Title: Hunter and Prey, 4/?
Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Pairing: That would be telling.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Tolkien is God, yadda, yadda.
Warnings: Slash.
Archiving: Anyone who wants it, just let me know.
A/N: This has nothing to do with my previous Unspoken story arc, although
some of the characterizations are eerily similar. Updates will be
haphazard, but I promise to finish it.
* * *
Elrohir glanced over the long line of Hunters to the spot where Glorfindel was standing. He looked, if anything, rather bored. Elrohir had never felt less so himself, and could feel his palms sweat as he nervously tugged at the grey ribbon around his neck from which his small token dangled. Like the other Imladris' contestants, his had a silver center stone; the Mirkwood contingent had a green one and Lorien's was gold. Glancing about, he was very glad that he didn't have to stay in the field for long, for some of the other Hunters were looking at him almost hungrily. He'd forgotten just how large some of the military types were, and no doubt they were thinking that relieving him of his token would be an easy way to warm up.
One who was standing fairly close--a silvan from Lorien--even grinned at him, before dropping his eyes to the token he obviously expected soon to be his. Well, nothing doing. Elrohir wasn't going to leave the Hunt in shame and have his father, currently seated on an upper balcony of the house with a beaming grin on his face, look at him in disgust as he was disqualified. No, he might not be planning to win, but he couldn't afford to lose either. He intended to make sure than he and Glorfindel were still in the field when the final call sounded, and thus keep their honor intact. Maybe, he thought speculatively, it wouldn't hurt to insure that the two of them had also amassed a few tokens before he took them out of things, so to speak.
"All right, everyone get ready!" Erestor shot Elrohir a significant look as he held up a bright red handkerchief and waved it around. "When the trumpets sound, the field is open. Good luck to you all!" A second later, he dropped the handkerchief and three silver trumpets sent their song flying over the Hunter's heads. Immediately, all hell broke loose in the previously orderly lineup. Some of the Hunters--mostly the smaller ones-- sprinted full out for the tree line, apparently having decided that finding the prize first was their only chance to win. Elrohir had passed some of these the night before on his way to bed, huddled together in a stairwell discussing in hushed tones the various places where they were "sure" the standard had been hidden. He knew that any of the more obvious guesses were almost certainly duds, as his father had hidden the prize this year and his thought processes were nothing if not subtle.
Elrohir suddenly noticed that many of the Hunters were not running off to begin their search for the standard, but were employing other tactics. As usual, some groups were working in packs to prey on their fellows; once a large number of the weaker contestants had been eliminated, they would turn on each other. This year, however, some sort of agreement seemed to have been reached by the Imladris' guards, who were letting the Lorien and Mirkwood groups battle it out between them--with the result that thirty or so elves had lost their tokens within five minutes of the Hunt's start. Most of these, however, were the novices who had hurriedly joined the night before after Erestor's pronouncement; it looked like they'd be watching things from the house after all. At least they don't have far to walk back, Elrohir thought, dodging past the grasping arms of one of the Mirkwood hunters, then ducking under those of the determined looking Silvan. The two, he saw happily, ended up running into each other, with the Mirkwood Hunter then managing to tug the other's token over his head, much to the Silvan's outrage.
Nimble in a way that the larger Hunters were not, Elrohir threaded his way through the battles happening all around him toward where Glorfindel still stood. It was only as he drew near that he realized just why Imladris' guards were making almost no effort to enter the main fray; they obviously had a different priority. As Elrohir watched, a large circle of them closed in on Glorfindel, who was looking remarkably unconcerned about that fact. Elrohir was torn; on the one hand, he had promised to keep Glorfindel from winning, and so technically should stand aside and let the guards do his work for him. On the other hand, however, something inside him rebelled at the thought of seeing his mentor disqualified--which had never been part of the plan--and the sight of so many against one enraged him. Anyway, he argued with himself, had he and Erestor spent so much time thinking up the perfect solution only to have the guards make it irrelevant through the use of blunt force?
