From time to time a reader will ask me to do a story about the bond between Legolas and Glorfindel, so here is one that explores it. It is not, however, an elfling story (although in it I refer several times to the story "Dining Out", which is an elfling story). This story also refers to a time when Aragorn and Legolas stayed at the Prancing Pony in Bree, an incident that is described in Chapters 41 and 42 of "Things Fall Apart". Also, the story Glorfindel tells about leprechauns is based on the one that he told in Chapter 2 of "To the West".

Finally, in a couple of paragraphs I quote from Charles Darwin's On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection. Kudos to the reader who can locate the quotations and the chapter that is the source.

Beta reader: None. There will only be two chapters, and I only trouble Dragonfly to review whichever story is my long-term one (currently Parallel Quest).

"I am glad you trust me now, Legolas."

Legolas looked up from his plate, surprised.

"You look puzzled," said Glorfindel.

"Yes, for we were talking of nothing in particular, and suddenly you say that you are glad I trust you. What made you think of that?"

Glorfindel gestured around their campsite. "I was thinking of the first time we made camp together. Do you remember the occasion?"

Legolas laughed. "Yes! I was but newly arrived at Rivendell. Although Elrond pretended otherwise, he already knew that the elfling Mithrandir had entrusted to his care was a runaway from Greenwood. When a messenger arrived from that place, Elrond ordered you to take me into the woods so that I might not be discovered."

"Yes, but you thought I was a character in one of those books you were always reading—that I was taking you into the woods to do away with you! What is it that you said? Ah, yes, that if I meant to cut out your heart, would I please slay you first."

"Well, in the fairytales of Men, it seemed that the evil monarch always commanded that the child's heart be brought back as proof that the deed had been done. I thought it should be dreadful if you commenced the operation whilst I was still conscious!"

Glorfindel laughed and shook his head. "I am certainly glad that you have learned to tell the difference between fact and fiction."

Legolas joined in the laughter. "Yes," he agreed. "In those days I was enthralled by the stories of Men, with all their quaint notions—unicorns, basilisks, phoenixes, centaurs, and suchlike. Now I realize that the real world is every bit as enthralling. Its inhabitants may seem humdrum and ordinary because they are so familiar to us, but, really, Trolls, Dwarves, and Goblins are such droll creatures."

"When they are not killing us," Glorfindel said dryly.

"Oh, putting that aside, their customs are peculiar and therefore fascinating. Indeed, even the most commonplace of creatures may present itself in the most remarkable manner. Think you, Glorfindel: Is it not interesting to contemplate an entangled bank, clothed with many plants of many kinds, with birds singing on the bushes, with various insects flitting about, and with worms crawling through the damp earth, and to reflect upon these elaborately constructed forms, so different from each other, and dependent on each other in so complex a manner? Look about you, Glorfindel! Are there not endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful?"

Glorfindel did look about, and all at once he saw Arda anew, in such a fashion as he had not seen it for millennia. It was possible, he suddenly understood, for an Elf to become jaded. He nodded. "You are right, Legolas. There is grandeur in this view of life. I have lived in Middle-earth for many ages, and my familiarity with the place has caused me to no longer notice the marvels it contains. Thank you for the gift of new eyes."

Legolas smiled with delight. It was true that he no longer feared Glorfindel, but he had not lost his awe of the twice-born balrog slayer, and a compliment from the elf-lord meant much to the younger Elf.

Glorfindel laughed gently at the expression upon his young friend's face. "Legolas, Elrond and Mithrandir have always been of the opinion that in some respects you will forever be an elfling. I believe they are correct, and I am glad. For it is not the childishness that you have preserved but the childlikeness: the ability to find wonder in the world. Middle-earth will always be a place of marvels as long as you dwell here."

Legolas smiled even more deeply, and Glorfindel laughed again. He clapped the younger Elf upon the shoulder and then arose. "We should break camp if we are to make Bree by nightfall."

