. It didn’t help in the slightest that he found the Lady Galadriel walking ‘accidentally’ near the talan and coming to greet him with a smile. “Dear Boromir!” She said softly. “How long!” he curtsied humbly, trying hard not to stutter as he told her how honoured he was to see her again, and just how thankful he was that she let them into her Golden Wood. She moved her hand before her slowly, gracefully, and told him he’d always be welcome in those woods. Boromir nodded at her words, and excusing himself he started to climb the rope-ladder, when Galadriel grabbed his arm and pulled him back with the strength of a thousand Orc-kids wrestling on the last box of chocolate pocky in a convenience store – if they *had* convenience stores and pocky in Mordor… but I digress.
After a couple of seconds staring dumbfounded at the deceptively slim hand cutting the blood-flow in his arm, Boromir dared look up at the Lady’s face, finding her trademark sweet smile in place. “She’s still getting dressed, dear Boromir. You know that you really shouldn’t see her before she’s done.” She said, nodding her head slightly. “Right. Uhm… with all the due respect milady, me and Arwen are not getting married.” “Of course not, dear.” Now why did that look like her typical, ‘so you think, but I know better’ smile…?!
* * * * *
Her bow bathed in sweat, Éowyn picked up the phial of red liquid Gandalf had mixed for her, and carefully rained its sweet-smelling content over those few cookies that actually had no trace of soap or salt or polishing gel or petrol in them, and that additionally were not even burned. Once she was done she watched them, smiling delightedly at the aroma they now exuded. “Done!!!” She shouted then, clutching to her chest the trail of cookies. She could barely contain herself from bouncing around the kitchen. Elladan watched her from his seat, elbows on the table and chin on his cupped hands. His face was a slight shade of grey after having to try out all of her the previous, inedible attempts, burned and not; but all in all he looked like he’d be back to health very soon. At one point during Éowyn’s bouncing he opened his mouth to say something, but he was silenced rather abruptly when she caught his arm and hauled him outside at warp-speed. “Let’s go find Boromir!!!! I can’t wait to have him taste them!” “BOROMIR?!” Elladan spluttered. “I thought you said you were OVER him! That you know he and ARWEN are in LOVE (even if they’re too stupid to realize it, I quote). That you wouldn’t try to make a move on him EVER AGAIN! That you were trying to MATCH them UP!” “Oh, come on, El.” “Elladan.” “Sure, sure. No need to worry: you know you’ll always be my favourite guinea pig. And I *am* matching them up. Only, I need him to eat these if I want my plan to work, El.” “It’s Elladan. And I’ve a *really* bad feeling about all this.” “You’re so silly, El!” “ELLADAN!”
* * * * *
“Haldir, *please*.” “No.” “Please?” “I said no.” “Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease????????” “NO.” Legolas pouted. “Oh… why can’t you let me…?” “The Aurêl asked me not to.” The Lórien Elf shook his head, folding his arms across his chest. Legolas looked ready to kill. “You know perfectly well that *I* AM THE AURÊL!” He screamed, clamping both hands against his mouth one moment after, glaring at Haldir as he eyed the Prince with a raised eyebrow. Legolas quickly looked about, as though expecting Aragorn to have heard his outburst. Once he’d decided no one was around he moved his hands away, glaring at Haldir through his lashes. “What has Éowyn got to do with this? She told me she would let me--” I’m not blushing. I’m not blushing. I’m not blushing. My cheeks burn and tingle all over and Haldir his smirking at me knowingly, but I’m *not* blushing. “--spend this evening with Aragorn, given that we’re leaving so soon. She knows as well as the two of us that tonight is a very special night… how could Éowyn of all people ask you to hinder me so?” “Legolas, Legolas, Legolas…” Haldir tutted, shaking one finger in front of the Prince’s nose. “Tonight isn’t just ‘special’, my Prince. ‘Tis the night of Nimrodel! The night in which all lovers are blessed, especially those that drench themselves in the water of the stream named Nimrodel! ‘Tis the only night of the year in which the magic of love touches every creature’s heart! And not only that! 5000 years have passed since the death of Nimrodel, the beautiful Elf Maiden that gives the name to out beloved stream, and never again there will be a night as magical as *this*! Love will prevail over everything tonight! It will know no boundaries or limits anymore! Elbereth herself will give her blessing to the lovers that will touch the water