Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR, or any of its characters. Me: Oh, Haldir...you complained so much during the last fic, that I decided it was your turn this time. Haldir: No...no...NO! Me: Oh, yes, sweet cheeks...it's all about you. Haldir: Can't you pick on Legolas again? He doesn't mind...he's a masochist...he likes it. Legolas: Leave me out of this. Me: Well...maybe Legoboy will make an appearance later. Legolas: Great, just great. Are you quite satisfied, Haldir? Look what you did! I was safe until you opened your big fat trap! Haldir: Misery loves company, Lego.

Haldir and the Fantabulous Whatzit

Summery: The March Warden of Lothlorien, Haldir, discovers a rather unusual item in the Golden Wood. This is the story of what happens to a workaholic Elf when faced with the opportunity of a lifetime. Humor, rated "PG13" for some crude language, and just in case it becomes necessary for me to get a little naughty in later chapters. NON-CANON...please don't send the canon-police after me. I cry easily.

Chapter 1

Haldir's Bad Day

Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away...oh wait...that's already been done. Let me start again.

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago...hold it. That's been done too - to death. I'll try again.

The story grew bigger in the telling...WHOA! Hold your horses...that one's already taken, too.

Damn it. Okay, one more time, with feeling...

Haldir, March Warden of Lothlorien, was having a bad day. He sat on a log beneath the lovely silver trunks and golden leaves of the mallorn trees, running his hand over his face.

It was the first weekend of the month, and that meant Elf Scout Day. Celeborn and Galadrial, King and Queen of Lothlorien had decreed that every young elfling in the Golden Wood spend the day being instructed by the warriors of Lorien in the art of defense. As March Warden, Haldir was forced to play denmother to every wide-eyed, hero-worshiping snotrag in the Wood. He detested every minute of it.

"Haldir, tell us about meeting the Fellowship!"

"Haldir, tell us about the time you led the Elf archers into Helm's Deep!"

"Haldir, tell us about Legolas!"

This last one was almost always from the female Scouts. They always wanted to hear about Legolas. Sitting at his feet, they'd look up at Haldir with dreamy eyes, as he would be forced to repeat, ad nauseam, Legolas' adventures with the Fellowship. And they giggled. There was nothing Haldir hated worse than giggling. It grated on his nerves.

His thoughts were interrupted as a young elfling approached him.

"March Warden, sir, we're ready for our archery lesson," the elfling said, obviously so excited he could barely contain himself.

Haldir rolled his eyes, sighed, and stood up, towering over the young elf. Looking down at him, Haldir growled, "Tell them I'm coming. Be ready with your bows at the target range."

The elfling gleefully ran off, eager to get started. Haldir followed slowly, shaking his head, knowing from experience just how the lesson would go. He would instruct the elflings on the proper way to hold the bow. He would instruct the elflings on the proper way to notch the arrow. He would instruct the elflings on the proper way to aim. He would instruct the elflings on the proper way to fire. They would fire their arrows, and not one would come anywhere near the targets. Then they would all clamor to hear about Legolas' skill with the bow. Haldir thought he might actually throw up if he had to repeat one more time the story of Legolas scaling the Oliphaunt using his own arrows as a ladder.

Haldir made his way through the Wood to the clearing where the elflings waited. A long row of targets had been set up at the far end of the clearing, and a long row of elflings stood across from it, bows in hand, waiting eagerly to begin. Haldir's brothers, Rumil and Orophin, stood well back from the line of elflings, smirking. They knew how much Haldir hated this, and were only too glad to allow him the full honor of instructing the elflings.

"Alright, Elflings...' Haldir began in his most authoritative voice, pacing behind the line of anxious youths, "let us begin your first lesson." He went through all of the warnings and cautions of aiming a weapon at anything but the target; the importance of paying attention and of concentrating, etc...etc...etc... He heard a few snorts of laughter coming from his brothers. They were always quite amused by Haldir's discomfort in teaching the newbies.

"Ready...aim...fire!" Haldir shouted as he turned to give his brothers a sour look. Suddenly, he froze, feeling an intense pain in his right buttock.

Reaching his hand around to his butt, he discovered an arrow protruding from his ass.

He glanced at the elfling nearest him, who had paled and looked as though he might spew at any moment.

Being careful to keep his rear from the view of both the elflings and his brothers - Eru knew, he'd never hear the end of it if his brothers discovered he'd just been shot by one of the elflings - he ordered through gritted teeth, "Class is dismissed!" He watched the elflings walk off, shoulders slumped, obviously very disappointed in the brevity of the lesson. His brothers looked at him curiously, but decided they really didn't want to address him right now, considering the murderous look on his face. He waited until he was quite alone in the clearing, before yanking the arrow from his butt.

Haldir flung the arrow into the dirt of the clearing, rubbing his sore bum. "I do not believe that I can take much more of this," he thought, grimacing as his fingers came away bloody. "I really need to think about finding new employment. I've served as March Warden for centuries, fought in many battles - I'm a freaking hero, for Eru's sake! And what do I get? An arrow in the ass from some overanxious half wit of an elfling!" He limped off toward home to tend to his wound.

Finding his way through the stands of mallorn trees, Haldir had nearly reached the area settled by the Elves of Lorien when his foot hit something half buried in the forest floor, causing him to nearly trip.

He looked down curiously, nudging the object with his foot. Reaching down, and wincing at the pain in his butt the bending motion brought, he pried the object out of the dirt.

"What in the name of Arda is this?" he asked himself, turning the object over in his hands.