Legolas Greenleaf, Agent of MESS, in
The Span of Solace
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, therefore it never actually happened. Legolas and associated characters were created by JRR Tolkien. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig.
Author's Notes: I made up the big white bridge. As far as I know there isn't one in Rivendell. But I figured that if whatsisname can make one up in Harry Potter 3 then I can in this.
Review reply: (only one. Where are you all?) Idlewild: more of the gambling halls in chapter three, that I promise. Who don't you believe is dead? Surely our favourite wizard couldn't have survived... And I'd have updated sooner, or maybe not, if I hadn't been in Blackpool all weekend. Ah, the joys of tackiness.
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Chapter 2. Strange Bedfellows
Greenleaf had spent the day with Gimli, for the most part sitting in the garden. They talked of many things and watched people who went past. The guests of Rivendell were and interesting and varied bunch, and the pair found it great fun to make up stories about them and why they might be there. It may have been childish, but it was rather enjoyable.
It was now evening, and Greenleaf was having an after-dinner drink (or few) with Gimli, Aragorn and the twins. They were on one of the balconies, out in the moonlight. Greenleaf sat on the balcony rail, wineglass in his hand. His legs were crossed and he glanced out over the garden. It was empty. He turned back to his companions.
"So," he said, "is there anyone interesting staying? You didn't give me a proper answer before."
"By interesting," said Aragorn, "I presume you mean criminal."
Greenleaf smiled. "Of course."
"There're one or two card sharks from Minas Tirith," replied Elrohir, "but they're not being too ambitious. Father's keeping an eye on them."
"And there's a couple of notorious women," added Elladan, grinning.
Greenleaf raised an eyebrow. "Notorious in what way?" he asked.
"Various," said Elladan. "There's Lady Compton, for starters. That man she has in tow is either her fifth or sixth husband; I'm not sure which. She likes to use their money and move on."
"Move on how?" asked Gimli.
Elladan pulled a mysterious face. "No one's ever sure," he said, "but more than a few have ended up dead."
"And there's Elliane of Brising," said Elrohir, "she's notorious for the usual reasons."
"Very popular with the men," said Elladan suggestively.
"She wouldn't leave me alone the other day," said Aragorn, "followed me around everywhere then looked coy when I told her to go away."
"What happened?" asked Greenleaf.
"Arwen took her off and had words," answered Aragorn.
"Oh, the poor woman," said Elladan, "surely she didn't deserve that. Arwen's got quite a tongue on her when roused."
"Who's the other woman around?" questioned Greenleaf.
"The red-haired one with the less favoured features?" queried Elrohir. "I don't actually know."
"I heard that she was from somewhere off East," said Aragorn, "but other than that, no idea."
"Wouldn't really want to know," remarked Elladan, "she's pretty ugly."
"Elladan!" his brother exclaimed. "You should be more polite."
"I think he's had a bit too much wine," said Greenleaf, sipping his own, "he's got no head for it."
"I can't help it if I wasn't brought up on it like you Mirkwood alcoholics," muttered Elladan, "we don't go in for heavy drinking round here."
"We don't in Mirkwood!"
"That's not what my father said," put in Gimli. All three Elves and Aragorn looked at him. "He said that they escaped sue to certain Elves being dead drunk."
Aragorn, Elladan and Elrohir all burst out laughing. Greenleaf stuck out his bottom lip.
"You're meant to be on my side," he told the Dwarf.
"But it's true!" protested Gimli.
"Betrayed by a Dwarf! Oh, what a tragedy!" declared Greenleaf, laying a hand across his brow.
"A travesty, more like," commented Elladan, smirking.
"Ah, sod the lot of you." Greenleaf slid down to stand on the floor. He drained his wineglass and placed it on the table. "I'm going to bed.
"Night then," said Elrohir.
"So, Gimli," said Elladan, turning to the Dwarf, "what else did your father see in Mirkwood?"
Greenleaf ignored them and left the room. He went down the corridor quietly. It was late, and most of Rivendell's inhabitants were in bed. Greenleaf needed no light to get to his room, and once he was inside there was enough moonlight coming through to see by. It didn't take him long to undress, wash and put on his nightshirt. He got into his bed, pulling the sheets up and lying back to sleep. His eyes remained open as he wandered the paths of Elvish dreams.
But the dreams soon became a nightmare. Greenleaf was back in Mordor, helpless and unable to move. Sauron was looming over him, fire burning beneath his helmet. Then Sauron's head morphed into Saruman's leering countenance.
"Such a pleasure, Prince Greenleaf," he hissed. His voice didn't come from his mouth, but from the bleeding wound across his neck.
He clutched a knife in his hand, Greenleaf's knife. It was crimson with blood. The liquid actually seemed to be pouring from the knife, flooding over Greenleaf, across his body and into his mouth, choking him.
"Everyone you've killed, Prince Greenleaf, "taunted Saruman, "such a lot of blood you've spilt. All those deaths." He chuckled wetly.
Greenleaf tried to respond, but could only gurgle. Another figure came to stand behind Saruman. It was Gríma, dripping wet and covered in large bite marks. He stared balefully at Greenleaf with just a hint of a malicious smile. Then the blood, still flowing from the knife, rose over his eyes and filled his vision with red. He could feel Saruman's hands on him, corpse- cold and grasping.
"Say goodbye to it, Prince Greenleaf," said the wizard, clawing at the Elf's blood-soaked skin. "Say goodbye..."
Greenleaf sat bolt upright in his bed. He was sweating and gasping for breath. He gazed around at the familiar surroundings of his room, reassuring himself of where he was. Valar, what a nightmare! He fell back against the pillows. That had been horrible. He was sure he could still feel Saruman's hand on his thigh.
