I do not own Lord of the Rings or any of the characters. I do, however, own Éol. Enjoy!
"Look what I did!"
Coming from the mouth of a child, those words can mean two very, very different things with two very, very different results. One can be translated to "look at this menagerie of Elmer's glue and macaroni and glitter that I smeared all over a piece of construction paper that you'll compliment no matter how god-awful it looks!".
The other option which is far less desirable, can roughly be translated to "Look at this menagerie of Elmer's glue and macaroni and glitter that I smeared all over your carpets, walls and precious personal belongings!". That option is not beneficial for either party involved.
This exact situation happened to the one-and-only elf of the Fellowship, whose kindness and skills with a bow were unmatched. Yes, you guessed it. This exact situation happened to Legolas, son of Thranduil, prince of the Woodland Realm.
Of course, there wasn't any Elmer's glue, or dried pasta, or glitter, involved. And, of course, this happened long before our elf friend embarked on the journey of a lifetime to help save Middle-earth. This happened a few hundred years ago, when Legolas was nothing more than a mere elfling under the care of his father, Thranduil. This happened when Legolas's mind was filled only with hopes and plans for when he was going to be a "big elf" (as Legolas once called it. But according to Thranduil, the only way to become a big-elf is to eat all the vegetables on his dinner plates, no matter how mysterious and smelly they were).
To this day, Legolas denies all statements made about the situation and will most likely hide away in the forests of Greenwood. Thranduil will simply avoid the topic at all costs and claim that he has "kingly duties" to tend to. But fear not! I will tell you everything.
-The Palace of Greenwood the Great, 1,500 years ago-
The small pitter-patter of small feet echoed through the halls of the Elvenking. No, these were no dwarves, goblins or any other strange tiny creatures. These were the innocent feet of the young elfling Legolas, just under 500 years old.
Palace guards carefully watched the elfling prince run back and forth, up and down, the halls, observing the happy little smile on the prince's face, and the abundance of strange materials in his hands. Blackberries, mud, leaves and other "outdoorsy" things were being transported into the palace by small hands with an unknown purpose.
pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter... Blackberries.
pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter, the sound of a particular blond-haired elfing tripping, pitter patter, pitter patter... A handful of wormy mud.
pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter... Tree sap.
pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter... A few wild strawberries from the gardens.
Assuming that the child was probably "baking" more horrid mud pies that Thranduil would have to choke down with a painfully fake smile, the guards thought little of Legolas's actions. But when the loud crashing and banging echoed through the narrow hallways instead of the repetitious sound of elfling's feet, a guard named Éol went to check to see what the little one was up to.
"My prince," he called, "Are you well?"
Surprisingly, the young voice that called back was sounding unharmed. "I am well, Éol! Come, see what I am making!"
The young guard wasn't sure what to expect. What was to be expected from a mischievous princeling? He cautiously peered over the hall's bend, and took a good look at the creation.
His eyes immediately widened at the... horror. Yes, horror. That was the best way to describe it. Éol's already milky white skin turned even more sickly pale at the treacherous abomination that the elfling simply called "artwork".
With his jaw mouth wide open, all he could do was lightly nod at the smiling prince and walk away as fast as he could.
Looking as if he'd just witnessed a gruesome murder take place, he awkwardly stood in his designated post in the hall. His fellow elves saw how he stood frozen in time and space, and asked him what happened.
Éol remained staring at the floor, but managed to say in a grim voice, "We are going to be banished from Greenwood for the rest of our immortal lives, if we are permitted to keep them that is..."
The elven guards tilted their heads in confusion. "What did you see, Éol?" they anxiously asked. "What happened?"
All Éol could do was point a trembling finger at the corridor from which he came- the corridor that Legolas lurked in.
The rest of the guards expected to see a group of spiders; perhaps a pack of orcs. Maybe, just maybe, a Balrog crept up from the black abyss and made its way into the very palace of Greenwood.
But what they saw was much worse.
Much, much worse.
More horrifying than any other creature in Middle-earth. They witnessed a horror so gruesome, so spine-tingling, that they'd rather face the wrath of 1,000 balrogs than deal with the situation.
They saw the "art" of an elven prince.
"Isn't it lovely?!" Legolas cheered.
The guards looked at each other slowly.
One of them finally found the guts to speak up. "Who is going to tell the king about this?"
Ooooooo, what did Legolas do?
Review, if you don't mind!