My little note: A slight revision to the end of Chapter One. See Chapter One for details. (Cheekily smiles) Also, Thanks to my lucky reviewers! Review my story, and good may come to you!

Chapter Two- How to get an Elf out of a Tree

         "How do you know my name, Creature?" Derek demanded, stabbing his sword upward in vain.

 The elf jumped lightly to another branch, settling into a more comfortable position.

 "Strider told me."

  Derek glanced at Strider, mouth agape. "You did?"

Ages ago," the elf continued with a short laugh. Strider nodded in agreement, then called up into the trees something in a language that Derek did not understand. The elf replied in kind, while Derek stood by, and tried to catch the gist of the conversation. After a few minutes of trying to look as if he understood, Derek gave up, in favor of examining their surroundings. The pale green light, which had so unnerved him before, now fell across the three like a blanket. Derek almost reached out to touch it, as if it was something he could hold in his hand. Beyond the edges of the light, which only continued for a few feet on each side, darkness creeping between the trees of the wood. Derek looked up, but the spaces between the trees above were filled only with dark sky. And stars. Thousands of stars. Derek breathed softly into the air, watching as the leaves fluttered above his head, straining against their weak bonds. There was nothing but trees, as far as the eye could see. And the shadows dancing across the forest like living things. And the eyes within the shadows. The eyes… Derek felt an involuntary chill creeping up his spine. He stayed within the circle of light, an island of hope amidst that sea of darkness. The rest of the men had now joined them under the tree, huddled together, while trying to look very brave, they were obviously confused. Why had they stopped , and who was Strider talking to, and why? And, as usual, they were looking to Derek for an explanation. He shrugged, trying to appear in control of the situation.

    "It's one of those creatures," he started to explain, when Strider cut him off in mid- sentence.

    "Derek. Say elves."

    "Eeeelvvves," he echoed dramatically. The lithe figure above shook with laughter.

    "Very good!"

Derek threw an irritated glance upward, into the branches of the tree, which was as close as he could get to the source of his continual embarrassment.

    "Will you come down?" Strider was asking the elf.

    "So your friend can skewer me with that dinner fork of his? I think not!"

 Strider raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "He is my responsibility. I promise he won't hurt you."

     The elf sniffed disdainfully. "Promises." He stood up, balancing on a forked branch just above their heads. "Well," he pointed a long finger at Derek, "Throw your weapon over there." Then, as an afterthought, "The rest of you too. Then I'll come down."

Derek noted that he said this as if he were doing them all a favor, instead of satisfying his own curiosity. iArrogant Elves/i

There was a murmur of disagreement at the command; the men looked to Strider for support, but were only greeted with a non- committal, "Do as he says."

While the rest of the men reluctantly obeyed, Derek solely refused to lay down his weapon. Strider entreated him several times, but to no avail.

     "I didn't sign up to take orders from a creat- an elf!"

 Strider sighed long- sufferingly, rolling his eyes upward as if seeking guidance. "Derek, as your superior, I personally ask you to lay down your weapon."

 Derek did not blink.

      "As your friend."

The elf shifted to another branch. Derek watched in silence.

      "As a great, great favor, Derek."

      "Strider," the elf spoke in a confidential whisper that was loud enough for all to hear. "Try money. It always works."

This remark was greeted by a few sniggers from the men. Derek whirled to glare at them, but his effort to silence them only resulted in louder chuckles and sniggers.

      "For money," Strider said, struggling to keep a straight face.

Derek blinked, an unreadable expression on his face.

      "Price, Strider," the elf goaded, jumping to another limb. "Give him a price."

 Strider looked blank, unsure of what to ask. He shrugged nonchalantly. "Whatever he asks."

There was a chorus of knowing aaaaahs from the men, some clapped Derek on the shoulder, urging him to obey the request and reminding him of their long-term friendship. Strider smiled, obviously enjoying Derek's discomfort. Meanwhile the elf sat above their heads with a satisfied expression, as if his one, chief joy in the world was to see a mortal feeling uncomfortable. Finally, Derek sighed his best I-have-better-things-to-do sigh, raising his hands for quiet. His voice was tinged with pride as he spoke.

      "No, price, no love, no loyalty will ever induce me to part with my sword, if I do not deem it necessary."

