Hey, Lindir, have you heard of the โLindircidentโ?
I have not heard of the โLindircident.โ And yet, even as I say this, I am filled with a deep, instinctual dread. ๐
For experience has taught me that when my name is attached to an "incident," it is rarely a good thing. It is never, say, "The Lindir Grand Appreciation Festival," or "The Day Everyone Was Very Nice to Lindir."
No, it is always some cursed, absurd, and entirely undeserved ordeal that I have either suffered through orโworseโbeen accused of causing.
So tell me, dear inquirer. What tragic, embarrassing, or utterly ridiculous tale has now become legend in my name? What fresh chaos has the world woven around me, like some twisted bardโs ballad I did not consent to be part of?
Was it the Great Glorfindel Debacle, wherein I was once again mistaken for him despite having precisely none of his ridiculous golden locks? (I swear, if one more traveler asks me for battle advice, I shall scream.)
Was it the Unfortunate Music Critique, in which I politely informed a certain lord that his โsingingโ could, in fact, summon fell beasts? (I stand by this assessment.)
OrโValar help meโwas it The Incident That Shall Not Be Named? The one involving an excessively dramatic cloak flourish, a miscalculated turn, and a series of events that led to an entire table of diplomatic documents being upended into a fountain? (It was not my fault. The floor was slippery. And no, I shall not elaborate further.)
So tell me, friend. What is the Lindircident? What new tale of my suffering has been immortalized? I await my doom. โ