Legolas picked up the plates and made for a nearby stream. As he knelt down to rinse the dishes, he hummed to himself. He felt grateful to his father for allowing him to make this visit to Eriador, however brief it had to be. He was especially happy that Glorfindel had decided to accompany him on his trek to the Shire. From Bree the two Elves would go to Buckland. There Glorfindel would remain on the east bank of the Baranduin whilst Legolas crossed into the Shire and made his way to Hobbiton. He had done so once before in order to pay a visit to Gandalf's friend Bilbo. Now Bilbo dwelt in Rivendell, and Gandalf had asked Legolas to check on Bilbo's nephew, Frodo, who had inherited Bilbo's house, Bag End, and all his property.

"You know the way, my lad," the wizard had said, "and as I am not as popular in the Shire as I used to be, I think it would be best if you would undertake this journey. I would go myself if I had no alternative, but you are far better than I at slipping in and out of places unobtrusively."

"Do you have a message for me to deliver to him?"

"No particular message, Laiqua. Simply check on his welfare. See how he is getting on. How is his health? Is he in good spirits?"

As always, Legolas was curious about Gandalf's fascination with the Shire in general and his interest in the Baggins family in particular. However, the Elf knew from long experience that the wizard would refuse to answer any questions on the subject. So he merely nodded and set about packing his kit. Whilst he was so occupied, he was joined by Glorfindel.

"Mithrandir tells me that you are journeying to the Shire."

"Yes. He wants me to pay a visit to Frodo, Bilbo's nephew."

"Ah, yes. Did he say why?"

"As usual, no."

"Curious," murmured Glorfindel. "Legolas, when Bilbo arrived here a little while ago, he looked far younger than his years, but then at once he began to age."

"Bilbo is a mortal. Why shouldn't he age?"

"Legolas, I was here when Mithrandir, Bilbo, and their Dwarf companions arrived on their outgoing journey, and I was here when less than a year later Mithrandir and Bilbo came back from Erebor. It was over fifty years later that Bilbo returned to take up residence here. He did not look one wit older than the day he first visited this place. I have met enough Periannath to know that this is not usual."

"There is something to what you say," Legolas said slowly. "When I last visited the Shire, it was when Bilbo still lived there. I did notice that he seemed remarkably youthful when compared with his age-mates. Perhaps during his journey to and fro Erebor he imbibed some potion that had a salutary effect upon his health. Ent draughts were said to have been very powerful. Perhaps he drank something of the sort."

"That is possible," conceded Glorfindel, "but why would the effects of the potion wear off when he left the Shire?"

"Are you suggesting that some quality of the Shire itself accounted for Bilbo's lack of aging when he dwelt in that place? Yet if so, why is its influence not felt by the other inhabitants of that land?"

Glorfindel shook his head. "I do not think it is a potion. Nor do I think it is something about the Shire itself."

"What then could it be?"

"I do not know, but whatever the cause, I suspect it is somehow tied up with Mithrandir's interest in that place."

Legolas laughed. "Why, Glorfindel, you are as curious as I about Mithrandir's doings."

"Yes, to the extent that they have bearing upon your well-being."

"My well-being?"

"Legolas, haven't you noticed that Danger is Mithrandir's most frequent companion—followed hard on its heels by Death?"

"I won't be in Mithrandir's company, Glorfindel—and therefore will not be in the company of Danger and Death."

"If you are drawn into his business, then you will have no choice but to become acquainted with these friends of his. You know this to be true from your own experience."

Legolas had to admit that Glorfindel was right. Still, he tried to brush off his friend's concerns. "Glorfindel, even if I were to remain in the vicinity of Imladris, I might still encounter danger. These are perilous times, and grow even more perilous with the passage of every month. And at least I am journeying to the Shire and not to some more fearsome destination."

"True. Ne'ertheless, I mean to accompany you."

Legolas was torn between vexation at the fact that Glorfindel thought he needed a minder and delight at the prospect of being able to enjoy his friend and mentor's company for the space of time it would take to journey to the Shire and back. In the end, delight won out.

"I don't think you need trouble yourself, Glorfindel, but I shall be glad of your company."

Two weeks later, they were breaking camp in a copse not far from the Great East Road. They had ridden this far at a slow pace, the fall weather being so fine that they had no desire to hasten to their destination. Now they would leave their horses to graze until the return journey—elven horses can be trusted to look after themselves—and would go on to Bree on foot so as to attract less attention.

