Authoress' Note:

Warning: This is a lot of rambling and silliness. It doesn't have much of a plot.

I do not own The Lord of the Rings, etc.

Special thanks to Erestor (get back on here and start writing again!), who is so inspiring. My love for Lindir was first born when he put a paint pot over his head in 'Celeborn's Club'. Thank you, Erestor, for helping me choose my favourite elf! :P

Please read, review, and enjoy!

Part One: Nail Polish Remover

Note: The sentiments expressed in this story are not necessarily those of the authoress. I actually like nail polish :P

Chapter 1.

In Which Fell Forces Enter Rivendell

Lindir was running down a long passage in Rivendell.
Now it is not a normal thing for Lindir to run down long passages; he was normally a nice, quiet, more or less dignified elf. But at this moment he was rather disturbed.
It so happened that he had just seen Gildor. Gildor is rather a disturbing sight at the best of times, but even at his worst, when he had fallen into the sea of Rhun, he had not looked as bad as he did now.
Gildor had painted his nails.
Needless to say, Lindir was horrified. Paint is all very well, on walls or signs or the windshield of Legolas' shiny sports car, but on nails, especially those of a highly respected elf, it was positively electrifying.
So Lindir made his way with amazing speed through Rivendell and to the library, where Erestor was stationed with Lord Elrond. They were having a private conference.
Of course, neither was very pleased when Lindir rocketed through the door and landed squarely in Erestor's ink pot.
At least, his face did; or at least, his nose did. He came up out of the ink pot with a nose that rivaled Gildor's fingernails for painty-ness.
'Lord Elrond,' he bubbled. Excuse him for bubbling, for it is hard to do anything else when you've just been dunked in ink.
'Lindir?' replied the Lord of Rivendell calmly. He was used to oddities (after all, Erestor was always doing something strange, not to mention Glorfindel- or any of the other elves, really), and even the sight of an ink-soaked elven nose only mildly disturbed him.
Lindir would have gulped nervously at this point, except he didn't want to swallow any ink, which was now dripping into his mouth and down his chin in a most amiable manner. 'My Lord,' he repeated, 'something terrible has happened to Gildor.'
'Has he fallen into the horse trough again?' asked Erestor hopefully.
'No,' said Lindir, scowling, 'He's done something much more serious.'
'Don't tell me he's base-jumped* off Minas Tirith,' said Elrond, lowering his eyebrows. 'I've been so dependent on him to set a good example for the younger and wilder elves. We've lost so many through that mindless sport; even Denethor disapproves, and he's the one who started the fad. And Elessar has outlawed it.'
'No, my Lord,' said Lindir, 'though I wish he had. He has endangered all the realms of elves and men, and subjected himself and the last homely house to unceasing ridicule to boot.'
'Oh, dear,' said Elrond. Finally he was perturbed. Elrond was brave, fierce, and strong, and had endured many untimely elven deaths caused by base-jumping off Minas Tirith with amazing vigor. But ridicule was something he simply couldn't bear, and the thought of him being subjected to it was painful to say the least. 'What exactly did he do?' he asked, and a hint of foreboding crept into his voice.
Now that it came to it, Lindir was very uncomfortable. It is strangely silly sounding to say outright, 'Gildor has painted his nails.' Lindir hadn't though of the embarrassing factor before. So he shifted shamefacedly and hesitated.
'Out with it, elf,' said Lord Elrond irritably.
Lindir closed his eyes and said the fell sentence very quickly. He slowly opened one eye to see Elrond's reaction.
Elrond was puzzled. 'Gildor has painted his nails? What nails?'
'His nails,' said Lindir. 'And they look terrible.'
'I believe he means his fingernails, my Lord,' explained Erestor. 'Tell me Legolas did, too,' he added to Lindir. 'I could get a picture and blackmail him for millions in a few years.'
'I don't know if he did or not,' said Lindir. 'I only know that Gildor did, and is showing everyone from Mordor to Bree how ridiculous they look.'
'Oh,' said Elrond. He would have been concerned for Lindir's mental health, but he had stopped worrying about it long ago when he realized that Lindir was too far gone for it to matter. 'Let me see them,' he said.
'I'll stay here,' said Erestor quickly, straightening up the papers scattered on his desk. 'I have no desire to see this phenomenon.'

*Base-jumping off Minas Tirith was a popular sport in Gondor. It was Denethor who started the fad when he leaped to his death (or tried to).

Sorry that nothing has really happened yet. The next chapters may be more interesting. :D