This is a random thing Darth Maitimo and I thought up. The idea: what if Rivendell got infested with tribbles? Enjoy and please review! :D

It was a calm day in Rivendell. Elrond was dozing peacefully on his veranda when suddenly the door burst open. Erestor burst in panicking.

"Lord Elrond!" he shouted.

Elrond nearly jumped a foot in the air. "Erestor! Do you have to burst in like that? What's going on?"

The chief councillor looked nervous. "Well, I…"

"Tell me, what is happening?"

"We're all doomed!" he wailed, wringing his hands.

Elrond jumped to his feet. "What do you mean, we're all doomed? Have we been invaded?"

"Yes, all is lost!"

Elrond ran past Erestor, and into the hallway were he promptly bumped into Glorfindel, whose arms were full of little balls of fur. They all fell onto the floor, and the things flew everywhere, one landing in a nearby elf's glass of wine. Elrond stared at Glorfindel in surprise, and one of his eyebrows arched upwards.

"Glorfindel, what are these?"

Glorfindel started grabbing the furry things desperately. "They're going to get away!" he cried. "Lord Elrond, help me! They cannot escape!"

"What are they?"

Glorfindel seemed not to hear him. "We will never be rid of them!" he moaned dramatically. "Too many…can't…"

"WHAT ARE THEY?! WHERE DID THEY COME FROM?!"

Glorfindel paused in his obsessive gathering of the things. "They are tribbles, my Lord."

"Tribbles?"

"Yes, the twins bought one a week ago from a traveling salesman as a pet for Arwen! They reproduce so fast, all of Imladris is infested with the creatures! They are everywhere!"

"How many are there? How will we get rid of them?"

"I do not know! You should go help! The things are going to take over the granary, and we cannot get rid of them!"

Elrond did not wait for details. He took off at a terrific pace. Erestor, who had watched the whole thing with horrified fascination, followed close behind.

Elrond did not know what to think. So Imladris, the last Homely House West of the Mountains, would fall to tribbles. Balls of fur. Never! He would not allow it to happen. Not while he drew breath. He had heard tales of tribbles taking over whole kingdoms, but he had never taken them seriously. Obviously tribbles were more than a tale for elflings.

TRIBBLESTRIBBLESTRIBBLESTRIBBLES

In the granary…

Elladan and Elrohir were shouting orders to various elves. "Lindir! We need more help over here! Get these tribbles out!" Lindir ran to find more elves, but he was having trouble, because most of them were busy already. "I cannot find anyone else to help!" he gasped, after running halfway around Imladris. "This situation is becoming critical!"

Elladan wiped his brow, which was soaked in sweat. "This is worse than orcs." he muttered. He turned to Lindir. "Tell them we must protect the granaries! The rest will have to wait!"

"I will tell them, my Lord!" said Lindir, and ran off again. He soon returned with around thirty elves, all carrying baskets for gathering tribbles. "Dump them into the river!" commanded Elrohir, knowing it was the only way to dispose of so many tribbles. He could only hope they would not survive to be washed up somewhere else. The elves got to work, trying desperately to gather them all. They had finally gotten all the tribbles in the hallway to the granary, when Elrond and Erestor ran in.

Elladan strode over to Elrond, a triumphant look on his face. "We got them all! They never made it to the grain!"

Elrond looked skeptical. "Are you sure? Have you checked?"

"Well, we have not opened the granary, but I don't think…"

"Why not? I am going to!" Elrond pushed past the twins and walked over to the door of the granary. He pulled out a key and unlocked it.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Ada?" asked Elrohir. "You may spill the grain and attract more of these Eru-cursed furry…things!"

"I must see if they have gotten in!" Elrond opened the door, and a gigantic river of tribbles poured out of the door. Elrond tried to dodge it, but he was completely buried, as were Erestor and the twins. He struggled under the pile, and stuck his head out to see the horrified face of Lindir.

"My Lord Elrond! Are you alright?"

Elrond looked positively furious. "I am quite all right, but the stores are not! Erestor! Send a message to Thranduil, we need assistance! We will never get these things out of Rivendell!"

"But…my Lord." Erestor stuttered. "What should I tell Thranduil? That Rivendell has been conquered by balls of fur?"

"I don't care what you tell him! Just get some more elves to help!"

"Yes, Lord Elrond." Erestor left, trying not to laugh at the sight of Elrond buried in tribbles.

