Glorfindel

Glorfie Stardust: A History

For my own amusement.

glorfind3l
Created February 13, 2002
First updated February 14, 2002
Updated a second time March 2, 2002

Signs a contract with Eldar Records to become "Glorfie Stardust" on 2 March. 4 March, admits to being the "Goblin King"; Rivendell experiences a furry goblin infestation. Glorf sets out to sexually harass Elrond and exist as an airheaded slut. Changes his mind, decides to leave behind his past as an NPC who sticks rings up his butt, beats up his mun (off camera) and sets his sights on a married alcoholic elf with vaguely frightening Marton Csokas icons. Convinces said elf, repressed homosexual and old victim/target/drunkbuddy by name of Celeborn, to help him steal his horse, Asfaloth, back from Celeborn's granddaughter, Arwen, who claimed that Peter Jackson had given the horse to her. Commences Glorfindel/Celeborn plot interaction. Blackmails Arwen over the horse, eventually makes peace, is appointed Celeborn's "bodyguard" by his granddaughter. Continues to hit on Celeborn and subtly push for a divorce. Galadriel finally huffily takes off to Mordor 8 March, declaring that she is to become "evil." (This never happens, probably because she ignores Glorfindel's advice to look into the very eeeeevil filing clerk opportunities in Sauron's office. Tsk.)

9 March, Celeborn admits that he "likes" Glorfindel, Glorf makes a colossal and fortunately successful effort not to tease him about his choice of words. Commence Glorfindel/Celeborn relationship. (Muns remain complete strangers and do not interact OOC.) Celeborn agrees to go on tour with Glorfindel, moves in with him in Rivendell, somewhere along the line starts calling him "Glorfie" regularly. (Glorfiemun takes great pains to get used to this.) Celeborn grows a personality, bless him. Glorfindel's personality 180s to play the straight man (pun not intended) to Celeborn's loveable but histrionic ex-addict. Celeborn also becomes enamored of fuzzy things and strange animals, and a single exceptionally fuzzy goblin is spared in the 12 March Rivendell Goblin Slaughter, an effort to correct the problem of goblins jumping out of closets and cupboards at all hours in Imladris. (In many, many threads throughout all of this, there is much Melkor-attacking-Celeborn bickering, and Melkor vs. Glorfie bickering and sexual harassment that leads to later events. Said bickering sadly ends with Melkor's dwindling participation and eventual disappearance. RIP, Melkie #1. Varda still misses you.) Fuzzy goblin, Jareth, threatens to rape Celeborn on multiple occasions, gnaws on Glorfindel's trachea, and is finally assassinated on 19 March after finally breaking out of his locked wastebasket and causing assorted mayhem. Nevertheless, a harrowing pet collection of Celeborn's begins in the backyard, including an alien (ala Alien), a "harpymander", an evil llama, and so on and so forth.

"I wish I could glare at you for more than two minutes, damnit!"
"Ah, well, that's just my disarming charm at work. ... *laughs* Oh, stop glaring. You love it."
"*attempts glaring again* ... *smiles* Shut up."
"*grins* Like I said."
"Yeah, yeah, your charm. ... You know, it would be so much more charming if you approved of the harpymander."
"I don't need that much charm."
"Damnit."

Celeborn's evil asshole NPC brother, Galathil, after multiple poisonings and other fratricidal attempts on Celeborn's life, is finally hunted down and done away with by Celeborn. He immediately begins haunting the Celeglorf house in Rivendell as the Token Vengeful Ghost. Spends an afternoon throwing knives and chasing Celeborn around with a disembodied axe. Celeborn, refusing to leave the house in order to bid on Harley Davidson cigarettes on eBay, locks himself in the closet with his laptop. Galathil's spirit is yanked back to Valinor just before the axe can chop through the closet door.

mandosnamo: Ah, shit. Sorry about that. We've been having a lot of poltergeist reports since Mandos closed its doors. Souls in limbo do that kind of thing. It's all good, though. We're reopening.
celebrianrules: Namo! Quick, call the Ghost Busters!
mandosnamo: Baby, I am the Ghost Busters.
celebrianrules: Right you are! :)
(Only posting this because it's Ginacel's favourite Námo quote. Eheh.)

Glorfindel comes home and finds out about all of this. Pitches a fit.

"You stayed. inside. for eBay. ... This is where I bitchslap you."

The fight is cut short (relatively speaking) by the 26 March first Middle-earthean Apocalypse: Ossë's Flood/The Raising of Númenor II, in which Glorfindel dies (the first time). Celeborn survives, and gets really, really drunk. Glorfindel gets to deal with the hangover after he's kicked out of Mandos with the rest of the flood victims. Somewhere in all of this, Celeborn's daughter and grandson begin to hint that the couple should get married. Subtle as a ton of bricks, those two. Commence Celeborn's freaking out and high household tension.

