This story is supposed to supply humor and large amounts of fluff. You have been warned. If you fear cavities then please, stay away. If you like violence there will be no blood shed (unless something changes). A big thank you to Silmarien for Beta reading this!

I do not own any of the original LOTR characters. They all belong to someone else. I do own Celede however!

Faeryn

Chapter one: Proposals and Turndowns

It had started with a marriage proposal.

I was only an Elfling, barely past thirteen years of age. He was only a handful of years older. I laughed in his face; he tried to kiss me. I had slapped him.

Prince or not.

If I closed my eyes, I could still see it. His mop of unruly honey colored locks, eyes pale enough to be blue, dark enough to be gray. It depended on his moods. If you really irritated him (lord help you) his eyes turned a pale, almost green color.

Have I mentioned it made him look really, really dangerous?

I still wonder how I managed to slap him. Of course, it could have been the fact that back then, he still had his topknot and was still using a training bow. And all the weapons his father allowed him to carry were wooden training swords.

Then, of course we both had the same weapons on, so if he attempted to cut some offending object (such as my ears) off, I could have at least attempted to block it.

It wasn't as if he was all romantic about it either. It was more like a direct order. Not the type of thing that would sweep a girl of her feet and fall romantically into his arms, and like I said, I was still an Elfling. I liked to play with boys, not marry them. They put a spider in my bed; I placed elf-eating bugs.

I did not marry them.

"Celede, when we are older, we are getting married and are going to have lots of kids." Prince Legolas informed me, his nose high enough in the air that I was afraid he would trip and break his royal neck.

Of course he had to say that in front of the girls behind me, the ones that fawned all over his still lanky and (in my humble opinion) skinny self. He was standing there; somehow angling his eyes over his nose, and gave me an all too familiar smirk.

It had been a last second change of plans to open my palm and slap him. I had wanted to break his nose but realized at the last second that it was the Prince.

Have you every tried flouncing in pants? It's not easy at all. First of all, you don't have the added bonus of the flare those skirts give you and your hair is normally up so it doesn't fan out either.

I think I did pretty well. Flouncing. NOT sulking. I flounced.

We avoided each other after that. Well okay, I avoided him and he discreetly followed me around. Okay, all right, I admit it! He stalked me with all the skill of a bumbling dwarf (I always told him they would get along well) and with the tactics of an orc.

So I went to visit relatives in Lorien. It was a short visit (only a few hundred years) and I got some great training from Haldir. He is a tad standoffish and all, but once you get past the seven foot walls surrounding him, he is rather nice.

But can you believe that I even met Galadriel? Her granddaughter Arwen was visiting and we become rather good friends. No matter what her brothers, or anyone else for that matter, try to say, I am the one who taught the pretty Princess how to throw a punch.

She was around my age, I had just turned two hundred something (yes I know...I had been dodging the Prince of Mirkwood for some time), and she was just a few years younger than I was.

Unfortunately, about that time my mother sent word that I was to come home. Something about needing to learn how to be a lady and stop cavorting about like a male elf.

I do not cavort.

But I must say I did get rather lucky. My brothers had gone with the royal hunting party (I did not ask if Legolas was there, I knew) and I was able to receive the training to be a Lady gracefully. Let's just say mother and I had slightly different opinions.

Okay so we were in two different streams, okay so there was nothing all at all that we agreed on. We were from two different mountains. She was in Valinor and I was in Gondor!

Does anyone else see where I am coming from?

My mother, Valar bless the woman, has a major hang up on my eyes. Yes, they are silver, and yes, they are an odd combination with my dark brown hair. But that is no reason to trim every dress I own with silver. Actually there is not reason for me to have the amount of dresses she forced me to wear...and stand still for. Fittings are so much fun. You get jabbed by needles and you look at colors all day.

I would prefer to torture myself by trying to improve my archery. I am not very talented with arrows. They go where I want them, but it takes time. Give me cold hard steel, and well, your going to be either singing soprano or visiting the halls of your father.