Near their campsite they hid most of their gear. "I hope the accommodations at the Prancing Pony will be as good as formerly," said Legolas, remembering back to the time that he had visited the inn in company with Aragorn.

"Mithrandir has been there recently and affirms that it is," observed Glorfindel. "Of course," the balrog-slayer added wryly, "since he has spent a considerable number of nights sleeping under hedgerows, he is easily satisfied as to accommodations."

Legolas smiled as he slung his lightened pack over his shoulder and stepped out into the road at the side of his friend. For several hours they had the highway to themselves. Then they came upon a small band of Men eating their noon meal at the side of the road. The Men hailed them and invited them to join their company. Smiling agreeably, Glorfindel and Legolas slung off their packs and sat cross-legged. They drew bread and cheese from their packs and offered to share them with the Men, who in exchange offered them cold meat and pickles.

"You elvish wights are on the road much more than formerly," said one of the Men as they ate. "Is it true that the Elves are leaving this land for good?"

"Some Elves are," Glorfindel said.

The Man glanced at their packs.

"You are not carrying much," he observed.

"We are, as you see, afoot. We carry only such items as are necessary."

"I always heard tell that Elves had treasure," said the Man. "Odd that none of the Elves we see passing through are burdened overmuch. Are they leaving their treasure behind?"

"I think you must be thinking of Dwarves," Legolas interjected. "Elves do not hoard treasure; Dwarves do."

"No, it was Elves I heard of," insisted the Man. "They keep gold in pots what can be found at the ends of rainbows."

Legolas struggled not to laugh, and Glorfindel stepped into the breach. "That is not a story about Elves," Glorfindel said mildly. "It is about another folk—an imaginary folk. They are supposed to be a little people who dress all in green and live in mounds. Should you stumble into their realm and partake of their food and drink, you will be trapped therein, and when you emerge you will have aged not a day, but all your kin will have died long since."

"Aye, I have heard such a story about little folk," said one of the Men. "And there was a pot of gold in it. Warn't nothing to do with Elves."

The first Man shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. It is true, though, that none of the Elves who pass through Bree carry much in the way of goods."

The Man fell silent, and conversation passed on to other matters. From time to time, though, Legolas caught the Man staring at their packs, and the Elf felt uneasy. He was glad when the meal ended and they resumed their journey, although now in the company of the Men. "Cannot we trail behind and so be shut of them," he whispered to Glorfindel. "It would be better if we entered Bree in their company," the balrog-slayer replied softly. "'Twill distract attention from us."

Legolas fell silent. In any event, they would soon arrive at Bree and would go their own way. As night fell, they did indeed approach that village. Once past the gates, the Men went off to the house of a townsman. They invited the Elves to accompany them, but Glorfindel politely declined, saying that they had already bespoke a room at the Prancing Pony. This was not, strictly speaking, true, but Gandalf had assured the travelers that if they mentioned his name at this establishment, they would be accommodated.

Soon they stood before a building over whose door hung a sign with a pony painted upon it. Both light and song poured through its windows. Glorfindel and Legolas looked at each other and grinned. "Mithrandir has not led us astray," Legolas said cheerfully as Glorfindel laid his hand upon the door and pushed it open. Inside, a portly Man bustled up to them, one towel slung over his shoulder and another in his hands, which he wiped busily. "How may I serve you, masters?" he beamed. "Beer mayhap? We have stouts, ales, porters. Perhaps you would prefer a cider? We have both dry and sweet. Apple brandy, too. And we have perry! Also mead. We have all sorts: short mead and great mead, of course. And metheglen, or cyser, as some folk call it. And black mead and brackett and pyment and hypocras and sack and—"

"Wine, if you please," Glorfindel interrupted the recitation, smiling at the Man's earnest cheerfulness.

"Oh, wine, to be sure!" exclaimed the Man, who was none other than the proprietor, one Bartholomew Butterbur. "You be Fair Folk, and they do favor wine above all beverages. Hey, Barley," he called to a man of thirty or thereabouts. "That's my son Barliman," the proprietor said proudly to his guests. "He'll see you seated and served. Supper's still laid on, so you ask for anything you please."

"Thank you," said Glorfindel. "And after we have supped, we should like a room. Our friend Gandalf has said," he continued, using the name that the wizard went by in these parts, "that excellent accommodations are to be had in this establishment."

