My Dearest Kendrah,
Well, it has been a while since I’ve written. As you know, it is the policy of the Crown not to comment on pending legal actions, and so I have had to be quite circumspect in our conversations over the past few months. Now that everything is settled, my representatives have agreed that I can discuss the unfortunate events of the past summer freely. It won’t get me a guest spot on Jon Stewart like South Carolina First Lady Jenny Sanford and her new book, but believe me, the Gondorian tabloids are having a field day!
Let me back up a bit. In the weeks before Pennsic I was, as usual, busy dealing with the end of Pre-College, packing, and cooking, not to mention all those last minute items Faramir always comes up with right before the King and I are about to head off on vacation. I swear he does it deliberately! Anyway, there I am in the Tower Library with the Steward inspecting the new pipe smoking lounge we’ve constructed (far away from ancient, priceless and irreplaceable manuscripts), when we heard a terrible a ruckus in the yard. Up through gates come the Sons (Elladan and Elrohir, not your boys) riding like bats out of Angband!
We bolted down the stairs to find Elrond’s boys in a conversation with the King using some of the most “indelicate” Elven words I’ve ever heard. You haven’t heard swearing until you’ve heard a couple of High Elves cursing like sailors! The King gives us one of those imperial waves of his and Faramir and I follow the three of them into Elessar’s private study (Man-cave). The King calls for ale so I get everyone a drink, get the Son’s out of their cloaks and sitting down and they start in on the story. Now I love a good story and a good Elvish story is even better (Sometimes I have Bilbo moments) but they were talking really fast apparently forgetting that some of us in the room we not native speakers of Sindarin. Eventually, Faramir and I pieced together the saga and it’s not pretty.
It seems that Arwen (the King’s Elf-ex, not the child) had returned from her imposed “rest” in a secure, private facility, and decided to spend the summer with Grandma. Now, we know how Gladders feels about me, so you can imagine the conversations the two of them had. After a few months with the Elf-Witch, Arwen appears in Rivendell and spends several weeks loudly announcing to anyone who would listen that she won’t stand this treatment any longer. She followed the Sons around trying to get them tell her WHY the King broke up her, and when they wouldn’t cough up anything useful, she took whining to any Elf or random Ranger she could find. Rangers are really good at keeping secrets when it comes to Rings and Dark Lords and such, but they love good old-fashioned domestic gossip! You know how rumors get started. The Rivendell press corp has always been very good to me (Thanks to Elrond!), but that trashy rag the Eldar Anor picked up the story. Next thing you know, it’s worse than Brangelina and Jen. Splattered all over the front pages are stories about the poor Elven Princess and how badly she’s been treated by these horrid Men!
The Sons had had enough of her whining and were packing their bags to spend a few years in Mirkwood when they heard the news. It seems Arwen had decided to sue the King and I! Yes, that’s right, SUE! They hurriedly changed their plans and headed for the White City instead to warn us.
Drat! I have to go! The King is shouting something about Snowpocalypse and telling me I need to come and watch the storm warnings on the Palantir Box. Ugh! He probably just needs more coco. I promise to continue my tale soon.
Your Affectionate Friend,