Chapter 9 Of Snowballs and Spooks.

Usual disclaimer, yada yada... The Tolkien estate, Peter Jackson, New Line etc. etc. own the real thing, I just own my Ocs, and am only having (profit-free) fun.

This chapter is a bit of fluff to satisfy requests (including my own) to know a bit more about how Legolas is getting on with his new human friends. But it will move the plot along a little bit.

The previous month had passed surprisingly quickly. Legolas had begun to pick up English very rapidly, partly because he already spoke a number of languages, so the business of learning a new one was familiar to him, and partly because the Christmas holiday had intervened, leaving Helena at home with plenty of time on her hands to teach him chess and English (in that order). It should be explained that her parents were "skiing" - spending the kids' inheritance – and were away on a foreign holiday. Since she did not particularly get on with her sister-in-law, she had opted to stay in Oxford for Christmas. Helena also spent quite a lot of time working, trying to find the theory behind Legolas's appearance, in the hope that they might be able to help him back to his own world. While she studied, Legolas systematically worked his way through her CD collection.

They had also spent a rather memorable (or in Helena's case, largely forgotten) New Year's Eve at Lottie and Tom's house. Legolas had rapidly grasped the idea that this particular tradition involved drinking a great deal, but had lacked a sufficient grasp on the English language to explain that he was impervious to alcohol (at least in the quantities dwarves and humans were capable of handling). Even if his English had been good enough, his sense of humour would probably have stopped him imparting this information. The end result was that Tom, Matt and Jonathan had ended up in an inert heap on the floor, Lottie had informed Legolas that he was "vair, vair beautiful," but that she "luffed Tom," and Legolas had had to carry Helena home. He put her to bed fully clothed and pulled the quilt over her, and was suitably solicitous the next morning, bringing her orange juice as she nursed the hangover from hell. He even managed to restrain himself from laughing at her until her headache had begun to subside.

Today, the sun had come up to reveal an Oxford covered in snow. It was a Saturday, and for once Lottie was not working or on call, so they had all gone to Headington hill with a sledge. Legolas found himself thinking once more that, in the absence of war and dire struggle (the circumstances which had formed most of his experience) mortal men were actually very like hobbits in their enthusiasm for ridiculous pastimes. The sledging had morphed seamlessly into a fantastic and prolonged snowball fight.

At one point Matt and Tom watched as Helena and Lottie tried to sneak up on Legolas, large handfuls of snow at the ready. They could see from the faint upward quirk of Legolas' mouth that he knew exactly what the two were up to. Just as they were about to pounce, he turned with incredible speed, tucked them under his arms and whirled them round and round while they squealed, before dropping them into a snow drift. He sauntered over to the two men.

"Jeez, you're strong. To think that before we knew who you were, I tried to kip on the floor to keep an eye on Helena. It seems really ridiculous now," said Tom.

"I thought so at the time," said Legolas with a raised eyebrow and the hint of a smile, "But I thought it was a very nice thing for you to do."

"You mean you knew that's why I was there?" said Tom, shocked.

"Yes, it was not hard to guess," said Legolas with a broader smile. "Excuse me, though, I think I have unfinished business." And he took off after the two women, who, realising they were being chased, tactically headed off in opposite directions. Legolas chose to sprint after Helena, catching her rapidly and then stuffing snow down her collar while she yelled. He stopped, and she started to laugh, an infectious laugh which he soon joined in with. He couldn't help it; she looked silly and endearing in equal measures, a broad grin on her face and cheeks and nose bright red with the cold. For her part, Helena found herself reminded of the more annoying features of her big brother.

Some hours later, they all gathered in Tom and Lottie's kitchen. Jonathan had returned from another fruitless day chasing up Tolkien's correspondence in the library, and he and Matt were snuggled on a bean bag. Lottie and Tom were cooking spaghetti, and Helena and Legolas were playing chess.

"Check mate."

Lottie and Matt suddenly turned to pay attention to the board. For it was not Helena who had spoken.

"Holy shit, you just beat Helena at chess," said Matt. "No one does that."

