Author's note: Many thanks to my colleague flyingarrow for her fun yet hard work in creating Legolas. I should clarify that her work with Leggy will not end until much later because we have quite a few chapters (which I am still editing!). However, I didn't tell her how much I changed this chapter! She handed over the story to me, so there will be chapters like this one where I completely take over & change things to suit Haldir's needs.

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do not own any of Tolkien's characters or places. Any comments on the Elvenking's appearance are likely my own and do not reflect Haldir's thoughts.

Note: I know Leggy has been terribly spoiled throughout this entire story! And that you are growing rather tired of his bratty ways. Now you shall find out just what the Elvenking is going to do with his son! :D I will warn it is on the higher side of T rating, but I do not think it is worthy of M. But read with caution just in case.

Chapter 7

Legolas simply waits in his dungeon cell, wondering what he did wrong.

Thranduil stalks into the penitentiary and locks himself in with his son, hiding the key in his bosom. "Legolas, what were you thinking?" he demands, staring down into the younger elf's face with wrathful blue eyes.

"I was thinking it would be a non-harmful way to have fun. I honestly did order them as large."

He glares at him. "You frightened Haldir. He thought you were going to tie him up and torture him or something. He said you were getting along fairly well up until that point. Is this true?"

"Yes. Very well. I even bought him a dagger."

"Well, that is the only action you took of which I approve. He now sports bruised and chafed wrists, one broken and two cracked ribs. That is not taking care of him. Did I not specifically order that you were to consult either me or your mother before you did something like this?"

"Yes, Ada," he puffs out.

"You tell me: how do you think you should be punished?"

"I should not be punished at all because I did not know what was going on."

He sighs with a royal swing of his gorgeous flaxen locks. "Did I not raise you to think? How else was he supposed to react?"

"By asking what I was doing, not running."

He sighs again. Whatever did he do to deserve such a son? "Fine. You are not allowed to have any chocolate for one whole month, And you are on kitchen duty for the next three days. I have ordered them to give you the filthiest jobs and you will do them. I am also sending for Rumil and Orophin, Haldir's brothers. They will accompany you everywhere because the tables have now turned on you. Haldir will order you around, and you will get along with him and do as he tells you. One little mistake means you will be immediately dumped right back here in this cell, after you receive twenty lashes, then you will live on only bread and water for three days. I will not tolerate your insolence any longer. Do you understand?" he asks with a firm look.

He frowns. "Fine."

"Good. I refuse to sympathize if Rumil and Orophin have to take matters into their own hands. I shall turn a blind eye to them. Now go apologize to Haldir. He has to take it easy for a week."

Scowling, he goes up to my bedroom, knocking angrily on my dark wooden door.

I jump when I hear the knock. "Who is it?" I call nervously, carefully standing after putting down my book and tea.

"Legolas."

"What do you want?" I growl, leaning up against the door.

"Open the door, and I will tell you."

"Legolas, go away." I sit with my back to the door.*

"No. I was ordered to come."

"Well, say whatever you want out there and leave. I was told I could stay here the rest of the day." ((Haldir does not yet know he is the superior now!))

"Not until you open the door!" he almost yells.

"No! I will not open this door! I can't trust you!" I yell back.

"If you don't, I'll open it for you! I know there is not a lock in this room!" he bellows.

"No!" I refuse, sitting tighter against the door.

Growling, he twists the knob, shoving hard.

I wince as I'm knocked forward. "Stop!" I yell.

"Open. This. Door. Now!" he shouts, shoving the door harder.

"No!" I bellow. "Just GO AWAY!"

"If I do, I'll get into more trouble!" he yells back, ramming the door again.

I cry out in pain as I'm slammed forward onto the floor as the door crashes open. "Please!" I moan, cradling my ribs.

"NO!"

I sigh and sit up. "Fine. But if you hurt me again, I am going straight to your father."

"Good. Now you will listen to me!"

"No, I'm just letting you talk to me. Listening is optional." I scowl up at my nemesis with one arm wrapped around my middle.

"For starters: I did not mean for those cuffs to hurt you," he glares back, wanting to just make me pay.

I glower at him and stand, my arms crossed. "Right," I say sarcastically. "Like I believe that."

He clenches his fists. "I mean it."

"Well you certainly do not look like you do."

"Come on! Can't we just try to get along?"

"I tried that already. I thought we were getting along better, until you did this to me." I hold out my bandaged wrists to show him.

He gives me a dirty look, not even caring that I am injured. "I just told you, I didn't mean it."

"Just what did you mean then? It seemed very threatening to me," I give him a disapproving look back, crossing my arms again.

"To play a game, have a little fun."

"Some game," I practically spit out. He lunges at me, knocking me down. I cry out, then roll over and punch him. "Your father is hearing about this!" I yell, swinging my fists at him.

