A/N:  This is what happens when you feed me chocolate after midnight.  Somebody wrote a story in the LOTR section that had an original character named ‘Varda’.  Who fell in love with Legolas.  And then had various sentences where Legolas professed his love for ‘Varda’.  And then I looked down and there was a Nuzgul with its teeth sunk into my leg.  So I wrote the damn thing.  Hopefully funny, although also just damn insane.  As usual, this all belongs to the Great One, Tolkien.  I promise to put them back when I’ve finished playing.

Valinor was very beautiful, very peaceful, and very boring.

Legolas bounced up and down on the spot.  He’d already read every book in Finrod’s most extensive library (twenty three thousand, four hundred and twenty four, if you discounted those written in Teleri, which he still had not learned).  Then he’d read them all again.  Then he’d learnt ‘The Erotic Fëanorian Chronicles’ off by heart and chanted them at the top of his voice until Amarie had chased him out with a broom.

That had not been fun.

Then he’d spent some time with Aulë and Gimli in the forge.  By ‘spent some time with’, of course, he meant that he’d run around the forge poking things until some red-headed Noldo had attacked him with a screwdriver.

That had not been fun either.  Besides, how was he supposed to know that that funny contraption would break so easily?

Legolas was beginning to suspect that the Noldor did not have much of a sense of humour.

So when he spotted Frodo sitting up at the top of the hill, he’d sprinted up there as fast as he could.  The Hobbit was growing older now, and he wasn’t as quick as he used to be, but he still had an unerring instinct for certain things, and was sitting next to a quite impressive pile of bright blue mushrooms.

Frodo bit into one, giggling to himself.  “Is it time for tea already?  Your head has gone all wobbly.  Would you like a mushroom?”

He might have suspected that there was something not quite right about the mushrooms, or about the way Frodo was acting, but Legolas was bored.  He shrugged, grabbed a mushroom and took a large bite.  Then he took another bite.  After the third mushroom, he noticed that the grass seemed to be whispering something.

Leaving Frodo behind, (“Farewell, dear Grobbliwots!  Farewell!”), he began to follow the whispers through the grass.  It was quite a winding path, and he almost got distracted at one point when a talking daisy tried to eat his foot, but eventually he found his way to a tall white tower.

Inside, he found a most beautiful maiden.  “What is your name, fair lady?”

She laughed, and her voice was the most beautiful music he had ever head.  “I am Elentari.  Are you quite all right, little Moriquendi?”

“You,” he replied seriously, “are very, very… ooh, I do not feel so well…”

The Valar have fast reflexes, which meant that Varda, happily, was able to catch him before he hit the ground.

-----

“Varda, you may not keep him as a pet!  Elves are messy.  They shed, they leave gemstones lying about the place…”

Legolas woke up, and wished he hadn’t.  His head hurt.  Really hurt.  Would someone please make the walls stop moving now?

In the next room, there seemed to be some sort of argument going on, quite loudly.  Which was a problem, as every noise made his head feel like it was about to explode.  At some point, one of the combatants left, a great gust of wind rustling through the building as the door slammed, and then she came back in.  Holding a cup of tea.

It certainly helped with the headache, but unfortunately it also allowed him to remember quite a lot of what he had been up to the previous night.  He blushed.  Then he looked at Varda again, and blushed harder.

There had once been a poem that had been quite popular for a time in Eryn Lasgalen, that had described Elentari as ‘cloaked in the radiance of the stars’.  What it had failed to mention was that that was all that she wore, and that it wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of modesty.

“Ai Elbereth!” he cried, now turning ruby red, and she smiled.

“That would be me, yes.  Now, pretty little Moriquendi, will you promise not to eat any more of Yavanna’s special mushrooms?”

He nodded weakly.  Ah, yes, the mushrooms.  Maybe he was still hallucinating.

“I was quite impressed with you last night.  I do not know many Elves who have memorised the entirety of the Erotic Fëanorian Chronicles.”  Varda leaned forward.

 “I have a first edition by my bedside table.” she said, as if imparting some mysterious secret.  “The illustrated version.”

Oh dear.  Oh dear oh dear oh dear.

The Valie stood up, gesturing for him to follow.  He just stared, until she poked her head back round the doorway in annoyance.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you it is rude to keep a Goddess waiting?”

Oh dear.  Oh dear oh dear oh dear oh dear…

Oh.  Oooh…

----

“Confound it all, Yavanna, you are not to make any more of those special mushrooms.  Varda’s been locked in the bedroom with that Elf for a week, and the swans of Alqualondë have elected that Hobbit as their King and God, and are dive-bombing the Vanyar.”

Yavanna looked up from painting her nails, and waved a hand lazily.  Manwë continued to rant and rave, but the sound was mostly muffled underneath the plants that had suddenly grown up, around, and on him.

Checking that her nails were now dry, she wandered off in the general direction of the forge, intending to drag her husband out for some fresh air away from that Dwarf for once.

Behind her, tiny pink mushrooms sprung up from the grass of Valinor.

A/N:  Oh.  Dear.  Note to brain: could you please not be so strange?