Chapter Four: A Master of Subterfuge.
There were many people gathered for the Council of Elrond; some Legolas knew well, others were strangers, or people he knew only on sight. Of the latter groups most were dwarves, Legolas cursed silently: he hated dwarves, he considered them to be greedy and avaricious creatures, interested only in gold and gems; besides, anything that spent its life digging around in caves was bound to be unwholesome.
Lord Elrond sat at the head of the council, with Mithrandir, that meddling Wizard. And with them… with them were two of the strangest looking fellows Legolas had ever seen. They were small—shorter even than dwarves—and had oversized hairy feet. The hair on their heads matched that of it on their feet: thick and curly. One of them was clearly quite old, for his face was lined and his hair was iron grey. But the other was much younger: his locks were dark brown with no hint of grey, and his face was creased only with fear and apprehension, large eyes continuously roving around, taking in everything.
Legolas considered these creatures thoughtfully as he took his seat between a dark haired Elf of Imladris and—unfortunately—a particularly hirsute dwarf, who, incidentally, seemed as unhappy about the arrangement as Legolas was. Could these things be… Halflings—what had Crickhen called them?… Hobbits? The Elf almost laughed at the sheer absurdity of it: one of these little, child-like Hobbits carried the One Ring? It was quite ironic… and too easy.
But perhaps there was more to these Halflings than met the eye, Legolas mused as Elrond began speaking. The Lord of Rivendell introduced the Hobbits as Bilbo and Frodo Baggins respectively. Legolas almost raised an eyebrow at that: Bilbo Baggins… why did he recognise that name? Ah, of course. The story about the Hobbit and his dwarf friends was well known in Mirkwood; after all they had stopped for a little… visit on their way to the Lonely Mountain. Legolas had been away in the Wilderlands at the time and so hadn't seen them, but it must have been well nigh sixty years ago … Legolas knew little of these Halfling folk, but he suspected that they weren't very long lived. If that was the case, it didn't seem the old one had many years left.
But it was not Bilbo who really caught his interest. It was Frodo, son of Drogo. If, as Legolas suspected, this was the Hobbit who held the Ring then he was hardier than he looked, for to bring the ring such a great distance and still resist its evil was no easy task, nor was avoiding the watchful eyes of the Servants of Sauron, the Ringwraiths, who would surely be searching for the Ring. But then, this little Hobbit had had the protection of Aragorn, Legolas' eyes flicked to the tall Ranger, who sat alone in a corner. Aragorn was the best of the Rangers, and that meant he was the best of the best. Hardened by many years long travel, skilled in battle and healing-if anyone could have saved Frodo and all who travelled with him, then it would have been Aragorn. He may have been a man, but with the noble blood of the Númenóreans coursing through his veins, and the wise counsel of Elrond in his head- Legolas derailed that train of thought right there, it mattered little how the Hobbit had made it to Rivendell, or how competent Aragorn was, (although he was nothing compared to Legolas himself) what mattered was that the Ruling Ring was there in Rivendell and… right before his eyes.
Frodo the Hobbit had taken a chain from his pocket and laid the object upon it on the flat of his hand. As one, each member of the council leaned forward to look closer, save Elrond and Gandalf.
Legolas ran his tongue over his lips, those who saw took it for nervousness in the face of Isildur's Bane, but really it was in anticipation. Oh how he yearned for that Ring; that little band of Gold that held so much force... he could almost feel the power radiating from it, calling him… wanting him…
Legolas stopped himself from reaching out for the Ring, it took little effort for the Elf had long ago schooled himself to almost immeasurable patience. He could wait, wait a thousand years to make the Ring his if he had to… but he wouldn't have to wait that long, for it was right before his eyes, within his very reach! If he wanted, he could take it now, and oh what sweet pleasure it would bring… yet here he was in the presence of some powerful Elven Lords: Elrond and Glorfindel, Galdor and Lindir to name but a few, not forgetting of course Gandalf… if he went for the Ring and they overpowered him, his secret would be out. Besides this was a mission of subterfuge, not all out warfare; things needed to be done gently, to avoid suspicion.
And so throughout the rest of the Council Legolas resisted the urge to take the Ring, instead he listened with genuine interest to the accounts of Gandalf—Saruman, now that was an interesting development—Elrond, the dwarves, and the Man of Gondor: Boromir. The lascivious gleam in the Man's eyes, and his talk of using the Ring were not lost on Legolas, who mentally stored it all away for later use. Perhaps this Boromir could be of use to him.
