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: As I am going away on an orchestra course for about two weeks from tomorrow, chapter five will not be posted next week. Apologies. I'm going to be having lots of fun elsewhere. Hopefully this will keep you going. I've been rather busy in the last week, playing for a production of 'Les Miserables', so not much else to say. If I hadn't been punning on Bond titles, the chapter would have been called 'If You Go Down To The Woods Today'.
Review replies: Jellyman: wow, rather a lot of reviews there. Kept me happy. I'm glad you like the series. I was quite proud of having the pair go off round Middle-earth; it seemed both Tolkienish and Bondian.
Idlewild: What does 'mea culpa' mean? (shows own ignorance.) You noticed my little trail of Bond-inspired baddies then. I'm running out of Tolkien ones. And you want more attempts on his life? Your wish is my command.
Nemo Returning: You are far too good at irritating puns. I'm rubbish at poker really. I made it all up.
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Chapter 4. The Elf With The Golden Hair
The picnic took place in the woods to the west of Rivendell, where the light fell green through the leaves of the trees. It was a glorious day, with bright sunshine and clear blue skies. Despite that, it was cool beneath the trees, pleasantly so. They spread a green blanket on the grass to sit on. Elliane flopped onto it.
"Phew!" she exclaimed. "Isn't it a hot day?"
It wasn't precisely clear why she was so hot. As far as was decent she wore as little material as possible, though her dress seemed overly complicated. Arwen sat down with much more elegance. She wore a simple white dress, confident that anything looked good on an Elf.
Greenleaf and Aragorn had carried the picnic hamper between them, and they set it down beside the blanket. Inside it was a testament to the skills of Rivendell's cooks. Bread, cheese, ham and eggs were all quickly taken out and set on the blanket. Many varieties of cake soon followed. Greenleaf, taking out the last one, felt something lumpy and hard beneath the cloth at the bottom. Checking that no one was looking, he lifted the corner and had a peek. It was Gimli's axe, tucked among the folds. Greenleaf smirked a little. The Dwarf must have out it in after he had hidden his knife there.
"Oh, doesn't it all look wonderful!" said Elliane. She seemed to be at her most enthusiastic.
"That's one thing I'll say about Elf-homes," said Gimli, "they do the best food."
"I supervised it personally," out in Arwen, unfolding a napkin delicately on her lap.
"And you've done so perfectly," said Aragorn, settling beside her. His hand touched hers briefly and they shared a smile. "I can't wait to get started on it."
"It's not that long since you had breakfast," chastised Greenleaf lightly, "you did get up rather late."
"Long after the rest of us," added Gimli.
"Well," retorted Aragorn, "not all of us have Elven endurance. Just because you can spend all night drinking and get up next morning fresh as a daisy. Particularly considering that stuff you drink."
"Never mind," said Greenleaf, "I'm sure you weren't the last one up. I wonder who was." It was an open ended comment.
"That would probably have been Lord Bloaf," said Elliane, "he's hardly ever at breakfast. He wasn't today."
"Maybe he has it in bed," suggested Greenleaf.
"Not that I know of," replied Elliane.
Arwen had to stuff a sandwich in her mouth to stop from giggling. When Elliane wasn't paying attention she Arwen sent Greenleaf a sharp look. That was mean, her look said, leading her on like that. Greenleaf merely smiled back innocently. He wasn't implying anything; he was letting Elliane do it herself. She was the sort of woman he generally despised, but found fascinating all the same. She was guaranteed to say something that should by rights embarrass her hugely but manage to say it without realising. It was quite an entertainment.
"There's a lot of people staying here," said Greenleaf, "I'm sure there's not usually this many."
"No, there aren't," said Aragorn, "we are remarkably full at the moment. I don't really know why."
"Oh, word's been getting around about the halls here," replied Elliane.
"Has it?" asked Arwen.
"Yes," replied Elliane, "some of Minas Tirith's upper crust came last year and they found it rather splendid. Good location, good gambling, and charming people. And, well, when they recommend something then everyone's got to be involved."
"That's good," said Arwen distantly, "good to know we're popular."
"Well, it's got so much more style here," continued Elliane, "compared with the human run establishments. And people are curious about Elves."
"Are they?" asked Greenleaf. "I can't think why."
"Oh, you know," said Aragorn with a grin, "they're odd sorts of folk, to be sure. Can't figure them out at all."
Arwen, sitting next to him, gave him a playful cuff round the head.
"It's the females that are the worst," added Aragorn, ducking.
"They aren't as hard to understand as Dwarves," said Greenleaf, winking at Gimli, "why any race would choose to live underground is completely beyond me."
"It's better than talking to trees," retorted Gimli.
"Oh, do you really talk to trees?" asked Elliane, quite sincerely. "I had heard that in a rumour but didn't believe it. Is it true?"
"I..." Greenleaf began.
"Come on, Legolas, answer the lady," said Gimli, looking thoroughly happy.
"Yes, do go on," said Aragorn, "I'm all ears."
"It's not so much talking to them," explained Greenleaf, "as much as listening to them. They all have voices, you know, and songs of their own. The Elves woke them, a long time ago."
