Legolas Greenleaf: Agent of MESS
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Disclaimer: Legolas Greenleaf and associated characters belong to JRR Tolkien. The James Bond concept was created by Ian Fleming. A few odd characters and moments belong elsewhere.
Author's Notes: Eowyn is actually quite a Bond girl, isn't she? Oh well. I borrowed a joke from Shrek. Yes, I am ashamed. And just for me, I'd like you all to pretend that it isn't far from Edoras to Isengard. Pretty please?
Thanks go to my reviewers: AB4, Empress of Alvarra and Deana. You're all great! Oh, and so's Julia. She's betaing this for me. Being as she sat there reading what I posted then gleefully pointed out my typos, she can check them first. Cheers, hon!
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Chapter 4. Invitation to Dinner
Greenleaf spent the next day acclimatising and gathering as much information as he could. As King Theoden had predicted, an invitation arrived from Saruman that morning. It cordially invited "Prince Legolas Greenleaf" to a formal meal that evening in Orthanc, Isengard, in the company of the Istar, Saruman. The dress code was formal, and Greenleaf was glad that he had packed a formal outfit. He doubted that he'd be able to get into the wizard's stronghold to look for the ring, though a chance to spy out the lay of the land was advantageous. Into the Warg's lair, as it were.
Of course, it was a possibility that Saruman would recognise him from the Rivendell halls. Hopefully he would not. It had been dark that night, and the battle too fast and fierce for the wizard to have got a close look as his face. Even so, Greenleaf decided to go with a change of hairstyle, leaving it loose, but topped with a silver circlet denoting his status. As it seemed that Saruman knew of his royalty, he felt it would be expected of him. Also, it would further mask his connections with the service. Together with a long tunic in the Silvan colours of green and brown, he felt he was in a suitably princely outfit, though one that was still eminently practical.
He went down to the stables early that afternoon, allowing himself plenty of time to reach Orthanc. By Shadowfax's stall stood Eowyn in another white dress. She looked up surprised -pretending, Greenleaf thought- as he walked up.
"I was just admiring your horse," she said, "he's very handsome. What's he called?"
"Shadowfax," Greenleaf replied, "ands he's more than just handsome."
"I'm sure," Eowyn said, smiling and stroking the horse's nose. "Of what stock is he? Where was he bred? By whom?"
"By our horsemen, dear niece," the voice of Theoden said as the King came into the stables, "I bade our friend Gandalf take him when he was here last. And it seems that he has prospered under the old man's care, has he not?"
"Indeed sir," Greenleaf commented, "he is one of the finest beasts I have had the privilege of riding."
"I hope he serves you well," Theoden said, "but we must be elsewhere. Come, niece, we all have our duties." He swept off through the stable. Eowyn moved to follow him, then paused, turned and kissed Greenleaf on the cheek, blushing faintly even as she did.
"Good luck, Legolas," she whispered, then hurried out. He watched her go before unfastening the stall door.
"Out you come, old boy," he said, "we've got quite a way to go."
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It was indeed quite a way, though on any other horse the journey would have been longer. On the way, Greenleaf found his thoughts returning to the Lady Eowyn. He allowed his mind to think on her looks, as he would with any other female of passable appearance. But more he would not dwell on. The woman was just trying to ensnare him, like every other woman. No matter how they tried to prove otherwise, following male pursuits and all that, they were all being typically female, only really interested in finding a husband and having children. All women were the same, with perhaps a few exceptions. G was one of these. Greenleaf respected her almost as a man, knowing that she was totally committed to her job. But even so, she was the same. She was old -though she didn't look it- and had already had her children and grandchildren.
No, Greenleaf decided emphatically, no woman could ever be like a man. Even Eowyn the "shieldmaiden" with her fancy questions on horse-breeding could manage to disguise the fact that she was a woman, and therefore a distraction. And as Greenleaf thought this, he realised that he had indeed been distracted. A steadily approaching group of five riders was behind him and coming up fast. Feeling sure that Shadowfax was more than a match for any of their beasts, Greenleaf allowed them to draw closer, using the time to recall geographical features from the map he had studied before setting out.
