Mortification
Disclaimer: I own not The Lord of the Rings. This was written to entertain myself, and hopefully someone else.
A Task Force Reformed
Note: I'm no medical genius. So correct me if I have made a misdiagnoses.
o-o-o-o-o
The following is what I have gathered from many Elves who attended the Supply Room Meeting. Almost all their stories conflicted with one another, but there are many things that are included in all their statements.
Like how Estel found the joy in poking Elves.
Erestor was found by the young mortal, who obviously thought it was peculiar that an Elf would take a nap with his eyes closed – and in a hallway, too. To see what would happen if one poked a sleeping Elf, Estel prodded Erestor's side. Although when he started to open Erestor's eyes for him, the Elf protested with a shout.
"Ai! Estel! What are you trying to do? Poke my eye out?"
"No, I'd get in trouble for that."
Erestor rolled over and sat himself up against the wall. No, the floor looked much to unsteady to stand on. Erestor told me that it reminded him of the time Glorfindel insisted he go on a 'boat ride' with him down the Brunien. The 'boat ride' was more like a primitive form of white water rafting, except without the necessary safety precautions. And it didn't help that the water was frigid cold.
From that day on, Erestor refused to go anywhere near water with that foolhardy Glorfindel. Not that I blame him, of course.
"Erestor, why were you sleeping on the floor? Did you find the worms I put in your bed this morning?"
The chief advisor looked at the child with disgust.
"No, Estel. I wasn't sleeping…. Ah! The Sue! Where is she? I'm going to make sure her passing is slow and agonizing…"
"Sue? What's that?"
"I can't explain Estel… You'll understand when you are older. But have you seen an Elf-maiden around here that you don't know?"
"Yea. I saw one with Lindir. Over in the healing wing, I think."
Erestor rolled his eyes. It wasn't my fault that I had fallen for her!
Now the floor didn't seem to be moving as much. The Elf deemed it safe to stand on. So he stood up, using Estel as a cane.
"Hey, Erestor."
"What, Estel?"
"You've got some pottery in your hair."
o-o-o-o-o
"Lindir has what?" Elrond asked incredulously from behind a rather large Mirkwood Wine advertisement. "I cannot say he doesn't deserve it."
"Adar, he's surely and slowly falling under that treacherous creature's curse. What if he disappears and never returns?"
A grin spread across Elrond's face. "And that's a bad thing?" (I knew he never liked me. When he humiliates himself, which isn't hard for him to do, I'll make sure to be extra 'considerate'.)
"Adar! Lindir is annoying at times, but we can't let another Elf fall victim to one of…them!"
"How can we prevent something that's already happening?" Elrond muttered as he cleaning off his reading glasses. (You are probably wondering why an Elf wears…glasses. See, as a young Elfling, Elrond sat much too close to the television, and never ate his carrots. Therefore, his eyesight worsened as his age went hundreds of years higher.)
"To do so," Elladan smirked, "we must get rid of the so-called 'Daughter of Sauron and Galadriel'."
Elrond looked at his eldest, horrified. Who would think of such a revolting pair? Galadriel, as lovely as she was, deserved much better than a Dark Lord who probably thought Elf-jerky made an excellent afternoon snack. Well, when he had a body, of course.
"Changed your mind, Adar?"
"Yes, yes I have. Gather up my Erestor, Glorfindel, and your brother. We've got an emergency."
"What about Lindir?"
"NO!" The Lord of Imladris shouted as quietly as possible. "He will be singing sappy love ballads to the wretched creature. If he knew of our plot to rid Imladris of her, he'd surely run to Mirkwood and elope with the thing."
Elladan turned on his heel and walked out of the room, long robes swishing all about.
o-o-o-o-o
Apparently, the Elves didn't keep their stories straight. So they were all different. But upon interviewing them, I used the points I like the most.
"Friends of distant lands…"
"If the library is distant, then I'm foreign."
"Wrong speech, Elrond."
