#theremustbeaway

Urgently. Desperately. Before I lose what little remains of my elvish composure.

Glorfindel is at it again.

I do not know what sparked this latest display—perhaps he woke up particularly pleased with himself, which is an occurrence so frequent it hardly seems worth noting—but I tell you this: Rivendell is suffering.

He is singing. 🎶

But not just singing—he is serenading the halls as if he were a minstrel in some ridiculous mortal court. Twice already today, he has dramatically twirled his cloak, declared himself the “light of this household,” and spun in a perfect circle while holding a goblet of wine. The wine did not spill. He is unbearable.

He has greeted every elf he passed with a wink and the words "fear not, dear heart, for the sun still shines and so do I." 🌞 I watched Elrond close his eyes and inhale deeply, the way he does when he is deciding between banishing someone or simply suffering in silence.

I attempted to ignore him, but then—then—he stood upon a balcony, threw out his arms as if he were some tragic, romantic figure in a ballad, and declared to the valley below: "AH, WHAT A DAY TO BE BEAUTIFUL AND BELOVED."

I cannot do this. I cannot do this.

What counter-magic do you mortals possess to silence a creature so infuriatingly self-satisfied? Must I challenge him to a duel? Must I sabotage his hair products? Must I—dare I say it—compliment him so excessively that he grows suspicious and flees?