The handless elf's head jerked up, eyes wide and staring. Constance bit her lip. "Dafydd," she murmured, "I think he's insane..."
"You mean clinically?" At her nod, Dafydd sighed. "I hope not."
"I think I must be," said Ithalond, sounding strangely calm. "You cannot be here."
"Ah, there we go." Constance sat down on the dirt in front of Ithalond, who flinched back slightly � apparently, he wasn't very convinced of her non-existence. "Ithalond, you might have noticed that things aren't exactly normal around here."
Dafydd and Constance, Celebrian: the Mission. (c) Dafydd Illian
All rights reserved.
Real Name: Full name unknown.
Age: 2,016 Ht: 6'6 Wt: 187 lbs
Hair: Silver Eyes: Purple
Bio: Poor bastard. What could badfic possibly do to Agent Ithalond? What hasn't it already done?
Ithalond was an original character from the legendarily bad smutfic Celebrian, which starred a slutified version of the Lady of Imladris. According to the Words, Ithalond was one of Lord Elrond's warriors, sent to find what had happened to Celebrian. He was captured by goblins, who cut off his hands and threw him into the same cell as Hooker!Celebrian.
Help arrived in the form of PPC agents Dafydd and Constance, who had been assigned Celebrian as their latest mission. They appeared next to Ithalond, offering to rescue and recruit him: not surprisingly, the Noldo assumed that they were hallucinations, and told them to bugger off. Finally, they managed to convince him that they were nothing of the kind, and hauled him bodily through the portal- after first agreeing to rescue his wife as well.
Ithalond spent weeks in the Medical department, being healed and equipped with cybernetic hands. The mental trauma was harder to deal with, and to this day, the Elf is jittery, nervous, and inclined to fits of spastic insanity. Upstairs being Upstairs, no attention was paid to these tendencies; Ithalond was partnered with Agent Suicide, the legendarily wacko Scythian soldier whose own partner had just been treated to an insanity-enforced vacation in FicPsych. But like Diocletian, Ithalond somehow found his new partner Suicide easier to get along with than other, actually sane people.
The Elf's first mission was fraught with peril, as he found himself facing a PotC Mary Sue who nevertheless shared a handful of traits with his own MS nemesis. However, guided by Suicide's kind words of encouragement ("Rif, damn it! You won't survive if you don't!") he managed to pull through, turning the corner and beginning the evolution into a very effective PPC agent indeed.
His wife Mithiriel is also turning out to be a PPC type in her own right. A fabulous cook and an elegant lady, Mithiriel nevertheless is one of the most effective users of the Elvish Glare O' Death (c) to ever come down the pike. She uses this formidable ability to genteelly manipulate her husband- and Suicide- into helping her clean the response center, which has been suffering from a bad case of Extruded Laundry Syndrome. In her spare time, Mithiriel runs a playground for underappreciated minis and chairs the Elvish branch of the Anti-Dibbler Movement.
What does the future hold for our traumatized Elvish couple? Only time- and plotbunnies- will tell.
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