Wow! Thanks for all the good reviews, guys. Keep em coming!

I'd like to thank you guys for helping me out with the age thing. I researched elf ages, but I couldn't find anything definite, so I just kinda winged it. I guess that was my fault. But I'll definitely remember your advice for future reference!

But, yes, Legolas would be about 5 in human years here :)

"Who is going to tell the king about this?"

All of them simultaneously looked at their own feet, uncomfortably shifting around. To tell the king would result in death, destruction, certain calamities of mass proportions and the epitome of all that is unholy.

And to not tell the king would also result in death, destruction, certain calamities of mass proportions and the epitome of all that is unholy.

Situations like these are the worst of all predicaments. There is no "right thing" to do, as both options will result in the same horrific way.

The awkward silence was broken with the sound of more squishing and banging sounds, as well as innocent laughter from the prince. Whatever monstrosity Legolas was cooking up, it was getting worse. And it was only funny for the creator himself.

"Oh, I will tell the king..." Éol finally declared.

As he made his way down the long corridors of the palace, Éol heard the quiet mumblings of his fellow guards' blessings. They all seemed to wish the grace of Elbereth herself onto him.

The palace of Greenwood was a rather large one, filled with many hidden chambers and entwining halls that were always carefully monitored for any signs of spiders, orcs and sometimes a little elfling notorious for not going to bed when told to. As Éol made his way through the underground passages, he thought about the best way to word this little tale, and all of the possible consequences.

Doom.

Death.

Extreme pain.

Total annihilation.

Éol finally reached the large wooden door that led to Thranduil's main hall, where he sat upon his grand throne of wood. After clearing his throat for a good long while, the elf knocked on the door. The knocking ricocheted around the hall, echoing for all of the palace to hear. "It is I, Éol, my king!" he called, "Permission to enter?"

A rather authoritative voice, but still a calm one, called back. "Permission granted; please come in."

The guard gave a rather large shove to open the solid oak doors, revealing the throne room. Most of the room was wood with elaborate carvings and patterns, but there were also sparkling gems encrusted into some of the structure. This was definitely the halls of a forest king if there ever was one.

Éol gave a respectful bow to the Elvenking who lounged in his throne, and briefly studied his face. Thranduil definitely didn't seem as if he were in a bad mood. In fact, he seemed rather content. Perhaps it was because he was not being begged to scarf down a grimey mud pie.

Is it better to approach a happy king with bad news and ruin is day, or approach an angry king with bad news to worsen his day? Éol wondered.

"My king," he began, "there is something you should... tend to..."

Thranduil furrowed his brow. It was very unusual for a request so suddenly in the meeting. "And what would that be?"

"Well... er..."

"Yes?"

"It's Lego- the prince. It's the prince. He's... he's done a... uh... he's done a thing. Yes. A thing. The prince has done a thing." Éol stammered.

"A thing."

"Yes, my king."

"And what 'thing' has my son done that is so very important?"

"There's no easy way to put this..."

"No matter. Say what you must say now."

"He.. got a little creative.. and... he... he did a thing."

The king squinted his eyes. "Éol, if you are going to spit out nothing but gibberish and waste my time, I'd suggest you leave before you spoil a pleasant evening."

"Please, my king, you must.. you must see to this matter immediately. Words alone cannot describe such a... thing," Éol begged.

Seeing that perhaps Éol wasn't totally out of his mind, Thranduil decided to humor him.

"Very well, Éol. Guide me to the site of this "thing" of yours. I've been wanting to spend some time with Legolas, anyway," the Elvenking sighed, approaching the much shorter elf.

And so, they went through the twisting halls, past all of the grand portraits and statues, and back to the group of the guards.

The guards all gave painfully awkward greeting bows, all out of sync and choppy, making Thranduil even more confused as to what was oh-so-horrible, and why they wouldn't do anything about it.

"You fools! Why are you looking so mortified? Is this not a situation that you can handle? If this is about Legolas... he's just a little one. Unless my son has transformed into an entire orc-army, this should have easily been taken care of," Thranduil scolded. Honestly, what kind of guards had he hired if they cannot control an elfling?!

All they did was softly whisper "My king..."

"Oh, nevermind. Just tell me where this 'thing' is, and I'll see that it is fixed."

"'Tis in that corridor, my king," Éol sadly said, "I wish you and your son the best of luck."

And with that, Thranduil approached the corridor in which untold evils of the worst of all sins lurked in the shadows of his very palace.

"Legolas, my son, whatever are you up to?" he called, using that gentle voice he only seemed to use when speaking to the elfling.

"I am making art, father! Please come see!" Legolas called. He sounded as blithe and merry as ever.

Oh please, Thranduil thought. They have caused such a big scene over an elfling's craftwork? Why, I would have more success than using nannies as guards than soldiers!

After deeply considering that idea for a few seconds, Thranduil shook it off and entered the accursed corridor.

But what he saw was not art.

No, it was more than just art.

This was ghastly. Despicable. Unthinkable for an elf.

This was pure dread. Dread on canvas.

Thranduil's long life flashed before his eyes. The words of his death would be "Thranduil, son of Oropher, King of the Woodland Realm: death by elfling's artwork".

He looked down from the monstrosity, and down at the small prince before him.

"Ai, Legolas..." the king said, his voice full of despair, "what have you done?"

Ha! Another cliffhanger. I'll definitely tell what happened in the next (and probably) final chapter. I've just been having so much fun writing this, I didn't want it to be a one-shot!

As usual, please review if you have a minute!