“You heard that we had need of a wizard?” the Lord King Aragorn Elessar Envinyatar Telcontar asked, examining the odd-looking individual who had swept up the Hall of Kings to present himself before the throne. This one was dressed in robes of an unnatural lilac with a rimless pointed cap of the same color pressed down over artlessly windswept golden curls that Aragorn was certain must have taken quite some time to arrange so perfectly. His face was remarkably smooth-shaven, his mouth stretched wide in a particularly troubling smile that appeared to be intended to impress one with the number of extraordinarily white teeth the Man possessed.
“Well, you see, I’d heard that your last Wizard sailed away with a group of Elves--although why he should want to do so I simply couldn’t imagine--pathetic lot, house elves,” the Man commented, not seeming to realize that the King had suddenly gone stiff, as had several individuals in the court. “I mean--really!”
Legolas was exchanging glances with one of the King’s Elven brothers, and then both were fixing the self-styled wizard with their most icy and haughty stares. “Pathetic, you say?” asked Elrohir in a particularly dangerous voice. “And where’s your staff?”
The Man blinked. “What staff? I have my wand here--nine inches, yew with a core of a unicorn’s tail hair....” He produced a straight rod of wood. All within the court considered it with amazement.
Aragorn interrupted. “And what brings you here to Middle Earth and Gondor?”
The one who’d named himself “The Star of the King” gave an elaborate shrug. “Well, you see, it’s like this--there they were doing their best to try to get me to stand up against the Dark Lord, and since I’d heard that you’ve just managed to get rid of yours all on your own, I thought I’d rather like a change of scene.” He glanced around almost guiltily, then leaned forward confidentially, although a good deal of the effect was wasted as the King sat quite some way over his head. “It was that Potter lad--him and his friend Weasley--the two of them were absolutely convinced that I ought to have willingly gone down into the Chamber and faced Slitherin’s monster myself. I ask you--is that the way one ought to treat the five-time winner of Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile Award?”
Gimli stood up abruptly. “Tell me, Aragorn, whether you’ll clap him in motley or if you’d prefer I just chop off his head and be done with it?”
Aragorn was pleased to see the sheen of sweat break out on the Man’s forehead. Perhaps this Gilderoy Lockheart wasn’t quite the fool he appeared to be....