"Legol, slow down."
Legolas glanced over at Haldir's fingers, tight and white upon the dashboard of the 'vette. "Nervous?"
"You're driving too fast."
"You always say that."
"You always drive too fast."
"You always say that, too."
"You drive this thing much as you used to ride a horse."
"Except this is like riding about four hundred horses." Legolas grinned. "Without all the horse poop. You know, I really don't miss horse poop."
Haldir was not amused. "Why do people need to move around so fast?"
"Why go slow when you can go fast?"
"Speed kills."
Legolas burst out laughing. "Wimp."
"Maniac." Haldir's eyes widened. "Look out for that..."
Legolas swerved efficiently. "Already saw it. Hal, you could just trust me, you know. I'm an excellent driver."
"I know." Through gritted teeth.
"So why are you so nervous?"
"Because people were not meant to move this fast. If we were, then horses could attain this speed on their own."
"Shadowfax could probably have."
"Shadowfax was a flea-riddled nag."
Legolas grinned, shook his head, and cranked up the cd player, their conversation lost in heavy guitar chords.
***
"Nice place."
They looked up at the facade of the large house before them. Owned by one Mark White, a young dot com millionaire, just outside of Los Angeles. Through no small amount of money changing hands, they were able to locate the man who had bought this Ring of Angmar.
Legolas sighed, wishing that the whole thing was over and done with. He was sure that it would not go smoothly. He brushed his hand against his jacket, feeling the reassuring weight of his pistol. Beside him, Haldir did the same. Their eyes met.
"No violence, if possible."
"Agreed." It wasn't this young man's fault that he had bought such a dangerous ring, but there was no telling what the ring had done to him since it had come into his possession. They remembered Gollum only too well.
Haldir rang the doorbell, for want of any better way to get inside. A uniformed young woman opened the door. "Yes?"
"Mr. White, please."
"Have you an appointment?"
Haldir glanced at Legolas, then pulled his fake F.B.I. identification out of his jacket. Legolas did the same.
"We do now, ma'am. Mr. White, please."
Frightened now, the young woman turned and walked into the house, calling for her employer. Legolas noted the amusement on Haldir's face. He's enjoying this. Too bad he wasn't part of the original Fellowship of the Ring.
A young man, wearing stylish khaki pants and a black golf shirt, strode into the waiting room. Beside him, Legolas heard Haldir's indrawn breath, and he turned to face Mark White.
The shock hit him, like a physical thing, for he thought, for just a moment, that he was looking at the long-dead Boromir. The real Boromir, with his dark hair and eyes, not the Boromir as portrayed in the movie.
Uncanny...
He recovered quickly, however. "Mr. White?"
"Yes." Cautiously.
"Agent Smith and Agent Richards, F.B.I. We believe you are in possession of stolen property. We must confiscate it, sir."
"What...what are you talking about?" The young man looked back at Legolas, steadily, although he began to twist his hands together.
Not twisting them together, Legolas realized. He's twisting a ring on his finger... Legolas looked down at the man's hands, at the ugly, misshapen silver ring.
"I think you know what I'm talking about, sir. That ring. It was found on an archaeological site."
"It was? I...I didn't know..." White smiled placatingly, but his grip on the ring tightened.
"Sorry, sir, but we'll have to confiscate it."
"No! I mean...why? Surely...surely, we can come to an...understanding..."
"Excuse me?" Sharply. Haldir.
"You know. An...understanding..." The phony smile widened. "Name your price."
Legolas was at a loss. He had no idea how to handle this. Clearly, this man was under whatever influence that the ring could wield. Just like Boromir, he thought sadly. He always felt a pang of regret when he thought of the proud, heroic man of Gondor, so badly used by the One Ring. Boromir had deserved a better fate. Pity stirred in Legolas for this man who so strongly resembled his long ago friend.
"No price," he said, kindly. "Please hand the ring over. It...it will be better for you, this way."
White's eyes began to shine, with a queer desperation that Legolas remembered only too well.
"I don't think so, actually. I bought it. It's mine..."
Haldir took the situation in hand.