"It's mostly just Wood-elves," put in Arwen, "and it's not so much talking to them as singing is what he means."
"Snooty Noldor," muttered Greenleaf.
"That's amazing!" exclaimed Elliane. "What are they saying now?"
"Now? I don't know." Greenleaf glanced around, looking at the trees and listening to them. The trees here were quiet and restful for the most part, but they seemed eager to speak to him. He listened happily to their woody chorus, but soon lost his cheer on hearing what they said.
He dived to the left suddenly. A long wooden arrow thunked into the ground where he had been sitting and stuck there quivering. Greenleaf rolled to a crouch, seeing as he did that the others were frozen, transfixed by the sight of the arrow.
"Move!" he yelled, dodging another arrow. It brushed his hair as it whistled past.
He grabbed one of Gimli's rock cakes from the blanket. It was quite solid (Greenleaf privately suspected it to be a Dwarvish preference to eat rock- like things) and had enough weight to it. He hurled it at where the shots had come from. It hit something, and then there was the sound of a person fleeing clumsily.
"What's going on?" asked Elliane, an image of a damsel in distress.
Greenleaf didn't answer. "Gimli," he ordered, "escort the ladies back. Leave the hamper for now. Ar- Estel, come with me."
"But..." protested Gimli.
"Don't argue," said Greenleaf, "go."
He reached into the hamper and pulled out Gimli's axe and his own knife. Aragorn raised an eyebrow momentarily before pulling a knife from his own boot. They both took off into the trees, running fast. Gimli glared after them for a moment. Why, he asked silently, leave me with the wenches?
Greenleaf ran ahead, long legs covering the distance easily. Aragorn came along not far behind. Their prey fled before them, breaking many branches as he did. He was heading for the edge of the woods, where he probably had a horse. Greenleaf quickened his pace, planning on catching the man before he got that far. It obviously was a man ahead, a hunter by the look of him. He crashed through the foliage, surprisingly fast, but Greenleaf was gaining steadily. He ducked a wildly swinging branch and hurried on.
The hunter's back was visible ahead when Greenleaf decided on a new tactic. Gripping a tree limb above his head he swung upwards, leaping lightly up into the branches. Aragorn carried on below, unsurprised as the Elf vanished upwards. Greenleaf made his way through the trees by a mixture of running, jumping and swinging. His feet landed surely on each branch, just as his hands kept their hold firmly. He caught up with the hunter easily. They ran in parallel for a short while before Greenleaf leapt down.
He landed on the hunter with a satisfyingly solid thump. Greenleaf wrapped his legs round the man's body as they both fell to the ground. They struggled, but it was very one-sided. Aragorn arrived as Greenleaf pinned the hunter to the forest floor face down.
"Mind telling us what that was all about?" asked Greenleaf, quite politely.
The man said nothing. Greenleaf sighed and placed the tip of his knife on the ground beside the man's face.
"I can get a little impatient," he warned.
"He can," said Aragorn, "the results aren't pretty, trust me."
The hunter looked unsure, as far as could be seen with his face pressed into the dirt. His eyes flicked from side to side.
"It would be better for you," continued Aragorn, "honestly."
"All right," said the hunter, his voice rather muffled, "all right. Just let me up."
Exchanging a glance with Aragorn, Greenleaf lifted himself, allowing the hunter up a little. The man took immediate advantage. His fist came up to slam into Greenleaf's face, momentarily stunning the Elf. The hunter grabbed the knife from Greenleaf's hand and pulled himself up as Aragorn approached, knife in hand.
"Get back!" the hunter ordered, dragging the Elf up with him.
Greenleaf, blinking to clear his eyes of the sparkly white lights, registered with annoyance that his own knife was being held dangerously close to his throat. What was it with people, he wondered irritably, and using his own weapons against him? He squinted angrily, seeing Aragorn reluctant to attack while the hunter held the Elf. Greenleaf still held Gimli's axe in his left hand. He was far from helpless.
He grabbed the man's knife hand with his right hand, applying pressure in just the right places to make him drop the knife. He easily broke away from the man's grip, and turned to slam him against a dead, standing tree. He held the hunter by the neck so he was on his toes. Then he brought the Dwarven axe up fast to embed into the tree trunk between the man's legs. The hunter went pale and gave a little squeak. That axe was too close to certain vital parts of his anatomy to be comfortable.
"Now," said Greenleaf, "I asked you a question. Questions require answers." His tone was cold.
Aragorn picked up Greenleaf's knife from the ground and walked over. He handed it to Greenleaf. The Elf took it without a word, his eyes never leaving the hunter's. It was a staring match that Greenleaf was definitely winning.
"You won't do anything to me," the man managed to say, his lip trembling a little, "you won't."
"What makes you so certain?" asked Greenleaf calmly.
"You're an Elf," said the man, "you don't do that sort of thing."
"Don't we?" responded Greenleaf. "I suppose you're an expert on Elves, are you?"