Crazy bastard. He's been weird like this for days. When I asked him if we were going to Frodo and Sam's wedding on the 6th, he fell off of his chair.
"What? Wedding? Why? What is it with you people and weddings?! You're always talking about weddings! I need a drink."
"Uh, Cel, I just need to fill out the R.S.V.P. card."
"........Oh. I'll have the chicken."

That his daughter and grandson are determined to see us walk down the aisle probably isn't helping. Elrohir especially likes the idea. We've done the "Are you and my grandfather getting married yet?" routine a dozen times. ("No. Sorry." "Why not?" "Because whenever someone talks about it, your grandfather turns a funny shade of purple and looks like he's choking." "But maybe that's a good thing!" "You're a nice kid. Have a bottle of scotch. I found it hidden in Celeborn's sock drawer.")

Bridal magazines and wedding chapel rental price lists begin appearing in inboxes and under pillows all over the house. Finally, at Frodo and Sam's wedding, the bouquet lands squarely in Glorfindel's lap. "I swear to god, if I find out that this was some elaborately orchestrated scenario plotted out by a dwarf with an extensive knowledge of physics, I'll....... uh......... probably glare at them for a while before going to coax Celeborn out of bathroom." Marriage suggestions and tension do not help relations. Much crap ensues. http://www.livejournal.com/talkread.bml?journal=glorfind3l&itemid=9161

Most importantly, on 6 April, a highly scientific quiz determines that, should he be a Monty Python and the Holy Grail character, Glorfindel would be Tim the Enchanter. Celeborn would be King Arthur. Middle-earth is shaken to its very foundations.

Then.

12 April 2002
As if our lives weren't enough like a bad slash fanfic already.
Yesterday's Biggest Problems:
* I had a papercut.
* A goblin taped Celeborn and I having sex, thinking it was a deathmatch, which was then released on video and DVD throughout the goblin city.
* Celeborn was worried about being unaffectionate.

Today's Biggest Problems:
* I still have a papercut.
* I spent the day out, going around and getting rid of the last of the copies of the goblin's little home video that I could find. I get back, and Celeborn apparently had decided that he hates me for "disappearing."
* Thanks to the asswipe of evil, Celeborn is pregnant.

( 13 AprilCollapse )

Same day-- Glorfindel proposes. Celeborn accepts. Lots of odd conflict results, but hell, it ends happily. Celebrían and Elrohir are pleased. Fatima Fate fucks with the couple once again when on 19 April, the fuzzy demon goblin, Jareth, comes back from the dead and gets a journal. Glorf attacks it with a flamethrower, but the damn thing never stays dead.

Stress from Celeborn's hormonal behavior and the return of the elficidal goblin causes Glorfindel to have a mental breakdown on 20 April, entertaining the hell out of his mun for over 24 hours. He obtains the famed Special Hat, Andronicus, who is with us to this day, and a very special oversized pet duck, named Duck, who lives somewhere in the extensive menagerie. Many cupcakes are distributed. The blue icinged ones are hallucinogenic, and secretly peach-flavoured. :)

( ANDRONICUS AND DUCKCollapse )

He continues to be a bit unhinged for the next few days.

FOOF.

After an accelerated-growth pregnancy (courtesy of Estë), Valier Varda and Estë deliver Celeborn's babies in a bizarre teleportation-y manner, and twin boys Absinthe and Kubrick are born on 26 April 2002. Valar enchantment prevents Celeborn from growing breasts. (http://www.livejournal.com/users/glorfind3l/day/2002/04/27/) Four days later, as a result of a continental epidemic of Ioreth's sex-change virus, Glorfindel turns into a woman. Thinks its cool that he and Cel are now lesbians. Celeborn fails to see the humor. People unfamiliar with the movie Trainspotting are left in the dark. (Celeborn turns into Peta Wilson. Hehe.)



And because one virus is never enough, the Star Wars virus alters Celeborn's hair a bit, and turns Glorfindel into Liam Neeson's long-lost twin. People living in a cave during the summer of 2001 are left in the dark.


Light sabers abound. Celeborn's father, Galadhon, turns into Darth Vader. Lots of Dark Side mumbo jumbo. Chow Yun Fat tries to seduce Celeborn. Um. You had to be there. Celeborn recovers from the Star Wars virus only to morph into an overeager fucker with a bad haircut, complete with a sudden obsession with his friend, Finduilas. (Not really, but he should have. It would have been funny.) Unable to stop bursting into song at random moments, Celeborn commits suicide. Glorfindel has a fit, as per usual. Also commits suicide, shows up at Mandos and chews Celeborn out. Death #2. Unbeknownst to any but the two of them, Glorfindel had won the deeds to Mandos during a drunken poker game during his first visit there. He blackmails Námo with this to get them expediently returned to Middle-earth. Celeborn puzzles over the "single" box checked under "marital status" on Glorfindel's release form, Glorfindel explains the legal reasons behind it, Celeborn remains slightly confused and disconcerted, and...

