Celeborn could not believe his ears.
"You ... sent ... thirteen ... Naugrim ... to ... stir ... up ... a ... dragon?"
His heart-son replied calmly as if he were discussing an agreement to trade cloth. "And Mithrandir."
The wizard, was, of course, presently sitting at the same council table as the Elves were, discussing how to eject the Necromancer from Dol Goldur.
Celeborn, springing out of his seat, did not even bother to answer the fool. "Orophin! My arms! Erestor, Glorfindel, come with me! Let us pray we are not too late!"
The Lord of Lorien's voice carried as the Elves hurried down the hall. "Erestor, bring your real arms, not those toys you wear to avoid offending me when I visit. Now is not the time for manners! Are there any others here who have fought dragons? Inglor? Good, he can join us."
Mithrandir had also left the room, leaving Elrond alone with Galadriel.
"Really, Elrond, thirteen Dwarves and a Halfling to slay Smaug? You might as well have sent them to Orodruin to vanquish Sauron! Handalóra!" The Lady then left as well, leaving the Lord of Imladris alone at the head of the ornate table.
Handalóra = "idiot" in Quenya.
This probably violates the canonical timeline more than a bit, but I couldn't resist. :)
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.