"Well, sorry! Where was I? Oh, yes. Friends of…Imladris, we are gathered here today to discuss the most urgent matter to strike Imladris in years. A terrible thing is happening to one of our fellow Elves, and friends. Lindir has fallen under the charm of a Sue, who claims to be the daughter of Sauron and Galadriel, a mortal-turned-Elf-maiden. She calls herself 'Narielle'. We must find a way to stop her, lest we have an epidemic on our hands."
Elrohir tried to stand up to state his opinion on disposal of Sue matter, but he stepped on a rake instead, hitting himself in the head with the wooden handle. Have you ever seen anyone do that? I find it quite amusing; though Elrohir did not.
The dazed Elf held a hand to his head, and stooped down so he did not bang into a shelf holding a lot of rusty gardening tools.
"As I was going to say," he continued, quite slowly. "The best way to get rid of Sue is to push it off of something. A balcony, cliff, waterfall, cavern --"
"But that's so unoriginal!" Elladan protested.
"Yes, but effective!"
"Since when did you have to figure that out?"
"Remember that one Elven beauty in Mirkwood? The one who stalked me?"
"Yes, I remember her. Breathtaking."
"What Elven maiden, Elrohir?"
"Uh… no one, Adar."
"How could she be no one? You pushed her off of a bloody cliff!"
"I did not!"
"Did too!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Did – Ai! Why did you throw that trowel at me!"
"SIELNCE!" Elrond bellowed. Pots on the shelf shook. "Elrohir, don't worry, your head will stop bleeding… eventually, and Elladan, act like your age!"
"I don't want to interrupt any family matters, but Elrond, we must get on with it." Erestor said from his lovely pile of burlap sacks.
"Wha? I think the blood loss is making me delirious."
"Oh, shut up, Elrohir. It's barely a paper cut."
"You call this a paper cut? I'll probably get tetanus!"
"What's that?"
"I said we need to get on with it!" The chief advisor shouted.
At last there was silence. Elrohir dizzily sank down into a rather oversized pot.
Glorfindel spoke up. "When we had a Mary-sue in Imladris years ago, we found a very successful way of ridding the valley of Sues."
"What was that?" Elrohir inquired. "Did you push her off of a cliff?"
Erestor jabbed Elrohir in the side. He whispered, "You know Glorfindel is sensitive about cliffs and heights!"
The younger of the two twins looked over at the Balrog slayer, who looked as if he was going have an emotional breakdown. Now he states he was not going to have an emotional breakdown, but some dust had settled in his eyes.
"No…" the golden-haired Elf said after a moment of regaining his composure. "She choked on her cannoli."
The Elves looked up at Glorfindel. It was a good idea, simple, effective, and unsuspicious.
"But how do we make her choke on it? There's one flaw already." Erestor rubbed his temples in frustration in the all too common Elven fashion.
"We can always douse the pastry in that new pepper Elladan brought home from Bree. What was it called? Cayenne? I saw him choking on it after he doused a piece of cheese with it." Elrohir suggested.
Elladan glared at his twin. He was humiliated when a few of Elrond's paramedic Elves had to perform that new procedure… what was it again? CPR? I believe it was. Elrond sat calmly, continuing to eat his cheese, while Elladan flailed about as if he was trying to fly. Little did we know he just wanted water!
"I suppose it will work," growled Elladan. "If you bring that up again, little brother, I'll make sure you choke on a piece of cheese."
Elrohir gave his twin a cold glare that boldly wrote murder in his eyes.
"Great!" Elrond slapped his knee. "Now, I'm late for my meeting."
Erestor was worried. He knew all about Elrond's meetings. Had he forgotten? He couldn't have forgotten. He had the best memory of them all! He could remember nearly everything. At least, he thought he could remember everything. "What meeting is it, Elrond? Need I come? Did I forget? Please don't put me on stable duty!"
"Oh, I won't, Erestor. But I would rather go alone."
"Why?"