"Bugger," said Helena, "I'm going to have to start concentrating."

"I think I would like that," said Legolas. "I like contests to be a bit of a challenge." He looked at her, meeting her eyes with a direct gaze, giving her one of his faint smiles. Helena wasn't sure how good she was getting at reading his somewhat minimalist facial expressions, but she could have sworn this smile held a mixture of arrogance and something she could only describe as cockiness. She raised an eyebrow.

"Consider the gauntlet accepted."

Legolas's smile broadened. He hadn't had the promise of this much entertaining competition since he and Gimli started counting orc kills. He had a feeling, though he couldn't quite pin down why, that this might even be more fun.

Unnoticed at the other side of the room, Matt gave the pair of them a appraising glance.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

The most notable event in January happened just before the end of the month. Fortunately, Matt had taken Legolas out; he was training for a marathon, and Legolas was more than happy to keep him company as their runs usually took in Port Meadow, the Cherwell and various other places with open spaces and trees. Matt had a feeling that after struggling to keep up with the elf, he was going to turn in his fastest marathon time ever.

Helena heard the doorbell ring, and realised it was too soon for their run to be over. She buzzed the intercom.

"Police," said a male voice. "Is that Dr. Helena Brodie? Could you buzz us into the stairwell?"

"Yes, but I'll want to see ID." Helena pressed the button. She heard footsteps on the stairs, then a rap at the door. She opened it, keeping it on the chain.

"DI Southwell and DS Pickering," said the voice, proferring a pair of ID cards. Helena took the chain off the latch and ushered them into the sitting room.

"Very sensible of you to ask for ID, Dr. Brodie. You can't be too careful," the sergeant began. An opening gambit designed to put me at my ease with small talk, Helena thought to herself. Two can play at that game.

"Can I offer you a cup of tea," she asked.

"No, thank you," said the DI.

"May I ask what this visit is about," said Helena politely.

"We're investigating a rather brutal attack which took place on the canal tow path back in mid December. One of the people we've interviewed as part of our initial door-to-door enquiries said that she regularly sees someone fitting your description out jogging along the canal tow path, and that on the night in question, you and a companion were seen helping someone who appeared to be injured along the tow path and out onto the nearby road," the DI said.

Helena's brain went into overdrive. Keep plausibly close to the truth, it was telling her.

"That was probably the night my friend Tom sprained his ankle. Lottie, my friend – she's his girlfriend – and I helped him back here so we could strap his ankle, then Lottie went and got her car and drove him home."

"I see," said Southwell, his face giving nothing away. "I don't suppose you'd mind giving us contact details for your friends." Helena supplied the details, wondering how much time she had to make sure they would corroborate her version.

"While you were down at the canal, did you see any other people around? Anyone with a strange appearance?" he asked.

"No, no-one. It was very quiet that night."

"Ah, I see. Well, thank you, Dr. Brodie. You've been helpful. We won't take up any more of your time." Helena showed the two policemen to the door. She watched from the window as they drove away, then ran round the corner to a nearby cafe, where she used the payphone to tell Lottie about the visit.

A few streets away, Pickering turned to Southwell.

"What did you make of her, Sir?" he asked.

"Superficially, her account seems straightforward enough. But I got the feeling she wasn't telling us everything. Mind you, when it comes to this case, I get the feeling no one's telling us everything, especially our superiors. This has the smell of Special Branch all over it, possibly even their puppet masters in Thames House. I think we're being used because they think we're just the ordinary plod, too dim to realise what's going on, but useful for the leg-work."

Author's note: Thanks for the reviews. I'm really glad you like Jonathan. Also my science "hokum". As you may have guessed, I am a research scientist (though definitely not a quantum cosmologist), but I will freely admit I'm playing fast and loose with the science just to make the story fun.

Re. this chapter, I wanted to keep the dialogue reasonably plausible, so my characters aren't spelling all the background out. But for those of you (most of you) outside the UK, Special Branch is the bit of the British police which deals with counter-terrorism among other things, and Thames House is the headquarters of MI5 (think Homeland Security if you're in the US).