Disclaimer: I don't own LOTR. If I did, I don't think that Peter Jackson
would have gone out of his way to make a movie about it.
***
Chapter Five: In Which Legolas Escapes To Rivendell And Is Followed by Jeannette
Legolas was up late that night, frantically plotting how to escape Jeannette. Unfortunately for him, thinking led to frowning and frowning led to wrinkles, or so he had heard from his cousin Mírélen, who was also his makeup artist. So he stopped. Anyways, it was giving him a headache. He fell asleep, trying not to dream. Because that gives you wrinkles, too. (A/N: Legolas is going to wrinkle prematurely. I'm sorry.)
***
Jeannette is there every day. Always on his lap, or braiding his perfect hair into cornrows, or some other unthinkable desecration of the world's prettiest Elf. One day, before Jeannette wakes up, he makes Alder saddle his horse and rides off in the direction of Rivendell. and Arwen.
He arrives in Rivendell breathless and slightly mussed, and almost falls off his horse. "Take it," he says, panting, trying to breathe, and collapses.
When he awakens, Arwen is sitting on his bed, stroking his hair. "I'm sorry you had to flee Mirkwood like the fugitive in the night," she says softly, leaning forward.
Legolas's eyes widen. Will Arwen actually kiss him? "She chased me out,"
Arwen frowns. "She? Who is this saucy wench?"
"Jeannette! A. A. Mary-Sue, I think," he gasps. "She wants to marry me!" He begins to cry, and Arwen draws back, not wanting to get her favorite pink dress dirty and wet from tears.
"Mary-Sue?" Arwen cries. "You cannot stay! My father is hosting one of his parties, and four cute little hobbits are invited."
"Hobbits?" Legolas asks, puzzled. "Doesn't the Hobbit give you hallucinations?"
"No," Arwen replies, equally as puzzled. "Hobbits are little people. From the Shire."
"What are their names?" Legolas asks, in a manner he thinks is sly and discreet. Arwen looks at him in a funny way.
"They are Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Peregrin Took, and Meriadoc Brandybuck." She sighed wistfully. "Aragorn will be arriving with them, too. I hope his hair is washed."
A new voice speaks. "Oh my God! Frodo is coming?" Jeannette, who has somehow entered the room without either of the Elves noticing, squeals. "And Aragorn? Oooooo! This has to be, like, a super fun party, cause all the hotties of the Fellowship are coming."
"NOOOOOOO!" Legolas screams and-
sat upright in his bed. "She's not here," he whispered. "Not here."
But in his dream he had come across the perfect idea: to go to Rivendell.
Legolas was saved. He got up from his bed, put on a snazzy skirt-and- boots ensemble, hopped on his gentle, old, swaybacked grey mare, and rode away to Rivendell.
Legolas heard the waterfalls before he actually saw them. By the Valar, were they loud! He patted his hair, worried that the mist from the waterfalls would make the gel come out. Then he remembered that it was waterproof. Looking up nervously at the sun, he dug through his packs to find his Oil of Olay Daily Moisturizing Lotion SPF 30 and rubbed some on to protect his wonderful complexion.
As the mare reached the narrow path that led into the valley and slowly picked its way down to Rivendell, Legolas held on for dear life. Lúthien was in the Halls of Mandos, and even he could not compete with her. Anyways, he was afraid of heights. And the dark. And spiders. And. To tell the truth, he was worse than a little Elfling girl not even fifty years old. But Arwen didn't need to know that, did she? Legolas grinned, and almost fell off the mare. He'd better stop thinking and concentrate on staying on his horse. But... Legolas grimaced. He had forgotten: concentrating gave you wrinkles, too. Mírélen was in Rivendell visiting Arwen. If riding the horse gave him wrinkles, she could help.
He sighed. Forget the wrinkles, he thought. Try and stay on Mír!
***
Much to Legolas's joy, Arwen greeted him at the gates. "Daddy told me you were coming," she said. "My grandmother sent an omen last night."
The words just flew past Legolas. Arwen was talking to him! He smiled, and fell off the horse. He turned bright red.
"That's all right," Arwen said, walking towards the Last Homely House. "Aragorn does that too, when he looks at me." At the mention of Stubbles, as Legolas called him, her eyes grew misty and faraway.
"What's so great about Stubbles?" Legolas asked rudely, annoyed that she wasn't paying attention to him. "He's only the Heir of Isildur."
"Future King of Gondor," Arwen reminded him, snapped out of her reverie by Legolas's comment. "And you're only the Prince of Mirkwood."
Damn Stubbles! Legolas thought furiously. If only he wasn't going to be a King someday! And of a damn large country, too! Out loud, he said, "You sure have your standards set high, Arwen."
"Yes, I do," she snapped. "Now, go away, and do whatever you came here to do. I expect Thranduil sent you for that stupid Council daddy called. Can you believe he's naming it after himself? How self-centered. And he won't even let me go!" Arwen pouted, which was what she did best, and Legolas's mouth went dry.