Dodging my blows, he hits me back, kneeing me in the side. "I tried to make this right, but you will have it the hard way!" he shouts.

I moan as my ribs are jerked out of place. "Stop!" I yell, trying to get up so I can run to the throne room. Those Mirkwood guards are never around when they're needed.

"No!" He seizes me, holding me down. "When will you learn to keep that mouth of yours shut?!" he growls, leaning into my face.

Panting, I struggle against him. "Never!"

"You will, when I'm done!"

"No!" I try not to show my fear, but I know he will kill me the first chance he gets. He cannot be an elf. He has to be an orc. Only orcs are that nasty.

"Now, behave, or you shall regret it!"

"No! Your father did not give you license to abuse me. Now you let me up," I hiss.

"I will not! I was going to be nice, and try to be friends, but you obviously do not want that!" He continues to pummel me as I fight back, managing to bloody his nose again.

"I told you, I tried to be nice, but you went and ruined everything. You never wanted to be friends. You never tried." I have to sit still, breathing hard and wincing every single breath where my ribs hurt so terribly badly.

He stands over me with a menacing face. "You did not. Now, how shall I teach you your manners?"

"I have manners, thank you very much."

"Not good enough!" he hisses.

I glare back at him. "You tell me just one thing you did to try to be friends!"

"I bought you that dagger you liked. I got you food. I made sure you had a bed!"

"Yes, just so you could come back and kill me with it," I retort.

"What? I'm not killing you. I'm teaching you a lesson!" He kicks my ribs, cracking them further.

My stomach flips over and I cannot hold back the vomit, which I notice contains quite a bit of blood. He jumps out of the way. Moaning, I attempt to roll over. "Can't...breathe..." My eyes roll back in my head as the darkness oppresses, and I suddenly know nothing.

Legolas growls lightly and stands there, confused.

A knock sounds on the door and a Lord Fairion's voice comes through. "Prince Legolas, are you in there?"

He remains completely silent.

"Haldir?" Fairion calls again. "King Thranduil wants to know where his son is. He is not in his room, or the kitchens as he should be."

Holding his breath, unsure, Legolas remains silent and unmoving.

Fairion puts his hand on the doorknob. "Alright, someone is in there, and unless you have been drugged and are passed out, or dead, you had better answer this door!" Deciding no one will let him in, he opens the door, some guards flanking his sides. Two of them enter with swords drawn. "What is the meaning of this, Prince Legolas?" they demand.

He backs away. "Just go away!"

"No, Prince. You are coming to see your father at once." Two of them grab prince Legolas while Fairion gently picks me up and rushes me to the healer's, yet I know nothing as I am passed out.

Sighing, Legolas goes with them.

The Elvenking stands as the guards enter with his son. They explain the scene and he glares at Legolas. "What am I going to do with you?" he asks, putting his head in his hands as he sits back down, relieved the Elvenqueen is elsewhere.

"Just let me get rid of him!" he whines in response.

"No, I think not. Although it sounds like you may have killed our guest. You are going to have to be punished. Yes, what he did to you was wrong. However, since then he has been quite docile and repentant. There is no call for you to abuse him like that."

"But Ada!" he complains, mad.

Thranduil sweeps down from his throne, robes billowing behind him. He puts his nose right on that of his son as he gives an angry gaze. "No arguments!"

Attempting to glare back, Legolas trembles slightly but refuses to back down. After a minute, his father straightens and takes him by his ear. "To the dungeons!"

Whimpering, the younger elf is dragged down into the dark, dank depths of the palace where the torture chambers lie.

"Take your robe off," the Elvenking orders, having had enough nonsense for one day.

"No!" the prince refuses, crossing his arms and maintaining a rigid stance.

With a stern scowl, Thranduil personally bares his son's back before he can do anything and ties his hands to the dark wooden post. Legolas kneels in the middle of the floor where such floggings are administrated. Then the King of Mirkwood takes the whip from his chief torturer and metes out the twenty lashes. After two strikes Legolas cries out, but his father, face hard, does not let up until he is finished. "Put him in a cell. He is to have only bread and water for the next three days. I will send a healer down to tend his wounds. Do not allow him to escape. If he does not behave, you have my permission to chain him and bind his mouth, or wash it out with the soap again."

"Please let me go!" the prince begs, crying from anger and pain. His back sports large, red welts in deep angry stripes that contrast with his pale skin, blood oozing from the wounds and dripping onto the dark grey stone floor.

Thranduil simply walks away without a backward glance.** After sending Tywien down, whom he knows is his son's least favorite healer, he retreats to his chamber for a long talk with his wife about their child's disobedient ways.

*Yes, my dear readers, another Frozen reference! :D

**Thranduil is not cold! He is simply exasperated with his son and tough love like this seems to be the best solution.

Question: Did I go too far in punishing Leggy? Thranduil told me he thinks that he was very just, & I agree.