Then what he could feel moved, and he knew there was definitely something there. He froze. It moved again. Looking down carefully, he saw a lump under the sheets. It travelled slowly up his leg and onto his hip, where it paused for a moment. Greenleaf could feel its every twitch clearly. It was about the size of the palm of his hand and felt as if it had too many legs. It was hairy too, with wiry bristles that scraped Greenleaf's skin.
Greenleaf momentarily stopped breathing as it suddenly moved across his stomach. It took an agonisingly long time, during which he had to breathe again as shallowly as he could. Then it came out from under the sheets onto his chest. It was a spider –small by Mirkwood standards- with red markings on its back. Greenleaf would have bet on it being poisonous. It crawled up across his ribs determinedly. He tried to make his breathing as imperceptible as possible so as not to antagonise the creature. It was difficult.
It crawled further upwards, out of his line of sight. He didn't dare move. Over his collarbone it went, having passed the fluttering heart, and began pulling itself up his pale throat. Greenleaf's breath caught. This spider, which could probably kill him with a single bite, was making its way along the vulnerable skin of his neck, across the pumping veins and shivering skin. The Elf could feel himself beginning to tremble and he fought to still it. He closed his mouth and eyes as the creature crept under the lobe of his right ear and onto his face. It followed, maybe purposefully maybe not, the trail of the scar up his cheek. He felt it walk across his closed right eye, its bristly body brushing his eyelashes. It stopped again just above his eyebrow, and Greenleaf held his breath, trying desperately not to move. He could feel himself sweating.
It moved on up to his hairline, pausing only slightly before walking into the blond mass. Greenleaf allowed himself to breathe again, while keeping his head perfectly still. If it had been anyone else he might have laughed at them –to be frightened of a spider in his hair! But he had grown up in Mirkwood, where to be dismissive of the danger of spiders was to risk death. And although he didn't recognise this type of spider, it definitely looked dangerous. He could feel the slight tugs on his hair as it worked across it, and then he felt nothing. Either it had left his hair or it was on the ends of it. Greenleaf gave it a couple of moments then took a chance.
He pushed himself up from the bed, spinning fast enough for his hair to fly out before settling around his shoulders. The spider sat on his pillow, stunned into sudden stillness by his move. Motivated by panicked disgust –which he would never admit to afterwards- Greenleaf grabbed the pillow and flung it onto the floor, sending the spider with you. Before the creature could scuttle anywhere Greenleaf leapt to the floor, seized up a shoe and brought it down hard on the spider. It was knocked onto its back and he slammed it again and again until it didn't move anymore.
Fear still pumped through his veins and his breath was fast and erratic as he stared at the arachnid. Warily, he poked it with the end of the shoe. It was dead, thankfully. He pushed his hair back. Then something occurred to him and he glanced around the room. There were too many dark corners and shadows to be sure he was alone. He eyed the bed, wondering what else could be lurking in the sheets. Making a decision, he hurried out of the room.
He reached Aragorn's room, which was next door to his, and knocked on the door. It was opened a few moments by a bleary-eyed Aragorn holding a candle.
"Oh," said the man, "I thought you were Arwen."
"Too much information," muttered Greenleaf.
Aragorn blinked, taking in the sight of the Elf before him. Greenleaf was pale and his hair hung around his face. He looked dishevelled. "What's up?" asked Aragorn.
"Do you know anything about foreign spiders?" questioned Greenleaf.
"A bit," replied Aragorn, looking confused.
"Come with me," said Greenleaf, grabbing Aragorn's arm. He pulled him along the corridor and into his room. "What do you think of that one?" he asked, pointing at the corpse on the floor.
Aragorn crouched down and examined it. "Looks like one of the Harad ones," he said eventually, "highly poisonous. Where did you find it?"
"In my bed."
"Ouch." Aragorn winced in sympathy. "Did it bite you?"
"No," replied Greenleaf, shaking his head.
"Didn't think so," said Aragorn lightly, "you'd have already been dead."
Greenleaf couldn't help but shudder. "Thank you for that," he said sardonically.
"My pleasure. I wonder how it got in." Aragorn stared at it, noticing the shoe beside it.
"I don't know. I suppose we can have a better look in the morning." Greenleaf turned his gaze to Aragorn. "Uh, could I sleep on the chair in your room tonight? I don't fancy staying in here."
"Of course," answered Aragorn, "I couldn't leave you in here with that, could I? It might come alive again or something. Or maybe its ghost will come and haunt you."
Greenleaf glared at him. "Very funny," he said acidly.
He followed Aragorn back along the corridor and into the man's room. It was much the same as his own, and Greenleaf found himself scrutinising the corners. Giving a mental headshake, he settled himself into the armchair by the fireplace, curling his legs under him.
"Here," said Aragorn, going over to his wardrobe, "have a blanket." He pulled one out and threw it over.
Greenleaf took it gratefully and tucked it round himself. "Thank you," he said.
"It's all right," said Aragorn. He got into his bed, pulled his sheets over him and blew out the candle. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," echoed Greenleaf, lying his head back.
Soon he could hear the man's gentle snores filling the room. He sighed. It wouldn't be easy for him to sleep again that night. The incident with the spider had shaken him more than he would admit to anyone, and he kept twitching, imagining the feel of its legs across his skin. He pulled the blanket closer round, feeling inexplicably chilly.
The nightmare wasn't really concerning him at all. He had got used to them in the time he had worked for the Service. Obviously it had been disturbing, but it was just a nightmare, and it couldn't hurt him. The people he had seen in it were dead, and dead men –or wizards or whatever- don't hurt. Greenleaf knew he had killed a lot of people in his time, but only if they'd deserved it. It was part of his job to do so, and to change his ways now would be unthinkable to say the least. Everyone and everything he'd killed had died for a reason. G wouldn't send him after anyone innocent, of that he was sure. Therefore he wouldn't let that nightmare, or any others, bother him. He shifted in the chair a little.