 The elf swung onto a branch directly above Derek's head. "It is not necessary for you to part from your sword, Master Derek. Just move over there where I told you and carry your sword with you."

The men roared with laugher at this, and Derek flushed with irritation. He looked to his right. Even Strider was laughing.

Embarrassed and irritated, Derek sheathed his sword and walked away from the group, muttering threats under his breath.

The elf jumped out of the tree as soon as Derek was gone, greeting Strider and the men heartily. Derek noticed, from his position about twenty feet away, that the elf was evidently at ease among the men, and talked as if they were old friends. Without looking interested, he took in the elf from the corner of his eye, it was, after all, the first elf he had ever seen. Contrary to popular opinion, this elf was tall. Very tall. He was slender, but strong, graceful, but masculine. He moved fluidly, and, as Derek noticed with distaste, constantly.

The elf flicked a strand of blonde hair over his shoulder, eyes sparkling curiously. This group of tired, dirty, well- traveled mortals was a rare sight in Mirkwood. Most of the men were from Dale, as he understood from their accents and clothing. He glanced over his shoulder at the one called Derek, who looked away right on cue. The elf shrugged, muttering something about the effect of travel on men's tempers.

     "What brings you this far into Mirkwood?" he questioned the others. "Men of Dale seldom visit these parts."

Strider put an arm on his friend's shoulder. "That," he said, "Is a tale for another day. But now, I was hoping you could lead us to your father's halls."

Derek pricked up his ears. iYour father's halls? Who was his father?/i

     "Of course I can," said the elf, "But that doesn't mean I will. As we all know," his eyes sparkled with mischief, "My father is not over fond of humans. Hmm. Perhaps I should surprise him."

     "Legolas, don't do anything that will come back to haunt you later. We can fend for ourselves if it's too much trouble."

iLegolas/i Derek made a mental note of the name. Mental notes could come in handy when it was time for revenge.

     Legolas was giving Strider a long-suffering look. "My dear friend Strider. Everything comes back to haunt me," he paused for a moment, and a shadow of something unreadable flashed across his eyes. Then he smiled. "And as for fending for yourself, well, we all know what a wonderful job you're doing."

     After dutifully toying with the idea for the space of about half an hour, Legolas had agreed to take them as far as Thranduil's halls. Once he had pointed out the trail they would be taking, he fell into step between Strider, who walked in front, and Derek, who walked beside him. Apologetically, he held out his hand.

       "Truce?" he requested.

Derek, surprised, took the proffered hand. "Truce."

       "Excellent. So, Derek of Lasgalen, how are you this fine day?"

Strider, who had been observing the trees as they walked, paused in his meditation to listen. He knew that tone of voice. It was the elf-wanting-information voice.

        "Uh, I'm doing very well, thank you."

        "Are you enjoying Mirkwood?" Legolas did his best imitation of a benevolent smile.

        "Well, yes."

        "You are just being polite, Master Derek. Tell me what you really think."

Derek sighed, his eyes growing distant. "I cannot help but hope we may finish this quest soon, so that I may return to my family."

        "You have a family?"

        "Yes. A wife, and two children."

        "I see." Legolas nodded understandingly. "And what keeps you from returning to them?"

        "Well, we're on a mission, you see. Four days ago our village was attacked by a-"

        "Legolas," Strider cleared his throat unceremoniously. "You should really stop."

With a cry of irritation, Legolas rounded on him. "Strider, you really have no right to talk. Here am I, far from home, minding my own business, when I suddenly find myself at sword point, which by the way Derek, I have not forgiven you for, and yet I have mercy upon you, invite you to my home-"

        "I practically begged you, Legolas, you know that."

        "I invite you to my home, and the least you can do is tell me what you're doing in my father's forest, but you won't. Now, the question is why?" And he folded his arms, tapping his foot impatiently. "I can't operate on little or no information, Strider."

   Derek did a double take. "Your father's forest? Your father is Thranduil?"

        "Yes," the elf said impatiently, as if it was something everyone in the world should know. "Took you long enough. It's because I'm not lugging my royal followers around these days. But believe it or not, they do exist. Strider?"

Strider rolled his eyes upward, and mouthed the word "patience." After a few seconds of silence, he shrugged his shoulders in defeat. "Alright, alright. Calm down and I'll tell you what happened…"

TBC