by Erestor

Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to The Lord of the Rings. This story was written for entertainment purposes only.

"I really appreciate your help in this project, Legolas," said King Elessar. "Really."

King Elessar, known to his friends and relations by a whole host of other names, the most famous of these names being Aragorn, was supposed to be relaxing at the end of a hard day's work, but his mind was still fixed on his new project, Operation Make Orcs Happy.

"You're very welcome," murmured Legolas, trying to pry his wide eyes away from the large TV screen across the room. He failed. Aragorn's favorite show, Funniest Undoctored Dental Videos, was still playing. It was very difficult to ignore.

"Have a seat," said Aragorn, sweeping a hand in the direction of several comfortable chairs. Legolas made his graceful way to one, and sat down. Aragorn had mercy on the Elf, and switched off the TV.

The room seemed very quiet suddenly, now that no one was screaming in the background.

"So," said Aragorn at last, "are you ready for the big day?"

"Yes," said Legolas, with barely a hesitation. "I have never given an orc counseling before, but I am sure it will be a momentous occasion."

"Yes, it will most certainly be momentous," said Aragorn. While he had not been able to dispel all his doubts about Operation Make Orcs Happy, on the whole, he was rather pleased with it.

The War was over, but some orcs still remained, and they couldn't get good jobs, due to the extreme discrimination of the Gondorians. No one wanted to hire an orc, because orcs tended to eat people. With the unhappy orcs constantly protesting against their unfair treatment, no one felt safe.

Aragorn had come up with a plan. The maladjusted orcs would be given therapy. With counseling, they would be able to get good jobs, and lead happy and productive lives.

Legolas Thranduilion, with his Ph.D. in psychiatric work, and six hundred years of counseling experience, had been the only counselor to volunteer for the job. He had done so reluctantly, only after Aragorn had nagged and blackmailed him for some time.

For his part, Legolas was steeling himself for the experience. He did not like orcs. He knew that orcs did not like him. He doubted that counseling would help the orcs. Still, he had to do his best, at least to help his friend.

When Legolas had been little, his father had asked him, "What do you want to do when you grow up?"

Legolas had looked very serious. "Shoot stuff," he had said.

"Hmm," Thranduil had replied. "I think we need to do some career planning."

Legolas had two older brothers. The eldest was going to be king after Thranduil. The middle brother was going to lead Mirkwood's army.

"Legolas," Thranduil had announced, "you are going to be a counselor."

After Legolas had asked what a counselor was, Thranduil had replied, "It's someone who gives others guidance on personal and psychological matters."

Legolas had never really understood why his father wanted him to be a counselor, but, being a dutiful son, he had packed his bags and gone to a school in Rivendell, where he had learned all about counseling people. Aragorn had been his special project.

Years had passed. Legolas was now Middle-earth's most famous counselor. He shot stuff in his spare time.

"This is the life," said Aragorn, leaning so far back in his recliner that his head nearly banged against the floor. He sipped his drink through a glow-in-the-dark orange straw.

Legolas snapped out of his flashback.

"I haven't been clobbered by anyone for three whole years, two months, and twenty-three days," announced Aragorn proudly.

That was something of a record. Legolas was impressed. The Elf was only on his seventh month and tenth day without being clobbered, because some Elf-hating citizens of Gondor had recently attacked him as he came home from work. The Gondorians basically hated everyone.

"How's your work going?" asked Aragorn.

"Very well, thank you," said Legolas. "Everyone needs therapy, you know. Once they pay for one session, they're hooked. They love to hear about how they're victims of society."

"Are they?"

"Of course," said Legolas.

"You should tell the orcs that."

"I will."

"Dr. Legolas?"

Legolas glanced up at his assistant, papers in hand. "What is it?" he asked. "Is Mr. Gore here?"

"It's Gorbang, sir," said the assistant helpfully.

"Oh, yes. Is Mr. Gorbang here?"

"Not yet," said the assistant. Legolas gave her an elegant and an annoyed look over the top of his glasses. "I was just wondering," said the assistant, "if you are the right person to give an orc therapy."

Legolas raised his eyebrows at her. "I have been counseling people for six hundred years," he said. "I even cured King Elessar of most of his problems."

"Yes, sir, of course. We're all very admiring of what you did for His Majesty," said the assistant. "But you've never counseled an orc."

"New experiences are good," said Legolas absently, turning back to his paperwork.

The assistant slunk away, feeling chastened. A few minutes later, she slunk back. "Dr. Legolas," she said, "Mr. Gorbang is here."

"Oh, good," said Legolas. "Show him in, please."

The orc swaggered into the room. He did not look like a downtrodden victim of Gondorian society. He looked mean. Evil, in fact. And he spat on Legolas's nice clean floor. This did not endear him to Legolas.

Legolas looked at the expensive chair he had provided for his clients. He could not help but wince when the orc slumped down into it.

"So," he said brightly, "how are you this morning, Mr. Gorbiff?"

"Gorbang," growled the orc.

"Sorry. Gorbang. Of course," said Legolas with a sinking feeling that the counseling session was going badly already. "How are you?"

The orc growled some more.

Legolas found his happy place. Then he asked, "Would you like to tell me about your childhood, Mr. Gorbang?"