The matter of the spider was different. Surely it wasn't there by chance, not if it was native of Harad. Rivendell was a long way north of Harad, and there were no known spider migratory routes between the two places. But if it had been brought, why? And how did it get into his room? Greenleaf turned up tightly. He resolved to think about in the morning when he could discuss it with others. He drifted slowly off to sleep, where his dreams were full of spiders, ranging from Shelob-sized monsters to tiny ones with dripping fangs that crawled all over him.
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He woke later than he usually did. Aragorn was already up and half-dressed, digging through his drawers to find a shirt. He looked over as he noticed that Greenleaf was awake.
"Good morning," he said, "I didn't want to wake you. I thought you'd be tired. You didn't seem to be sleeping that peacefully."
"Bad dreams," said Greenleaf by way of explanation.
He stood, unfolding his legs stiffly. They protested against being sat on all night but he ignored them. He folded the blanket neatly and gave it back to Aragorn.
"Thank you again," he said with a wan smile.
"It's nothing," replied Aragorn, "really."
"I appreciate it," insisted Greenleaf.
He went out of the room and down the corridor to his own room, Aragorn following behind. The dead spider looked insignificant in the daylight. Greenleaf was almost inclined to dismiss his fears of the night before on seeing the sad little corpse, but remembered what Aragorn had told him.
"You said it was poisonous?" he asked the man.
"I'm pretty sure of it," said Aragorn, examining the spider again, "though it's a bit hard to confirm with it being so squashed."
"I wanted to make sure it was dead."
"You did a good job of that."
A knocking on the door that joined Greenleaf's room to the next one interrupted them.
"Are you going down to breakfast, Legolas?" came Gimli's voice.
"Oh," said Greenleaf, "come in a moment, Gimli."
The door opened and the Dwarf walked in. He appeared surprised at what he saw. "Good morning, Aragorn."
The man responded in kind.
"Having a late morning, Master Elf?" continued Gimli. "You're usually up long before now, but you're still in your nightshirt. How come?"
"I was disturbed in the middle of the night," answered Greenleaf, "by that." He pointed at the floor.
"Well," said Gimli sceptically after a moment, "you certainly showed it what for."
"I'm rather certain it's highly poisonous," said Aragorn, "so it's just as well Legolas killed it. I hate to think what would have happened otherwise.
"That's quite a cheerful thought to have," commented Greenleaf.
"Isn't it," said Aragorn. "Find something to put the thing in and we'll take it to Elrond after breakfast."
"You go on down," said Greenleaf, "I'll catch you up. I'd like to get dressed first."
"I'm sure the ladies wouldn't mind if you didn't," remarked Aragorn with a grin.
"Don't be crude," retorted Greenleaf, shooing them out of the door. He got dressed, being very careful to check each garment thoroughly before putting it on.
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And so it was that after breakfast a small group congregated in Lord Elrond's study. Greenleaf, Aragorn and Gimli were joined by Elladan and Elrohir, while Elrond sat at his desk. He examined the dead spider through a lens, frowning. Occasionally he would reach for a book and flick through its pages, muttering as he did. Finally, he looked up.
"You were right, Aragorn," he said, "it's from Near Harad, one of the types known as 'bird-eaters'. Very poisonous, I'm sure you'll be comforted to know, Legolas."
Greenleaf's mouth twitched. "I'm guessing you don't tend to get them round here," he said.
"Never," replied Elrond, "which makes me more than curious about it."
"I suppose," said Elrohir," it could have been carried in unknowingly in one of the guests' luggage, though that seems unlikely. Would it have waited so long to come out?"
"I doubt it," answered Elladan, continuing the line of thought, "and anyway, Legolas' room is in a different wing from the guests, like ours. That would have to be a pretty determined spider."
"So it was probably put there on purpose?" questioned Aragorn. The twins paused then nodded.
"Who on Middle-earth would want to do that?" asked Gimli.
"Only Legolas can tell us that," said Elrond, glancing across.
Greenleaf had been staring at the arm of the chair he sat on, just listening to the discussion. "I make a lot of enemies," he said vaguely.
"That's true enough," acceded Elrond. "I don't suppose you've recognised any of them around, have you?"
"Not one," replied Greenleaf, "though I could have a closer look later."
"A good idea," said Elrond, "spend some time tonight in the gambling halls and get a good look round at everyone." He smiled. "Just don't lose all your money."
"As if I would."
"Was someone trying to kill Legolas then?" asked Elrohir.
"It looks like it," said Elrond.
"What a dastardly way to go about it!" exclaimed Elladan.
"It is rather," agreed Elrohir, "and it'll probably be quite tricky getting our hands on him."
"Assuming that it is a him, of course," added Greenleaf.
"You think it's a woman?" scoffed Elrohir.
"I'm keeping an open mind," said Greenleaf, "it never hurts to."
"And how many women do you know who would be capable of such?" asked Elladan, folding his arms.
"I see you have never met a shield maiden of the Rohirrim," commented Greenleaf, grinning at Aragorn, "failing that, I'd say that your sister's pretty deadly, with or without a blade in her hand."
"A good point," said Elrond, smiling, "and well made. Quite accurate too." He looked at his sons. "Come now, you are not as unworldly as all that. Women can fight also."
"Aye," said Gimli unexpectedly, "among my people they do."
They all turned to look at him, and he flushed a little. Greenleaf smiled, just knowing what someone would ask. It was Elladan who did.