With a nudge to Shadowfax's flank, Greenleaf shot off, guiding the horse up a narrow mountain path. The riders followed. Greenleaf smiled, knowing that he was nowhere near top speed. The chase sped up the path, faster and faster as they got higher and higher. Soon the back rider, a portlier man than the rest, had skidded from the path, falling from his mount and down into the valley. The remaining four gained on Shadowfax, and Greenleaf allowed them to for a moment. Then he urged the white stallion on, pulling ahead again. He was reaching the sort of speed that he enjoyed; a fast, dangerous speed. To a Man's eyes the landscape would be blurred, hurrying past at a great rate, but to an Elf's it was crystal clear.
Something whizzed past Greenleaf's ear and he ducked reflexively. Looking back, he saw that some of his pursuers had drawn crossbows and were firing them at him. Dodging another shot, he pointed Shadowfax off the path and up the steeper slopes. Time to turn up the heat, he thought grimly. The riders followed, though one fell almost instantly, cracking his head on a large rock. Another slipped shortly after, falling with his horse into a steep ravine. Greenleaf felt a moment's pity for the beast, but was concerned with more pressing matters.
The two remaining horsemen were tightly on his trail. Even he had to be impressed with their tenacity and skill, though they were still not deserving of his respect. They wanted to kill him, and had no particular finesse in their manner of execution. Wanting to be rid of them as soon as possible, Greenleaf bent forward to whisper in Shadowfax's ear, then swung his legs over to sit backwards on the horse's back. His bow was off his back and in his hands, an arrow on the string, in seconds, shooting off an instant later to fell the back horseman. The body jerked and twisted down the rocky incline, ending up face first in a bush.
There was now only one rider left. Greenleaf span back to face front again, returning his bow to his back and pulling out his knife. As the man drew up, helped by Shadowfax dropping back under Greenleaf's command, he grinned through his beard. The grin soon turned into a grimace as the Elf grabbed him and pressed the edge of his blade against the filthy throat.
"Who paid you?" Greenleaf demanded, tightening his hold.
"No one," the man choked, "we . . . bandits. We . . . not paid."
"Somebody told you to go after me," Greenleaf insisted, "who?"
"Oh . . ." the man gasped. "Arse . . ." He shoved his head forward and slit his own throat on Greenleaf's knife. The Elf scowled and dropped the body, after wiping his blade clean on the man's shirt. He had got precious little from that encounter, save for the fact that someone wanted him dead (not an uncommon occurrence), but maybe there was something of use. He wheeled Shadowfax about and aimed to rejoin the path he had been following previously.
The man's last remark could just have been an expression of his anger, but Greenleaf knew that for the most part men had far coarser words in their vocabulary to use in such an instance. It was most likely therefore that it had been a reference to ARSE, the Army (Republic) of Saruman the Excellent. If this was so, then Saruman would have been behind the attack. This was not something that Greenleaf wanted now, while he was headed straight for Saruman's stronghold. Perhaps he had just warned his soldiers to be on the lookout for a golden-haired Elf, but it was more probable that the wizard had put two and two together alarmingly quickly. He may have had information from inside Edoras. He was wily; he knew that a bandit attack in the mountains would never be traced to him, and it would prove a tragic -yet blame free on his part- end to the Prince of Mirkwood.
Unluckily for him, Greenleaf and his steed were made of stronger stuff. They travelled on in the sunlight, never deviating from the remainder of their path towards Orthanc. Greenleaf resettled his hair, thanking the Valar for the umpteenth time that it took far more than that to get an Elf sweaty. It was just as well that the blood of the so-called bandit hadn't sprayed over his clothes. That would have looked bad.
Soon the tall tower of Orthanc loomed up among the mountain slopes. It was polished black, reflecting the sunlight and making it feel cold. The end was two-pronged, like a gigantic tuning-fork, and it greatly resembled Saruman's staff, as Greenleaf remembered from his close encounter with it in Rivendell. He gazed at the proud length, its thrusting points and its firm base, and he smiled suddenly. He's compensating for something, he thought. His type always is.
The gates were below him, down the slope, so Greenleaf cantered the rest of the way. The magnificent horse and his own proud bearing would blind onlookers to much else, giving no hint of his true intentions. He would appear only as a Prince for now, as he was expected to do.
"I am expected," he said somewhat imperiously, waving his invitation to the guard on the gates.
"Straight on through, yer highness," the guard replied, opening the gates and tugging the front of his helmet respectfully. "Nobby'll take yer horse."
Greenleaf rode slowly through the tall gates and into Isengard.
