Name: When Legolas loses face
Type: Lord of the Rings
Genre: Humour
Main Characters: Legolas, Aragorn, Gimili
Plot: Legolas is stuck in the middle of nowhere, with stinky Aragorn & short-ass Gimili, how will he cope? Not well without his make-up bag, I'll bet.
Disclaimer: Don't sue! I'm not worth it, well unless you like massive pirate flags...
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"Legolas, hurry up!" a disgruntled Aragorn called, he turned around to spy the elf at the base of a hill located in the Pelanor fields, when a rebellious Gimili crashed into his back furiously,
"Just leave him, Aragorn, there's no hope for him anymore, we best save ourselves 'fore its to late!" the dwarf warned shooting a wary glance over his shoulder, then hurrying further up the hill in fear, the rugged traveller/ King of Gondor sighed in frustration, weary of having to travel with the pair of whinnying misfits, especial after what had happened...
Aragorn shuddered at the thought, sure enough, Legolas was a great fighter & an excellent Archer, who at time could be a little cocky, but what's to expect from the Prince of Mirkwood? It was in his blood to be a prick, that everyone accepted. But what the noble-blooded Elf turned into without his extensive array of hair and beauty products was too much for Aragorn to bare. It was like moving in with Arwen all over again, only much, much worse...
"Oh do shut up, You Filthy man! Can't you see I've just broken another nail!?! Get down here and help me at once!! " a very ear-bleeding shriek was directed at Aragorn. Rolling his eyes & sighing once more, Strider climbed back down the hill to help the irritated elf. Legolas was a mess; no longer was the well-preened elf's hair straight and clean, or carrying that freshly hair dried sheen. No, now it was mattered and tangled, twigs littering his normally flawless hair. Dirt & dried mud caked his split-ends, and its smell no longer of beautifully scented flowers & sweet cinnamon, but that of horse manure and man-sweat, His body reeked of sweat and his face was smudged with dirt, and something else not so pleasant..
If it were anyone else, Aragorn would be proud, maybe even slightly jealous of the fact that there was another living creature (apart from the Wargs) with worse personal hygiene than himself, but this was different, this was Legolas.
Grimacing Aragorn edged towards the wild creature known as the Mirkwood Prince, tentatively he pat the elf on the shoulder consolingly, in response Legolas burst into tears
"I can't take it anymore! I haven't bathed in weeks! I'm sweating, stinking haven't changed my clothes for a week, and have a profuse amount of stubble! I can't survive like this Aragorn, save me!" the elf cried dramatically, his 'I-haven't-got-a-problem-with-not-bathing-in-weeks-' companion was left standing shocked as his mentally unstable comrade thrust himself into Aragorn's arms wailing loudly between violent sobs.
"Uhh.. there there Legolas, were uhh, almost there" the unnerved nomad soothed, perplexed at why the hysterical man in his arms cared when his last bath was.
The sobbing ceased somewhat at these words, Legolas lifted his mascara-running-eyes to face Aragorn with hopeful glint in those gorgeous blue eyes
"Really? You mean I can get a manicure soon? I am way overdue, I mean just look at these nails, horrible!' he babbled glaring scrutinisingly at his torn fingernails & regaining his woman like manner. Strider eyed the elf uneasily, all instincts telling him to get as far away from the delusional elf as possible.
"Uh yeah... You only have to walk a few more days and when we get to Gondor, you can have all the bathes you want. Promise." he replied quickly in a strained voice, left eye twitching slightly.
"SQUEE!! The Elf cried in euphoria, he jumped out of Aragorn's arms and scaled the hill with the greatest grace & ease. The shell-shocked mortal was left to continue at a slower pace worried that he might need counselling for the rest of his life.
The End