"Sir. Hand over the ring, or we will be forced to arrest you." He brought his gun out, held it right between Mark White's eyes. "I don't either of us wants that."
"You can't..." He gasped as Haldir pinned him back against the wall.
Legolas grabbed the man's hand, and pulled the ring off. It seemed a very tight fit, and he was as gentle as he could be. The ring didn't seem to want to be pulled off.
Haldir and Legolas backed towards the door, Haldir still holding his gun on the man. "Sorry for any inconvenience, sir."
Legolas was alarmed by the look on the man's face; it looked as though he had just lost his best friend. "Sorry? You're sorry? What the hell good does that do me? Get back here! Give me back my ring! Hey!"
They turned and sprinted to the Corvette. Legolas could still hear the man yelling, from inside the house. "Thank the stars that's over," he said, as he burned rubber pulling out of the drive. "What a nightmare."
"In more ways than one," said Haldir, grimly. "This is a bad enough business, without coming face to face with a dead man."
Legolas was silent, lost in his own turbulent thoughts on the way home. He did not want to think about Boromir, about Mark White, about anything. He just wanted to get rid of that damned ring and go back to his peaceful life.
***
The late evening found the two Elves standing at the railing of the elegant cruise ship that they had boarded later that afternoon.
Attach something heavy to the ring, Gandalf had advised them. Throw it into the deepest depths of the ocean; that should take care of the matter. With any luck, it should not be found again.
Legolas wasn't too sure about all those "should's", but there really wasn't any reasonable alternative that they could come up with on such short notice.
"Peaceful," he murmured, watching the moonlight dance upon the waves.
"Very peaceful," agreed Haldir. He seemed lost in thought.
"This whole thing seems too easy, somehow."
"I know what you mean." Haldir paused, then sighed. "I'm tired."
"It has been a long day, hasn't it."
"Not that, Legol. I mean, yes, it has, but that's not what I meant. I meant that I'm tired of...of all of it."
Legolas felt a chill. He wasn't ready for this conversation.
"Don't you think it's time, perhaps...time to set sail? For Valinor?"
"I...I don't know."
Haldir made an exasperated noise.
"I do not know, Haldir. Sometimes, I feel that yes, it is time. Sometimes I am so weary. But then, something catches my interest, and I'm rejuvenated. Do you understand?"
Another deep sigh. "Yes, I understand. I do. But," Haldir turned to face him. "But those moments are becoming farther and farther apart, Legolas. My soul is weary. My head is weary. My heart is weary."
They were silent for a moment. Then:
"But I would not leave you alone here."
Legolas felt a wash of guilty relief.
"Just...please, do not tarry on my behalf. I am ready to set sail, whenever you are."
Legolas turned, his dark eyes intent. "Soon, Haldir. It will be soon."
Haldir faced his oldest, dearest friend, and smiled. "Thank you."
"No. Thank you, Haldir. Thank you. For everything." They gripped hands for a moment. There was nothing more that could be said. Then, Legolas looked at his watch. "I think we are nearing the...er...dropoff point."
It was late, and no one was about at this hour. They had the deck to themselves. After a quick look around, Haldir pulled the small, heavy metal box from his jacket pocket.
"Shall we?"
"Would you care to do the honours?"
He laughed gently. "Sure." Discreetly, Haldir held the box between the bars of the railing. "Take that, Angmar, you son of a..."
"NO!"
Haldir turned his head, just in time to see Legolas collapse, a long, wicked-looking blade buried between the shoulder blades. Before he could react, their assailant -- Boromir? No! It's that boy! Mark White! -- lashed out at Haldir, with a smaller, but equally wicked, knife. He felt -- something -- he felt his strength give way, and the hand holding the box relaxed its grip. There was a small splash as the box containing Angmar's ring slipped beneath the waves.
"You bastard," the boy snarled. "You lost my ring!" Madly, White jumped over the railing, cursing all the way.
Haldir tried to do something, but he couldn't. He lost his grip on the railing, and slipped to the deck. So slippery, why so slippery, where is all that blood coming from? As his vision faded, the last thing he saw was the lifeless dark eyes of Legolas, staring vacantly at nothing...
