1. Velvet Greenmine
Warning: This story contains slash, Mary-Sue, crossovers, and extreme AU elements of the kind enough to make any sane reader or writer cringe. The author bears no responsibility for desecrating the work of the late great Professor, and instead blames the sheer number of like-minded fics out there for her inspiration. That and the weird dreams that plague her whenever she tries to get some shut-eye. Oh, and also the very hazardous images that are Ewan McGregor's Curt Wild and Stuart Townsend's Lestat combined with everybody's favourite Elf.
"Where is he?" Gandalf said. "The audience outside is going mad, and if we do not do anything now, I fear for our lives! We might have braved the fires of Mount Doom, but this - "
"I'll go get him, Gandalf!" Pippin squeaked, and off he ran, abandoning his tambourine to a very upset Merry, who had wanted to be the one to go get the beauteous Elf.
"Legolas!" cried the little Hobbit when he finally stumbled across the beautiful Elf, who was rather preoccupied at the moment. "The performance!"
Legolas had been engaged in a rather full-on making-out session with Elrohir, whose hand was moving rather tellingly in between their pressed-together groins, as feral noises escaped both their throats.
"Quick!" Pippin shrieked as Legolas reluctantly abandoned a displeased Elrohir and followed on, muttering under his breath as he went.
"Where were you?" Aragorn handed him his electric guitar, the jealousy in his voice clear enough. "You've messed up your eyeliner and mascara!"
"Preparing myself," Legolas said coolly, and it was all Aragorn and Boromir could do to not pounce on him and ravish him this moment, for he was looking very ravishing at the moment, dressed only in a pair of tight silver pants with its bulge in front, no thanks to Elrohir's ministrations.
"Let's go!" Gimli grunted.
The screaming outside drew to an even more unbearable volume as the Dwarf appeared and took his place at the drum-kit. Gandalf positioned himself in front of the keyboard, and the four Hobbits trooped onstage with their tambourines, each dressed in cute, matching outfits. The cheering grew louder as Aragorn and Boromir appeared, the bassists of the band that was, originally enough, called The Fellowship.
A loud twang of the bass, and the band started to play, whipping the crowd into a frenzy. The Fellowship were the latest, hottest thing to hit Valinor, with its blend of a new, ground-breaking genre called death mithril, and their latest, strange instruments that were powered by electricity.
In the front row, Elrond sat with Erestor, his lover, and beside him the former Lord and Lady of Lórien, Celeborn with Haldir hanging off his arm. The Valar were too rumoured to be in attendance, but of course they did not show themselves to mere immortals.
A loud explosion, and the front-man of the band appeared suddenly on the stage, bringing the crowd of madly screaming immortals to an even more feverish pitch.
Grabbing the microphone, Legolas thrust out his hips and started singing.
See that cat.
Yeah I do mean you.
Elrohir scowled as Legolas continued his seduction of the audience. He did not like the look on the faces of some of the immortals around him. Elrohir, as the son of the high-Lord of Imladris hated sharing. It was bad enough that Aragorn and Boromir had a share of his Legolas. Now these crazy Elves wanted a piece of him too.
See that cat.
Down her back.
The audience gasped collectively as Legolas suddenly whipped out a bottle of oil and spread it all over his bared chest. The screaming reached higher decibels as glitter soon joined the oil, and Legolas lay himself down on the floor, spreading his legs wide.
Right on, right on, right on.
See that cat.
Jumping up suddenly, the blonde Elf whipped around and mooned the audience, who went crazy - again. Even the normally sedate Erestor was hanging off the edge of his chair, eager to get a closer look.
Elrohir gritted his teeth as Legolas started undoing his laces. Legolas was such an exhibitionist! He believed his (rather well-endowed body) was made to be shared.
On stage, the now-naked Elf was basking in the limelight, loving the lust-filled gazes thrown at him. He let go of the microphone, which he had been writhing around rather seductively and started slamming on his guitar with various parts of his anatomy, his teeth, his elbow, his toes.
The song came to a climax, and Gandalf's fireworks exploded all over the stage.
Legolas had collapsed onto the stage, and suddenly got to all fours and looked at the audience, a seductive grin on his face.
"Come out. Come out, wherever you are."
Suddenly all hell broke loose, as the Valar revealed themselves and flung themselves at Legolas, who flirted with them before flinging them away, but they just kept coming.
Elrohir leapt onto the stage.
"He is mine!" he whined, joining in the melee.
The audience went mad again, loving the carnage as even Boromir and Aragorn plunged into the fray.
A loud explosion, and everybody went still as the figure of a girl suddenly descended from the sky right into the centre of the stage.
"Oh. My. Gawd," said the girl.
Legolas stomped down the corridors after the show, throwing his usual diva-like tantrum. While the audience had loved the show, he had been left feeling rather artistically unsatisfied.
"Oh my god. That was like so cool. Your music just woke me up, and suddenly I'm here! I can't believe I'm actually in Middle-Earth! How cool is this?" the girl who had descended on the concert ran after him, no matter how hard he tried to shake her off.
"For your information, lady, this is Valinor, not Middle-Earth." Aragorn appeared to congratulate the Elf on his stellar performance but disappeared with Boromir on his arm.
"This is so cool," she repeated, and Legolas rolled his eyes at her weird accent.
"My name's Michelle, I'm fourteen and I'm from America!" she continued chatting as Elrohir descended upon him and the pair shared a passionate kiss.
"Oh my gawd! I can't believe you're actually gay! That is just like, so wrong!" she gasped.
"Who's she?" Elrohir asked, already starting to undo the laces on the silver pants.
"Stop that! That's wrong!" she screamed, and started attacking Elrohir.
The pent-house that overlooked the better part of Hollywood was large and dimly and romantically lit.
"You like it?" Legolas asked, dressed in a very fetching gothic get-up complete with her favourite eyeliner and mascara.
"Of course!" Michelle answered, as she curled up on the couch beside him. It had been tough, but eventually her love had won over the heart of the Elven prince, and she had brought him back to America, where he became an instant hit. He had seen the error of his ways and swore to love her for ever and ever.
Oh, and she was immortal now. The Elves offered her a potion to make her so because she allowed them to see the error of their gay ways. Elrohir was staying just a few blocks away with a fifteen year-old girl named Nicky.
Author's Note: If anybody hasn't realised by now, I'm taking the piss with this, I'd loathe for anybody to believe that I would actually write this story seriously.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.