His own news, of the escape of Gollum was greeted with dismay from all sides, especially from Aragorn, whose comments about Legolas' people would have earned him a knife through the throat if he had been anyone else, and had it been a different situation. {A/n: Hey, just cos the guy's an egocentric megalomaniac doesn't mean he's not patriotic!)
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Legolas walked slowly down the corridor leading to his quarters, gazing ruminatively at the ceiling, one hand caressing the hilt of his dagger. It was a strange little mannerism: Aragorn had once remarked that you could always tell whenever Legolas was deep in thought for he would always have his hand on his knife. Legolas was not sure himself why he did this, in a way it was… comforting.
Lost in deep thought, he let his feet take him wherever they desired, and his thoughtful wanderings led him in a round-a-bout way deep into of the House of Elrond; and the large elaborate planetarium which occupied the centre of the main building. It was an impressive place: the large domed vault of the ceiling illuminated with the many familiar and well loved star constellations of which the Elves are wont to call friends, the mighty marble columns looming around the room's perimeter, and the polished limestone floor inlaid with slabs of painted glass made for awe-inspiring viewing. The silence was buzzing as Legolas entered the darkened planetarium, footsteps echoing slightly on the smooth stone as he crossed to the centre of the room, where the doom was at its apex. He turned a full circle, gazing at the ceiling; at the heavens it represented. In time, all of it would be his: the very stars would be his to command; the peoples of Arda, and of any other world would be under his thraldom… he would reign on high! A sovereign… An emperor…. A God!
The thought was so pleasant, so enchanting that he permitted himself a merry chuckle, which soon turned into a silvery peal of delighted laughter, as he walked full circle around the mighty perimeter one hand stretched out; running over the smooth columns, eyes gazing still towards the sky. Mine! All mine! Soon!
"Our planetarium holds your favour, so I see." said a soft voice from the arched doorway. Legolas turned, not bothering to remove the wide smile which still played around his lips.
"Aye, my Lady." Turning his gaze once more to the stars he said "There is no sight more wonderful than the shining stars at night; and no place more suited to honour their majesty than this. Tis truly a fine building: wondrous yet simple, better even than our own in deep Mirkwood, and from me you will find no greater compliment"
The Lady Arwen entered the room, quietly closing the brass hinged oak doors behind her. There was no light, save the simulated stars, but Elves need little light to see by, and Legolas could clearly see the Elven princess, clothed in a mantle of Smokey grey- the colour accentuating her bright eyes- who stopped a little way from him, head tilted slightly, dark hair loosely flowing down her back. "You can find peace… solace… harmony within yourself through the stars" with each word she stepped closer to him; until she was so close that he could feel her warm breath on his face; see his face reflected in her eyes. "A wearied soul can find rest, a sinful heart forgiveness…. A troubled mind tranquillity…. Are you troubled Legolas?" Arwen reached up her hand and ran it through his long ash blond hair, twirling a strand around her fingers. "You can tell me if you are troubled… I can help you"
Legolas felt the distinct urge to move away, but he quashed it, and allowed the Lady to caress his hair unhindered; it felt nice. "I assure you my Lady, I am in perfect equanimity" he said neutrally, not wanting to let Arwen know how off balance he felt. "In fact I feel as free as a bird in—" he was cut off when Arwen pressed two fingers to his lips forcefully.
"Do not lie to me Legolas," she murmured, running her tongue across her cerise lips. "Your mouth says one thing, and yet your eyes say something else. Your eyes say that you are strained, weary under the weight of a heavy burden…. It is hard on you now, you are feeling the pressure of so many things on your shoulders. It is painful for you, I know, but I can help…I can help take some of that stress away…. Let me help you Legolas… let me shoulder some of that pain." She had him backed up against the wall now, his back forced against the marble pillar. What does she know? He thought frantically she must know something, or why else would she back acting so strangely... what can she know?!
