Disclaimer: I do not own Middle-earth or any characters conjured up from the brilliant mind of J.R.R. Tolkien.
A/N: Just thought I'd imagine what it would be like when Legolas finally had a nervous break down. With all the new stories being generated about the Elven-prince (forming this very minute!) out there, seeking a therapist for his troubled mind was in due order. And, it sounded fun. Appearances from other LotR characters as well to make things a little more interesting. ;)
AND, I'm also sure it's been done before, but I haven't done the actual research to look through the massive files on it on FF.Net. This is my own creative interpretation. Simple as that. Offense NOT intended to any authors/stories, myself included. I also apologize in adavance if your 'favorite' character is not portrayed the way you'd like them to be. It's just a bit of fun so relax and take a deep breath! ^_~
My Head Hurts
Part I:
Let the Walking Begin
Legolas could hear the clashing of a staff against the wooden floor outside the hallway as he gazed outside the window watching the forest fill quickly with the pouring of snow from the sky above. The hrívë season had finally approached Eryn Lasgalen.
He turned his head at the opening door to see if it was the one who he was so patiently waiting for in the study. A long bearded fellow with a pointy hat popped his head inside and glanced around the room.
"Legolas?" he called out.
"Here I am," the prince sighed. Nope. He definitely wasn't the one he was waiting to see. His clothes were too filthy and he smelled funny. Funny like an old Man that's been doing Eru knows what in Middle-earth. Probably didn't know what a decent bath was if it bit him in the a -
"As you know, she is very old and cannot walk well, therefore you must go to her. Come, I will escort you," he motioned with his staff.
"Thank you, Gandalf," replied Legolas. I hope she smells better than he does.
The wizard led him down the corridor and soon enough they stopped in front of a door that read, 'Minno!'
"Ah, here we are," nodded Gandalf.
"So, this is where I shall have my session?" Legolas looked at the door curiously.
"Oh, no! This is only the first door, my boy," Gandalf shook his head. The prince gave him an 'are-you-kidding-me' stare.
"First door?!" he whined. "How many doors are there going to be, Mithrandir?"
Gandalf inwardly cringed at the name given to him by the Elves and started mumbling to himself about how the prince should know such things. He did live there after all.
"What was that, Mithrandir?" Legolas raised an eyebrow.
The wizard cringed again like he just heard freshly manicured nails scraping against a blackboard that was placed in a room that enhanced any sound in resonating tones. Being called by that name, he knew the prince meant business.
Was it his fault that he had to go to therapy because he couldn't cope with all the love-struck/happiness/heartaches/I-need-my-daddy/misery/lonliness/confused and etcetera, etcetera emotions he had to endure on FF.Net? No, he didn't think so.
Whuss...
"Oh, nothing. Just a few more doors, is all, no need to worry," he cleared his throat then silently continued to mutter incoherent words under his breath.
About a half an hour later, a few more doors turned into a dozen more doors with the same form of elvish writing, 'Minno!', carved dead in the center. Gandalf turned right, then right again, then left and then right again. He was utterly confused. When I find the architect who decided to get creative in building this place into a maze I'm going to -
"Gandalf! Are we there yet?! We have been walking around aimlessly for quite sometime now. You do know how to get there, don't you?" Legolas gave him an exasperated stare.
The stare. The staring was beginning to get under the Maia's skin like a bad itch that grew into an irritating red spot the longer you scratched at it. Whatever came out of his mouth was followed by a stare. 'Gandalf, I'm hungry.' Stare. 'Gandalf, my feet are becoming weary.' Stare. 'Gandalf, I need to use the loo.' Stare. Didn't his mother ever teach him that staring at others was impolite? He guessed not from the murderous twinkle in his blue orbs that became visible whenever he was either being threatened to shut up or ignored.
HA! Where's your prized bow and arrow now, huh?!
The wizard was seriously contemplating on poking the princes' eyes out. 'The Elf would do well to not cross the most powerful wizard in the Order,' he sulked. He might have looked like an old Man but he was more vigorous than he and held greater knowledge than any old Elven manuscript or song could ever possess. So there! And, Saruman, you say? Saruman who?!
Whuss...
"I believe we should have made a left in the last corridor. Or was it to go straight?" he asked himself aloud, pondering on where to direct their seemingly endless path.
Legolas rolled his eyes. He was becoming very impatient. The romantic stories that were constantly taking shape on the site were starting to make him go a bit mad. He almost plunged into the blade of Aragorn's sword when he was informed that most of the stories finally evolved into 'Legomance'. The whole, 'Oops, I've tripped on a broken tree branch but really aiming for the sword's blade' thing was purely accidental he said.
Aragorn, on the other hand, says otherwise.