His right hand still grasped the hunter's neck while his knife sat comfortably in his left. The axe was stuck firmly in the tree trunk. The hunter had no conceivable method of escape and he knew it only too well. His gaze darted from side to side, trying to avoid the stare of the Elf who held him pinned. He gave no answer.
"I don't like being shot at," Greenleaf went on, "it tends to put me in a bad mood. And that tends to be bad for the shooter, understand? Why did you shoot at me?"
"It would be a good idea to answer," said Aragorn, when the man remained silent, "I'm telling you this from the goodness of my heart. Man to man, as it were."
"Well, could you ask your friend to let go of me?" asked the hunter. "So we can speak properly, man to man."
"I don't think so," said Greenleaf. "I don't trust you."
"You haven't exactly endeared yourself to us," added Aragorn, "first you shoot at him then you try to escape. Not the best of starts, is it?"
"Then I'm saying nothing."
Greenleaf smiled, leaning forward to hold his face directly before the man's. "I was hoping you'd say that," he said. His knife came up to rest against the man's cheek. "You see, there's a lot of things I can do to persuade you to talk without killing you outright." He was aware that he sounded like Saruman, but pushed the thought away. "Would you like to find out just what I can do?"
Aragorn would have laughed at the statement at any other time, but something in the Elf's voice made him realise that he was deadly serious.
The hunter realised this too. "I received a note," he said, "and some gold. More gold than I'd get in a year. All I had to do was kill you."
"Where is this note?" asked Greenleaf.
"I-In the pouch on my belt," answered the man.
Greenleaf nodded for Aragorn to reach into the pouch and retrieve the note. Aragorn pulled out the paper. It read as follows:
"YOUR TARGET IS THE ELF WITH THE GOLDEN HAIR. HE HAS A SCAR DOWN HIS RIGHT CHEEK. HE WILL BE ON A PICNIC IN THE WOODS AT LUNCHTIME. YOU MAY HAVE TO KILL ANY WITNESSES."
He read it out loud. Greenleaf listened, his gaze never leaving the hunter's as he did. His eyes narrowed at the terseness of the note, irritated by not surprised that it was unsigned.
"Is that all?" he asked.
"That's all, I swear it!" cried the hunter.
"Good," said Greenleaf, releasing him, "now be off and never come back." He turned away.
The hunter, obviously not having learnt his lesson, lunged at the unprotected back of the Elf. Greenleaf had expected this, and span round easily, bringing up his fist. He hit the hunter on the side of the head, knocking him out smartly. The man crumpled to the floor. Greenleaf knelt down beside him, removing all the weapons from the man. Aragorn went over to the tree and tried to pull out the axe. It was stuck fast. He tugged harder but couldn't get it out. Greenleaf walked over and gave Aragorn the hunter's bow, quiver and sword.
"Weakling," he said cheerfully, before proceeding to yank the axe out and taking care to make it look easy.
"I wasn't really trying," protested Aragorn.
"Of course not," said Greenleaf patronisingly. He pushed his knife through his belt. "We'd better go and collect the hamper on our way back, I suppose."
"I don't think he'll come after us," said Aragorn, glancing back at the unconscious hunter as they went off through the trees. "Did you have to scare him quite that much?"
"It was necessary," replied Greenleaf.
Aragorn shrugged. "Well," he said, "you certainly put the fear of Elves into him. He'll probably go all wobbly next time he so much as sees a pointed ear."
"It's his fault," said Greenleaf, "and anyway, I leave diplomacy to others."
Aragorn laughed. They reached the clearing where the blanket and hamper were, laid out exactly as they had been when they left. One of the hunter's arrows had gone straight into the ground where Greenleaf had been sitting, pinning the blanket down. The Elf looked at it for a moment then pulled it out. He examined the point.
"At least he doesn't poison his arrows," he said, "otherwise I would have to have gone back and kicked him even harder."
Aragorn looked up from where he was replacing the food in the hamper. "Why?" he asked.
"I have no respect for anyone who stoops to poison," answered Greenleaf, "it's what orcs do, for starters. Either you can kill outright with an arrow or you can't. Poison's an underhand method, dirty. It makes any fool capable of murder."
"That's true enough," said Aragorn. "I have to say, I always thought that poison was a woman's weapon." He stood, taking one edge of the blanket in his hands.
Greenleaf stood also, taking the other side. "It is," he replied. They began folding the cloth. "Usually because a woman's hands aren't suited to more physical acts of murder, like strangulation. With poison it doesn't matter who's killing whom. Strength has nothing to do with it. It's cold- blooded though, premeditated and considered."
Aragorn shuddered a little. "Like that spider in your bed. That sounds pretty premeditated to me."
"Not necessarily a woman though. Most of them seem to be petrified of the things."
"Who do you suspect?" asked Aragorn.
"Everyone," said Greenleaf, taking the folded blanket from the man and laying it in the hamper, "except maybe our dear Elliane. The note did say about killing witnesses."
"But she did know about the picnic. Not many people would have done." Aragorn placed the hunter's confiscated weapons on top of the blanket.
"They could have heard it from the kitchen staff," said Greenleaf. He put Gimli's axe in the hamper and shut the lid. "Or overheard us last night."
