Disclaimer: I laugh when I read other people's disclaimers. Then I remember that I don't own them either.

AN: By the Valar, it's been awhile! I suppose I'll let you get right to the good stuff then. Enjoy!

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

High in a tree in the outskirts of Rivendell's lovely gardens huddled an elf. Not just any elf mind, but a prince. He possessed long blonde hair tied in braids, a worn but still obviously high quality traveling tunic, and a rather frightened look stamped across his fair face.

Now what business, one might ask, would such a being have being crouched in a tree, frantically speaking to it and begging it to keep him hidden?

The answer is quite simple actually: the elf, Legolas Greenleaf by name, had made the grave mistake of angering the entire Peredhil family. He had thought the whole thing was quite funny... until his traitor mouth had run away with itself. Now he was stuck in a tree. Normally the situation wouldn't have been so dire, but Legolas wasn't sure that his so-called 'friends' would calm down before he starved to death.

He'd been up in the tree for nearly thirty hours already. First Elrohir, then Elladan, then Estel had come near his hiding place. All three times, the full foliage and the obliging tree and kept him invisible. The twins had each left looking rather vexed. The young human however, had been absolutely furious.

Splotched a multitude of colors from various inks, he had stalked throughout the garden for nearly an hour, ranting and raving about a certain woodelf being far too clever for his own good. After nearly fifteen minutes of this, the formerly well-phrased tirade had degenerated into fits and bursts of unintelligible random words: "Elf... dye... mud... take the fall for EVERYTHING... blasted elf... squirrels... bloody RODENTS... blasted elf... squirrels... rrrrrrrrrgh!"

If Legolas hadn't been quite so alarmed, he would have found it funny.

Instead, he found himself huddling even closer to the tree's trunk

He almost regretted the entire affair. But then he thought of the way he had been sent off last time, with his shriek (his face flushed hotly at the memory: princes did NOT shriek) echoing in the air behind him. Suddenly, two squirrel attacks and a couple of ink drenchings didn't sound too horrible.

Finally, as the long day drew to a close, he decided that it might be safe to sneak out of his safe haven and into the kitchens. Offering the tree his thanks for its protection, he dropped lightly to the ground and stole away into the twilight.

He felt absolutely ridiculous sneaking through Imladris, which had always been a safe haven. And yet he found himself tiptoeing about as if there were balrogs and orcs prancing through the corridors. He hid in nooks and doorways whenever an elf approached, not knowing whether or not they approved of the 'attacks' on their entire governing family.

Finally he reached the kitchen doors, but paused, trying to decide how to approach this particular obstacle. There were almost always cooks in the kitchen, no matter the hour. It was near dinner, and tantalizing smells tortured his sensitive nostrils and growling stomach. It would likely be a madhouse in there. It was possible he could make a mad dash through the length of the room and snatch something off the counters before someone registered that he wasn't merely another cook trying to finish a dish.

Before he could think it through and decide against it, he was through the ornately carved oak door and running for all he was worth. His reflexes, honed by battle were put to sharp use as he ducked and weaved through the room, leaving staring elves after him. His garb plainly showed just who he was, but he was too fast for them to do anything besides just stare with wide eyes.

Leaping over a crouched elf who was looking into an oven, Legolas snatched a loaf of fresh bread from the counter. He landed and skittered to the left, ducking under a silver platter loaded with roast turkey. The elf carrying the platter just managed to keep his load from spilling everywhere in surprise. The woodelf was long gone, snatching an apple from a fruit bowl and several slices of turkey from a finished plate (he hoped it was one of the twins'). Finally, he turned and darted for the back door, pausing only long enough to pick up a tiny container of butter for his bread.

Flushing once more, this time from exertion and happiness over his 'robbery', he ran in the direction of the dining hall. Slowing as he approached, he took the time to hide his goods in a low bank of tastefully trimmed shrubbery. This done, he crept up to a window, apple in hand, and rose up on the balls of his feet to peer through at the scene inside.

As he munched away, bemoaning the circumstances that led to him being forced to sneak about, he saw a cook looking very befuddled appear in the hall and make an announcement. Judging by the way the twins and Estel scrambled to their feet (Legolas noted in some delight that Elladan's foot caught on a chair and he very nearly fell), it must have been about the escapade in the kitchen.

