The Golden King Of Mirkwood let out a pensive sigh as he gazed at the two elflings standing before him. Muddy, torn clothes, leaves tussled throughout their hair, water dripping onto the stone work and yet they still weren't remorseful. It was about time something drastic was done about them.

Either it was done now, or after breakfast on Tuesday.

Legolas and Ranna immediately became concerned when Thranduil dismissed the guards and any others who were present in the throne room. Punishments were always given out in front of the guards – helping the impression that the king was a hard and tough man, but when they got off without being disciplined, the ladies were always present. Giving the image of a kind father. Basically, Thranduil won out either way. But this was new, this was different, this was 'deviant'

To put it blankly – this was NOT a sign that puppies and happy flowers were going to result from this meeting.

Sitting down on his throne, Thranduil gestured to them to come closer. Without preamble they ran forth to sit on his knee. Consequently leaving the kings robes in such a state that the head laundry lady would later compare the general stench of the robes to that of a Dunedains tunic, A rather rude observation really.

He looked down fondly at the troublemakers before sighing…again.

"Ranna, Legolas…I," he struggled to find the words but managed to refrain from sighing. "The adults have been talking and we've discussed a particular option that up to now I have been objective too but now…I see it would be for the best."

Ranna and Legolas shared a concerned glance. Realization suddenly dawned on Legolas as he considered that they might be made to leave in the servants quarters for the next century while Ranna was fearful that they might make her go near a horse again. And was consequently creating a million different reasons why horses were somehow related to orcs or spiders. So concerned was she about this, that she didn't hear Thranduil's next words, instead Legolas had to repeat them too her later on – after he'd calmed down of course.

"You're going to be fostered for a year in another elven realm – separate realms I might add. You'll leave within the week."

With that Thranduil set the elflings off his lap and left the awkwardly silent room with an evil grin plastered firmly on his face. 'That's what they get for putting blue hair dye in MY shampoo.'

Those that believe in karma will be glad to know that he stubbed his toe on the way out.