Disclaimer: None of Tolkien's characters are mine... But I borrow them from time to time so that they can breath fresh air once in awhile... It's good for their health ;)
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TYPHOON
Chapter One - The reward

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The wind was blowing with a low tone, pushing the icy rain against the walls of the fortress... If fortress could of course be a name for the wooden pallissade circling the town of Bree! It was the end of afternoon... but with all the dark clouds gathered, it could have as well been night-time. The walkers outside their houses or bars were looking like the whole city: wet, covered of mud and dirt, and with grim appearance. Nobody seemed particulary happy in this place, but they preferred being there, than running outside... Especially now that orcs had been reported in the area!

Oh, it wasn't any big orcish army! But two or three orcs seen together were enough to scare the nice and clean local population.

Four striders, clad in brown, their cloaks masking their shapes and face, approached the big entrance door - now closed - of Bree. On the side of the door, was hung a wooden sign, showing:

This week's Injury Cases- 603

This week's Murder Cases- 72

The leader knocked a few blows on the old wood of the door. No answered reached them. The leader knocked again, stronger this time.

"All right! All right, I'm here!", an old and tired voice came from the other side. The striders waited a few more (long) seconds, before a little wooden window opened, revealing the careful and ancient face of the watcher. "Who's there?"

"We are four travellers in need of a refuge for the night...", the leader of the striders explained. "And we heard good words about the local tavern, the Prancy Poney."

The watcher almost cackled madly at that phrase, his laugh was soon mixed with a cough that sounded so severe, that the striders feared for an instant that the old man would get a fit and drop dead before opening to them. But the watcher seemed to regain composure, and wiped a tear from his eye. "Ne'er heard 'bout Prancy Poney wiz such qualifications, but...", and the strider heard the various click of the many lockers of the door, a good omen for them, "you 'bviously are not orcs."

The door opened, revealing the bent shape of the watcher, whom years seemed to have bitter taste now. He looked tired, more, worn out by the age, and a light of madness could sometimes be glimpsed in his eyes, but it seemed to the striders that you could expect nothing else from a place like this.

"Come, hence, gentils seigneurs", the watcher motionned them inside the city with a humble bow, badly performed. The leader of the striders only nodded to him and the four of them went on their way towards the tavern. They passed a few mangy rack-'o-bones locals, who burped in their directions, or only turned questionning, but not threatening gaze towards them. Strangers in the town were not unusual now that these times were darker.

As they approached the tavern, the door opened abruptly and a man flew out, crashing into a puddle of mud in the middle of the street. He turned on his back, his face expressing utter pain. He raised a hand towards the walkers.

"Hel... Help... Help me... doc... get a... doctor..."

The four striders mostly ignored him, trying just not to walk on the hurt man, and paid little attention to the conversation running around.

"You are okay?", the voice was from someone who was obviously more polite than really concerned.

"Hey, this guy has so many shards of glasses through him... He doesn't need a doctor... He needs a priest!", another of those happy fellows, a little bit too direct.

Inside the tavern, everybody was cheering, gossiping, drinking, yelling... and fighting sometimes. There was such a high noise, that you could seem stunned when entering the tavern, just by listening to the sound. A young woman, in her mid-twenties, was slalomming among the drinkers to deliver food plates to those who were sit at the various tables of the place. She came back to the bar, in order to take another plate. Her son grabbed her skirt.

"Mom! Buy me a bow!".

The woman turned a tired smile towards the boy. "Tell me what exactly do you have in your hand now?"

The kid barely looked at his toy-bow with rubber-ends arrows, and turned pleading eyes towards his mother. "But it's different! A for real bow, with for real arrows is so much cooler!". The woman rolled her eyes and decided to ignore her son for awhile. She took the tray of food on the bar, and brought it to a young man with mid-long blond hair, and clad in green, sitting by a dirty nearby table. The blond man seemed happy by the 'gift' and promptly started to dig in. The woman realized her son had followed her until that table. "I promise I'll clean out the henhouse everyday. Please, can I?"

Just at that moment, from the corner of her eyes, she noticed that four new persons had entered the tavern. She turned to greet them.

"Welco--"

The four striders greeted her with drawn bows and pointy arrows...