"No," growled Mr. Gorbang.

A sudden, life-threatening curiosity overcame Legolas. "Do orcs even have childhoods?" he asked.

The orc said something in Dark Speech that made Legolas's head hurt.

"All right," said Legolas, taking a deep breath. "How about telling me about your happiest memory?"

This was not a good question to ask. The orc described his happiest memory in graphic detail. Legolas felt ill. He ate a peppermint. He wrote, This individual is deeply disturbed on his notepad and underlined the 'deeply' part three times.

"What is your saddest memory?" asked Legolas, hoping that it did not involve disembowelment.

The orc gave Legolas a suspicious look. "Don't have one," he growled.

"What makes you angry?" asked Legolas warily.

"Elves," snarled Mr. Gorbang.

Legolas smiled sweetly at the orc over his clipboard. He was remembering the conversation he had had with Aragorn when Aragorn had first announced his therapy program for jobless orcs.

"Are you insane?" Legolas had demanded.

Legolas proceeded to remember the conversation he had had with Aragorn when Aragorn had mentioned that perhaps Legolas should be the one to give the orcs therapy. He had been so numb with shock that he had only managed to say, very calmly, "Aragorn, I'm sure you are aware that orcs and I do not have a history of peaceful coexistence."

Which was an understatement, really.

The orc looked at Legolas hungrily. Legolas quickly asked the next question. "What are your previous job experiences?"

"I served the Great Eye," growled Gorbang.

"Do you have any careers in mind that you might enjoy?" asked Legolas.

"I'd like to be a butcher," growled the orc.

"Really?" Legolas raised his eyebrows. The job seemed very appropriate.

"Or a dentist," growled Gorbang.

Legolas shuddered. He wrote, This individual is very deeply disturbed and underlined 'very' three times. "You realize, Mr. Gory–"


"You realize, Mr. Gorbang, that Gondorians don't like dentists very much," said Legolas. "Becoming a dentist would not cause you to be welcomed with open arms by the general public."

The orc said nothing, just grinned. Legolas grew more worried by the moment. He was glad that, being an Elf, he had never had dental problems.

"Also, you will have to study in a university for perhaps ten years," said Legolas. "Do you have any other ideas?"

"Building demolition," growled the orc. "I like blowing things up."

He likes blowing things up, wrote Legolas.

"What are you writing?" growled Gorbang suspiciously.

"Just some notes," said Legolas, "so that I will be able to help you better."

No hope for this one, he wrote.

The assistant stuck in her head into the room. "Dr. Legolas," she said, "King Elessar is on the telephone. He wants to speak to you."

"Can't he wait?" asked Legolas. "King Elessar is using government money to pay for these counseling sessions, and I'm sure he wants me to pack in as much counseling as I possibly can."

"He says it's urgent," said the assistant unhappily.

Legolas eyed Gorbang cautiously, but took the proffered telephone.

"Hello, Legolas!" said Aragorn. "I just made a live television appearance, telling everyone that Operation Make Orcs Happy is in the process of becoming a great success! Did you see it?"

"No," said Legolas. "I'm in the middle of a counseling session with Mr. Gorbash."

"Gorbang," growled the orc.

"Is it progressing well?" asked Aragorn.

"He would like to be a butcher," said Legolas.

"I'm sure he's had plenty of job experience in that area," said Aragorn. "So, is it a great success?"

"I'm sorry," said Legolas, "I really can't talk to you at this moment." He handed the telephone back to the assistant. "Don't answer any more calls," he hissed. "Or use caller ID or something."

The assistant scurried away.

"So, Mr. Gorchops," said Legolas brightly.

"Gorbang," snarled the orc. "How'd you like it if I kept on calling you 'Legoface'?"

Unbeknownst to Gorbang, Legolas hated being called Legoface, and at this unnecessary comment from the orc, he lost his temper. First he pulled off his glasses and folded them neatly. Then he said, "I don't think you would make a very good butcher. You couldn't butcher a paper bag."

Gorbang, who had been keeping his own temper with admirable self-control, snarled, "Well, you are a terrible psychiatrist. You couldn't psychoanalyze a mushroom, let alone an orc!"

Legolas was wearing pretty blue clothing that made him look sweet and endearing. His expression at that moment made him look quite the opposite. "I wish you and I had met in our natural environment," he said, "because I would have killed you very quickly and cheerfully in the Wild."

"Ha!" said Gorbang. "I would have tortured you until you begged for mercy!"

"Never!" said Legolas. "You would have died long before you came near me!"

"That's because you Elves fight with wimpy, unfair things like longbows!" said Gorbang.

"You'll regret saying that, Gorfluff!"

"Gorbang!" roared the orc, jumping from his chair and charging forward.

Legolas threw the clipboard at Gorbang's head, and Gorbang ducked.

"You have miserable aim!" taunted Gorbang. "Now I will literally eat you for breakfast!"

"Not today, and not ever!" cried Legolas defiantly. He yanked open his desk drawer, and pulled out his longbow. Quick as an angry Elf, he nocked an arrow to the bow and shot it through the orc, who died.

Legolas sat in his chair for a few moments, pondering this turn of events.

"That was rather therapeutic," he said. "Send in the next one."