Disclaimer: I sadly own nothing but the twisted idea for this.
Authors note: Takes place after the ring was destroyed.

Legolas limped home from a hard days hunt. A rookie Elf had moved the branch while he was shooting. This caused him to slip and fall, crashing to the ground. The doe had been scared away. Legolas limped home faster, his head hurt from whacking it on a tree branch. He went to his room and lay on his bed face down. The coolness of the pillow felt soothing on the cuts on his face. Legolas’ father came into the room. “Legolas, are you alright?” Legolas grunted and his father left.
“Morning.” A voice said. It sounded like his father yet also like Aragorn. Legolas yawned and stretched his toned muscles. Without opening his eyes he walked to his mirror. That was weird his tights felt oddly loose. His mirror wasn’t in the same place either. He grunted and opened his eyes. No wonder he couldn’t find his mirror he got up from the other side of his bed. Legolas sighed and closed his eyes again. He sat down on his bed and began to brush his long black hair. “Black” ran through his mind. As Legolas looked at the lock of hair he noticed his hands were smaller. He let go and looked at his hands. Up to his wrists was a purple material. Legolas looked down and saw he was wearing a nightgown. His breath rate increased and he walked quickly to his mirror. The reflection wasn’t his it was…Arwen’s.