He snickered to himself, pleased with the whole situation. They would never catch him. He knew that, and they knew that, and they probably were well aware of both facts. Likely this made them even more angry. Absentmindedly picking leaves out of his hair, he took another bite of his apple. Inside, the twins were emitting muffled bursts of indignation and annoyance. Elrond's eyebrow was slowly making a pilgrammage towards his hairline, indicating he was swift losing patience with his sons. Sure enough, he opened his mouth and began to speak and the three brothers sat down sheepishly.

Estel's gaze bounced across the room, coming to rest on the large window that looked out over the garden. The very window the Prince of Mirkwood had his nose pressed up against right at that moment. The teenager's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Legolas allowed himself a cheery wave and an innocent smile. The sheer ludicrousness of his actions welled up in the back of his mind. Was he completely mad? Slinking around the grounds of Imladris like a common criminal and stealing food from the kitchens? He shuddered to think of his father's reaction and sent a brief prayer to the Valar that news of this wouldn't find its way back to his home.

But then he remembered Thranduil's parting words and his mischievous grin resettled itself onto his face. "Ion-nin, do whatever you think necessary to exact your vengeance. Show them that you are a force to be reckoned with!" The king had leaned closer and whispered into his son's pointed ear, "I have faith in you. Those Noldor elves will not have a chance!"

Rare indeed was it when Legolas received permission from his adar to act in any way he saw fit. Besides, this was war, and war required unorthodox methods. And because, at heart, he really was little more than an elfling who would never grow up.

With this in mind, he watched as the heads of every elf in the hall swiveled towards him. Standing tall and straight, he was delighted to find that he could open one of the windowpanes from the outside. "Hello everyone. Lord Elrond, I am pleased to see that you are back to normal coloring again." Somewhat at a loss, Elrond inclined his head. The wood-elf's gaze skipped about the focus on the twins and Estel, standing in a tight group behind their ada. "As for you three," and here he smiled and his voice lost the cool tones that had gripped it before, "I hope you understand that this isn't over. Not by a long shot."

"Just you wait until I get my hands on you!"

"You rotten little—"

"Bratling, if you think we're going to give up on this, you are dead wrong." Elladan's voice cut over his brothers' harsher protests and for a moment, Legolas felt a brief pang of unease. "We will catch you, and when we do, you'll beg for mercy before the end."

"Isn't that a little—hey!" Slender hands clamped down on his shoulders and dragged him away from the window. "Let me go!" The prince struggled madly but couldn't seem to manage to wriggle free of his captor's grip. The struggles intensified as he realized that he was being taken towards the entrance to the Hall. "You don't understand what you're doing! Release me this instant!"

"I think not."

The calm voice was instantly recognizable. The shock halted his wriggling for an instant, as the knowledge he would never escape from this particular elf sunk in. And then they were through the doors, his hands held behind his back in a firm no-nonsense grip and a heavy restraining hand on his shoulder. He found himself staring at what may have been the entire population of Imladris, and his face flushed.

"Glorfindel," he snapped irritably, "I am never going to forgive you for this."

A titter swept the room, and the twins stepped forward, identical evil glints sparkling in their grey eyes. They appropriated their captive from the venerable elf with profuse thanks and then frog-marched him towards the doors. "Little bratling, you are in pro-found­ trouble now." Elrohir's voice was full of self-satisfaction. Estel joined their little group, looking eager. No doubt, he was excited about the prospects of having a helpless Legolas on hand to do horrible things to.

It was a little too much for the elven prince. He kicked Elladan in the shin and buckled Elrohir's leg by swiping at the back of his knee. With an almighty wrench he tore free and made a mad dash for the open window. He was brought down preemptively by a spectacular joint tackle by Glorfindel and Estel. Dragged from the hall, fighting every step of the way, the last thing the elves at the tables heard was "You've doomed yourself Glorfindel! You're in on it now, and you are going to go down hard!"

The stakes had just been raised.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

The next morning found a thoroughly miserable Legolas tightly bound to a chair in nothing more than his underclothes. As nervous as he was, he had not apologized for his actions (seeing as they were completely justified), nor had he resorted to begging for his release. But as Elladan and Estel entered the room, clutching a bundle and looking positively gleeful, he found his stout resolve quail just a tiny bit.

"What are you about?" he questioned, eyes darting nervously from face to face.

"We are about getting our revenge," came the smiling response. Legolas felt his unease grow.

"Where is Elrohir?"

"Fetching the final touches. We are to prepare you."

"What am I, your breakfast?"

The brothers upended their bundle, spilling its contents across the floor. Legolas went pale, then flushed with anger and preliminary embarrassment. "You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't we?"

