Disclaimer: I don’t own anything mentioned here.

Warnings: extremely mild slash, AU

A/N: Frodo has immortality because of the One Ring.

There is a hint of real people starring here… I don’t know them, and, as far as I know, this didn’t happen. Couldn’t have happened, really. Please, read with an open mind.
Thank you for your attention.
Brynn

Elven And Proud About It

“I have the papers for our new IDs!” a weary, yet at the same time excited voice called from the hall. A clatter indicated that keys were cast carelessly on a shelf, and then came a rustle of a cloak being hung.

Legolas kicked off his shoes and threw his socks into the laundry basket. He padded through the flat to the kitchen, where he could hear the low hum of a computer. The world once used to be so much simpler… but he never really regretted refusing to sail to Valinor. At least America of the third millenium did not get boring.

Frodo sat in front of the display and typed. He was taller than a normal hobbit, tall enough not to arise to much suspicion, even though he never quite reached the height of even an under-average man. He looked away from the keyboard and angled his face up for a kiss, which Legolas bestowed with passion that never dissipated between them. Then he turned to the kettle, checked if there was enough water in it, and switched it on.

“Please, tell me this is a joke,” Frodo choked out, staring at the half-filled papers. They were yet to be completed, and Legolas’s contact was to come and finish the forging of the cards within the next week.

“I wanted names that do us justice,” he replied easily. He was actually quite proud; there was nothing in either of the names that would point directly at them.

“That’s nice, but…” Frodo paused, searching for a way to put it that would be at least somewhat diplomatic, “couldn’t you choose anything less conspicous? I mean, we want to audition for the roles of ourselves and you-”

“Actually, I wanted to play Faramir. I remember him with fondness…” Legolas objected.

“Lassë, you don’t look like Faramir.”

“And? You don’t look like a hobbit.”

“Nobody there will look like a hobbit.”

“And nobody there will look like Faramir.”

Frodo sighed in defeat and rubbed his forehead. He had little chance to win an argument these days – Legolas’s obstinacy did not age.

“Lassë, that name screams ‘elf’,” he said after a while. The elf shook his head.

“There are Men called this, I checked. No one will notice. I promise.”

“You are risking our way of life… we have sacrificed so much…” Frodo reached out and gently touched the soft curl of Legolas’s ear that once used to be pointy. He, himself, sported similar ‘alterations’. “I don’t want to be found out.”

Legolas smiled at him and returned the caress.

“Me neither. It is a risk, melmenya, but the names are the least dangerous about that.”

“I know,” Frodo mumbled, hanging his head down again for a moment. But then he glanced up, and light returned to his eyes. “But it would be fun, would it not? I mean… not the memories, but… like seeing the Middle Earth again.”

“That is why we are doing it.”

Frodo leant back in the chair and stared at the ceiling, ignoring the orange-flashing sign of incoming message. He could already see the waste greenwoods and planes and fields… but nothing could truly bring Endorenna back to life. It was pushed out of existence by so-called civilisation – big, ugly complexes of hideous grey matter. Roads with noisy and smelly cars now drove where once horsemen used to ride… And dwarves, Eldar and hobbits became a mere fairy-tale.

Legolas set about making himself coffee, putting in a spoon of sugar so that he would not become bitter.

“We should pick some totally inconspicuous first names,” Frodo suggested. “Something long and…”

“American?” Legolas finished sarcastically. The hobbit scoffed.

“You can keep American. I’ll go with Christian. No one would expect me to have a Christian name.”

“This is crazy,” the elf said, shaking his head. No matter how many centuries passed, the two of them ever found a way to prevent their lives from becoming boring – often living on edge, but that was a tradition started a long time ago in Rivendell.

“Yes… yes it is,” Frodo agreed. “Maybe we should have stopped at the book. But seeing home again…” He fiercely scowled at the ceiling and kicked the leg of the table. “Getting out of these damned walls!”

“I know… I just hope that you’ll be alright.”

Frodo looked over to him and smiled.

“I will. Even if I get the part, the ring will be a model, not the real thing. It has almost no power over me anymore either way.”

However, Legolas would hardly stop worrying so easily. He fingered the thin band of mithril he wore on his left hand, sitting down to the table.

“I won’t be able to carry mine all the time. Its valie could be noticed-”
He pulled the paper with his new surname to him, and thought of a long first name. Frodo handed him a pen, and he tapped it several times against the desk.

“I’ll be fine,” Frodo waved his concerns away, and continued day-dreaming: “You know… if we had enough money, we could buy a bit of forest somewhere, and build a treehouse.” He leaned over and took a look at what Legolas had written. “That’s Italian, not American.”

The elf raised his eyebrows, and then disbelievingly shook his head.

“You know way too much, melmenya. But most people don’t know that. They’ll think it’s American.”

Frodo shrugged.

“Whatever you say. Italian still sounds un-elven enough.”

“Un-elven? Is that a word?”

“Lassë, ‘Dumbledoresque’ is a word,” Frodo said, rolling his eyes, both at his companion and at the impossible humankind. “‘Un-elven’ sounds completely normal to me.”

“I say it again,” Legolas replied. “You know too much.”

“I read,” Frodo explained.

“I read as well. But I am not Nr. 5.”
Frodo laughed, and it felt good to know that despite the things that were happening to the planet, despite the fact that it was now truly rounded and Valinor was no longer accessible to anyone left behind, despite the fact that they had witnessed and lost so, so much, they could still feel… if not happiness, at least content.

The hobbit surveyed his paper and, with a grin, filled in a single word.

“I still think, though,” Frodo muttered, “that ‘Bloom’ and ‘Wood’ practically screams ‘elven and proud about it’.”