Flotsam And Jetsam

Flotsam And Jetsam

Posted: July 6, 2007
Title: Flotsam and Jetsam
Author: Enide
Type: FCS
Characters: Aragorn/Legolas, Merry/Pippin, Frodo/Sam, Boromir/Merry/Pippin, Frodo/Gandalf/Sam, Aragorn/Frodo/Sam, Gimli/Legolas, Aragorn/Boromir, Elrond/Glorfindel (implied)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not Mine.
Beta: Alex! My Swedish – influenced grammar would be terrible without you!
Authors note: A short, silly but sweet story containing strawberry scented bathsuds, snowballs, a lot of naked skin and some totally innocent situations. Right?

Summary: Things go slightly out of hand in the bathing rooms of Imladris.

*****

The huge hall was filled with a wet, clinging mist, sneaking around the carved pillars and slowly making its way up to the high ceiling were it clung to the roof beams. It smelled faintly of strawberries.

Aragorn had of course known about the great room, with its basins of cold and hot water, some of them large enough for twenty persons at once, but he had never much used them, preferring to wash in the solidity of his own rooms. It had been entirely Legolas’ idea for all of the newly formed Fellowship to go there together. It would, he had claimed, be a perfect way for them to bond before the journey.

Right now, Aragorn felt uncertain of just what kind of *bonding* the elf had meant.

While large, soft snowflakes fell in the winter chill outside, in the peaceful gardens, they had made their way to the baths. Large windows opened out to the gardens, giving the bathers a wonderful view and also providing anyone in the gardens a view of the bathers. Elves were not much for coyness. Thankfully, the gardens seemed abandoned today.

In various states of nervousness and with half-hidden glances at one another, the nine males had slid into the hot, steamy water, deep enough to reach over the waist of the four taller ones. The hobbits had been as cheerful as ever, agreeing with the elf that this was indeed a wonderful idea and apparently completely untroubled by being naked with people they only just met a few days ago. Their small, slender bodies, flushing from the heat, dived in and out of the water like some playful otters, curly hair getting damp and eyes sparkling with mirth. Anytime now, one of them would start singing.

Gandalf had taken the matter seriously – as he did everything else – but it was hard to look thoughtful and reverent when you had strawberry foam sliding down your beard. He had, however, surprised everyone by showing a straight shouldered, broad chest covered with grey hair and Aragorn could have sworn the wizard had blushed proudly when Pippin had commented it. He wasn’t certain whether he had imagined the shimmer in the wizard’s eyes as he had ruffled the hobbit’s hair, however, and he was *really* certain he hadn’t heard the other comment, which seemed to have something to do with the wizard’s arse. Although, he had to admit in some dark corner of his mind, it was rather a nice arse.

Boromir had been sulking about the entire idea until he was in the water, but now he was leaning back on the tiles, sighing with pleasure as the water caressed up his muscled chest, lapping the red hair and half covering, half revealing his nipples. The would-be steward’s eyes were closed – or were they? Aragorn thought he could see a small sliver of the eye under the long eyelashes, darting over Merry and Pippin, who were wrestling over the bottle of strawberry scented bath oil. And then, suddenly, he froze in the water when he realised that Boromir was also looking at him. Of course, he though panicking, it was to try and determine the strengths of an opponent, right? That was only natural, right? It could be expected, after all; that was the *only* reason why he had been looking at Boromir, right? He groaned inwardly as he tried to count the number of ‘right’s in the last sentences.

Legolas had been the first to throw off all of his clothes and had cheered almost as wildly as the hobbits when he jumped into the water, golden hair flying and long limbs wreathed in steam. That sight alone had hurried up everyone else and finally got them into the water. Now he was sitting rather sedately with Sam in his lap, rubbing a soft sponge over the gardener’s back. Sam was blushing fiercely, and casting glares of death around him, daring anyone to say anything. In *his* lap, Frodo was sitting, eyes half shut, with the curly hair hanging down over his smooth features. Aragorn cast a jealous glance at Sam, wondering what it would feel like to touch that perfect skin, and then panicked again when he realised what he had thought, and even worse, that he didn’t know whether he meant Frodo’s or Legolas’ skin, or perhaps both.

Desperate for something to distract him from the disturbing feeling that had started to heat him up as much as the water, he looked at Gimli.

Ah, yes, the dwarf took his own approach on bathing just as he did everything else.

“Gimli, really,” Gandalf sighed. “What do you need the helmet for in here?”

“I am not going without it!” The dwarf rumbled somewhere between the beard and the metal. “I would feel naked, and it wouldn’t be decent.”

“But surely that is the point of a bath? To be naked and vulnerable together?” Legolas gave him a dazzling smile. The room became very silent for a few seconds as everyone in the Fellowship started thinking of what exactly this meant – except possibly Pippin, who had won the fight over the bottle of suds and was, for some reason, making a dash towards the dwarf.

“And it’s barely indecent, as this is a *Fellow*ship,” the elf continued, unabashed by the silence. “Which no one can doubt any longer,” he added with just a slight huskiness to his voice.

Damn that elf, he was doing this on purpose! Aragorn shifted uncomfortably, glad that there was suds all over the water by now and even more glad that they had at least managed to talk Gimli out of taking his axe with him into the water. Right now, the presence of sharp metal hidden under the foam-covered water could prove rather disastrous to the parts of him that seemed to have a life of their own.