He swallowed, and composed himself. "Suppose I got you into the meeting," he said, trying to sound long-suffering, yet generous and kind. The result was exasperation. "Do you think that would qualify as better than Stubbles?"
"Who is Stubbles?" Arwen asked. When Legolas frowned (A/N: I'm very sorry, but) -That will give him wrinkles, Arwen thought- she said, "Oh. You mean Aragorn."
"Would that make me better?" he demanded again, stopping in the hallway they had reached as they walked.
"You're always better than Viggo, Legsy," said an all-too familiar voice. Legolas turned around slowly, and, to his dismay, there stood Jeannette, now clad in the garb of an Elven maiden. Arwen stared at her. Legolas could have sworn that her eyes turned green at the sight of the other woman.
"Who is this, Legolas?" she hissed, glaring at Jeannette.
"I'm Jeannette Rivera," Jeannette replied, when Legolas didn't. She held out her hand and smiled good-naturedly.
Arwen stared at Jeannette's hand as if it were poison. "Why are you here? Where are you from?"
"I don't know why I'm here," Jeannette said, still trying to be friendly. "I followed Legsy. He didn't even say good-bye. He needs a spanking." She smiled at Legolas, and his knees began to shake.
"Why did you follow me?" he asked despairingly, knees collapsing from under him. Jeannette crouched beside him.
"What's wrong, Legsy?" she asked, sounding genuinely curious. "Are you feeling all right?"
"All right?" Legolas gasped. "I rode day in and day out to reach here, get yelled at by Arwen before I'm even sitting down, and then you follow me here!" He hung his head. "I'm screwed," he yelled. "I am seriously screwed!"
"Hey," Jeannette said, narrowed eyes glinting dangerously. "I followed you all the way from Mirkwood, and here you are yelling at me? All the thanks I get," she added huffily, pouting in a way that brought her close to Arwen's sulky beauty. "You're not even supposed to talk like that." She sniffed indignantly.
Meanwhile, Arwen was staring at her in something close to an insane rage. "You dare think to impose yourself on an Elven-prince?" she yelled. "You are nothing but a mortal woman, the daughter of weak, corruptible Men!"
"Don't you think that's exaggerating a little?" Jeannette demanded, approaching on Arwen. "I'm from Costa Mesa, you idiot."
"What?" Arwen asked, confused, and then shook her head. "You are trying to take Legolas away with your sorcery and lies."
Jeannette shrugged, but Legolas could (or was it his imagination?) a dangerous plan forming behind her bright black eyes. "Whatever."
***
Chapter Five: In Which Legolas Escapes To Rivendell And Is Followed by Jeannette
Legolas was up late that night, frantically plotting how to escape Jeannette. Unfortunately for him, thinking led to frowning and frowning led to wrinkles, or so he had heard from his cousin Mírélen, who was also his makeup artist. So he stopped. Anyways, it was giving him a headache. He fell asleep, trying not to dream. Because that gives you wrinkles, too. (A/N: Legolas is going to wrinkle prematurely. I'm sorry.)
***
Jeannette is there every day. Always on his lap, or braiding his perfect hair into cornrows, or some other unthinkable desecration of the world's prettiest Elf. One day, before Jeannette wakes up, he makes Alder saddle his horse and rides off in the direction of Rivendell. and Arwen.
He arrives in Rivendell breathless and slightly mussed, and almost falls off his horse. "Take it," he says, panting, trying to breathe, and collapses.
When he awakens, Arwen is sitting on his bed, stroking his hair. "I'm sorry you had to flee Mirkwood like the fugitive in the night," she says softly, leaning forward.
Legolas's eyes widen. Will Arwen actually kiss him? "She chased me out,"
Arwen frowns. "She? Who is this saucy wench?"
"Jeannette! A. A. Mary-Sue, I think," he gasps. "She wants to marry me!" He begins to cry, and Arwen draws back, not wanting to get her favorite pink dress dirty and wet from tears.
"Mary-Sue?" Arwen cries. "You cannot stay! My father is hosting one of his parties, and four cute little hobbits are invited."
"Hobbits?" Legolas asks, puzzled. "Doesn't the Hobbit give you hallucinations?"
"No," Arwen replies, equally as puzzled. "Hobbits are little people. From the Shire."
"What are their names?" Legolas asks, in a manner he thinks is sly and discreet. Arwen looks at him in a funny way.
"They are Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Peregrin Took, and Meriadoc Brandybuck." She sighed wistfully. "Aragorn will be arriving with them, too. I hope his hair is washed."
A new voice speaks. "Oh my God! Frodo is coming?" Jeannette, who has somehow entered the room without either of the Elves noticing, squeals. "And Aragorn? Oooooo! This has to be, like, a super fun party, cause all the hotties of the Fellowship are coming."
"NOOOOOOO!" Legolas screams and-
sat upright in his bed. "She's not here," he whispered. "Not here."
But in his dream he had come across the perfect idea: to go to Rivendell.