... that they quickly fired where the yound blond man sat. Four arrows hit the table around the plate, exploding the wood with the force of the impact. They had just missed. They quickly reloaded their bows while realisation finally hit the woman, who started to scream. The four striders fired again, and missed again, as the blond one managed to dive clear. An old man nearby cowered under his table.

The striders loaded and fired for many times, breaking or dammaging severely many of the tavern possession, and paying little attention to the screaming and running customers of the tavern. When the commotion stopped, they look closely for their target. In the background, they could hear a little boy crying out loud for his mommy.

Behind a knocked out table, they saw the blond man, lying sprawled face down, a suspicious puddle around his head and chest. One of the striders removed his cap, revealing red curled hair. "Did we do it?"

Their leader said nothing at first, then his shoulders started shuddering.

"Heeee heheheheheheheheheeehehehehehehehehe..."

This puzzled the other three for awhile, until their leader's voice grew. "BWAAAAAAAAAAAAH HA HA HA HA HAR! HAR! HAR! HAR! HAR! HAR! HAR! HAH! HAH! HAH! HAH! HAH! HAH! HAH! HAH!". He quickly removed his cap, revealing dark hair almost blue, and a long sinuous scar on his face starting from the middle of his forehead until the left side of his jaw.

"WE MADE IT!!!", he yelled with joy, "For us, the 120.000 golden pieces!!!!"

"Our names will be famous accross all Middle-Earth, won't they?", the red-haired strider giggled.

"No shit!", answered a third strider, revealing a young boyish face with short blond hair. "Legolas Greenleaf, the elven typhoon fell into the backwater of Bree! It will be in all the newsparchmins!!!"

Only one of the striders was remaining silent and not sharing the joy of his comrads. He was still staring at their fallen target with jaws clenched.

The leader turned to him. "What's up, Myzer?"

Myzer remained silent.

The yound red haired strider approached him and circled his shoulders with his right arm. "Ain't ya being over careful? See all that blood? Even if he was still breathing, he ain't goin' nowhere..."

Myzer finally relaxed and decided to put aside the cautious voice inside of him, which was screaming. He wandered up the corpse, crouched near it and turned him on his back to look at him closely. It would have been safe had he not done that, for a long thin blade was now put on his throat. He froze.

Behind him, none of the three striders seemed to have noticed the "resurrection" of their target. They were actually talking to the owner of the tavern.

"Oi, oi. Mister... Don't look so down. The damages? We'll rebuild this whole place, if ya want!", Gino, the red haired strider, explained. A voice raised behind them. "Really?"

Gino didn't turn towards the speaker. He just shrugged his shoulders. "Of course, we are swimming in golden pools right now afterall!"

But Fratt, the blond strider, turned and froze. Gino saw him swallowing with difficulty, and himself turned...

To see the supposedly-dead elf who "ain't goin' nowhere" standing with arm slung companionably around a petrified Myzer. "That's just peachy! I was very worried about it.", the blond elf had a sweet, concerned, and happy smile accross his face.

Loussard, the dark-haired leader of the striders, sniffed a little, making a step closer to the elf. "... you stink of tomatoes..."

Legolas raised a bowl of tomatoe soup, now broken. "The second I fell, I was holding this bowl... I was so hungry I couldn't leave it on the table, and let anybody steal it while I had to dodge your arrows... Would you be nice enough to pay my cleaning bill too?". His smile was innocent and sincere.

Gino took another arrow from his quiver. "Nah. I've decided on something else. YOU'LL JUST HAVE TO DEAL WITH A ONE-WAY TICKET TO THE HALL OF MANDOS!!!"

More arrows flew. The tavern owner hid behind his bar. The waitress and her child stared in shock, unmoving. The elf had a little bow in his hand, and a quiet look on his face...

... and the striders had a whole lot of suction cup arrows all over their faces-- at least one of which on each was dead-centered of their foreheads.

"Rash. Waaaay to rash", Legolas sighed. "Hey, let's not jump to conclusions, kay? What say we talk this out?"

Scarry Loussard grinned his teeth in frustration. "Just what the hell are you?"

