A/N: Sorry, another long update, but on the plus side the chapter is nearly twice the length of the first chapter, thatÂ’s why it took us so long. Fan fiction has been on my mind far too much recently though. I had a dream that I handed in my last chapter of my other fanfic into my geography teacher instead of my essays. *shakes head*
A/N 2 (Bob): Does anyone actually notice our disclaimers, by the way? Also, I think we forgot to mention that if anyone has any funny suggestions or requests, please feel free to send them to us. Of course, we may well just ignore them, but you never knowÂ…

kazbels: Thank you. If you like that, I think youÂ’ll really enjoy this chapter.

Napolde: *hugs back* I think JB wants to steal your ‘awesometaculspiffyÂ’ word. 😀

Disclaimer: *Sarcastic voice* Yes, I own LotR, thatÂ’s why IÂ’m sitting here writing rubbishy fanfics for zero profit.

Chapter 6: Whatever Happened to Haldir?

Two elves walked into a bar, but thatÂ’s another story.

(&)

Arwen and Galadriel walked into the trendiest of trendy bars in Lothlorien. It was extremely trendy, with great big glass windows, white-washed walls hung with abstract paintings and large mirrors (you can see why Galadriel came here), and a bar made from chrome and marble, behind which were Chilean wines and alco-pops at vastly inflated prices.
The two elven ladies walked over to the bar and sat down on the twirly stools there.
“What can I get you two ladies?” asked Gandalf from behind the bar, polishing a wine glass. Galadriel turned to look out of the window, into the square.
Arwen looked at the cocktail list. “I’ll have a Long Isen Ice-Tea, and Galadriel will have a…” Arwen paused to receive Galadriel’s mental message, “white wine.”
“Just one bottle will do,” Galadriel said, turning towards the barman.
Gandalf placed a glass in front of Galadriel and slung the towel over his shoulder. Pulling back the long sleeves of his robe, he started mixing the cocktail.
While they waited, Arwen turned to Galadriel, “I didn’t get a good chance to talk to you at the random party at my Ada’s house.”
“Yes, it did get rather interrupted by that whole poisoning business. Most inconsiderate, if you ask me. Of course, I foresaw it would happen.”
“Naturally,” Arwen agreed. “In fact, now that I have thought on it, we have not spoken in depth since you left to sail into the west. I expected never to see you again.”
“It’s a bit of a long story.”
Gandalf placed the drinks in front of them. “Maybe I should explain. After all, I am the expert at long explanations.”
He crossed his arms on the bar and leaned forward conspiratorially. Arwen twirled the umbrella from her cocktail, expecting something long and tedious. Galadriel was looking back out through the window again.
“We journeyed from the Grey Havens for four days, meeting neither man nor beast. The waves swelled and beat the sides of the ship, calming the souls of those tired of life on Middle-Earth. If any among us had been ill-at-ease on our departure-”
Arwen interrupted; “Is this story actually going anywhere? Honestly, sometimes you sound like an Ent!”
Gandalf harrumphed and muttered something about being hasty. “Very well, I will indulge your impatience. When we got to Valinor they had moved it.”
“What?!!1!one” Arwen exclaimed. Galadriel turned and raised an eyebrow in a way that expressed everything that needed to be said. All elf lords and ladies are taught this skill from an early age. Elrond was widely acknowledged as the master, but Galadriel enjoyed using it from time to time.
“Aha!” Gandalf said smugly, “Now you want context. As you wish: we arrived at the location of the Undying Lands, but found neither sight nor sound of them. Evidently, the Valar will not deign to let such as us into their kingdom. It is a true testament to the power of the Valar over our world.”
“Oi, Barman!” someone conveniently interrupted.
“Excuse me, I’m being called away,” and with that he left, his robe sleeve knocking over someone’s wine glass on the way.
“Truly, that is a remarkable story, grandma,” commented Arwen as they left the bar stools to find somewhere to sit.
“It’s also a load of tripe,” Galadriel said as she sat down on a plush leather sofa. Arwen sat down facing her.
“So, what did happen then?”
“To my total lack of surprise, we got lost.”
Arwen rolled her eyes upwards. “Men.”
“I know. I told them that turning left all the time wouldn’t get them to Valinor.”
Arwen sighed and shrugged. “It’s always with the left.”
“They wouldn’t even stop for directions like any reasonable elf.”
“They’re always so concerned with preserving their manly pride. You’d think they might prioritize eternal peace in the land of the Gods over their pride, but it seemeth not. Aragorn’s just the same. At least Faramir knows when to ask a woman for help.”