Before he really thought about what he was doing, Elrohir slipped through the steadily shrinking circle and pelted towards Glorfindel. He wasn't sure what he could do, really, as they were still seriously outnumbered, but just knew that he wanted to be with him. Before he could say anything, however, Glorfindel grabbed his arm and hissed at him to go back. "Now, Elrohir, get out of here! You don't understand!"
Elrohir merely shook his head dumbly, before a billowing cloud of grey-blue smoke unexpectedly enveloped the two of them, obscuring everything in the surrounding area from view. He only knew that Glorfindel still had hold of his arm because he could feel strong fingers pressing into his flesh; he couldn't see anything, nor could he speak. He heard shouts and curses all around him, but couldn't have added to them even had he wanted to, as he had accidentally inhaled a large amount of the smoke and was currently choking on it.
He felt Glorfindel tug him off to the side somewhere, and he followed blindly, with eyes watering and choking gasps coming from his throat. He could vaguely tell when they left the cloud behind, for things suddenly became lighter, but his eyes didn't seem to want to focus properly and he was half bent over, trying desperately to clear his lungs of the noxious fumes. "Run!," Glorfindel shouted at his ear, then dragged him forward at such a quick pace that Elrohir would have had trouble keeping up even under normal circumstances. He tried to protest as they pelted along, to explain that he couldn't see and was half incapacitated, but he still could not manage to draw a deep breath or to speak. Finally, after what felt like an age, they slowed down, and Elrohir could hear the faint, merry tinkle of a brook somewhere nearby.
"Here," he heard Glorfindel say from above as he was forced to his knees. A wet cloth was laid over his eyes, which immediately stopped them from stinging. A few seconds later and a container of some sort was held to his lips and Elrohir gratefully took a long drink of clear, cool water. Oh, yes, this was bliss. "Is that better?"
"Much," Elrohir managed to say and, removing the cloth from his eyes, found that he could actually see again. Things were still a bit blurry, but he rather thought that another rinsing should take care of that.
"Good." Elrohir looked up, not expecting from the mild tone to see the look of rage that had suffused his tutor's face. "Because you are now going to tell me just what in Mandos you thought you were doing, or I'll take this," and Glorfindel's hand closed over his token, "right now and send you back to the house with the other elflings."
Elrohir smiled weakly. Familiar territory, this. It seemed that he was in trouble yet again.
* * *
Haldir had been so tense for so long, that hearing the trumpets sound was almost a relief. Until, that was, he realized just how many hungry sets of eyes were focused on him. As last year's winner he had, of course, expected to be the chief target, but it was still a bit unnerving. He had a split second to reflect in gratitude that weapons were not allowed in the hunt, as otherwise he'd have certainly been pinned to the ground by at least a dozen arrows by now, before they were on him.
"This way!," the cry rang out just as two huge Mirkwood types, neither of which he knew, converged on him from different angles. He ignored the hand that was waving encouragingly at him from the sideline--for he well knew that no one in this teeming mass was his friend--and darted to the left. His pursuers followed, with one of them making a gesture at someone behind him. A brunette female dressed in Mirkwood attire grabbed him around the throat from behind, but he managed to flip her over his head and into the path of one of the bruisers in front of him. She screamed in outrage and turned, lithe as a cat, in what looked like midair. He ducked a split second before she reached him again and she went sailing over his head, but not before he'd deftly removed the green token from around her neck.
After that, things became so confused that Haldir almost ceased to consciously think at all, and just concentrated on ducking, spinning and, in a few cases, leaping over his opponents' heads in an effort to clear the melee. He didn't have time for this, not this year, he thought in irritation, as he swatted away another attempt to grab his token. Grasping the would-be thief's arm, he sent him careening into two of the Galadrim, thus opening a hole in the jostling crowd. Not wasting any time, he tore past the battling pairs and ran for the forest line, well aware that several Hunters had peeled away from the pack in pursuit.
Haldir jumped into the nearest tree and, when he felt a slight shudder in its limbs caused by a Hunter climbing up behind him, swung around and caught his pursuer with a foot to the chest. The Galadrim was knocked completely out of the tree, but somersaulted gracefully to the earth without noticeable injury. He immediate began to climb back up, but Haldir's mocking laughter stopped him.