"I wasn't exactly aware that there were Dwarf women," he said, oh-so- delicately.
"Of course there are!" replied Gimli. "How do you suppose Dwarves are born? Think we just spring out of the rock?"
"Thing is, Elladan," explained Greenleaf, placing and arm around the other Elf's shoulders and thoroughly enjoying himself, "Dwarf women are so alike to Dwarf men that it is hard to tell the difference."
"We know," said Gimli.
"Naturally," continued Greenleaf, "but to the untrained eye it is no easy task." He whispered in Elladan's ear. "I believe there's something to do with the silkiness of their beards."
"Oh," said Elladan. He gave Gimli's beard a sideways glance. "Hmm..."
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Greenleaf took his time getting dressed before he went down to the gambling halls. He wanted to make the proper impression on his fellow players. They had, obviously, already seen him at dinner, but never to be introduced or talk to. Besides, the better he looked the more confident he felt.
He selected a deep green tunic, cut just above the knee and with silver embroidery up the chest and round the neck. It was a well-made tunic, which fitted perfectly. It had been made in Mirkwood by the best tailor there –there were some perks to being royalty. With the tunic he wore a brown pair of leggings, combining the two colours favoured by Silvan Elves. He eyed his hair critically for a moment then plaited it in his usual style, fingers twisting the long strands easily in the familiar patterns. He examined his reflection. A handsome –though he said it himself- and well- dressed Elf looked back at him, impeccably groomed. There was one imperfection; the pale scar down his right cheek. But even that didn't spoil the effect; it gave him an almost rakish air.
With one final look, he headed out of his room and down the corridor. He met Aragorn on the way. The man gave him a big grin.
"Knock 'em dead," he said.
"I think Lord Elrond would take issue with me if I did," replied Greenleaf, "I'm just going for the fun."
"I might join you later," said Aragorn.
"What for?" asked Greenleaf. "Do you think I'll need help?"
"Oh, of course not. I just want to see the entertainment."
"Hah!" snorted Greenleaf.
"Seriously," said Aragorn soberly, laying a hand on Greenleaf's shoulder, "watch your back."
Greenleaf smiled at him. "I always do. Don't worry."
He went on his way. The gambling halls were on the opposite side of the valley, reached by a long white bridge that spanned one of the waterfalls. Greenleaf crossed it, enjoying the view as he did. It was early evening, the sky was still light and birds still flew around. The updraft created by the falling water caught the ends of his hair, lifting them gently. It was very peaceful, and the perfect evening in Greenleaf's opinion for some entertainment. He walked inside, nodding cheerfully at the two Elves who stood there as guards.
It was the custom in the halls for gamblers to bet almost anything they wished, though the line was emphatically drawn at bringing livestock inside. The dealers were always there to settle any arguments about the value of items, and on the whole it made for a good system. Gems and precious stones were a fairly common currency, and Elrond ensured that experts were on hand should any dispute arise. Bottles of drink were also popular, particularly wine or beer. Greenleaf had brought gems, stored in several different bags about his person. It was probably a foolish precaution, as the halls were quite safe, but old habits die hard and Greenleaf had had a long lifetime in which to build habits up.
The halls themselves were built like the rest of Rivendell. Pale stone formed the walls, in which were set high arches. Late evening sunlight shafted through, falling across the rich red carpets. A lavish mural covered one wall, depicting Nimrodel and Amroth, while graceful statues stood against the rest. Lord Elrond reminding the gamblers where they are, thought Greenleaf wryly. The gambling tables were around the room in a seemingly random pattern, though he was sure there would be a reason for each placing. He headed for the bar.
"A Mirkwood red, please," he said, leaning on the bar.
"The '69 or the '75?" asked the bar Elf.
"The '69, of course," said Greenleaf.
"A good choice," replied the bar Elf, turning to get it. He opened the bottle professionally and poured the red wine into a crystal glass. "Enjoy, sir."
"Thank you."
Greenleaf leant his back against the bar and sipped his wine. The gamblers were going on with their business, mostly concentrating on the job in hand. A few heads turned in curiosity to see the Elf, though none he recognised. He let his eyes wander over them, his gaze never lingering over anyone for long. Mostly men, though a couple of Dwarves sat at the blackjack table, a few Elves were around, and Greenleaf could see two women. And was that a hobbit in the far corner? It could be, though they were rare this far from the Shire. The last time Greenleaf had seen one in Rivendell Saruman had been stealing the ring from him. Greenleaf smiled. Yes, it was definitely a hobbit. The curly hair and hairy feet were a dead giveaway.
"Good evening, Sir Elf," said a voice from behind. "Are you here to join in the games?"
Greenleaf turned. It was the lady pointed out by the twins as Elliane of Brising. "Yes, I am," he replied.
"And do you have company?" she asked.
"No," he said, dreading what else she was going to say.
"Then I must accompany you!" she exclaimed, smiling charmingly.
"I would be delighted," said Greenleaf, feeling anything but, "my lady."
"Oh, you must call me Elliane," she said. "You are?"
"Greenleaf. Legolas Greenleaf."
"Wonderful," she trilled, taking his arm and pulling him out onto the floor.
Greenleaf gallantly allowed himself to be pulled. She seemed almost pleasant, if overbearing. He kept remembering Elrohir's words, "notorious for the usual reasons" and Elladan's addition, "very popular with the men". He could see why. Dressed in a red dress just on the right side of decent, she was stunning, if a little well maintained. Dark hair was piled on the back of her head. Her breasts were pushed up to prominence, curving into the front of her dress. Greenleaf wondered for a moment whether the reason she had a reputation was because she didn't give any man a chance to say no. With an imperceptible sigh, he let himself be dragged to the poker table.