—-Meanwhile in Minas Tirith—-
Lady Eowyn sat in the Stewards chair, polishing her nails.
“My lady, your plan was a stroke of genius,” said an advisor.
“I’m sure that Faramir would have thought of it eventually.”
“Oh no, Eowyn, it would never have occurred to me to allow the cliff face to collapse onto the prison where the explosives were being held.” Faramir’s head was rested on Eowyn’s knee, and every now and then he would sigh gratefully.
At that moment, the diplomat from the southern cities entered, carrying a large piece of parchment. “Lady Steward, we have decided to dissolve our alliance and rejoin the kingdom of Gondor. The concessions you offered us are exceptionally reasonable, while not inconveniencing Minas Tirith in any way. Your negotiation skills are admirable, as is your knowledge of southern lore and traditions. We are ready for you to sign the treaty immediately.”
Eowyn took the pen she was handed and gave it to Faramir “You’re the steward darling, you have to sign all official documents.”
“Ah, but I will always defer to you. You are so much more wise and cunning than me.”
“I know. Now why don’t you sign that and run off to make me some tea.”

“Do you mind if we switch places?” Galadriel asked Arwen. They both stood up and switched places so that Galadriel was facing the wall and Arwen could see out of the window to the bin Gimli was hiding in, with a pair of binoculars.

(&)

