It's Elementary, My Dear Thranduil
My craziness and I decided to write a murder mystery that takes place in Middle Earth with our two favorite elven leaders: Thranduil and Elrond. Now, this has absolutely nothing to do with Sherlock, it just seemed like a good title. There's going to be a lot of smut and mystery and maybe some humor if I can manage it.
This is completely AU and way before the Hobbit or LoTR but after both of their spouses left, but I'll try to keep everyone in character. However, this is an attempted comedy, so it may be a bit hard. Eh, I'll try.
So, without further ado, enjoy!
Chapter 1: An Unexpected Trip to Imladris, Concerning a Misplaced Head
It was quite by mistake that Thranduil, King of Mirkwood, agreed to send fifteen hundred of his best jewels to Erobor. The dwarf had been laboring on and on, dragging the speech out that he had prepared to give Thranduil, who had stopped listening about five minutes in.
The whole court had gone silent as Thranduil had started out of his thoughts and looked down at the expectant dwarf. Thranduil could hardly see the dwarf's face beyond all of that accursed hair. I wonder if it itches, Thranduil mused. "Fine," he said out loud.
There were intakes of breath from everyone, and Thranduil looked around. His advisors were staring at him as if he had grown another head. He raised an eyebrow at them, but inwardly, he was panicking. What in Eru Iluvitar had he just promised these greedy, short and all too annoying dwarves? "Go fetch the…"
"Gems, milord?" Algaron asked meekly.
"Aye, the gems." Oh, Eru, he'd promised them gems. Thranduil had the urge to bury his face in his hands, but resisted the urge.
The dwarf bowed deeply. "You are indeed generous, King Thranduil. Thank you."
"No need to thank me," Thranduil said, standing up and casting his outer cloak off with a flurry of brilliant red silk. "If you will excuse me, I will go oversee the transport of the gems from our stores." He quickly walked down his throne, cursing the length of his robes—yet again—as he nearly fell. The dwarves were still kneeling and had their heads bowed—thank the Valar, but he grimaced all the same and quickly fled to the vault.
"How many gems did I promise him?" he asked one of his advisors in a low undertone as they followed him. The dark-haired elf looked pale.
"Fifteen hundred of the gems of pure starlight."
Thranduil stopped dead and he felt two of his advisors smoothly step out of the way in order to refrain from running straight into their king's back. "Fifteen hundred?" he asked. Thranduil put a hand to his head and sighed. He should have listened, but the dwarf was just so boring. "Very well, put them in a chest and have them delivered to the dwarf."
His advisors nodded as one and continued onto the vault. Thranduil sighed and turned the other way to go to his quarters. It was rude to leave the dwarf king, but he truly needed a break.
Can this day get any better?
00800
As it turns out, it could.
Thranduil was not expecting the body to fall upon him when he opened his door. In fact, he thought, wiping the blood off of his shoulder after starting and making a racket in which he knocked several vases off of their shelf, no one should have to expect to have a body drop on them.
The guards came running as Thranduil toed the body over with one foot, careful to keep his silken slipper from soaking up any of the blood. It was headless and dressed in fine robes. Not one of his guards, then. He frowned and turned to the two guards who had rushed in, swords drawn.
The dark-haired elf to his right made a noise of surprise. "My Lord Thranduil, are you alright?" The other crouched beside the body and poked at it.
"Lovely," Thranduil replied saucily. "Where's Algaron?" He began unclasping his outer robe.
"Here, My Lord." His personal assistant and advisor skittered to a halt before him, bowing his head. "What do you need?"
"Take this to the laundry, see if they can get the blood out. I am rather fond of this. Oh, and see if you can find a head." He motioned to the body. "I assume that this elf was not like this when he entered my room."
"Yes, My Lord," Algaron said, bowing once more, and running quickly down the hall. The elf was shorter than Thranduil, but then many elves were shorter than the elf king. He had hair that was as light as Thranduil's and striking green eyes. It had been those sharp eyes and quick tongue that had first brought Algaron to Thranduil's attention. He had been a noble servant once for one of Thranduil's distant relatives. Thranduil had told Alagron that he could make him a better deal, and the elf had stayed with him as his personal assistant and advisor for several hundred years since.
"Search for the head," Thranduil said as he strode further into his chambers. He made for his wardrobe and opened it. Most would gaze upon his lavish wardrobe and either scoff at the extensiveness or stare in awe. Yards and yards of indulgent fabric graced the King's wardrobe, but Thranduil was more than used to the sight and simply stared at it until he fancied one above the others. He pulled out a black tunic—maybe the blood won't stain this as badly—and threw it on.
