Authors' Note:

Hello. See we promised that we'd show up every so often, and here we are. We realized after we posted the first 3 chapters that we neglected to mention the pairings in this story. The major ones are Aragorn/Arwen and Frodo/Sam. If slash squicks you or you don't like the pairings in general, please don't give up on us. The romance aspect of the story is being kept very low key, and isn't too important.

Also, a million thanks to our reviewers: Starbrat, Ana/Yavanna, Jessica, Ani Cir Ki, Erin and Samus.

Oh. Before we forget, anyone who has the inclination to draw fanart, send it to us for we would love to have it. Our e-mail address is in our bio.

Enjoy the show, the Nightrunners...

Housebreakers

The apartment in which I lived had once been in the swankiest part of Manhattan, complete with a lovely view of the skyline and the river. Now it was Necropolis, and the view was downright bleak, but that didn't bother me too much. I could handle the magic, and I could usually outfight or outrun the street gangs.

The times I couldn't, I picked up some spectacular bruises.

I still had my bow, but that wasn't exactly a weapon you could carry in the streets. It hung next to my bed, and I carried my knives instead. They were the same ones I had always owned, white and sharp with filagree blades. They'd been gifted to me by Thranduil, and I'd had them charmed so they would last as long as I was alive. If I was slain in battle, my knives would crumble into dust.

Thirty thousand years later, that charm is still working. Who'd have thought?

I ached all over from the hit I'd taken, but I could almost feel the bones knitting together, the bruises fading to nothingness. Good old elven healing ability, keeping me alive through the countless wounds that should have sent me shuffling off this mortal coil.

Mrs. Briggs, my landlady, opened the door for me. I was limping pretty badly at this point, and I was lucky I'd made it home without being attacked. This is Necropolis, after all, and only the strong survive. The weak die horrible deaths.

Mrs. Briggs was the oldest human I knew. She was a tiny woman, with spun- sugar white hair, failing eyesight, and limbs that were as brittle as twigs. She lived her life in a pleasant aspirin-induced fog to kill the pain in her joints and back, but she was an absolute darling. I loved her. She seemed oblivious to the dangers of the streets, and whenever she went out, hobbling down the sidewalk to the grocery store, or laundromat, I always tailed her to make sure she made it home alive.

"Goodness glory, Mr. Leo!" she exclaimed as she let me in. "What happened to you?" Thank the Valar that she couldn't see well enough to realize my clothes were blood soaked.

"Had a little run-in with a car. I won, I think." I cracked my neck as she began fussing over me, brushing the dirt from my coat and face. I smiled at her. "I'm fine, really. Just a bit sore."

She smiled back at me, her brown eyes cloudy with cateracts. "You go on up to bed, love. I'll bring up chicken soup tomorrow."

Bless this woman.

"Many thanks, Mrs. Briggs." I kissed her faded cheek and she giggled coquettishly.

"Now, Mr. Leo, don't you go teasing an old woman like that!"

I smiled at her over my shoulder as I headed towards the rickety old staircase. I was halfway there before she called out to me again.

"Oh, dear boy, I almost forgot. Your cousins rang, around suppertime, looking for you."

I felt the smile fall off my face. "Cousins?" I asked tentatively.

"Yes," she beamed, unaware of my turmoil. "Two lovely blond boys. They asked to wait in your apartment, so I sent them up. Your family must have Swedish blood, Mr. Leo!"

I managed a grin and a nod of thanks, and I turned up the stairs.

Like I said before, my building was once extremely nice. I lived in the penthouse apartment, which means I have to climb ten flights of stairs to get there.

It was the longest ten flights of my life, and when you're immortal, that's saying something. Two blond men, claiming to cousins, waiting in my apartment. It seemed either insane, or far too good to be true. I wasn't even breathing hard when I got to the top. Pausing in front of my door, doubt crept in. Don't rush in, my instinct whispered, it could be a trap.

So, with a quiet snickt, I drew my knives. I took a deep breath, and kicked the door open.

He was waiting for me. Of course, elven ears could have heard me talking ten floors down in the lobby.

I felt a grin start to creep across my face as I sheathed my knives. "Well, shit. This is a surprise."

Glorfindel smiled sedately as he stood up. "Hello, Legolas." The smile suddenly dropped off his face. "By the Valar, what happened to you?"

"Car hit me." I answered, tossing my coat on the chair by the door.

Glorfindel raised one eyebrow. "Pray tell, how did you manage to do that?"

"Give me a break," I grumbled. "I wasn't paying attention. I'm over thirty-thousand years old. I'm old. And senile. I'm allowed to let my mind wander occasionally." Then, I moved across the floor and I embraced the other elf like the old friends we were. Glorfindel let the high-and-mighty-Elven-Lord mask fall away, and we stood grinning at each other like we were five hundred again.

"It's good to see you again, my friend." Glorfindel said, settling back into my favourite chair. "How long has it been?"

"I think we were both in court for a while when Galadriel was the Queen of England."

"Right, Elizabeth I."

"You've changed a bit."

"So have you."

"Yeah, but at the time it was doublets, hose, and codpieces."

Glorfindel did look different. He was dressed in a tasteful grey business suit, too expensive to be wearing in the streets of Necropolis. His gorgeous golden hair had been clipped to his shoulders, and he wore it pulled back at the nape of his neck. But there was no mistaking those vivid blue eyes, electric and full of life. Glorfindel had been one of the most powerful of the Eldar, and it didn't look as though thirty thousand years had changed that. The Elf who had once ruled Imladris beside Elrond Peredhil now looked like an up-and-coming young business executive.

"Did you come alone?" I asked, glancing around. I kept a pretty nice apartment, lots of windows and flowering trees, with some powerful rune-spells to keep out thieves. I didn't see anybody else.