TRIBBLESTRIBBLESTRIBBLESTRIBBLES

Around fifteen minutes later, despite the tribbles on his desk, Erestor had the letter finished. He read it one last time to make sure all was in order.

Greetings, Thranduil, Elven-King of Mirkwood:

Lord Elrond and all of Imladris sends you a plea for help. We have been invaded by tribbles. While most of us only know of these creatures from tales told to us as elflings, they are real. Terribly and horribly real. We are overrun with them. They have eaten all our supplies and are now eating just about everything they can get their teeth on. That is, if they have teeth. They must, to cause such destruction. We ask for your help in this crisis. We ask that you send some elves to help eradicate tribbles. They need not be warriors, anyone would be a great asset to us.

Yours faithfully,

Erestor

Erestor sealed the letter and gave it to their fastest messenger.

TRIBBLESTRIBBLESTRIBBLESTRIBBLES

Thranduil, Legolas and some other elves were on a spider hunt when the messenger galloped up to them. He was clearly exhausted, and so was the horse. He went straight to Thranduil and handed him the letter.

"A message from Lord Elrond." he said.

Thranduil opened the letter and read it. His eyebrows both creeped up his forehead as he read. He turned to the company of elves.

"Rivendell has been invaded by tribbles." he announced in a loud voice. Legolas nearly dropped his bow. If his father had just said 'I love all dwarves' he could not have looked more surprised.

"Tribbles?" he asked.

Thranduil looked impatient. "We all know what they are. Even though we thought they were only in tales. But they are real, and we must assist Elrond. One of you, report back and tell what has happened. The rest of you, come with me. We ride for Imladris!"

TRIBBLESTRIBBLESTRIBBLESTRIBBLES

In Rivendell, the situation was getting hopeless. Elrond, Erestor and the twins had dug themselves out of the tribbles, but everywhere they went, there were tribbles. Tribbles on the floor, on the tables, in the water. When Elrond tried to pour himself some wine, there was a tribble in his cup. He facepalmed.

"ERESTOR!"

"Yes?" asked the councillor, coming in.

"Get these annoying fuzzballs out of my room!"

"My Lord, I would, but I would not even be able to remove them. The river is stopped up with little dead furballs. We cannot put them there anymore. We are at a loss as to what to to with the bodies."

Elrond groaned. "Never mind, we can only hope Thranduil knows something about getting rid of these things. Meanwhile, I don't care where you put them, but do not let them reproduce! Kill them all!"

Erestor raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Glorfindel lost his temper a while back. He had been chopping them into mincemeat."

"I don't blame him in the slightest." said Elrond, pulling out his sword and with a few swift strokes he slew the tribbles on his table, then left and began chopping up tribbles in the hallway. Fur flew everywhere. Erestor sighed. Imladris would never be the same again.

TRIBBLESTRIBBLESTRIBBLESTRIBBLES

Thranduil and his company had just come into sight of the river Bruinen when Legolas stopped. "Look!" he shouted, pointing at the river. Thranduil gasped. The river was polka dotted with every color imaginable. As they drew closer, he could see that they were floating little balls of fur. Tribbles. The whole river was one huge mass of the things. The situation must be near hopeless if there were this many of the things in Imladris. Everyone just stood there, gaping at the sight.

"Quickly!" he shouted. "There isn't much time! If there are this many here, it would surprise me if they are still alive in Imladris!"

TRIBBLESTRIBBLESTRIBBLESTRIBBLES

All the powerful Elven warriors of Rivendell were getting desperate. It was at the point now that they did not even bother carrying away the bodies, they simply slew tribbles as fast and as efficiently as they could. Glorfindel was in the Hall of Fire, chopping wildly at a pile of fuzz.

"Ai, this is worse then the Balrog!" he screamed. "Valar help us!" Inwardly, he was hoping against hope that, if he lived through this, that he would not be known as the Tribble-Slayer…

…as Erestor sat in his study, calmly impaling tribbles on one of his pens, thinking about how he could tease Glorfindel by calling him the Tribble-Slayer…

…and the twins were having trouble getting out of the pile of dead tribbles they had killed. All of Rivendell was now filled with dead tribbles. Elrond staggered over to Glorfindel, covered in fur and blood.

"I wonder if Thranduil got our message?" he muttered. "Surely he will come."

To be continued...

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