Soul of Elves
By Solara
Disclaimer: Any characters you recognize right off the bat weren't created by me; they are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien, with whom I claim no equity. Any characters you *don't* recognize right away, though, are mine.
A/N: This is my first LotR fic, which I'm a little scared to admit because people usually click away from the story when they read that- but oh well, there it is. This story is set ten years after the War of the Ring, and while it contains many original characters and surrounds one particular one, every effort will be made to avoid the dreaded Mary Sue (and I've gotta say, in five years of reading and writing fic in several different fandoms, the true definition of "Mary Sue" remains as elusive as ever. Anyone want to give me their version?). Elvish names were created using several online resources and the Silmarillion index. Hope you enjoy!
Asterisks (*) denote thoughts; double slashes (//) denote flashbacks.
Setting: Ten years after RotK.
*****
Chapter Two- A Reunion and a Mystery
-----
"You will have to move quicker than that if you hope to beat me-"
Aragorn, son of Arathorn, King Elessar of Gondor, was cut off as his fair- haired companion brought his sword down with enough force to make Aragorn's wrist vibrate and sting. He winced.
With a flick of the same wrist, he managed to deflect the blow, barely- his friend's sword then came flashing around again, swung skillfully and smoothly, to parry a thrust and force the Heir of Isildur to give ground.
"You were saying?" Legolas replied, his voice easy and his breath undisturbed. *Curse him,* Aragorn thought; *he is not even winded.*
They continued to spar, their swords striking out in every direction, always finding the other slim metal blade to clash against. Aragorn groaned aloud. "Now I remember why I stopped sparring with you," he said, breathing heavily. "You always did make my wrists ache for days afterwards!"
"Ah, yes. For me, the enjoyment is in making my opponent suffer." Legolas' ironic grin flashed white from underneath his swinging silver blade.
Aragorn jumped up onto a rock; they were on the plains, on a particularly rocky outcropping. If he could not make Legolas tire so easily in the arms, then perhaps his Elven friend would grow fatigued scrambling over stones, his least favorite of nature's offerings.
"You attempt to discourage me with rocks!" Legolas guessed with a laugh, pursuing his friend and bringing his blade around in a low swipe. Aragorn gauged the trajectory and cast out Anduril just in time. The clear ringing of metal striking metal was like music.
"I remember only too well your tendency to fall when confronted with them," Aragorn replied, swinging out with his own attack.
His arms swung smoothly, flawlessly, as perfectly as they had done years ago when Aragorn had been a deadly weapon against the orcs. Legolas felt a brief flash of contentment, that Aragorn did not show the signs of his aging beyond the slight graying of his hair and beard.
It was a comfort. Legolas could not imagine- did not even want to fathom- the grief that would overtake his Elven heart when age and death finally caught up with his mortal friend.
Legolas jumped onto an opposite rock, now higher up than Aragorn. "I only fall when I am unsure of my footing," he shot back, bringing his sword down in a deadly, zealous arc.
Too zealous, he realized at once, for Aragorn merely stepped aside. "Like... now?" he retorted as Legolas, thrown by the momentum of his swing, began to topple forwards.
Flailing blindly, Legolas reached out for anything to grab onto- and his hand fell on the king's sleeve. With a devilish grin, he gripped and pulled.
Aragorn's eyes widened. "Legolas, no-"
They both let out a yell as they fell to the dirt below the outcropping and tumbled down a mossy hill. Rocks skittered down all around them; they rolled over and over, shouting with each bump, until finally hitting the ground at the bottom of the sharp ravine with a collective thud.
The air was knocked from Legolas' lungs, but he managed to roll over and press the point of his sword gently against Aragorn's neck. "Admit it- you are beaten," he gasped, choking in air.
Aragorn laughed, brushed away the sword, and rose. His lungs were fine. "Beaten at the moment, but were I so inclined, I would take advantage of your breathlessness and do real damage before you could blink."
Legolas lay back on the ground, calming his breath, then got to his feet gracefully, looking around. "And where do you suppose you have gotten us now?"
They were on a road besotted with mushrooms. Aragorn looked down to the West. "This is a shortcut," he said. "We'll be in the Shire in no time." His dark brow, however, was furrowed.
"Right," Legolas said ruefully.
Arod and Roheryn came trotting down the road towards the pair. Aragorn frowned. "Strange that it takes us a painful tumble down a hill to reach the road, yet our horses find it with no ill breath," he remarked.
Legolas reached up to stroke Arod's white nose as the horse neared. "Now are you wishing you were a horse?"
"Nay, my friend," Aragorn laughed as he swung up onto his own mount. "I merely wish I had their sense of direction."
"It is true. You could track an orc down a river, I wager. But finding the road?" Legolas shook his head, smiling. "Ai, I sometimes wish you were a horse, too."
The golden-haired Elf threw his borrowed sword back to Aragorn. "And the next time we wish to practice, it will be an archery contest. I do hate swords."
They started down the road. "As if there is any practice in being thoroughly beaten and all my arrows split in half," Aragorn grumbled, rewarded by his friend's light laughter.
---
Cantering fairly quickly, they reached the Shire by late afternoon.
"Aha, you see?" Aragorn said, a note of triumph in his gravelly voice. "A shortcut it was indeed."
Legolas had to admit that the Shire was worth falling down a hill for. Green hills, lush with wildflowers, stretched as far as his extraordinary eyes could see; small clear streams, their music floating on the sweet breezy air, cut through the grass and hills like shining blue-green veins. He could hear children laughing.
"This is lovely," he said aloud, the wonder clear on his fair face.
