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Myself, <and> the Elf <A LOTR Parody> <Part six of ?>
By Arctapus
Codes: LOTR, A/L and many others, R-ish-to really uh, strange,
parody.
Post: Slashlords, Tolkien_Slash, Middle Earth Tales, and Tolkien
Slash

Disclaimer: No way JRR would allow this. However, I am doing it
for fun and no copyright is implied by the use and misuse 
therein.

Summary: This is a parody, a funny little tarty thing that
inserted itself into my brain even though I have a dozen other
irons in the fire in three fandoms. Sorry fandoms. I have 
learned to listen.

This is a revenge, mixed identity, what is the meaning of 
gender? pretentious thing featuring the lovely and winsome
Legolas and all the other leches that make this universe so 
much fun to spoof. It begins on a dark and stormy night ...

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He hummed as he laid out his maps and other plans for the
domination of the world as he knew it. Which he knew pretty well
since all his life he had been working toward this one moment,
this second in time when it all would coalesce. From the
beginning and now until the end of the world, amen. 

Or something.

Elrond turned and caught his image in the mirror, pausing to
reflect on all the reflected beauty he saw there. He sighed,
enchanted. After all, it wasn't like he didn't work hard to 
keep himself trim. And lord *knows* he worked to hone the 
razor's edge of his magnificent mind. He was a god. Well ... 
his parents were. Sort of. They hung with gods, this he knew. 

Soon he would rule the entire world and all the kings of elves
and men would be his liege men and he would have the biggest 
army in the world and all the women and men would bow down and
*WORSHIP* him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He paused and wiped the spittle off his chin. Turning, he walked
to the table and looked at his maps. There were big red circles
of all the lands of the infidels. Then there was a blue circle
for his own. He liked blue. Then he considered that there was
only one circle. Shaking his head, he conceded that he had been
much too kind as a teenaged wonder bunny. He was out doing good
when all the rest of his generation was being smart-assed and
getting laid. He was being serious and studious when all the 
rest of his generation was wracking up lands and kingdoms and 
he was carrying Gil-galad's spear.

He snorted. You could take that many ways, he considered. Then
the vision of his one true love entered his mind. He paused, 
the old ennui rising through him as the studly body of the one
and only true babe of his dreams flooded the memory cells of 
his really old and really deprived brain. It had unhinged him,
losing his partner and he had never been the same. But he hid
it well. 

Sometime about ten thousand years ago ...

"ELROND!"

He came running, stars in his eyes. "Yes, my petal?"

"Suck my toe."

**POUNCE**!!!!!

Gil-galad smiled. He had a handsome, beautiful and gifted babe
sucking his toe. Life was good. He was getting laid regularly,
his toe fetish was being fed and he had the good mind of the 
Son of Earendil to plumb for information and stuff to make his
own job easier. It was almost too good to be true.

"You're a different kind of guy, Elrond, my little Peredhil. I
have to hand it to you. Considering the witch's brew that is 
your family tree, I have inherited the best of all possible
worlds."

It wasn't easy smiling around a toe but Elrond managed it. He
loved being sweet talked. He loved being taken care of. When 
Gil-galad had plithed his troth ... or something similar to 
that, he had been totally overtaken with job and glee and 
mostly the need to get laid by a very, very, *very* big man. 
In all sense of the world. When it was over and he had 
discovered the greatest mystery of life – how a great big peg 
can fit into a very much smaller hole – he was completely clear
about a number of things.

1.   He would have to get a sitz bath.

2.  He would adore and love and lust after the King of the 
Eldar. *His* king. His. Hishishishishis. So there. 

3.  He would rent some kids from someone and they would have 
a family. He already looked forward to Christmas. 

4.  He would serve his king forever, or until he faced Sauron 
and got burned to a crisp, at which time he would slowly go 
mad until he was in the right frame of mind to marry an 
actual living girl. 

5.  He would hold his nose and remain heterosexual until she 
left him some time in the middle of a big stretch of time,
leaving him holding the bag with their two point five kids, 
the juvenile delinquents Elladan and Elrohir and the Slightly
Slutty Arwen, Evenstar of her People, yadda yadda yadda. 

As if!

