Author: Mirrordance

Title: For Every Evil

Summary: Legolas is a policeman in 2004. His colleagues start to wonder why the 10-yr veteran doesn't age & more trouble ahead after he runs across the Fellowship & some friends in modern incarnations, resurrected along with a new world-threatening peril.

19: Interpol

Imladris,

Vienna, Austria

Mid-2004

Three nights of work and arrangements later, Legolas stood at the door beside Halvor, Adrian, Anatalia, Emmett and Eunice, the lot of them scowling irrepressibly at the departing group.

"Don't be a brat, my prince," Elladan laughed at the Mirkwood elf, "No trouble is to happen to us if you are here and we are elsewhere."

Legolas looked at Anatalia ironically. "We are going to have an affair. He is going to regret this."

She laughed. "Bye-bye, Elladan."

The Rivendell elf pressed a very territorial kiss upon her cheek and winked at her before walking away.

"Oh he's so certain," Legolas said, looking after him as he walked off, "He's just so pompous…"

"You know you cannot go, Legolas," Gandalf said to the Mirkwood elf soothingly, "Our cause does not need attention from the public, as in the case of Anatalia, Eomer and Eowyn, much as we do not need any attention from your government. And you do not need the attention either."

"I'm stuck here with the troublemakers," Legolas said to the Istari, "I'm more anxious for myself than that I could not go to watch over you."

It was a mostly a lie, but then the words escaped his mouth and he got around to thinking that indeed, with the exception of Halvor and Emmett, he managed to band with a bunch of rogues; the Estel incarnate who had some potential for mischief as long as that blood ran in his veins, the spoiled divorcee who actually first found him, the only member of the Fellowship who perished in the War of the Ring, and a woman who pretended to be a man to go to war…

Gandalf snickered at him. "Perhaps some other excursion, eh? This one in particular, after all, promises to be a very memorable affair. Stay here, and do not deem your time wasted. Read the books. We may have missed something. Keep each other out of trouble."

Legolas took an exasperated breath, and nodded. "Go, go. Brad's to come down at any moment."

Miserably, he watched the group comprised of Gandalf, Elladan, Elrohir and Faramir as they drove away. He glanced at Halvor, who was looking toward him worriedly.

'The sight of those retreating backs always strike me with fear,' the manservant admitted in his native tongue.

'They will return, my friend,' Legolas assured him, 'And we can both be sick of their untenable company again.'

Suddenly, storming down the intricate steps of the main stairway, Brad appeared, bearing his packed bags and a weird, eccentric-looking candlestick. "Elrohir?" he called, "Is this what you were looking for?"
Legolas looked up at him with a barely-repressed grin. "Brad."
"Where's everybody else?" he asked, eyes raking through the remnants of the group.

"They left us," Eowyn said simply.

The idea was partly Legolas', although the brilliance of making Brad look for something impossibly particular within Imladris was Elrohir's brainchild. Boromir, after all, died the last time he was plunged in this situation. The only death in the Fellowship. The fact was always a regret, and the loss created a world of possibilities in the unlikely case of a second chance – if I had been there sooner, if I did this rather than that, if I can do it over, etc., etc., etc. But a second chance they did find, and any way they could take to steer him away from trouble was one they would grab.

"What?" Brad asked flatly.

Even if he won't be very pleased…

"We're assigned to do research," Legolas lied, "Come on, we're supposed to be working."
The Mirkwood elf left in a huff, walking toward the library. If he acted annoyed first, maybe the adan would be the apologetic one.

" " "

Brad was annoyed, but he kept his mouth shut. He felt like the victim caught in the midst of some conspiracy. It was like walking around in the dark, knowing you were being followed but unsure of whom, or why. He did not bother Leland Greene with the questions that would not have been answered. Instead, he took a different way from the library where all the rest of the company headed, and took a walk about the house.

He loved Imladris for its sense of history. Now these… these were walls that ached for a voice. If only they could talk… they'd have such wondrous tales to tell.

Curiously, it was the House that spoke to him of the truth of the situation; more than the self-proclaimed elves, more than his once-sensible younger brother. It was this House, with its austere, overwhelming and almost-stifling air of history. It was a silence that spoke volumes of truth.

He passed by the intricate archways, the indulgent halls, the storytelling paintings with heroes and swords and demons felled. He did not know what they mean. But that was all right; he was comfortable with the House and its quiet ghosts and restless stories. He felt as if… he belonged somehow. Or if not belonged, then that at least he was welcome.

He came upon the beautiful statue of a woman bearing a tray, and reverently held before him a beautiful sword. He ached to touch it, his hand almost felt warm with the rawness of his desire. He wondered if it was still sharp, and hypothesized that it likely was, because it was immaculately well-kept. He wondered how much it weighed, who once owned it, why it held such a place of awe and respect. Why it called… He stared at the sword, and he could have sworn it was staring right back.

" " "

"Where's Brad?" Legolas asked to no one in particular, looking up from his readings.

"He is walking around, I believe," Eowyn replied, "I think he may be irked at you."

