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::: Elrohir: Missionary to the Shire :::
Title: Elrohir: Missionary to the Shire
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Tolkien's estate owns all the Elfies. :( I just borrow them to play.
Warnings: Jokes about religion and cannabalism. Ye be warned.
Summary: Elrohir goes to the shire to preach the good news of Varda
Note: Yeah. My brain died halfway through this. It are made of suck. Written at John's insistance. Not beta'd.
Once upon a time, a long time ago, in a land not so very far away as you might hope, there was an elf. Now this wasn't such an extraordinary thing at the time, and this elf really did consider himself to be a fairly average elf.
Okay, so maybe his father was the legendary Lord Elrond, descended from the house of Fingolfin and raised by the second son of Feanor, but that wasn't too big a deal really. And so what if his grandmother on his other side was Galadriel, daughter of Finarfin and last of the Noldor Lords of the first age? No one really remembered that sort of thing, anyway.
Anyway, so this fairly average elf had spent most of his life as a ranger, of sorts, killing evil things in the wild. Unfortunately, ever since the little hobbit thing destroyed the ring of Sauron and the veil of darkness had been lifted and his foster brother had married his sister and they'd gone off to rule Gondor, there hadn't been a lot of evil things left to destroy. So our elf, whose name is Elrohir by the way, our Elrohir had to find himself a new career.
It took a lot of soul searching. Elrohir had to try and decide what else was important in his life. What did he do other than killing orcs? He sat and thought and prayed for an idea for days. And then it hit him. Prayer! He could get involved in organized religion somehow! But what would he do? Maybe something that involved travelling, too, since he liked that?
He asked his brother what he thought and Elladan, pointed as ever, suggested he try missionary work. Somewhere far away. Like the shire.
Missionary work in the shire? Sounded great to Elrohir! So off he went to pack the few things he'd need to take the good word of Varda to all hobbit-kind.
Once he got there, however, it seemed like far less of a good idea than he'd originally thought. Most of the hobbits did not seem all that interested in religion at all, much less his religion. He earned himself a lot of blank stares and odd questions.
“Varda? What's that taste like?”
"Why would I want to read about some strange woman who made stars?"
"Pass the ketchup."
All-in-all, it wasn't a very satisfying experience. As far as Elrohir could tell the only thing hobbits actually worshipped was food. And more food. And pipeweed. And sometimes ale. Probably not a horrible life, but Elrohir was sure they would all be much happier if they just welcomed the Star Kindler into their hearts.
So he sat upon his bed at the inn and thought. He thought and thought and tried to figure out how he could show the hobbits just how amazing Varda was. Well, the poor Elf thought so hard that he fell fast asleep!
He was surrounded by hobbits. All the tiny men and women who came up to his waist. And they kept asking him questions about what sort of vegetables he liked. And he could see them all chatting amongst themselves and he wondered what was going on. Eventually one especially tiny hobbit came up to him and said that they were going to try Varda.
"Oh joy!" He thought, at last his work was paying off.
And the hobbits around him suddenly worked together and hoisted him up onto their shoulders. Elrohir was confused but let them, and he looked around for an answer when suddenly he found himself dumped into a large pot of hot water and vegetables!
"We're going to try Varda!" The hobbits said. "We're going to start with her messenger!"
Waitaminute. The hobbits were going to eat him! Elrohir screamed.
And promptly woke up.
A dream. Varda be praised, it was only a dream. Elrohir sat up in his bed and whiped the sweat from his brow. It was still dark enough that he could go back to sleep for a few more hours, but he was still rather haunted from his dream. So, instead, Elrohir pulled on a robe and wandered down to the kitchen of the inn to see if he could get some tea.
He opened the door and peeked inside. The cook had already started for the morning, and seemed to be cutting up all sorts of vegetables and adding them to a large black cauldron?