6.  He would then, in the long drought of his imposed chastity
slip off the deep end and plan to take over the world, spurred 
on by the rise of the Shadow in the East <tm> and his own
personal history, partly formed by dark promises made in the
midst of time, or so he was told.

7.  Then he'd get a boy friend.

Smiling with delight, he poured himself another bean freeze and
sat in his chair, plans of world domination formulating in his
Spock-like but only partially rational brain. He had been
celibate waaaaay, waaaay too long.

**********Coming up to the river...

Gandalf paused and sighed, the effort of walking across half 
the world more than a pain in his ass. It was clear to him that
forces set in motion years before had taken over and it was all
out of his hands. Elrond had gone bonkers. Aragorn was sulking.

That last part wasn't unusual.

Boromir was casting smirks at the sultry Heir of Isildur and he
was sure there would be words and perhaps violence at dinner
time. He prayed they would eat first.

Bilbo was hanging onto his cloak, the drag becoming tiresome. 
He quelled the urge to kick him like a dog. After all, Bilbo 
made a *great* pillow. 

Legolas was nancing at the end of the line, complaining about 
his nails and starting to slip into the girl tar pit even 
without realizing it. He still tried to be Aragorn's boy 
friend but the taciturn human shivered with the willies each 
time Legolas' boobs hoved into view. The man was a confirmed
fairy.

Frodo and Sam walked together, arguing politics, labor and the
price of cheese all the way from the Shire to this empty vista
and it was beginning to piss him off. Turning, he swept the 
group with his patented bushy-eyed death stare.

"Shut up!"

"We're not talking."

"You are. You, Legolas! Suck it up! Boromir! Quit smirking at 
the Heir of Isildur! Heir, get a smile on your face! No! A
smile!" 

Each of them hut-hutted to the demands of the old bastard and 
in time they were in much better shape. Turning, they peered 
down at the tower that stood before them. It was impregnable,
sort of like Aragorn's disregard for girls.

"That looks like a bitch." –Aragorn.

"It is. However, Gondor will see it through." –Boromir, 
gloating.

"Bite me, Boromir." –Aragorn.

"Make me!" –Boromir.

***KABAM***!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Enough!"

Frodo sighed, staring at the singed hide of his dearest new 
lover (almost) and resolved on the spot, as he helped salve
Aragorn's burned behind, to cut Gandalf's throat too. 

"We're going to put our anger aside and do the right thing. 
That is, we're going to sneak up to the tower and capture 
Saruman the Bitch." 

Everyone stared at Gandalf. "How?" they asked as one.

Gandalf smiled, a frightening prospect to say the least. 
"We're going in disguise."

Everyone swallowed. Hard.

**********In the Tower ...

Saruman turned from his palantir, considering his various
voyeuristic activities of late. He was aware of many things 
...

1.  Elrond was a babe. He would do him. Eventually.

2.  Hobbits could get to be a habit. <he snickered to himself>

3.  Boromir was hot.

4.  Aragorn was hot.

5.  They had third degree burns on their bums.

6.  One hobbit carried a ladder and gave dagger stares at the 
    elf.

7.  The elf had a nice set. <he snickered to himself again>

//... Saruman ... you old dog ... you can still knock them up 
... that is ... well, you get the drift ...//

With a big grin, he turned and walked to his rec room, 
determined to win at darts. If only his orc would stand 
still ...

************On the way to the door of the Tower of Isengard 
...

"I feel stupid."

"I feel girlie."

"I feel like a dwarf."

Gandalf smiled, tugging his costume into place. It had been 
hard conjuring up costumes from nothingness but he had done 
his best. After all, he had the worst costume of them all. 
*He* had to be the elephant.

Behind him, walking along with long faces, two dwarves carrying
oversized boxing gloves and white grease painted faces, a tall
man stripped to a loin cloth and carrying fake bar bells
followed. Boromir, chosen to be Atlas Man Mountain Dean smirked
as behind him, dressed in a clown suit, Aragorn, Heir to
everything his father coveted, reluctantly followed. It had been
hilarious, the argument with Gandalf.

"WHY DO *I* HAVE TO BE OUCHY, THE CLOWN!?! I'M THE EFFING HEIR 
OF ISILDUR!"