"Which would have given them enough time to write the note and get it to that hunter." Aragorn frowned. "What do you reckon about that note? Can we work anything out from it?"
"Maybe," said Greenleaf, taking one side of the hamper, "come on, grab the other end. Ready? Now, lift." They picked up the hamper between them. "If we –up a little on your end, thanks- if we take it to Lord Elrond when we get back he might be able to make something of it."
"A paper hat, perhaps," said Aragorn. "Sorry, bad joke. Do go on."
"The writer was quite clever," said Greenleaf, going on, "in writing all on capital letters. It makes the writing that bit harder to recognise, but not impossible. It should give us something to work with at least."
"We'd better catch this person. Soon it's not going to be safe to be with you, or anywhere hear you." Aragorn paused. "If it ever was in the first place."
Greenleaf, without a free hand to use, settled for pushing the hamper into Aragorn's back in retaliation. "Miserable human," he said.
"Seriously though," said Aragorn, "it's definite now that somebody is after you, isn't it? The spider could have been a coincidence, but this isn't. Someone really wants you dead."
"I've had that before," said Greenleaf in a light tone. "If I had a penny for every time someone's tried to kill me, well, I'd be able to give up work and live a life of luxury."
"But you wouldn't," observed Aragorn, "else you would have gone off long ago. You don't need the money and luxury would bore you."
"It's all right in small doses."
"In between large doses of almost getting killed, right?"
Greenleaf only smiled. "We're back," he announced, seeing the buildings of Rivendell ahead.
"And is that Gimli hurrying this way?" asked Aragorn.
"Yes," said Greenleaf. "Do you think he's a bit irritated that we sent him off with the women?"
"I expect so."
"Well?" asked Gimli brusquely as he met them.
"Someone trying to kill me," answered Greenleaf, "he's changed his mind now though."
"And where's my axe? You haven't lost it or anything, have you?"
"In here," said Greenleaf, nodding at the hamper, "and I didn't even get blood all over it."
"Though he did stick it into a tree," added Aragorn cheerfully.
"It was a dead tree," responded Greenleaf, glaring at the man acidly.
They reached the main building of Rivendell and went in. It was cool and quiet inside. All the occupants seemed to be out, leaving the halls empty.
"You take care of the hamper," Greenleaf told the other two. "Aragorn, could I have that note? I need to go and see Lord Elrond." He took the piece of paper from the man and walked down the corridor. The door to Elrond's study was shut, but Greenleaf was sure he was inside. He knocked firmly, a brief tattoo on the wood. There was silence for a moment.
"Enter," came the voice from within. It sounded a little surprised.
Greenleaf smiled and wondered what the likelihood of Elrond having been asleep previously was. He pushed open the door and went in. Elrond sat at his desk, completely unruffled. He raised an eyebrow at Greenleaf.
"Legolas?" he said. "I thought you were out on a picnic."
"We were," began Greenleaf, but was interrupted before he could continue.
"I needed to speak with you anyway," said Elrond. He folded his hands on the desk before him. "I have been speaking to G about you. She feels that as you seem to be fully recovered that you should return to Lothlórien as soon as possible."
"I see," said Greenleaf, "I did rather expect something like this. But..."
"Oh, Gimli may accompany you if he wishes. G also said that she hoped to get her secretary back soon."
"You'll have to prise her away from Aragorn," said Greenleaf, grinning.
"I did realise that would be the case," said Elrond stiffly. "With you, however, there is no such complication."
"Not of that nature, thank goodness." Greenleaf offered a sardonic smile. "Only the slight complication of someone trying to kill me. That's the reason why we're back early."
"What happened?" asked Elrond, suddenly more attentive.
Greenleaf told him, omitting only the bit where the man had grabbed him. It wasn't quite dignified. Elrond sat back in his chair, his expression serious as he listened. When Greenleaf finished his tale the Elf Lord looked at him searchingly, frowning.
"Do you have the note?" he asked.
Greenleaf handed it over for examination. Elrond read it through, his mouth drawn in a tight line. He turned it over in his hands before returning his gaze to Greenleaf.
"It may be possible," he said, "to trace the writer of this note by their writing."
"That's what I thought," said Greenleaf, "I'm fairly certain they must be one of the guests here."
Elrond smiled. "Then you may be in luck. Each guest has to sign in when they arrive. I'll have the book sent up to your room, and you can go through it and compare the writing with the note."
He handed the paper back to Greenleaf, who took it and tucked it in his tunic. Elrond looked at him carefully.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"I'm sorry?"
"Are you all right?" Elrond repeated his question. "Legolas, someone just tried to kill you. Aren't you at least a bit disturbed?"
"Why should I be?" asked Greenleaf.
Elrond was a little taken aback. "Surely such an incident would worry you? Other people find such a brush with death to be, at the least, a different experience."
Greenleaf smiled cheerfully. "I intend to ensure that it doesn't happen again," he said, "I don't have time to get 'disturbed'. Besides," and here his eyes glinted, "I feel more alive now than I have for weeks."