***
Why is it so bright in here?
"Och, are you going to sleep the day away, now! Wake up, Elf!"
Haldir rolled over, wondering why his mouth felt so dry, and why there was a dwarf yelling at him.
"Why, Gimli, did someone give you a box to stand on, so you could see over the bed's railing?"
That sounded like Legolas, but he's dead, and it sounded like Gimli, but Gimli's dead, and...come to think of it, aren't I dead...?
Rumbly dwarf laughter resounded throughout the room, along with silvery bell-chime laughter that Haldir remembered all too well, though he had not heard it in many hundreds of years.
"My...my lady...?" A cool hand on his brow, and the press of a cup against his parched lips.
"Welcome home, Haldir."
"Lady...Galadriel..."
Haldir managed to sit up, albeit with some help from Lord Celeborn and Lord Elrond. He looked around the brightly-lit room. Legolas sat propped up on many pillows in the next bed. With him sat Gimli, and Frodo Baggins, an older man who must be Legolas' father, Thranduil, and a pretty, dark-haired Elven maiden whom Haldir recognized from Legolas' sketchbooks: Dariannah. She and Legolas were holding hands. Haldir smiled.
"I think I can guess where we are." He looked up as his mother and father entered the room, their faces shining with joy. "And you, Gandalf," he added, as the old wizard entered the room. "What news? Were we successful?"
"Indeed you were, young Haldir. The Cursed Ring of Angmar now lies deep at the bottom of the sea. That should keep it out of trouble, for some time, at least."
"I should hope so. Unfortunate that it was able to drive that young man to madness, though. That's very sad."
"Madness and violence. So it would have done, to all that it came into contact with." Gandalf's eyes were grave. "A very unwholesome thing." He rose. "But for now, it is dealt with. You have done a good thing, Haldir, Legolas. Very good."
He turned to leave the room, but at the doorway, he paused, and turned back with a smile on his worn face. "Oh, and by the way...welcome to Valinor. Welcome home."
***
The End!
Legolas glanced over at Haldir's fingers, tight and white upon the dashboard of the 'vette. "Nervous?"
"You're driving too fast."
"You always say that."
"You always drive too fast."
"You always say that, too."
"You drive this thing much as you used to ride a horse."
"Except this is like riding about four hundred horses." Legolas grinned. "Without all the horse poop. You know, I really don't miss horse poop."
Haldir was not amused. "Why do people need to move around so fast?"
"Why go slow when you can go fast?"
"Speed kills."
Legolas burst out laughing. "Wimp."
"Maniac." Haldir's eyes widened. "Look out for that..."
Legolas swerved efficiently. "Already saw it. Hal, you could just trust me, you know. I'm an excellent driver."
"I know." Through gritted teeth.
"So why are you so nervous?"
"Because people were not meant to move this fast. If we were, then horses could attain this speed on their own."
"Shadowfax could probably have."
"Shadowfax was a flea-riddled nag."
Legolas grinned, shook his head, and cranked up the cd player, their conversation lost in heavy guitar chords.
***
"Nice place."
They looked up at the facade of the large house before them. Owned by one Mark White, a young dot com millionaire, just outside of Los Angeles. Through no small amount of money changing hands, they were able to locate the man who had bought this Ring of Angmar.
Legolas sighed, wishing that the whole thing was over and done with. He was sure that it would not go smoothly. He brushed his hand against his jacket, feeling the reassuring weight of his pistol. Beside him, Haldir did the same. Their eyes met.
"No violence, if possible."
"Agreed." It wasn't this young man's fault that he had bought such a dangerous ring, but there was no telling what the ring had done to him since it had come into his possession. They remembered Gollum only too well.
Haldir rang the doorbell, for want of any better way to get inside. A uniformed young woman opened the door. "Yes?"
"Mr. White, please."
"Have you an appointment?"
Haldir glanced at Legolas, then pulled his fake F.B.I. identification out of his jacket. Legolas did the same.
"We do now, ma'am. Mr. White, please."