Legolas was saved. He got up from his bed, put on a snazzy skirt-and- boots ensemble, hopped on his gentle, old, swaybacked grey mare, and rode away to Rivendell.
Legolas heard the waterfalls before he actually saw them. By the Valar, were they loud! He patted his hair, worried that the mist from the waterfalls would make the gel come out. Then he remembered that it was waterproof. Looking up nervously at the sun, he dug through his packs to find his Oil of Olay Daily Moisturizing Lotion SPF 30 and rubbed some on to protect his wonderful complexion.
As the mare reached the narrow path that led into the valley and slowly picked its way down to Rivendell, Legolas held on for dear life. Lúthien was in the Halls of Mandos, and even he could not compete with her. Anyways, he was afraid of heights. And the dark. And spiders. And. To tell the truth, he was worse than a little Elfling girl not even fifty years old. But Arwen didn't need to know that, did she? Legolas grinned, and almost fell off the mare. He'd better stop thinking and concentrate on staying on his horse. But... Legolas grimaced. He had forgotten: concentrating gave you wrinkles, too. Mírélen was in Rivendell visiting Arwen. If riding the horse gave him wrinkles, she could help.
He sighed. Forget the wrinkles, he thought. Try and stay on Mír!
***
Much to Legolas's joy, Arwen greeted him at the gates. "Daddy told me you were coming," she said. "My grandmother sent an omen last night."
The words just flew past Legolas. Arwen was talking to him! He smiled, and fell off the horse. He turned bright red.
"That's all right," Arwen said, walking towards the Last Homely House. "Aragorn does that too, when he looks at me." At the mention of Stubbles, as Legolas called him, her eyes grew misty and faraway.
"What's so great about Stubbles?" Legolas asked rudely, annoyed that she wasn't paying attention to him. "He's only the Heir of Isildur."
"Future King of Gondor," Arwen reminded him, snapped out of her reverie by Legolas's comment. "And you're only the Prince of Mirkwood."
Damn Stubbles! Legolas thought furiously. If only he wasn't going to be a King someday! And of a damn large country, too! Out loud, he said, "You sure have your standards set high, Arwen."
"Yes, I do," she snapped. "Now, go away, and do whatever you came here to do. I expect Thranduil sent you for that stupid Council daddy called. Can you believe he's naming it after himself? How self-centered. And he won't even let me go!" Arwen pouted, which was what she did best, and Legolas's mouth went dry.
He swallowed, and composed himself. "Suppose I got you into the meeting," he said, trying to sound long-suffering, yet generous and kind. The result was exasperation. "Do you think that would qualify as better than Stubbles?"
"Who is Stubbles?" Arwen asked. When Legolas frowned (A/N: I'm very sorry, but) -That will give him wrinkles, Arwen thought- she said, "Oh. You mean Aragorn."
"Would that make me better?" he demanded again, stopping in the hallway they had reached as they walked.
"You're always better than Viggo, Legsy," said an all-too familiar voice. Legolas turned around slowly, and, to his dismay, there stood Jeannette, now clad in the garb of an Elven maiden. Arwen stared at her. Legolas could have sworn that her eyes turned green at the sight of the other woman.
"Who is this, Legolas?" she hissed, glaring at Jeannette.
"I'm Jeannette Rivera," Jeannette replied, when Legolas didn't. She held out her hand and smiled good-naturedly.
Arwen stared at Jeannette's hand as if it were poison. "Why are you here? Where are you from?"
"I don't know why I'm here," Jeannette said, still trying to be friendly. "I followed Legsy. He didn't even say good-bye. He needs a spanking." She smiled at Legolas, and his knees began to shake.
"Why did you follow me?" he asked despairingly, knees collapsing from under him. Jeannette crouched beside him.
"What's wrong, Legsy?" she asked, sounding genuinely curious. "Are you feeling all right?"
"All right?" Legolas gasped. "I rode day in and day out to reach here, get yelled at by Arwen before I'm even sitting down, and then you follow me here!" He hung his head. "I'm screwed," he yelled. "I am seriously screwed!"
"Hey," Jeannette said, narrowed eyes glinting dangerously. "I followed you all the way from Mirkwood, and here you are yelling at me? All the thanks I get," she added huffily, pouting in a way that brought her close to Arwen's sulky beauty. "You're not even supposed to talk like that." She sniffed indignantly.
Meanwhile, Arwen was staring at her in something close to an insane rage. "You dare think to impose yourself on an Elven-prince?" she yelled. "You are nothing but a mortal woman, the daughter of weak, corruptible Men!"
"Don't you think that's exaggerating a little?" Jeannette demanded, approaching on Arwen. "I'm from Costa Mesa, you idiot."
"What?" Arwen asked, confused, and then shook her head. "You are trying to take Legolas away with your sorcery and lies."
Jeannette shrugged, but Legolas could (or was it his imagination?) a dangerous plan forming behind her bright black eyes. "Whatever."