A/N: This is not meant to be offensive to Legolas lovers in any way. It just sort occured to me to wonder what life would be like if you had hundreds of people writing about you. So please don’t hate me, I enjoy the occasional Leggie-fic myself.
Legolas Makes A Decision
How Fan Fiction Affects Our Beloved Characters
Legolas glared at the tree. The tree, he suddenly realized, was glaring back. So he glared at the ground instead.
“Legolas, what is the matter?” Gimli asked. “The Glittering Caves were beautiful, you admitted it, and Fangorn isn’t as bad as I expected. So why are you in such a foul temper?”
Legolas sighed. Gimli was unusually perceptive for a Dwarf. I need to tell someone, he thought. I just can’t handle this anymore. “It’s these fan fictions, Gimli,” he blurted out. “They’re driving me insane. I have five different memories of my entire childhood. I have nine different sisters. I can’t remember if I’m my father’s heir or not. And right now I am supposed to be in love with THIRTY-FIVE PERFECT WOMEN!”
Woah, thought Gimli as he watched the Elf’s breakdown. Being a Dwarf has definite advantages.
“Aragorn only has five sisters and two brothers, as well as the odd aunt,” Legolas ranted on. “The Hobbits always marry the right people, even if they do have multiple courtships. Mithrandir only has a few minor crushes. And Boromir is dead so he doesn’t have this problem!”
“Legolas, I told you not to wash and re-braid your hair every day,” Gimli reminded him. “You’ve really brought this upon yourself.”
“Not this much! It isn’t fair!” Legolas howled, now in the verge of tears. “It’s not even my life any more. You’re lucky! You’re bearded and short! You don’t have to deal with hordes of swooning maidens who call you Leggy!”
By Aule, Gimli thought as the Elf began to sob on his shoulder. Legolas really needs help. And my tunic is getting soaked.
“And I have multiple personalities,” Legolas went on. “I don’t know if I’m haughty and reserved, or incredibly nice, or easily amused, or even a complete orc! And I can’s remember which of fifty-nine different women joined the Fellowship. If any at all. And that is just on one @#$%,&* site!”
“Well, we all have that problem,” Gimli answered. “There were a lot of random women in the Fellowship. But somehow they were never there all at the same time. I don’t understand it.”
“And most of them fell in love with me. I don’t know which of them I’m supposed to be with now.” Legolas continued to sob on the Dwarf, who was by now was totally drenched. Elves don’t cry often, but when they do it’s rather extreme. “I’m probably a bigamist. I just don’t know any more!”
“You know, Legolas,” Gimli said, “there are a lot of very good counselors and psychiatrists around at Laketown and the Lonely Mountain. They really helped Elladan and Elrohir. Elrohir had about they same problem as you do-thirteen different women-and Elladan felt unwanted because no one ever fell in love with him–“
“The lucky beggar,” Legolas muttered.
“Anyway, they’ve really gotten back on track and pulled their lives together. If you want to come to the Lonely Mountain with me, I’m sure we could find you a good psychiatrist.”
Legolas hiccupped, slowly getting in control of himself. He looked at Gimli. “Sorry,” he said. “You’re sopping wet.”
“Yes, but I suppose it’s in a good cause. So, will you come to Erebor with me? It will really get you sorted out.”
Legolas considered. Could it be possible? A new dawn in his frantic and frighteningly romantic life? Yes. He could do this. He would live his own life, with or without hordes of love interests. “Yes, Gimli,” he said at last. “A psychiatrist will be a great help.”
So it wasn’t too horrible, was it? I hope no one is offended for life, but several people told me to post it. I crave pardon from any affronted parties.