Aragorn smiled. "It is good to be back," he replied.
They let their horses relax into a restful walk down the main road of Hobbiton, allowing the sights and sounds of the peaceful little land, untouched by any darkness, overwhelm them. Legolas would have liked to see more trees, but his heart rejoiced when he saw how harmoniously the Hobbits co-existed with nature. Everywhere, gardens bloomed with beautiful, painstakingly-tended flowers; vines wrapped around nearly every hobbit-hole door, their broad shiny leaves glinting happily in the sun. Wildlife seemed to embrace the funny little creatures whole-heartedly.
Legolas breathed deep, relishing the feeling of the sun on his hair and face. *It is good to be at peace,* he told himself. Although he missed the action, the excitement of his days with the Fellowship and the numerous battles leading up to it, he knew that nothing could ever take the place of true rest and an unharried, unendangered journey.
A hobbit was kneeling in the dirt of the first hobbit-hole they passed, digging with a small trowel among scattered weeds. The small face looked up at the two riders and immediately popped in surprise; with a half-grunt, half-squeak, the hobbit sprang to his bushy, gnarled little feet and fairly dove through the door of his cozy little abode. Legolas laughed aloud when he saw, moments later, not one but two hobbit-faces pressed against the glass of the window, their eyes wide.
"Skittish, aren't they?" he remarked to Aragorn, who nodded.
"It's not as if any of them have ever seen an elf before," Aragorn said. "Nay, I think that count- until today, anyhow- remained just four."
Warmth flooded Legolas as he thought of the four young hobbits whose lives had so touched his during the War of the Ring. They had been to Minas Tirith, of course, in a grand visit nearly a decade ago, and Frodo, Merry, and Pippin had come out to Ithilien to see the new colony, but Legolas had not seen any of them since those trips; even though the past ten years had gone quickly for him, in a flurry of royal welcomes and new adventures back home in Mirkwood, his thoughts often turned to his brave, cheerful young companions.
"How I have missed them," he said softly.
Aragorn heard him, and smiled. "You need miss them no longer." He raised an arm and pointed to a hobbit-hole a little way down the road, with the largest, most luxurious garden Legolas had seen yet blooming all around it.
"I see that Sam put Galadriel's box of soil to good use," he exclaimed.
They spurred their horses on; this reunion was far too late in coming.
---
"Come on then, Frodo, bring the bacon!" Pippin's voice was anxious and impatient, as usual when he was hungry.
"Hang on, hang on- I'm putting together a plate." Frodo stepped into the small dining room where his three friends waited, chattering like children.
There had only been two days that had passed since their return to the Shire that the hobbits had not had tea together at Bag End- and both times, they had had tea with Sam while Rosie lay in childbirth. Tea was a distinct tradition among the more diminutive members of the fellowship, possibly due to the fact that the afternoon event had been impossible during their many adventures. And, as Pippin had grumbled to the merriment of all the Fellowship, Strider and his grand White City didn't even offer it to them when they had visited ten years ago.
"What's the good of a feast at night if your stomach hasn't been warmed up beforehand?" he had questioned with a slight scowl, and Strider had been nearly beside himself with mirth.
Frodo set a platter down on the table and began pouring tea into small cups while his three friends reached for the meat, cheese, and bread. A knock sounded at the door.
"Leave some for me, now!" Frodo called, leaving his friends as he went quickly to the door and opened it.
His jaw dropped.
Normally, any hobbit's jaw would drop at the sight of a man and an elf standing casually on his doorstep; but in Frodo's case, it was shock rather than fright which caused it.
Aragorn and Legolas stood there looking down at him, the sunlight directly behind their heads; Aragorn's features were nearly entirely in shadow, while in Legolas' case the sun only served to set him in an ethereal golden aura. The two looked like figures out of a dream, and Frodo gaped accordingly.
"Now then, Frodo," Aragorn said with a joking grin. "I believe we've made it in time for tea- aren't you going to allow us to take part in the exciting ritual we've heard so much about?"
"Strider!" Frodo shouted, throwing himself at the man, wrapping his arms around Aragorn's waist. His cry brought the other three hobbits running, and Legolas soon found his own arms full with wriggling, laughing Merry and Pippin.
"I can't believe it!"
"When did you get here?"
"Strider and Mr. Legolas here in Hobbiton, I just don't believe my eyes..."
"Why did you come?"
Aragorn raised his hands and waved them down. "Hold on, hold on, one at a time! We're a little tired from our journey. Will you not invite us in, Frodo?"
Frodo suddenly jumped back through the doorway a little too quickly; Aragorn and Legolas both noticed. The dark-haired little hobbit held the door open wide. "Of course, come in- you're right, we were just sitting down to tea, and I'm sure there's enough here for the both of you!" His voice was hurried, tight.
They stepped through, hunching over, entering the house. Legolas was the last to enter, and so he did not see Frodo's worried eyes following him in; Aragorn, however, did. He also saw Frodo give a quick, furtive look around outside before slamming the door and locking it.
Pippin tugged at Legolas' sleeve. "I don't suppose you brought any of that Elvish waybread, did you?"
Legolas laughed, and his eyes twinkled. He looked exactly the same as the hobbits remembered him from the days of the Fellowship- strong, slender, standing elegantly, his powerful body supple and taut as a bowstring, alert and ready for action. His hair and smooth pale skin gleamed in the late afternoon sun, giving him his usual glow. He leaned down to Pippin, his hands resting on his knees.
"I've a whole pack full of it, just for the two of you," he told Merry and Pippin, who grinned happily. They had been quite taken with the sweet, filling cakes.
