Stupid Stories for Irreverent Elves by darthfingon

Not Goat Funny

Glorfindel, Oropher, FA 44

Fingolfin had been born with the advantage of beauty; he was largely regarded as the fairest of the lords of Eithel Sirion. "But if you look at him long enough," said Oropher, "really have a good long stare, he's sort of funny-looking."

"Everything's funny-looking if you stare at it long enough," Glorfindel replied.

Oropher paused where he stood to have a critical look at a nearby goat. After a moment, he grinned. "You're right. See that goat's eyes? And the way its legs bend opposite ways? And one horn's longer than the other."

"Very amusing," said Glorfindel. "Come on." He tugged on Oropher's arm, and the two continued walking toward the gate.

"Everyone says the King's so great. But I don't know. He has funny eyes... Not like goat funny, but still funny, you know? Far apart and two different colours. I mean, not that his eyes are different colours. But each eye is two colours, a sort of light grey and charcoal grey. I don't like when he stares at me with his weird eyes."

Glorfindel shrugged. "His eyes don't bother me much. They’re just eyes. Everyone has them."

"Fingon has normal eyes, lucky for you. No larky stare from him. But he's a bit nip, so I don't know..." They rounded the gate to the other side of the wall, and Oropher stopped again. "Who would you rather, overall?"

"How do you mean?"

"I mean, if you had to choose. Between the two of them. For any reason, who would you rather?"

"You mean if I were to choose between my position and yours," said Glorfindel, to which Oropher nodded.

It was a question that Glorfindel had considered many times before. Would he rather have his lot, with Fingon, or Oropher's? He had argued it back and forth in his mind when he particularly hated Fingon, or when he tried to convince himself that being with Fingon was not as terrible as it could be, or when he was simply bored with ample time for his thoughts to wander into the realm of 'what if'. In the end, no matter what excuses he made for either side, he never chose Fingolfin.

"I think it would be a more advantageous choice to be with the King, wouldn't it?" he said slowly. "For most people."

"But?"

"But..." Glorfindel sighed. He took a long breath before speaking again, this time much more quickly than before. "Oropher, I think he is one of the most revolting people I know. Not in obvious ways," he added when Oropher frowned, "but in little ways that I only notice when he is around too much. Just like you think he's funny-looking after staring at him too long. Consider this."

He glanced to the side to make certain nobody was near enough to overhear, and ducked behind a tree. "Have you noticed," he continued quietly, "that he smells of blood and dead animals? I know almost all Golodhrim do, because they eat all that meat and the smell comes out through their skin, but I think it bothers me more on him because he looks like the sort of person who should smell better."

"I never noticed," said Oropher.

"You must be used to it. You smell of animals a bit, too."

Scowling, Oropher lifted his arm to his nose to check. "I can't tell. But I think you smell like celery."

"Anyhow," Glorfindel said, "Fingon only eats bread and vegetables. So he has no dead animal kind of smell. But he also has a bath every day. If he smells of anything, it's soap and bath oil. I know the King can't be having a bath every day, because most of the time when I see him, he's wearing unwashed clothes and his hair is dirty. He's the king of the whole north. I think he should at least have clean hair, instead of leaving it long and stringy. His hair is thin, and he needs to wash it more often. You should tell him that."

Oropher shook his head. "I'm not telling him anything like that, he'd hit me!"

"And you should tell him to cut his fingernails. Those long claws are frightening. And worse when he uses them to pick things out of his teeth or scratch his oily hair. Those are appalling habits."

"So you like Fingon better, I guess."

"Yes," said Glorfindel. "I still wish he would fall off a turret and die, but at least he's clean and has good manners. And nice hair. His breath doesn't smell of old wine, he knows how to clean his teeth properly, and he has his clothes washed after he wears them."

"Huh."

Oropher started down the path again, and Glorfindel followed, toward the river.

"Who would you say, then?" Glorfindel asked. "If you were to choose?"

"I'd say neither," Oropher said with a silly grin.

Glorfindel punched him in the arm.