Disclaimer: I don't own any of the LOTR characters. If I did, I wouldn't be posting here. So there you go! If you see an elven name that's not from LOTR then I took one of my friends' names and stuck it in a name generator. Enough said.

A/N: OK. So I'm going to go ahead and get the first 3 chapters up here so you can see where I'm going with this. First thing I've ever posted, no be nice.  Please R&R, of course! Alrighty, so let's get started!

Chapter 1:

The sun streaming through the window kept getting brighter and brighter, but Legolas refused to open his eyes. He knew that he had to see the healer today, and he hated the healer. Well, OK, he didn't hate the healer, but he hated all that "touchy-feely" stuff about exploring your feelings and talking through your problems. Legolas felt that any problem that could not be solved with a bow and arrows, a sword, or maybe a nice bath simply need not be addressed. But his father disagreed. There had been certain distractions in Legolas' life lately that had been interfering with his royal duties, and his father was not having any more of it. Things had been so much simpler when they had that ring to worry about, but this was a New Age.

Legolas hoped that if he just hid in bed, maybe his father would forget. But before that hope could really take hold, there was a loud knocking at his door. Without giving Legolas time to say "come in", or "go away", as the case may be, Thranduil strode in and said, "My son! It is a lovely morning! What are you doing still in bed?" When that elicited no response from Legolas, his father's tone became a little less warm. "Now look here. You are not 200 years old anymore. I know that you do not enjoy visiting the healer, but this is a problem that must be solved. And no, you may not solve it with a sword! Or a bath!" When one has been a parent for several thousand years, one can see these things coming.

At this revelation, Legolas groaned and threw back the covers. Without a word, but with a very pointed glare, he got out of bed and began to ready himself. Thranduil took several large, purposeful strides towards the door and then stopped. Without turning around he sighed and said, "Legolas, this is not just about your life being consumed. It consumes mine, too. Never knowing where you will be, guests constantly in my halls, and on, and on! You will be glad when this is over, I promise you." After another short pause, he left Legolas' room and closed the door behind him.

As he walked quickly back to his own chambers, Thranduil couldn't help but wonder if he was being too harsh. After all, he could remember the foolish things that he did when he was only a few thousand years old. But this was a different Age and Legolas needed to handle his problems with more diplomacy and discretion.

Legolas stared at the door, glassy-eyed, for a few more seconds and then shook his head suddenly to clear it. Resigned to the fact that he would be visiting the healer, Legolas began to dress. Meanwhile, he muttered to himself, "Two hundred years old! I'll tell him who's acting like he is two hundred years old." As he looked in the mirror and braided his hair, Legolas wondered to himself why he had to be so good-looking. And a prince to boot! With unparalleled archery skills, immortality, heroic deeds to his credit, piercing blue eyes, great hair... He could go on and on forever. He was exactly the kind of elf that women all over Middle Earth dreamed of. And that was the problem.