Legolas smirked a little, did not bother to deny it.

"So he died," Emmett said, "That other time before."

"Yes," Legolas replied quietly, looking about him, as if he feared Brad would appear at any second, even as his mind was telling him his elven senses would be made aware if this were so.

"You did not tell him," Emmett continued.

"No," replied Legolas, "we did not."

Emmett frowned in thought. "I still do not believe in all of this. But since you do…" he paused, trying to gather his thoughts, "What I mean to say is, if you think all of here and now will unfold just as it did there and then, you may want to keep in mind that those who do not know their history are bound to repeat it." He added, more uncertainly, "Or so they say."

"I will keep that in mind," Legolas murmured, trying to appear distracted by looking back at his work. The man's ideas were worth some serious thought. It's just that… there was a lot of things that were very hard to explain about Boromir. His fall. His desires. His greatness and heroism despite it all. Brad wouldn't understand, not in just hearing. And perhaps… perhaps Legolas was not ready to say, just as he was never really one to speak of such things.

A cell phone rang, breaking him from his reverie. Emmett, Eowyn, Anatalia, Adrian and himself scrambled for their mobiles.

"It's mine," Legolas declared, rising from his seat in the library and commandeering a corner. "Greene."

"Leland, I think someone's after you," Montes said without any greeting or introduction.

The Mirkwood elf, unsurprised over a fact he was well-aware of, sighed wearily. "I've been dreading hearing your voice lately, Rafe. Do you never call just because you miss me—"

"Be serious, Greene," his partner barked, "I don't know what's happening, but I'm in the middle of your really trashed apartment right now. A few hours ago, I was standing in your doc's place—and ballistics was there just days ago!—and your two other friends'."

"Was anyone hurt?" Legolas asked urgently. Now this… this he did not expect. Now he was part of a hit-list alongside Aragorn's heir? And someone was ingenious and resourceful enough to have traced him?

"Your door man," Rafe replied, "Some messy business there. Someone tried to beat some answers out of him. He's still alive, though. Lucky, stubborn bastard…"

"Rafe, I'm going to need you to look after a woman," Legolas said immediately, sparing Adrian, who was eyeing him with suspicion, a quick glance, "Rowena Aarons. Someone wants to get to the doctor, Montes, and though they do not involve the women, they might take her just to smoke him out."

"Is this the Mafia?" Montes asked.

"No," Legolas said insistently, "Look in on her, Montes. Please. As soon as you can. Right now if you can. Look out for that family. Go."

"All right, all right," said the other detective, "Hey. Watch your back."

Rafe hung up, and Legolas pocketed his cellphone and looked toward the others in the room who were staring at him expectantly. The Mirkwood elf was just about to open his mouth to inform them of the latest developments when he heard the chimes from the main gate sound. His heart pounded, and his eyes raked the room for Halvor, and, well, a weapon.

The manservant stared at him blankly.

"Do not open the gates," Legolas said.

"What's happening?" Adrian asked.

"Someone traced us to our homes in the U.S.," said Legolas, "I would not be surprised if they managed to find Elladan and Elrohir here in Imladris."

'What to do, my lord?' Halvor asked.

"They wouldn't ring the blasted doorbell if they wanted us dead and captured," Emmett pointed out, to Legolas' embarrassment. Montes' call had jarred him more than he cared to admit, compounded by his worry for a room filled with folk who looked to him for action protection.

"Please go see who it is," Legolas ordered, and the manservant quickly left the room to comply. The main gate had a security camera and a speaker. They should be able to identify the newcomer with ease and from a safe distance..

"And the rest of us?" Anatalia asked.

Legolas' mind raced. "They cannot have you," he said, pointing to Adrian, "And if the man behind this is Saruman and Grima Wormtongue, you must be kept from sight as well," he said of Eowyn and Emmett. He glanced at Anatalia uncertainly. "You we'll keep out of sight… just because I'll be in danger if anything should happen to you. There's not been a kinslaying between the Noldor and the Teleri since ages ago—" she was looking at him blankly, and he clarified, simply saying that Elladan would kill him.

Where could I keep you out of sight, he wondered, although knowing the disastrously honorable company he kept, likely the true question was How do I keep you there?

He almost grinned at his epiphany. Rivendell had its multitude of secret ways, yes, it most definitely did. One in particular was very special. A few hundred years ago, Elrohir called it the 'time out' room, and for good reason… The twins, himself and Estel had made the really rather terrible mistake of going on one of their indoor adventures and discovering the harsh way that not all of Rivendell's secret ways were in the best of shape…

"Up the stairs, third door to your left, look at the painting with the woman pointing to the skies," Legolas told them, "follow her finger to the gilded frame, and press the carved star. It will reveal a secret passage within which you must stay until I come for you. Stay there, do not venture elsewhere as the secret ways are tricky; even I've lost my way times before. Call Brad on his mobile and make sure he follows and tell him to take the service stairs, not the main one."

"And you're just staying here?" Adrian asked him flatly.