Gandalf won but it was touch and go until Legolas burst into
tears, radiant in his pink tu-tu. He was She-Ra, Queen of the
Circus. She/he was to dance and swallow fire. It wasn't like he
hadn't done that before but his/her hormones were playing havoc
with his/her equilibrium.

They wound their way to the door and Gandalf pounded on it with
his trunk, waiting with a simple expression on his elephantine
face for the evil one inside. 

"ALL DELIVERIES ARE AROUND BACK!!!"

"Uh, we're entertainers. Bards. Wandering. Uh, open up and let 
us entertain you."

The door opened and a warty little orc peered out. "Bugger off.
We don't want any."

"Tell your master, you little pox, that the ... the, uh ... 
The Wandering Minstrel Show is here."

The door closed and it was quiet for a moment. Then the door
opened and Saruman appeared, staring at them as they stood
quietly, secure in their clever costumes. He nodded and they
entered, moving to the ballroom and setting up. A quick
conference began as they began to formulate their act. 
Saruman sat on his throne and sighed.

//... a talking elephant ... intriguing ...//

************Rivendell...

He watched as people began to arrive. They were all coming.
Thranduil of Mirkwood, Celeborn and Galadriel of Lothlorien,
Cirdan of the Gray Havens, Todd of the Golden Coast, Jim-Bob 
of the Misty Mountains and Dorie MacLorie of the Highlands. 
All the Elves were coming, all the great kindreds including 
the strange ones just mentioned that were unknown to any but 
the most tortured among them. After all, how easy was it to
explain the blue skinned tinge of Jim-Bob's people to 
outsiders?

Elrond sighed and was glad once again that he was born of
greatness rather than a victim of incest and over-breeding 
like Jim-Bob and his (Big) Wood(y) Elves and the truly Sylvan
Elves of the Golden Coast. They made fairies look tough. But 
they sure knew how to dress, that he would give them. Moving 
to the window, he watched as his in-laws rode in, their
silverness more than just a little intimidating to those who
didn't know them as well as he did.

Few knew the kinky eclectic tastes of Galadriel and the bong 
that was Celeborn's lifeline was seldom far from his hand. It 
was all too easy, Elrond said, moving to greet his guests. 
Jim-Bob and his party was sleeping over the barn, Todd and 
the Boys ... he snickered just a little ... were staying in 
the spa. Of course they were.

Galadriel would stay wherever she wanted, usually up a tree 
in the moonlight and Celeborn would be sprawled on a divan 
while little boys scampered about, staring up his robes. 
Stepping down from his staircase, his two lovers Glorfindel 
and Erestor on each side, Elrond met his guests at last.

"Hello, Celeborn. It's good to see you."

"Hello, Elrond. You look hot. Got any weed?"

They disappeared into the den and weren't seen again until 
dinner.

************Isengard ...

They put on a show. That is, it was supposed to be a show but
that word was kind. There are few words in many languages that
can convey the patheticness of a show with a fake elephant, a
strong man and a bunch of dwarf-things running around hitting
each other with pillows. Only Aragorn saved them, sticking pins
in his torso while Legolas twirled and danced like the Fairy
Queen from Tschaikovsky or something. 

Like that.

Saruman, overcome with lust at the idea of a really kinky
threesome spared all their lives and gave them places to 
sleep. Aragorn and Legolas stood in the dark and slightly
sinister chamber of Saruman while Gandalf was led off 
protesting to the barn. The hobbits, helpless to say no, 
spent the night locked into a pantry. At the array of 
jelly-filled donuts before them, they got over it quickly.

When Saruman came to his chamber, he was stark naked and
smirking. "Now my little squirrelly friends. Entertain me."

Legolas stared at Aragorn and swallowed hard, his tu-tu 
flagging after his earlier exertions. Aragorn turned and
whispered into Legolas' ear. 

"Keep him busy while I look for his spell book."

With a clownish grin, Aragorn disappeared into the shadows,
leaving his lover behind. Saruman, his interest rising, began 
to close the distance between them. Legolas, feeling himself
become vulnerable, did the only thing a guy/girl could do. He
kicked Saruman the White in the nuts.

******************************TBC ***************************