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Bizarre Erestor 'Angst'

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be yourself

Bizarre Erestor 'Angst'

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be yourself
I've been going through my files, looking at all the snippets I've begun over the years and never completed. Just found something labeled Bizarre Erestor Angst, which made me curious.

Evidently the scene was supposed to end with Erestor experiencing some angsty moment. However, I broke off at the point when Erestor's reaction to certain events was totally obvious. It was the work of a moment to finish this thing.

This really isn't worth posting on ff.net, so I'm putting it here.

Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to The Lord of the Rings. There's no way anyone would pay me to write this sort of thing.

Erestor had a corner in the library that belonged to him. It was not the easiest place to find, as it was hidden by several bookshelves, and it tended to be dark and gloomy, but it was his. No one bothered him when he was there, and he could work hard on important things without Lindir breathing down his neck and humming in an aggravating way.

It was a winter’s day, and the weather was perfect for sitting in front of a fire and sipping hot drinks, but Erestor was copying out a book that Lord Celeborn wanted for his collection in Lothlorien. Erestor found the work nearly enjoyable. He had spent hours working on a single page, weaving the first letter of each paragraph into a delicately twisted pattern. Leaves and flowers bordered the sheet of parchment and brightly colored birds nestled here and there. Erestor was outlining a letter in golden ink, concentrating hard on his work. The effect would be breathtaking.

“Lord Erestor? Are you there?”

There were two Elves in Imladris who would actively seek Erestor out when he tried to disappear. One was Glorfindel, who Erestor rather liked. The other was Lindir, who Erestor definitely disliked. Unfortunately for the advisor, it was Lindir who hurried through the library yelling his name.

“Erestor! I know you’re in here!”

Erestor remained silent, hoping that the minstrel would give up and go away. He bit the end of his quill pen worriedly as Lindir’s footsteps came closer.

Lindir rounded a bookshelf and beamed at Erestor in what appeared to be genuine delight. “There you are! I brought you a hot drink! It’s cold in here.”

Erestor looked at Lindir silently. He disliked talking, especially when he could make his feelings known merely by glaring.

“You won’t be very useful if you freeze to death,” commented Lindir cheerfully, slamming the drink down on Erestor’s desk. Something hot and milky spilled out of the mug and splashed all over Erestor’s parchment.

Erestor’s eyes widened in horror. Lindir gave a little gasp, and then tried to mop the mess up. He managed to smear wet ink everywhere.

“Oh dear, I’m sorry, Lord Erestor,” he apologized, staring at his green fingers and trying not to meet Erestor’s eyes.

“Die, Lindir! Die, die, die!” yelled Erestor, stabbing Lindir repeatedly with his quill pen.

“What are you doing, Erestor?” cried Glorfindel, entering the room, and being horrified by the grisly scene.

“Save me!” wailed Lindir.

“Uh... I’d really prefer not to interfere,” said Glorfindel, leaving.

Eventually, in an act of desperation, Lindir was able to knock Erestor unconscious with the mug. He crawled brokenly from the room, having learned a valuable lesson about interacting with savage advisors.

Glorfindel lived happily ever after.

The End.
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