“Have I ever mentioned how much I loathe negotiations with the Lake-men? You think killing one little dragon gives them the right to dictate their unconditional terms.” Glorfindel slumped in his chair after receiving a glass of wine Elrond poured for him.
Swirling the wine in his own glass, Erestor said, “For them it was an accomplishment. Smaug had been preying on them for quite some time. They did defeat the wyrm without much else but the aid of a hobbit.”
“Pit my balrog against their dragon, and then let us see whose glory was greater,” retorted Glorfindel.
Giving his friend a sideways glance, Erestor said, “Perhaps you neglected to notice that while ‘your’ balrog managed to defeat you as well, Bard’s dragon fell to its death and he lived to become... what was it? King? Chieftain?”
Having been addressed by this question, Elrond shrugged and sipped his wine. “I think he was already.”
“So he managed to live through it. As if I much care,” muttered Glorfindel into his goblet. “He makes it seem as if it were seven dragons and not just one. A lucky shot, that is all. My point is, I have yet to enter a meeting and say, ‘This is my plan, which we should follow for I slayed a balrog!’.”
“Now there is a negotiation tactic we never thought of,” Erestor told Elrond slyly. The elf-lord smirked.
“Seriously.” Glorfindel drank his glass and sat up to reach for the bottle of wine, which Elrond passed over his desk to his captain. “That man should have his asshole removed.”
“Now, now,” Erestor half-scolded. “There is no reason to make him aproctous just because he is arrogant. If that were the case, there would be a lot of justifiable asshole removals these days.”
Elrond stared at his chief staff members for a full minute before saying, “I do not know which astounds me more; the fact that you,” he pointed to Glorfindel, “would suggest such a thing, or that you,” he bent his wrist in Erestor’s direction, “know the proper term for it.”
“All things considered, I do believe I have to go with Erestor knowing a word for it above my suggestion of the procedure.” Glorfindel turned to look at Erestor, who was obviously trying very hard not to smile with the way the corners of his mouth kept twitching. “Did you just make that up, or is that something one would find in that old, musty dictionary you enjoy so much?”
“I did not make it up.” Erestor leaned forward and asked thoughtfully, “How would one go about removing an asshole?”
“Why ask me?” questioned Elrond back.
“Well, you are the healer. You know those sorts of things.”
Setting down his glass, Elrond said, “I most certainly do not! I am in the business of healing, yes, but I am NOT in the business of asshole removal!”
“But if you were, how would it be done?” prodded Erestor.
“It would not be done because I do not think it could be done. If you cut it out, you would just leave a bigger hole. I cannot believe I am discussing this...”
“You could plug it up instead.” Glorfindel blushed slightly after the words left his mouth, and the other two elves shifted uncomfortably. “Nevermind, I suppose that defeats the purpose.”
“And what purpose does asshole removal serve?” wondered Erestor. “If you cut it out, it only makes them a bigger asshole, and if you plug it up, then they would merely become more full of shit.”
It took only a second before all three lords had burst into laughter over their discussion. “Do you know what the sad thing is about all of this?” asked Elrond. “Three of the greatest minds in Arda, and instead of discussing something worldly or of great importance, here we are speaking of assholes.”
“I promise not to include it in the minutes of the meeting,” assured Erestor with a grin.