As he turned, he saw it. He sighed again and went to the door.
"Never mind," he called into the other room. "I have found the head." It was positioned at the head of his bed, dripping blood onto his pillows and blankets. The guards rushed into the room and looked at the head with distaste.
Thranduil carefully walked over to his bed, careful to avoid the ribbons of blood that had collected on the floor. The elf had dark hair and was wearing a circlet that was far too plain for his court. "An elf of Imladris." That would explain the fine robes, as well. Elrond did not require his guards to be in uniform all the time, as Thranduil did.
Elrond. The Lord of Imladris was a fair and just leader, or so everyone said. They spoke of his kindness to all elves. He even had a tolerance for dwarves, which was a true mark of patience and goodwill, Thranduil thought acidly. He personally thought that Elrond was soft and foolish, but he did not speak ill of the elf. It would make him seem petty, and many elves already saw him as that. "What will you have us do, My Lord?" one of guards asked.
Thranduil sighed. He was truly too tired for this, but Elrond would be missing his lovely plaything. "Put the head in a sack," he instructed. He smiled wickedly. "And ready my horse. I am sure that Elrond is missing his elfling."
00800
Elrond let out a sigh and rubbed his temples. It had been a long day, full of political debating and compromising, and he was ready for a long night of sleep.
Just his luck that the King of Mirkwood chose that moment to impose on him. "My Lord," Lindir called, running up the terraced steps. "A great company of elves is approaching Imladris's gate." Elrond looked up from his hand and blinked several times.
"What? Now?"
Lindir looked at a loss for words. "He's demanding to see you immediately; he says he has something that you need to see."
"He? Who is he?"
"King Thranduil, My Lord."
Elrond sighed internally and slumped. It had been decades since had had to deal with the elf king of the Mirkwood forest, and he would gladly wait a few more ages before he had to deal with him again. "Tell him I'll be down in a moment."
Lindir nodded and bowed quickly, before running back down the steps. Elrond sighed once more and stood up, following his advisor down the stairs at a much slower pace. He needed to firm his resolve and tap into his limited stream of patience before he dealt with Thranduil.
Please, don't make me bite his head off, he prayed to whomever would listen.
Elrond was, as he always found himself to be, stricken with how pretty Thranduil was. It wasn't handsome, it wasn't even fair of face. It was pretty. In his sweeping black robes with his hawthorn crown perched on his head and those damned eyebrows and blond hair, he looked like a fallen god, one of beauty or grace.
That was, of course, before he opened his mouth. "Lord Elrond," he said, dismounting his caribou-moose (AN: what the hell is the thing that Thranduil rides?) in one smooth movement. "Well met. You look as if you could use some rest."
Elrond raised an eyebrow. Yes, same Thranduil. "And you look as if you have been dragged through the forest," he quipped, knowing that it would get to Thranduil.
"Because I have, old man," the king shot back lazily. Thranduil was carrying something in a sack. Something that had stained the fabric dark and that looked suspiciously like blood.
"As much as I enjoy your company," Elrond said, keeping his voice painstakingly polite, "you must have a reason to come to Imladris outside of insulting me."
"Aye." Thranduil shoved the sack at Elrond. "I believe this belongs to you."
"What is it?" Elrond asked, looking up at the king, who gave him a pointed look. Elrond sighed inwardly and opened the sack.
"Oh," he said, for that was the only word that came to mind. The tangle of hair matted with blood was completely unexpected, and he lost his train of thought for several heartbeats. When he caught it again, he looked up at Thranduil. "As much as I appreciate this unexpected gift, might I ask why you are giving it to me?"
"It's one of your advisors," Thranduil snapped.
Elrond frowned and pulled the head from the bag and blinked a few times. "Indeed," he said. "He was supposed to be back this evening from going to visit his mother. I presume you had a reason to kill him," Elrond said mildly, looking up at the king.
"I didn't kill him," Thranduil scoffed. "You wound me with your lack of belief in my intelligence." He gave Elrond a saccharine sweet smile and turned to mount once more.
"Wait," Elrond said. He nearly died inside as he said the next words, but the king would be expecting it, and Elrond knew that he could not turn him away without a bed for the night. He had a reputation to upkeep, after all. "We appreciate the…safe return of my advisor's head. Please join me in feast and rest here for the night."