Celeborn glared at Gimli as he and Aragorn walked past and into the pub behind GimliÂ’s bin.
It was the gruffest of gruff pubs in Lothlorien. The windows were of dusty, misted glass, of the kind that lets hardly any light in. All furniture was made of good solid oak. All of it, from the stools to the tables, to the bar, to the oak panelling on the walls. Dozens of animal heads had been stuffed, mounted and hung up by the regulars. Every so often, a piece of crockery would come flying across the room from the perpetual brawl that raged to one side. The only woman in the entire building was a busty bar wench, who served customers one or more of the two drinks available: ale and rum.
Aragorn and Celeborn sat down on a wobbly bench at one of the tables.
“Oi! Barmaid,” shouted Celeborn, “Two drinks over here now.”
“Screw you!” she shouted back.
“They’ll be along in a minute,” he told Aragorn.
“Which drinks are we getting?”
Celeborn shrugged. “Luck of the draw.”
Aragorn leaned forward, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Gosh, it disturbs me to see you Celeborn, looking so down in the dumps.” He gestured to the manly crowd. “Everyone here wants to be you Celeborn, even when taking your lumps.” The crowd cheered, raising their ale mugs into the air, spilling large quantities of ale.
“I’m fed up with dwarves eyeing up my wife. It makes me feel so insecure, but she just thinks it’s funny.”
“I know what you mean,” replied Aragorn. “Everyone knows that Arwen’s the most beautiful woman in Gondor. People take the flimsiest excuses to come to Minas Tirith and chat her up. I’ve heard them all; ‘I left my horse here’, ‘I heard about this new restaurant’, ‘I live here’. Someone came to the palace, pretending to be an envoy of peace from the Haradrim, and I decided that I’d had enough. I just had his head lopped right off.”
“Hang on a minute, I think I heard about that. When was it?”
“About two years back, just before that unfortunate war business.”
Celeborn looked like he was about to comment on this, but changed his mind. “At least they’re all proper men, a worthy opponent. I have the embarrassment of competing with a bearded stunty. Gimli just gets right up my nose. Next time he tries something on I’m going to slap him so hard…”
“Shh! This is a manly pub. You’ve got to punch, man, punch!”
“To be fair, I get the impression that she’s becoming tired of it too. She’s been around long enough that she’s got the experience to be classy about it. You know, dropping subtle hints like telling him to stop it.”
“Yeah, I’ve always admired that kind of subtlety.”
The barmaidÂ’s hips swished towards them, accompanied (as they so often are) by the rest of the body. She set two full pint tankards in front of them, one with ale and the other with rum. They paid her and immediately took large swigs followed by heavy coughs and winces. When the barmaid walked away, looking confused, Celeborn tapped Aragorn on the shoulder.
“You forgot to slap her on the arse,” he hissed.
“But I’m a married man.”
“What’s that got to do with it?”
At that moment, they were approached by a tall man with improbably large muscles and a chin cleft big enough to ski down. “Excuse me, but that is my table. The only person allowed to sit there is I, Gaston-”
“And I, Le Fou.”
Le Fou was immediately knocked to the ground by a blow from Gaston.
Celeborn wasn’t intimidated. “I don’t see your name on it. What do you suggest we do about it?”
“Well, maybe you should stand up and move on.”
Aragorn stood up. “Well, maybe I should stand up and smash your face in.” He rolled up his sleeve in preparation.
Gaston looked angry for a moment, but then he grinned and slapped Aragorn on the back. The blow would have knocked a less kingly man to the ground.
“I like you!” he said. “You’re needlessly violent. Come have a drink with me. I was just discussing my plans to marry Belle and kill the Beast.”
At that moment a young man flew past from the continuous brawl and hit the wall behind them.
“No thanks, er, Gaston,” Celeborn said, as if nothing had happened. The young man stood up, unnoticed, dusted himself down and returned to the fight, fists flying.
As they were leaving, they stepped aside and admitted a man dragging a dead bear behind him. He walked over to the bar and leaned on it.
“Barman,” he said in a gruff, manly voice. “I just killed this bear with one arm tied behind my back. I would like it stuffed and mounted on your wall.”
“Oh, I’m not sure if we have enough room, and it’s just not impressive enough to replace any on the wall.”

(&)

As we return to Arwen Evenstar and her granny, they are talking about the men in their life.
“You certainly have yours well trained,” said Galadriel. “I liked that thing with the cake back in Imladris.”
“I certainly enjoyed it. I only wished he got the right room, but I suppose you can only expect so much.”
“Don’t lose heart so easily. It took me centuries to get Celeborn following instructions properly. But it’s worth it for the occasional … pleasant surprise.”
“Just as long as it’s not more shallow complements. Honestly, just because my stunning beauty is legendary, everyone around me feels the need to spout cheesy chat-up lines. For example, how many times are they going to pretend to mistake me for Luthien? It was cute the first time, but after a while it’s, like, get some originality. I’m not really that similar.”
“Of course not,” Galadriel said in a comforting voice, “She had much bigger tits than you, for a start.”
She glared at Galadriel, but said nothing.

(&)