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The Span of Solace
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, therefore it never actually happened. Legolas and associated characters were created by JRR Tolkien. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig.
Author's Notes: I made up the big white bridge. As far as I know there isn't one in Rivendell. But I figured that if whatsisname can make one up in Harry Potter 3 then I can in this.
Review reply: (only one. Where are you all?) Idlewild: more of the gambling halls in chapter three, that I promise. Who don't you believe is dead? Surely our favourite wizard couldn't have survived... And I'd have updated sooner, or maybe not, if I hadn't been in Blackpool all weekend. Ah, the joys of tackiness.
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Chapter 2. Strange Bedfellows
Greenleaf had spent the day with Gimli, for the most part sitting in the garden. They talked of many things and watched people who went past. The guests of Rivendell were and interesting and varied bunch, and the pair found it great fun to make up stories about them and why they might be there. It may have been childish, but it was rather enjoyable.
It was now evening, and Greenleaf was having an after-dinner drink (or few) with Gimli, Aragorn and the twins. They were on one of the balconies, out in the moonlight. Greenleaf sat on the balcony rail, wineglass in his hand. His legs were crossed and he glanced out over the garden. It was empty. He turned back to his companions.
"So," he said, "is there anyone interesting staying? You didn't give me a proper answer before."
"By interesting," said Aragorn, "I presume you mean criminal."
Greenleaf smiled. "Of course."
"There're one or two card sharks from Minas Tirith," replied Elrohir, "but they're not being too ambitious. Father's keeping an eye on them."
"And there's a couple of notorious women," added Elladan, grinning.
Greenleaf raised an eyebrow. "Notorious in what way?" he asked.
"Various," said Elladan. "There's Lady Compton, for starters. That man she has in tow is either her fifth or sixth husband; I'm not sure which. She likes to use their money and move on."
"Move on how?" asked Gimli.
Elladan pulled a mysterious face. "No one's ever sure," he said, "but more than a few have ended up dead."
"And there's Elliane of Brising," said Elrohir, "she's notorious for the usual reasons."
"Very popular with the men," said Elladan suggestively.
"She wouldn't leave me alone the other day," said Aragorn, "followed me around everywhere then looked coy when I told her to go away."
"What happened?" asked Greenleaf.
"Arwen took her off and had words," answered Aragorn.
"Oh, the poor woman," said Elladan, "surely she didn't deserve that. Arwen's got quite a tongue on her when roused."
"Who's the other woman around?" questioned Greenleaf.
"The red-haired one with the less favoured features?" queried Elrohir. "I don't actually know."
"I heard that she was from somewhere off East," said Aragorn, "but other than that, no idea."
"Wouldn't really want to know," remarked Elladan, "she's pretty ugly."
"Elladan!" his brother exclaimed. "You should be more polite."
"I think he's had a bit too much wine," said Greenleaf, sipping his own, "he's got no head for it."
"I can't help it if I wasn't brought up on it like you Mirkwood alcoholics," muttered Elladan, "we don't go in for heavy drinking round here."
"We don't in Mirkwood!"
"That's not what my father said," put in Gimli. All three Elves and Aragorn looked at him. "He said that they escaped sue to certain Elves being dead drunk."
Aragorn, Elladan and Elrohir all burst out laughing. Greenleaf stuck out his bottom lip.
"You're meant to be on my side," he told the Dwarf.
"But it's true!" protested Gimli.
"Betrayed by a Dwarf! Oh, what a tragedy!" declared Greenleaf, laying a hand across his brow.
"A travesty, more like," commented Elladan, smirking.
"Ah, sod the lot of you." Greenleaf slid down to stand on the floor. He drained his wineglass and placed it on the table. "I'm going to bed.
"Night then," said Elrohir.
"So, Gimli," said Elladan, turning to the Dwarf, "what else did your father see in Mirkwood?"
Greenleaf ignored them and left the room. He went down the corridor quietly. It was late, and most of Rivendell's inhabitants were in bed. Greenleaf needed no light to get to his room, and once he was inside there was enough moonlight coming through to see by. It didn't take him long to undress, wash and put on his nightshirt. He got into his bed, pulling the sheets up and lying back to sleep. His eyes remained open as he wandered the paths of Elvish dreams.
But the dreams soon became a nightmare. Greenleaf was back in Mordor, helpless and unable to move. Sauron was looming over him, fire burning beneath his helmet. Then Sauron's head morphed into Saruman's leering countenance.
"Such a pleasure, Prince Greenleaf," he hissed. His voice didn't come from his mouth, but from the bleeding wound across his neck.
He clutched a knife in his hand, Greenleaf's knife. It was crimson with blood. The liquid actually seemed to be pouring from the knife, flooding over Greenleaf, across his body and into his mouth, choking him.
"Everyone you've killed, Prince Greenleaf, "taunted Saruman, "such a lot of blood you've spilt. All those deaths." He chuckled wetly.
Greenleaf tried to respond, but could only gurgle. Another figure came to stand behind Saruman. It was Gríma, dripping wet and covered in large bite marks. He stared balefully at Greenleaf with just a hint of a malicious smile. Then the blood, still flowing from the knife, rose over his eyes and filled his vision with red. He could feel Saruman's hands on him, corpse- cold and grasping.
"Say goodbye to it, Prince Greenleaf," said the wizard, clawing at the Elf's blood-soaked skin. "Say goodbye..."
Greenleaf sat bolt upright in his bed. He was sweating and gasping for breath. He gazed around at the familiar surroundings of his room, reassuring himself of where he was. Valar, what a nightmare! He fell back against the pillows. That had been horrible. He was sure he could still feel Saruman's hand on his thigh.