Thranduil looked down at him, blue eyes glittering like blades. "Why, you have not changed a bit, Elrond." He dismounted once more and nodded to his advisor, Algaron. The elf bowed and took his steed away to the stables. The other elves dismounted and began making their way there as well. Elrond watched them go with yet another inwardly sigh. The guest rooms have not been touched for months. There's probably leaves on the floor and spiders in the beds. Before Thranduil came into earshot, Elrond turned to Lindir, who had appeared by his side a few moments before. "Get someone to go prepare the guest rooms. I'll hold them out here as long as possible, but hurry."
Lindir nodded and ran off. Thranduil looked after him and opened his mouth to say something, but Elrond cut him off.
"The dinner will be served shortly. Can I tempt you with a glass of our finest wine?"
"Aye," Thranduil said. "I could much use a glass of wine," he muttered as he passed Elrond. He walked up a few steps and then looked back—down—upon Elrond, who felt immensely irked to find the king looking down upon his in his own domain. Not that much could be done about that; Thranduil was taller than him. He walked up the few steps that separated him from the king and paused, turning to look over at him. Thranduil was much closer than he planned, and he looked straight up into those sharp eyes and. Just. Stopped.
It was as if he had forgotten how to breathe. He stood there like an idiot in complete silence for several moments before dragging himself away from Thranduil's captivating gaze. "Follow me," he said, and felt very achieved when his voice didn't quaver.
He would not fall for the King of Mirkwood, Elrond told himself firmly. He had lost Celebrian to the Undying Lands only decades ago, and his heart still ached for her in the wee hours of the morning.
And it didn't even have to be that. The elf king was so infuriating. It drove Elrond to near madness to have to keep a civil tongue with Thranduil. He would not feel anything for him. He refused to. It had been the long day that had provoked such a reaction, nothing more.
It was a nice, pretty lie that Elrond was all too happy to believe in.
00800
Thranduil was having a jolly time making Elrond disgruntled as they sat at the terraced dining pavilion. It was quite easy and quite amusing to see the elf lord attempt to keep his cool as Thranduil insulted him. It was even more fun when he made jabs back at Thranduil, even if they were presented with a stoic face. Thranduil had the distinct impression that Elrond was snarling at him under that blank mask of civility.
The wine probably didn't help Thranduil's sour mood, and Elrond had drank more than a few glasses after the first ten minutes.
"What was one of your advisors doing in Mirkwood?" Thranduil asked after a lull of silence.
Elrond looked over at him, obviously not expecting the change in subject. Thranduil smiled sweetly and Elrond scowled. "I know not."
"Spies are very dangerous creatures," Thranduil mused. Elrond started.
"Surely you do not presume…"
"Of course not, my dear Elrond." Thranduil said silkily. "I was merely noting that spies are very dangerous creatures and they should be dealt with immediately."
He really is going to kill me, Elrond moaned internally. That or I'll kill him. "Are you certain you did not kill him?" he asked instead.
"Yes, I am certain. I know when I sheathe my sword and when I slice heads off with it," Thranduil noted. "Or do you think me incapable of handling a sword?"
Yes, I do, Elrond wanted to say. He refrained. "I have seen your skills with a blade, King Thranduil."
By the Valar, this elf was tougher than most, Thranduil had to admit. Most elves who had the position to be his equal would have thrown something at him by now. Ever patient Elrond, Thranduil thought. I will get him to snap at me. Or throw something at me. It was a strange mood indeed that Thranduil was in, but he could not shake it.
Just as Thranduil was devising how exactly he was going to get the dark-haired elf lord to show his true emotions, Elrond's assistant stopped beside him. "The rooms are ready, milord," he murmured, just loud enough for Thranduil to hear. Thranduil hid a smile. That was why the elf was tolerating Thranduil's presence. So that the guest rooms would be inhabitable.
He stood and smoothed his hands languidly down the front of his robe. "I believe I shall retire to my room you so kindly prepared, Lindir."
Elrond looked between Lindir and Thranduil for a few moments. He couldn't keep Thranduil any longer if the rooms were ready, and he would be more than happy to let the elf king leave. Yet…
"Lindir, please show Thranduil to his room and then come to me. I have matters to discuss with you."
Thranduil smiled at Elrond's deliberate exclusion of his title. "There is no need, Elrond. I am sure that I can find my way. My memory has not failed me. Unless your guest rooms have begun moving around, I will manage."
