"It is very simple, Frodo." Elrond lowered his long body into the chair, giving a deft flick with both wrists. His body sat, robes floating down about his legs in elegant folds.
Frodo frowned . . . looking down at the voluminous court robes he had been asked to don for the feast. However hard he tried, they always ended up in a tangle under his bottom when he sat. But this was the hobbit who had climbed Mount Doom. He could do this . . . he really could.
He lowered himself into his chair, gathering the fabric in his hands and giving a large flick . . .
and sighed . . .
as the robes, which had managed to snag on the backrest of his chair, flopped neatly over his head, rendering him totally blind.
Oh bother!