Then what he could feel moved, and he knew there was definitely something there. He froze. It moved again. Looking down carefully, he saw a lump under the sheets. It travelled slowly up his leg and onto his hip, where it paused for a moment. Greenleaf could feel its every twitch clearly. It was about the size of the palm of his hand and felt as if it had too many legs. It was hairy too, with wiry bristles that scraped Greenleaf's skin.
Greenleaf momentarily stopped breathing as it suddenly moved across his stomach. It took an agonisingly long time, during which he had to breathe again as shallowly as he could. Then it came out from under the sheets onto his chest. It was a spider –small by Mirkwood standards- with red markings on its back. Greenleaf would have bet on it being poisonous. It crawled up across his ribs determinedly. He tried to make his breathing as imperceptible as possible so as not to antagonise the creature. It was difficult.
It crawled further upwards, out of his line of sight. He didn't dare move. Over his collarbone it went, having passed the fluttering heart, and began pulling itself up his pale throat. Greenleaf's breath caught. This spider, which could probably kill him with a single bite, was making its way along the vulnerable skin of his neck, across the pumping veins and shivering skin. The Elf could feel himself beginning to tremble and he fought to still it. He closed his mouth and eyes as the creature crept under the lobe of his right ear and onto his face. It followed, maybe purposefully maybe not, the trail of the scar up his cheek. He felt it walk across his closed right eye, its bristly body brushing his eyelashes. It stopped again just above his eyebrow, and Greenleaf held his breath, trying desperately not to move. He could feel himself sweating.
It moved on up to his hairline, pausing only slightly before walking into the blond mass. Greenleaf allowed himself to breathe again, while keeping his head perfectly still. If it had been anyone else he might have laughed at them –to be frightened of a spider in his hair! But he had grown up in Mirkwood, where to be dismissive of the danger of spiders was to risk death. And although he didn't recognise this type of spider, it definitely looked dangerous. He could feel the slight tugs on his hair as it worked across it, and then he felt nothing. Either it had left his hair or it was on the ends of it. Greenleaf gave it a couple of moments then took a chance.
He pushed himself up from the bed, spinning fast enough for his hair to fly out before settling around his shoulders. The spider sat on his pillow, stunned into sudden stillness by his move. Motivated by panicked disgust –which he would never admit to afterwards- Greenleaf grabbed the pillow and flung it onto the floor, sending the spider with you. Before the creature could scuttle anywhere Greenleaf leapt to the floor, seized up a shoe and brought it down hard on the spider. It was knocked onto its back and he slammed it again and again until it didn't move anymore.
Fear still pumped through his veins and his breath was fast and erratic as he stared at the arachnid. Warily, he poked it with the end of the shoe. It was dead, thankfully. He pushed his hair back. Then something occurred to him and he glanced around the room. There were too many dark corners and shadows to be sure he was alone. He eyed the bed, wondering what else could be lurking in the sheets. Making a decision, he hurried out of the room.
He reached Aragorn's room, which was next door to his, and knocked on the door. It was opened a few moments by a bleary-eyed Aragorn holding a candle.
"Oh," said the man, "I thought you were Arwen."
"Too much information," muttered Greenleaf.
Aragorn blinked, taking in the sight of the Elf before him. Greenleaf was pale and his hair hung around his face. He looked dishevelled. "What's up?" asked Aragorn.
"Do you know anything about foreign spiders?" questioned Greenleaf.
"A bit," replied Aragorn, looking confused.
"Come with me," said Greenleaf, grabbing Aragorn's arm. He pulled him along the corridor and into his room. "What do you think of that one?" he asked, pointing at the corpse on the floor.
Aragorn crouched down and examined it. "Looks like one of the Harad ones," he said eventually, "highly poisonous. Where did you find it?"
"In my bed."
"Ouch." Aragorn winced in sympathy. "Did it bite you?"
"No," replied Greenleaf, shaking his head.
"Didn't think so," said Aragorn lightly, "you'd have already been dead."
Greenleaf couldn't help but shudder. "Thank you for that," he said sardonically.
"My pleasure. I wonder how it got in." Aragorn stared at it, noticing the shoe beside it.
"I don't know. I suppose we can have a better look in the morning." Greenleaf turned his gaze to Aragorn. "Uh, could I sleep on the chair in your room tonight? I don't fancy staying in here."
"Of course," answered Aragorn, "I couldn't leave you in here with that, could I? It might come alive again or something. Or maybe its ghost will come and haunt you."
Greenleaf glared at him. "Very funny," he said acidly.
He followed Aragorn back along the corridor and into the man's room. It was much the same as his own, and Greenleaf found himself scrutinising the corners. Giving a mental headshake, he settled himself into the armchair by the fireplace, curling his legs under him.
"Here," said Aragorn, going over to his wardrobe, "have a blanket." He pulled one out and threw it over.
Greenleaf took it gratefully and tucked it round himself. "Thank you," he said.
"It's all right," said Aragorn. He got into his bed, pulled his sheets over him and blew out the candle. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," echoed Greenleaf, lying his head back.
Soon he could hear the man's gentle snores filling the room. He sighed. It wouldn't be easy for him to sleep again that night. The incident with the spider had shaken him more than he would admit to anyone, and he kept twitching, imagining the feel of its legs across his skin. He pulled the blanket closer round, feeling inexplicably chilly.
The nightmare wasn't really concerning him at all. He had got used to them in the time he had worked for the Service. Obviously it had been disturbing, but it was just a nightmare, and it couldn't hurt him. The people he had seen in it were dead, and dead men –or wizards or whatever- don't hurt. Greenleaf knew he had killed a lot of people in his time, but only if they'd deserved it. It was part of his job to do so, and to change his ways now would be unthinkable to say the least. Everyone and everything he'd killed had died for a reason. G wouldn't send him after anyone innocent, of that he was sure. Therefore he wouldn't let that nightmare, or any others, bother him. He shifted in the chair a little.