Elrond raised an eyebrow. "I must insist. Would you rather I escort you myself?"
Thranduil was tempted, oh so tempted, to irritate Elrond further by taking him up on his offer, but he shook his head. "Thank you for the escort, Lindir. And le hannon, Lord Elrond." He gave the Lord a small bow of the head and followed Lindir down the path. He had some snooping to do.
Elrond sank into the seat at his study and let out the sigh that had been begging for escape all night. By the Valar, why did Thranduil have to be so irritating? He took a sheet of parchment out and dipped his quill in the ink that was waiting on his desk and began writing a letter to the dead elf's mother. He needed answers as to where the elf had been, and why he had been in Mirkwood.
This day had been far too long for Elrond's liking, and too full of unneeded excitement. A raven flew into the room at Elrond's call. He tied the letter to the foot of the bird and sent it with a few directions muttered in Sindarin before sending it on its way. The bird squawked and flew out of the window with a huff, as if it was a trouble to take the letter. Elrond nearly rolled his eyes; was everything to act like Thranduil tonight, overdramatic and against Elrond?
Speaking of which, where in the name of Eru was Lindir? He should have come back by now. Elrond stood and paced his study a few times before deciding that it would be best to find his advisor. He was probably being tortured by Thranduil, made to help him choose what he should sleep in and turn down the bed just the way Thranduil liked it. Just to keep him from coming to Elrond's study, as he was supposed to after escorting Thranduil to his room.
Elrond wouldn't put it past the conniving, absolutely infuriating elf.
With a grim nod to himself, Elrond went in search of Lindir.
00800
Thranduil was, indeed making Lindir turn his bed down. "No, not like that," he said. "A little more. Fluff it for Valar's sake, or else it looks like a limp leaf." Lindir quickly obeyed and Thranduil smiled. Elrond had his little pet trained very well. He was covering his exasperation almost as well as Elrond himself. "Now, that pillow is crooked."
Thranduil turned around and surveyed the room. The evidence of the quick cleanup was very noticeable, but it was still nice. For a room of Imladris. It was rather plain, too plain for Thranduil's liking.
"Tell me, Lindir," Thranduil said. The elf looked up, as if surprised that Thranduil had remembered his name. "Does Elrond not have any decorations? Jewels?"
Lindir frowned. "No, My Lord. We have a modest amount of jewels, but Elrond does not display them."
"A pity your lord is so stingy. Jewels are meant to be displayed. Have you ever seen the halls of my kingdom?" Lindir shook his head and looked back down, working to rearrange the pillows.
Perhaps I could take what is Elrond's. Maybe that would bother him... Thranduil began stalking towards Lindir, much as a predator hunts its prey. Lindir looked up once again, as if sensing the shift of the tension in the air as Thranduil focused all of his attention on him. He stiffened, and looked towards the door. "The jewels of my palace are everywhere," he said, blocking Lindir's only way of escape. The dark-haired elf swallowed and seemed to shrink back as Thranduil came even closer.
"Everywhere?" Lindir asked. His voice was surprisingly calm for the situation, and Thranduil scowled. He wanted to hear the elfling's voice tremble like a leaf in the wind as he stalked towards him.
"Aye. Everywhere. In every imaginable place." Lindir had turned with him, keeping Thranduil in sight as he stalked around him. Thranduil struck quickly, pushing the elf against the bed. Lindir flinched and turned his face away, but not before Thranduil saw the spark of fear in his eyes.
"My Lord," he began. "I must return to Lord Elrond. Please let me go to him." His voice was still incredibly steady.
Thranduil put a finger underneath Lindir's chin and drew his head towards him. The elf's eyes stayed focused on the far side of the room. "You would make a nice addition to my pretty jewels." Lindir did not react in any way. "Look at me," Thranduil snapped. Lindir's eyes flickered and then met Thranduil's. The fear that he was trying to mask exhilarated Thranduil. It was not in Lindir's power to deny him anything that he could possibly want, and he could take it all.
He pushed the elf to the bed and leaned over him. "My Lord," Lindir said again, this time a bit more frantically. Thranduil smirked and climbed onto the bed, straddling the elf's legs.
"Shush," he said, trailing one finger down Lindir's face. "Be a good pet." If only this were Elrond that he was on top of, straddling. He would come willingly to Thranduil's bed, beg for Thranduil's touch, those perfect lips parted in pure ecstasy—Thranduil stopped as his fingers slipped under the elf's tunic, unclasping the first few clasps, displaying moonlight pale skin. Had he seriously just considered fantasizing about Elrond underneath him?