Pippin crawled over Gandalf’s knees to reach Gimli, causing the wizard’s face to turn a rather interesting shade of red.

“What the...” Boromir started as Merry tried to do the same to him, rushing after the smaller hobbit.

“Don’t do it, Pip!” he yelled.

“Stop him, Boromir!” Pippin answered, and was perhaps a bit surprised by the eagerness with which the warrior closed his arms around his lathery cousin, squeezing him against his chest.

Pippin reached the dwarf, and before Gimli could react, he had thrown off the helmet and poured the scented oil all over the dwarf’s head.

“I hereby crown thee Lord of the Baths!” he triumphed and before the roar erupted from the strawberry smelling dwarf, he threw himself into Boromir’s arms, squealing with delight at his little prank. “Protect me!”

Boromir suddenly had his arms full of slippery hobbits, throwing themselves at him and wrapping their arms around his neck, but he didn’t seemed to mind at all. Elven laughter sent pleasant shivers up Aragorn’s spine when Legolas saw the drenched dwarf.

Gimli, realising he was slightly out of his depths if he tried to tackle the man unarmed, looked around for someone else to take revenge on.

“Oh, you thought that was funny, did you?” he growled and suddenly he plunged under the water, causing everyone to pull in their legs very, very fast and almost jump out of the water.

Only Legolas was, for some strange reason, slightly to slow. Gimli must have caught his ankle and pulled, for with a yell, the elf disappeared under the water. But not before he had time to deposit Frodo and Sam onto Gandalf’s lap where the wizard suddenly found himself in the same situation as Boromir was. Both of them exchanged foolish glances, as if saying of course this is a mere coincident, surely very annoying, not at all what I wanted. But none of them seemed very eager to let go.

Legolas emerged from the water by gripping Aragorn’s legs and pulling himself up, laughing and coughing water. He placed an arm around the ranger’s neck to steady himself, smooth and lithe and strong, and Aragorn found it very difficult to breath since his heart was making an attempt at beating its way out of his chest. Legolas’ body was hot and his skin slick from the suds, and the very touch went straight to Aragorn’s libido and grabbed it, as it were, by the balls.

Legolas slid over his lap, making the ranger have to stifle a groan and grabbed Gimli by the shoulders.

“I’ll get you for that!” He pushed the dwarf under the water, by mere coincidence, straight between his own legs. Gimli didn’t appear to be struggling very hard to get up.

A large, wet bubble hit Aragorn in the face, and when he got it out of his face, he saw Boromir grinning at him and trying to collect more of the elusive foam.

That’s *it*, Aragorn thought, he was not going to be the party spoiler here….

He grabbed some foam, purely by accident letting his hands slide over Legolas’ back as he did so, and threw back. Unfortunately, it slipped out of his hand and landed right on Gandalf, as kind of a substitute to his usual pointy hat.

Aragorn’s mind had time to rapidly wonder if frogs could survive in such hot water, when the wizard’s revenge hit him; a wave of water that drenched him and managed to rinse his hair. Well, it was better than anything amphibian, at least, and as he answered with splashing water

back, he suddenly realising that everyone seemed to have ganged up on him, except for Legolas and Gimli, whom had disappeared.

Just what those two were up to he discovered when white, cold projectiles started landing amongst the fellowship with painful precision, preferably on necks where the snow could melt down on bare backs. The large windows, reaching all the way down to the floor, where slid open and outside the clean snow had covered the gardens like a blanket. The heat of the water still kept out the chill from their bodies and they where yelling various battle cries as the snowballs kept raining down.

“Dwarven snowballs! The dwarves are over you!” **

“Show no mercy, for none will be given you!”

Howling, Boromir heaved himself out of the water, foam and hot water mingling with the snow over his lean body as he rushed towards the elf and dwarf. Aragorn’s mind short-circuited at the overwhelming sight of too many, too nice arses.

“Gondor!” He cried, catching Legolas around the waist and falling over him into the snow.

Aragorn reacted instinctively, but which instinct was in command he was not sure, and charged after the steward. He didn’t get very far, as two small bodies hurled onto his back and bore him down, Frodo laughing and trying to hold on, Sam determined and using his mass to keep the ranger down in the snow. They were like two small hot fires on his back as he fell in the snow and rolled to get free, careful not to crush them but to try to get his arms around them. The snow was cold, but by now he was far, far too warm to even think about it.

Snowballs fell from all directions, breathless laughter and small squeals as the cold snow hit hot bodies echoed over the gardens.

In a room overlooking the garden, Master Elrond the Halfelf watched the scene amused. Naked bodies were twisting and jumping in the cold snow, steaming with heat. It was all very…interesting.

Two strong arms slid up from behind and enclosed his naked chest. A golden head peered over his shoulder and nibbled the skin there almost absent-minded.

“That is most indecent!” Glorfindel said sulkily. “That dwarf’s not even wearing a helmet!”

Elrond smiled at his lover’s jealousy.

“You were looking at his *head*?” he asked mildly.

A pouty lip shot out.

“You were looking at the *dwarf*?” Glorfindel said acidly.

Elrond laughed but his eyes didn’t leave the playing Fellowship. This was turning out better than he had hoped. The smell of strawberries carried all the way up here.

*****

** sort of a pun on Gimli’s war cry from Helms Depth: “Dwarven axes! The dwarves are over you!”

*****

THE END

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