He swore that the Elf had a blissful look on his face just before he sheathed Narsil back into its place to avoid the peril that the prince was about to encounter. The Ranger/Strider/Aragorn/Estel/Elessar/whatever-he-wants-to-be-called, also spoke of the ill tidings that came his way. Days after the incident he received nothing but numerous threats in the form of letters saying, 'peril-shmeril, let me die already!' and how he should learn to sleep with his eyes open for he may never be able to open them again once they are closed. 'I know where you live!' were also stated in print.
The prince denied these accusations, of course, but evidence showed that he had sealed the envelopes with his family symbol by mistake and tried scratching out his name in the letters with a fork. Unfortunately, Thranduil couldn't do much in restraining his son from the Ranger so he advised him to simply stay alert.
Really now, what was the Elvenking to do? He couldn't very well keep the prince caged up like some wild animal, could he? That was inhuman, although Elves were not Humans to begin with (hmm...). Let's not forget that the Fellowship and their constant interruptions of pit stops and extra companions clad in female-form would also be missing a vital member. We wouldn't want that to happen now, would we?
Besides, no one else among the eight wanted to learn his lines.
And, that's when Aragorn became a little unsettled. Deadly stares (again with the staring) arose from Legolas' eyes with an occasional 'tongue sticking out behind his back when he wasn't looking' tactic. Showing no fear to the supposed enemy, however, the Ranger kept his relaxed state of mind.
After all, he did learn a thing or two growing up in the Elven culture. He learned much of the Elven wisdom and how to enhance his hearing ability by listening to his surrounding environment. From his current situation he also finally learned how sleep with his eyes open...or at least fake it really well. Just in case...
Legolas shuddered at the relentless stories of falling Humans into his world and all the hysteria that came from the race. 'That was cool!', 'Like, oh my God!', 'You're such a hottie, my friends are so going to die!' were just some of the phrases that these creatures often used. A 'hottie'? Sounded like an insult if you asked him. And, why would anyone wish death upon their friend? Very odd. He was thankful that he didn't speak Human (such harsh tongues they have). What a strange language, indeed. Most of them, as well, seem to originate from a place called Earth (that's with no 'Front', 'Middle', or 'Back' in front of it).
But, some of the stories were fairly good, though, he had to admit. He especially liked the ones with adventure, and mystery, and blood, and killing, and maiming and...well, you get the idea. The Elf liked action. Not just that kind of action, mind you, but the kind where he faced hideous monsters other than the Orcs and Uruk-hais and the great spiders of Mirkwood. He laughed in the face of danger except when confronted with the worst kind of enemy. The enemy known to the inhabitants of Middle-earth to be the most hideous and dangerous of foes. The fangirls.
Having some of his old buddies from the Fellowship was always good company in these type of situations. It made things livelier!
The stories he couldn't bear were the ones that started off well in the beginning but then somewhere down the Writing Chapter in Progress Road, or WCPR, it mutated into something else all together, making absolutely no sense. It was like a fork in the road with two different destinations. One could either follow the path with a sign that says, 'This way for inspiration', or the other that says, 'Bed and Breakfast 5 more miles'. If you also cover the 'W' with one finger, you get CPR, and by Eru help him, because that's what he'll need if the most unfortunate route is taken. But, then again, we must take all things into consideration. Since Hobbits tend to loose sight of their objectives when food is mentioned (especially mushrooms), all Hobbit-authors are excluded from this road.
And, if he could mention it once, he'd mention it again. Archery skills, people, archery skills! He didn't practice the fine art of handling the weapon if he wasn't going to use it at least once in a story (with the exception of certain stories/genres, of course). At least mention the darn thing. That was his preciousss baby, his pride and joy. Mentioning his Elven blades were okay too...he guessed...but actually being able to put those bad boys into good use? Even better!
Luckily, Elven weaponry didn't rust.
Legolas thought about a good name he could call himself, like a new title other than the Prince of Mirkwood/Eryn Lasgalen/whatever-time-phrase-you-want-to-use to name that part of the forest. That Orlando Bloom fellow crossed his mind while thinking, and he found it puzzling how his features looked incredibly familiar. Past life perhaps? But his familiarity was beside the point it was what he said. He said, "He's an assassin."
Yes! Good name. I like that. No. Changed my mind. Silent Assassin? Yes! No. Sounds too plain. Changed my mind again. The Assassinator? Yes! Yes? Okay, yes! That sounds cooler!
Wait...cooler? That's a Human word. I didn't just say that, did I?!
Legolas ran down corridor screaming at the top of his lungs, passing by the wizard who almost got the wind knocked out of him from the sudden outburst that rang in his ears. Gandalf met the floor face first with a loud 'THUD' with his hat flying off his head and getting trampled on by the stampeding feet of the prince. He could hear him down the darkened path of outgoing candles that hung on the walls, frantically ranting something along the lines of being 'Human-ized'.
Oh my, here we go again. That's the hundredth time I've lost my hat.
End of Chapter
On to Part II!