"Let's put it this way," said Legolas wryly, "Can you wield a sword? Fire a gun? Get into a really dirty fight? You're not Aragorn, you said so yourself. If you should stay, I'll have to look after you, and we might both just perish here. You will be a liability to me, not to mention the fact that they want something from your line we are yet to discover. Stay alive, my friend. Your duty calls you thus."

"I don't like it," the adan said stubbornly.

"Oh, come on," Eowyn said to him, grasping him by the arm, "Maybe it is just a traveling salesman. The elf is going to be so embarrassed."

"Thank you for the faith," Legolas called after them wryly as they began to head up the stairs.

Halvor jogged back to Legolas. 'It is just one man, my lord,' he reported, 'he says he is an investigator, for Interpol. He wishes to speak with the masters of the house. I told them they are not here, and he insists upon seeing for himself.'

"Interpol?" Legolas asked, brows seriously furrowing at this new potential for trouble. "What in the world did the twins get into?"

'He said that if we do not let him in,' Halvor continued, 'He can have a team return with him at the crack of dawn tomorrow who will happily turn the place inside-out. We must not risk this. The house… the art… the records…'

"I know," Legolas breathed, looking about him at the splendor of Rivendell. "He is alone?"

'Yes, my lord,' replied Halvor.

Legolas chewed at the inside of his mouth. 'I will see him in the receiving hall. If he yields trouble, my friend, you and I can gang up on him, and I'm sure the many grounds of Imladris can accommodate and cleverly conceal one corpse, eh?'

Halvor did not appreciate the humor, but he nodded and scurried off to let the investigator into Imladris. Legolas took the time to grab an ornate letter opener on hand and concealed it on his person, just in case.

" " "

What he did not expect to find was an old ally.

The man wore a clever day suit, although it was a bit the worse for wear, as if its bearer had been in it all through the day and into the night. His eyes, however, were no less sharp than memory allowed Legolas to recall-- no sign of fatigue, or fear, or distress. This was a man who was as sharply outfitted now as when he used to be an elf, long, long ago…

Legolas barely noticed Halvor beside the glorious ex-Lothlorien elf who was regarding him cautiously.

"This is not your house?" 'Haldir' asked of Legolas.

"No," Legolas replied, "I'm sitting it for my friends."

'Haldir' frowned. "And you are?"

"I should be asking you first," Legolas pointed out.

The Interpol agent shrugged in acquiescence, and drew out the wallet that showed his credentials. Easy enough to forge, Legolas supposed, but anyone who bore his dead old friend's face invoked a trust that was immediate.

Horace Harding, Legolas read. You sound like a stuffy detective-novel lead character.

Oh wait. I'm the detective.

Legolas offered the agent his hand. "Detective Leland Greene of the Los Angeles Police Department."

Horace's brows raised. "You're a mighty long way from home. Certainly out of your departmental jurisdiction…"

"I'm on vacation," Legolas replied, "Hardly investigating anything. I… would really love to know what this is about, sir. It really does not bode well, for a man in my profession to be thus linked with folk coming beneath the eagle-eye of the International Police."

"I've been assigned to keep an eye on Fortress Defense Systems," replied Horace, "I managed to intercept a hacker who was stealing files from them. I let the line run long, and he led me to a client—the owners of this house. The hacker is now in my custody. He committed a felony, but of course, I should love to know why there is such interest in Fortress from this end."

"Why would Interpol be investigating Fortress?" Legolas asked.

"I do not consider it your business," Horace replied coolly, looking sidelong at the elf in thought. "You did not deny."

Legolas cringed inwardly. Indeed, he did not. It was so hard not to trust a face that he long had cared for, regretted the loss of. It was so easy to forget that life was different, that they had all changed. That this man's duty was first to his job, and not to an old friend he never even knew he had…

"I was just curious," Legolas said, rather halfheartedly. "Well. The owners are not home. I believe they went… skiing somewhere."
"I wish to ascertain this myself," Horace insisted, looking about the house, "If you don't mind?"

"I do mind," Legolas countered, "It will take us hours. The compound is gigantic."

"I was just trying to be polite," Horace retorted, "You force my hand into demanding for such a tour."

"You're wasting your time," Legolas told him, "The house is all but empty. And if they were here, they could easily give you the run-around."

"Nevertheless," said Horace, "I wish—"

The exchange was cut off when Halvor turned to Legolas with a quick jerk of his chin, exclaiming, 'My lord!'

The perceptive manservant had heard of the sounds from the outside just as Legolas detected them himself.

Intruders, he quickly decided, fingers reaching for the really rather inadequate letter opener concealed in his pocket.

"What are you doing?" Horace exclaimed in indignation, drawing out his small handgun and pointing it Legolas' way.

The Mirkwood elf barely spared it a glance, and he looked about him, eyes darting to and fro, at the stealthy but insistent footsteps that seemed to be enveloping the entire house.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Hey everybody!!!! Thanks for reading and reviewing!!! Watch out for chapter 20!!! :)