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.

28: Disaster

Rome, Italy

Mid-2004

Finn Baggins was a twenty-year-old orphan with penetrating blue eyes. He was going to University, pursuing a degree in Art History and Art Management. Finn Baggins was a scholar, but he worked in a local museum part-time also for extra spending as well as for work experience. He was kind, a bit quiet. A bit of the odd ball in the crowd he was most often with, distant cousins who were known more for mischief than scholarly achievements.

Philip 'Pip' Took was one of these distant relatives. A bit of a clown, a bit reckless, he was always the life of the party. The college coeds seemed to truly enjoy his boyish charm, his easy way about the world. Careless, confident swagger, impish grin, impulsiveness, he was almost Finn's perfect foil.

Mark Brandy was Pip's best friend and a relative too. He was the smartest of them all, perhaps a curious mix of Finn and Pip. He had an IQ reaching up to the skies, but he also had a very, very keen eye for finding mischief that was not merely by virtue of being around Philip.

The tight group was rounded up by Sam Granger, who was Finn's dearest friend. When Finn was orphaned and moved to his uncle Bob Baggins' place up in Oxford, and Sam was the neighbor who took him into the fold. Sam was, after all, Bob Baggins' young lawn mower man, and Bob Baggins, a famous archeologist, was also often away from home.

Such as now, Legolas thought darkly, for they could not get in touch with Bob Baggins either. The flighty scholar was off somewhere his assistant claimed he did not have the right to disclose.

All four of the younger hobbits went to the same school, although Pip surely lived as if he had little else to do other than have fun. He was, however, Legolas deduced, persistently smart in a way, because he always seemed to achieve the grade requirements, even if he was somewhat known for squandering away his time in college.

Legolas pressed at the bridge of his nose. The school address was on the file, their psychological profiles, guidance records, even their grades were on the file Goran found, including home addresses and some relatives and where they lived too. They were theorhetically supposed to be easy to find! And yet they could not be contacted or found, and he was truly beginning to fear for them.

"Hey," Brad said to him, "You've been in front of that thing for hours."

Legolas sighed, almost forcibly tearing his eyes from the screen. "We're missing something. They cannot simply be not there."

"Well it's the summer season," Brad pointed out, "Maybe they all went on vacation or something."
"So did we pull out files, expenses on credit cards, gas cards, anything at all like that?" Legolas asked Goran, who was sonmewhere behind him, scowling to himself as he sat on a long couch across from Harding.

"No trip expenses," Goran replied gruffly.

"Have we checked out ticket reservations, ship's logs, anything at all like that?" Legolas asked, "They may have paid in cash but you can never get far without a paper trail these days."

"You can always fake names in those cases," Goran pointed out, "If they're not where they're supposed to be, we likely got beat to the chase."

Legolas closed his eyes and sighed, resting his chin on his folded arms. He refused to believe that. But he was naturally worried, and he was exhausted, and he had just a great and profound feeling of helplessness plaguing him. He ran his hands over his face. His fingers shook a tad with his illness and fatigue, and the perceptive Brad frowned at the sight with displeasure.

"You should take a break," he said to the detective sternly.

"I can't," Legolas winced, "I have to settle this."

"Sometimes," Harding said coolly from the couch, "Maybe there just isn't anything for you to do but take care of your own problems."

"The prick's right, lad," said Goran, "You will not be helping anyone until you've helped yourself."

"I'm not a prick, dwarf," Harding snapped.

Legolas whipped his head toward Harding, his body protesting the movement with an ache, though he was certainly more occupied with wondering if he heard right…

"Lie down," Brad said to Legolas, cutting through his muddled thoughts, "Sleep. Rest. Don't be a damn brat. Or go think about your own problems, like what you're going to tell your boss."

Legolas winced. "Maybe I'm just delaying that," he said dryly, glancing at Harding intently. The agent looked at him openly, inquiringly, offering no quick answers. The man wouldn't speak unless he felt like it, much like the Lothlorien elf who shared his body, somewhere within. Legolas sighed. He'll push Haldir later. As he was wisely told, maybe there just isn't anything for you to do but take care of your own problems…

His eyes drifted and focused up at the stairs he had to climb just to get back to bed. He was delaying that too, he noted, having to rise and walk a considerable distance in this blasted, uncooperative body…

He released an exasperated breath and pushed his chair away from the desk. He rose to his feet quickly, wanting the task done with. But he really should have given it more thought, because as soon as he carried his own weight, he swayed dangerously where he stood and barely felt Goran rising up to steady him and sling his arm over his broad shoulders just to keep him upright.

