Non-canon. Legolas is mean, prissy, sarcastic, irrational, and not too bright. After the War of the Ring, he reunites with some of his old cronies to stop a terrible evil from encroaching on Middle-earth. This is his story – and it's quite a shocker.

The Last War

Aranel; 2004, revamped 2008

A/N: Bwahahahahahaha… James, you're the only one who knows this story's previous incarnation (for the rest of your references, this story was previously serious). I had so much fun destroying it.

Chapter I—Evil Has Awakened

It was a horrible day in Middle-earth, one of the most horrible that Legolas had ever seen (Wow; that bad). What a pity that Gimli had to leave! he thought sarcastically. I should have liked it if he had stayed another month or so. Stupid, fat, greedy, loutish dwarf… Good riddance!

Legolas sighed in relief, looked up once more at the black sky, smiled, and left the balcony, heading back inside his father's palace (and maybe, just maybe, his palace someday if daddy-o kicked the bucket or abdicated). As he passed through the corridors, headed for his room, the servants bowed courteously, and the soldiers saluted him. Legolas nodded in acknowledgement. It made him feel slightly better when people groveled before him (doesn't it always?).

Legolas lay down on his bed and pondered his situation. I'm so sick of talking to myself. And I don't ever wanna see Gimli again. Hmmm… who else is left besides groveling servants and boring, biased parents? Aha! Aragorn. He's not too far away and he probably needs the company.

He thought about this much as he fell into a troubled sleep. Dreams he had – many dreams. First, he dreamed he was back with the Fellowship on their quest to destroy the Ring. Back in Lothlórien. He dreamed that he was Frodo and was looking in Galadriel's mirror and saw the Eye of Sauron. It glared at him menacingly and he squealed like a girl.

Next, he dreamed that Gimli was returning to Mirkwood for another six-month visit. "NOOOOOOO!!" Legolas screamed, jerking awake in a cold sweat. Ah, just a dream.

He went back to sleep and dreamed that he was in the Council of Elrond and he stood up to say something and looked down and he was in his underpants…

Legolas awoke the next morning, yawned, stretched and opened his eyes. There was a spider hovering inches from his nose. "Ahhhhhhh!!" Legolas squealed, swiping at it like a frightened penguin. After he had recovered, he thought a minute about the previous night's dreams. "Ah, probably just too much pizza before bed," he said dismissively. He dressed casually and went down to breakfast.

At the table, he spoke to his father, Thranduil, King of Mirkwood.

"Dad," said Legolas, trying to catch Thranduil between pages of the Mirkwood Daily. "I need to do something. I can't sit around for the rest of my life."

Celebwen, Legolas' mom, coughed. "You're dang right! Try doing the dishes once in a while!"

"My son," said the king, ignoring the queen's snide remark, "what is it you wish to do?"

"I wanna go on a road trip, Dad. Visit some old friends. Shoot some hoops with Aragorn maybe…."

"If you wish to do this," said Thranduil, "you have my consent."

Legolas rolled his eyes. As if! Not like he needed his daddy to hold his hand! He was only two and a half thousand years old… Still, he had to indulge his dad's illusion of control.

"My thanks," he said, "and I wish to travel alone in case you were about to suggest that I take a couple battalions of ninjas with me."

"I— uh," Thranduil sighed. That had clearly been exactly what he was about to suggest. "It's a dangerous world, son. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you… our son… our heir!"

Legolas gave his father a "thanks, but I don't sleep in a crib anymore" look.

"As you wish, my son," said Thranduil resignedly.

Legolas eagerly walked away from the table (more from a relief at escaping this nuthouse than joy about the impending journey). Going straight back up to his room, trying to ignore the groveling servants, he made a mental checklist. He decided not to take much, only what he needed: one change of clothes, his weapons, some food and water, and most importantly, his iPod.

He picked up his old bow; the one Galadriel had given him. He blew the dust off it and ran his fingers up and down the wood, admiring the intricate design. Yes, it had been long in disuse. Mostly because he had either been too busy ranting and raving about Gimli's obnoxiousness or playing those ridiculous Prince of Persia video games…. This reminded him. I hate that curséd Dahaka… Grrrrrr….He put the bow in the sheath on his back, next to his familiar quiver and white knives.

Lastly, he removed the silver crown from his head and placed it lovingly on the table beside his bed. Solid silver, he thought. I'd get mugged for sure….

He put on Stryper, tossed the iPod in his quiver, and stuck his earphones in his ears. Throwing on some traveling boots, he slid down the rope ladder from his balcony and was on his way. He preferred to leave unannounced. It avoided an otherwise certain mushy scene with his parents….

As Legolas entered the dense outer woods, he alternately hummed and sang along with the music. He even tried to scream the high notes along with Michael Sweet – let's just say it's a good thing Simon Cowell wasn't around. He was happier now, to be free, to have something to do, somewhere to go. Much more interesting than that stuffy palace anyway. And that stupid Dahaka. I killed the Empress of Time! Stupid, stupid Dahaka! And I even let it eat the other me when I was the Sandwraith… Garrrrr!

