Title: The Diary of Legolas Greenleaf
Author: Jeniveela
Category: Humor
Summary: Legolas Greenleaf, princeling of Mirkwood, tells the story of his journey (beginning from the point after he leaves Rivendell with the Fellowship in Fellowship of the Ring and ending at the point where he departs over the sea with Gimli the Dwarf in The Return of the King) with the Fellowship through his satirically humorous diary entries.
Rating: PG. Some very minor crude humor in some places.
A/N: The idea for this fanfic just popped into my head today, so I decided to write it down and see what sort of chaos I could wreck with it. Don't get me wrong; Legolas is one of my favorite characters, but that never stopped me from trying to kill him off or poke gentle fun at him. Just remember this, readers. When they mock you, they care about you…And if they try to kill you off, well…They're just choose a tad bit sadistic, twisted way to show their affection.* 6^_^
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this fanfic because it is written purely for entertainment purposes only; it is not meant to make much sense nor be too thought provoking. And as always with any of my humorous fanfics, if somehow I insult anyone with my sometimes odd sense of humor, it was completely unintentional, and I apologize from the bottom of my heart.
Disclaimer: Don't own anything; never did. Everything belongs to the great JRR Tolkien. *Bows to Tolkien*
~*~*~*~*
Day 1: Of The Council of Elrond and Embarking on the Quest
Set out on 'epic quest thing' today with eight other companions. Apparently we're the 'Fellowship of the Ring' because we are going on this quest…mission…thing in what seems to me like a rather futile attempt to destroy a little, golden, corrupting ring owned by the really-peeved off Dark Lord Sauron who has very poor tastes in jewelry. I think Elrond's got him beat when it comes to having poor tastes in accessorizing, though.
I was sitting through the whole council thinking, "A! Elbereth! Does that Elf have any fashion sense whatsoever? What's with the silver tiara thing on his head? That is like so First Age…And the design of it definitely does not match his hair, (which has lots of little knots in it, I might add) nor does it compliment his rather intimidating eyebrows…"
When I wasn't completely distracted by Lord Elrond's atrocious, appalling fashion sense (or lack thereof), I listened to a bunch of my fellow kinsmen (none of whom are half as pretty as I am if I do say so myself) argue over what we're going to do about the Ring with a bunch of Dwarves who reeked like the foul corpses of Orcs left to rot under the sun.
I believe that the human Aragorn has them beat by a far league though, when it comes to poor hygiene. He smells and looks terrible even by the standards of Men…No, scratch that…He smells and looks terrible even by the standards of Dwarves, and that's saying a lot. I believe that even some of those foul, stinking, materialistic mountain dwellers would have even been offended by his overwhelming stench. Honestly, I've slaughtered some Orcs that had better hygiene than this mortal Man did…
And he wasn't the only mortal Man there either, unfortunately. There was another Man there by the name of Boromir, son of Denethor. Apparently he was sent to represent the race of Men in this mission…quest…thing, which basically just means that his father got tired of him lounging around the castle and booted him out in a not-so-subtle attempt to hint that it may be time for him to move out…
Anyway, this Boromir fellow was worked up about this Ring also. Who would have thought that there would be so much fuss over such a plain, ugly fashion accessory? Boromir said that he wanted to use the Ring against its totally fashion unconscious master in the name of his country Gondor, but I know that he secretly really wanted to keep it for himself. All Men who look upon it do. What's with the race of Men and their atrocious lack of fashion sense? I could live another few thousands years or so and still never figure it out…
Well, I finally stepped between Aragorn and Boromir at this point to intervene in the argument once I had inhaled enough oxygen to speak four short sentences without being overwhelmed by the Ranger's incredible stench. (And people wonder why I don't have many lines. Well, I'd like to see them try to give a grand speech when their brains are mostly concentrating on just trying to keep breathing when they are being overwhelmed by Aragorn's stench!)
Luckily for me, just as my keen vision was starting to turn hazy and reel before my eyes, Aragorn said, "Havo dad, Legolas. (Sit down, Legolas.)", and I staggered back to my seat incredibly short of breath.