"I have to use the little Elfling's room…"
o-o-o-o-o
While the others were conspiring among one another, Narielle and I were taking a walk through the gardens. She had only slept briefly, very briefly, and demanded that I take her on a grand tour. The Sue was limping much less; in fact, you could barely tell she had sprained anything at all.
I heard many Elves murmuring sympathetically in the company of each other, it was mostly about my fate and how they 'pitied me so'. Though, at the time, I cared less on what they said.I cared only for Narielle, and the story of her long and tragic life. She had met up with her unknown step-brother brother when she was cast of out Southern Mirkwood and traveled to Bree. Then they decided to tour Lothlorien, so Narielle could meet up with her 'mommy'. Then things went ill. Her so called 'step-brother' (I doubt he existed), perished while fighting off a rather moronic band of orcs. Since the said orcs were so moronic, Narielle was able to ward them off easily. They probably would have dropped dead if she asked them to do so.
"Lindir, love, what is it like in Rivendell?"
"Oh, most interesting. Nearly everyone – including Lord Elrond – wants to snap the strings on my harp and smash my other instruments."
Narille was horrified. Though I doubt it was real. She was of Sue kind. They are not to be trusted. Despite the fact that I was under her spell, so I did not realize it. If I wasn't, I'm sure I would have made use of a sword. Well, a butter knife would've been easier to handle, but much less effective…
"How could they take away the equipment of a genius composer?" she asked in a melodious voice. It was so wondrous, like warm butter on the head of a bald mortal.
I blushed. "You flatter me…l-lo-"
Narielle was ecstatic. She squealed, "You were going to call me your love!" then hugged me. I believe I lost about twenty percent of my lung capacity.
"Er…yes…I was…" I choked out. She let go.
"Oh, Lindir! I love you!"
Just back away slowly. Then run away. Don't let her…
She put a rather loud kiss on my face.
…kiss you. Lindir, you idiot! Go scrub your face with a disinfectant! Now!
o-o-o-o-o
Long and torturous days passed. Narielle clung to my arm as I prepared music. Most were love ballads, which would surely disappoint the twins. I had promised I would try out some new songs, but Narielle had convinced me that romantic songs were better than the twins' music, which they called 'rap'.
Each day I taught Narielle how to play the instrument of her choice. She selected a harp; simple, yet elegant. At the time I was very elated to teach her. Now, I am appalled to have done such a thing, her melodious voice drifting upon the wind…
Ah, I shall be right back. I'm running out of ink. Mayhap I can 'borrow' a bottle from the library.
That was harder than I thought. I had to fight Erestor for the bottle. I won.
As I was saying, her voice seemed to flow with the wind. Only a beauty such as Narielle could have sung it.
A few more days passed; it was only a matter of hours 'til the festival. Elrohir was worried he had 'tetanus', whatever that was, for his face kept twitching, apparently. But I always thought the twitching was genetic among Elrond's family. His eyebrows twitched constantly, Galadriel's eyebrows twitched; Celeborn, fortunately, seemed to have missed out on the lovely Elven fad.
Narielle was getting ready for the festival, spending hours preparing her hair and gown. Minutes before the festival was to start, she stepped out of her quarters, in a lovely purple evening dress that seemed to turn silver if you looked at it in a different way.
"How do I look, Love?" She asked. I gazed at her lovely soft hair, so dark and soft it was; she had it done up in curls, which cascaded down her back in a waterfall of tresses. Her feather soft skin glowed like the sunset, and in her deep violet eyes there were silver sparkles of excitement and age.
I cleared my throat and bowed low. "I would be honored if such a fair lady would accompany me to the festival."
"I accept." She whispered and put a little package in my hands. "Happy birthday, love."
"You remembered? No one remembers! Ooh, what is it?" Like an Elfling at winter solstice, I tore through the tissue paper to see what was underneath. Her gift to me was quite curious, for it was a small violin carved out of wood. I have sympathy for the craftsman who made that.
"It's the world's smallest violin!" giggled Narielle.