The matter of the spider was different. Surely it wasn't there by chance, not if it was native of Harad. Rivendell was a long way north of Harad, and there were no known spider migratory routes between the two places. But if it had been brought, why? And how did it get into his room? Greenleaf turned up tightly. He resolved to think about in the morning when he could discuss it with others. He drifted slowly off to sleep, where his dreams were full of spiders, ranging from Shelob-sized monsters to tiny ones with dripping fangs that crawled all over him.
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He woke later than he usually did. Aragorn was already up and half-dressed, digging through his drawers to find a shirt. He looked over as he noticed that Greenleaf was awake.
"Good morning," he said, "I didn't want to wake you. I thought you'd be tired. You didn't seem to be sleeping that peacefully."
"Bad dreams," said Greenleaf by way of explanation.
He stood, unfolding his legs stiffly. They protested against being sat on all night but he ignored them. He folded the blanket neatly and gave it back to Aragorn.
"Thank you again," he said with a wan smile.
"It's nothing," replied Aragorn, "really."
"I appreciate it," insisted Greenleaf.
He went out of the room and down the corridor to his own room, Aragorn following behind. The dead spider looked insignificant in the daylight. Greenleaf was almost inclined to dismiss his fears of the night before on seeing the sad little corpse, but remembered what Aragorn had told him.
"You said it was poisonous?" he asked the man.
"I'm pretty sure of it," said Aragorn, examining the spider again, "though it's a bit hard to confirm with it being so squashed."
"I wanted to make sure it was dead."
"You did a good job of that."
A knocking on the door that joined Greenleaf's room to the next one interrupted them.
"Are you going down to breakfast, Legolas?" came Gimli's voice.
"Oh," said Greenleaf, "come in a moment, Gimli."
The door opened and the Dwarf walked in. He appeared surprised at what he saw. "Good morning, Aragorn."
The man responded in kind.
"Having a late morning, Master Elf?" continued Gimli. "You're usually up long before now, but you're still in your nightshirt. How come?"
"I was disturbed in the middle of the night," answered Greenleaf, "by that." He pointed at the floor.
"Well," said Gimli sceptically after a moment, "you certainly showed it what for."
"I'm rather certain it's highly poisonous," said Aragorn, "so it's just as well Legolas killed it. I hate to think what would have happened otherwise.
"That's quite a cheerful thought to have," commented Greenleaf.
"Isn't it," said Aragorn. "Find something to put the thing in and we'll take it to Elrond after breakfast."
"You go on down," said Greenleaf, "I'll catch you up. I'd like to get dressed first."
"I'm sure the ladies wouldn't mind if you didn't," remarked Aragorn with a grin.
"Don't be crude," retorted Greenleaf, shooing them out of the door. He got dressed, being very careful to check each garment thoroughly before putting it on.
:::::::::::::::::::
And so it was that after breakfast a small group congregated in Lord Elrond's study. Greenleaf, Aragorn and Gimli were joined by Elladan and Elrohir, while Elrond sat at his desk. He examined the dead spider through a lens, frowning. Occasionally he would reach for a book and flick through its pages, muttering as he did. Finally, he looked up.
"You were right, Aragorn," he said, "it's from Near Harad, one of the types known as 'bird-eaters'. Very poisonous, I'm sure you'll be comforted to know, Legolas."
Greenleaf's mouth twitched. "I'm guessing you don't tend to get them round here," he said.
"Never," replied Elrond, "which makes me more than curious about it."
"I suppose," said Elrohir," it could have been carried in unknowingly in one of the guests' luggage, though that seems unlikely. Would it have waited so long to come out?"
"I doubt it," answered Elladan, continuing the line of thought, "and anyway, Legolas' room is in a different wing from the guests, like ours. That would have to be a pretty determined spider."
"So it was probably put there on purpose?" questioned Aragorn. The twins paused then nodded.
"Who on Middle-earth would want to do that?" asked Gimli.
"Only Legolas can tell us that," said Elrond, glancing across.
Greenleaf had been staring at the arm of the chair he sat on, just listening to the discussion. "I make a lot of enemies," he said vaguely.
"That's true enough," acceded Elrond. "I don't suppose you've recognised any of them around, have you?"
"Not one," replied Greenleaf, "though I could have a closer look later."
"A good idea," said Elrond, "spend some time tonight in the gambling halls and get a good look round at everyone." He smiled. "Just don't lose all your money."
"As if I would."
"Was someone trying to kill Legolas then?" asked Elrohir.
"It looks like it," said Elrond.
"What a dastardly way to go about it!" exclaimed Elladan.
"It is rather," agreed Elrohir, "and it'll probably be quite tricky getting our hands on him."
"Assuming that it is a him, of course," added Greenleaf.
"You think it's a woman?" scoffed Elrohir.
"I'm keeping an open mind," said Greenleaf, "it never hurts to."
"And how many women do you know who would be capable of such?" asked Elladan, folding his arms.
"I see you have never met a shield maiden of the Rohirrim," commented Greenleaf, grinning at Aragorn, "failing that, I'd say that your sister's pretty deadly, with or without a blade in her hand."
"A good point," said Elrond, smiling, "and well made. Quite accurate too." He looked at his sons. "Come now, you are not as unworldly as all that. Women can fight also."
"Aye," said Gimli unexpectedly, "among my people they do."
They all turned to look at him, and he flushed a little. Greenleaf smiled, just knowing what someone would ask. It was Elladan who did.