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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: As I am going away on an orchestra course for about two weeks from tomorrow, chapter five will not be posted next week. Apologies. I'm going to be having lots of fun elsewhere. Hopefully this will keep you going. I've been rather busy in the last week, playing for a production of 'Les Miserables', so not much else to say. If I hadn't been punning on Bond titles, the chapter would have been called 'If You Go Down To The Woods Today'.
Review replies: Jellyman: wow, rather a lot of reviews there. Kept me happy. I'm glad you like the series. I was quite proud of having the pair go off round Middle-earth; it seemed both Tolkienish and Bondian.
Idlewild: What does 'mea culpa' mean? (shows own ignorance.) You noticed my little trail of Bond-inspired baddies then. I'm running out of Tolkien ones. And you want more attempts on his life? Your wish is my command.
Nemo Returning: You are far too good at irritating puns. I'm rubbish at poker really. I made it all up.
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Chapter 4. The Elf With The Golden Hair
The picnic took place in the woods to the west of Rivendell, where the light fell green through the leaves of the trees. It was a glorious day, with bright sunshine and clear blue skies. Despite that, it was cool beneath the trees, pleasantly so. They spread a green blanket on the grass to sit on. Elliane flopped onto it.
"Phew!" she exclaimed. "Isn't it a hot day?"
It wasn't precisely clear why she was so hot. As far as was decent she wore as little material as possible, though her dress seemed overly complicated. Arwen sat down with much more elegance. She wore a simple white dress, confident that anything looked good on an Elf.
Greenleaf and Aragorn had carried the picnic hamper between them, and they set it down beside the blanket. Inside it was a testament to the skills of Rivendell's cooks. Bread, cheese, ham and eggs were all quickly taken out and set on the blanket. Many varieties of cake soon followed. Greenleaf, taking out the last one, felt something lumpy and hard beneath the cloth at the bottom. Checking that no one was looking, he lifted the corner and had a peek. It was Gimli's axe, tucked among the folds. Greenleaf smirked a little. The Dwarf must have out it in after he had hidden his knife there.
"Oh, doesn't it all look wonderful!" said Elliane. She seemed to be at her most enthusiastic.
"That's one thing I'll say about Elf-homes," said Gimli, "they do the best food."
"I supervised it personally," out in Arwen, unfolding a napkin delicately on her lap.
"And you've done so perfectly," said Aragorn, settling beside her. His hand touched hers briefly and they shared a smile. "I can't wait to get started on it."
"It's not that long since you had breakfast," chastised Greenleaf lightly, "you did get up rather late."
"Long after the rest of us," added Gimli.
"Well," retorted Aragorn, "not all of us have Elven endurance. Just because you can spend all night drinking and get up next morning fresh as a daisy. Particularly considering that stuff you drink."
"Never mind," said Greenleaf, "I'm sure you weren't the last one up. I wonder who was." It was an open ended comment.
"That would probably have been Lord Bloaf," said Elliane, "he's hardly ever at breakfast. He wasn't today."
"Maybe he has it in bed," suggested Greenleaf.
"Not that I know of," replied Elliane.
Arwen had to stuff a sandwich in her mouth to stop from giggling. When Elliane wasn't paying attention she Arwen sent Greenleaf a sharp look. That was mean, her look said, leading her on like that. Greenleaf merely smiled back innocently. He wasn't implying anything; he was letting Elliane do it herself. She was the sort of woman he generally despised, but found fascinating all the same. She was guaranteed to say something that should by rights embarrass her hugely but manage to say it without realising. It was quite an entertainment.
"There's a lot of people staying here," said Greenleaf, "I'm sure there's not usually this many."
"No, there aren't," said Aragorn, "we are remarkably full at the moment. I don't really know why."
"Oh, word's been getting around about the halls here," replied Elliane.
"Has it?" asked Arwen.
"Yes," replied Elliane, "some of Minas Tirith's upper crust came last year and they found it rather splendid. Good location, good gambling, and charming people. And, well, when they recommend something then everyone's got to be involved."
"That's good," said Arwen distantly, "good to know we're popular."
"Well, it's got so much more style here," continued Elliane, "compared with the human run establishments. And people are curious about Elves."
"Are they?" asked Greenleaf. "I can't think why."
"Oh, you know," said Aragorn with a grin, "they're odd sorts of folk, to be sure. Can't figure them out at all."
Arwen, sitting next to him, gave him a playful cuff round the head.
"It's the females that are the worst," added Aragorn, ducking.
"They aren't as hard to understand as Dwarves," said Greenleaf, winking at Gimli, "why any race would choose to live underground is completely beyond me."
"It's better than talking to trees," retorted Gimli.
"Oh, do you really talk to trees?" asked Elliane, quite sincerely. "I had heard that in a rumour but didn't believe it. Is it true?"
"I..." Greenleaf began.
"Come on, Legolas, answer the lady," said Gimli, looking thoroughly happy.
"Yes, do go on," said Aragorn, "I'm all ears."
"It's not so much talking to them," explained Greenleaf, "as much as listening to them. They all have voices, you know, and songs of their own. The Elves woke them, a long time ago."