"If it's not crushed from our little tumble," Aragorn said loudly, following Frodo carefully through the house, his back bent, ducking the chandelier. "Legolas had an unfortunate accident on some rocks earlier today and pulled me down with him."
This time, Aragorn was not the only one to notice the vaguely concerned look Frodo shot Sam at the word 'accident'. Legolas furrowed his brow nearly imperceptibly, but did not question the hobbits, opting instead to diffuse their unease.
"Oh, I assure you, it was no accident," came his smooth, pleasing lilt jokingly. The hobbits laughed.
They reached the dining room, and Frodo pulled up two extra chairs. Legolas and Aragorn looked at them blankly, then attempted to perch on the edges of the small seats.
"What brings you here? Strider, it's been ages since you were here last, I thought you'd be too busy to come again-" Frodo, who had been pouring tea, stopped his chatter abruptly and set the pot down with a thunk. Ever the nervous one, Sam jumped.
Frodo's eyes were wide. "You're alone! Strider, where are your guards? I just realized!"
Legolas let out a small snort. "And I, certainly, am *no* protection."
Both of the visitors saw Frodo's eyes flick worriedly to the golden-haired elf on his right, then back to Aragorn before he hastily continued. "No, no, I didn't mean that- both of you are worth five guards each- but I thought it was required that you travel with guards! When we were at Minas Tirith, you were barely allowed out of the palace without an entourage!"
Aragorn grinned mischievously, and the hobbits noticed that the gold circlet of royalty designating him king was missing from his brow, as well. So were the rich fabrics and thick leather that made up his garments- he was dressed, much like Legolas, in his Elven clothing of old. Besides a slight graying at his temples, and a few more weathered lines in his face, the Strider that sat before them was indistinguishable from the one who had saved their hides at the Prancing Pony all those years ago.
"Well-noticed, Frodo," Aragorn replied. "It took a little convincing, but I managed to get Arwen to let me go alone. She aided in our-" he glanced at Legolas.
"Escape?" the elf supplied.
"-*departure* from the palace." Aragorn shot Legolas a dark look.
Legolas tore a strip of bread off of the loaf and cut himself some cheese. "Yes, departure. In the dead of night, out the windows, under cloaks so we would not be recognized."
Sam's eyes were wide. "You shouldn't have! And who knows how safe you are, anyway- what with everything that's been happening lately in these parts!"
"What do you mean-" Aragorn began, brow furrowed, but Frodo cut him off.
"Now, now. We'll have plenty of time to catch up later. More tea, anyone?" he said hastily. Merry and Pippin both raised their teacups eagerly as Aragorn and Legolas met eyes over the heads of the hobbits.
*Something's going on,* Aragorn's eyes said.
Legolas nodded. Something was indeed not right in the Shire- and he had a strong feeling that it had something to do with him.
---
Hours later, the group lay out in the grass outside the hobbit-hole, looking up at the now-dark sky. Legolas watched disdainfully as the hobbits and Aragorn puffed on pipes. He had never understood the desire mortals had to fill their lungs with foul-smelling smoke.
"Sam, the gardens are beautiful," he told the round-faced hobbit, who beamed.
"Lady Galadriel's dirt, I'd say- she did tell me that it'd give me the finest blooms in the Shire."
"And how is Rosie?" Aragorn asked with a wink.
Merry let out a laugh. "Oh, he's got her in a fine state, up to her neck in little ones!"
Sam blushed. "Sam! You have had another child?" Legolas exclaimed.
"Aye, a girl, and she's prettier than the flower she's named for," Frodo said.
"Little Daisy. Thought we'd best keep the theme goin'," Sam said, his blush deepening.
The breeze waved through the trees and grass, as if the very plants were celebrating the newborn. Legolas breathed a sigh of contentment, not for the first time. "I could stay here for a while," he said softly, to no one in particular.
"Why don't you?" asked Frodo. Something about the way he said it made Legolas wonder anew at the tension in the air.
"We are expected in Rivendell exactly ten days from now, and I certainly don't want to deal with Arwen if we are a single minute late," Aragorn replied. "Besides, it has been too long since I've seen my childhood home, and one of Arwen's brothers is to marry."
Legolas grinned to himself, remembering the look on Aragorn's face when he had brought the news to Minas Tirith that Elladan had fallen deeply in love with a maiden of Lorien. Aiwendil, her name was, and Legolas had known her well in their youth; he thought that she and Elladan made a good match. But Aragorn... Aragorn had obviously considered his ever-youthful foster brother, the wilder of the twins, matchless.
/Like myself,/ Legolas thought. He had never felt any kind of intimacy towards the opposite sex- desire, yes, of course he had felt that, but nothing that would make him want to pledge himself to a she-elf forever. /Perhaps I shall never marry./
"Will Arwen be joining you there?" he heard Frodo ask Aragorn.
"Yes, she waits for us. I have been... somewhat stifled of late," the former Ranger replied. "I was glad when Legolas suggested an early trip to the Shire, to visit all of you. I have not journeyed on my own for many, many years."
"Then you put him up to it!" Sam cried, aiming his accusatory glare at Legolas, who smiled.
"I merely told King Elessar that *I* would be going to the Shire on my way to Rivendell, and that I did not know the way and could use the help of a guide," he said. "I hold no blame for his ensuing eagerness!"
Sam scowled, but it was good-natured. It was difficult to stay mad at Legolas, whom none of the hobbits had ever seen speak an ill word or get angry at anyone- except in battle, of course.
Yes, Legolas was downright terrifying in battle. Beautiful, but terrifying. That much they knew for certain.