Butterbur beamed so brightly that for a moment Legolas thought his face might burst into flame. Then the Man looked troubled. "Oh, dear, I am forgetting. All the man-sized rooms are taken." Suddenly he cheered. "However, I do have a hobbit-sized room available for a price in keeping with its dimensions. The bed would be too short for you folks, but I could shift some furniture about so as to lay longer pallets upon the floor. You'd be comfortable enough I warrant. But mind you stand up carefully, for the ceiling is low at points!"

Glorfindel said that these accommodations would be agreeable, and Butterbur's son led them to a table, where they dined very well upon a meat pie that they washed down with red wine of a good vintage. Following this they each enjoyed a dish of a very fine custard, which for good measure was topped with a generous dollop of cream. "Oh, my," sighed Glorfindel as he pushed away his now empty dish. "I feel very unelflike at the moment. In fact, I feel as stout as a Troll!"

"Well," laughed Legolas, "you shall be living rough for several days on the banks of the Baranduin, so it is only right that you 'stock up', so to speak."

"Ah, yes, the Baranduin, or the Brandywine as they call it hereabouts. But I do not think I shall be 'living rough'. Mithrandir assures me that lately the fishing has been very good, so I have brought tackle in the pack that those Men found so unsubstantial. A fine mess of fish, dressed with mushrooms, that's the sort of thing I mean to dine on. You, on the other hand, shall have to resign yourself to potatoes at every meal. You do know that the potato is the staple of the Shire, don't you?"

"Yes, but I also know that the Hobbits are as creative as our Cook when it comes to preparing the tuber so that one may eat it day after day without tiring of it."

"Ah, the Cook," smiled Glorfindel. "I believe he once catechized you in all the different ways of preparing potatoes."

"Yes," Legolas smiled in return. "It was soon after my arrival at Rivendell. In Greenwood I was used to getting food from the kitchen rather than eating at table. When I tried to help myself to breakfast in Elrond's kitchen, however, the Cook drove me off."

"He was used to the depredations of Elrohir and Elladan," Glorfindel observed, "and thought you to be the same sort of miscreant."

"Yes, but I would not be discouraged. Again and again I tried to creep into the kitchen; again and again, waving the tools of his trade, he chased me out. Finally he caught me hiding in a basket of potatoes. 'I'll serve you like a potato,' he cried. 'I'll peel you! I'll roast you! Boil you! Dip you in oil and fry you! Aye, and mash you to boot!' Terrified, I fled out of the kitchen, past the garden, and through the gate. I didn't stop until I was deep in the woods."

"Where," Glorfindel continued the story, "you dined on leaves, berries, mushrooms, and nuts that looked like ones with which you were familiar."

"Only it turned out that plants in Imladris that look the same as ones in Mirkwood are anything but!"

"Elrond has told me of how you staggered back to the Hall in great distress—"

"And threw up my makeshift breakfast at his feet!"

The two friends laughed. Then they quieted as Butterbur's son drew near. "Your room is ready, masters," he said. The two arose and followed the young Man. As they left the Common Room, Legolas noticed that the Man who had spoken of treasure had arrived and sat in the corner with a group of rough looking Men.

Butterbur's son led them to a chamber on the ground floor. The Elves had to duck to enter through its round door, but once within they saw that they would be comfortable enough. The bedstead had been upended and its frame leaned against the wall, and in its place two thick pallets had been placed upon the floor. The pillows were generous, as were the quilts. Moreover, they were clean and in good repair, something that could not be said of the bedding in every inn. (Upon closer inspection, they also proved to be vermin-free, another quality not always to be found in hostel bedding.)

They slept well indeed, save for one incident during the night. Into Legolas's sleep came a small creaking sound. Instantly he was awake. He sat up and saw that the door was slightly ajar. "Who's there," he called. No one answered. He arose and went to the door and looked into the corridor. "Is anyone there?" Glorfindel said behind him. Legolas turned around and saw that his companion stood knife in hand. "No one," Legolas said. "Perhaps the wind blew the door ajar."

"It's a heavy door," Glorfindel said doubtfully, "and the window is closed."