Fifteen minutes, ten attempts at escape, and cursing in five different languages later found two panting sons of Elrond and very disgruntled woodelf. "You know," Elrohir said, entering the room, "you were right Elladan. That deep pink really does complement his skin tone."

Legolas shot daggers at the cohorts with his eyes. "I hope you all die horrible deaths."

"Now that isn't very lady-like," Estel said chidingly.

The confined elf writhed against his bonds, snarling incoherent threats and trying unsuccessfully to escape before anything more could be done to him.

Elrohir opened the tiny sack he held carefully in his hands, revealing two tiny heads with deep brown fur and soft, rounded ears. Two sets of big black eyes fastened on the captive woodelf.

Legolas felt his throat work. "I'm going to… to…" Faced with a true nightmare, he could not find it in him to come up with any decent threats.

"Now," said Elladan, ignoring his former friend's sputters, "We are going to set you loose in the dining hall. There have been complaints that getting started in the morning has been difficult. You're going to make things… more lively." Gesturing to the two little menaces in his twin's hands, he said, "Our little friends are looking forwards to getting to know you better."

"I won't play!" Legolas declared as they cut him loose from the chair and manhandled (or would that be elfhandled?) him out of the room and through the empty corridors. "I will not be frightened into running all about the hall in front of everyone wearing this," he pointed irritably down at his garb, "and being chased by those… those rodents!"

"Oh, you won't be chased," Elrohir said as they stopped in front of the doors leading into the halls. Legolas was allowed a moment to mourn the fact that he was being forced to enter this room twice in less than twelve hours before the younger twin completed his thought. "This is much worse."

"Wait, what—"

Suddenly, the fabric against his back was plucked away from his skin and two squirming wriggling squirrels were dropped into the garment with him. Howling in surprise, he instinctively stepped forward, directly through the doors Estel had conveniently just opened.

The elves of Imladris looked up in surprise to see the prince of Mirkwood dressed gaily in a gorgeous pink gown, complete with a lavender sash tied around his narrow waist and matching slippers upon his feet. This in itself was cause for laughter and some no-so-discreet pointing, but what had the elves practically rolling on the floor was the mad dance he was currently in the process of doing.

He was reaching over his shoulders and slapping at his back. The gown was perfect, picked out masterfully by the evil sons of Elrond. It was roomy enough for the squirrels to maneuver in, but tight enough so that the audience could see two little bulges scrambling all over the woodelf's body.

Legolas was in something very close to agony. The squirrels' little claws alternately pricked and tickled, sometimes in exact harmony, eliciting strange giggles followed by yelps of pain. His reactions were excellent, honed by decades of battle, and few could challenge him and hope to win. But all that didn't matter. He simply was not able to keep up with the manic movements of two squirrels. His movements, normally smooth and calculated, were no more graceful than those of a giant spider in its death throes.

To put it simply, he flailed.

It took three and a half agonizing minutes as he staggered from side to side, skirts swishing, to catch the first squirrel. He dropped it to the floor and the little rodent promptly scurried back to Elrohir for safe keeping. The second squirrel persisted in scrabbling around his neck, down the extremely ticklish center of his back, and down one leg before making good its own escape.

Legolas was left panting in the middle of the room, face flushed and arms still raised for combat. His hair had come loose from its braid and hung in disarray across half his face. The half that remained visible was spitting mad. He stormed towards a table and picked up a canister of syrup then headed for the doors. His tormentors were doubled over with laughter, and so they completely missed his sticky intentions until it was too late.

"You've just made the worst mistake of your lives," he hissed venomously before stalking away. It was possibly the worst thing he could have done: the squirrels' claws had ripped open the back of the gown, enough so that the shredded undergarments he wore were visible, and along with it, the pale, bare skin of his rear end.

The shouts of hysterics that followed him only made him more determined to exact his revenge… the sooner the better.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

AN: Well, like it, love it, hate it? Did I lose my touch over time? Yes, no? I'm certainly hoping not, especially as there are two installments to go! Yep, planning for it to be a seven part series, with some extra special fun in the last telling. Ohmigosh! Rebell actually has something planned! Run for cover!

Thanks tons to everyone who reviewed The Squirrel Menace: Elflette, That Tath A. NuEvil, Aimme, Yemi Hikari, Randa-Chan, ArodieltheElfofRohan, Nelarun, kitsune, Miriel Silivenniel, LiQuYu, Lovewithwars, Mandanza, Tari Surion, and sazza-da-vampire. You guys keep me going… Cookies to everyone! (huggles all)