"Lady, I am—" this time he was silenced by a fiery kiss to the lips. He stiffened in shock as she pushed her tongue forcefully into his mouth, one hand on the back of his head, pulling him into the kiss. It was startling, certainly, for the Lady Arwen had never before shown any signs of sexual interest in him, and he did not believe her to be as forward as this especially since Aragorn…. However, it was but not entirely unwelcome: she was not an uncomely wench by any man's standards, and she was the daughter of Elrond, his enmity… what made it even sweeter was that she was Aragorn's; and Legolas lusted for anything that wasn't his own. He would have taken Arwen anyway when the time came, but if she wanted him now (and who could blame her?) then Legolas wasn't going to complain… although he did think it more than a little strange. At this thought he tried to pull back—this was too strange—but all that brought was a stronger, more possessive kiss. And with the pressure of her lips against his he could feel his resolve weakening, all thoughts going hazy except for the thought of Arwen with him—it was seemingly becoming a far more appealing thought than it ever had before, and so he kissed her back; hungrily, passionately, wanting more… and so he was immensely disappointed when she pulled back from him, an alluring smile playing around her full lips.
"You taste sweet, son of Thranduil." She said with a wicked glint in her eye. "I wish to taste you more" at his move forward, she shook her head and placed a hand against his chest "…. But not here, come to my quarters tonight, when the moon is at her apogee… I will be waiting." And with that she strolled towards the door, hips swaying seductively. Legolas almost followed her. But no, tonight…. He could wait till then. He watched with wide eyes as she paused in the open doorway, and turned towards him, the light from the corridor seemed to illuminate her, like a seraphim of gold. "My father is in the outer courtyard with Gandalf if you wish to speak to him… I would go swiftly were I you." And then she was gone.
******
The words of Arwen rang true, and Legolas did indeed fine Lord Elrond deep in conversation with Mithrandir among the cobbles of the outer courtyard. Legolas wondered why Arwen thought he wished to speak with her father, surely not to tell him about their little liaison? Or maybe she did.. who knew with women… well, that certainly was not going to happen. More important things needed to be discussed.
And so the devious Elf plastered an amicable smile on his face and trotted out to join the Lord and the Wizard.
"Good morrow Lord Elrond, Mithrandir," said he with a regal nod to each. He clasped his hands behind his back and placed his feet apart, affecting a stance of nonchalance. "You will forgive the interruption, but I much desire to speak with you both; about this morning's council, which is what you are discussing now if I do not miss my guess."
"Well Met Legolas!" Replied Gandalf, who was leaning on his staff, and gave the Elf a cheery nod. "As perspicacious as always I see. You are correct, of course… I think the council is on many people's minds now, for it brought to light many issues… most, if not all, disagreeable."
"Indeed that seems to be the way of most things in this age." Said Elrond with a heavy sigh. "As the years go by the powers of the Elves seem to be waning. Our time in Middle-earth is coming to its end. We have seen many years, many defeats and many fruitless victories. We have done all we can to hold the evil at bay… and yet still the Shadow grows stronger Now as this age draws to an end, I fear that this may be our last stand… we must triumph now or be forever overcome by the Shadow."
"Tis a sobering thought, my Lord" said Legolas nodding sagely. "And that brings we directly to what I want to ask you… I wish to be a part of this Fellowship that is to accompany the Ring."
"Is that so?" said Elrond neutrally. He folded his arms across the chest. "And why is that, pray?"
Legolas narrowed his eyes slightly, and pursed his lips in thought. There was something about the way the other Elf Lord had looked at him…do you suspect me, Elrond? You are more astute than most, and you are not blinded by any love for me… I wonder though, would you have allowed my presence at the council if you believed me to be false? I doubt it…hmmm. A delicate balance. "My Lord" he said finally, sincerely "Though these may truly be the fading days of our people, I still believe that the Elves have power still to govern and guide the hearts of others. The journey will be hard, and the task may seem insurmountable at times... some may falter. I would not. And maybe, I could use my pride, my courage and steadfastness to help the others. Besides, the Elves have fought the shadow since the first dawn, tis only fitting that we should be there at the last."
"Be that as it may, Legolas." Answered Elrond "I could send any Elves from my own household to do just what you have described. Why do you, personally, believe yourself to be the best choice?"
