Chapter 1. Glorfindel's Doom Approaches

'Lord Glorfindel,' said Elrond, rushing down the corridor towards the individual to whom he called. 'I must needs ask your assistance.'

'Yes, milord?' said Glorfindel, beaming. He didn't feel like beaming, but being who he was, he thought it his duty.

'You know of course that the school year starts next month,' Elrond wheezed, trying to catch his breath. He'd been trying to catch up to Glorfindel for several minutes.

'Does it?' mused the blonde Elf. 'I'd forgotten.' He smiled apologetically and said in what he hoped was a hinting manner, 'You see, I haven't been in a school in so many years...'

'Yes; well, it does,' said Elrond, who never was very good at taking hints. 'And here is where we have a problem. You see, our schoolmaster has gone and killed himself in a small skirmish with some Wargs, and now the pupils have no one to teach them.'

Glorfindel began to see the light. Or, rather, the darkness; or rather, the light at the end of the tunnel, that was a balrog heading straight for him.

'Oooooh,' he said, drawing the word out for much longer than needed. 'Ooooh. I seeeeeee...' Yes, he saw all too clearly. But he was brilliant, and could maneuver out of this situation. 'I suppose Erestor will have to take his place,' he said, tapping his front teeth fretfully. 'I'm sure he'll do the job perfectly. He's so… scholarly and all...'

'Oh, Erestor can't do it,' said Elrond, rubbing his forehead nervously. 'I have other work for him to do. I'm going to have to ask you to do it.'

It must be confessed that at this point, Glorfindel panicked a little bit.

'Galdor?' he said quickly. 'Galdor could do it.'

'He throws knives too much,' said Elrond, sighing. 'Too dangerous.'

'Gildor?' said Glorfindel, even quicker, 'He's here around somewhere.'

'Too zoo-y,' objected Elrond, shaking his head.

'Haldir?' Glorfindel said quickest of all. 'He's intelligent!'

'He's in Lothlorien,' said Elrond. 'He's the Marchwarden there, remember?'

'Lindir!' Glorfindel squeaked. He was now scraping the bottom of the barrel. 'Lindir could!'

'Lindir my eye,' said Elrond. 'Lindir your face. Lindir- HA! Lindir could NOT do it.'

'Yes, he could,' Glorfindel insisted desperately. 'He totally could.'

Elrond facepalmed; then he stood next to Glorfindel and gestured vaguely at the empty space before the blonde Elf's eyes. 'Imagine,' he said. 'Picture this. Lindir, teacher of Rivendell elementary. The Entrance of Lindir. Lindir walks in, trailing butterfly nets and spare lyre strings; sits down at the desk, only to jump up again at the feeling of something squishy beneath him. Finds that it is a frog. Runs out of the classroom screaming. Lindir's attempt Number Two. Enter Lindir, trailing butterfly nets and sheet music. Sits down at desk with no mishap. Until he tries to get back up… Turns out there's glue on his chair. Lindir's attempt Number Three! Enter Lindir, trailing butterfly nets and slide trombones. Does not sit down. Tries to plot a straight line on a graph and straight line eventually morphs into a butterfly, due to indiscernible, inexplicable mental cogitations that no one can understand. See what I mean? I could go on.'

Glorfindel's 'Mind's Eye Cinema' was in prime condition, for he could see this all happening as if it really were playing out in front of him. The thought/sight did nothing to ease his horror of being a teacher in Rivendell Elementary.

'Obviously you are my best option,' Elrond concluded, having successfully and completely eradicated every thought of Lindir being a good teacher. 'You'll be paid the same monthly salary as the previous instructor, all fair and square. The term starts in thirty days' time, so prepare yourself. I'll brief you more specifically when the time is closer.' Elrond walked happily off, relieved that Glorfindel was not protesting.

Glorfindel was not protesting because he seemed glued to the spot upon which he stood. His tongue felt glued to the top of his mouth. This doesn't often happen to Glorfindel; he almost always knows what to say. But the thought of teaching Elflings did not- repeat DID NOT appeal to him at all.

AT ALL.

Glorfindel was a little traumatized, to say the least, but being an Elf to live in the moment, he decided to not worry about it until he actually had to deal with the situation. When that time came, he would simply tell Lord Elrond that he was unable to satisfy his expectations, and must need make for Valinor on the fastest boat. Ship. Thing. Eagle? Could he take an eagle?...

Glorfindel shook himself. I get distracted too easily, he chided himself.

Elrond, blissfully unaware of his friend's plot to desert him, sipped tea, watched Erestor sign books, and listened to Lindir tuning his lyre for the hundredth time that morning. 'Ah,' he sighed contentedly, 'With one so brilliant as Glorfindel teaching them, Elladan, Elrohir, and Estel will all have happy childhoods and wonderful educations.'


A/N: Guys, guys, I have this amazing idea! I want to have a Fan Fiction Story Game! Has anyone played the story game? It's really fun. One person starts and writes part of a story. Then he sends it to the next person, and that person writes some more. Then, writer #2 sends JUST HIS part on to another person, and he writes another section, and it goes on like that through a whole bunch of people. It ends up hilarious usually. Does anyone want to do this? I have some volunteers already. PM me or review for more info and to tell me if you want to sign up! :)