A/N: I do not remember writing this. I do not know when, how, or why. All I know is that digging through the endless files on this computer often excavates amusing results.
Note: There is no ice cream and television in Middle-earth, nor can you so quickly get from Mirkwood to Minas Tirith to Rivendell, etc. etc. etc. That's why I dub this 'silly-fic', so don't get your canonical knickers in a twist.
Disclaimer: All to Tolkien save for Titanic, Kate and Leopold, Ben and Jerry's… and some fangirls.
Finding True Love
Legolas sighed. He was depressed. He was depressed because he thought he'd never find true love.
"I'll never find true love!" he wailed in anguish, then sighed again for good measure.
It may seem strange that a studly Elf such as Legolas was having trouble finding true love. Surely female suitors jumped at him right and left. With so many to choose from, he was bound to find the perfect one.
Unfortunately that was just the problem.
"Love is something that should just happen!" Legolas would passionately argue when his friends criticized his unwillingness to have an extended conversation with anything female (especially if they were hyperventilating). "I mean, it should be a bump-into-the-person-look-into-their-eyes-and-realize-fate-has-brought-you-together… type thing. Not an attacked-by-some-one-hiding-behind-the-bushes-and-bent-on-having-your-children type thing!"
His friends would laugh and call him a romantic, which left him feeling rather sour. Of course they could laugh. They didn't have to worry about being constantly assaulted by women.
And so Legolas was quite depressed. As long as those blasted fangirls kept him within talon's reach he would never be able to find his true love. Some one who loved him for who he really was! He decided right then and there to grab a carton of Ben and Jerry's and spend the rest of the night watching Titanic. At least Rose and Jack really loved each other.
After finally selecting rainbowsprinkles to go with his ice cream (as opposed chocolate ones, or those weird orange and black ones that had been in the drawer for at least fifty years and had 'Easter Pastels!' printed across the packaging) and stocking up on tissues, Legolas had an epiphany.
He'd tried getting rid of the fangirls before. He tried restraining orders, body-guards, xx-chromosome detectors, and this cheap repellant he'd bought off eBay that left him running from a swarm of enraged bees for a day and a half. (He still had to sit down carefully.)
Suddenly it occurred to him to try something completely different. Rather than changing his environment to make it safer for him, he could change himself. Yes, that was it! He would make himself so completely undesirable that no woman would be caught dead mooning after him! Finally he would be free for true love to take its course! He cackled triumphantly and dashed out of the kitchen. He would start right then! He would... he would…
Legolas stopped in his tracks, and a very unhappy thought crossed his mind. He realized that he didn't know how to make himself undesirable. He glanced at a conveniently placed mirror on the wall. His complexion was flawless, eyebrows plucked to perfection, not a single golden hair was out of place.
"I'm gorgeous!" he cried hopelessly. He thought back to the ice cream he'd left melting on the counter. It seemed more appealing than ever. Just when he had given up and started back towards the kitchen he heard a familiar sound. A horribly familiar sound. It would be hard to miss, what with his heightened senses, especially since those heightened senses were at this point constantly on alert for just this sort of thing.
A single high-pitched squeal.
He spun around, glaring down the hall. It was as empty as it had been before. As much as he didn't want to hear the sound again, he wished he could so as to better determine the Enemy's position. Carefully he reached down towards his boot where a tightly compressed Emergency Inflatable Aragorn™ lay waiting to be used. It was his last defense in a bad situation.
Still nothing. Had he only imagined it then? Was his paranoia playing tricks on him?
His ears twitched and he became aware of steady footsteps approaching from the direction of the kitchen. They were nearly silent- he probably wouldn't have heard them at all if he hadn't been listening so hard. Too silent, it seemed. He had learned the hard way that they had perfected this art for the sole reason of sneaking up on him, usually while he was in the shower. Of course, all Elves walked silently, but at the moment Legolas didn't want to take the chance. He set off at a cold run in the opposite direction, trying very hard not to scream.
