Last Elf Standing, The: 1. Chapter 1

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1. Chapter 1




December 14th, year 3441 of the Second Age



Master of Imladris,



As the red mists of fury clear from my eyes, I can at last find the words
that I have been searching for regarding this...impasse.


Elrond, you wretched excuse for a sapient creature! I ought to pare the points off of your ears, for I cannot bring myself to believe that a single drop of Elven blood runs in your veins! Elendil's heir had the Ring *in his hand*and what did you do? You and Cirdan "counseled" him to throw it into Orodruin. "Counseled"? I have a longsword, a bone to pick, and I'm quite ready to take up your counseling duties if you and that barnacle-faced old salt are having difficulties bringing yourselves to use more than harsh language in correcting this problem. Hello? The young ruler of the most power-hungry race in Arda has *the* artifact of total malignancy hanging around his neck. Can we possibly think that this is a good thing? It cannot be allowed! I'll drop-kick that whelp down into Mount Doom myself if that's what it takes!


Aggrievedly yours,
King Thranduil of Greenwood



~*~



December 16th, 3441 of the Second Age


Thranduil,


Give it up, already. Isildur's a mortal, remember? He'll pop off in a decade or five and we can snatch the Ring then. If we follow your suggestion of tossing him bodily into the Orodruin, we will only start another war. I, for one, am loathe to enter into more conflict at this point; all the gild has been scraped off of my armor as it is.


Get in touch with me once you've calmed down and we'll see what we can do
about the situation.


Sincerely,
Lord Elrond


PS: For the love of Thingol, stop with this 'King of Greenwood' business. I'm sorry that your father's dead, but who's fault is it that he went charging up against the forces of Barad-Dur chin first? Face up to it -- your lineage is about as royal as litter of kittens born in the palace kitchens, and the fact that those Silvan yokels were impressed by Oropher's strutting about doesn't make you king of anything. I mean, honestly, I could declare myself King of that Anthill by the Relief Trenches and no one could refute it, but I have the good taste not to.




~*~



December 17th, 3441 of the Second Age


All right, that's the final straw. Enjoy finishing the clean-up here without us ignorant rustics to provide the labor. May you and your mortal cronies come to fully enjoy the fruits of your folly.


Very sincerely,
King Thranduil of Greenwood


PS: If you ever come East of the Great Forest River, I will be sure to introduce your backside to the toe of my exceptionally kingly boot, you arrogant, Noldor-reared pup!








November 23rd, 04 of the Third Age


Thranduil Oropherion,


I believe that I may have been a bit hasty with my words in our last correspondence. I was hoping that we two might meet in Imladris and speak
of things that ought to have been put to rights on the slopes of Orodruin,
and still may be. I hear that Isildur is easy prey for the "Look over there!"
trick, and has a chin of glass.


Sincerely,
Lord Elrond of Imladris



~*~




December 6th, 04 of the Third Age


Elrond,


I must conclude that your message-carriers are just as unreliable as you
are if you have not gotten the news by this time. It seems that The Last
Alliance's attempts at clean-up were as laughable as its "victory" over Sauron;
less than two months gone, Isildur was mugged by a band of Orcs less than
four days from my kingdom, and now the Ring is missing. I have no doubt that
we shall recover it soon and finish what was started in Mordor but, in the
meantime, I believe you are far overdue an "I told you so".


As to our meeting to work out our differences, do not suppose that my messengers
are as inept as yours. It has reached my ears that my father's shade has
forsaken Mandos' halls for yours, and spends a great portion of the time
explaining to you that Eärendil shines so bright because your father
is flushing with shame.


Feel honored that he's being so kind to you.



Truly amused,
Thranduil, King of Greenwood








July 17th, 142 of the Third Age


Many happy returns, O Eldest Offspring of a Jewelry-Obsessed Feather Duster!


It was with great joy that I heard that your twin boys had reached their twelfth
year. I can recall when my own children were so young, full of boundless
energy, always underfoot, and never quiet for a moment. It is a very special
age indeed, so I put as much thought as I could into choosing their presents.


In the end, I came to the conclusion that only a selection of percussion
instruments from the merchants of Esgaroth would do, as I've heard that your
folk have a great love of music and song. I'm sure boys as talented as your
own will learn to play them correctly in only a few decades.