"If you're going to Rivendell," Sam said suddenly, "then you will be passing near to Bree!" His voice held concern; Legolas and Aragorn had had enough.
"Again you mention this- Frodo, will you not tell us?" Aragorn said, sitting up. Frodo did the same.
His blue eyes were very round, his face serious. "Well," he said. "We have been hearing stories of strange men in these parts. Men with grey faces and skin, and black hair, dressed in black. They ride grey horses. And there have been, in the last two years, three elves-" he glanced apologetically at Legolas- "who have been found dead in the woods outside Bree, between the Shire and Rivendell."
Legolas sat up quickly. He had heard of these deaths- two elves from Imladris, and one from Lorien- but he had not known of their circumstances, had only mourned them with his family and friends in Mirkwood.
"They were near to Bree?" he asked, confused. "I knew of their passing, but I did not know they had died away from their homes!"
Frodo nodded gravely. "And the odd thing about it all- as if elves dying isn't odd enough in itself- is the way they died. No fatal wound could be found on the bodies. The last one was just six months ago, when Sam and I went to Bree earlier this year. We were there when they found her."
Her. "Then it was Lauromen," Legolas murmured. Aragorn bowed his head- the young archeress of Rivendell had been a friend of Arwen's, and his wife had grieved heavily for several weeks after the news came to Minas Tirith.
"Lauromen. Pretty name," Sam remarked quietly. "It was such a shame, everyone in such an uproar when they found her- no weapons, no wounds, nothing. Just... lifeless. And her skin was all grey." He shuddered. "I ain't never seen anything like it."
Aragorn looked startled. "Her skin was grey?"
"Yes. Grey, like the men they've been seein' 'round here. It was frightenin', really."
*So this is why they have been concerned that I am here,* Legolas realized. *They think I'm going to be killed by some odd creature.*
Frodo tapped his pipe against his knee and frowned, as if he was thinking hard about something, then looked up. "There's something else," he said. "But I'm not sure if I want to tell you, because I don't want you two running to Bree and getting into danger because of me."
Sam folded his arms. "*I* sure wouldn't tell 'em," he asserted.
Aragorn smiled his most convincing, trustworthy smile. "Surely you must know that we'd find out anyway," he said. "And we're already going to Bree. Tell us, Frodo."
Frodo looked warily from Aragorn to Legolas, then sighed. "All right. But now I'm going to be worried- especially for you," he warned, nodding to Legolas. "About two weeks ago, an elf was seen in the Shire, here in Hobbiton, actually."
"I saw her!" Pippin's head had come up at that one. "Merry and I did, didn't we?"
"Yes, yes... we were exploring the south end of the woods when we saw her sneaking along the stream-bank. She had her bow and arrows with her, and she looked like she'd been spooked half to death-" Merry shrugged, realizing his mistake- "or, you know, whatever."
"She had no horse?" Legolas asked. He couldn't imagine an elf traveling this far from Rivendell without their horse.
"No, no horse. She looked like she wasn't herself, really. And she was an odd one, she was- if we hadn't seen her ears we wouldn't have known she was an elf. We watched her make her way east, then we ran back here."
Aragorn frowned. "I detected no murmur of elves among the hobbits here," he said. "Were you planning on keeping this a secret?"
Frodo took over with a slightly sheepish look. "I was going to send a message to you when the next rider came," he told his imposing friend. "And honestly, we expected she was just lost from her party- though I've never heard of an elf to get lost," he added, almost to himself.
"Well." Aragorn took a drag from his pipe. "That is interesting indeed. What does this lost elf-maiden have to do with Bree?"
"That's the thing," Sam said, rubbing his arms against a sudden chill in the soft breeze. "Frodo and I just got back from our trip to Bree, and when we were there we stayed at the Prancing Pony; and old Mr. Butterbur told us that the she-elf had come in, all banged up and lookin' a fright, and gotten a room. But then- she was captured." Sam's voice exaggerated the last word dramatically.
Legolas practically leapt to his feet. "Captured!" he cried. For any elf to be lost and alone was a dangerous thing indeed, but to be captured... that could veritably start a war with the Elfkind!
Frodo's eyes were, if possible, wider than before. "Butterbur said he saw the whole thing. It was those men, the grey ones; they came riding up and she dropped all of the sudden, like, like-" he struggled for words- "like she'd been poisoned, or something. And they took her right away."
"He watched this happen and did not do anything?" Legolas' voice was incredulous, but still quiet.
"These men, they're scary- they could have killed the whole tavern!" Sam spoke up.
*Still,* thought Legolas, annoyed. *I thought men were grateful enough to elves that they would intervene when one was being violently snatched off the street.*
Aragorn, as if sensing his turmoil, put a hand on Legolas' shoulder. "Well," he said, his voice serious. "Now it's settled. We must go to Bree and try to pick up the trail of this lost elf-maiden. We cannot leave her to this terrible fate."
Frodo sighed, looking very sad. "I knew I shouldn't have told you," he said glumly.
Sam, too, was despondent. "Don't you understand- they're after elves!" he cried, wringing his hands and sending pipe-ash floating out over the air. "Mr. Legolas isn't safe in these parts!"
Legolas shook off his anger and smiled at Sam. "Do not worry, my friend. I shall be fine. I always have been, for many, many years, through worse dangers than this."
Sam and Frodo would not be assured, however, and when Aragorn and Legolas set off the next morning for Bree, they could not help but notice how tightly they were embraced beforehand.
---
So, what happened to the lost elf? Who are these mysterious Grey Men? Next chapter coming soon! Please don't forget to review!