"Are you sure you want to do that, Verron?," he asked, dangling the Hunter's token from his hand. "It's against the rules you know!"
Verron's free hand scrabbled at his chest, unable to believe that it was gone, then he glared upwards. "How did you do that? Your hands weren't anywhere near me!"
"Ahh, my friend," Haldir tutted slightly, "I am sorry but I don't have time to give lessons at the moment. Perhaps we can talk before next year," and turning, he vaulted into another tree as Verron stared disbelievingly after him. Haldir waited until he was well out of sight before tossing aside a long, thin stick. He'd used it to relieve his fellow guard of his ornament as he'd climbed up the tree. He then tucked the little disk into his pouch with the five others he'd managed to collect so far, and dropped lightly to the ground.
He looked about, but no one else seemed to have followed. That made him somewhat nervous, as he could have sworn that he'd heard two pairs of feet pounding after him. Yet he would certainly hear anyone who tried to pursue; dry leaves covered most surfaces, piling in dips and gullies in masses several feet deep in spots and sending an unmistakable warning of anyone's approach. He had heard many elves complaining about this in the last week, but Haldir himself preferred it. His hearing was considered excellent, even for an elf, so there wasn't much chance that anyone was going to be sneaking up on him. And he was not even slightly interested in pursuing them. No, for that foolish, infuriating Elladan had done him the favor of slipping that clue as to the standard's whereabouts, giving him an advantage over the rest of the field this year. Let the rest of them waste their time collecting tokens. None of that would matter when he brought the standard back.
Stopping himself from whistling only by the exertion of considerable willpower, Haldir struck off jauntily across the forest. It had been more than four hundred years since anyone had managed to win the prize two years in a row, but he was going to break the record, he was sure of it. Lost in happy thoughts, he never noticed the silent shadow that, after giving him an ample head start, drifted into the woods behind him.
* * *
Legolas accepted a refill from Lord Elrond and sipped it daintily as he watched Haldir dart across the open space towards the tree line. Legolas was rather pleased that he had managed to elude the Hunters so far. Although he was uncomfortable with the thought of Haldir winning again, especially after all the crowing he'd done after last year's victory, he also much preferred a good Hunt to a mediocre one and Haldir was always such fun. Remarking on that fact to Lord Elrond, he saw the elf's dark eyes crinkle in that attractive way of his as a smile spread across his face.
"You actually intend doing nothing, then," he teased. "Except sitting here and enjoying the show while the others win all the glory?"
Legolas grinned, and took another sip of his wine. It was an excellent vintage, but he was determined to go easy on it nonetheless. He had certainly had enough proof of the dangers of becoming too inebriated in this house. "But, my dear Lord Elrond!," he protested prettily, "To do otherwise would be to go against my father's strict instructions!"
"And being here at all does not?"
Legolas feigned shock. "Are you insinuating that you'd tell?"
Elrond settled back in his chair. "Most certainly not. I greatly enjoy your presence, Legolas, as you know. I would hardly do anything to help remove it."
Legolas smirked and glanced over the railing to where Erestor was being jostled around by the crowd of Hunters still trapped near the starting point. It looked a great deal like some of the pushing, shoving and tripping he was undergoing was deliberate. "Have you convinced him yet?," Legolas murmured, so quietly that the half dozen elves seated behind them noticed nothing.
Elrond moved slightly forward, seemingly enthralled by the all out brawl going on below. "It's as we planned," he murmured into his wine goblet. "As long as Glorfindel wins . . . "
Legolas drained the rest of his glass and sat it down on a nearby table with a purposeful thump. Stretching, he rose lightly to his feet. "Well, Lord Elrond," he said, back to his normal tones, "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll just go and mingle down below."
Elrond looked up at him, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "You'd have a much better view from here," he protested.
Legolas glanced out onto the field to see Glorfindel and Elrohir disappear into a haze of battle smoke. He supposed that, technically, that didn't count as a weapon and so had to be allowed. Clever of Glorfindel to have thought of it; it made one wonder what else might be up his sleeve. He glanced down at Elrond, whose long form was draped elegantly over his chair. The older elf obviously had full faith in his seneschal, and intended to enjoy the day, confident in his abilities to win his bet for him. Legolas, however, was too restless to take that option, and besides, it wasn't as if the other side wasn't cheating for all it was worth. He had seen Erestor closeted with several dozen of the guards after his speech the night before, and recognized a number of them in the bemused looking circle presently blindly feeling its way across the field amidst clouds of noxious fumes. It wasn't the guards who particularly worried him, however.