Thranduil pulled back with disgust. The elf was infuriating and dull as politics, no fun at all. Why would he want him? He was just about tell Lindir to leave when a dagger lodged itself in the bedpost next to Thranduil.
The elf king leapt off of the bed and drew his sword in one fluid motion, slicing at the empty air.
The drapes fluttered in the breeze, and there was no indication that anyone had been in the room with them at all. Lindir had sat up and drawn a short hunting dagger the moment he had become aware of the threat. Thranduil turned and looked at him, a look of distaste on his face.
"Hasn't anyone taught him manners?" he muttered, going over to the bed and inspecting the dagger from its position in the pole.
When Elrond strode into his room, he launched his sword at the elf Lord. Elrond ducked and the sword impaled the wood wall behind him, humming with the force of Thranduil's throw. "Rhaich," Elrond cursed, looking at the elf king. "What merits throwing a sword at me, Thranduil? Are your accommodations not to your liking?" He quickly recovered his cool and straightened his tunic and cleared his throat.
Thranduil smirked. He had just gotten a reaction out of Elrond, which was a feat indeed. The elf lord surveyed the room, noticing Lindir on the bed. His eyes flashed with fury for a moment before he turned to look back at Thranduil.
Thranduil felt another flash of satisfaction as Lindir quickly sat the rest of the way up and straightened his tunic, clasping it once more. I can still get to you, Elrond, he thought with satisfaction. It amused him to consider all that would be running through Elrond's mind at this moment.
Then, Thranduil realized that he was gloating more than he should be at the moment, and yanked the dagger out of the wall. It was a fine blade and its shape was familiar, as were the markings on it. "Why, Elrond, I believe this is one of your guards'."
Elrond shook himself out of his seething anger and stomped over to where Thranduil was twirling the dagger. "Give it here," he said, trying to take it from Thranduil, who held it above Elrond's reach. The elf lord felt like a child, reaching for it above Thranduil's head, so he simply stepped back and crossed his arms, seething even more. He would kill the king before the night was over.
"Tell me, dear Elrond, who in your guard would want me dead?" Thranduil asked, throwing the knife onto the bed. Lindir had stood up and was positioned beside Elrond, who looked as if he were trying to hold onto his sanity and failing.
"I can think of many," he said smoothly. "But none in my guard. Thank the Valar you haven't had the chance to get to them yet."
Thranduil turned and glanced at Elrond, before raising an eyebrow. "You wound me," he said, placing a melodramatic hand to his chest.
"If I was attempting to wound you," Elrond said, his lips thinning. "I would have drawn my own blade and sliced your pretty throat with it."
Thranduil tisked. "Now, now, Elrond. You do not want anyone else to hear you making threats." He began pacing, looking at the balcony, thinking. "The elf would have had to have access to the gardens below, which could be anyone." He paused in his pacing. "Did you call my throat pretty?"
Elrond winced and came to stand at the balcony. He most definitely had, but Thranduil didn't need to know that he had indeed said that his throat was pretty and believed it wholeheartedly. "I recall no such thing. I believe your vanity has encroached upon us once again and caused you to mishear my words. They would have been able to climb four stories, so your former observation would be incorrect." he continued without missing a beat. "Which narrows it down a bit, but not to any of my guards." He leaned against the balcony and looked back at the King. "Who wants you dead, Thranduil?"
Thranduil laughed, a soft, mocking sound. "Who does not want me dead, Elrond? I believe that will be the smaller group."
"Aye, I suppose you are right," Elrond mused. "Kings and Lords have many enemies. It's a pity your people do not like you more." Thranduil resumed pacing instead of answering. They were all silent for a bit, and when no new revelations presented themselves, Elrond sighed and drew himself away from the balcony. "I will find out everything that I can." As Thranduil opened his mouth, Elrond held up a hand. "Not for your sake," he said acidly. Thranduil rolled his eyes.
"Of course it isn't for my sake, you fool." he snapped. "I was simply offering assistance before you so unkindly cut me off." He gave Elrond a pointed look, which the elf lord chose to ignore.
"Thank you, but I can manage quite well on my own, since it is my guardsmen and Imladris we are talking about," Elrond said, picking up the dagger from the bed. Thranduil looked ready to protest, but Elrond cut him a hard look and he fell silent.