Sincerely yours,
Thranduil, King of Greenwood


PS: You needn't bother writing back; I'm sure I'll be able to hear the grinding
of your teeth in the deepest chambers of my caverns.







April 01, 1100 of the Third Age


Squatter 'Neath the Green Eaves of the East,


The most extraordinary thing happened just this evening. Upon the outskirts
of Imladris, I met a man dressed all in black, smelling of sulphur, and muttering
about werewolf hair on his robes. We struck up a conversation which I will
not recount to you, as finding sufficient words of few syllables might well
take another age and have other matters to attend to. The gist of it, however,
was that he was looking for suitable land for a summer dwelling. I pointed
him towards Greenwood.


Pray, let me know how the new neighbor works out.



Smirking at you from afar,
Lord Elrond of Imladris


PS: Your "royal" father has commanded me to tell you "Hello" under pain of
something called "The Barrel Song" should I refuse. I don't want to know,
I truly don't.








August 5th, 2003 of the Third Age



Thranduil,


I cannot say how much I enjoyed the trade negotiations and my stay in Mirkwood
-- oh, excuse me: Greenwood; I have no idea how that name could have found
its way onto all of the maps in this region. I regret to inform you, however,
that there was a small incident with Vilya as we left your fair kingdom.


That little stream you like to fish in is now the best cure for insomnia
in all of Arda...but I'm sure you'll have discovered that for yourself by
the time this letter finds you. No need to thank me; I wish I could have
done more.



Laughing all the way back to Imladris,
Lord Elrond








May 13th, 2510 of the Third Age



King Thranduil,


I have had just about enough of this...this insanity! As if the all-night
drum-solos my sons insist upon were not enough, your sire's running commentary
on my family tree threatens to drive me into madness! I did *not* need to
know that Fëanor had a fetish for my mother's hair! Either cease this pointless
feud with my family, or the consequences shall be on your head.



Sincerely,
Lady Celebrian of Imladris




~*~



September 12th, 2510 of the Third Age


Elrond,


I hear Celebrian went so far as to conjure up some thin tale about being
abducted by Orcs before she set out for the Grey Havens. Such a good woman
to try and save face for her husband!


So let us look at the scorecard. In my column, one wife set off for Valinor
of her own accord. In yours, my father and two-thirds of my army dead for
no true victory. Hmm. No, I can't say that looks balanced at all.



Breaking open the old vintage as I write,
Thranduil, King of Greenwood




~*~



January 17th, 2511 of the Third Age



Dear Uncle Thrandy,


Elrohir and I have been thinking about what you said, and you're right! We
should be following our dreams, not languishing here in Rivendell. My brother
and I have no interest in the politics of Middle-Earth, and father's such
a prude about the pipeweed. Is it our fault that we inherited some of
great-great-grandfather Beren's mortal tastes?


At any rate, we're taking our music on the road. I'm sure if we spew some
nonsense about chasing Orcs and avenging mother, no one will ask father any
awkward questions.


Thanks for the advice, and we'll pass through Mirkwood when we get the chance!
Party on!



Yours truly,
Elladan, Middle-Earth's premier drummer



PS: Is what they say about curing pipeweed with water from the Enchanted River true?




~*~





Thranduil,



Prepare yourself for the Fourth Kinslaying.



Elrond





~*~




Elrond,



You couldn't find your arse in a dark room if you used both hands. Just *try* negotiating your way around Greenwood, Noldor-boy. I'll be sure to return
your desiccated remains to your advisors after the spiders have had their way with them.



Thranduil







April 17th, 2770 of the Third Age



To King Thranduil of Mirkwood,


In the interests of wildlife conservation and at the urging of your dear
friend Lord Elrond, we have decided to accept your generous offer and declared
the lands of eastern Mirkwood a protected reserve for one of the few remaining
dragons in Middle Earth. Rest assured that this contribution shall not go
unrewarded; we have included your complementary Middle Earth Sierra Club
tote-bag and tea-cozy.



Sincerely,
Radagast the Brown




~*~


May 3rd, 2770 of the Third Age



My dear Elrond! Didn't you realize that dragons have a lousy sense of direction?
I believe the folk of Erebor and Esgaroth would like a word with you.


Thank you for the tea-cozy, though. My sons are using it for target practice.



