Tolkien, New Line Cinema, P. Jackson, etc own. Do you see my name there? Guess what? I don't own. In fact, I'm not making any money either.

Total irreverence follows. This is not focused at any specific writer, I just wanted to write a silly fic.

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Arwen Undomiel looked breathlessly at the dawn. Darkness was defeated and Aragorn lived. With a skip in her step, she flounced towards her father.

"Adar, Aragorn has claimed kingship! You must let me marry him now!"

"No."

"What?"

"No."

"But…"

"I lied. Besides, Argorn has many offers, he will hardly be heart broken."

"What?"

"Well, there's Eowyn and Legolas and Frodo and Gandalf and Sam and Merry & Pippin together and Haldir and Faramir and Boromir…"

"Isn't Boromir dead?"

Elrond glared at his daughter.

"As I was saying: Boromir and Glorfindel and your mysterious twin sister…"

"I have a mysterious sister?"

Another glare.

"Elladan and Elrohir and Bill the Pony (glare) and of course there is that lovely girl that keeps dropping into the council and Galadriel and Galadriel's daughter…"

"He's sleeping with Mother?"

"No dear, your aunt. The one with the velvety Silver hair with a hint of smoky blue, sparkling violet eyes who can play the oboe, dance, fights Orcs, loves Dwarves, tends animals, is telepathic and does metal work all at once."

"Why haven't I met her?"

"Haven't you heard what she does? She's a very busy woman. She only has time for romance with Kings."

"But, but these affairs cannot all be true!"

"Yes, they can."

"But it is physically impossible for a man to be that… active!"

"One word my daughter: Viagra."

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I don't own Pfizer or Viagra either.