||well, in distress, obviously
Dear Beloved Clone,
Hi! How are you, blossom? I miss you. It seems like ages since you "went for a walk." But, silly me, it's only been three months.
Uh. II? Where are you? Are you mad at me? Or have you been kidnapped by a band of randy dwarves? In either case, come home this instant! We can work it out!
Though I am concerned by your absence, as are the children (I assume--Arwen and Elrohir seldom emerge from their--yes, their--bedroom these days, and I think Elladan is dead), that is not my only reason for penning this letter.
You see, Rivendell has been taken over by a pink-haired elven miscreant named Rumil. I have no idea how he has done this, seeing as how I am a Proud Elf Lord who fought in the Last Alliance and stuff, whereas his arms resemble toothpicks that have gone on diets. But, uh, he has done so. And I am very distubed.
Please come home; I am all alone. Erestor appears to have gone on some sort of vacation, which he claimed was in his contract, but I'm not positive he knows how to read, so I am suspicious. I miss you, and all the good times we had together, and my home not being in the possession of an effeminate twerp. What if he tries to take advantage of me? Me, your beauteous fiancee? Would you be able to LIVE WITH THE GUILT? What if I decided I liked that kind of thing and joined some riffraff-laden acting troupe in order to get my jollies? Would you like that? Now come home right now so we can get things back to normal.
As always, I love you oodles and miss those nights I spent snuggled up against your gigantic yet sexy ass.
Your loving Rondie