By Solara
Disclaimer: Any characters you recognize right off the bat weren't created by me; they are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien, with whom I claim no equity. Any characters you *don't* recognize right away, though, are mine.
A/N: This is my first LotR fic, which I'm a little scared to admit because people usually click away from the story when they read that- but oh well, there it is. This story is set ten years after the War of the Ring, and while it contains many original characters and surrounds one particular one, every effort will be made to avoid the dreaded Mary Sue (and I've gotta say, in five years of reading and writing fic in several different fandoms, the true definition of "Mary Sue" remains as elusive as ever. Anyone want to give me their version?). Elvish names were created using several online resources and the Silmarillion index. Hope you enjoy!
Asterisks (*) denote thoughts; double slashes (//) denote flashbacks.
Setting: Ten years after RotK.
*****
Chapter Two- A Reunion and a Mystery
-----
"You will have to move quicker than that if you hope to beat me-"
Aragorn, son of Arathorn, King Elessar of Gondor, was cut off as his fair- haired companion brought his sword down with enough force to make Aragorn's wrist vibrate and sting. He winced.
With a flick of the same wrist, he managed to deflect the blow, barely- his friend's sword then came flashing around again, swung skillfully and smoothly, to parry a thrust and force the Heir of Isildur to give ground.
"You were saying?" Legolas replied, his voice easy and his breath undisturbed. *Curse him,* Aragorn thought; *he is not even winded.*
They continued to spar, their swords striking out in every direction, always finding the other slim metal blade to clash against. Aragorn groaned aloud. "Now I remember why I stopped sparring with you," he said, breathing heavily. "You always did make my wrists ache for days afterwards!"
"Ah, yes. For me, the enjoyment is in making my opponent suffer." Legolas' ironic grin flashed white from underneath his swinging silver blade.
Aragorn jumped up onto a rock; they were on the plains, on a particularly rocky outcropping. If he could not make Legolas tire so easily in the arms, then perhaps his Elven friend would grow fatigued scrambling over stones, his least favorite of nature's offerings.
"You attempt to discourage me with rocks!" Legolas guessed with a laugh, pursuing his friend and bringing his blade around in a low swipe. Aragorn gauged the trajectory and cast out Anduril just in time. The clear ringing of metal striking metal was like music.
"I remember only too well your tendency to fall when confronted with them," Aragorn replied, swinging out with his own attack.
His arms swung smoothly, flawlessly, as perfectly as they had done years ago when Aragorn had been a deadly weapon against the orcs. Legolas felt a brief flash of contentment, that Aragorn did not show the signs of his aging beyond the slight graying of his hair and beard.
It was a comfort. Legolas could not imagine- did not even want to fathom- the grief that would overtake his Elven heart when age and death finally caught up with his mortal friend.
Legolas jumped onto an opposite rock, now higher up than Aragorn. "I only fall when I am unsure of my footing," he shot back, bringing his sword down in a deadly, zealous arc.
Too zealous, he realized at once, for Aragorn merely stepped aside. "Like... now?" he retorted as Legolas, thrown by the momentum of his swing, began to topple forwards.
Flailing blindly, Legolas reached out for anything to grab onto- and his hand fell on the king's sleeve. With a devilish grin, he gripped and pulled.
Aragorn's eyes widened. "Legolas, no-"
They both let out a yell as they fell to the dirt below the outcropping and tumbled down a mossy hill. Rocks skittered down all around them; they rolled over and over, shouting with each bump, until finally hitting the ground at the bottom of the sharp ravine with a collective thud.
The air was knocked from Legolas' lungs, but he managed to roll over and press the point of his sword gently against Aragorn's neck. "Admit it- you are beaten," he gasped, choking in air.
Aragorn laughed, brushed away the sword, and rose. His lungs were fine. "Beaten at the moment, but were I so inclined, I would take advantage of your breathlessness and do real damage before you could blink."
Legolas lay back on the ground, calming his breath, then got to his feet gracefully, looking around. "And where do you suppose you have gotten us now?"
They were on a road besotted with mushrooms. Aragorn looked down to the West. "This is a shortcut," he said. "We'll be in the Shire in no time." His dark brow, however, was furrowed.
"Right," Legolas said ruefully.
Arod and Roheryn came trotting down the road towards the pair. Aragorn frowned. "Strange that it takes us a painful tumble down a hill to reach the road, yet our horses find it with no ill breath," he remarked.
Legolas reached up to stroke Arod's white nose as the horse neared. "Now are you wishing you were a horse?"
"Nay, my friend," Aragorn laughed as he swung up onto his own mount. "I merely wish I had their sense of direction."
"It is true. You could track an orc down a river, I wager. But finding the road?" Legolas shook his head, smiling. "Ai, I sometimes wish you were a horse, too."
The golden-haired Elf threw his borrowed sword back to Aragorn. "And the next time we wish to practice, it will be an archery contest. I do hate swords."
They started down the road. "As if there is any practice in being thoroughly beaten and all my arrows split in half," Aragorn grumbled, rewarded by his friend's light laughter.
---
Cantering fairly quickly, they reached the Shire by late afternoon.
"Aha, you see?" Aragorn said, a note of triumph in his gravelly voice. "A shortcut it was indeed."
Legolas had to admit that the Shire was worth falling down a hill for. Green hills, lush with wildflowers, stretched as far as his extraordinary eyes could see; small clear streams, their music floating on the sweet breezy air, cut through the grass and hills like shining blue-green veins. He could hear children laughing.
"This is lovely," he said aloud, the wonder clear on his fair face.