So it was going to take some persuasion was it? No matter. Legolas excelled at putting himself over, while retaining a modest attitude. It was an attribute he was quite proud of. He smiled. " I am a warrior, Lord Elrond. I have dedicated my life to the obliteration of the fell creatures of the East and the Dark Forces. It is my life's purpose, my vocation if you will. And if it truly is as you say; that this is our last great stand. Then, more than ever do I want to be a part of it. I am sure you know of my repetition as the best archer of my realm—and while that may be a bit over exaggerated, I am skilled with the bow, and with many other forms of combat: armed and unarmed. Many years of warrior training, and actual battle, where one wrong move could mean instant death has made me quick and adaptable to any situation I may find myself in. I am well travelled, with experience of survival in the direst situations, and I know the terrain over the path that the Ring will have to take. I do not wish to sound arrogant, but I do believe I have the qualifications to be a part of this mission. But more than that, my Lord, more than that I wish to go. I am willing to endure whatever hardships whatever horrors it may bring… and is it not better to send one person who is willing to face perhaps certain death than ten of your finest warriors who are not? Do not deny me this chance, please. It is my destiny…"
Elrond tapped his lips thoughtfully. "I do not deny that you are well versed in the ways of the wild, and are indeed a competent and admired warrior, Legolas. And the fact that you are so willing to go sets a lot in your favour. The decision is not entirely mine, however. I shall have to speak with another before I can confirm that you will be going… but no doubt he will be eager to have you along. In the mean time, I have another task for you… if you will comply, I wish for you to go out with a scouting party, back to Mirkwood to inform them of all that has transpired.. if you are willing?"
Legolas was rather surprised by this, and annoyed Drat! That will take me out of Rivendell for at least two months, in which time I cannot get my hands on the Ring1 I cannot say no though… it would be too suspicious.. But he didn't let it show. Instead all he said. "If you wish it. Then so shall it be"
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"Legolas of Mirkwood has expressed his wishes to join the Fellowship when they journey South." Said Elrond to Aragorn, who was leaning against the wall, head bowed as if deep in thought. "The Prince is a fine archer- perhaps the finest of his realm- and of a stout heart. I believe he would make a valuable ally."
Aragorn nodded. "I will vouch for Legolas, Elrond," he said. "We have travelled together oft afore now, and fought many a battle side by side. He is a brave and noble Elf, and one of the few I would consider a true friend. I can think of nobody I would trust more to accompany me on this perilous quest."
"Very well," said Elrond, bowing his head in acquiescence. "So, Legolas of Mirkwood will represent the Elves. Now of the Dwarves, I have chosen Gimli, son of Glòin…"
******
From his hidden perch on the window ledge, Legolas smiled evilly. "Oh, Aragorn you soft fool" he chuckled. "How you will come to rue those words…" The Elf leapt lightly down and hummed a little as he strolled casually along. This all called for a celebration… and there was only one way Legolas liked to celebrate…
******
Ducking out into the night, the Elven Prince ran lightly along the bottom of the wall and out onto the lawn, his soft soled shoes making no noise on the smooth grass. He was dressed entirely in his favourite black: dark leggings and tunic, with his hooded midnight cape, hood pulled up. Legolas had twined his long blond hair into a single braid pushed it inside his hood, he didn't want anyone seeing it's pale colour that night, just in case.
He jumped atop a wall, ran nimbly across it and down the other side. Later he would make his way to Arwen's quarters for a little fun, but right now he needed a kill. Legolas hadn't been able to kill anyone or anything for days—that damn Erestor following him around all the time—and his knife was growing restless in its scabbard.
The wind whipped the branches in the trees, moaning a lament for the future. Come sing with me, come sing my songs of death… Legolas leapt across a bubbling brook and slipped quietly through some bushes towards a lighted window. He had come to a low roofed stone building: the servants quarters. Crouching down, he lifted up a black veil which covered his whole face but his eyes. He didn't normally wear it, but here there was the risk of detection, and he certainly couldn't have that.
A light in one of the windows enticed him, he slithered towards it, and raised his head just slightly to glance into it. It was a simple room, but comfortable. Small with a little bed, wooden stool and dressing table as well as a stone basin and water jug: just the room of a lowly scullery maid. Perfect.
There was no one in the room, so Legolas made his entrance via the window, dropping noiselessly to the floor, and crossing to the door. Taking position behind it, be would wait until the girl came to bed… and then the fun would begin.
As it turned out he didn't have long to wait. He stiffened as he heard soft footfalls in the corridor and a female voice singing a quiet tune. The door opened, blocking Legolas from view, and a young, skinny girl no more than eighteen entered the room, humming to herself. Unaware of the danger, she shut and bolted the door, and, without looking behind her crossed to her little bed, undoing the strings of her apron as she went.
Legolas grinned. Oh the simplicity of it all. He rose from his crouch and in two steps was directly behind her. She stiffened, as if sensing him and turned around. He saw a shudder pass through her body as she slowly brought her eyes up to meet his cold, emotionless ones.
"W-who are you…?" she whispered, backing away, only to be blocked by the bed. Her hand went out to steady herself and he caught it firmly.
