Disclaimer: I do not own the works of J R R Tolkien. I am not profiting from writing this. I am intending no offense from the posting of this piece. I am not at all associated in any manner with any of the people or companies affiliated with J R R Tolkien and his work, or the movie based on his work. This story has nothing to do with the actors the portrayed J R R Tolkien's characters.

Author's Note: I promise it's not a Mary Sue!

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She was nervous as only a young bride can be. After a lifetime of anticipation and training for this moment, of hearing tails of the life she would lead as part of the royal family, she was finally to meet the one to whom she had been betrothed at birth. Today would be the first day that she would finally lay eyes upon him, her fiancee, the hero of hundreds of stories she had heard around campfires: Prince Legolas of Mirkwood. It was understandable that Kristiana was somewhat anxious.

Kristiana was a noblewoman of the aristocracy of Imladris. She was beautiful, like her mother, and there had been great arguments at her birth as to where she would make her marriage when she reached her majority. Elves from far and wide came to Imladris for what turned into a small civil war. Finally King Thranduil journeyed to her parents baring extravagant gifts, and bringing the promise of life as a princess of Mirkwood, with riches untold and a life of luxury with his young son Legolas. Impressed by this, Kristiana's parents had quickly agreed, and from thereon Kristiana had been sent to finishing schools so that she could learn the bearing and manners of a true princess.

By the time she reached her majority, she was a perfect example of womanhood.

Kristiana had a shining river of deep chocolate hair that flowed down her back, thicker than the heaviest weave of Elvish cloaks. Her skin was translucent and flawless, and it shimmered in the fey moonlight that shone that night upon her wedding, as the bridal party waited. With eyes a stormy gray like the most tempest of oceans, wide-set and darting form her mother to her bridesmaids tensely, Kristiana was waiting impatiently. A small, furry kitten strolled up to her, bumped its head against her delicate ankle and mewed at her in comfort. Kristiana smiled as she leaned down to fondle its tiny ears; she loved small animals and children, and they loved her back, because she had a beautiful and kind nature, and the most consummate manners.

At last, there was a knock at the door of Kristiana's bedroom, and all eyes were upon the young pageboy making the call.

"They're ready for you, Kristiana," he said, taking in her paramount beauty with an appreciative smile.

Kristiana got to her feet and allowed her bridesmaids to attend the train of the fantastic dress she wore. The finest cream satin and the most intricate of lace was sewn together into a dress that rivaled the bridal gear of even princess Arwen; the dress had taken two years for the most skilled tailors to create. It fitted Kristiana perfectly, outlining her full bosom, thin waist and long, elegant legs. She felt a flutter in her stomach, but determinedly kept her ground. Feeling like a sacrificial virgin, but knowing where her duty to her parents and home laid, she steeled herself and marched solemnly out of her bedroom, through the winding halls of her house, and out into the moonlit garden that held the wedding guests.

Kristiana kissed her mother, hugged her brother and turned to face her destiny. The wedding march started, and her father gently took her arm.

"I'm proud of you today, my beautiful girl," he said kindly, an indulgent smile upon his lips, "You will make a good match for Prince Legolas. You are every inch a princess."

Kristiana allowed herself to be lead down the long, long aisle, past hundreds of wedding guests who murmured appreciatively at her beauty. She held her head majestically, chin high, eyes glued to the tall, blond elf standing at the altar, his back turned to her.

When she was nearly at the end of the aisle, after parading past hundreds of smiling faces, the elf at last turned to face her. Kristiana could not help the small gasp of wonderment that escaped her rose-petal lips; he was perfect. He was beautiful, from his cornflower eyes to his mane of flaxen satin. His face was chiseled and gorgeous, and he afforded her a most benign smile. Kristiana knew she had lost her heart right away.

She stopped beside him, unable to take her eyes away from his lovely face. Every guest at the wedding was looking on at them, silent, watchful. Not a sound could be heard, as they gazed into each other's eyes.

Of a sudden, Legolas stepped back, bent one of her legs, cocked it to the side and screwed up his face as though exerting some great effort. In the blissful silence of that wedding night, Prince Legolas of Mirkwood farted resoundingly. It was long, loud and impressive. It echoed through the garden, scaring some birds from a nearby tree.

"Better out than in," acknowledged Legolas.

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Author's Note: Oh shitballs. May toilet humour never die! I hope you weren't reading this in the hopes of a nice heterosexual romance. Shame on you, if you were. Don't you know Legolas is as gay as the Spring Parade?