The elf raised suprised eyebrow. "Do I gotta? I always get so embarrassed when I have to introduce myself.", he blushed a little, in a faint way only bad actors could do. "But if I must though....", he then jumped on a table, staring at them all from his high position. "I'd daresay I'm a peaceful hunter. One who chases the elusive mayfly of beauty... or somesuch."

All the striders had jaws dropping to the floor. Gino yelled: "HE'S *TOYING* WITH US??!!!", muttering: "or somesuch"..? What the f&%#?!". Fratt elbowed him.

"Quit it, stupid!"

"I'll KILL HIM!!!!!", Gino's face was tuning red with rage. Fratt elbowed him again - stronger this time. "Do you like living? He could have killed us a minute ago! This time he might do it for real!". Legolas looked quietly to Gino's flushed face. "Alright, alright! If ya wanna shoot, go ahead and shoot! I shall not move, I swear. If you miss me this close...", he added.

Fratt turned pleading look towards the elf. "UWAAA~~ Don't provoke him!"

Gino went for an arrow in his quiver, but his hand met only air. A puzzled look appeared on his face.

"I knew I had nothing to be scared of...", the elf went on, jumping from the table. "You know why? Except for my friend here", he circled again a distraught Myzer's shoulders with his arms, "You're all out of ammo!"

Gino clenched his jaws again, his complexion turning to a mad purple. "How did you know that?"

"I counted the impacts on the floor, walls, tables, and chairs.", was Greenleaf's simple reply.

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Rain stopped, and the sky cleared...

... and all four Striders left town to walk off into the sunset though they were in nothing but their boxers. Everything else of theirs, including their clothes, weapons, and dignity were now lying in a pile before the tavern owner.

"I think this should pay enough for the dammages they did", Legolas turned towards the kid and handed him back his toy-bow. "Here you go, kiddo. It was a big help."

The child was speechless from joy. An old man approached the elf. "You have quite the impressive talent, sonny. Have you lived long that way? Never shooting?"

The elf turned towards him with a soft smile on his features. "Yup, yup. For the price of one well balanced arrow, I can eat four bowls of tomatoes soup!". The old man was puzzled by that simple truth. The elf went on: "Well, that may be a bit of a joke, but whoever it may be, people don't like pain, right? So I decided it was better not to have any casualties."

The old man looked up at Legolas with disbelief in his eyes, and awe too... Then the bartender walked to them.

"Uhm... I'm sorry, but..."

Legolas turned a questionned look towards the owner, who didn't seem very at ease at the though of what he'd have to tell the elf - eventhough the elf had prooved his pacific state of mind.

"I made the count... This", he showed the pile of the striders' former possessions, "will not pay for all the dammages". Legolas sighed. Of course, what to expect from four clumsy striders? But what could he do? Himself had very few money...

But the owner knew something he could do. That elf was probably known from the folks of Rivendell... He'd send them a note explaining that four striders who wanted to kill the elf, had brought havok to his place. Perhaps the lord of Rivendell would pay him for the dammages, eventually catching the four striders later, to be put under the elven justices. After all, they tried to kill one of the fair firstborns!

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Aragorn was in a town, three days away from Bree, when he received a bird from Rivendell, carrying a note from Elrond for him. Eowyn entered the room where he was, as he enfolded the note. "A note from Elrond", he explained simply, a dark look reaching his eyes. He never liked these messages. They always carried bad news.

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' Dear son,
I received a message from the city of Bree. Though I could not understand most of the words used (the person who wrote the note seemed to be an insult for all grammatical Westron rules), I got the overall idea from the few words I could understand.

It seems that Legolas Greenleaf was in a tavern called the Prancy Poney, and brought havok there. The owner asks me for 1.547 golden pieces to repair his place.

I sent a note to Lothlorien to persuade them to raise the reward. Know now that the reward on Legolas' head is 121.457 golden piece.

I just hope you and Eowyn will catch him soon. It would be great to get me reimbursed of all the bills I paid to all the complainers, and put this dangerous criminals into a locked place.

Much love,

Elrond.'

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[TO BE CONTINUED]


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All riiiiiiiiight, just a little fic I wanted to do after a long hard day... I needed to change my mind ;-)
This is just a pilote. If you like it, I'll continue it :)))

Have a nice and funny day ;-)

::Roselyne::