Thranduil



PS: Your sons have gone on their way after entirely too brief a stay in my
realm, but I insisted that they visit their dear father as soon as they were
able. As is befitting their station, I bestowed upon them many gifts, including
the sheet music to "The Barrel Song", a little ditty about Rivendell that
seems to consist of an endless chorus of "tra-la-la-lally", and something
called "Tom Bombadil's Greatest Disco Hits". They also carry with them a
good supply of specially prepared pipeweed.



Mandos himself shall weep for thee.








June 23rd, 2941 of the Third Age



Dear Thorin Oakenshield,



Again, please accept my most sincere apologies for the actions of my household.
When my sons visit things tend to get rather...unseemly.



My purpose in sending this letter with you is to advise you of how to best
deal with Gandalf. He's an excellent fellow to have watching your back, but
a bit stodgy. I understand that your journey will take you through Mirkwood,
and Gandalf has undoubtedly warned you against straying from the plainly
marked, safe path through what seems to be obviously dangerous territory.
Take it as a suggestion only, my friend! Wander about and explore! Mirkwood
is a very dull place, and I'm sure its King would be delighted with the company
of Dwarves. Just be careful what you say about your quest...he tends to be
a bit grabby with other people's jewels.



Your friend,
Lord Elrond of Rivendell








February 17th, 3018 of the Third Age



Thranduil,



I have pressing concerns, so I will make this brief. My foster-son will be
making his way through your kingdom with a guest, and I'd suggest that you
play nicely. This is one of those "fate of the world rests on this" sort
of things. Put out the good linens.



Elrond



~*~




March 01, 3018 of the Third Age



Elrond,


Both your foster-son and his...companion made their way safely to my realm.
I confess, I had some trouble distinguishing which of these unkempt, muck-covered
persons you'd claimed as your own, but in the end decided that it had to
be "Strider". Only someone who named his children "elf-man" and "elf-rider"
could foster a person who would take up a by-name that corny (though I suppose Elrohir's name would explain
his reputation among his groupies).



At any rate, we'll do our best by Gollum, but Strider has to go. If he keeps
whining about his ancestry, I'll feed him to the spiders myself.



Thranduil, King of Greenwood








October 20th, 3018 of the Third Age



Thanks ever so, peredhil. Your foster son's "guest" managed to get more of
my people killed; I'm sure they'll be qued up with the others waiting to
have words with you in Valinor. If you're reading this, know it's too late
to stop my son from delivering the sheet-music to "Top 10 Orcish Make-Out
Tunes" to your twins, and a copy of the Silvan Karma Sutra to your lovely
daughter. Fear not, I've included a copy for you so you can imagine just
what your Evenstar will be setting on come her wedding night.



Thranduil, King of Greenwood




~*~




December 26th, 3018 of the Third Age



King of Mirkwood,


Though I had to scrub my eyeballs with lye to get rid of the images you planted
in my brain, I want you to know that I bear you no ill will. To prove how
high I hold you in my esteem, I have sent your son off on a very important mission.
To Mount Doom. With a Dwarf.



Sleep well.



Yours truly,
Lord Elrond of Imladris







April 10th, 3019 of the Third Age



Elrond,



Thanks in part to your assigning him to the Fellowship, my son now has power,
prestige, the love of men and women, and a small settlement all his own in
Ithilien. While us woodland folk spend the last of the time of Elves in Arda living
it up on the Dorwinion vintage, you get to watch your adopted son marry his sister
and try to live down the fact that Elladan and Elrohir have gone east to slay Orcs with disco music. The Valar hate you. Just admit it.



Thranduil, King of Greenwood








September 24th, 3019



Elrond,



I am very disappointed in you! Trying to sneak off to the Grey Havens without even allowing me a parting gift! Fear not! I have spoken to Cirdan and have managed to procure
you passage to Valinor on the same ship as your mother-in-law.


Anyway, I must be off; ruling Eryn Laesgalen is going to be taking up a good
portion of my time, I'm afraid.


And, Master Elrond? The next time your elder and more experienced kin tell
you something is a bad idea, take it to heart!



Sincerely,
Thranduil, King of Eryn Laesgalen



END


This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.

Story Information

Author: Suzene Campos

Status: Reviewed

Completion: Complete

Era: Multi-Age

Genre: Humor

Rating: General

Last Updated: 04/08/03

Original Post: 03/17/03

Go to Last Elf Standing, The overview

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