Fletcher was travelling down a treacherous river in a barrel. Suddenly a beautiful elf landed on his shoulders, firing arrows hither and dither with elegance and skill. Fletcher yelled in surprise, but he was enchanted by the elf's flowing golden locks of shining unicorn-like hair. He was overcome by the beauty of the elf and then suddenly, the stench of his feet. For although the elf was a thing of wonder and grace, his feet, which were dangerously close to Fletcher's nose, stank of rotting fish. I suppose that's what happens when you wear the same shoes every day and you walk for miles every day and you never wash your shoes. For shame, Legolas, for shame!

Fletcher wretched and passed out, smacking his head on the wooden barrel, then falling out of it and drowning in the river.

Luckily Legolas had already junked onto someone else's shoulders by that time.

***

"We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of Fletcher Renn, the last teleporter. There really is no explanation for his death, really. Let's just say it was unfortunate, but at least the story featured someone good looking..."