His eyes narrowed as they followed the stumbling figure of Elrohir as he and Glorfindel took advantage of the guards' confusion to make a run for the trees. When he had first agreed to help Elladan in his absurd plan to get his brother and Imladris' seneschal together, Legolas had discounted the elfling's abilities, assuming that, as he told Elladan, Glorfindel would surely have him tied to a tree within a few minutes if he tried to interfere with him. "It isn't as if I don't want to help, melethryn," he had protested, "but I don't see how this is supposed to work. If you want them to spend time together, lock them in a room and put a guard--or possibly five or six--on the door. I simply don't understand how this is supposed to help."
Elladan had shaken his head and propped his feet up on Legolas' hassock. "You don't know my brother, gwador," he'd replied. "He tenses up around Glorfindel to the point that he can barely carry on a decent conversation." He looked disgusted for a moment, then laughed. "I've tried everything, you know--all year I've worked my poor fingers to the bone trying to get those two together, but nothing works. If Glorfindel enters a room, Elrohir is just leaving it. If I get injured and can't ride out to oversee the borders, Elrohir manages to find someone to do it--but never himself! If I manage to move the seating arrangement around so that they are stuck next to each other at every meal, they both resolutely talk to their neighbor on the other side or across from them--never to each other! It is enough to drive a person completely mad!"
"But, are you entirely sure that Elrohir really is taken with him? It doesn't sound much like it to me."
"I'm sure." Elladan had sounded certain. "I know my brother, and trust me, he's just as helplessly attracted to Glorfindel as vice versa, but neither of them have the sense to see it!"
"That still doesn't explain how my giving my place up to Glorfindel in this year's hunt is going to aid your hopes."
"It will help, my dear Legolas, because Elrohir is one of the most stubborn elves I've ever known. Once given a task, he'll stick to it no matter what- -and this task will throw he and Glorfindel together for the better part of twenty-four hours. If they can't figure out that they're made for each other in that length of time, then I wash my hands of them."
"If Elrohir can manage not to get left up a tree," Legolas had murmured.
Elladan smirked. "Trust me, my friend, you don't know my brother. I assure you that he is far more skillful than he looks."
Which was, of course, exactly what was worrying Legolas now. Within a scant few minutes, not only had Elrohir dodged at least six different attempts on his token, one of them by a warrior Legolas knew to be among the most skillful in Mirkwood, but had also managed to get towed off the field by Glorfindel himself, who would now probably consider him his charge seeing as how he'd half blinded him with battle smoke. It wouldn't surprise Legolas at all if Glorfindel even decided to team up with Elrohir, without knowing what the little miscreant intended, thus giving him the perfect opportunity to lead him into whatever trap Erestor had helped to create.
Legolas looked down again to see Erestor swatting fussily at the hands and elbows that kept "accidentally" bumping him. Oh, yes, lovely, crafty Erestor had had well over a week to make all kinds of plans, and his position as Hunt Master gave him the added advantage of being able to rule virtually anything legal. So no, Legolas could not say that he shared Elrond's optimism.
Yet Legolas had a pressing need for Glorfindel to win, one he hadn't bothered to mention to Elladan. After all, Elrond's proposition had been made--to Legolas' delighted surprise--after he had fulfilled his bargain with Elladan by giving up his place in the hunt. He was, therefore, perfectly within his rights to do whatever he could to see that Glorfindel won. And, he reminded his conscience, he had never promised Elladan not to interfere, and the prize for managing Glorfindel's victory was just too high to refuse.
"Legolas," Elrond commented gently, bringing him back to the present, "I believe you're blocking the view."
Legolas turned with a smile to the elves behind him, and sketched them a little bow. "My apologies," he said lightly, "and to you as well my Lord. If you will excuse me? I think I'll just go . . . get a bit of exercise."