Aragorn smiled. "It is good to be back," he replied.
They let their horses relax into a restful walk down the main road of Hobbiton, allowing the sights and sounds of the peaceful little land, untouched by any darkness, overwhelm them. Legolas would have liked to see more trees, but his heart rejoiced when he saw how harmoniously the Hobbits co-existed with nature. Everywhere, gardens bloomed with beautiful, painstakingly-tended flowers; vines wrapped around nearly every hobbit-hole door, their broad shiny leaves glinting happily in the sun. Wildlife seemed to embrace the funny little creatures whole-heartedly.
Legolas breathed deep, relishing the feeling of the sun on his hair and face. *It is good to be at peace,* he told himself. Although he missed the action, the excitement of his days with the Fellowship and the numerous battles leading up to it, he knew that nothing could ever take the place of true rest and an unharried, unendangered journey.
A hobbit was kneeling in the dirt of the first hobbit-hole they passed, digging with a small trowel among scattered weeds. The small face looked up at the two riders and immediately popped in surprise; with a half-grunt, half-squeak, the hobbit sprang to his bushy, gnarled little feet and fairly dove through the door of his cozy little abode. Legolas laughed aloud when he saw, moments later, not one but two hobbit-faces pressed against the glass of the window, their eyes wide.
"Skittish, aren't they?" he remarked to Aragorn, who nodded.
"It's not as if any of them have ever seen an elf before," Aragorn said. "Nay, I think that count- until today, anyhow- remained just four."
Warmth flooded Legolas as he thought of the four young hobbits whose lives had so touched his during the War of the Ring. They had been to Minas Tirith, of course, in a grand visit nearly a decade ago, and Frodo, Merry, and Pippin had come out to Ithilien to see the new colony, but Legolas had not seen any of them since those trips; even though the past ten years had gone quickly for him, in a flurry of royal welcomes and new adventures back home in Mirkwood, his thoughts often turned to his brave, cheerful young companions.
"How I have missed them," he said softly.
Aragorn heard him, and smiled. "You need miss them no longer." He raised an arm and pointed to a hobbit-hole a little way down the road, with the largest, most luxurious garden Legolas had seen yet blooming all around it.
"I see that Sam put Galadriel's box of soil to good use," he exclaimed.
They spurred their horses on; this reunion was far too late in coming.
---
"Come on then, Frodo, bring the bacon!" Pippin's voice was anxious and impatient, as usual when he was hungry.
"Hang on, hang on- I'm putting together a plate." Frodo stepped into the small dining room where his three friends waited, chattering like children.
There had only been two days that had passed since their return to the Shire that the hobbits had not had tea together at Bag End- and both times, they had had tea with Sam while Rosie lay in childbirth. Tea was a distinct tradition among the more diminutive members of the fellowship, possibly due to the fact that the afternoon event had been impossible during their many adventures. And, as Pippin had grumbled to the merriment of all the Fellowship, Strider and his grand White City didn't even offer it to them when they had visited ten years ago.
"What's the good of a feast at night if your stomach hasn't been warmed up beforehand?" he had questioned with a slight scowl, and Strider had been nearly beside himself with mirth.
Frodo set a platter down on the table and began pouring tea into small cups while his three friends reached for the meat, cheese, and bread. A knock sounded at the door.
"Leave some for me, now!" Frodo called, leaving his friends as he went quickly to the door and opened it.
His jaw dropped.
Normally, any hobbit's jaw would drop at the sight of a man and an elf standing casually on his doorstep; but in Frodo's case, it was shock rather than fright which caused it.
Aragorn and Legolas stood there looking down at him, the sunlight directly behind their heads; Aragorn's features were nearly entirely in shadow, while in Legolas' case the sun only served to set him in an ethereal golden aura. The two looked like figures out of a dream, and Frodo gaped accordingly.
"Now then, Frodo," Aragorn said with a joking grin. "I believe we've made it in time for tea- aren't you going to allow us to take part in the exciting ritual we've heard so much about?"
"Strider!" Frodo shouted, throwing himself at the man, wrapping his arms around Aragorn's waist. His cry brought the other three hobbits running, and Legolas soon found his own arms full with wriggling, laughing Merry and Pippin.
"I can't believe it!"
"When did you get here?"
"Strider and Mr. Legolas here in Hobbiton, I just don't believe my eyes..."
"Why did you come?"
Aragorn raised his hands and waved them down. "Hold on, hold on, one at a time! We're a little tired from our journey. Will you not invite us in, Frodo?"
Frodo suddenly jumped back through the doorway a little too quickly; Aragorn and Legolas both noticed. The dark-haired little hobbit held the door open wide. "Of course, come in- you're right, we were just sitting down to tea, and I'm sure there's enough here for the both of you!" His voice was hurried, tight.
They stepped through, hunching over, entering the house. Legolas was the last to enter, and so he did not see Frodo's worried eyes following him in; Aragorn, however, did. He also saw Frodo give a quick, furtive look around outside before slamming the door and locking it.
Pippin tugged at Legolas' sleeve. "I don't suppose you brought any of that Elvish waybread, did you?"
Legolas laughed, and his eyes twinkled. He looked exactly the same as the hobbits remembered him from the days of the Fellowship- strong, slender, standing elegantly, his powerful body supple and taut as a bowstring, alert and ready for action. His hair and smooth pale skin gleamed in the late afternoon sun, giving him his usual glow. He leaned down to Pippin, his hands resting on his knees.
"I've a whole pack full of it, just for the two of you," he told Merry and Pippin, who grinned happily. They had been quite taken with the sweet, filling cakes.
