Author's Note 1/22/2015:

As dearly much as I'd love to change this chapter, and the following three chapters, I will not.

I will not, rather than I can not. I can change this, of course, as I am doing so this very second. There are no limitations to what I can to do this story, though if I want to keep it up on this site, it will always be limited by the admins of it. I am the first to admit how badly written the first few chapters are, I would know, I wrote them. But you and I must believe that there is potential for my story, or else you wouldn't have clicked it, and I wouldn't have written it.

Previously titled "Everything Wrong With Your Favorite Elf Prince", this story is a rewrite of my (least) favorite self-authored story. Why was it my least? Because I had been told it had potential, and I chose to waste it. Perhaps I've recovered, perhaps I'm still as bad. Key things that I am well aware of and wish I had done a thing about it are language, method of transport, attitude/Sue-ness, character developement, staying in character, and straying from the timeline, among other things. If you are willing to overlook these things and read the following story, you might come to love my intentional Mary Sue more than you love the unintentional one.

I could always change this. But I will not. Because you and I both deserve a reminder of how both my character and I have changed.

Conjoiner rejoinder poisoner concealer revelator.

Now how do I start this story... well, problem solved, I guess. You're probably wondering who I am.

I'm your worst nightmare.

Oh fine. My name is Ruth, Ruth Windsnap. I'm that awkward, teenage, emotional-geek obsessed with the books 'Lord of the Rings' and 'Harry Potter'. I think I'd have rather been sent to Hogwarts, at least then I could try to avoid trouble.

But in Middle Earth? Trouble is what runs it.

So far I've been to Lothlórien, and then shipped off to Rivendell; now I'm stuck in, bear with me, Mirkwood, Mirkwood for crying out loud!

My father and I were camping one night in a forest, not too far off the East coast of the Atlantic Ocean...

"Father, did you remember to pack the spark rocks?" I asked.

"In the blue bag." He replied pitching the tent.

"Okay." I said, opening the bag. Something red was at the bottom. It was glowing.

"Dad" I asked scared.

"What is it?" He replied, not looking my way.

"What is this...?" I tried to ask, but my hand went through the bag.

"Who's there?" He asked turning around.

"It's me" I said "Ruth, your daughter..."

"I only have a son, and his name is Herman." He replied coldly to the air.

"Can't you see me?" I begged.

"No." He replied.

Everything after that was black, until I opened my eyes to see an orc leering over me. After some tree climbing and scouting (plus screaming and running) I made my way to Lothlorien.

You know what's funny. I despise elves. An even funnier thing is? I am around them twenty-four-seven.

See, there's Haldir who's a prick if I've ever seen one. And then there's Galadriel who creeps me out. Celeborn has odd habits... Elrond is way too serious with those eyebrows of doom, and his daughter Arwen, a freaking Mary Sue. I don't mind Elladan and Elrohir, but that's just prankster instincts. Thranduil is a moose and tree lover. Eek...

But then there's Legolas; popular, peppy, perfect Prince Legolas.

Of course, unlike formal meetings, me and him had a *cough* particularly awkward meeting...

I was just making my way back from some council tent thing where Elrond told me to stay until the council of Elrond. Whenever the hell that was. I thought a nice bath would suffice. Thranduil told me to use the rivers; he also assured me it was a very private place.

So I, innocently, went exactly where he told me to go, and who was in the river? Legolas freaking Thranduillion. Luckily, a rock covered his... hem... lower parts... but he was still strip naked in clear water with suds on his hair.

He turned a certain shade of red I have never actually seen before; and muttered, or as I say, stuttered "H-hello m'lady... w-what brings y-you here?"

"Well, I was going to bathe but... I see that it's full... I'll just be on my way now..." I replied.

Before I left however, I asked him what was in his hair.

He replied shampoo, shampoo! Since when has Middle Earth used shampoo; especially the elves- natural beauty, fairest of all beings, hello, any of this ringing a bell? Anyway he said it was Lori-elf brand shampoo. I left then.

Since that I've taken to ducking into empty corridors and avoiding His Majesty.