To this day, the hobbits still tell the strange story of the elf that ran from the shire that early winter morning, screaming and dressed only in a sleeping robe.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Tolkien's estate owns all the Elfies. :( I just borrow them to play.
Warnings: Jokes about religion and cannabalism. Ye be warned.
Summary: Elrohir goes to the shire to preach the good news of Varda
Note: Yeah. My brain died halfway through this. It are made of suck. Written at John's insistance. Not beta'd.
Once upon a time, a long time ago, in a land not so very far away as you might hope, there was an elf. Now this wasn't such an extraordinary thing at the time, and this elf really did consider himself to be a fairly average elf.
Okay, so maybe his father was the legendary Lord Elrond, descended from the house of Fingolfin and raised by the second son of Feanor, but that wasn't too big a deal really. And so what if his grandmother on his other side was Galadriel, daughter of Finarfin and last of the Noldor Lords of the first age? No one really remembered that sort of thing, anyway.
Anyway, so this fairly average elf had spent most of his life as a ranger, of sorts, killing evil things in the wild. Unfortunately, ever since the little hobbit thing destroyed the ring of Sauron and the veil of darkness had been lifted and his foster brother had married his sister and they'd gone off to rule Gondor, there hadn't been a lot of evil things left to destroy. So our elf, whose name is Elrohir by the way, our Elrohir had to find himself a new career.
It took a lot of soul searching. Elrohir had to try and decide what else was important in his life. What did he do other than killing orcs? He sat and thought and prayed for an idea for days. And then it hit him. Prayer! He could get involved in organized religion somehow! But what would he do? Maybe something that involved travelling, too, since he liked that?
He asked his brother what he thought and Elladan, pointed as ever, suggested he try missionary work. Somewhere far away. Like the shire.
Missionary work in the shire? Sounded great to Elrohir! So off he went to pack the few things he'd need to take the good word of Varda to all hobbit-kind.
Once he got there, however, it seemed like far less of a good idea than he'd originally thought. Most of the hobbits did not seem all that interested in religion at all, much less his religion. He earned himself a lot of blank stares and odd questions.
“Varda? What's that taste like?”
"Why would I want to read about some strange woman who made stars?"
"Pass the ketchup."
All-in-all, it wasn't a very satisfying experience. As far as Elrohir could tell the only thing hobbits actually worshipped was food. And more food. And pipeweed. And sometimes ale. Probably not a horrible life, but Elrohir was sure they would all be much happier if they just welcomed the Star Kindler into their hearts.
So he sat upon his bed at the inn and thought. He thought and thought and tried to figure out how he could show the hobbits just how amazing Varda was. Well, the poor Elf thought so hard that he fell fast asleep!
He was surrounded by hobbits. All the tiny men and women who came up to his waist. And they kept asking him questions about what sort of vegetables he liked. And he could see them all chatting amongst themselves and he wondered what was going on. Eventually one especially tiny hobbit came up to him and said that they were going to try Varda.
"Oh joy!" He thought, at last his work was paying off.
And the hobbits around him suddenly worked together and hoisted him up onto their shoulders. Elrohir was confused but let them, and he looked around for an answer when suddenly he found himself dumped into a large pot of hot water and vegetables!
"We're going to try Varda!" The hobbits said. "We're going to start with her messenger!"
Waitaminute. The hobbits were going to eat him! Elrohir screamed.
And promptly woke up.
A dream. Varda be praised, it was only a dream. Elrohir sat up in his bed and whiped the sweat from his brow. It was still dark enough that he could go back to sleep for a few more hours, but he was still rather haunted from his dream. So, instead, Elrohir pulled on a robe and wandered down to the kitchen of the inn to see if he could get some tea.
He opened the door and peeked inside. The cook had already started for the morning, and seemed to be cutting up all sorts of vegetables and adding them to a large black cauldron?
To this day, the hobbits still tell the strange story of the elf that ran from the shire that early winter morning, screaming and dressed only in a sleeping robe.