Glorfindel rolled his eyes, and I grinned. "Yeah, I had some company. He's in the bloody kitchen."

A very familiar voice rang out. "Do you have anything to drink in this place other than coffee and this snotty filtered water?"

I laughed at the well-remembered voice, and the tone he used. "There's a bottle of Lake Merlot in the sideboard. 2032. A good year."

"Year before the war." Haldir agreed, poking his head out the kitchen door. "Hello, Legolas. Have you got glasses anywhere?"

"Cupboard over the fridge."

"Great."

I exchanged glances with Glorfindel, and we both burst out laughing. Haldir,

ex-Galadrhim of 'Lorien, was also clad in a respectable business suit, his icy blond hair cut in a rough shag which I had no doubt many women found quite fetching. He carried out wineglasses and distributed them with the flair of a magician producing rabbits from a hat.

"Careful with those." I said, raising an eyebrow. "They came from the Sun King's court, and I can't exactly replace them."

Haldir rolled his eyes. "Rather attached to your material possessions, are you, my dear Prince?"

I shook my head. "Not really, but the Louvre has been drooling after that set for years. If I ever run out of money, I plan to sell them."

Haldir settled back in a chair, sipping wine from the delicate crystal glass. "By the Valar, we've missed you, Legolas."

"I've missed you too," I answered, realizing how long it had been since I'd last heard elven voices. "More than you'll ever know, in fact." I felt a slight frown creeping across my face. "But tell me. Why are you here? Something tells me it's not a social call."

"I wish it was," Glorfindel matched my frown. "Legolas, exactly how out of touch are you with the other Elves?"

"Ummm..." I felt myself blushing. "I saw Elladan and Elrohir at the Battle of Trafalgar..."

"Oh gods." Haldir took a deep sip of wine. "This is going to take all night."

"No, no," argued Glorfindel. "We can just skip ahead to the important stuff." He turned towards me. "Have you ever heard of a company called Goldenwood Enterprises?"

"Who hasn't?" I shrugged. "They were basically the only major technology firm to survive the war. They're ranked number three or four on the global scale-" Suddenly, something clicked. "Oh no. Don't tell me-"

"Galadriel is running it."

"Oh, sweet Valar."

"So's Elrond." added Haldir.

I sat still for a moment, trying to process the fact that one of the world's most powerful companies was run by Elves. The most powerful of my race, no less, the Ringbearers. I looked at my friends. "And you?"

"We work for them." Glorfindel shrugged. "Basically trying to prevent the human race from destroying themselves before they can attain some sort of peace."

I narrowed my eyes. "Were you responsible for the magic returning? I've been here since the war, and I'm telling you, this place is like Middle Earth gone to hell. It's bad magic."

"Bad magic," Haldir agreed. "But we didn't do it. Magic just...happened."

Glorfindel was nodding. "The conditions were ripe for it, Legolas. So much happiness, so much pain and agony, so much conflict..." He set down his wineglass and brushed his hands together. "Like tectonic plates rubbing against each other to create an earthquake. The humans created the magic, my friend. Not us."

"They used magic as a weapon in their war, and they used it to cure kids with cancer." Haldir flicked his fingers at one of my trees. "Sometimes, it blooms." He paused, then pointed out the window to the black streets of Necropolis. "Sometimes, it festers. It's unpredictable, like the humans."

"They can't control it." I reasoned. "They don't know how."

"Exactly." said Glorfindel. "That's why places like Necropolis exist. They're sinkholes of fear and pain, of the raw emotion that feeds the bad magic. The humans created the magic, good and bad, and they fuel it constantly with their positive and negative emotions."

"In most cases, unfortunately, there's a lot more negative emotions than good ones." Haldir added. "That's why magical monsters pick people off the street in broad daylight, and why most bars won't let mages in."

"The mages, witches, and wizards can to control the magic," Glorfindel clarified. "To a certain extent, anyway. But a lot of the magical energy is too powerful for even the strongest humans. Only the Istari could harness it safely." He shrugged. "And nobody's seen them for millennia."

"I know all this," I said in exasperation, flashing them the tattoo on my neck. "Mage killer, remember? But you still haven't answered my first question. Why are you here?"

Glorfindel looked uncomfortable. "Well...I can't really tell you. Our job was just to find you."

"And bring me to Galadriel and Elrond." I finished dryly.

"Sort of." answered Haldir, who looked downright fidgety. "Will you come?"

I pondered the question. I'd broken off ties with my people a long time ago. I was a wanderer, a drifter in the world of humans. I thought I'd liked it that way, and to tell the truth, for a long time, I had. The world of men was closest I could ever get to a Fellowship again. Sad to think that the best events of my life had been thirty thousand years ago.

Glorfindel's voice broke into my thoughts. "Of course, if you really didn't want to go, we could leave New York and say we never found you. We could move on to Europe. London, maybe, or the White City..."

"Absolutely." agreed Haldir.

I smiled at them, knowing what such an outright deception could cost my friends. I slowly shook my head; there hadn't been much light in the world of humans lately. If my kin were trying to help...

"I'm game." I said. Letting my voice ring with finality, and watching the relief bloom on their faces. "Let me grab a quick shower. I've got blood in my hair."

Fifteen minutes later, I was tying my bandana over my damp hair, trying to compose a note to Mrs. Briggs at the same time; the Valar only knew when I'd be back.

"What is it with you and that bandana?" asked Haldir as I shook out my black duster.

"It covers my ears." I answered evenly. "In Necropolis, ears like this could get me worshipped. Or sacrificed. I'm not overly keen on either."

"Ah."

I locked the door behind me.