Legolas closed the door and turned the key, a precaution they had not taken earlier. Then he lay back down upon his pallet. "The Man who was so interested in our packs, he was in the Common Room," he mused.

"Aye, I saw him."

"Do you suppose he was trying to get into the room just now?"

"He it the one who noticed that our packs were lightly laden," Glorfindel pointed out. "Why should he try to steal nearly empty packs?"

"Even a small quantity of gold would be valuable," Legolas replied. "We should be bearing a fortune on our backs even if our packs contained only a pittance. Indeed, it may be the very lightness of our packs that persuades the Man that we carry something valuable within. Besides," Legolas added, "it would be impossible to carry more than a few bars of gold. Even assuming that one could stand up under the weight, the straps would give way. Surely the Man would know this."

"So," said Glorfindel, smiling wryly, "the fact that we carry nothing of value is no protection against marauders who will assume that we do. You are right. We had better be more cautious."

The next morning they rose before dawn, meaning to slip away from Bree without their movements being observed. They dressed by the light of a candle and quietly entered the Common Room and roused the servant who dozed by the banked fire. "We would like to settle our account," Glorfindel told the boy. "Fetch your master, if you please."

A little while later a groggy Butterbur stumbled into the room. "Alas, masters," he lamented, "I did not know you meant to set out so early, else I would have told the Cook to arise and prepare breakfast for you."

"Do not fret, Master Butterbur. It will be enough if your servant fetches us some cold meat from the kitchen."

The boy was dispatched to fetch such cold foods as were available, and he returned with two large parcels wrapped in paper and well secured with twine. Legolas suspected that there was enough for several meals, and, indeed, his pack felt much heavier once his slipped his portion inside it. 'More valuable than gold', he thought with satisfaction. 'Gold you cannot eat!'

The sun was just rising as they returned to the road, and to the Elves' relief, there was no sign of any of the Men from the previous day. A groom mucking out the stable and a boy carrying a bucket of water were the only folk they saw. They kept to the highway until they were out of sight of the village, and then they turned north, making for Buckland. As the day grew warm, they stopped in the shade of an oak tree and broke fast. As Legolas had suspected, their parcels contained much more food than could be eaten at one sitting. "I think," Legolas laughed, "that you will not need to fish for your supper just yet!"

When the two travelers neared the bridge that Legolas would cross to enter the Shire, they were careful to get under cover. Gandalf was anxious that it not be known that an Elf was visiting Frodo. "Amongst the folk of Hobbiton—indeed, perhaps in the Shire as a whole—Frodo has gotten a reputation for being odd," Gandalf had explained to Legolas. "He is much talked of in the taverns and inns thereabouts. My visits are one reason for his reputation, but visits from an Elf will hardly improve matters. Therefore, my lad, be discrete."

By and by they found a likely campsite where they hid their packs before making their way to the bridge. Glorfindel was to distract the guards whilst Legolas slipped across. When they arrived at the bridge, however, they found the distraction would be unnecessary. Both the guards were asleep, their snores audible from the forest verge. Legolas was torn between amusement and alarm. "Mithrandir is not going to like this," he observed to Glorfindel. "He has always wanted the Shire to be well watched."

"As it is," came a familiar voice.

"Halbarad!" exclaimed Legolas, a little embarrassed that neither he nor Glorfindel had realized that they were being watched.

"The same," said the laconic Ranger, breaking cover. "You breathe so loudly," he added, "I could have shot you in the dark."

Legolas grinned at the mock insult, which Halbarad knew full well was one that novices flung at one other. "Why, Halbarad," he retorted, "I have never known you to be so full of witticisms."

Glorfindel made a show of sighing. "Younglings," he grumbled. Then he, too, smiled. "I am glad I shall have someone to share my camp with while young Legolas here is off enjoying Hobbit hospitality."

Halbarad shook his head. "No, now you are here, I shall move on. We are few and spread thin. We do our best to safeguard the Shire, but I am afraid that a determined enemy would not find it difficult to slip past us. Tell Gandalf that."

The Elves promised that they would, and Halbarad vanished back into the forest. As for Legolas, he strode past the sleeping guards, who did not even twitch as he passed, and made for a copse on the far side of the river. Within a few minutes, he, too, had vanished.