Frightened now, the young woman turned and walked into the house, calling for her employer. Legolas noted the amusement on Haldir's face. He's enjoying this. Too bad he wasn't part of the original Fellowship of the Ring.
A young man, wearing stylish khaki pants and a black golf shirt, strode into the waiting room. Beside him, Legolas heard Haldir's indrawn breath, and he turned to face Mark White.
The shock hit him, like a physical thing, for he thought, for just a moment, that he was looking at the long-dead Boromir. The real Boromir, with his dark hair and eyes, not the Boromir as portrayed in the movie.
Uncanny...
He recovered quickly, however. "Mr. White?"
"Yes." Cautiously.
"Agent Smith and Agent Richards, F.B.I. We believe you are in possession of stolen property. We must confiscate it, sir."
"What...what are you talking about?" The young man looked back at Legolas, steadily, although he began to twist his hands together.
Not twisting them together, Legolas realized. He's twisting a ring on his finger... Legolas looked down at the man's hands, at the ugly, misshapen silver ring.
"I think you know what I'm talking about, sir. That ring. It was found on an archaeological site."
"It was? I...I didn't know..." White smiled placatingly, but his grip on the ring tightened.
"Sorry, sir, but we'll have to confiscate it."
"No! I mean...why? Surely...surely, we can come to an...understanding..."
"Excuse me?" Sharply. Haldir.
"You know. An...understanding..." The phony smile widened. "Name your price."
Legolas was at a loss. He had no idea how to handle this. Clearly, this man was under whatever influence that the ring could wield. Just like Boromir, he thought sadly. He always felt a pang of regret when he thought of the proud, heroic man of Gondor, so badly used by the One Ring. Boromir had deserved a better fate. Pity stirred in Legolas for this man who so strongly resembled his long ago friend.
"No price," he said, kindly. "Please hand the ring over. It...it will be better for you, this way."
White's eyes began to shine, with a queer desperation that Legolas remembered only too well.
"I don't think so, actually. I bought it. It's mine..."
Haldir took the situation in hand.
"Sir. Hand over the ring, or we will be forced to arrest you." He brought his gun out, held it right between Mark White's eyes. "I don't either of us wants that."
"You can't..." He gasped as Haldir pinned him back against the wall.
Legolas grabbed the man's hand, and pulled the ring off. It seemed a very tight fit, and he was as gentle as he could be. The ring didn't seem to want to be pulled off.
Haldir and Legolas backed towards the door, Haldir still holding his gun on the man. "Sorry for any inconvenience, sir."
Legolas was alarmed by the look on the man's face; it looked as though he had just lost his best friend. "Sorry? You're sorry? What the hell good does that do me? Get back here! Give me back my ring! Hey!"
They turned and sprinted to the Corvette. Legolas could still hear the man yelling, from inside the house. "Thank the stars that's over," he said, as he burned rubber pulling out of the drive. "What a nightmare."
"In more ways than one," said Haldir, grimly. "This is a bad enough business, without coming face to face with a dead man."
Legolas was silent, lost in his own turbulent thoughts on the way home. He did not want to think about Boromir, about Mark White, about anything. He just wanted to get rid of that damned ring and go back to his peaceful life.
***
The late evening found the two Elves standing at the railing of the elegant cruise ship that they had boarded later that afternoon.
Attach something heavy to the ring, Gandalf had advised them. Throw it into the deepest depths of the ocean; that should take care of the matter. With any luck, it should not be found again.
Legolas wasn't too sure about all those "should's", but there really wasn't any reasonable alternative that they could come up with on such short notice.
"Peaceful," he murmured, watching the moonlight dance upon the waves.
"Very peaceful," agreed Haldir. He seemed lost in thought.
"This whole thing seems too easy, somehow."
"I know what you mean." Haldir paused, then sighed. "I'm tired."
"It has been a long day, hasn't it."
"Not that, Legol. I mean, yes, it has, but that's not what I meant. I meant that I'm tired of...of all of it."
Legolas felt a chill. He wasn't ready for this conversation.
"Don't you think it's time, perhaps...time to set sail? For Valinor?"