He departed the royal box with Elrond's amused laughter still echoing in his ears. Legolas grinned as he lightly skipped down the main staircase. This ought to be fun.
TBC
* * *
Elrohir glanced over the long line of Hunters to the spot where Glorfindel was standing. He looked, if anything, rather bored. Elrohir had never felt less so himself, and could feel his palms sweat as he nervously tugged at the grey ribbon around his neck from which his small token dangled. Like the other Imladris' contestants, his had a silver center stone; the Mirkwood contingent had a green one and Lorien's was gold. Glancing about, he was very glad that he didn't have to stay in the field for long, for some of the other Hunters were looking at him almost hungrily. He'd forgotten just how large some of the military types were, and no doubt they were thinking that relieving him of his token would be an easy way to warm up.
One who was standing fairly close--a silvan from Lorien--even grinned at him, before dropping his eyes to the token he obviously expected soon to be his. Well, nothing doing. Elrohir wasn't going to leave the Hunt in shame and have his father, currently seated on an upper balcony of the house with a beaming grin on his face, look at him in disgust as he was disqualified. No, he might not be planning to win, but he couldn't afford to lose either. He intended to make sure than he and Glorfindel were still in the field when the final call sounded, and thus keep their honor intact. Maybe, he thought speculatively, it wouldn't hurt to insure that the two of them had also amassed a few tokens before he took them out of things, so to speak.
"All right, everyone get ready!" Erestor shot Elrohir a significant look as he held up a bright red handkerchief and waved it around. "When the trumpets sound, the field is open. Good luck to you all!" A second later, he dropped the handkerchief and three silver trumpets sent their song flying over the Hunter's heads. Immediately, all hell broke loose in the previously orderly lineup. Some of the Hunters--mostly the smaller ones-- sprinted full out for the tree line, apparently having decided that finding the prize first was their only chance to win. Elrohir had passed some of these the night before on his way to bed, huddled together in a stairwell discussing in hushed tones the various places where they were "sure" the standard had been hidden. He knew that any of the more obvious guesses were almost certainly duds, as his father had hidden the prize this year and his thought processes were nothing if not subtle.
Elrohir suddenly noticed that many of the Hunters were not running off to begin their search for the standard, but were employing other tactics. As usual, some groups were working in packs to prey on their fellows; once a large number of the weaker contestants had been eliminated, they would turn on each other. This year, however, some sort of agreement seemed to have been reached by the Imladris' guards, who were letting the Lorien and Mirkwood groups battle it out between them--with the result that thirty or so elves had lost their tokens within five minutes of the Hunt's start. Most of these, however, were the novices who had hurriedly joined the night before after Erestor's pronouncement; it looked like they'd be watching things from the house after all. At least they don't have far to walk back, Elrohir thought, dodging past the grasping arms of one of the Mirkwood hunters, then ducking under those of the determined looking Silvan. The two, he saw happily, ended up running into each other, with the Mirkwood Hunter then managing to tug the other's token over his head, much to the Silvan's outrage.
Nimble in a way that the larger Hunters were not, Elrohir threaded his way through the battles happening all around him toward where Glorfindel still stood. It was only as he drew near that he realized just why Imladris' guards were making almost no effort to enter the main fray; they obviously had a different priority. As Elrohir watched, a large circle of them closed in on Glorfindel, who was looking remarkably unconcerned about that fact. Elrohir was torn; on the one hand, he had promised to keep Glorfindel from winning, and so technically should stand aside and let the guards do his work for him. On the other hand, however, something inside him rebelled at the thought of seeing his mentor disqualified--which had never been part of the plan--and the sight of so many against one enraged him. Anyway, he argued with himself, had he and Erestor spent so much time thinking up the perfect solution only to have the guards make it irrelevant through the use of blunt force?
Before he really thought about what he was doing, Elrohir slipped through the steadily shrinking circle and pelted towards Glorfindel. He wasn't sure what he could do, really, as they were still seriously outnumbered, but just knew that he wanted to be with him. Before he could say anything, however, Glorfindel grabbed his arm and hissed at him to go back. "Now, Elrohir, get out of here! You don't understand!"
