All In a Day's Work

It was a clear, starry night, and the moon streamed brightly on the tops of the trees of Mirkwood Forest. Unfortunately, the moonlight couldn't penetrate them, so it was awfully dark on the forest floor.

Which is why no one saw the mob coming.

Their footfalls were silent on the mossy ground, the various pointy, potentially harmful farming implements clasped in their hands went unseen.

Prince Legolas was suitably surprised to suddenly jerk awake as King Thranduil bellowed, "Go see who's at the door!"

There was an insistent pounding at the mouth of Thranduil's cavern. Legolas rolled aside the giant boulder that served as a door and squinted into the darkness. Despite his keen Elven sight, he couldn't make out more than a bunch of dark blurs.

"Who is it?" he asked drowsily.

"An angry mob!" shouted one of the blurs.

Legolas blinked."At one in the morning?"

"Well...yeah!"

"You could have been more subtle about it, you know."

"Subtle?" repeated another blur.

"Yeah," Legolas nodded, about to fall asleep on the spot.

"Just let us see Thranduil!" a third blur yelled, hopping up and down with anger.

"He's sleeping. Come back tomorrow."

With much grumbling and muttering, the blurs left.

As Legolas trudged back to his room, Thranduil asked, "Who was it, son?"

"An angry mob," the prince said tiredly.

"Oh. Legolas?"

"Yes?"

"Can you bring me an aspirin?"

Legolas sighed. "Yeah, Dad."


The next morning, they rose bleary-eyed and yawning. Thranduil had stayed up most of the night with a headache, and Legolas had stayed up for fear of being attacked during the night by the angry mob.

So neither of them were remotely in the mood when the mob swept down on them as soon as they set foot in the throne room.

"Hold on!" Legolas cried as the Elves clustered around him and his father, their shovels, pitchforks, plows and hoes pointed at them. "Just why are you here, anyway?"

"What do you mean?" asked the leader.

"What do you want from us?" Legolas asked, carefully pushing aside a particularly sharp shovel.

The Elf looked confused. "I really don't know."

"I know," Thranduil said sullenly. "You're unsatisfied with my rulership techniques. You feel I'm an inadequate leader. You would rather reform the government so that it was a fairer system. You're typical royal subjects."

"And you forgot to add that you're a drunkard who beats his son!" added another mob member, waving a pitchfork.

"My dad doesn't beat me!" Legolas said, insulted. "He loves me!"

"Where did you hear that?" asked Thranduil mildly.

The Elf shrugged. "The Mirkwood Inquirer."

"Don't believe everything you read," Thranduil sighed.

The mob stared at them in disbelief. Then, the leader shouted, "Charge!"

"Arrest them!" cried Thranduil at the same time.

Ten minutes later, the mob was being led off to the dungeon, held captive by the royal guard.

"And him, too," Thranduil added nonchalantly, pointing at his chief advisor.

The advisor looked shocked. "Me?" he squeaked. "Why me?"

"You organized the mob, and you let them in here."

"How did you know?" asked the amazed advisor as he was dragged off by the guards.

"It's always the advisor," Thranduil said, sliding into his throne. He sat up abruptly. "Or the butler." He looked at Legolas. "Keep an eye on the butler."

"Yes, Dad," Legolas nodded.

Thranduil ruffled his son's hair. "You will make a good king. As long as you stamp out rebellions, keep taxes low, and don't marry a woman who'll poison you so she can spend the royal treasury on silk dresses, solid gold jewelry and poofy dogs, you should be fine."

Legolas looked surprised. "Wow. You've got some experience."

"All in a day's work, son. All in a day's work."