Note: Thanks for the reviews, everybody! Short chapter this time. It's mainly to show what "normal" life is like under Sauron's regime, and a chance to stick in some fun Nazi/Commi stuff. I promise the next chapter will actually be about the fellowship!
Chapter 3: A Dire Predicament
Erestor sat at his desk, gazing rather blankly at the opposite wall. His office had escaped the general devastation of the war and though small, was able to keep up a cheery appearance. It was located in the better section of Rivendell. The white runes printed on the glass door read: Erestor, Counselling and Therapy.
The door swung open, ringing a little bell above it, and an elf entered.
"Hello, Lindir," said Erestor, trying to sound cheerful. "How can I help you?" He was guessing from Lindir's harrassed expression that the elf had come for counselling and not counsel. Erestor offered both services, but of late most of his customers had been in need of the former.
Lindir collapsed into a chair in front of the desk. "Have you heard the news?" he asked.
"Probably not," said Erestor. "I haven't had much time to go online—I've had too many patients."
Erestor glanced out the window at an orc who was painting the word "elf" on the glass in large white letters. Lots of elves were needing counselling these days.
"I heard about Glorfindel being taken to the camps, if that's what you mean," Erestor went on. "It's a terrible calamity, but I tried to warn him."
"So you haven't heard?" said Lindir, a trifle repetitiously. "About Arwen?"
For some reason the name gave Erestor a sense of foreboding. Not that there was anything very frightening about Arwen—he had taught her her runes when she was a little elfling—but because there was something in the back of his mind that associated her with problems.
It began to dawn on him as Lindir continued his explanation.
"Lord Elrond was stressing out yesterday about Aragorn being in hiding and unable to take her off his hands, and the Grey Havens being shut down so she can't go to Valinor, and Lothlorien being laid waste so she can't stay with her grandmother anymore, and so…"
"You mean she's back in circulation?" asked Erestor, appalled.
"That's what he was getting at," said Lindir. He looked up at Erestor with his usual expression of bewildered anxiety—rather as if he was permanently expecting a blow from above. "What are we going to do?"
"No need to panic yet," said Erestor. "After all, Aragorn's still alive, and as long as he is, she won't agree to marry anyone else."
"Aragorn can't come out of hiding, and Arwen is getting desperate as well as Lord Elrond—she's just not as willing to admit it."
"Does Glorfindel know?" asked Erestor.
"Of course. Why else do you think he let them take him to the camps? He hates her even more than we do."
"I do not hate Arwen," said Erestor cautiously. "I simply find her company to be a bit overpowering in immoderation. She is really a very nice girl and if I were a younger elf…" He considered for a moment and ammended this. "—A younger elf who was fond of excitement—and was contemplating marriage…"
He gave Lindir a significant look. Lindir sank further into confusion.
"I'm—I'm not young. I'm over seven hundred years old."
"Which is why you should get married before you get any older."
"But I don't like excitement. I had a desk job during the war."
"You need more excitement in your life," said Erestor. "And you get along so well with her father."
Lindir's expression was somewhere beyond harrassment. "Then there would be two of them," he croaked.
"Lindir," said Erestor, leaning back in his chair, "you are the obvious choice. She was practically engaged to you until Aragorn showed up. We were all expecting wedding announcements."
Hoping for them, actually. It was wishful thinking.
"No!" said Lindir. "No, no, no. I never proposed!"
"Lord Elrond proposed for you."
Erestor fondly recalled the numerous counselling fees he had collected from Lindir at this time.
"Why did you talk me out of committing suicide?" said Lindir.
"The answer is obvious, isn't it? I was next on her list."
"Why meeeee?" Lindir wailed.
"Well, don't forget that we had a golden opportunity of getting rid of her and it slipped through our fingers."
Lindir put his face into his hands. "It wasn't my fault," he said. "I tried as hard as anyone else to get her to go to Valinor."
"We all did," said Erestor. "It was my idea in the first place, remember? And Glorfindel laid aside their usual enmity and offered her the use of his horse—even personally escorted her himself. But Lord Elrond put you in charge of making sure that she got there."
"I tried," said Lindir. "I really did. How was I supposed to know that she would have one of her creepy visions and go tearing off back to Rivendell? I almost went on to Valinor myself rather than face Lord Elrond."
"Well, the problem is now yours to solve."
"I can't," said Lindir desperately. "You know how often I'm in here as it is. Eighty years ago I was a happy, sane elven lieutenant. Now look at me."
Erestor looked at Lindir and began to feel a little pity. It was quite true: Lindir had grown much thinner, paler, and more girly-looking.
"I'm sorry, Lindir," said Erestor, "but what else can we do?"
"We could just go to the camps like Glorfindel," said Lindir.
"That would only be a temporary solution. Eventually every elf in Middle Earth will be in the camps—that means Arwen, too."
"Life is horrible," said Lindir putting his face in his hands again.
"There's only one other way out of it," said Erestor.
"What's that?" asked Lindir, grasping at this straw with pathetic eagerness.
"We'll have to bring Aragorn back."
"But that's impossible. Lord Sauron will never pardon him. And even if he does, Aragorn can never be king of Gondor and Arwen probably won't agree to marry him on any other terms."
"True," said Erestor. "The solution, however, is simple. We must make Aragorn defeat Sauron."
Lindir glanced around. "That's treason," he whispered.
"It's the only way out," said Erestor calmly.
"But we don't even know where Aragorn is hiding."
"Elrohir and Elladan can find him."
"They're in detention," said Lindir. "For assaulting an orc."
"Then we must find him," said Erestor. "Otherwise, one of us will have to marry Arwen. We must not fail."
Lindir's eyes grew rounder.
"Where shall we look?"