It's Not Easy Being Pretty

By Princess Consuella Bananahammock

Disclaimer: Despite my numerous attempts to steal them, none of the characters mentioned are mine. They were forged in the fires of Mount Doom by the Dark Lord Tolkien . . . oh, wait, wrong story . . . but Aragorn is ever so preciousssss . . .

A/N: Of course I've read the books. Eleventy-one times, to be exact.

Chapter One: Escape from the Dark Riders

Legolas urged the horse onward, digging his heels sharply into the stallion's flanks. His breath was short and quick, and he rode for Minas Tirith with a vengeance.

It was all Gimli could do to hold on. He bounced about haplessly, clinging with all his strength to the elf's back. "Slooooooow doooooooown!"

Legolas only rode faster. It was a matter of seconds, they were gaining fast . . . if only there wasn't a heavy dwarf on his back . . .

The sharp echoes of hoofbeats grew more and more ominous, until the roar of their pursuers closed in on the helpless duo. Legolas began to panic. It's only a matter of time . . .

With a final burst of speed, they managed to break clear. To his relief, Legolas could see the gates of Minas Tirith opening in the distance. I must lose them now . . .

As he crossed the threshold, he could hear the high-pitched shrieks of his pursuers. The sound was pain on any ears, and, following Gimli's suit, the elf toppled off the horse and onto the ground.

The Tower Guard were stunned. They had never seen and elf falter before, but then again, they had also never heard the evil noise of just moments ago. After securing the gates, Beregond ran over and knelt by the fallen riders. Gimli was lying face-up, breathing heavily but very much unhurt. He seemed, however, too winded to speak.

Legolas lay unconscious at the feet of their horse. He was on his side, and Beregond could see four sharp cuts across his pale cheek. He puzzled as to what had made them. Was it a knife? It looked more like talons . . .

After a few moments, the elf sat up, exhausted after his ride. "Where – is – King – Elessar?" he panted. "Must – see . . . national – security – at – stake . . ."

Beregond helped him to his feet as pointed hastily. "The courtyard, I believe. He spends his afternoons there."

Legolas and Gimli walked briskly to the courtyard, their faces still white from the terror they had escaped. Upon entering, Legolas tactfully averted his eyes.

In a minute, the Queen was back in her own seat and blushing profusely. Aragorn cleared his throat, smoothed out the wrinkles on his shirt, and finally met his friends' gaze. "Legolas! Gimli! What a pleasant surprise!"

Gimli, ever the rude one, laughed loudly. "So this is how a King fills up his busy day!"

Legolas whacked him over the head with his bow and bowed deeply to the King. "I apologize for his indecency. It's not something he can help at all."

"Hey!" Gimli advanced on his friend. "Like you don't tell the obscene little joke from time to time . . ."

Arwen chuckled, amused. "Do they always bicker so?"

Aragorn groaned. "Imagine running across the Riddermark with them for weeks – back when they WEREN'T best friends."

The Queen shuddered. "I'd rather not."

Legolas, his formality receding, sat down opposite the King. "We come to you with the uttermost matter of national security," he said gravely. Gimli snorted, but the elf continued steadily. "For nigh on a year they have pursued us now. We are brave and cunning, but there is no escape from these creatures. They follow us, day and night. Wherever we are, they are there, always watching." He shuddered. "In the dark I hear their cry. More shrill, more evil than I have ever known. They call me." He began to tremble violently. "And it is only a matter of time before they will get me."

Aragorn nodded bravely. "I know what creatures you speak of. I have seen them, their dark shadow falling over the land whenever they come. They gather quickly, and once you are spotted it is not long before you are surrounded." He paused, remembering. "They chased the hobbit for ages, Frodo especially. I suspect that even now they haunt him. And they have come after me, and Faramir as well, though rare is the occasion."

Gimli sighed, disgruntled. "They have never approached me! I can see how they might be a threat in great numbers, but this sissy elf here will run from even one!"

Instead of anger, Legolas looked on his friend with pity. "You do not know, Master Dwarf, the evil they carry. I suppose they began as innocent, as good, but time and chase has corrupted them! They now seek one thing and only one: me, or Frodo or Aragorn, depending on which they are after."

Arwen spoke up. "What are they called in your parts? Here in Minas Tirith they are known as the Omnes, the ever-present hordes that besiege our king." She squeezed her husband's hand sympathetically.

Legolas looked as if the mere word filled him with fear. "In Mirkwood we called them the Seusyram. But I have also heard them called –" he lowered his voice to a whisper – "fangirls."

A collective shudder ran through the group.