( Phone call Wednesday eveningCollapse )

17 March, Samwise Gamgee officiates their wedding ceremony, the reception for which continues into the early 18th. A few short days after the wedding, the first canon virus hits Middle-earth as a result of Peter Jackson fucking up digital character files. Celeborn is snapped out of his infection by the words "MARTON CSOKAS". Glorfindel remains canon, partially because of the lack of any horrifying cast member's name to be shouted in his direction. Celeborn is told to get him drunk and shag him out of it, but he settles on getting him drunk, tying him to the bed and threatening to sic goblins on him. Then shagging him.

"Celeborn!"
"Mmrrph... wha?"
"Wake up."
"Wha.. mmph no."
"Damn it. CELEBORN, WAKE UP OR I--"
He snapped to attention, bolting upright in bed, and leaned over me in the dark. "Wait. What? You're back to normal?"
"No. I'm Judy Garland today. Fucking untie me."

More virii to follow. Bakshi causes everyone's personalities to turn into those of the people in their icons. I'm sick of writing about outbreaks, so just read the damned post. There's only one, and there are Ewan McGregor pictures. Glorfindel dies later that same day of a spider bite, which took place in a chat room and was really only carried out to mess with Celeborn's mun. Results in an incredibly sappy thread. Glorfindel posts the chat in which he stripped to "Space Oddity" as consolation. Linked for the benefit of Ginacel and I, and the others involved.

http://www.livejournal.com/users/glorfind3l/day/2002/06/03/
Possession by Théoden results in unexpected trip to Mexico

Another fucking virus. Everyone regressed to childhood.
http://www.livejournal.com/users/glorfind3l/day/2002/06/12/
Still an adult, thank the gods. Appearing in a Jim Henson movie and coming out with your career still intact gives you immunity to certain virii, epidemics and curses. As I defied the animation virus, so I defy the regression curse. Besides, most people doubt that I was ever a child in the first place, since I have no parents or photographic evidence to prove otherwise.
But... That was funny. Jareth magically reappears the next day. Cel and Glorfie muns <3 Jareth. ;-*

I am easily amused.

Cel cuts his hand off. It's a long story. He gets it back later. There's apparently another apocalypse in early August.
*sits back, opens newspaper*
*glances over headlines*
The world ended again?
......
That explains my insurance rates going up.

21 August. The butterflies attack. A mighty battle is waged in Celeborn's garden for many days. They are seemingly invincible. Until! Glorfindel and Celeborn develop the Ultimate Weapon, some sort of pesticide of undetermined origins. They inadvertently bathe in it or something, and next thing you know they're decorating the house with skulls. Wacky chemicals, those pesticides. Glorfindel and Celeborn move to Mordor, a place better suited to their newly altered tastes. They're still there when Glorfindel is chloroformed by strangers and snatched from the yard on Halloween, still in his mask and Halloweeny icon. A ransom note is delivered and answered accordingly, but Glorfindel remains missing. He is presumed dead by Celeborn.

And we come to the end of Glorfindel's MESPT story, and accordingly, Celeborn's. They've moved on, gone on to a better place. A happier, more peaceful plane of existence. A place that loads faster and was willing to give them Early Adopter accounts.. Be happy for them. We are. :) Ball lickers.


Goodniiiiiiiiiiight, Middle-earth. So long, and thanks for all the fish.

And now, a word from our sponsors.



Product concept by: Someone. Some people, I think. In a chatroom. And a really bad fanfic author.

Image provided by: lembas, high regent of the elfmonkeylove.

Lube samples provided by: Celeborn, bless him.

We now return to your regular scheduled programming.

*sets up mini-minefield in yard in preparation for Trick-or-Treaters*

*dons zombie costume, freaks the fuck out of Celeborn, changes into a simple mask, freaks the fuck out of the kids*

*carves pumpkins with family unit*
( PhotoCollapse )

*dresses up the kids in stupid but cute little outfits, the photos of which will humiliate them later in life... tch, kids*

*takes pictures of Absinthe*
( PhotoCollapse )

*and Kubrick*
( PhotoCollapse )

*kicks Cel's orc-buddies out of the house before they eat all of the vodka chocolates*

*goes outside to hang up the skull-and-crossbones lights*

*is chloroformed and dragged into an unmarked van*

Ah, fuck. It never fails.

Orcs. In the living room. With my children in the care of a harpymander. Yes, I understand that she's a very nice harpymander, but that doesn't change the fact that her skin smoulders at a temperature upwards of 300°F. Not exactly babysitter material, unless you begat a fucking Balrog.