Lord Kanolhachkirraukoturgilarsergedhelthalion, Gaurbrith and Haldir walked into a bar … on Tatooine. The bar was dimly lit and was filled with ‘aliens’ (mostly actors in unconvincing prosthetic faces of unlikely colours). Catchy futuristic jazz was the mood music and ugly was the mood. In one corner sat Obi-Wan Kenobi, Luke Skywalker and Lieutenant Commander Worf.
“Quark tells me you’re looking for passage to the Alderan system,” said Commander Worf.
“Yes indeed,” replied Obi-wan, “if it’s a fast ship.”
“A fast ship? You’ve never heard of the Defiant?”
“Should I have?”
“No you shouldn’t; it’s in a completely different universe. However it’s the one that made the Hobbiton to Rivendell run in less then 12 parsecs.”
“Hang on a minute,” said Luke, slightly more on-the-ball than usual. “Isn’t a parsec a measurement of distance, not speed?”
Worf sighed gruffly. “There are two schools of thought on that. The first is that they could pass through an asteroid belt by an unusually direct route, and the second is that the script-writers got it wrong. Take your pick.”
As the elves sat down, Lord Kanolhachkirraukoturgilarsergedhelthalion wondered to himself why he was here. After all, it wasnÂ’t as if he actually liked Gaurbrith.
They all acquired drinks in the usual, boring way. Gaurbrith started the conversation with a completely irrelevant comment.
“Hold on,” replied Haldir, “Who are you again?”
Gaurbrith sighed. “My name is Gaurbrith, I’m a half…” He was interrupted by a burst of hysterical laughter from Haldir. Then he laughed again, and again. Finally he managed to stop laughing and get his grin under control by looking studiously away from the half-elf’s face. Gaurbrith was about to speak again when Haldir looked into his face again and snorted back into extended giggles.
Eventually, with a final booming guffaw, the elven warrior ground to a halt. “Seriously lad,” he said, “what is your name?”
“Seriously it’s Gaurbrith.”
“Seriously, he’s serious,” Lord Kanolhachkirraukoturgilarsergedhelthalion put in.
“But that’s a silly name. Don’t you agree Lord Kanolhachkirraukoturgilarsergedhelthalion?”
“It’s true I’ve never heard such a ridiculous name.”
“It’s nearly as ridiculous as being killed at Helms Deep!” He waited expectantly.
“What the hell is the problem with my name?”
“Look it up in the back of the Silmarilion some time. In the mean time, though, go get us some more drinks.”
Gaurbrith wandered up to the bar, counting his change, wondering if they drank the same thing on Tatooine as they did on Middle Earth.
As he was ordering, something grunted at him: something ugly, with a giant, knobbly forehead. It rather reminded him of Gimli. He tried to ignore it, but it pushed him and grunted again.
“He doesn’t like you,” interrupted a pig-nosed alien. “I don’t like you either.”
Gaurbrith wasnÂ’t exactly sure how to respond to this, so he settled for panic-stricken gaping.
“You better watch yourself, we’re wanted men. I have a death sentence in 12 systems.”
“Is any of them Middle Earth?” Gaurbrith found himself saying.
“No. In Middle Earth we just have ASBOs preventing us from going into Mirkwood, Hobbiton, Moria, Rohan, Minas Tirith, the Grey Havens… in fact everywhere but here, Rivendell, and Mordor. But we don’t like Mordor. There’s no-one to beat up there. Anyone from Rivendell is fine by us, though.”
“Er, I’m from near Rivendell. Is that OK?”
The criminal alien squinted at him. “Whereabouts?”
Gaurbrith told him the name of his village. The alien considered this for a moment. “That’s not close enough.”
“I’ll be careful, then,” said Gaurbrith, returning to the original dialogue.
“You’ll be dead!”

“Hey! Some guys are picking on Gaurbrith!” said Haldir.
“Who?” replied Lord Kanolhachkirraukoturgilarsergedhelthalion with mild curiosity.
*THWACK!*
Lord Kanolhachkirraukoturgilarsergedhelthalion turned around. “Oh yes. So he is.”
The big-forehead guy kicked Gaurbrith in the stomach.
“Shouldn’t we help him?” asked Haldir.
“Why?”
Haldir looked slightly surprised by this reply. As the two thugs put the boot in, Gaurbrith was screaming and begging for help.
“I think I’d better go and help him,” said Haldir.
“Knock yourself out,” Lord Kanolhachkirraukoturgilarsergedhelthalion shrugged. Haldir walked towards the bar. Gaurbrith gave a particular loud yelp. “Even better,” the elven noble muttered, “knock that peredhil out.”
Haldir drew his sword and tapped the alien on the shoulder at the same time. The blade flashed, and the arm of the man started spurting blood. He looked down at it.
“Hang on; you didn’t chop it off properly.”
“I knew my blade needed sharpening.”
“Here, would you like another go?” He held out his damaged arm so Haldir could get a good swing. After a few more hacks, the arm finally thudded to the ground.
As the two aliens fled the bar, Haldir wiped his sword off on the severed arm. With an admirable show of balance, Haldir picked up their tray of drinks with one hand and hauled Gaurbrith to his feet with the other.