The rest of the Council mostly consisted of everyone yelling at everyone else over who was going to take that dreadful fashion accessory to Mordor. I always knew that a poor fashion sense corrupts…
Anyway, when it was all sorted out, the Council finally decided that the Halfling Frodo would take it to the Black Gates…and as fate would have it, eight more of us were roped into going with him, myself included. Why did I volunteer myself to go to the Black Land of Mordor where I'm almost most certainly bound to meet the appalling fashion fiend who created such a corrupting, distasteful ring? Now that I think about it, I don't really know…It may have been something to do with Aragorn's malodorous stench strangling the supply of oxygen to my brain that caused me to stand up and say, "And you have my bow."
A second later, I realized, "What good is it without arrows?!" I would have smacked myself in the head except that I didn't want to bruise my delicate, pale complexion. I had worked over five hundred years to have such a flawless, perfect complexion; I wasn't about to risk marring it in five seconds.
And so, as I am about to head off on this 'quest'…thing, I conclude my first entry in my diary with the basic summary of all that I have learned about the quest that we are about to embark on and about my companions…
Things I Have Learned About this Quest Thus Far:
-The Dark Lord has a terrible fashion sense when it comes to making a weapon to rule all of Middle-earth. Couldn't he have forged the One Necklace or the One Bracelet? Or even better, why couldn't he have made the One Hair Barrette? Some things I'll never know…
-Lord Elrond's fashion sense is little better off.
-I don't care if he is a Ranger. Aragorn should still have at least enough time in his 'busy' schedule to take a bath at least once a day…Honestly, Arwen must either have a very poor sense of smell or a whole lot of faith in the miracles of lavender soap…and I mean a whole lot of faith…
-Gimli the Dwarf, son of Glòin, is completely stupid, materialistic, and stubborn as an Oliphaunt, which basically means that he's a traditional Dwarf.
-Sam has serious separation anxiety issues. If the Frodo Halfling walks two steps away, the fat hobbit starts getting his trousers all in a twist about it and wailing, "Mr. Frodo?! Mr. Frodo?! Where are you, Mr. Frodo?!" It will be hard to lose this one in the wilderness because he'll start screaming his head off about losing sight of his precious 'Mr. Frodo'. We'll have every Orc in Mordor surrounding us before he can even get to the part about, "Gandalf said, 'Don't you lose him, Samwise Gamgee', and I don't mean to…"
-The two other hobbits traveling with us, Merry and Pippin, are a bit difficult to tell apart, but they might as well just be called 'Useless Hobbit Number One' and 'Useless Hobbit Number Two' for all the purpose they seem to serve this quest. When I muttered about this under my breath, I think they heard me because they stopped whining about the lack of breakfasts and started exclaiming excitedly, "Who gets to be Useless Hobbit Number One? Who gets to be Useless Hobbit Number One? Huh? HUH?!" Honestly…
-Between all these nutters and the thought of facing a Dark Lord with no fashion sense, I think I am going to go insane before we've reached the end of this quest…or even worse, I might get (gulp) split ends…Oh the horror! The unimaginable horror!
I'll write more later, diary, if I haven't completely gone insane, been slain in battle, or am forced to suffer the horrific tragedy of split ends…And if I have been slain in battle…well…then obviously I won't writing anymore, right?
~Legolas Greenleaf
~*~*~*~*
A/N: How was that? Was it odd? Was it good? Was it terrible? If it was any of the above, please, please review! As always, flames will be given to the uber-spiffy Balrog. ^_^
*The odd joke I made in the beginning of the fanfic that some readers may not get (or even know that I was making a joke) is about one of my other LOTR fanfics called 'If I Should Die Before I Wake…'. Yes, I am aware that I am advertising one of my other fanfics inside another one, and I should be ashamed of myself…6-_-
If you're ever in the mood to read a very angst-y, depressing fic about Legolas dying, then feel free to go read it. But beware! It is strongly rated PG-13, so my younger readers should probably stay away from it.
Anyway, thank you for reading, and please review!
~*Jeniveela*~
^_^