"I have many names" answered Legolas, in a low purring voice, nothing like his own. "But you may know me as… Daesuuru" At her terrified gasp, he felt like laughing, but quickly clasped his other hand over her mouth when he heard her exhale to scream. "Tut, tut, we don't want any of that now do we? Now you be a good girl and do as you're told and I wont hurt you, understood?" she just gazed at him out of frightened cerulean eyes, but he took it for assent. "That's a good girl!" he said with mock pleasantness. "She how easy it is when you do as I say? Right… I am going to take my hand from your mouth now, but remember this: one sound and you'll be dead, and I'll be gone, understood?" he didn't even wait for acknowledgement this time. His hand left her mouth, found his dagger and was at her throat before she even had time to react.
Now this was going to be the difficult part… he wanted the pleasure of her screams, but here, in this confined space, it would draw unwanted attention. Shifting his grip on her arm, Legolas pulled her towards the window. "Out" he hissed "and do not even think about running" he shoved her rudely onto the sill and she fell out the other side with a muffled thump. He heard her scramble up and try to run, but he had anticipated this: with a lithe leap through the window he landed behind her, shot out his hand and grabbing a handful of her dirty blonde locks yanked her back Legolas calmly gave the girl a fierce backhand. His blow sent her head snapping to the side, and blood trickled from a cracked lip, he saw tears in her eyes and her breathing was short and raspy, but she didn't cry out, he had to give her credit for that. "I said do not run, girl, tsk, tsk. Not so good at taking orders are we? Ah well, now you see, you're going to have to be punished. It's such a shame, I really didn't want to have to kill such a pretty thing as you." He shook his head remorsefully as the girl whimpered in fear. Grasping her too tiny wrists in one of his strong hands, he dragged her off into the undergrowth.
"Ah the Black Wind sings again…" he murmured as wind shook the bare branches of the trees, and swirled the crimson leaves in little dervishes about their feet. Legolas pushed the girl onto the ground, and she lay their unresisting as he knelt down and straddled her hips. Ah the ease of it all. Tis fun, yes. But I do sometimes wish for something a little more challenging… "Now "he said pleasantly. "We're going to play a little game, ok? The rules are really simple: I ask you some questions, and you answer. You answer correctly, and you live, you don't and you die. Understand?" he took his dagger and ran it gently down her cheek and neck.
What she did next caught him completely off guard. Her hand, which was completely free from restraint, flew up and caught him squarely in the nose, and the other grabbed his wrist, twisting it, trying to make him release the dagger. He was so shocked that he actually let go, and the girl bucked her hips, unseating him and springing to her feet with unanticipated a agility. She snatched up the dagger and held it out in front of her, backing away at the same time. "Don't more you bastard, or I swear I'll scream so loud the whole of Rivendell will be out here to investigate!" Legolas was on his feet and right in front of her before she could say any more.
"You were saying?"
He girl opened her mouth and screamed, loud and terrifying. Curses! Thought Legolas, he went for her arm, but she was quicker, pulling a side and striking out with the dagger. It was a random slash, but it found its mark: right in Legolas' shoulder. He hissed in surprise and pain, and stumbled back, collapsing to the ground, where he lay motionless.
The girl stood still for a few seconds, obviously in deep shock. Had she killed him? Blood dripped off the tip of the blade, and morbid curiosity overcame her. She crept forward and knelt down beside the body. It didn't move, and she couldn't see movement in the chest, so she cautiously raised her hand and prodded him.
Thwack!
Legolas shot out his arm and grabbed her wrist. He yanked it backwards, till she toppled forwards onto him, and he rolled over, their positions reversed. His groping hand found his dagger, and he raised it over her heart. "Next time, girl" he hissed. "stab more flesh and less cloth."
He plunged the dagger deep into her heart just as he heard the first running footsteps. he jumped to his feet wiping his dagger and sheathing it. He looked around at the mussed undergrowth and the dead girl, blood pooling around her and cursed himself for such a messy job.
But those footsteps were drawing ever nearer, and he couldn't afford to face them now.
He had no choice.
He ran
******
Exceedingly sorry it took so long, damn computer has been completely f-d up, plus whenever it is alright you can guarantee my damn brother will be on it. Can you say obsessed??
Anyway, the next chapter wont take so long I promise and there is a lot more fun it that one. Just what is Arwen up to? Hmmmm?
Oh yes, and if I have made any dreadful typos I am very sorry, but tis late and I have had to type this up at express speed. So apologies all round it seems!