Elrohir merely shook his head dumbly, before a billowing cloud of grey-blue smoke unexpectedly enveloped the two of them, obscuring everything in the surrounding area from view. He only knew that Glorfindel still had hold of his arm because he could feel strong fingers pressing into his flesh; he couldn't see anything, nor could he speak. He heard shouts and curses all around him, but couldn't have added to them even had he wanted to, as he had accidentally inhaled a large amount of the smoke and was currently choking on it.
He felt Glorfindel tug him off to the side somewhere, and he followed blindly, with eyes watering and choking gasps coming from his throat. He could vaguely tell when they left the cloud behind, for things suddenly became lighter, but his eyes didn't seem to want to focus properly and he was half bent over, trying desperately to clear his lungs of the noxious fumes. "Run!," Glorfindel shouted at his ear, then dragged him forward at such a quick pace that Elrohir would have had trouble keeping up even under normal circumstances. He tried to protest as they pelted along, to explain that he couldn't see and was half incapacitated, but he still could not manage to draw a deep breath or to speak. Finally, after what felt like an age, they slowed down, and Elrohir could hear the faint, merry tinkle of a brook somewhere nearby.
"Here," he heard Glorfindel say from above as he was forced to his knees. A wet cloth was laid over his eyes, which immediately stopped them from stinging. A few seconds later and a container of some sort was held to his lips and Elrohir gratefully took a long drink of clear, cool water. Oh, yes, this was bliss. "Is that better?"
"Much," Elrohir managed to say and, removing the cloth from his eyes, found that he could actually see again. Things were still a bit blurry, but he rather thought that another rinsing should take care of that.
"Good." Elrohir looked up, not expecting from the mild tone to see the look of rage that had suffused his tutor's face. "Because you are now going to tell me just what in Mandos you thought you were doing, or I'll take this," and Glorfindel's hand closed over his token, "right now and send you back to the house with the other elflings."
Elrohir smiled weakly. Familiar territory, this. It seemed that he was in trouble yet again.
* * *
Haldir had been so tense for so long, that hearing the trumpets sound was almost a relief. Until, that was, he realized just how many hungry sets of eyes were focused on him. As last year's winner he had, of course, expected to be the chief target, but it was still a bit unnerving. He had a split second to reflect in gratitude that weapons were not allowed in the hunt, as otherwise he'd have certainly been pinned to the ground by at least a dozen arrows by now, before they were on him.
"This way!," the cry rang out just as two huge Mirkwood types, neither of which he knew, converged on him from different angles. He ignored the hand that was waving encouragingly at him from the sideline--for he well knew that no one in this teeming mass was his friend--and darted to the left. His pursuers followed, with one of them making a gesture at someone behind him. A brunette female dressed in Mirkwood attire grabbed him around the throat from behind, but he managed to flip her over his head and into the path of one of the bruisers in front of him. She screamed in outrage and turned, lithe as a cat, in what looked like midair. He ducked a split second before she reached him again and she went sailing over his head, but not before he'd deftly removed the green token from around her neck.
After that, things became so confused that Haldir almost ceased to consciously think at all, and just concentrated on ducking, spinning and, in a few cases, leaping over his opponents' heads in an effort to clear the melee. He didn't have time for this, not this year, he thought in irritation, as he swatted away another attempt to grab his token. Grasping the would-be thief's arm, he sent him careening into two of the Galadrim, thus opening a hole in the jostling crowd. Not wasting any time, he tore past the battling pairs and ran for the forest line, well aware that several Hunters had peeled away from the pack in pursuit.
Haldir jumped into the nearest tree and, when he felt a slight shudder in its limbs caused by a Hunter climbing up behind him, swung around and caught his pursuer with a foot to the chest. The Galadrim was knocked completely out of the tree, but somersaulted gracefully to the earth without noticeable injury. He immediate began to climb back up, but Haldir's mocking laughter stopped him.
"Are you sure you want to do that, Verron?," he asked, dangling the Hunter's token from his hand. "It's against the rules you know!"
Verron's free hand scrabbled at his chest, unable to believe that it was gone, then he glared upwards. "How did you do that? Your hands weren't anywhere near me!"
