DEBBIE DOES THE TWO TOWERS
Chapter Seven: Beautiful Stranger
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"Thanks, Figwit! That was fun!" Debbie blew a kiss to the handsome but
tired-looking elf who was lounging back on the silk-draped couch. He
managed a languid wave in reply as Debbie shut the door. She smoothed her
hair, humming a little tune, and wandered down the hall toward Elrond's
study. As she expected, she found the elf-lord at his desk, his noble brow furrowed in concentration and his tongue protruding slightly between his lips as he tapped furiously at the keys of Debbie's computer. Fortunately he had placed it in the sun to keep the solar battery recharged. Debbie sat down opposite him and waited for a good moment to get his attention. When Elrond showing no signs of stopping after fifteen minutes, Debbie daintily cleared her throat. "Lord Elrond? Could I have a word with you?" "Mmm," he answered, not taking his eyes off the screen. "It's about Aragorn..." Elrond scowled as his elegant fingers continued to fly. "I don't see how Arwen's desire to marry that...Man is any of your business." "She's miserable, Elrond. Don't you want her to be happy?" "Of course. But I know she'll be unhappy with...him...in the long run." "But you, like, raised Aragorn and all, right?" "Yes. Your point?" "If you put the laptop down and stop playing Tetris for a minute, I'll explain." Elrond sighed. "Fine. There, it's paused. Now...?" "If you raised Aragorn, he's pretty much got elf values, right? All he's missing is the immortality." "Yes...this isn't changing my mind, you know." "I'm not finished. If she goes for the immortality, Arwen's gonna have a limited number of elven mates to choose from. As I see it--with me?" "Yes, yes. That was a good game I had going, you know." "You can get back to it in a minute. As I see it, top on the list of available elf males in your eyes is Figwit. You do realize where Figwit's been the last couple of days, right?" "I...enlighten me." "You look like you have a headache. Want another Advil?" Elrond clenched his teeth. "Tell...me...about...Figwit." "I don't think I have to, really." "He? And you? And he?" "Right. So much for 'the restraint of an elf,' huh?" Elrond moaned. "So really," Debbie continued, "It's back to the fact that Aragorn's a mortal, and that's minor. Don't you remember what it was like to be in love?" Unexpectedly, Elrond's eyes filled with tears. "It's been so long..." he murmured sadly. Debbie handed him a kleenex. "Oh, you poor dear," she said, coming around the table to sit on his lap. She stroked his intricately-knotted hair sympathetically. "Your wife's in the West, isn't she? I'll bet you haven't had any fun in a long time." Elrond pouted, shaking his head, all thoughts of Tetris high scores momentarily forgotten. ********* "Elrond, I think you made up that bit about elven restraint. Unless you meant the thing with the silk scarves." Debbie was amusing herself by trying on one of Elrond's satin dressing gowns. She admired her reflection in the full-length mirror. Purple always had been her color. She turned to see Elrond sitting up on the bed, a peculiar mixture of bliss and horror on his face. "Restraint..." he groaned. "What have I done?" "What *haven't* you done?" Debbie asked with a wink. "I need a drink." Elrond looked around for his dressing gown, realized that Debbie was wearing it, and selected another from his spacious wardrobe. He pulled it on as he strode from the room, Debbie following behind him. "Was it that bad?" Debbie called. "You seemed to be having fun at the time." Elrond stomped down the corridor directly to an ornately carved cabinet, opened it, and began to rummage within. "That's it exactly," he moaned. "This is unforgivable." "Not really. You're only hu--oh, wait. Well, you're male, and most males I know have the same healthy reaction you did when they're with me. Well, maybe not in the same positions--" Elrond produced from the cabinet a small decanter and an even tinier glass. He fumbled with the stopper and poured the clear liquid into the glass as soon as he got it open. "Down the hatch!" he cried, tossing back the shot in one draught and immediately following it up with another. Then, unexpectedly, he began to giggle madly. "Sure was fun, though! Haven't had so much fun since m'wife...m'wife...aw, m'wife went to the West without me and I'm lef' behind...." He hiccuped. "DADDY!" A disheveled-looking Arwen entered and strode forward angrily. "What?" Debbie and Elrond asked together. Arwen made an exasperated noise. "He really can't hold his miruvor," she told Debbie. She tried to take the bottle from her father's hands, but he snatched it back too quickly for her to grab it. Elrond took a swig directly from the bottle, leaned back against the wall with a beatific grin, and sang softly: "Hey, ho to the bottle I go...to heal my heart and drown my woe...." He paused in his singing to inform them solemnly, "That's a hobbit song, y'know." "Daddy, no!" Arwen scolded. She made another grab for the decanter, and this time she was successful. Elrond slid gently down to the floor, leaned against the cabinet, and promptly fell asleep. Arwen sighed, handing the decanter to Debbie. "He'll be out for a while." Debbie took an experimental sip of the miruvor before replacing it in the cabinet. It tasted, remarkably enough, like Boone's Strawberry Hill. Meanwhile, Arwen was trying to wrestle her father into an upright position. "Help me get him back to his room," she panted. Debbie and Arwen each grabbed one of Elrond's arms and began to drag him unceremoniously down the hallway toward his private chamber. As they made their way down the hall, a door opened and a handsomely tousled blond male elf looked out. "Arwen?" he called plaintively. "Aren't you coming back to bed?" "In a minute, Glorfindel," Arwen answered sweetly. Debbie raised her eyebrows. "Hey, I thought elves only fell in love once for life?" "Oh," Arwen said with a cheeky smile, "we do. But that's love. This is just sex." "Wow," said Debbie with new respect.
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