Brad was muttering curses as Legolas blinked himself back to the present. "I'm sorry," the elf mumbled, "I just got up too quickly."

"Damn right," Brad snapped, pressing a palm to Legolas' flaming forehead, "You got up too quickly hours ago."

Goran dragged him to the sofa like a sack of potatoes, and Legolas reflected that it was embarrassing and unglamorous. The dwarf was not only taller and broader than him, he was also being very irreverent…

He was flopped down onto the sofa heavily, and truly realized that he was being manhandled when the hacker lifted up his booted feet and planted them on the other end of the couch, effectively forcing him to lie down.

"All better," Goran grunted, looking over at the blasé Harding mischievously, "He's got the couch, I got nowhere else to sleep but away from you."

"I thought you were just being kind," Legolas muttered.

"Well yes," Goran grinned, "But I'm also being very opportunistic."

"Floor," Harding said sternly, "Rug. Take your pick. I'm pretty sure it's clean."

Goran growled at him and settled on the chair Legolas vacated. He really might as well get some work done.

Brad left them awhile and returned from the kitchen with an ice pack he wanted to slap onto the elf's forehead out of annoyance. But he was gentle still, and left again and returned with a blanket he commandeered out of the rooms upstairs.

"Wake me for any developments," Legolas told him, blue eyes boring into his own with fiery determination, "Promise."

"If there's a disaster, Greene," said Brad, patting his arm reassuringly, "Trust me you'd be the first to know."

London, England

Mid-2004

They met their 'new' member at the airport.

Elladan flanked him, perfectly comfortable in the background. The man was, after all, eating up half the world just by walking there. He's not been with Aragorn in so long he's forgotten how overwhelming he could be. The kingly presence was potent, forthright, unhesitant. His strides were wide, his stance mighty. Yet his eyes held a gentle, magnetic kindness and ineffable charm and wisdom too. Adrian Aarons still lived in there somewhere, just as innocent Estel, and hardy Strider, and any other facet of a very complex character Aragorn Son of Arathorn had once used as his skin. He fit well anywhere he went, all that he touched curiously turned to gold— battles and wars, miscellaneous jobs, people too.

He remembered that Imladris day when Adrian Aarons stepped into the room to invoke Aragorn. A determined doctor stepped inside, a King with fiery eyes stepped.

Brother, Aragorn said to him in Elvish.

Tears sprang up to his eyes helplessly. A wondrous reunion to be sure, but the fire in his heart and the gleam to his old, weary soul was reinforced suddenly. It was as true for him as it was to the others it seemed, and he watched Eowyn smile as if the sun was rising before her eyes.

The Shieldmaiden of Rohan knew the very breath their eyes met that Aragorn was at last restored to them. She felt a measure of sadness, for the 'loss' of the Adrian Aarons who feared he wasn't quite enough to the task. But Aragorn was always assuring to her, and they needed all the assurance they could get since the role previously played by Legolas was for now vacant with the elf's injuries.

Aragorn murmured in Elvish to Elrohir and Gandalf as he gave them quick embraces. His eyes were heavier set and a bit lonelier, but calmly determined as always. His strides were broader, his presence more remarkable. He emanated power and wisdom, even in his faded jeans and loose sweatshirt beneath a distressed leather coat. In him the worlds have crashed together, and things ought to move faster now…

"Eowyn," Aragorn greeted her, "How do you fare?"

"Welcome back," she said to him with a smile, "I am fine. How are you, Adrian?"

He smiled a bit, endeared that she would insist upon the more troubled doctor's name. "I am still alive," he said wryly, "I am all of myself all at once, in here."

"That's good," she said quietly, standing aside as Faramir gripped the hand of his King. He fervently wished to bow, but the multitude of folk about the airport would have found it very very strange.

Anatalia engulfed Elladan in her arms and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Hello."

He laughed in surprise, finding the chaste peck and the quiet words a bit of an understatement. "You did not miss me at all!"

She winked at him and twined her fingers about his own. "Come. Let's go look for hobbits, love."

Rome, Italy

Mid-2004

Goran was pacing the room nervously. Oh, he was in such deep trouble. The living room was dimly lit, a soothing, radiant orange dulled to a peaceful quiet. But his heart was racing and he decided he must indeed be going insane.

What do I do, what do I do, what do I do…

He could, he supposed, as he's been wanting to do for quite awhile now, simply sneak away. No one's watching, Harding was gone, and no one's to stop him. He was a clever man, he had a lot of money, he could just vanish off the face of the Earth and never be bothered by elves and wizards and businessmen and Interpol ever again.