Past more trees than he could remember he walked (not like he'd want to remember them all anyway. Duh.). Most travelers would have been lost by then. But he was an elvish prince – tall, proud, and brave – and knew the forest of Mirkwood better than most anyone in Middle-earth knew themselves. At least, that's what he kept telling himself. He knew it was true… he hoped it was true… he wished it were true….

He was probably around five miles from home, though it was difficult to tell because he was already lost, when he realized that he had forgotten to pack a very important item: food. Dang it! I knew I'd forgotten something. I had it on my list and everything… Oh well; I'll make do. I'm an elf, after all. I'll live off the wilds.

So that's just what he tried to do. Key word: tried. Somehow all he'd learned in his high-school outdoor survival classes had eluded his memory. He kept looking up as if he expected food to drop on him from the sky or something. This proved to his benefit, however, since giant spiders kept dropping down on him, too. He had to kill around fifteen before they got a clue and left him alone. He never considered utilizing them for food. At last, he gave up in his search. He had put his iPod away some hours before; he was in too fell of a mood for music at that point. It had grown quite dark by then. Time to halt for the night. He selected a large, branchy oak, settled in the midst of a small clearing, for shelter.

Being somewhat out of shape since he hadn't really done much since accompanying the Fellowship on the quest to destroy the Ring, he had some difficulty in swinging himself from branch to branch in order to climb the tree. He kept whacking into other branches and falling on his rear; he was very glad that Gimli wasn't there to jeer at him. Finally, very battered and out of sorts, he made it into one of the higher tree-limbs and arranged himself for sleep, hanging his effects and weapons on nearby branches. He muttered darkly to himself. This "sleeping outdoors" was not all it was cracked up to be. He tried to allow sleep to offer itself. Predictably, it did not. It didn't even help to listen to Enya. It was very bad. If Enya, his customary last resort, wasn't working, something was very wrong. Aha! There it was. There was some evil lurking nearby, something his keen elven senses could detect. (Those Elves; they just always know, y'know?)

So Legolas silently crept down from the oak. When he got to the ground, he was about to employ his elvish stealthiness to explore the area silently when he remembered he had forgotten his weapons up in the tree. Oh well. I have a knife on my— Wait. No, I don't. Blast. Whoa, did I just use a British profanity?? That's astoundingly uncharacteristic of me.

He got a much bigger shock when he saw it. It scared him so badly he shrieked and started sprinting away at top speed. Unfortunately, he tripped over a root and did a face-plant. While lying on the ground panting and cursing at the stupid root that had gotten in his way, he heard a loud whoosh overhead as of some large hawk swooping down upon its prey. Turning over, he saw it again, and being terrified out of his wits, he rolled up in a fetal position and lay there trembling like a frightened rabbit. (Just wondering how long I can get away with referring to this terrible thing with an italicized "it.") It swooped back again over the trees, emitting a chilling, drawn-out screech that echoed through the darkness of the woods. Legolas began to sob like a baby. It swooped down over the small clearing again and then whooshed away. After three hours, Legolas finally had the guts to peel himself apart and go over what he had seen. He had seen it.

No more sleep for him tonight. That was just creepy. He quickly scrambled up the tree (he only fell twice this time) and gathered his things. Within a few minutes, he was on his way again. Not really that smart to be wandering around in the deep, dark, fairy-tale material-like forest, but he wasn't really calculating his danger except inasmuch as it concerned it. It was still out there somewhere. And it was going to get him if he didn't make himself scarce. As he stumbled along through the eerily silent darkness, seized with a terrible sense of dread, he suddenly saw about ten sets of cliché, red glowing eyes peering out at him from the gloom. Legolas froze in his tracks. And turned around and began sprinting in the opposite direction. He hadn't gone far when he had a thought. He stopped because he couldn't really think while running (he couldn't rub his stomach and pat his head at the same time, either). Oddly enough, whatever was obligatorily pursuing him stopped, too. They couldn't attack him till he had finished his thought. So Legolas sat down on a log and had his thought. Holy Eru! I'm being chased by red glowing eyes. Since when have I ever run from red glowing eyes?! Well, there was that time, but still…Legolas pulled out ten arrows and set them all on the string at once. "Okay, whatever you are, you can attack now."

Ten über-evil wolves with red glowing eyes immediately bounded out, howling and foaming at the mouth; I mean, these bad boys had four-inch fangs, fur on their spines sticking straight up, slobber drizzling from their snarling mouths, the works. They made the werewolves in New Moon look like friendly puppies. Legolas got them all in one shot. At least they were easier than it. Whatever it was. Not that he had tried attacking it.

Legolas felt suddenly exhausted so he collapsed on the grass and promptly began snoring uncharacteristically loudly for an elf. Next morning, he woke up and saw that all the wolves' bodies were gone. There his arrows lay, unsullied, on the ground where each wolf had fallen. Aha! Demonic wolves. I never would have guessed in a million years. Legolas gathered up all his arrows, turned on his iPod, and began humming away as he continued on his way to Minas Tirith. He had forgotten that he was now hopelessly lost.

To be continued...