"Ahh, my friend," Haldir tutted slightly, "I am sorry but I don't have time to give lessons at the moment. Perhaps we can talk before next year," and turning, he vaulted into another tree as Verron stared disbelievingly after him. Haldir waited until he was well out of sight before tossing aside a long, thin stick. He'd used it to relieve his fellow guard of his ornament as he'd climbed up the tree. He then tucked the little disk into his pouch with the five others he'd managed to collect so far, and dropped lightly to the ground.
He looked about, but no one else seemed to have followed. That made him somewhat nervous, as he could have sworn that he'd heard two pairs of feet pounding after him. Yet he would certainly hear anyone who tried to pursue; dry leaves covered most surfaces, piling in dips and gullies in masses several feet deep in spots and sending an unmistakable warning of anyone's approach. He had heard many elves complaining about this in the last week, but Haldir himself preferred it. His hearing was considered excellent, even for an elf, so there wasn't much chance that anyone was going to be sneaking up on him. And he was not even slightly interested in pursuing them. No, for that foolish, infuriating Elladan had done him the favor of slipping that clue as to the standard's whereabouts, giving him an advantage over the rest of the field this year. Let the rest of them waste their time collecting tokens. None of that would matter when he brought the standard back.
Stopping himself from whistling only by the exertion of considerable willpower, Haldir struck off jauntily across the forest. It had been more than four hundred years since anyone had managed to win the prize two years in a row, but he was going to break the record, he was sure of it. Lost in happy thoughts, he never noticed the silent shadow that, after giving him an ample head start, drifted into the woods behind him.
* * *
Legolas accepted a refill from Lord Elrond and sipped it daintily as he watched Haldir dart across the open space towards the tree line. Legolas was rather pleased that he had managed to elude the Hunters so far. Although he was uncomfortable with the thought of Haldir winning again, especially after all the crowing he'd done after last year's victory, he also much preferred a good Hunt to a mediocre one and Haldir was always such fun. Remarking on that fact to Lord Elrond, he saw the elf's dark eyes crinkle in that attractive way of his as a smile spread across his face.
"You actually intend doing nothing, then," he teased. "Except sitting here and enjoying the show while the others win all the glory?"
Legolas grinned, and took another sip of his wine. It was an excellent vintage, but he was determined to go easy on it nonetheless. He had certainly had enough proof of the dangers of becoming too inebriated in this house. "But, my dear Lord Elrond!," he protested prettily, "To do otherwise would be to go against my father's strict instructions!"
"And being here at all does not?"
Legolas feigned shock. "Are you insinuating that you'd tell?"
Elrond settled back in his chair. "Most certainly not. I greatly enjoy your presence, Legolas, as you know. I would hardly do anything to help remove it."
Legolas smirked and glanced over the railing to where Erestor was being jostled around by the crowd of Hunters still trapped near the starting point. It looked a great deal like some of the pushing, shoving and tripping he was undergoing was deliberate. "Have you convinced him yet?," Legolas murmured, so quietly that the half dozen elves seated behind them noticed nothing.
Elrond moved slightly forward, seemingly enthralled by the all out brawl going on below. "It's as we planned," he murmured into his wine goblet. "As long as Glorfindel wins . . . "
Legolas drained the rest of his glass and sat it down on a nearby table with a purposeful thump. Stretching, he rose lightly to his feet. "Well, Lord Elrond," he said, back to his normal tones, "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll just go and mingle down below."
Elrond looked up at him, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "You'd have a much better view from here," he protested.
Legolas glanced out onto the field to see Glorfindel and Elrohir disappear into a haze of battle smoke. He supposed that, technically, that didn't count as a weapon and so had to be allowed. Clever of Glorfindel to have thought of it; it made one wonder what else might be up his sleeve. He glanced down at Elrond, whose long form was draped elegantly over his chair. The older elf obviously had full faith in his seneschal, and intended to enjoy the day, confident in his abilities to win his bet for him. Legolas, however, was too restless to take that option, and besides, it wasn't as if the other side wasn't cheating for all it was worth. He had seen Erestor closeted with several dozen of the guards after his speech the night before, and recognized a number of them in the bemused looking circle presently blindly feeling its way across the field amidst clouds of noxious fumes. It wasn't the guards who particularly worried him, however.