"I...I don't know."
Haldir made an exasperated noise.
"I do not know, Haldir. Sometimes, I feel that yes, it is time. Sometimes I am so weary. But then, something catches my interest, and I'm rejuvenated. Do you understand?"
Another deep sigh. "Yes, I understand. I do. But," Haldir turned to face him. "But those moments are becoming farther and farther apart, Legolas. My soul is weary. My head is weary. My heart is weary."
They were silent for a moment. Then:
"But I would not leave you alone here."
Legolas felt a wash of guilty relief.
"Just...please, do not tarry on my behalf. I am ready to set sail, whenever you are."
Legolas turned, his dark eyes intent. "Soon, Haldir. It will be soon."
Haldir faced his oldest, dearest friend, and smiled. "Thank you."
"No. Thank you, Haldir. Thank you. For everything." They gripped hands for a moment. There was nothing more that could be said. Then, Legolas looked at his watch. "I think we are nearing the...er...dropoff point."
It was late, and no one was about at this hour. They had the deck to themselves. After a quick look around, Haldir pulled the small, heavy metal box from his jacket pocket.
"Shall we?"
"Would you care to do the honours?"
He laughed gently. "Sure." Discreetly, Haldir held the box between the bars of the railing. "Take that, Angmar, you son of a..."
"NO!"
Haldir turned his head, just in time to see Legolas collapse, a long, wicked-looking blade buried between the shoulder blades. Before he could react, their assailant -- Boromir? No! It's that boy! Mark White! -- lashed out at Haldir, with a smaller, but equally wicked, knife. He felt -- something -- he felt his strength give way, and the hand holding the box relaxed its grip. There was a small splash as the box containing Angmar's ring slipped beneath the waves.
"You bastard," the boy snarled. "You lost my ring!" Madly, White jumped over the railing, cursing all the way.
Haldir tried to do something, but he couldn't. He lost his grip on the railing, and slipped to the deck. So slippery, why so slippery, where is all that blood coming from? As his vision faded, the last thing he saw was the lifeless dark eyes of Legolas, staring vacantly at nothing...
***
Why is it so bright in here?
"Och, are you going to sleep the day away, now! Wake up, Elf!"
Haldir rolled over, wondering why his mouth felt so dry, and why there was a dwarf yelling at him.
"Why, Gimli, did someone give you a box to stand on, so you could see over the bed's railing?"
That sounded like Legolas, but he's dead, and it sounded like Gimli, but Gimli's dead, and...come to think of it, aren't I dead...?
Rumbly dwarf laughter resounded throughout the room, along with silvery bell-chime laughter that Haldir remembered all too well, though he had not heard it in many hundreds of years.
"My...my lady...?" A cool hand on his brow, and the press of a cup against his parched lips.
"Welcome home, Haldir."
"Lady...Galadriel..."
Haldir managed to sit up, albeit with some help from Lord Celeborn and Lord Elrond. He looked around the brightly-lit room. Legolas sat propped up on many pillows in the next bed. With him sat Gimli, and Frodo Baggins, an older man who must be Legolas' father, Thranduil, and a pretty, dark-haired Elven maiden whom Haldir recognized from Legolas' sketchbooks: Dariannah. She and Legolas were holding hands. Haldir smiled.
"I think I can guess where we are." He looked up as his mother and father entered the room, their faces shining with joy. "And you, Gandalf," he added, as the old wizard entered the room. "What news? Were we successful?"
"Indeed you were, young Haldir. The Cursed Ring of Angmar now lies deep at the bottom of the sea. That should keep it out of trouble, for some time, at least."
"I should hope so. Unfortunate that it was able to drive that young man to madness, though. That's very sad."
"Madness and violence. So it would have done, to all that it came into contact with." Gandalf's eyes were grave. "A very unwholesome thing." He rose. "But for now, it is dealt with. You have done a good thing, Haldir, Legolas. Very good."
He turned to leave the room, but at the doorway, he paused, and turned back with a smile on his worn face. "Oh, and by the way...welcome to Valinor. Welcome home."
***
The End!