"If it's not crushed from our little tumble," Aragorn said loudly, following Frodo carefully through the house, his back bent, ducking the chandelier. "Legolas had an unfortunate accident on some rocks earlier today and pulled me down with him."
This time, Aragorn was not the only one to notice the vaguely concerned look Frodo shot Sam at the word 'accident'. Legolas furrowed his brow nearly imperceptibly, but did not question the hobbits, opting instead to diffuse their unease.
"Oh, I assure you, it was no accident," came his smooth, pleasing lilt jokingly. The hobbits laughed.
They reached the dining room, and Frodo pulled up two extra chairs. Legolas and Aragorn looked at them blankly, then attempted to perch on the edges of the small seats.
"What brings you here? Strider, it's been ages since you were here last, I thought you'd be too busy to come again-" Frodo, who had been pouring tea, stopped his chatter abruptly and set the pot down with a thunk. Ever the nervous one, Sam jumped.
Frodo's eyes were wide. "You're alone! Strider, where are your guards? I just realized!"
Legolas let out a small snort. "And I, certainly, am *no* protection."
Both of the visitors saw Frodo's eyes flick worriedly to the golden-haired elf on his right, then back to Aragorn before he hastily continued. "No, no, I didn't mean that- both of you are worth five guards each- but I thought it was required that you travel with guards! When we were at Minas Tirith, you were barely allowed out of the palace without an entourage!"
Aragorn grinned mischievously, and the hobbits noticed that the gold circlet of royalty designating him king was missing from his brow, as well. So were the rich fabrics and thick leather that made up his garments- he was dressed, much like Legolas, in his Elven clothing of old. Besides a slight graying at his temples, and a few more weathered lines in his face, the Strider that sat before them was indistinguishable from the one who had saved their hides at the Prancing Pony all those years ago.
"Well-noticed, Frodo," Aragorn replied. "It took a little convincing, but I managed to get Arwen to let me go alone. She aided in our-" he glanced at Legolas.
"Escape?" the elf supplied.
"-*departure* from the palace." Aragorn shot Legolas a dark look.
Legolas tore a strip of bread off of the loaf and cut himself some cheese. "Yes, departure. In the dead of night, out the windows, under cloaks so we would not be recognized."
Sam's eyes were wide. "You shouldn't have! And who knows how safe you are, anyway- what with everything that's been happening lately in these parts!"
"What do you mean-" Aragorn began, brow furrowed, but Frodo cut him off.
"Now, now. We'll have plenty of time to catch up later. More tea, anyone?" he said hastily. Merry and Pippin both raised their teacups eagerly as Aragorn and Legolas met eyes over the heads of the hobbits.
*Something's going on,* Aragorn's eyes said.
Legolas nodded. Something was indeed not right in the Shire- and he had a strong feeling that it had something to do with him.
---
Hours later, the group lay out in the grass outside the hobbit-hole, looking up at the now-dark sky. Legolas watched disdainfully as the hobbits and Aragorn puffed on pipes. He had never understood the desire mortals had to fill their lungs with foul-smelling smoke.
"Sam, the gardens are beautiful," he told the round-faced hobbit, who beamed.
"Lady Galadriel's dirt, I'd say- she did tell me that it'd give me the finest blooms in the Shire."
"And how is Rosie?" Aragorn asked with a wink.
Merry let out a laugh. "Oh, he's got her in a fine state, up to her neck in little ones!"
Sam blushed. "Sam! You have had another child?" Legolas exclaimed.
"Aye, a girl, and she's prettier than the flower she's named for," Frodo said.
"Little Daisy. Thought we'd best keep the theme goin'," Sam said, his blush deepening.
The breeze waved through the trees and grass, as if the very plants were celebrating the newborn. Legolas breathed a sigh of contentment, not for the first time. "I could stay here for a while," he said softly, to no one in particular.
"Why don't you?" asked Frodo. Something about the way he said it made Legolas wonder anew at the tension in the air.
"We are expected in Rivendell exactly ten days from now, and I certainly don't want to deal with Arwen if we are a single minute late," Aragorn replied. "Besides, it has been too long since I've seen my childhood home, and one of Arwen's brothers is to marry."
Legolas grinned to himself, remembering the look on Aragorn's face when he had brought the news to Minas Tirith that Elladan had fallen deeply in love with a maiden of Lorien. Aiwendil, her name was, and Legolas had known her well in their youth; he thought that she and Elladan made a good match. But Aragorn... Aragorn had obviously considered his ever-youthful foster brother, the wilder of the twins, matchless.
/Like myself,/ Legolas thought. He had never felt any kind of intimacy towards the opposite sex- desire, yes, of course he had felt that, but nothing that would make him want to pledge himself to a she-elf forever. /Perhaps I shall never marry./
"Will Arwen be joining you there?" he heard Frodo ask Aragorn.
"Yes, she waits for us. I have been... somewhat stifled of late," the former Ranger replied. "I was glad when Legolas suggested an early trip to the Shire, to visit all of you. I have not journeyed on my own for many, many years."
"Then you put him up to it!" Sam cried, aiming his accusatory glare at Legolas, who smiled.
"I merely told King Elessar that *I* would be going to the Shire on my way to Rivendell, and that I did not know the way and could use the help of a guide," he said. "I hold no blame for his ensuing eagerness!"
Sam scowled, but it was good-natured. It was difficult to stay mad at Legolas, whom none of the hobbits had ever seen speak an ill word or get angry at anyone- except in battle, of course.
Yes, Legolas was downright terrifying in battle. Beautiful, but terrifying. That much they knew for certain.
