Hello! This is a companion fic to my other story Coffee Break. It's not really necessary to read that one first, but it might make this one a bit clearer. Note: this fic is very silly.

Tea Break

Haldir of Lorien breathed a sigh of relief as a sudden gust of wind announced the closure of the book. Sitting up in the mallorn waiting for the Fellowship every day was really quite tiring, and his back just wasn't up to it anymore. He needed his tea break.

"Why," moaned Haldir as he fell into his folding chair, "does she read this segment so often? And never in order? I think Boromir died at least twice today already."

"Apparently she finds us sexy," Rumil answered while Anonymous Elf No. 1 handed him his chamomile tea. "And Boromir's death always makes her cry. Stupid humans. Though we should count ourselves lucky…" he sighed as he kicked his legs up onto the coffee table. "Eomer sent me a memo last night telling me that he was once forced to repeat the battle of Helm's Deep five times in short succession, battle cries and all. His throat was very sore afterwards, not to mention his sword was in need of sharpening…"

Haldir frowned as he sipped his tea. The Elves' fondness for tea was just one of the few things that united them with their ork cousins. "Rumil, please stop talking so much. My ears are still hurting from all that Hobbit babble and there's only so many times you can tell someone they breathe too loudly before it loses the effect."

Rumil, who had been brushing his hair, threw a hairbrush in Haldir's direction. "Shut up. Just because you get to have lines doesn't mean you get to be the boss of everyone."

Haldir tossed the hairbrush back and added a sugar lump to his teacup. Galadriel's warnings about rotting teeth did not convince him. "Look, you and Orophin chose to swim in the Nimrodel instead of going to Common tongue classes, so you have to face the consequences. There's enough unintelligible Elvish in the book without you lot butting in."

Rumil pouted and passed the teapot to Anonymous Elf No. 2. Anonymous Elf No. 2 gave little reaction. "What's up with him?" Rumil asked, now examining his nails.

"Suffering from what we call Minor Character Syndrome," answered Orophin, who had just passed by. "Depression in the absence of even a name." The most flamboyant of Haldir's brothers, Orophin was known throughout fiction for writing letters to The Author demanding a leading role for his character. So far he was met with little response, as most replies were scribbled lines saying something along the lines of 'shut up, you ponce.'

Haldir was about to ask if Minor Character Syndrome was responsible for Orophin's need to promote himself when a sudden gust of wind swept through the forest, accompanied by a loud creaking. The book was opening.

"Oh damn," Rumil said lightly as he realised his hair now looked like a bird's nest. He was about to reach for his hairbrush (kept in his utility belt next to his nail file) when Orophin stopped him.

"The Fellowship will be arriving soon, I can already hear Legolas singing. Is he really prettier than me?"

Haldir groaned at the sound of Legolas singing over the river. Was it just him, or did that prissy Mirkwood elf have a frog in his throat? "All right, he's nearly over. Places, everyone."

His back ached as he drew back his bowstring. Maybe he would have a larger role in the movie.