Special, Just Like Everyone Else

Summary: The Marchwarden of Lothlórien is looking for a bride, the King of Mirkwood is throwing his youngest's "coming out" party. When these two meet will the sparks fly from romance or blades?

Warnings: Oocness (a give in fan fiction), Mpreg., hilariously inappropriate humor!

Couples: Haldir/Legolas

Disclaimer: Uh if you actually believe that the LotR characters are mine then I doubt you'll have the wits to do anything about it when your reality crashes down and you realize I don't. *grins*

Note: I'll only say this once, sorry for any grammar/spelling or incorrect information. Tell me in a review and I'll try to fix it but only if you say it nicely! I have a fragile ego! *whimpers*

ALSO- I was inspired by Kaiyoz, who wrote "The Difference Between Love and Marriage", a lovely piece that I recommend everyone read. This is without her permission (I don't know her email) but I have post a review in one of her fics telling her I doing this! Anyways I'm totally dedicating this fic to her and all Haldir/Legolas fans!

Block, thrust, strike, kill, twist, block, thrust, block, strike, block, thrust, rotate, kill, turn and repeat. The sword moved with a will of its own, twisting and slashing through the air as it sliced down and into orc flesh. The putrid creature howled as the elven blade carved into his body, black blood welled up from the wound. The orc heaved its thick blade at the elven warrior once more, succeeding in leaving an opening for said warrior to attack. With the opportune moment upon him, the Marchwarden of Lothlórien thrust his sword into the orc's chest, turning before the beast even hit the ground to attack his next opponent.

Grasping two arrows from his quiver he placed them in position on his bow and fired off the two shots, hitting each target successfully. Taking two arrows again, the Marchwarden aimed for a farther target and let loose. A toow sound echoed his bow's use, each shot hitting the target.

As an orc lunged at him from the side he spun and slashed at the creature. He moved to grab more ammo for his bow, only to swipe thin air; letting out an undignified snort he returned his arm to his side. Instead of his bow, he now grabbed his ax, flinging it into the distance at an orc who was getting too close for his comfort.

The orcs fell in a hasty speed, elven blades slashing in and out of the beasts' flesh in the flick of an eye. The Marchwarden of Lothlórien flashed by the Lord and Lady as he took out four more of the enemy.

They had been journeying to Mirkwood for the celebration when a horde of orcs fell upon them. Thankfully there was a party of warriors traveling with the Lord and Lady in order to join in for the coming out of Mirkwood's royalties youngest coming in full maturity.

His sword found its place in an orc chest and soon after was swung to take off another's head. Dashing forward with an elven speed, he blocked a strike made by another of the horrid beasts. Thrusting his blade at the orc he was annoyed to find it blocked, turning slightly and attacking once more he accomplished in getting past the monster's defenses.

Ignoring the sweat that trickled down his chiseled features, the Marchwarden sped up the tempo of battle by charging a large group of the enemy. Roaring out a battle cry and using a velocity unseen by the proficient warrior prior he attacked the orcs with a passion. In fighting, the elf was really able to outshine his companions; parrying a jab made he struck the adversary down with a few well-placed moves.

Growling obscenities about lazy scouts, the Marchwarden of Lothlórien took up his sword to defend his Lord and Lady once more. Black ooze slid down his blade as he cut into another of the repulsive creatures closing in on the horses. A downward motion with his weapon took down an extra. His breathing was labored as he searched around for more of the enemy. Finding none he concentrated on slowing his heartbeat.

Signaling for his second in command to come forward he instructed for a party of warriors to stay behind and burn the orc bodies.

"And upon arrival to Mirkwood, see that the scouts are sent directly to myself; I will not be made a fool of there." The other elf, use to the Marchwarden's severe manner nodded and moved on to take care of his orders.

After the job was complete the remaining elves would rejoin the main party in Mirkwood. Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel were to meet with the King of Mirkwood, Thranduil. The celebration of the coming out of his youngest was the main concern.