"It's mostly just Wood-elves," put in Arwen, "and it's not so much talking to them as singing is what he means."
"Snooty Noldor," muttered Greenleaf.
"That's amazing!" exclaimed Elliane. "What are they saying now?"
"Now? I don't know." Greenleaf glanced around, looking at the trees and listening to them. The trees here were quiet and restful for the most part, but they seemed eager to speak to him. He listened happily to their woody chorus, but soon lost his cheer on hearing what they said.
He dived to the left suddenly. A long wooden arrow thunked into the ground where he had been sitting and stuck there quivering. Greenleaf rolled to a crouch, seeing as he did that the others were frozen, transfixed by the sight of the arrow.
"Move!" he yelled, dodging another arrow. It brushed his hair as it whistled past.
He grabbed one of Gimli's rock cakes from the blanket. It was quite solid (Greenleaf privately suspected it to be a Dwarvish preference to eat rock- like things) and had enough weight to it. He hurled it at where the shots had come from. It hit something, and then there was the sound of a person fleeing clumsily.
"What's going on?" asked Elliane, an image of a damsel in distress.
Greenleaf didn't answer. "Gimli," he ordered, "escort the ladies back. Leave the hamper for now. Ar- Estel, come with me."
"But..." protested Gimli.
"Don't argue," said Greenleaf, "go."
He reached into the hamper and pulled out Gimli's axe and his own knife. Aragorn raised an eyebrow momentarily before pulling a knife from his own boot. They both took off into the trees, running fast. Gimli glared after them for a moment. Why, he asked silently, leave me with the wenches?
Greenleaf ran ahead, long legs covering the distance easily. Aragorn came along not far behind. Their prey fled before them, breaking many branches as he did. He was heading for the edge of the woods, where he probably had a horse. Greenleaf quickened his pace, planning on catching the man before he got that far. It obviously was a man ahead, a hunter by the look of him. He crashed through the foliage, surprisingly fast, but Greenleaf was gaining steadily. He ducked a wildly swinging branch and hurried on.
The hunter's back was visible ahead when Greenleaf decided on a new tactic. Gripping a tree limb above his head he swung upwards, leaping lightly up into the branches. Aragorn carried on below, unsurprised as the Elf vanished upwards. Greenleaf made his way through the trees by a mixture of running, jumping and swinging. His feet landed surely on each branch, just as his hands kept their hold firmly. He caught up with the hunter easily. They ran in parallel for a short while before Greenleaf leapt down.
He landed on the hunter with a satisfyingly solid thump. Greenleaf wrapped his legs round the man's body as they both fell to the ground. They struggled, but it was very one-sided. Aragorn arrived as Greenleaf pinned the hunter to the forest floor face down.
"Mind telling us what that was all about?" asked Greenleaf, quite politely.
The man said nothing. Greenleaf sighed and placed the tip of his knife on the ground beside the man's face.
"I can get a little impatient," he warned.
"He can," said Aragorn, "the results aren't pretty, trust me."
The hunter looked unsure, as far as could be seen with his face pressed into the dirt. His eyes flicked from side to side.
"It would be better for you," continued Aragorn, "honestly."
"All right," said the hunter, his voice rather muffled, "all right. Just let me up."
Exchanging a glance with Aragorn, Greenleaf lifted himself, allowing the hunter up a little. The man took immediate advantage. His fist came up to slam into Greenleaf's face, momentarily stunning the Elf. The hunter grabbed the knife from Greenleaf's hand and pulled himself up as Aragorn approached, knife in hand.
"Get back!" the hunter ordered, dragging the Elf up with him.
Greenleaf, blinking to clear his eyes of the sparkly white lights, registered with annoyance that his own knife was being held dangerously close to his throat. What was it with people, he wondered irritably, and using his own weapons against him? He squinted angrily, seeing Aragorn reluctant to attack while the hunter held the Elf. Greenleaf still held Gimli's axe in his left hand. He was far from helpless.
He grabbed the man's knife hand with his right hand, applying pressure in just the right places to make him drop the knife. He easily broke away from the man's grip, and turned to slam him against a dead, standing tree. He held the hunter by the neck so he was on his toes. Then he brought the Dwarven axe up fast to embed into the tree trunk between the man's legs. The hunter went pale and gave a little squeak. That axe was too close to certain vital parts of his anatomy to be comfortable.
"Now," said Greenleaf, "I asked you a question. Questions require answers." His tone was cold.
Aragorn picked up Greenleaf's knife from the ground and walked over. He handed it to Greenleaf. The Elf took it without a word, his eyes never leaving the hunter's. It was a staring match that Greenleaf was definitely winning.
"You won't do anything to me," the man managed to say, his lip trembling a little, "you won't."
"What makes you so certain?" asked Greenleaf calmly.
"You're an Elf," said the man, "you don't do that sort of thing."
"Don't we?" responded Greenleaf. "I suppose you're an expert on Elves, are you?"