Gaurbrith sat in his stool, whimpering, as the conversation continued.
“I had wondered,” said Lord Kanolhachkirraukoturgilarsergedhelthalion, “what you’re doing here?”
“Oh, this and that,” replied Haldir. “I work as the captain of the guard for Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. I have recently been moonlighting as a Lothlorien tour guide. The pay sucks, of course, but the tips are great.”
“‘Sucks’?” Gaurbrith spoke up. “Is that Elvish for ‘wonderful’?”
Lord Kanolhachkirraukoturgilarsergedhelthalion whacked him round the head, prompting another fit of whimpering.
“That wasn’t exactly what I meant,” the elven lord continued.
“I’m not sure I follow you.”
“That nasty mess at Helms Deep…”
Haldir sighed. “Ah, all those poor victims of cruel war.”
“I was talking about the mess that was made of the back of your head.”
Comprehension finally dawned. “Oh! You mean my ‘death’?” He held up two fingers on each hand in the universal management symbol for ‘in quotes’. “There’s a perfectly rational, reasonable explanation for that.”
“I’m listening,” said Lord Kanolhachkirraukoturgilarsergedhelthalion doubtfully.
“The elf who was killed …. was my evil twin brother.”
Lord Kanolhachkirraukoturgilarsergedhelthalion would have sighed were he not a noble elf lord. “Reasonable and rational?..”
“I just nipped into the fortress for a minute, to go to the toilet and when I came out, Aragorn was cradling his corpse. I would have gone over to him but he looked like he was having a bit of a ‘moment’, so I let him be.”
By now, Gaurbrith had recovered enough to re-enter the conversation, but he was still feeling rather disgruntled. “What are we doing on Tatooine anyway? I thought we were supposed to be in Lothlorien?”
Lord Kanolhachkirraukoturgilarsergedhelthalion smiled, but said nothing.
“While we’re on unexplained things, why didn’t Elrond just tell us who had been poisoned? Or Galadriel, who can read people’s minds, has a nifty magic mirror and knows everything?”
“All Elf lords and ladies reserve the right to be enigmatic,” Lord Kanolhachkirraukoturgilarsergedhelthalion replied. “I think it was handed down by the Valar at some point.”
“What about wizards?”
“Them too.”
“What about you? Aren’t you an elf-lord?”
Lord Kanolhachkirraukoturgilarsergedhelthalion exercised his right. Gaurbrith glared at him. “I’m going to bed.”
As they left the bar, they saw Merry and Pippin walking through the Mallorn trees towards them.
“I can’t be bothered with this!” grumbled Lord Kanolhachkirraukoturgilarsergedhelthalion.
“Ah! Mr. Elf Lord, I was hoping I’d bump into you,” said Pippin, with more cheer then several series of ‘Cheers’ and ‘Frasier’ put together.
Lord Kanolhachkirraukoturgilarsergedhelthalion passed his hand in front of the hobbit’s eyes. “These aren’t the elves you’re looking for.”
“These aren’t the elves we’re looking for,” repeated Pippin.
“You’re going to stop bothering us now.”
“We’re going to stop bothering you now.”
“Now sod off.”
“Now sod off.”
“No, you sod off.”
“No, you sod off. Oh, right! Bye.”
As the hobbits walked off, Haldir turned to Lord Kanolhachkirraukoturgilarsergedhelthalion. “Weak minded?”
“You have no idea…”

End of Chapter 6