As he reached down to grab his ax out of the orc he'd killed with it, the Marchwarden pondered the reasoning behind the celebration. The lord of Mirkwood was neither known for his charisma nor his hospitable attitudes. The opinions of most concerning Mirkwood's king was that of a cold-hearted tyrant. Having never ventured to the darker woods himself, the Marchwarden was unable to form an opinion of the ruler and was thus unable to devise why the coming out of such would draw such a crowd. Wiping clean his ax and blade he returned the weapons to their previous locations.

"Our path is once more safe, my Lord."

"Let our journey continue Marchwarden, our halt here has diverted us much too long."

The party dispatched a few warriors to take care of the remains, as the rest of Lórien's party moved forward to Mirkwood. The voyage had taken several weeks already; it was the longest he had ever travelled for a coming out party. Perhaps second only to that of Elladan and Elrohir's. His Lord and Lady had come from Lothlórien to Rivendell, though; it had been a big ordeal, for elves seldom gave birth to more than one and even fewer gave birth to a carrier.

It had been a joyous occasion, as a carrier or maternal elf was very rare indeed. The race of elves was an ancient and elusive one; unfortunately they did not have the capabilities that were afforded men with procreation. 'All' females did not come quipped with the abilities. It is said that an enchantment can be uttered to bring about the ability to carry, but it must be done before the first breath of a newborn. There have been a few mentions of males being able to take over the role of a female in reproduction. Being a recessive trait in elves, very few even had the potential naturally.

When Elrond produced not only twins but also one with the maternal ability, he was battered with constant suitors for his son. It had gone on for three days before Elrond announced in a deadly calm that his sons would both remain unattached for the two thousand years until maturity. This did not stop some very determined suitors for settling down in Rivendell. That had been just a decade before the youngest in Mirkwood's birth, close to the twins, was herald with the death of the mother, the Queen. So much concern had taken over the death of the much beloved ruler that the news of the youngest had been subdued and not announced as thoroughly as was custom.

An elf did not reach full maturation until they were at least one thousand years old. Due to the complex formation of a maternal elf, though, they matured at a much slower rate. It took twice as long as the average elf, more often than not though these precious ones did not make it to the age.

In the later Ages, once it was discovered that they did not reach their full potential until two thousand years, they were being cared and protected diligently. A few cases of rape and battery had reached the ears of the Lords and Ladies leading to the laws against treachery on the maternal elves available. An unwed maternal elf was guarded around the clock due to the sensitive nature of their physiology. More often than not, carriers would be secluded from the male population altogether. These maternal elves were treated as rarity that even elves did not often see in their times.

The coming out of a maternal was a great celebration that lasted for weeks. Elladan's had continued for two months, his brother coming out at the same time. It was a difficult time for Lord Elrond, who was responsible for the future of his sons. With a great deal of deliberation he had decided to allow his sons to choose their own mates. That had been the cause of even more an uproar. Even now, ten years after their coming out, the two were still unattached. This was not uncommon.

Due to an elves lifespan, the choosing of a life partner was to be decided carefully. A rash decision was often the cause of many battles and harsh feelings. In fact, seven thousand and eighty-nine years ago the Mirkwood prince had left a Rivendell princess and had left the rivaling kingdoms as bitter contenders. Later, around nine hundred and seventy-four years, each had married into the Lórien kingdom; allowing a fragile serenity to come between the two kingdoms.

They were still a half a day's journey from the kingdom when they had been attacked. There had been news of orcs attacking the borders of Mirkwood but this had been unexpected. Obviously, it was more of a problem then they had been lead on to believe. Perhaps, this was in truth the reasoning behind the celebration; Thranduil, in hopes of gaining a few allies, would offer his youngest at the reward. It made sense, and was often carried out by the royals. The Marchwarden was so caught up in his thoughts that the arrival of another party startled him and his horse as he jerked back on the reigns. Due to the scouts lack of…duty he had taken over the post.

"We seem to have some more visitors, my Lord."

Ok this is my first piece I've written as a seventeen-year-old! *squeal* Today is my birthday! I just turned seventeen! I was so happy I got right to work on this! I wanted to post something special for my birthday and at first was like "I should post seventeen stories" and then reality kicked in and I realized there was no way in hell I could come up with that much work! Soooo you lucky people get this lil teaser for my very first posted Lord of the Rings piece!

Later yo,

Icy