Legolas fic again!!!!!!! Yay! I am SO into that scrumptious elf.
Legolas: Is that a good thing or a bad thing for my mental health?
In this demented fic, Thranduil's wife, whose name is, yet again, Eilphdi, dies after giving birth to twins. Sob.
Legolas: Wuh-oh. I smell a plot twist...
To supply a female, Thranduil decides to raise one child as a girl. Three guesses who.
Legolas: !@#$%^&*!@#$%^&*&^%$#*!@#$%^&*!!!!!!!!!!! Why is it always me?
Because I say so. Shut up. Okay, now that that's been cleared...
Chapter One: Faux Princess
Legolas- or, as the majority of the people knew him, Princess Legala- absentmindedly curled the hem of his dress between slender fingers. His maid was setting the waves into his hair for him tonight, because he was simply too tired to do it himself. The entire day had been spent at Council, filling in for his brother. He liked the work, but he wasn't really suited for it. He preferred to paint and draw, and ride his horses out through the dark paths of the forest.
His brother was currently out on a field mission, miserable as he could be. Legolas would have done anything to have their roles reversed, but...
//As adar constantly reminds me, it is not a ladylike occupation. Or at least, not a princesslike occupation, being a member of the Mirkwood Guard's company. I do envy Romul. He will be able to see so many animals and plants I can only read about.//
When he was born, his father had insisted that he be raised as a princess, because he looked the most like his mother. He had inherited Eilphdi's golden hair, her lips, her cheekbones, her smile, and now her title. The only reason her kept with it was because Thranduil was most likely going mad, and would not hesitate to take aggressions out on him if he did not wear his disguise. Secondly...
//Secondly, no one knows that Legolas exists. I think adar has forgotten- he really does not know that I am not a princess.// Legolas sighed, and bent his head. //Even my own brother thinks I am Legala. I have no one to talk to...//
Mari slapped the side of his head. "Princess! Your hair will mess if you wiggle so!"
Legolas mumbled an apology, and continued to stare sadly into the mirror, gazing at a face that was indisputably female. He became she; Legala looked back at herself.
Legala reached for a container of makeup and began to powder her face, letting it soak up her sweat and the oil on her nose. One good thing about the heavy ceremonial makeup was that it prevented acne. Legala smiled wryly. She really was more of a girl at times like this.
The skirt she wore was a beautiful shade of deep blue and pale blue, puffing out like chiffon because it had so many layers. It was, in reality, spider silk. Well, at least the monsters were good for something. The top was a bit more tight and ruffly than Legala would have liked, but still, he-
//Focus, Ala. Think of yourself as a girl, and it'll be easier to forget that you aren't. Although, the padding in the chest IS a tad bit unnecessary... I guess adar still tries to see mother in me, even though our eyes were different...//
Legolas sighed, and let his concentration shatter. //Who am I kidding? I'll never think of myself as a girl for more than three minutes at a time before some ugly oaf takes a swipe at me. Or until someone really pretty distracts me.//
He set down the powder brush, his face now completely white. Legolas reached for the pot of lip paint, and began to apply it. It tasted nasty when it got on his tongue, wet and slimy. He was very very grateful that he only had to wear it during high ceremonies. Same for the white powder; he was pale enough to go without it, but protocol insisted that he dress in full attire for all wide social events.
It was rather boring and a bit tiresome to keep having bulky, brawny, sweaty men present themselves as his suitors. Sure, that was the general preference, but didn't some girls prefer the incredibly pretty boys? Legolas pouted. It wasn't fair. He was, as a girl, forced to watch all the roughhousing and brawls between suitors over his hand in marriage, when he'd rather they all disappeared in a hole in the ground, swallowed up forever where they couldn't bother him...
//Now, now, Legolas, those are the thoughts of a weakling. Cease your endless fascination with dead hopes. You will never be a man, not as long as your father lives. You will never marry, because even your father would not betray his own secret. You are destined to be alone in this life; simply shoulder your burdens without complaint and don't keep chasing shadows.//
Legolas sighed, and he stood up gracefully, the long skirts swaying from his hips to his ankles in an alluring fashion. He blushed under the powder. He hated wearing this dress, really. It made his figure look even more feminine.
Mari gently took his hair out of its confines and it burst out, waves crisp and fresh. She then took two small, gold, bowl-shaped wire weavings in an ivy pattern, and put up two small sections of his hair in clips. Then, she put half of the separated sections up into buns, leaving tails that trailed down in a golden waterfall to mix with his other hair. She secured the hair ornaments over the buns with a few hairpins, and then stepped back, satisfied.
Legolas saw his reflection and gasped involuntarily, his hands reaching up to touch the glass before him. "My hair looks... like it is the ocean," he said truthfully, amazed. "I do not recognize myself. Truly, Mari, you work wonders with my hair! I can hardly manage to brush it on my own, and yet you can transform me..."
//I wonder which half of me is more real? The half that the world sees, or the half that I say is my true self?// Legolas smiled at himself, and then turned away from the mirror. //I suppose it does not matter, my second half. According to the rest of the world, that other half of me does not exist.// ******************************************************************
*****tbc*****
Yay! Reviews, please....