Okay, he thought as he ran, so I have less time then I thought. I've got to find some one to show me how to be less likeable! But who? Father, maybe? He doesn't have too many fangirls! Although I suppose that's more or less because no one really knows who he is… or they assume that he treats everyone the same way he treats thirteen vagabond Dwarves that come plundering through his forests… wait, DWARVES! That's it!
Soon he had exited his father's halls altogether, and set out into the forest without bothering to stop and prepare a horse. He had to find Gimli and fast!
Legolas cringed, rubbing the side of his head. It was lucky he'd perfected the art of ax-dodging, or he'd probably be out of limbs at this point. He wasn't sure what Gimli was so angry about. He'd merely pointed out that Gimli had no fangirls whatsoever, and that it was probably because he was short, dumpy, gruff, and slightly less clean than he could be. The Dwarf had immediately been enraged, and said he would never help a poncy pretty-boy like Legolas. Legolas sighed. Gimli had such a temper sometimes…
He had taken refuge in one of the gardens of Minas Tirith (where he'd eventually found the Dwarf). It was a very picturesque garden- rather perfect for being wistful in Legolas's opinion. At least as long as he was within the city walls he was under the King's protection from anything that meant him harm (or the exact opposite).
A hand clapped him on the shoulder, and he looked up to see Aragorn grinning down at him.
"I heard you and Gimli fighting," the Man said cheerfully. "I think our friends in Edoras heard you and Gimli fighting. Want some kingly advice?"
"I'm afraid my ailment is one that even you can not heal," Legolas said miserably. He cast his gaze downward towards the edge of the city. A small army had formed at the front gates, and was apparently hard at work constructing some sort of battering ram. He shuddered. He could practically read the "I love Leggy" t-shirts from here.
"I see," Aragorn said as he nodded sagely and stroked his manly stubble.
"You're lucky to have Arwen," Legolas said despondently, "They generally leave you alone now-a-days."
Aragorn agreed, "Yeah, that wife of mine is really something. Me? I was always kind of afraid to actually hurt any of the beasts. But Arwen… I had no idea she was so skilled with a sledgehammer." He paused, admiring some memory or another.
"That's exactly it!" Legolas cried. "You found true love! That's all I want more than anything in the world, Aragorn. How did you get so lucky?"
"We just sort of bumped into each other," said Aragorn fondly, "I mean, I was in the forest, she was in the forest, I mistook her for her ancestor, and when we looked into each other's eyes… well, I knew that fate had brought us together."
Legolas's jaw dropped. "But how did that happen? Didn't the fangirls get in the way?"
Aragorn smiled. "I was too young and unknown at the time to even have any fangirls."
"Great," Legolas moaned, "So I've missed my chance. You don't happen to have any Chunky Monkey do you?"
"I ate the last of it last night," Aragorn said sheepishly, before adding in defense, "But there was a Kate and Leopold marathon on: I needed it! …maybe you should try Rivendell!"
"You think they'll have some in Rivendell?" Legolas asked hopefully. Aragorn paused.
"I have no idea. But it's very peaceful there and you look like you could use a break from all the stress. My brothers can be as distracting as you need them to be, if the occasion should arise…"
"I suppose I could…" Legolas said doubtfully. "But that still doesn't solve my problem of becoming less desirable. I thought trekking through the wild on the way here would leave me gross enough to—"
Aragorn cleared his throat.
"Believe me, my friend. Thatneverworks."
The sons of Elrond had gladly taken Legolas into their home, inviting him to stay as long as he needed. Sure enough, fangirls lurked here and there, and he was shocked to find that the twins encouraged them. They enjoyed the attention! Of course, they weren't looking for anything as momentous as true love, and this set-up did rather work to Legolas's advantage.
But he couldn't hide in Rivendell forever. One day he would have to return to the outside world (and really, he ought to make up with Gimli) and face his demons. This left him with only limited time to learn the secret he so desired to uncover.