I know that to the casual journal-reading observer, this may seem like any other Thursday in the life of... us, but I forgot to take my stress pills today, so I'm a little more ON EDGE than usual. (Shut up.)

SO.

I decided that, in light of recent events, Cel was never meant to be a housewife. I myself never expected him to be, it was just a side effect of the unnatural conception of the twins. Though few people seem to be aware of any previous position of his beyond "Trophy Husband" and "Doorman of Galadriel", he did work once. In an actual work setting, he's quite competent, so long as there's minimal amounts of liquor involved.

Celeborn, my love, it's time you got a job. *flicks open the Want Ads*

What kind of porno would you star in?
brought to you by Quizilla

We're still unpacking, and the apartment still smells like orc. What a fucking beautiful way to start things off. Sauron claims that the smell is from an "unfortunate incident" involving a drunken party of yrch breaking into empty apartments in the Barad-dûr complex, but I hold to the theory that he just took out all the Glade Plug-Ins the real estate agent stuck around the place before we came to look at it. Cheap bastard. Cel's solution to the problem thus far has been to walk around the apartment with several cans of air freshener stuffed in his new utility belt. The landlord refuses to pay for a cleaning crew to come in to get rid of the stench. Never rent from a Dark Lord. Stubborn fucks.

I've been distracting myself with the usual methods; playing with the kids, playing with Celeborn, working random subliminal messages into my next album ("Middle-Earthling") and continuing a pleasant correspondence with my mother-in-law. Celeborn has just been shooting orcs from the bedroom window. And I'm pretty sure that the limb Jareth has been toting around in his furry little jaws used to belong to one of Sauron's staff. Heh.

We had a hobbitbaby visit us for a while earlier, too. Hehe. Bilbo's a great little kid, he doesn't cry about the decorations in the garden like the whiners we have next door. Easy to please, too. Incredible how many pancakes that child can consume in a day. I left a few voicemails for the Gamgees, but no one returned my calls and now the bug has gone off somewhere else in his continuing saga of crayons, incest insects, guardian stress headaches, and whatever else it is baby hobbits do on their adventures about Middle-Earth. He made little paper hats for the twins before he left. Cute. :)

LAKDJFLAKSDJFKLASDJKFLASDLKJFASDF Fucking movers dropped another lamp. I have to help Cel find the box we packed the semi-automatics in.

So, yeah, we're moving to Mordor to get away from the neighbors bitching about the legality of discharging firearms on a suburban street (a bunch of Mormons, one bullet apiece, I fail to see what all the fuss was about) and how the skulls-- which Celeborn VERY METICULOUSLY boiled and cleaned; we have children in the house, after all-- and black roses in Cel's garden "disturb the atmosphere" of the neighborhood. Fucking prissy elves. This all stems from having a drag queen for a Fearless Leader, I'm sure of it. Anyway, Brí came over for nachos yesterday. We decided to tell her about the move in person, not sure as to how she would react. (Hormones.)

The first words out of her mouth over the threshold were, "Wow, Daddy, you're wearing a lot of leather these days." This somehow triggered a classic Celeborn guiltfit, in which he automatically started hunting for a nearby bottle of Jack Daniels, trying not to cry, and speaking in a barely-coherent string of remorseful consonant and vowel combinations.

"I'msorryprincessIknowyou'rehavingthebabiessoon butthepeoplenextdoorarethreateningtosueandyouknowhowGlorfie'slawyersare Ican'thavetheminthehouseagain wedon'thaveanyroomleftforthebodiesIpromisewe'll comebackthesecondyougointolabourIwanttobetherewhenmynewgrandchildrenare bornbecauseifI'mnotdrunkforthisone maybeI'llrememberitwheredidGlorfieputmybooze..."

It went on for another five minutes or so. Then we had nachos and killed my agent. Celeborn suggested it, since I had a few rounds left in my guns from my stint fighting for Rohan against Dol Amroth. It was that bitch's beeper that called me out of the battle in the first place. Legal issues with the Dol Amroth-based sponsors. They apparently don't like seeing their biggest Eldar contract killing their kin.

*mildly deranged laughter* AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA VICTORY!

Yes, my friends, the butterflies are no more. The yard is littered with sizzling butterfly bits. Mua ha ha ha. Celeborn is so glad to see them gone (he still resents the loss of his goblin and psychic teddy bear) that he's choosing to ignore the fact that the pesticide turned his rosebushes black, and that he stained his khakis when he fell into a puddle of the junk while frolicking and taunting the butterfly demon corpses. He also cut his hair when I wasn't looking. Weird.

< edit > Uh, he's painting the kitchen black now. He just finished recoordinating it with greens and blues yesterday. Um. I've never seen him wear that much hair gel before.