Legolas: Is that a good thing or a bad thing for my mental health?
In this demented fic, Thranduil's wife, whose name is, yet again, Eilphdi, dies after giving birth to twins. Sob.
Legolas: Wuh-oh. I smell a plot twist...
To supply a female, Thranduil decides to raise one child as a girl. Three guesses who.
Legolas: !@#$%^&*!@#$%^&*&^%$#*!@#$%^&*!!!!!!!!!!! Why is it always me?
Because I say so. Shut up. Okay, now that that's been cleared...
Chapter One: Faux Princess
Legolas- or, as the majority of the people knew him, Princess Legala- absentmindedly curled the hem of his dress between slender fingers. His maid was setting the waves into his hair for him tonight, because he was simply too tired to do it himself. The entire day had been spent at Council, filling in for his brother. He liked the work, but he wasn't really suited for it. He preferred to paint and draw, and ride his horses out through the dark paths of the forest.
His brother was currently out on a field mission, miserable as he could be. Legolas would have done anything to have their roles reversed, but...
//As adar constantly reminds me, it is not a ladylike occupation. Or at least, not a princesslike occupation, being a member of the Mirkwood Guard's company. I do envy Romul. He will be able to see so many animals and plants I can only read about.//
When he was born, his father had insisted that he be raised as a princess, because he looked the most like his mother. He had inherited Eilphdi's golden hair, her lips, her cheekbones, her smile, and now her title. The only reason her kept with it was because Thranduil was most likely going mad, and would not hesitate to take aggressions out on him if he did not wear his disguise. Secondly...
//Secondly, no one knows that Legolas exists. I think adar has forgotten- he really does not know that I am not a princess.// Legolas sighed, and bent his head. //Even my own brother thinks I am Legala. I have no one to talk to...//
Mari slapped the side of his head. "Princess! Your hair will mess if you wiggle so!"
Legolas mumbled an apology, and continued to stare sadly into the mirror, gazing at a face that was indisputably female. He became she; Legala looked back at herself.
Legala reached for a container of makeup and began to powder her face, letting it soak up her sweat and the oil on her nose. One good thing about the heavy ceremonial makeup was that it prevented acne. Legala smiled wryly. She really was more of a girl at times like this.
The skirt she wore was a beautiful shade of deep blue and pale blue, puffing out like chiffon because it had so many layers. It was, in reality, spider silk. Well, at least the monsters were good for something. The top was a bit more tight and ruffly than Legala would have liked, but still, he-
//Focus, Ala. Think of yourself as a girl, and it'll be easier to forget that you aren't. Although, the padding in the chest IS a tad bit unnecessary... I guess adar still tries to see mother in me, even though our eyes were different...//
Legolas sighed, and let his concentration shatter. //Who am I kidding? I'll never think of myself as a girl for more than three minutes at a time before some ugly oaf takes a swipe at me. Or until someone really pretty distracts me.//
He set down the powder brush, his face now completely white. Legolas reached for the pot of lip paint, and began to apply it. It tasted nasty when it got on his tongue, wet and slimy. He was very very grateful that he only had to wear it during high ceremonies. Same for the white powder; he was pale enough to go without it, but protocol insisted that he dress in full attire for all wide social events.
It was rather boring and a bit tiresome to keep having bulky, brawny, sweaty men present themselves as his suitors. Sure, that was the general preference, but didn't some girls prefer the incredibly pretty boys? Legolas pouted. It wasn't fair. He was, as a girl, forced to watch all the roughhousing and brawls between suitors over his hand in marriage, when he'd rather they all disappeared in a hole in the ground, swallowed up forever where they couldn't bother him...
//Now, now, Legolas, those are the thoughts of a weakling. Cease your endless fascination with dead hopes. You will never be a man, not as long as your father lives. You will never marry, because even your father would not betray his own secret. You are destined to be alone in this life; simply shoulder your burdens without complaint and don't keep chasing shadows.//
Legolas sighed, and he stood up gracefully, the long skirts swaying from his hips to his ankles in an alluring fashion. He blushed under the powder. He hated wearing this dress, really. It made his figure look even more feminine.
Mari gently took his hair out of its confines and it burst out, waves crisp and fresh. She then took two small, gold, bowl-shaped wire weavings in an ivy pattern, and put up two small sections of his hair in clips. Then, she put half of the separated sections up into buns, leaving tails that trailed down in a golden waterfall to mix with his other hair. She secured the hair ornaments over the buns with a few hairpins, and then stepped back, satisfied.
Legolas saw his reflection and gasped involuntarily, his hands reaching up to touch the glass before him. "My hair looks... like it is the ocean," he said truthfully, amazed. "I do not recognize myself. Truly, Mari, you work wonders with my hair! I can hardly manage to brush it on my own, and yet you can transform me..."
//I wonder which half of me is more real? The half that the world sees, or the half that I say is my true self?// Legolas smiled at himself, and then turned away from the mirror. //I suppose it does not matter, my second half. According to the rest of the world, that other half of me does not exist.// ******************************************************************
*****tbc*****
Yay! Reviews, please....