One fateful day, he came upon Lord Celeborn lounging in a study, idly reading a book. Legolas would have passed the room so as not to disturb him before a very interesting thought came over him. Come to think of it, Celeborn had no fangirls! At least not to his knowledge. Even with the Lady Galadriel gone no one made a move on him. And he was certainly no less fair than Legolas himself. He must know the secret! Legolas thought excitedly, and dashed into the room.
"Please, my lord!" he begged, throwing himself on his knees. "I long to find true love, and can't get those who don't really love me out of my hair! Won't you advise me in the ways of ridding oneself of them?"
Celeborn blinked. He hadn't noticed that Legolas was so emotional the last time they'd met.
"I think I know the answer you seek…" he said wisely. He stood up and indicated that Legolas should quit groveling and do the same. Legolas waited with baited breath to hear him out.
"I'm old," Celeborn said anti-climactically.
Legolas was crestfallen. "That can't be it! I mean, sure, you're a lot older than me, but you certainly don't look it."
Celeborn shrugged, "You misunderstand. I have seen the first age of this world. I have thousands of years' worth of wisdom and experience. People just assume that this makes me look old. But what really triggers it is this: I have grandchildren."
"Grandchildren…?" Legolas repeated doubtfully. He was old enough to have hundreds of grandchildren, after all.
Celeborn nodded. "I had more fangirls than I could keep track of when I was your age. They wouldn't even leave me alone when I married, or when Celebrían came along. But the moment Elladan and Elrohir were born… that was it."
Finally Legolas was beginning to understand. "So even though you don't really look old… people just associate the fact that you have grandchildren as… oldness… so they go after the twins instead?"
"Precisely," Celeborn said proudly. Legolas beamed… until he realized something.
"How can I have grandchildren if I don't have children? How can I have children if I can't find my true love? I'm doomed!" he sunk to his knees again. Celeborn raised an eyebrow.
"I suppose I see your point… however melodramatically it was made… so why don't you find a charming young man to pose as your grandchild?"
Legolas looked up, sniffing, "Do you really think that would work?"
Celeborn smiled reassuringly and said, "Of course it will," partially because he really believed it would and partially because Legolas was beginning to give him a headache.
Legolas spent the next three days storming around Rivendell, interrogating its remaining occupants. Plenty of the males were handsome enough, but many were either older than him or just plain uninterested in his proposition. I'm a failure at everything, Legolas realized. He had talked to nearly every Elf in Rivendell. He would have to leave the safety of the valley and go searching elsewhere- and who knew how long that could take?
It was by chance that he happened to come across some one hard at work chopping dead tree limbs into firewood. Legolas stopped dead. He was tall, he was thin, his hair was golden-chestnut, and he was currently shirtless. It was almost too much to ask for.
"Hello," he said timidly, approaching the youth. The other Elf looked up and smiled. It was a very dazzling smile.
"Hello," he replied in a voice that managed to be both roguishly manly and sensuously melodious at the same time.
"This may seem like an odd question…" Legolas began, turning up his charm 100, "But how would you like to pretend to be my grandson?"
The Elf frowned thoughtfully. "Aren't you Prince Legolas?"
"Yes, I am," Legolas answered hesitantly, hoping it was a good answer.
"So…" the Elf said, "if I posed as your grandson… would that make me a prince too?"
Legolas blinked. "Er… yeah. I guess so."
"Okay then," the Elf said with a grin. Legolas felt a great weight lift off of his shoulders. He was a grandfather now! This poor chap probably had no idea what he was getting himself into.
"Thank you very much!" Legolas cried happily. His "grandson" shrugged, then glanced up behind him.
"Here comes my sister. I suppose she'll have to be your granddaughter."
"Huh?" Legolas wondered. He turned so as to see who was approaching, only to determine that she was closer than he had realized. A lot closer. The two collided and went tumbling to the ground.
"I'm so sorry!" Legolas immediately cried. He hoped the two wouldn't be mad at him and decide not to be his grandchildren anymore. The girl looked up, rubbing her head but appearing unhurt and unalarmed.
Their eyes met.