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:::::::::::::::::::
Disclaimer: Legolas Greenleaf and associated characters belong to JRR Tolkien. The James Bond concept was created by Ian Fleming. A few odd characters and moments belong elsewhere.
Author's Notes: Eowyn is actually quite a Bond girl, isn't she? Oh well. I borrowed a joke from Shrek. Yes, I am ashamed. And just for me, I'd like you all to pretend that it isn't far from Edoras to Isengard. Pretty please?
Thanks go to my reviewers: AB4, Empress of Alvarra and Deana. You're all great! Oh, and so's Julia. She's betaing this for me. Being as she sat there reading what I posted then gleefully pointed out my typos, she can check them first. Cheers, hon!
:::::::::::::::::::
Chapter 4. Invitation to Dinner
Greenleaf spent the next day acclimatising and gathering as much information as he could. As King Theoden had predicted, an invitation arrived from Saruman that morning. It cordially invited "Prince Legolas Greenleaf" to a formal meal that evening in Orthanc, Isengard, in the company of the Istar, Saruman. The dress code was formal, and Greenleaf was glad that he had packed a formal outfit. He doubted that he'd be able to get into the wizard's stronghold to look for the ring, though a chance to spy out the lay of the land was advantageous. Into the Warg's lair, as it were.
Of course, it was a possibility that Saruman would recognise him from the Rivendell halls. Hopefully he would not. It had been dark that night, and the battle too fast and fierce for the wizard to have got a close look as his face. Even so, Greenleaf decided to go with a change of hairstyle, leaving it loose, but topped with a silver circlet denoting his status. As it seemed that Saruman knew of his royalty, he felt it would be expected of him. Also, it would further mask his connections with the service. Together with a long tunic in the Silvan colours of green and brown, he felt he was in a suitably princely outfit, though one that was still eminently practical.
He went down to the stables early that afternoon, allowing himself plenty of time to reach Orthanc. By Shadowfax's stall stood Eowyn in another white dress. She looked up surprised -pretending, Greenleaf thought- as he walked up.
"I was just admiring your horse," she said, "he's very handsome. What's he called?"
"Shadowfax," Greenleaf replied, "ands he's more than just handsome."
"I'm sure," Eowyn said, smiling and stroking the horse's nose. "Of what stock is he? Where was he bred? By whom?"
"By our horsemen, dear niece," the voice of Theoden said as the King came into the stables, "I bade our friend Gandalf take him when he was here last. And it seems that he has prospered under the old man's care, has he not?"
"Indeed sir," Greenleaf commented, "he is one of the finest beasts I have had the privilege of riding."
"I hope he serves you well," Theoden said, "but we must be elsewhere. Come, niece, we all have our duties." He swept off through the stable. Eowyn moved to follow him, then paused, turned and kissed Greenleaf on the cheek, blushing faintly even as she did.
"Good luck, Legolas," she whispered, then hurried out. He watched her go before unfastening the stall door.
"Out you come, old boy," he said, "we've got quite a way to go."
:::::::::::::::::::
It was indeed quite a way, though on any other horse the journey would have been longer. On the way, Greenleaf found his thoughts returning to the Lady Eowyn. He allowed his mind to think on her looks, as he would with any other female of passable appearance. But more he would not dwell on. The woman was just trying to ensnare him, like every other woman. No matter how they tried to prove otherwise, following male pursuits and all that, they were all being typically female, only really interested in finding a husband and having children. All women were the same, with perhaps a few exceptions. G was one of these. Greenleaf respected her almost as a man, knowing that she was totally committed to her job. But even so, she was the same. She was old -though she didn't look it- and had already had her children and grandchildren.
No, Greenleaf decided emphatically, no woman could ever be like a man. Even Eowyn the "shieldmaiden" with her fancy questions on horse-breeding could manage to disguise the fact that she was a woman, and therefore a distraction. And as Greenleaf thought this, he realised that he had indeed been distracted. A steadily approaching group of five riders was behind him and coming up fast. Feeling sure that Shadowfax was more than a match for any of their beasts, Greenleaf allowed them to draw closer, using the time to recall geographical features from the map he had studied before setting out.