But back to my mother.

Unfortunately, I am the only daughter. May the Valar help me, but I am. Somehow my mother had two boys and then me. And she has always wanted a little girl to teach how to braid and cook and clean and mend.

Okay, so the braiding I can live with. I did have to learn how to braid in my own warrior braids. The mending I took with only a little fit throwing (I am told that an orc makes less noise) and I found I actually like the cooking. But I refuse to play house and dress up and chase after boys with a fluttering breath!

I did, however, manage to get the entire household on my side. Apparently my mother is not the only one who likes my eyes. So between all of us (that was two maids, a cook, and all the stable boys) we talked mother into letting me train again.

It was the most I could hope for.

She would never let me join the ranks of wood elves (I had always wanted to be a wood captain) but at least I got to practice.

Which, of course, was where I ran into him.

Now I will be the first to admit that he grew up. Okay I will be the LAST to admit it, but he did. And nicely too. That lanky frame had grown very tall. Did I once call him skinny? I lied. It is now VERY well endowed with muscle and a fine archer build. How do I know it's an archer's build? He has arrows strapped to his back.

Go captain obvious.

And then he smiled.

I turned down a marriage proposal why? Of course he chose that moment to smirk at me, and I remembered. Of course it was an open challenge for hostility so what else was I supposed to do?

Shoot him?

I did try. Unfortunately someone warned him, and he moved. Of course he glared, and I smiled innocently (with as many trainee's around, how could he blame me?), and he walked over.

If my mother could have heard my thoughts then, she would have washed my mouth out with soap. I had learned a few things from my brothers and Haldir over the years. Let's just say I am creative.

Very creative.

"Celede." Legolas said, his nose still stuck in the air. After taking a moment to debate about trying to shoot him again (at this range even I can't miss), I offer him a polite smile.

"Prince."

He, of course, offers a sexy half grin that shows off a dimple, but my legs don't go weak. Not at all, the fact that I am being stared down by the most eligible bachelor in the elven kingdoms does not even enter my mind.

But it does enter my mother's.

She chose that moment to come and see what I was up to with all my training. I knew it was her by the high pitched squeal. I, of course, blanch and mutter a few delightful things under my breath. (Hey I am just practicing my creativity) before plastering a beaming smile on my face. Okay so it was fake. A girl can only do so much.

And having a pestering elven lord stare you down (I had a bad feeling that my mother and the servants were not the only ones with a fascination with my eyes) and then a mother who I knew was thinking all the wrong things comes to a screeching -literally- halt next to your ear and grabbing the Princes well muscled arm.

And then she went on and on about completely boring subjects! Who cares if the Prince was home safe (I had hoped he would at least have been shot!) and wasn't it nice that it was near his birthday? Wasn't he going to have a wonderful ball? And wasn't I all grown up, and it went on and on. I think I tuned her out by concentrating on the hilt of the dagger I had in my boot.

After what seemed like hours (it really was) I excused myself. I had some footwork to work on, and couldn't they have this conversation without me? Okay so I was rude and left. Your problem?

Sometimes you just have to vent. I had never had anyone tell me my attitude was extremely bad (just that if I had been around during the reign of Melkor I would have scarred him) and had no problem with the way my life was.

But unfortunately, the vast number of future Princess did have a problem. There I was, working on a maneuver that Haldir and I had been experimenting on, and she showed up.

Apparently the delicate looking elf, with perfect ringlets and large blue eyes was supposed to scare me away from the Prince. First of all, he had proposed to whom? Not that I cared, and second of all, did she miss the fancy swordplay I had just completed?

Apparently the fact that I could use her as orc bait bothered her as little as her perfect curls bothered me. Apparently if I tried anything, the darling Prince, lover, husband to be, or whatever of hers was going to save her. Anyone else gagging? I was to stay away from her little princeling or else.

