Disclaimer: I do not own anything except for Nigel. and frankly, Nigel is enough.

Chapter one: My trousers!

Legolas Greenleaf stopped in his complete lack of tracks (due to his elven skill and light-footedness). The regular stillness of Mirkwood was being broken. Well, Legolas thought to himself, broken was too light a term. It would be more accurate to say that the regular stillness of Mirkwood was being violently shattered into a gazillion pieces, and those pieces were then being stomped on. Something was crashing through the trees up ahead, and from the sound of things, something was also talking to himself. Legolas's sharp ears had no trouble making out the words.

"Damn! My trousers! No mere plant rips the garments of Nigel Pivington Jones and gets away with it! Take that, nettle scum! Ha-HAH!" There was a furious thwacking sound, and the bushes in front of Legolas shook violently. "The thorny scourge has been vanquished! Another victory for Nigel Pivington Jones!" Legolas stepped back a few paces and set an arrow to his bow. Whoever this person was, they sounded insane. And crazy people could be dangerous.

There were more crashing sounds, and a moment later a man dressed in torn khaki clothes and wearing a round hat staggered into the small clearing the Prince was standing in. His hat was askew and his clothes were torn and smeared with dirt and mud, as if he had been reeling through the forest instead of walking like a normal person. He had a whip tucked into his belt, and was carrying a medium-sized stick, which still had a few straggling bits of nettle bush dangling from the end. Legolas pointed his arrow right between the man's eyes. The stranger looked at Legolas, his handlebar moustache bristling with indignation.

"You, there!" The man barked. "Lower your weapon at once! Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?!"

"Nigel Pivington Jones?" Legolas "guessed," raising an eyebrow.

"You've heard of me, then?" Nigel brightened considerably. "That's jolly well encouraging!"

"I heard you crashing through my father's kingdom," Legolas said sternly, his arrow still fixed between the man's eyes. "What business do you have in Mirkwood?"

Nigel Pivington Jones glared regally at Legolas. "My business is absolutely none of yours! Now put up your weapon before I do something you'll regret!"

Legolas bit back a laugh. What exactly did this Nigel person think that he was going to do? If he swung his stick or reached for his whip, Legolas would shoot him in a heartbeat. The advantage was clearly with Legolas. Surely this man could see that...?

"I mean it!" Nigel snapped. "My patience is wearing thin!"

Twenty seconds later, Legolas had tied Nigel Pivington Jones's hands behind his back, and was prodding him towards the palace. Unfortunately, Nigel was not coming quietly. He was, in fact, shouting a string of insults and empty threats.

"Cad!" Nigel roared in outrage. "Treacherous, sneaky villain! You'll pay dearly for this! I have connections! I'll ruin you! I'll ruin you!! I'll bring you to your knees!" Legolas rolled his eyes. He couldn't wait to see what his father would think. Personally, Legolas thought that this lunatic should be locked away in a quiet room where he wouldn't be a threat to himself or others. Soon (although not soon enough for Legolas, whose sensitive ears were starting to hurt) they were within sight of the palace gates. Nigel was still shouting threats. Legolas prodded him across the bridge ("You'll beg for mercy, but you'll get none from me, oho no!"), up the beech-lined path ("You'll never work in this country again, I'll bloody well see to that!"), past the guards ("Cut your hair, ragamuffin!"), and finally through the palace gates ("You'll be a pauper, do you hear me? A paup-where have the lights gone??").

"We have gone underground," Legolas explained, as if Nigel were five years old. Nigel, for his part, starting screaming incomprehensibly, literally hopping with outraged indignation. Legolas pushed him gently into the throne room with a sigh of relief. Nigel continued shouting; he didn't seem to realize that they had stopped and that he was standing before the King. Thranduil shot his son a questioning glance, and Legolas shrugged. After a minute Nigel paused for breath, and Thranduil smoothly interrupted.

"I am King Thranduil of the wood-elves. Who are you, and what business do you have in Mirkwood?"

"Who am I?" Nigel cried. "Who am I?! I am the legendary Nigel Pivington Jones, adventurer and explorer extraordinaire!! I demand that you release me at once!"

"Legendary?" Thranduil raised an eyebrow and smirked. "You are not known to the elves. And you are in no position to be making demands. I asked you what business brings you to Mirkwood, if you recall."

"Business?!" Nigel roared as if the King had asked him about the regularity of his bowel movements or something equally silly and unreasonable. "Business?? I have no business here; I wouldn't even be here at all if this scoundrel hadn't tied me up and forced me to come here! Now do as I say and unhand me, knaves!" Nigel looked like he badly wanted to shake his fist in a threatening manner, but since his hands were tied behind him, he could only feebly wiggle one elbow. He wiggled it.

"It would be in your best interest to treat my son and myself with respect," Thranduil said, his smirk disappearing.

"Respect, you say! Respect! I owe you nothing! Don't you know, I am Nigel Pivington Jones, and none dare stand before me!"

"I find that hard to believe," Legolas said quietly, smirking.

"Oh, do you?" Nigel said craftily. "Well, you are standing behind me, and your father is sitting down!" Nigel Pivington Jones crowed with triumph. Legolas rolled his eyes and moved around so that he was standing in front of the man. Nigel's eyes widened. "I say, stop that at once! I'll kick you!" Nigel aimed a kick at Legolas's shin, but the elf stepped back out of reach.

"What should we do with him?" Legolas asked his father over Nigel's grunts of effort as he continued to try and kick the prince, who continued dodging out of the way. "Should we throw him in the dungeon?"

"The dungeon?" Nigel ceased his efforts and looked a bit worried. "I say, that's rather hard, isn't it?"

"It's where you'll be going if you do not behave yourself," Thranduil said, hiding a grin.

"Behave myself? I am a perfect gentleman! I'm Nigel Pivington Jones, sah!"

"Yes, we know your name," Thranduil said slowly. Legolas had to press his lips together very tightly to keep from laughing.

"Well, then." Nigel said brightly, "untie my hands and I shall display such beautiful manners that you shall be astounded! My manners are legendary!"

"Untie him, Legolas," Thraduil said. Legolas gave his father an incredulous look. He couldn't be serious! This man was insane! He couldn't be allowed to wander the palace freely; he might hurt someone! Thranduil raised his eyebrows, and Legolas sighed heavily. The prince braced himself and untied Nigel's hands.

As soon as he was free, Nigel gave the Prince a hearty shove, pulled his bullwhip from his belt, and gave it a gleeful crack.

"Ha-HAH! No bonds can hold Nigel Pivington Jones! Tallyhooooeeeeeee!!" Nigel sprinted out of the room, cackling.

"Wonderful," Legolas sighed.

"You'd better go fetch him," Thranduil replied.