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Hey guys, this little one-shot is a stand alone work—no connections to any of my other fics. Enjoy! 🎉🧝🏻♂️🎉
Legolas swore fluently. First in elvish, and then in dwarvish for good measure.
Damn hobbits. Damn nosy hobbits. What had they been thinking? He ground his teeth together again.
If it weren't enough for them to talk Aragorn into having a blasted birthday party for him at Minas Tirith, they had done the unspeakable. The worst betrayal possible.
They had invited his father.
Legolas pulverized the lovely parchment invitation that had been slipped under his door and then hurled it across his chamber. He knew better than to blame Frodo, even though his name was included on the list of hosts. No, no, no, credit lay entirely with that fool of a Took and that blasted Brandybuck! He should have let the both of them perish at the hands of the Uruk hai.
Ai! He knew that his friends had the best of intentions, that they worried about him. Him! An elven prince and, it must be said, deadly warrior, and he had hobbits trying to mother him. For the last month, Sam had been surreptitiously trying to give him second helpings at dinner (at least Sam thought he was being covert; to Legolas it was blazingly obvious). Then Pippin had wheedled out of him what his begetting day was.
Legolas knew or guessed that Gimli and Aragorn must have shared the occasional conversation about him. The dwarf and Aragorn were, naturally, more sly when it came to checking up on him. Aragorn at least understood his sense of pride in these matters, the need to maintain appearances.
So whose brilliant idea was it to throw him a birthday party? And invite his father?
Those dimwits had the temerity to invite his father—his father whom Legolas had not written or spoken to in a year since the prince had coolly walked out of the throne room in Mirkwood with his father still shouting behind him. The echoes rang down the hall. He had collected his few things and left for Ithilien within minutes.
A knock sounded abruptly at his door. It had to be the dwarf. No one else pounded that way.
Legolas growled and snatched the door open. "What?" he said, his voice a low menacing hiss.
"Ah, laddie, you saw the invitation then," the dwarf surmised, letting himself into the room, barely paying heed to the scowl on his friend's face. Oh, he noticed that the elf's ears were an unflattering shade of red and the icy tint to his eyes. He just didn't care.
Legolas stepped in front of him and jabbed an accusatory finger in the dwarf's chest, and really that was a sign in of itself, that he would be so far gone as to touch Gimli's beard willingly.
"What is the meaning of this? Why am I only hearing of this nonsense today?" he demanded, and didn't he have a right to know? The damn invitation was for tonight! Those height-challenged interlopers think they can just dictate his evening? "I might have had plans!" he shrieked.