Sure. No problem. The only thing I want to know is who is going to keep the Prince from me? I also really want to know what about me is threatening? I wear pants as much as possible, I normally smell like leather and horse (I enjoy horse companionship...they don't attempt to hurl you into oncoming orcs...they try to get away from them) or if I have just had a bath, whatever the maid put into the water. My hair was long and dark, not blonde and radiant, and my eyes were silver. Okay so the silver eye thing is brownie points on my part. But whatever.

But the little...thing...left soon and I was left to my footwork. You know how some elves are obsessed with practice? They make me look like a dwarf looking for mithril. If you get in my way with my swordplay, my sword gets in the way of your breathing.

Aren't I an angel? The next Luthien I always thought.

So wasn't I lucky to have the King (lets put lots of emphasizing on that) the KING of Mirkwood decided to give me a few pointers. I was SO happy.

"Celede."

Of course I turn with a smart mouth comment that quickly gets shoved to my toes. Gulping (this was not sucking this was gulping) the air into my lungs I offered a hesitant smile. "My lord?"

Let me explain. It's okay to annoy the Prince. He can only get me banished (away from my mother) and Imladris is SO pretty this time of year. The King...well he can take away my right to bear weapons. See the problem here?

"Celede, I have heard some interesting rumors about you and my son lately." King Thranduil said. Is it my imagination or is he looking amused?

Me, I am terrified. I go about three shades lighter and the moon that night was probably going to be seen through me. If I could have shrunk into a hobbit then I would have.

"It really depends on what you have been hearing, My Lord." Oh Valar, I had mouthed off to the king. Maybe I could throw MYSELF to the orcs. Better yet, I hear the spiders are always looking for Elf to snack on.

"Something about a proposal?" He offered. Celede could only stare. He was asking about something that had happened a hundred years ago? "My son has always insisted he already asked the elf he wishes to marry and she has already given him her answer." He leveled her with a cool look.

Dead. I was dead. Once my mother found out..." Proposal?"

Maybe if I acted like a fumbling dwarf. What am I saying? I always act like one! I wonder if they would make an exception and just behead me?

Maybe I am seeing things but I swear his lips just twitched. "Yes. And the fact that you have turned him down."

Is slapping turning someone down?

"My Lord, I doubt something said in jest at such a...tender age can be considered a proposal. I...suppose you may consider my reaction a turn down." If you want to get technical I really never SAID anything. But actions do speak louder than words.

This time he did smile. The KING was SMILING at ME! Maybe I have gone from dwarf to hobbit! Yes I am rising in the ranks! "Oh so you have not turned him down?"

I just got creative mentally again.

To tell anyone's father that you turned his son down...especially when they are as powerful and over protective as the King is you enter the orc zone. I am the next Luthien. I am going to DIE. "No. I turned him down." There I had said it. Kill me now.

"Good." Yes my mouth is touching the ground and my eyes are bugging out. I look as elvish as a hobbit. It's my curse to be caught with wonderful facial features in front of elves that could turn me into a hopping spider.

"Don't be easy on him." He winked at me. The king of Mirkwood just winked at me. "Make him work."

And with a very well placed flounce (do Kings flounce? Okay strut...) the King left my line of sight.

Maybe it was time to go back to Lorien. Or maybe Imladris, Mirkwood was bad for my health. Very bad.

~*~

I was debating the idea of building my own gray ship and sailing away to the shores of Valinor myself. How hard could it be? All I need are some planks and boom...I am SO gone. I don't even need a ship...I'll go on a raft!

Imagine me being creative mentally again.

Remember that ball...the one that I attempted to block out? The one that my mother mentioned and went on and on about? Well apparently the Prince decided to get even with me for trying to kill him (he still can't prove it) and told my mother he would he honored to escort me.

Which is why I am sneaking out the back window dressed up like they are going to marry me off. Don't ask how I got out of the window in the dress my mother had chosen (pale blue lined with silver and enough skirts to choke anyone in) and why I am walking through the woods.