of Nimrodel, tonight!!!” Haldir said, his voice hitting a squawking, excited note on the last words. Legolas was watching him with flat eyes. “Right.” Pause. “That’s exactly *WHY* I asked you to let me dine along the riverbank with Aragorn, damn it! So that we can touch the water and be blessed!” Haldir looked at him sheepishly. “I’m sorry, my Prince, I really am. But my Lady Galadriel has ordered to see that another couple dines here and is touched by the water of Nimrodel, tonight.” “And what *exactly* has Éowyn to do with all of this?” Haldir shrugged. “I didn’t really understand, but she cried out something about blind enamoured idiots, ‘it’ being no fun without competition, and even added something about playing matchmaker. Not to mention *what* exactly she and the Golden Lady threatened to do to my backside if I let anyone disturb Arwen and Boromir tonight.” He shuddered at the memory of how Éowyn and Galadriel had spent the last days planning to match Arwen and Boromir up, sounding not unlike two extremely excited, silly teenagers. “Arwen and Boromir.” “Yes.” “Tonight.” “Yes.” “And Éowyn wants to match them up. *Éowyn*. *Them*.” “Yes… she’s even making some cookies to gift them. I heard she wanted to shape them as hearts and fill them with a love potion or something.” “*Love potion*” “To put it nicely.” “*Nicely*” “In truth I suspect it’s an aphrod--” Legolas’s hand promptly shut him up. “No need to get into details.” He stood a moment, then sighed softly. “Do you think I could at least take some water with me, so that Aragorn and I can be blessed all the same?” “Why not.” Haldir shrugged. “Come, follow me. We don’t have much time before Arwen and Boromir arrive.” He ran away, laughingly daring the Prince to get him. With a laugh of his own, Legolas began to chase after one of the few persons he really considered friends.
* * * * *
Aragorn must own the whole collection of the “Bad Timing Magazine: the Complete Guide of the Things to Never Do or Say in Any Case Unless You Wish for Hell to Break Loose” since issue number 0, because that night he did the only thing that could -quoting part of the Magazine’s title- cause Hell to Break Loose.
Since he could not sleep, troubled as he was by his upcoming marriage, he decided to go and take a walk on the riverside, hoping that hearing the water of Nimrodel rush by would relax him. Go figure; the moment he reached the river: a) Éowyn came crashing in as well, with Elladan nearly knocking her over and into the water when she stopped dead in her tracks; b) Boromir and Arwen (thankfully dressed in a normal silky gown) strolled down a bridge and to the shore, and coming to a stop few inches from the water’s reach, stared owlishly at the others. c) Last and worst of all, Legolas appeared as well, laughing merrily at a still flushed Haldir when the Lórien Elf swooped and caught him in his arms.
Time froze. Literally. Aragorn would not think what was *his* Elf doing in another’s arms. Then something clicked deep in his mind. *His* Elf into *another*’s arms. Hell_broke_loose.
“LEGOLAS! I THOUGHT YOU LOVED *ME*!” “ARAGORN, I CAN EXPLAIN!” “HALDIR, I KILL YOU!!!!!” “MILADY AURÊL, I BEG YOU, HAVE MERCY! MILADY ARWEN, HELP!” “GET LOST, HALDIR!” “DON’T MIND HIM, BOROMIR! HERE, EAT THESE!” “WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO, POISON HIM?!” “ARGH! MY PRECIOUS COOKIES! EL, LET ME AT HER! LET ME AT HER!!” “CALM DOWN!” “MY LOVE, WHAT DOES HALDIR HAVE THAT I DON’T? IT’S BECAUSE HE’S IMMORTAL?” “ARAGORN, *PLEASE*!!” “NO! NOT IN THE WATER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
*Splaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaash*
From their hiding spot in the bushes, Elrohir and Gandalf both raised an eyebrow at the seven who were splashing/drowning/trying to kill one another in the Nimrodel’s water (pick your choice), and then turned as one to look pointedly at Galadriel. “I thought you said everything would go smoothly.” Gandalf muttered. The Lady of the Woods looked flustered. “Is it my fault, if there were interferences in the mirror?”
TBC Well, I admit it’s scary: this chapter has written itself. The cookies, the dinner, the water, the blessing…I had no idea of what I was writing, I just typed and typed until this came out. Next time: Legolas thinks he should give up to try and seduce Aragorn… especially since the Man is angry because of Haldir… Then again, they *have* touched Nimrodel’s water… does it mean that Elbereth has blessed their love? Does it mean that they’ll finally get their long-awaited love scene…? Hoping it won’t take me long to post the next chapter, (but I wouldn’t bet on it) I leave you to… review! ^_^
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