Evil Elrond

Glorfindel found himself in a small, stark cell, seated before an ugly wooden desk.

"Where am I?" he wondered, for Imladris had no such rooms that he knew of. He tried to stand up, but his ankles and waist were chained firmly to the chair. He flailed his arms about frantically to prevent himself toppling over.

"You are in a place that suits my purposes," came a sinister voice from the shadows (strange, that such a small cell had deep shadows). Glorfindel recognized it.

"Elrond! What--?"

Elrond stepped out into the light (another puzzling phenomenon, especially since there were no windows or lamps).

"You have been… uncooperative," he said, beginning a slow, predatory circle around the panicking Glorfindel. "May I remind you that you are sworn to my service, and must do my bidding?"

Elrond approached. "You have put this off for far too long," he continued. Glorfindel spotted an enormous, rectangular package in his hands, and stiffened in horror, knowing what it entailed.

"No," he whispered hoarsely. "Anything but that. Anything but the paperwork."

"Ah, but you must," said Elrond, smiling wickedly. "And you will not leave this cell until you do."

A quill appeared in Glorfindel's right hand, just as Elrond slammed the monstrous stack of paper on the desk, spilling a great deal of it across the table. Rosters, receipts and correspondence danced across his field of vision. Valar, there were even last century's accounts…

"No," moaned Glorfindel miserably. "No!" But Elrond merely laughed. The chair rocked precariously as Glorfindel struggled, backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards…

Abruptly, Glorfindel awoke with a jerk. "Argh!" he managed, before hitting the ground.

Erestor's face came into view. "Serves you right for falling asleep in your chair," said the Counselor unsympathetically. "Now get up. We have work to do."