4 years ago
"Now we call upon stage... Legolas Flamel!"
The words echoed across the school auditorium, cheerful and loud through the microphone.
Legolas froze behind the curtain, knees stiff, paper clutched in his shaky hands. His name felt too big for his mouth. The teacher standing beside him gave a small nudge. "Go on, sweetie, you're up."
He stepped out onto the stage.
Bright lights hit his eyes. A sea of students stared back at him. Some leaned forward with curiosity. Others already looked bored. His stomach clenched. His hands were clammy. He walked to the mic stand, the paper in his hand crinkled with his tight grip.
"G-Good morning everyone…" he began, his voice small and cracked. "T-Today I'll be t-talking about m-my hero… Superman."
A moment of silence.
"He's… he's really strong. And brave. And he always—"
The mic slipped from his sweaty hand. It hit the floor with a loud clang followed by a sharp eeeeekkkk of feedback from the speakers. The sound screeched through the hall.
Gasps. A few giggles.
He bent down to grab it, but his foot caught on the mic cord. His body tilted forward.
Thud.
He landed hard on both knees.
And then came the laughter.
It wasn't everyone at once. Just one or two at first. Then more. Then more. Soon the whole front row was giggling and whispering. Someone in the back laughed loud enough for everyone to hear. A girl leaned to her friend and said, not quietly enough, "Superman fell."
Face burning, he stood up quickly, too quickly, and stumbled again. The mic was still buzzing in his hand. His cue cards slipped and scattered across the stage. He tried to scoop them up, but they were all out of order now. His mouth opened, trying to keep going.
"H-He… Superman always… h-he never…"
A voice from the crowd yelled, "Is flying your power, Flamel? 'Cause your landing sucks!"
Laughter exploded. A boy pretended to trip on the aisle and mock-fell into his seat. Teachers tried to stop them, telling them to be quiet, but they were too out-numbered.
Legolas stared at the paper in his hand, words completely gone from his mind. His lips trembled.
"I… I…"
Another wave of giggles. His heart pounded in his ears louder than anything else. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
He dropped the mic.
And ran.
Off the stage. Through the wings. Down the hallway. His shoes thudded against the cold floor as he ran out the school gate. Tears blurred his vision.
He didn't stop until he reached home.
*
The door to his room creaked open.
He sat on his bed, curled in a ball, clutching his Superman action figure tight to his chest. His face buried in the blanket, muffled sobs escaping.
His mother entered quietly. She didn't ask what happened. She already knew.
She sat beside him gently. Rubbed his back. "Lego," she whispered.
He didn't respond.
She leaned down, brushing the hair off his forehead. Her heart twisted when she saw the redness of his eyes, the pain written all over his small face. "Talk to me, baby."
"I'm never going back," he mumbled. "I'll never speak in front of people again."
"You were trying your best."
"They laughed," he said, voice cracking. "They laughed at me. I'm not like Superman. He never cries. He never trips. I'm nothing like him."
She wrapped her arms around him tightly. "You're braver than Superman."
"No, I'm not," he sniffled.
"Yes, you are," she said firmly, gently pulling him into her lap like she used to when he was smaller. "You stood there in front of everyone. Even when you were scared. Even after falling. You still tried. That's what heroes do."
He didn't speak. Just held on to her.
"One day," she whispered into his ear, "everyone will stand up for you. One day, they'll all clap and cheer. And you'll remember this moment… Legolas Flamel" and smiled.
She kissed his forehead.
*
Present
Legolas walked slowly, every eye in the room locked onto him. They were all waiting for him to speak. He could feel the weight of it—the grandeur, the magic, the sheer importance of the moment. His feet felt heavy, his chest tight. All his life, he had been overlooked, ignored, or worse, laughed at. Never important. Never seen.
But now, they were all watching him. And not with mockery—there was awe, respect, maybe even love. It was too much to take in at once. A tear slipped out of his eye, but he didn't even notice it.
He only snapped back when the king gently called again, "Prince?"
"Oh—I'm so sorry!" Legolas said quickly, wiping his cheek with his sleeve and bowing awkwardly. "Your majesty."
The king chuckled kindly. "No, no, it's fine. Don't bow so much! You are the man of honour today."
He gestured toward the grand seat at the far end of the massive table, directly opposite the king and his family. Legolas walked toward it, unsure if he was dreaming. The chair looked like something out of a museum, carved with golden vines and glowing softly.
He pulled it back slowly and sat down, trying his best to mimic the grace he'd seen in movies. "He's a king, you idiot! Behave!" he told himself mentally, trying not to wipe his sweaty palms on his clothes.
As soon as he sat, everyone else followed. The room settled.
Then came the greetings. One by one, people, the ones nearby who could reach him, leaned in to shake his hand—tall, armored elves, short bearded dwarves with massive rings, humans in silk robes, even an owl-faced man in royal wear. Some bowed low. A few kissed his knuckles. While the ones at far end bowd with hand on chest.
"Prince."
"Welcome, Prince."
"An honour, Prince."
Legolas nodded politely, managing small smiles, but inside? He was freaking out. No amount of fantasy novels or anime binge-watching had prepared him for this. This was real. This was now. And he had no idea what the hell he was doing.
He closed his eyes for a moment. Breathe. One deep breath in. One out. He told himself, Play along. Don't screw this up. One step at a time.
He opened his eyes and looked around the hall again. The glowing chandeliers. The floating torches. The magical sigils carved into the very walls. The people watching him with respect. This was his new reality. Whether he was ready or not.