His eyes narrowed as they followed the stumbling figure of Elrohir as he and Glorfindel took advantage of the guards' confusion to make a run for the trees. When he had first agreed to help Elladan in his absurd plan to get his brother and Imladris' seneschal together, Legolas had discounted the elfling's abilities, assuming that, as he told Elladan, Glorfindel would surely have him tied to a tree within a few minutes if he tried to interfere with him. "It isn't as if I don't want to help, melethryn," he had protested, "but I don't see how this is supposed to work. If you want them to spend time together, lock them in a room and put a guard--or possibly five or six--on the door. I simply don't understand how this is supposed to help."
Elladan had shaken his head and propped his feet up on Legolas' hassock. "You don't know my brother, gwador," he'd replied. "He tenses up around Glorfindel to the point that he can barely carry on a decent conversation." He looked disgusted for a moment, then laughed. "I've tried everything, you know--all year I've worked my poor fingers to the bone trying to get those two together, but nothing works. If Glorfindel enters a room, Elrohir is just leaving it. If I get injured and can't ride out to oversee the borders, Elrohir manages to find someone to do it--but never himself! If I manage to move the seating arrangement around so that they are stuck next to each other at every meal, they both resolutely talk to their neighbor on the other side or across from them--never to each other! It is enough to drive a person completely mad!"
"But, are you entirely sure that Elrohir really is taken with him? It doesn't sound much like it to me."
"I'm sure." Elladan had sounded certain. "I know my brother, and trust me, he's just as helplessly attracted to Glorfindel as vice versa, but neither of them have the sense to see it!"
"That still doesn't explain how my giving my place up to Glorfindel in this year's hunt is going to aid your hopes."
"It will help, my dear Legolas, because Elrohir is one of the most stubborn elves I've ever known. Once given a task, he'll stick to it no matter what- -and this task will throw he and Glorfindel together for the better part of twenty-four hours. If they can't figure out that they're made for each other in that length of time, then I wash my hands of them."
"If Elrohir can manage not to get left up a tree," Legolas had murmured.
Elladan smirked. "Trust me, my friend, you don't know my brother. I assure you that he is far more skillful than he looks."
Which was, of course, exactly what was worrying Legolas now. Within a scant few minutes, not only had Elrohir dodged at least six different attempts on his token, one of them by a warrior Legolas knew to be among the most skillful in Mirkwood, but had also managed to get towed off the field by Glorfindel himself, who would now probably consider him his charge seeing as how he'd half blinded him with battle smoke. It wouldn't surprise Legolas at all if Glorfindel even decided to team up with Elrohir, without knowing what the little miscreant intended, thus giving him the perfect opportunity to lead him into whatever trap Erestor had helped to create.
Legolas looked down again to see Erestor swatting fussily at the hands and elbows that kept "accidentally" bumping him. Oh, yes, lovely, crafty Erestor had had well over a week to make all kinds of plans, and his position as Hunt Master gave him the added advantage of being able to rule virtually anything legal. So no, Legolas could not say that he shared Elrond's optimism.
Yet Legolas had a pressing need for Glorfindel to win, one he hadn't bothered to mention to Elladan. After all, Elrond's proposition had been made--to Legolas' delighted surprise--after he had fulfilled his bargain with Elladan by giving up his place in the hunt. He was, therefore, perfectly within his rights to do whatever he could to see that Glorfindel won. And, he reminded his conscience, he had never promised Elladan not to interfere, and the prize for managing Glorfindel's victory was just too high to refuse.
"Legolas," Elrond commented gently, bringing him back to the present, "I believe you're blocking the view."
Legolas turned with a smile to the elves behind him, and sketched them a little bow. "My apologies," he said lightly, "and to you as well my Lord. If you will excuse me? I think I'll just go . . . get a bit of exercise."
He departed the royal box with Elrond's amused laughter still echoing in his ears. Legolas grinned as he lightly skipped down the main staircase. This ought to be fun.
TBC
