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!
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
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
"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
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!