Warning: This one is so silly it's dangerous. I mean it. It's random and pointless and not too funny. Proceed at risk to judgement.


EN CHOIR

F.A., pre-Beren Doriath.

"Tralalalaa.."

"Hoom…"

"Tra la la la la."

"Hoom-hoom-hoom-hoom-hoom."

"Tra-la-la-la-lally .."

"Hoom-hoom-hoom-hoom-hoom-hoom …"

"Ahem. Thank you, elves. Lord Fangorn and Co., a moment?"

"Hoom. Far too short a time, a moment. Yes."

"For we who are eternal, indeed. But as it took from bright day to dinner-time for us to complete a single scale, I must beg you to allow me to do the talking. Now."

"Hoom."

"We might have to ask you to leave the Menegroth choir. Not because you don't have the loveliest of voices – you do, I never fail to be amazed, but I do believe there's a conflict of - we do a lot of narrative and that's not –"

"Hoom?"

"- exactly your forte. I mean, our stories are much shorter, much much, and you're, well, detailed, the lists and so on – "

"Excuse me, mister."

"Master Quickbeam?"

"No offence, but no one we know took, like, three hundred years to think of how to introduce ourselves to a girl."

"Queen Melian…"

"Thus causing a bunch of trees.."

"Elves…"

"…to miss the boat. Quite literally."

"On behalf of King Thingol – "

"Shmingol. Come on, treeherds. This outing certainly wasn't worth my "The point is not moot, it's Entmoot" bark shirt. Draught-time!"

"Hoom!!"

----------


T.A. 3019, S.R. Lothlórien.

"So, Fangorn forest. I think it's worth the risk. Um, Lord Celeborn?"

"At your own risk, Boromir lad, at your own risk."


Disclaimer: All characters and locations property of the Tolkien Estate. I borrow.