Legolas jumped slightly as the door was flung open and Fëawen stormed in, a scowl on her face and her silver blue eyes flashing dangerously.
With a growl the princess threw herself onto the bed, not caring about the state of her clothes.
Legolas raised one eyebrow. “Please do come on in. Make yourself at home,” he muttered sarcastically, pushing his chair back and standing from his writing desk.
Fëawen lay on the large bed with one arm throw across her face.
“I would be most delighted if you would kindly refrain from putting your filthy boots on my bed.” Legolas crossed his arms over his chest.
“Take them off then,” Fëawen snapped angrily.
Legolas pursed his lips into a thin line, but nonetheless, pulled his sister’s mud-caked boots off and threw then into a corner of the room. “Anything else I can do for you, your Highness? the prince asked icily.
Fëawen took her arm off her face and stared at her brother. “What’s the matter with you?”
Legolas crossed his arms over his chest again and stared down at Fëawen, his face stern. “What is wrong with me? Excuse me, but you are the one that came storming in here, banging doors and throwing yourself onto my bed in your filthy clothes without so much as a please or thank you.”
Fëawen sighed and closed her eyes. “Leave me alone.”
“No I will not leave you alone, Fëawen Thranduiliell.” Legolas snapped testily. “Look at the state of you! You are filthy, a complete and utter mess.” He poked her tunic. “You are covered in mud and Valar knows what else.”
Fëawen shifted away from Legolas’ fingers. “Stop. That tickles,”she said, voice muffled in the sleeve of her shirt.
Legolas’ eyes glinted with mischief and he poked her again. “You are a mess.”
Fëawen squirmed away from him. “Legolas, stop it!”
“Look at that spot of dirt...and that one...and that one...and that one...” Legolas smirked as his fingers continued to poke Fëawen’s torso.
Fëawen couldn’t help it as she giggled while desperately trying to escape Legolas’ torturous fingers. “Stop it! I’m not in the mood, Legolas!”
“Honestly, Fëawen, I could play ‘connect the dots’ with the number of stains on your clothes.” Legolas said, stealthily moving in for the ‘kill’. He poked Fëawen just under her ribs and she shrieked with laughter, twisting away from her brother, but Legolas caught her and pulled her back towards him.
“Oh no you don’t,” he placed one knee on the bed and continued to tickle Fëawen and she choked with laughter. “Grumpy elflings need to be taught a lesson!” Legolas continued to poke each and every stain on Fëawen’s tunic, enjoying watching her laugh.
“Please, Legolas! I’m sorry! Let me up, please!” Fëawen begged helplessly between giggles.
Finally the prince let up on his ‘torture’ and allowed Fëawen to sit up. She sighed and swung her legs off the bed, staring guiltily at the muddy stains left on the blankets.
Legolas saw her look. “Don’t worry about,” he said. “Elrynd will understand. Feeling better?”
Fëawen nodded. “Thanks,” she murmured softly, glancing up at her brother.
“I am glad.” Legolas came around the bed and tenderly kissed her forehead. “Now, go and get a bath, before Father sees you.”With a wicked grin, Fëawen slipped from the room.