Disclaimer: All things Lord of the Rings belong to mighty Tolkein. I'm only borrowing them for a little while and promise to return them with minimal psychological damage.
Author's Notes: I LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!!!!!! Well, I'm back at school and the insanity has started again. A lot of reviewers asked me to write a sequel to "An Elf Lord Has Needs", but I decided to do something much better; a spin-off. That's right, stories inspired by "Elf Lord". I figured if I was going to torment Celeborn, Galadriel, and Haldir, then I didn't want the other elves to feel left out. *Pauses to avoid several arrows aimed for the head* I will give fair warning to all of my readers. I have nothing against any of the elves that I'm about to make fun of. On the contrary, I love them. That is why I ask that people obsessed with certain elves NOT get pissed at me for what I write. All of this is just for laughs and shouldn't be taken seriously. Flames will be used to burn my Organic Chemistry book.
Prologue
If you ask any member of the race of Men, Dwarves, or Hobbits about the nature of elves, it is a guarantee that they will mention perfection. To other races, immortality automatically means that imperfections are destroyed over time. To them, elves are completely aware of all that is around them and to be caught off guard is unheard of. They believe that elves are nothing short of perfection.
They have no idea how wrong they are.
I was once like the other races, and indeed like many elves, in believing that elves are meant to be perfect. I tirelessly worked on bringing all of my abilities beyond their natural limitations so that I would be the perfect warrior. I studied endlessly since my childhood so that I would be the perfect scholar. I spent countless hours within my father's court so that I would be the perfect prince. All my life, I only knew perfection.
And then I joined the Fellowship of the Ring.
My perfect world was shattered as I was thrown into a group that knew nothing but imperfection. The hobbits preferred to sit and eat, rather than improve their meager fighting skills. Boromir's mind was more focused on the ring than the task at hand. Aragorn refused to accept his destiny as the true king of Gondor. Gandalf always allowed the hobbits to be the deciding factor in any major debate. I am still surprised that most of us survived that journey with the Halflings making the decisions. And then there was Gimli. Well, I suppose I shall have to give the dwarf some credit. He knew who he was and what his place was in the world. He also strove to be the best warrior he could be. Now that I think about it. It was a good thing that he and I became friends. If we had not, we would not have anyone to talk to when the stupidity of our company became overwhelming.
I have never questioned my perfection before. I always thought that I could accomplish anything. Then Gandalf led us into Moria and got himself killed by a Balrog. That was the first time that I felt anything less than perfect. Our leader had died because I had done nothing. The guilt that I felt was overwhelming. Of course, if I had known that he would come back more powerful than ever, I would not have bothered feeling guilty. But no, he just had to make me feel like a failure. Thank you very much Gandalf. Because of your little stunt I was pacing circles and ranting about my imperfection throughout our entire stay in Lórien.
That was how Galadriel found me that fateful day. She was so fed up with my ranting about how elves are supposed to be perfect that she invited me to gaze into her mirror. It is a rare gift to see what the mirror has to show, so naturally I accepted. Unfortunately, I had no idea that she did not want me to simply "gaze" into the mirror. No, she failed to mention that I was to be chained to the mirror and forced to watch the most respectable elves in history going through times of pure stupidity. From Gil-Galad to Elrond and his family to the Galadrim of Lothlórien to even my father; I was forced to watch them all act like complete imbeciles in their pasts. For two days I watched in complete horror at how elves were not as perfect as they seem. How my kind has lasted this long is truly a miracle. It still amazes me to this day that I did not go completely insane after what I witnessed.
Now I believe that it is time to show the world how the race of elves is anything but perfect. What follows is an account of each elf that I witnessed in Galadriel's mirror and their highest points of embarrassing imperfection. With most of my kind leaving for Valinor, I am sure that none of them would mind. Even if the world laughs at their tales, the elves will know nothing of it across the sea. And so I begin my story…
Legolas Greenleaf
(Son of Thranduil, Prince of Mirkwood, Elf Lord of Ithilien, Archery Champion, Member of the Fellowship of the Ring, Advisor to King Elessar, Best Friend to Gimli; Lord of the Glittering Caves, Voted Most Handsome Elf in Middle Earth 368 years running, and Individual Most Determined to Gain More Names and Titles than Aragorn)
A/N: Who will the first story be about? None other than our favorite reborn Noldor.