But when Harding left him, the agent had a curious look to his eye, as if he knew that there was a kindness to the hacker, a generosity that wouldn't allow him to leave the side of the ailing detective, even if it meant his freedom. Or perhaps the glint in his eye was a dare, or a test.

What do I do, what do I do, what do I do…

He had a brainchild, and all his present problems began with that. Bob Baggins had an ATM card, with Finn as an extension. A curious amount was drawn out, something so exact that it caught his eye. That very same day, Sam Granger drew from his personal savings for the very first time in his frugal life-- the same amount. Pip Took did not have any records of the same amount, although Mark Brandy had drawn twice that amount from his own extension, as if to cover for both of them.

Goran played with the cost in his mind, wondering what it could be, where the money could have gone. He checked out bus routes, calculated cab fares, checked out plane tickets.

And that was when lightning struck. The cost took them all the way from England to Sinop, in Turkey.

The hell?! he thought, for it seemed crazy, so random and preposterous, completely out of this world.

Goran tried coming up with the same cost to other destinations, to no avail. The case was put to rest when he discovered, in passing, that the famous archeologist Bob Baggins was in Turkey as well, the most recent addition to a team of nautical archeologists and historians investigating the Black Sea. Brad and Harding surely bought the idea, and they bought plane tickets too, all this as Legolas was innocently asleep on the couch…

"But it doesn't make any sense!" Goran had exclaimed, "Why would they go over there in such an unplanned manner?"

"We can only deduce that they wanted to keep the trip a secret," Harding said as he hurriedly put his few things together for the trip to Turkey, "Especially if someone was after them."

"Let's not do anything rash," Goran said quickly, hands flailing, trying to slow down time, willing them to stop preparing their things for a trip Legolas was obviously not going to know about until he woke up. "Let's call the others."

Brad glanced at Harding, before nodding at Goran. "Yeah, sounds good. You… ah… you go do that."

Goran's eyes nearly popped out of his sockets, "What?"
"Only two tickets on the next plane flight," Harding said, "I'm a trained agent for Interpol, and he's…" Harding scrambled to rationally explain Brad's place in the quick trip over Goran's, "And he's the one who sweet-talked the ticket lady into squeezing us in the last moment. We have to go. Besides, Greene needs looking after."

"You can't leave us here!" Goran demanded.

"Lower your voice!" Brad urged, "You'll wake Legolas up."

"How do you know I won't leave?" Goran asked Harding, who smiled at him a bit and said nothing. And then Brad and Harding left him there, in Anatalia Craxi's house, with an ailing elf who'd be very pissed at the world when he wakes up. They left him to his own conscience, forcing him to stay. They left him to deal with the inevitable ire of Leland Greene over having been thus abandoned. They left him with having to make the blasted call to the others.

"Oh for god's sake," he muttered, kneeling beside the elf and shaking him awake. "Greene! You'll never believe this."

Oxford, England

Mid-2004

Empty house.

It was the third one they've visited, the flat that Mark Brandy shared with Pip Took near their school. Aragorn was contemplating kicking the door open, to see for himself that it was truly empty. But it was broad daylight, and nowadays such an act brought more trouble than it did in the old days…

His comrades beside him were on their cellphones, trying to reach the hobbits by their cell numbers. They kept getting the computerized voice of a female telling them that the phone was either unattended or out of reach.

In more ways than one, he thought in great frustration.

Emmett pushed him aside, motioning for his younger sister to move toward him. "Pins, pins, Eunice. Fast."

"What?" Aragorn asked, watching as Eunice yielded her slim hair pins to her older brother, who twisted them and began using it to unlock the door. Aragorn watched Emmett work, looking amazed and horrified. "Eomer, where in the world did you learn that?"

"Did you grow up with bodyguards who wouldn't leave you alone?" Emmett replied, tossing Aragorn a quick smile over his shoulder, before twisting at the knob and successfully pushing the door open.

"No," Aragorn replied.

"I didn't think so," Emmett said, smiling triumphantly as he bowed the others inside. The multi-millionaire seemed to find such ridiculous pride in an apparently minor achievement!

Eowyn smirked at him and patted his shoulder as she walked into the house behind Faramir and Aragorn.

"Hello?" the once-King of Gondor and Arnor hollered into the space. Gandalf scowled at the mess of a place; it was so ill-kept it was just simply a waste of good real estate. To top it all off, it was devoid of any Peregrin Took to receive the end of his scolding.

"Empty," Faramir declared.

"Battery's out," Ana added, raising up two cell phones that have been left on the coffee table alongside old chips and empty beer bottles.