His right hand still grasped the hunter's neck while his knife sat comfortably in his left. The axe was stuck firmly in the tree trunk. The hunter had no conceivable method of escape and he knew it only too well. His gaze darted from side to side, trying to avoid the stare of the Elf who held him pinned. He gave no answer.
"I don't like being shot at," Greenleaf went on, "it tends to put me in a bad mood. And that tends to be bad for the shooter, understand? Why did you shoot at me?"
"It would be a good idea to answer," said Aragorn, when the man remained silent, "I'm telling you this from the goodness of my heart. Man to man, as it were."
"Well, could you ask your friend to let go of me?" asked the hunter. "So we can speak properly, man to man."
"I don't think so," said Greenleaf. "I don't trust you."
"You haven't exactly endeared yourself to us," added Aragorn, "first you shoot at him then you try to escape. Not the best of starts, is it?"
"Then I'm saying nothing."
Greenleaf smiled, leaning forward to hold his face directly before the man's. "I was hoping you'd say that," he said. His knife came up to rest against the man's cheek. "You see, there's a lot of things I can do to persuade you to talk without killing you outright." He was aware that he sounded like Saruman, but pushed the thought away. "Would you like to find out just what I can do?"
Aragorn would have laughed at the statement at any other time, but something in the Elf's voice made him realise that he was deadly serious.
The hunter realised this too. "I received a note," he said, "and some gold. More gold than I'd get in a year. All I had to do was kill you."
"Where is this note?" asked Greenleaf.
"I-In the pouch on my belt," answered the man.
Greenleaf nodded for Aragorn to reach into the pouch and retrieve the note. Aragorn pulled out the paper. It read as follows:
"YOUR TARGET IS THE ELF WITH THE GOLDEN HAIR. HE HAS A SCAR DOWN HIS RIGHT CHEEK. HE WILL BE ON A PICNIC IN THE WOODS AT LUNCHTIME. YOU MAY HAVE TO KILL ANY WITNESSES."
He read it out loud. Greenleaf listened, his gaze never leaving the hunter's as he did. His eyes narrowed at the terseness of the note, irritated by not surprised that it was unsigned.
"Is that all?" he asked.
"That's all, I swear it!" cried the hunter.
"Good," said Greenleaf, releasing him, "now be off and never come back." He turned away.
The hunter, obviously not having learnt his lesson, lunged at the unprotected back of the Elf. Greenleaf had expected this, and span round easily, bringing up his fist. He hit the hunter on the side of the head, knocking him out smartly. The man crumpled to the floor. Greenleaf knelt down beside him, removing all the weapons from the man. Aragorn went over to the tree and tried to pull out the axe. It was stuck fast. He tugged harder but couldn't get it out. Greenleaf walked over and gave Aragorn the hunter's bow, quiver and sword.
"Weakling," he said cheerfully, before proceeding to yank the axe out and taking care to make it look easy.
"I wasn't really trying," protested Aragorn.
"Of course not," said Greenleaf patronisingly. He pushed his knife through his belt. "We'd better go and collect the hamper on our way back, I suppose."
"I don't think he'll come after us," said Aragorn, glancing back at the unconscious hunter as they went off through the trees. "Did you have to scare him quite that much?"
"It was necessary," replied Greenleaf.
Aragorn shrugged. "Well," he said, "you certainly put the fear of Elves into him. He'll probably go all wobbly next time he so much as sees a pointed ear."
"It's his fault," said Greenleaf, "and anyway, I leave diplomacy to others."
Aragorn laughed. They reached the clearing where the blanket and hamper were, laid out exactly as they had been when they left. One of the hunter's arrows had gone straight into the ground where Greenleaf had been sitting, pinning the blanket down. The Elf looked at it for a moment then pulled it out. He examined the point.
"At least he doesn't poison his arrows," he said, "otherwise I would have to have gone back and kicked him even harder."
Aragorn looked up from where he was replacing the food in the hamper. "Why?" he asked.
"I have no respect for anyone who stoops to poison," answered Greenleaf, "it's what orcs do, for starters. Either you can kill outright with an arrow or you can't. Poison's an underhand method, dirty. It makes any fool capable of murder."
"That's true enough," said Aragorn. "I have to say, I always thought that poison was a woman's weapon." He stood, taking one edge of the blanket in his hands.
Greenleaf stood also, taking the other side. "It is," he replied. They began folding the cloth. "Usually because a woman's hands aren't suited to more physical acts of murder, like strangulation. With poison it doesn't matter who's killing whom. Strength has nothing to do with it. It's cold- blooded though, premeditated and considered."
Aragorn shuddered a little. "Like that spider in your bed. That sounds pretty premeditated to me."
"Not necessarily a woman though. Most of them seem to be petrified of the things."
"Who do you suspect?" asked Aragorn.
"Everyone," said Greenleaf, taking the folded blanket from the man and laying it in the hamper, "except maybe our dear Elliane. The note did say about killing witnesses."
"But she did know about the picnic. Not many people would have done." Aragorn placed the hunter's confiscated weapons on top of the blanket.
"They could have heard it from the kitchen staff," said Greenleaf. He put Gimli's axe in the hamper and shut the lid. "Or overheard us last night."
