AN; I totally accept that my story sucks, so I am about to re- write it. Hope that won't get anyone mad! So, here it is! Elani, without cheesy flashbacks, half-sues, and overdone plots!
I am fuming. I swear, I want to march all the way over to wherever-the-heck Legolas is and beat him up (let's pretend for a second that I'm stronger than him). He promised that it was a simple excursion to Rivendell, just to see some friends.
I just found out now that it was a council of war!
No one ever tells me anything. I hate that.
It might have something to do with the fact that I have the maturity of a 12-year-old. And that I am a girl. And that I show ineptitude at every instrument of destruction I've come across (though I am good at acrobatics).
And that I'm technically a princess of Mirkwood (that's another thing I hate), and "Daddy's Little Girl. I'm not sure if I hate the last part.
And of course he has to join some stupid fellowship or something to go and destroy something, something there is a very small chance he would make it out alive!
Why couldn't my brother have taken up something less dangerous as a hobby, like knitting or baking? Yes, I know he wouldn't be caught dead doing any of those, but they're better than going on random quests or adventures that always end up with him nearly dying!
"Um, my lady?" said the unfortunate messenger who had to ride here to tell us this. "Are you quite alright?"
I realize that I had been saying that entire rant out loud. Oops. "Yes, I am fine, if a little shaken up. I am sorry you had to listen to a collection of my inner thoughts."
"I heard nothing, princess," he says, though with a wink.
"Thank you."
As he goes away, I feel another rant piling up in my about the stupidity of being called 'princess' and 'my lady'.
A girl a bit older than me comes and calls me to dinner. She's flawlessly beautiful, about 5 feet tall, and has golden hair, streaming down her back.
I am shorter than average and nothing fancy, unlike my older sister, and I have dirty blonde hair. It's down to my armpits, because of the time I got like and they had to cut it off. And my legs are hairy.
Hairy, short, not beautiful, previous lice. Maybe I was adopted, because I sound like I'm a dwarf.
"Thank you. I will be down shortly," I say, giving her my best 'regal' smile.
I go change into an outfit considered appropriate for a princess to wear, then go down to the dining hall. Everyone else has started eating. I start a little bit when I see my two other brothers, Nestarion and Bellconion, and my older sister, Vanya. They're thousands of years older than me and have already moved out to different parts of the kingdom. Even Legolas is two-thousand years older than me. Sometimes I wonder if I was meant to happen.
Father smiles and beckons me over. I sit down where I am supposed to and start eating silently. Normally, it's a lot louder at the table, with Legolas telling a funny story and making me laugh. Then I'd tell a not-so-funny one from my day, and Legolas would laugh anyways. That's not happening now, because my other siblings have been rolled in starch, and had their tongues clipped. They speak politely and sit up straight. They have fancy elvish names, not random syllables strung together like mine. I hate my name. I used to pretend I was an Egliriel, but not anymore.
I wish I could be with Legolas, on a quest to wherever the heck he's going. Wait, I could! "Father," I say primly. "Where is Legolas going on his quest?"
He brings a map out and traces the route for me. I realize there is one part where I could intercept him. Hmmm. Maybe I could save the world.
Who am I kidding? I don't know anything about weapons, and Legolas would get really mad. He'd probably send me straight back home.
Then I remember a theory I had; that you don't have to do anything you don't want to. He couldn't make me leave…
One other problem…
I had never been outside of Mirkwood. Heck, I had never been more than 25 miles away from the palace.
Oh, well. Remember my theory? It could also translate to; you can do anything if you want it enough.