"I wasn't exactly aware that there were Dwarf women," he said, oh-so- delicately.
"Of course there are!" replied Gimli. "How do you suppose Dwarves are born? Think we just spring out of the rock?"
"Thing is, Elladan," explained Greenleaf, placing and arm around the other Elf's shoulders and thoroughly enjoying himself, "Dwarf women are so alike to Dwarf men that it is hard to tell the difference."
"We know," said Gimli.
"Naturally," continued Greenleaf, "but to the untrained eye it is no easy task." He whispered in Elladan's ear. "I believe there's something to do with the silkiness of their beards."
"Oh," said Elladan. He gave Gimli's beard a sideways glance. "Hmm..."
:::::::::::::::::::
Greenleaf took his time getting dressed before he went down to the gambling halls. He wanted to make the proper impression on his fellow players. They had, obviously, already seen him at dinner, but never to be introduced or talk to. Besides, the better he looked the more confident he felt.
He selected a deep green tunic, cut just above the knee and with silver embroidery up the chest and round the neck. It was a well-made tunic, which fitted perfectly. It had been made in Mirkwood by the best tailor there –there were some perks to being royalty. With the tunic he wore a brown pair of leggings, combining the two colours favoured by Silvan Elves. He eyed his hair critically for a moment then plaited it in his usual style, fingers twisting the long strands easily in the familiar patterns. He examined his reflection. A handsome –though he said it himself- and well- dressed Elf looked back at him, impeccably groomed. There was one imperfection; the pale scar down his right cheek. But even that didn't spoil the effect; it gave him an almost rakish air.
With one final look, he headed out of his room and down the corridor. He met Aragorn on the way. The man gave him a big grin.
"Knock 'em dead," he said.
"I think Lord Elrond would take issue with me if I did," replied Greenleaf, "I'm just going for the fun."
"I might join you later," said Aragorn.
"What for?" asked Greenleaf. "Do you think I'll need help?"
"Oh, of course not. I just want to see the entertainment."
"Hah!" snorted Greenleaf.
"Seriously," said Aragorn soberly, laying a hand on Greenleaf's shoulder, "watch your back."
Greenleaf smiled at him. "I always do. Don't worry."
He went on his way. The gambling halls were on the opposite side of the valley, reached by a long white bridge that spanned one of the waterfalls. Greenleaf crossed it, enjoying the view as he did. It was early evening, the sky was still light and birds still flew around. The updraft created by the falling water caught the ends of his hair, lifting them gently. It was very peaceful, and the perfect evening in Greenleaf's opinion for some entertainment. He walked inside, nodding cheerfully at the two Elves who stood there as guards.
It was the custom in the halls for gamblers to bet almost anything they wished, though the line was emphatically drawn at bringing livestock inside. The dealers were always there to settle any arguments about the value of items, and on the whole it made for a good system. Gems and precious stones were a fairly common currency, and Elrond ensured that experts were on hand should any dispute arise. Bottles of drink were also popular, particularly wine or beer. Greenleaf had brought gems, stored in several different bags about his person. It was probably a foolish precaution, as the halls were quite safe, but old habits die hard and Greenleaf had had a long lifetime in which to build habits up.
The halls themselves were built like the rest of Rivendell. Pale stone formed the walls, in which were set high arches. Late evening sunlight shafted through, falling across the rich red carpets. A lavish mural covered one wall, depicting Nimrodel and Amroth, while graceful statues stood against the rest. Lord Elrond reminding the gamblers where they are, thought Greenleaf wryly. The gambling tables were around the room in a seemingly random pattern, though he was sure there would be a reason for each placing. He headed for the bar.
"A Mirkwood red, please," he said, leaning on the bar.
"The '69 or the '75?" asked the bar Elf.
"The '69, of course," said Greenleaf.
"A good choice," replied the bar Elf, turning to get it. He opened the bottle professionally and poured the red wine into a crystal glass. "Enjoy, sir."
"Thank you."
Greenleaf leant his back against the bar and sipped his wine. The gamblers were going on with their business, mostly concentrating on the job in hand. A few heads turned in curiosity to see the Elf, though none he recognised. He let his eyes wander over them, his gaze never lingering over anyone for long. Mostly men, though a couple of Dwarves sat at the blackjack table, a few Elves were around, and Greenleaf could see two women. And was that a hobbit in the far corner? It could be, though they were rare this far from the Shire. The last time Greenleaf had seen one in Rivendell Saruman had been stealing the ring from him. Greenleaf smiled. Yes, it was definitely a hobbit. The curly hair and hairy feet were a dead giveaway.
"Good evening, Sir Elf," said a voice from behind. "Are you here to join in the games?"
Greenleaf turned. It was the lady pointed out by the twins as Elliane of Brising. "Yes, I am," he replied.
"And do you have company?" she asked.
"No," he said, dreading what else she was going to say.
"Then I must accompany you!" she exclaimed, smiling charmingly.
"I would be delighted," said Greenleaf, feeling anything but, "my lady."
"Oh, you must call me Elliane," she said. "You are?"
"Greenleaf. Legolas Greenleaf."
"Wonderful," she trilled, taking his arm and pulling him out onto the floor.
Greenleaf gallantly allowed himself to be pulled. She seemed almost pleasant, if overbearing. He kept remembering Elrohir's words, "notorious for the usual reasons" and Elladan's addition, "very popular with the men". He could see why. Dressed in a red dress just on the right side of decent, she was stunning, if a little well maintained. Dark hair was piled on the back of her head. Her breasts were pushed up to prominence, curving into the front of her dress. Greenleaf wondered for a moment whether the reason she had a reputation was because she didn't give any man a chance to say no. With an imperceptible sigh, he let himself be dragged to the poker table.
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