A/N: Just a little something to entertain myself for two minutes.

Disclaimer: I don't own a single Elf. If you're selling one for a cheap price (who isn't Legolas) let me know.

Note: No offence was meant to any Elf lords in the writing of this fanfiction.

"Far off yet is his doom, and not by the hand of a man will he fall." –Glorfindel vaguely prophesizes the details of the Witch-king's demise

His Doom

"Good afternoon, Glorfindel."

"Lord Elrond."

"Er… how are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine. And you?"

"Just great."

"That's good."

"Hey, er… Glorfindel?"

"Yes, Elrond?"

"I just thought you should know, er… that is… well the Witch-king of Angmar was destroyed."

"Mm-hmm… I see."

"I suppose that was obvious."

"Oh, fairly."

"Yes…"

"So he's dead?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well, how did he die?"

"He was slain by…"

"Yes?"

"By…"

"Yes?"

"A hobbit and a woman."

"YES! Haha, I KNEW it! Go Glorfi, go Glorfi, it's your birthday! It's your birthday! Now pay up!"

"That's the last time I make a bet with you."