"Where the hell are they," Elrohir murmured.

Suddenly, Aragorn's own mobile rang and his brows rose at Leland Greene's number. He answered it with a bit of a smile, saying, Mellon-nin in greeting.

"Aragorn," came the quiet, weary and edged reply of his old friend. "I… Well…" a bit of a heavy sigh, "Welcome back."

Aragorn frowned. "Legolas? What is it?"

Rome, Italy

Mid-2004

Legolas…

Mellon-nin…

The sound of that voice saying those words brought an unwelcome lump upon his throat. Or maybe he was just so frustrated and exhausted that his usually well-placed composure was faltering.

"Welcome back," he said again, trying to find the right words, "But we… we will speak of this later."

"What's the matter?" Aragorn asked, stricken by the tone of the elf's wavering voice.

"The hobbits are in Turkey," Legolas said, "Frodo, Sam, Pippin, Merry and Bilbo are in Sinop, near the Black Sea. They're not where you are. I booked a flight, and we're leaving in three hours to follow them."

"Legolas," Aragorn said, "You're not well yet. Wait for us before you do anything. Have a care for those whom you are with, you cannot protect them as you are—"

"They left ahead of me," Legolas growled, angry, "Brad and Harding, an hour ago, they just caught a flight and the last two seats. They left without me."

"And me!" the hacker beside him exclaimed.

A long silence at the other end of the line.

"Aragorn," Legolas said quickly, nervously, so profoundly disarmed was he by his tiredness and ire, "I am so sorry. I fell asleep. There is no excuse. They slipped past me. I made Brad promise to wake me, but now that I think about it he actually kind of didn't. Brad said I'll be the first to know about any disaster and in a way he's actually kind of right. What a cursed, cursed disaster." He took a shaky breath, concluding with "I cannot lose them again. I have to go to them. I cannot just be here."

"I know," the adan said, an ages-old pain evident in his voice, "I know. Go… go do as you must my friend. But keep safe. We've only just reclaimed each other. There is much to speak of."

Oxford, England

Mid-2004

"We're in the wrong cursed place," Aragorn muttered as he pocketed his cellphone, "They are in Turkey."

"The hobbits?" Faramir asked.

"Yes," replied Aragorn, "Them. And your brother. And Harding."

Also known as the walking dead…

"They have a goddamn death wish or what?" Emmett breathed.

"Likely," Aragorn winced, recalling the conversation he as Adrian Aarons had with his friend days ago.

"I'm going to die," Brad said flatly.

"Things are different," Adrian argued, "You're not who they think you are. I'm not who they think I am. Or we don't have to be. Either way, that means the story's changed."

"I don't know anymore, man," Brad sighed wearily, "I look at you now, and you're somebody else sometimes. Maybe… I don't know. Nevermind, you know, whatever. If it's your time to go, it's your time to go, right?"

"No one's dying," Adrian said with resolve.

"Maybe it's all right," Brad said pensively, "You know, if the old story pushes through. Because that means we'll win. And I'm the only one who'll end up dead. It's not so bad."

"Boromir thinks his death could ultimately mean our victory," Aragorn said darkly.

"Haldir was made known of his past fate too," Gandalf said, "I do not deem it impossible for them to share the same sentiment. We have to get there quickly."

"I'll check for commercial and chartered flights," Anatalia said urgently, hurriedly getting on her mobile.

"I have a plane too," Emmett offered, "We can leave as soon as the jet is prepared. But it will take a few hours, we have to make arrangements. We'll go with that which can bring us sooner."

"Turkey, you say," murmured Elrohir, frowning a bit, "That could be bad. Where there?"

"Sinop," replied Aragorn, "Legolas said it's near the Black Sea."

"That's not good," muttered Elrohir.

"Why not?" asked Aragorn.

"What of Legolas?" Elladan asked, before Elrohir could reply.

"He's following them within the next few hours," replied the adan with a wince.

"He gave me his word he'd stay out of it!" Elrohir exclaimed, before he frowned and remembered, "No wait. The bloody rake didn't!"

"What's wrong with going to Sinop?" Aragorn asked.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Hey guys!!! Thanks for the c&c's… keep the reviews coming if you can, they are so encouraging it's like setting fire to my tail :) I'm fervently working and as quickly as I can… I'm up to partway of chapter 31. I hope quality doesn't suffer :)

So chapter 29… hm… first sight of Sinop, Turkey, and read that chapter very well… lot's of history, lots of reasons why the fellowship ends up there :) and first sight of the hobbits too! :) 'til then!!!