"If you're going to Rivendell," Sam said suddenly, "then you will be passing near to Bree!" His voice held concern; Legolas and Aragorn had had enough.
"Again you mention this- Frodo, will you not tell us?" Aragorn said, sitting up. Frodo did the same.
His blue eyes were very round, his face serious. "Well," he said. "We have been hearing stories of strange men in these parts. Men with grey faces and skin, and black hair, dressed in black. They ride grey horses. And there have been, in the last two years, three elves-" he glanced apologetically at Legolas- "who have been found dead in the woods outside Bree, between the Shire and Rivendell."
Legolas sat up quickly. He had heard of these deaths- two elves from Imladris, and one from Lorien- but he had not known of their circumstances, had only mourned them with his family and friends in Mirkwood.
"They were near to Bree?" he asked, confused. "I knew of their passing, but I did not know they had died away from their homes!"
Frodo nodded gravely. "And the odd thing about it all- as if elves dying isn't odd enough in itself- is the way they died. No fatal wound could be found on the bodies. The last one was just six months ago, when Sam and I went to Bree earlier this year. We were there when they found her."
Her. "Then it was Lauromen," Legolas murmured. Aragorn bowed his head- the young archeress of Rivendell had been a friend of Arwen's, and his wife had grieved heavily for several weeks after the news came to Minas Tirith.
"Lauromen. Pretty name," Sam remarked quietly. "It was such a shame, everyone in such an uproar when they found her- no weapons, no wounds, nothing. Just... lifeless. And her skin was all grey." He shuddered. "I ain't never seen anything like it."
Aragorn looked startled. "Her skin was grey?"
"Yes. Grey, like the men they've been seein' 'round here. It was frightenin', really."
*So this is why they have been concerned that I am here,* Legolas realized. *They think I'm going to be killed by some odd creature.*
Frodo tapped his pipe against his knee and frowned, as if he was thinking hard about something, then looked up. "There's something else," he said. "But I'm not sure if I want to tell you, because I don't want you two running to Bree and getting into danger because of me."
Sam folded his arms. "*I* sure wouldn't tell 'em," he asserted.
Aragorn smiled his most convincing, trustworthy smile. "Surely you must know that we'd find out anyway," he said. "And we're already going to Bree. Tell us, Frodo."
Frodo looked warily from Aragorn to Legolas, then sighed. "All right. But now I'm going to be worried- especially for you," he warned, nodding to Legolas. "About two weeks ago, an elf was seen in the Shire, here in Hobbiton, actually."
"I saw her!" Pippin's head had come up at that one. "Merry and I did, didn't we?"
"Yes, yes... we were exploring the south end of the woods when we saw her sneaking along the stream-bank. She had her bow and arrows with her, and she looked like she'd been spooked half to death-" Merry shrugged, realizing his mistake- "or, you know, whatever."
"She had no horse?" Legolas asked. He couldn't imagine an elf traveling this far from Rivendell without their horse.
"No, no horse. She looked like she wasn't herself, really. And she was an odd one, she was- if we hadn't seen her ears we wouldn't have known she was an elf. We watched her make her way east, then we ran back here."
Aragorn frowned. "I detected no murmur of elves among the hobbits here," he said. "Were you planning on keeping this a secret?"
Frodo took over with a slightly sheepish look. "I was going to send a message to you when the next rider came," he told his imposing friend. "And honestly, we expected she was just lost from her party- though I've never heard of an elf to get lost," he added, almost to himself.
"Well." Aragorn took a drag from his pipe. "That is interesting indeed. What does this lost elf-maiden have to do with Bree?"
"That's the thing," Sam said, rubbing his arms against a sudden chill in the soft breeze. "Frodo and I just got back from our trip to Bree, and when we were there we stayed at the Prancing Pony; and old Mr. Butterbur told us that the she-elf had come in, all banged up and lookin' a fright, and gotten a room. But then- she was captured." Sam's voice exaggerated the last word dramatically.
Legolas practically leapt to his feet. "Captured!" he cried. For any elf to be lost and alone was a dangerous thing indeed, but to be captured... that could veritably start a war with the Elfkind!
Frodo's eyes were, if possible, wider than before. "Butterbur said he saw the whole thing. It was those men, the grey ones; they came riding up and she dropped all of the sudden, like, like-" he struggled for words- "like she'd been poisoned, or something. And they took her right away."
"He watched this happen and did not do anything?" Legolas' voice was incredulous, but still quiet.
"These men, they're scary- they could have killed the whole tavern!" Sam spoke up.
*Still,* thought Legolas, annoyed. *I thought men were grateful enough to elves that they would intervene when one was being violently snatched off the street.*
Aragorn, as if sensing his turmoil, put a hand on Legolas' shoulder. "Well," he said, his voice serious. "Now it's settled. We must go to Bree and try to pick up the trail of this lost elf-maiden. We cannot leave her to this terrible fate."
Frodo sighed, looking very sad. "I knew I shouldn't have told you," he said glumly.
Sam, too, was despondent. "Don't you understand- they're after elves!" he cried, wringing his hands and sending pipe-ash floating out over the air. "Mr. Legolas isn't safe in these parts!"
Legolas shook off his anger and smiled at Sam. "Do not worry, my friend. I shall be fine. I always have been, for many, many years, through worse dangers than this."
Sam and Frodo would not be assured, however, and when Aragorn and Legolas set off the next morning for Bree, they could not help but notice how tightly they were embraced beforehand.
---
So, what happened to the lost elf? Who are these mysterious Grey Men? Next chapter coming soon! Please don't forget to review!