I feel okay. I fell out of the (creative moment) window. Luckily I caught myself...this time I am telling the truth. Not a single skirt is out of place, my hair still has the (creative moment) diamond and mithril combs of my mother's and I still have the boots I insisted on wearing. The dagger is still in one of those boots, and if I didn't have pointy ears, I would look like a (creative moment) water sprite thing the mortals made up.

Am I not lucky?

Here spidy spidy. Come and EAT ME!

Sighing, it's the only thing irritated maidens in a temper can do, I begin to practice my creative talent. Quietly, of course. Actually Galadriel can probably here me with no extra abilities. Who needs a ring of power when you have a cursing elf maiden?

That's when I hear the laughter. Turning around I can only place my hands on my hips and glower. Okay I creatively use a few words to the prince, but who is telling?

Not me!

"Celede, your mouth is one of the reasons that I love you."

Did the Prince just use the word LOVE and my NAME in the same sentence, with out using the words torture, maim, destroy, or a few other words? Turning towards Mordor I noticed that no, there was no red light to show that Mount Doom had irrupted.

"Your Highness, you're flattering me." Did you catch the sarcasm? I think he did by the laughter.

"Of course I can imagine your mouth is good for other things as well."

I, of course, turned ten shades of red. Tomato time. But of course how could I let him get away with something like that? Any polite maiden would simper and giggle. " Do you want me to break your nose to go with that bruised ego I gave you?"

Prince Legolas just smiles pleasantly, a rather wicked gleam in his eyes. He looks like he wants to skip the meal plan and just eat me. Distraction.... distraction....

"Celede you look lovely tonight."

"You look pretty." If I could have slammed my foot down my throat I would have. I had just called this ravishing male, who was anything BUT feminine, pretty. His face mirrored my emotions.

"Don't you think you should be heading toward your party soon? You are the guest of honor?" Please let him buy that, please! If he was the guest of honor, okay so it was his birthday, then Mirkwood had lowered her standards!

"But the guest of Honor needs his date!" He replied easily before moving closer.

"Another step and I will use the dagger I have hidden on my persona and remove something not fixable!"

His lips twitched. I, of course, groaned out loud realizing what I had just said. How embarrassing. "No need to be quite so hostile. If you did not want to go with me then why did you not say so?"

What to tell him....

"Do you think I actually had a choice?" Have I mentioned how much I love my eyes? No? Well they do this great little glare and then my eyebrow raises and I look impressive. I even made Haldir double check once!

Legolas, for his part, looked crestfallen.

Pause for creative imagery.

"Look, Prince, it's not just that it is you." Well yes it is but no need to hurt him THAT badly. Hey I may rival Melkor for needing an attitude adjustment but I do occasionally spare peoples feelings. Especially when they look that good. "It's the whole chase me around like a fumbling dwarf with the tactics of an orc with the romantic abilities of a hobbit who just got served a nine course meal...that is more than likely the problem."

Did I just say I spare people's feelings? Please pass the ketchup for my foot!

Oh no, his eyes just went that almost green color. I had a royally pissed elf royal on my hands. Um...problem?

"Fumbling dwarf? Orc Tactics? Romantic abilities of a hobbit?" His voice was still calm. Red light, it's a freaking volcano of light here.

"Um.... yes?"

And then he smirks. It was a rather scary smirk. But did wonderful things to his cheekbones. Forget his cheekbones, his eyes were almost emerald he was so angry.

Well when he grabbed my arm I think I forgot about the dagger in my boot. He just started walking toward the palace. You know some people get butterflies in their stomachs? I had them, except mine were playing 'lets kill the orc' so mass amounts of fluttering.

"What are you doing? Or better yet, where are we going?"

"To the palace." He leaned down till his breath brushed my ear. "To prove you wrong."

I had a very bad feeling. Very, very bad.