With a nudge to Shadowfax's flank, Greenleaf shot off, guiding the horse up a narrow mountain path. The riders followed. Greenleaf smiled, knowing that he was nowhere near top speed. The chase sped up the path, faster and faster as they got higher and higher. Soon the back rider, a portlier man than the rest, had skidded from the path, falling from his mount and down into the valley. The remaining four gained on Shadowfax, and Greenleaf allowed them to for a moment. Then he urged the white stallion on, pulling ahead again. He was reaching the sort of speed that he enjoyed; a fast, dangerous speed. To a Man's eyes the landscape would be blurred, hurrying past at a great rate, but to an Elf's it was crystal clear.
Something whizzed past Greenleaf's ear and he ducked reflexively. Looking back, he saw that some of his pursuers had drawn crossbows and were firing them at him. Dodging another shot, he pointed Shadowfax off the path and up the steeper slopes. Time to turn up the heat, he thought grimly. The riders followed, though one fell almost instantly, cracking his head on a large rock. Another slipped shortly after, falling with his horse into a steep ravine. Greenleaf felt a moment's pity for the beast, but was concerned with more pressing matters.
The two remaining horsemen were tightly on his trail. Even he had to be impressed with their tenacity and skill, though they were still not deserving of his respect. They wanted to kill him, and had no particular finesse in their manner of execution. Wanting to be rid of them as soon as possible, Greenleaf bent forward to whisper in Shadowfax's ear, then swung his legs over to sit backwards on the horse's back. His bow was off his back and in his hands, an arrow on the string, in seconds, shooting off an instant later to fell the back horseman. The body jerked and twisted down the rocky incline, ending up face first in a bush.
There was now only one rider left. Greenleaf span back to face front again, returning his bow to his back and pulling out his knife. As the man drew up, helped by Shadowfax dropping back under Greenleaf's command, he grinned through his beard. The grin soon turned into a grimace as the Elf grabbed him and pressed the edge of his blade against the filthy throat.
"Who paid you?" Greenleaf demanded, tightening his hold.
"No one," the man choked, "we . . . bandits. We . . . not paid."
"Somebody told you to go after me," Greenleaf insisted, "who?"
"Oh . . ." the man gasped. "Arse . . ." He shoved his head forward and slit his own throat on Greenleaf's knife. The Elf scowled and dropped the body, after wiping his blade clean on the man's shirt. He had got precious little from that encounter, save for the fact that someone wanted him dead (not an uncommon occurrence), but maybe there was something of use. He wheeled Shadowfax about and aimed to rejoin the path he had been following previously.
The man's last remark could just have been an expression of his anger, but Greenleaf knew that for the most part men had far coarser words in their vocabulary to use in such an instance. It was most likely therefore that it had been a reference to ARSE, the Army (Republic) of Saruman the Excellent. If this was so, then Saruman would have been behind the attack. This was not something that Greenleaf wanted now, while he was headed straight for Saruman's stronghold. Perhaps he had just warned his soldiers to be on the lookout for a golden-haired Elf, but it was more probable that the wizard had put two and two together alarmingly quickly. He may have had information from inside Edoras. He was wily; he knew that a bandit attack in the mountains would never be traced to him, and it would prove a tragic -yet blame free on his part- end to the Prince of Mirkwood.
Unluckily for him, Greenleaf and his steed were made of stronger stuff. They travelled on in the sunlight, never deviating from the remainder of their path towards Orthanc. Greenleaf resettled his hair, thanking the Valar for the umpteenth time that it took far more than that to get an Elf sweaty. It was just as well that the blood of the so-called bandit hadn't sprayed over his clothes. That would have looked bad.
Soon the tall tower of Orthanc loomed up among the mountain slopes. It was polished black, reflecting the sunlight and making it feel cold. The end was two-pronged, like a gigantic tuning-fork, and it greatly resembled Saruman's staff, as Greenleaf remembered from his close encounter with it in Rivendell. He gazed at the proud length, its thrusting points and its firm base, and he smiled suddenly. He's compensating for something, he thought. His type always is.
The gates were below him, down the slope, so Greenleaf cantered the rest of the way. The magnificent horse and his own proud bearing would blind onlookers to much else, giving no hint of his true intentions. He would appear only as a Prince for now, as he was expected to do.
"I am expected," he said somewhat imperiously, waving his invitation to the guard on the gates.
"Straight on through, yer highness," the guard replied, opening the gates and tugging the front of his helmet respectfully. "Nobby'll take yer horse."
Greenleaf rode slowly through the tall gates and into Isengard.
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