"Which would have given them enough time to write the note and get it to that hunter." Aragorn frowned. "What do you reckon about that note? Can we work anything out from it?"
"Maybe," said Greenleaf, taking one side of the hamper, "come on, grab the other end. Ready? Now, lift." They picked up the hamper between them. "If we –up a little on your end, thanks- if we take it to Lord Elrond when we get back he might be able to make something of it."
"A paper hat, perhaps," said Aragorn. "Sorry, bad joke. Do go on."
"The writer was quite clever," said Greenleaf, going on, "in writing all on capital letters. It makes the writing that bit harder to recognise, but not impossible. It should give us something to work with at least."
"We'd better catch this person. Soon it's not going to be safe to be with you, or anywhere hear you." Aragorn paused. "If it ever was in the first place."
Greenleaf, without a free hand to use, settled for pushing the hamper into Aragorn's back in retaliation. "Miserable human," he said.
"Seriously though," said Aragorn, "it's definite now that somebody is after you, isn't it? The spider could have been a coincidence, but this isn't. Someone really wants you dead."
"I've had that before," said Greenleaf in a light tone. "If I had a penny for every time someone's tried to kill me, well, I'd be able to give up work and live a life of luxury."
"But you wouldn't," observed Aragorn, "else you would have gone off long ago. You don't need the money and luxury would bore you."
"It's all right in small doses."
"In between large doses of almost getting killed, right?"
Greenleaf only smiled. "We're back," he announced, seeing the buildings of Rivendell ahead.
"And is that Gimli hurrying this way?" asked Aragorn.
"Yes," said Greenleaf. "Do you think he's a bit irritated that we sent him off with the women?"
"I expect so."
"Well?" asked Gimli brusquely as he met them.
"Someone trying to kill me," answered Greenleaf, "he's changed his mind now though."
"And where's my axe? You haven't lost it or anything, have you?"
"In here," said Greenleaf, nodding at the hamper, "and I didn't even get blood all over it."
"Though he did stick it into a tree," added Aragorn cheerfully.
"It was a dead tree," responded Greenleaf, glaring at the man acidly.
They reached the main building of Rivendell and went in. It was cool and quiet inside. All the occupants seemed to be out, leaving the halls empty.
"You take care of the hamper," Greenleaf told the other two. "Aragorn, could I have that note? I need to go and see Lord Elrond." He took the piece of paper from the man and walked down the corridor. The door to Elrond's study was shut, but Greenleaf was sure he was inside. He knocked firmly, a brief tattoo on the wood. There was silence for a moment.
"Enter," came the voice from within. It sounded a little surprised.
Greenleaf smiled and wondered what the likelihood of Elrond having been asleep previously was. He pushed open the door and went in. Elrond sat at his desk, completely unruffled. He raised an eyebrow at Greenleaf.
"Legolas?" he said. "I thought you were out on a picnic."
"We were," began Greenleaf, but was interrupted before he could continue.
"I needed to speak with you anyway," said Elrond. He folded his hands on the desk before him. "I have been speaking to G about you. She feels that as you seem to be fully recovered that you should return to Lothlórien as soon as possible."
"I see," said Greenleaf, "I did rather expect something like this. But..."
"Oh, Gimli may accompany you if he wishes. G also said that she hoped to get her secretary back soon."
"You'll have to prise her away from Aragorn," said Greenleaf, grinning.
"I did realise that would be the case," said Elrond stiffly. "With you, however, there is no such complication."
"Not of that nature, thank goodness." Greenleaf offered a sardonic smile. "Only the slight complication of someone trying to kill me. That's the reason why we're back early."
"What happened?" asked Elrond, suddenly more attentive.
Greenleaf told him, omitting only the bit where the man had grabbed him. It wasn't quite dignified. Elrond sat back in his chair, his expression serious as he listened. When Greenleaf finished his tale the Elf Lord looked at him searchingly, frowning.
"Do you have the note?" he asked.
Greenleaf handed it over for examination. Elrond read it through, his mouth drawn in a tight line. He turned it over in his hands before returning his gaze to Greenleaf.
"It may be possible," he said, "to trace the writer of this note by their writing."
"That's what I thought," said Greenleaf, "I'm fairly certain they must be one of the guests here."
Elrond smiled. "Then you may be in luck. Each guest has to sign in when they arrive. I'll have the book sent up to your room, and you can go through it and compare the writing with the note."
He handed the paper back to Greenleaf, who took it and tucked it in his tunic. Elrond looked at him carefully.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"I'm sorry?"
"Are you all right?" Elrond repeated his question. "Legolas, someone just tried to kill you. Aren't you at least a bit disturbed?"
"Why should I be?" asked Greenleaf.
Elrond was a little taken aback. "Surely such an incident would worry you? Other people find such a brush with death to be, at the least, a different experience."
Greenleaf smiled cheerfully. "I intend to ensure that it doesn't happen again," he said, "I don't have time to get 'disturbed'. Besides," and here his eyes glinted, "I feel more alive now than I have for weeks."
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