"Very well," he said and sighed. "Though I will do some digging into it myself." At Elrond's look, he sighed again. "You cannot stop me, dear Elrond. It was I who had a dagger thrown at their head."
"Either your assassin has very poor aim, or it was a warning. I would not say that the dagger was thrown at your head, Thranduil, more at your general vicinity."
"Technicalities, Elrond. I never knew you to be so picky."
Elrond looked over at him with a countenance that spoke of great, deliberate patience. It was reflected in his voice as he said, "I trust your guards will do an adequate job of their job tonight," he said. "I will not impose on you any longer. Come, Lindir." He walked from the room, pausing only to tap Thranduil's sword, which was still in the wall. "Be careful where you stick your sword," he called as they left the King's chambers. Thranduil snorted and muttered,
"When have I ever?"
00800
Elrond was seething silently as he left Thranduil's rooms, Lindir following him like a shadow. The elf was quiet and he seemed to be unharmed, but Elrond knew fully well what Thranduil had been doing to him before the dagger was thrown at him. For Eru's sake, can the elf not keep himself in his pants? And his hands out of other's pants?
He turned to the elf, who had his eyes on the floor. His face was unreadable. Elrond paused and caught the elf by the arm. "Lindir," he began. Lindir didn't look up at him and Elrond grabbed his chin, forcing his face up so that he could look at it. There were no marks on his neck and his lips had not been kissed as far as Elrond could tell, for they were not swollen. Every other clasp save the three at his throat were neat and orderly. Of course, the answer is no.
Lindir looked down. "Do not worry, my lord, King Thranduil did not do anything to me."
"But he would have. If his life had not been threatened," Elrond insisted, softening his grip on the elf's chin after he made a small noise of pain.
Lindir looked up in confusion. "No, my lord, he stopped. It was as if he had lost himself for a few moments, and then remembered who I was."
Elrond let go of Lindir's chin and spun around. "Too many cups of wine," he muttered. "The fool." He turned back to Lindir, who had a light dusting of pink across his cheeks. "What did he do?"
Lindir shrugged and lifted his own hand to his face and stroked it down one cheek and slid it under his tunic. Elrond turned away again, bile rising in his throat. Thranduil should not have touched him like that; it was improper and utterly mortifying for both Lindir and himself. "Forgive me," he murmured. "I should not have sent you with him without another person. It seems that our King gets a bit physical when he consumes too much wine."
"Do not worry, my lord. As I said, he stopped after a few moments. After…"
Elrond glanced over his shoulder. "After what?" Lindir swallowed, looking lost. "For Eru's sake, Lindir. Spit it out." Lindir went a deeper shade of pink, and then red.
"After he said your name."
My name? Elrond thought blankly for a few moments. He blinked several times. "What on Arda…" he shook his head. "Are you certain?" Lindir nodded once, a quick jerk of his head. Elrond sighed and put a hand to his face. "Too many cups of wine, indeed," he said.
"My Lord? Do you not feel well?"
"Nay, I am fine. Go to my study, Lindir," he began, handing the elf the knife. "Call upon my other advisors to help look for the engravings on this blade. I have seen the pattern before, but I cannot recall where. I will join you with books shortly."
Lindir nodded, bowed and hurried quickly down the hall. Now that Elrond had finally gotten a chance to look at the blade, he had seen the engraving. It was a simple design set into the silver handle, a design that just escaped the grasp of his memory. He would need to figure it out before the assassin struck again.
Assassin, for that would be the only person to be able to get past Elrond's guards unseen. There was still a lot to be learned this night, a lot to figure out.
Yes, Elrond mused. This night is far from over.
Whew, done with the first chapter! This kind of writing is hard! Geez, I'm so used to writing more dramatic and serious stuff, so tell me if I have utterly failed at bringing humor into this story and I will… I don't know, go back and fix everything perhaps.
Has anyone else ever wondered what on earth the jewels or pure starlight were doing in Erebor? Because I have, so I made up that little thing. And please, tell me what Thranduil rides, because I haven't the slightest clue. An elk? Or moose? Or caribou? Ugh.
Whatever. Oh, and Le hannon means thank you in Sindarin. I probably won't use as much of it as I did in my last fanfic This is No Mere Ranger, but I may use some, so bear with me.
Thanks for reading, please review and all of that pizzaz! I love to hear your comments and what you thought about my writing and/or story idea. Also, please feel free to let me know if I've messed something up, because I'd love to be able to fix it!
Novaer!