Gimli had to stand on his toes to look through the window that was in the door of Interrogation Room Three. There was Shagrat, singing like a canary, and there was the Elf.
"What the fuck is this?!" Gimli demanded, throwing the door open with so much forced it slammed against the wall behind it, "You're on a role, aren't you?"
Legolas looked at the angry Dwarf in utter confusion.
"Excuse me?" He asked.
"No, I'm not going to excuse you. I just spent the last thirty minutes thinking of ways to kill you." Gimli turned to Shagrat, "Is he your lawyer? Got some Greenwood arsehole in a tacky suit up here to play footsies with the fine print? Who's paying for this shit? Because Elves won't even get out of bed unless you're going to give them thirty fucking emeralds and a stag made of platinum. Did he give his hourly rates beforehand, or is he trying to scam you?"
Shagrat shook his head and refused to make eye contact with anyone in the room.
"I'm Special Agent Legolas Greenleaf, of the Major Crimes unit," Legolas said calmly, "Can I help you, somehow?"
"Absolutely you can help." Gimli nodded, "You can gather up your basket of flowers and your terrible attitude, and get all of it the fuck out here. This is my room, and you need to leave."
Legolas looked at Shagrat, who was still pointedly not looking at anything, and tried to figure out what was happening.
"Were you about to be questioned by a detective?" He asked Gimli.
"He is a detective." Shagrat said.
"I am a detective." Gimli repeated.
"He arrested me."
"I fucking arrested him."
"Ah!" Legolas nodded knowingly, "You're Gloinson. Of course. I should have realized you'd be a Dwarf. I understand now. Well, Shagrat here will be continuing on with me for—"
"No." Gimli said.
"Yes. The EBI was asked to take over the case by the Justice—"
"That's not going to happen."
"Your efforts are duly noted, and the cooperation of this department will be reflected in my report," Legolas tapped the files on the table, "So, if you could shut the door on the way out…"
Gimli nodded. "Aye, I'll shut the door. You lie down on the floor with your head right in the middle here, and I'll slam the door. One-thousand-seven-hundred-and-fifty times. How's that?"
"You should run," Shagrat whispered to Legolas.
"You should shut your trap." Gimli said to Shagrat.
"You should run like you're on fire," Shagrat whispered, "Because he's crazy."
"You should be quiet." Legolas said.
Gimli stretched his neck one way and then the other, and cracked his knuckles.
"Okay. We'll settle this outside."
"I'm not going outside." Legolas shook his head.
"Then we'll settle it inside." Gimli nodded and shut the door behind him. He pulled off his heavy leather coat and did a few more stretches.
Legolas was stunned. He called over his shoulder to the two-way mirror:
"Could somebody please remove this… individual from the interrogation room?"
"I'm going to hit you." Gimli explained.
Legolas stood up and smiled.
"You're not going to hit me."
"I am. I'm going to punch those hideous braids out of your fucking hair."
"Are you aware that Elves have reflexes completely unlike—"
"Doesn't matter. Being hit in the groin is a bit of an equalizer, laddie. Dwarf, Man, Elf, everyone's the same once they've taken a shot to the beets." Gimli prepared his fist, and Legolas prepared to block.
When Captain Brand strolled in with his tankard of coffee, he found Agent Greenleaf rolling around on the floor with Detective Gloison holding him in a headlock. Greenleaf had a handful of Gloinson's beard and was pulling with considerable ferocity.
"Ow! Ow! Ow!" Cried Gimli.
"What is wrong with you?!" Shouted Legolas, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"
Brand watched for awhile, took a few sips of coffee, wondered about the choices he had made in his life that had led him to this moment, and finally said:
"That's enough. Both of you, in my office. Now."
Gimli looked in the pockets of the coat that was hanging on a peg by the captain's office door, but they were empty.
"Nah," he shook his head, "They're not in there."
"Gimli," Brand said patiently, "There was nothing I could do. The EBI took this case and—"
The Dwarf started picking up files in the Captain's outbox. "Maybe they're in here."
Legolas watched from a chair across from Brand's, as Gimli continued to rifle through every nook and cranny in the room. "Sorry, what is he doing?"
Captain Brand let out a tired sigh.
"He's looking for my balls."
Gimli opened up the office door and called into the noise of the bullpen:
"If anybody finds the captain's balls, could you let me know?" This was greeted by a few nods and dreary expressions, "They're very tiny. Wee little balls. Like hobbit balls, but smaller. Much, much smaller. Like a pea. Like a couple of peas. Or a mouse's balls, but half that size. Incredibly tiny. If you find them, give them back. Because he lost them."
"Knock it off, Gimli." Brand said; Gimli shut the door and turned to look at him.
"Cop of the year, Captain. That's what you are. Everybody knows you have their back."
"That's not very professional." Legolas observed.
Gimli kicked the Elf's briefcase.
"Sorry, was that not professional?" He asked, then picked up the case and emptied out its contents on the office floor, "Is it not professional to mess up your purse, either?"
"It's not a purse. It's an attaché."
Captain Brand and Gimli exchanged confused looks.
"What the fuck is an attaché?"
"Take a walk, Gimli. Cool down." Brand ordered.
"Yeah. I'll go see if you left your balls outside, maybe." The Dwarf marched out of the office and slammed the door behind him, with so loud a noise that both Captain Brand and Legolas winced.
The Elf began picking his things up off the floor.
"This job is destroying me," Brand shook his head, "Do you know how old I am?"
Legolas looked at the man's drawn, tired face and tried to guess.
"Sixty-three?"
"I'm thirty-eight years old."
"Elves are not – as a people we can't really guess ages. Well. Because… of reasons."
"This city is a shithole. I come from a line of saviors of a shithole."
"So, anyway," Legolas looked away, clearly uncomfortable, "If you could do everything in your power to keep that mad Dwarf away from me…"
He patted his pockets, then looked inside his briefcase. His eyes were wide and worried.
"Gloinson stole your keys, didn't he?"
"Yes. It appears he did. Do you know where I can find him?"
"Tavern downtown called Iron Folk's." Brand looked Legolas up and down, "If you're going to go in, you might want to wear some mithril."