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.
" " "
39: The Deal
" " "
The Hotel Room,
Sinop, Turkey
Mid-2004
" " "
Anatalia Craxi gave her lover a quick embrace as he strode into the room trailed by Finn Baggins, Sam Granger and Sean Malcolm. She sat on the floor before Jimmy Goran's laptop, and her eyes were a bit wide with a brand of horror she's never truly known before.
"He is going to kill them," she said to Elladan softly.
The elf put a hand to the speaker of his comm. link that Grima Wormtongue may not hear what he was going to say. "Haldir is gathering a force to break in." He told her sternly, although she knew and understood him long enough to be sure that he wasn't very optimistic about that at all. There was never any 'breaking in' to a barge. It sat in the middle of the sea, it could easily see anything coming its way, unless Mr. Interpol had a submarine hidden somewhere. Though there were a fair number of them about the Black Sea area during the older wars—Russian subs, if Elladan remembered correctly-- there certainly wasn't any now.
Finn Baggins caught his tone, just as he caught what Anatalia Craxi had said. It wasn't really supposed to be such a surprise—he knew they were in trouble from earlier this night, he knew, even though no one explicitly said what was happening aboard the Amazona, he knew from their faces and also from their silence.
He's going to kill them, the woman had said, and then there it was, that bit of quiet breaking in his heart and spirit, as if the hurt was unexpected.
"I want to speak with him," said Finn, "The one who wants the Ankh. I want to speak with him."
"There will be no reasoning or moral appeals with that man, Frodo," said Elladan, "That I can guarantee. Things are better off this way."
Sean Malcolm was pacing next to the window, his boots making dull sounds on the thin carpet, coins and keys and other miscellaneous things in his pockets making clinking sounds. The door to the room opened and he halted to find the second group had just arrived.
Elrohir was on his cellphone, and his comm. link was on Pippin's ear and collar. The young Brit's forehead was creased with worry and some anger. The old wizard stood next to him with a reassuring hand upon his shoulder. On the wizard's other side was Bob Baggins, who was looking at Sean Malcolm darkly.
"I have to use the john," said Sean, and he emptied out his clinking pockets on the nightstand, before scurrying away.
Elladan opened the door that linked their two reserved rooms, to create more space. But people seemed loathe to depart the place where everything was happening, the place around the laptop. They made for quite a crowd in that narrow space, and Finn Baggins sat on a corner of the bed, a nightstand on one side and Sam beside him on the other. He glanced at the things Sean Malcolm left on the table. Some coins, some keys, his cellphone.
"If I can't find a way," Finn said quietly, mostly to himself although undoubtedly Sam heard too, "No one can."
He reached for Dr. Malcolm's cellphone, rose to his feet and discreetly walked over to the adjoining room. Looking perplexed, Sam followed him.
" " "
Deck C,
The Amazona,
The Black Sea
" " "
Dean Malcolm was last to leave his cousin's room, so desperate was he to believe that his Ankh was in there, somewhere. One by one, the mercenaries abandoned the rummaging after they realized all too quickly that the search was futile.
He sat amidst the mess of clothes and papers, frustrated tears drowning his eyes. He wondered with more than a bit of depression, how it was that he managed to take himself to this place. When did he turn, he wondered, when did he decide to become that which he never once thought he could ever be? A thief, a traitor… He was a scholar, an academic. Life was supposed to be simple. He found interest and joy in the barest of things—rocks, soil, a pile of dust… teaching, sharing that passion. How did he become a selfish rat?
There was pride, he supposed. There always was. To be in the bandwagon of a mere student of his… the realization that he had no true achievement that immortalized him. He wanted that Great Find, like what Bob Baggins accomplished. That speech was his to make, those jokes, that applause. That was his. No one else's. It was just ill-luck, bad timing… life was unfair. It could have been his… If he wasn't going to get the fame, he thought, he might as well get the fortune.
And so he betrayed Baggins, collaborated with his curiously desperate bidder and backer, Grissom Warrington. And then he himself was in turn betrayed. He's learned of a multitude of cultures and superstitions. He just didn't know that karma worked quite so fast.
His cellphone was ringing in his pocket, and it tore him from his thoughts. Who'd be calling now, he wondered as he drew it out. He forgot about his self-reproaching meditations when the call was registered as coming from Sean Malcolm.
He answered it right away, almost as quickly as his guilt turned into annoyance.
"You scheming filth," he said at once, "You took it, we both know that. Now where the hell is it, Sean? Where the bloody hell is it—"
"Dr. Malcolm?" the melodious voice from the other end of the line said, "It's me, sir. Finn Baggins."
" " "
The Hotel Room,
Sinop, Turkey
" " "
"What in the world are you doing?" Sam whispered urgently, and Finn made placating gestures at him, imploring him to calm down, not wanting to alert the others in the adjoining room of what he was doing.
But there were never any secrets from elven ears. Finn's eyes drifted up behind Sam, and there stood the twins, looking at him with burning eyes, as if they did not quite know what to do with him.
"Let me do this," said Finn, "If I can't find a way, no one can."
Elrohir winced. He's heard about that. Funny that it was grandmamma who once said that to the hobbit, and it was now the hobbit who was saying this to the elves.
"The Lord and the Lady," said Finn, a bit panicky, as he was confused for it seemed that Frodo was fighting his way through memory; the Rivendell twins were certain he was referring to their father Lord Elrond and the Lady Galadriel, "They remind me of you, and they trusted me, they all did. I need you to trust me too."
" " "
Sick Bay,
Deck C,
The Amazona,
The Black Sea
" " "
Dean Malcolm burst into the room, and guns swiveled his way from the startled mercenaries. He barely paid the danger any mind, and he was bearing cellphone before him as he jogged to Grima Wormtongue.
"It's the lad," said Dean, "It's him, he took it. He wants to deal with you."
Wormtongue's eyes lit up triumphantly, smirking at Aragorn.
"Frodo, don't!" the man cried, only to receive a butt of a rifle to his stomach for his trouble. He doubled over, breathless, and he was tossed almost casually Legolas' way. The two friends made for a bit of a weary heap on the ground, taking over the corner like discarded, dirty laundry.
"He wouldn't," Legolas said breathlessly to his friend, turbulent eyes searching for an answer he wanted to hear.
"What does your heart tell you?" Aragorn asked him in turn.
Legolas smiled at his old friend a little. Frodo will do the right thing, somehow. They had to believe it. The story of the Ring was always a very curious, winding and complicated one. That final, desperate assault of the Ring upon Frodo Baggins up in Mount Doom resulted in the young hobbit's refusal to destroy it, yes. And yes too, that it can be looked upon as failure. But perhaps its destruction was not his true test… Great deeds were meant to be done by great men, and there certainly was not anything outwardly great-seeming about a simple hobbit. His test, perhaps, was a more ordinary one, one that may be harder, but something that anyone at any time is called to do—that is, caring and mercy for someone like Gollum. And having Gollum there, up until the end, ultimately destroyed the Ring.
Frodo will do the right thing, yes, one way or another. And it made Legolas smile a bit wider.
My heart tells me, he thought, We just might win.
The adan did not hear the quiet thought of course, but the smile and the light in the weary elf's eyes was answer enough for him.
The pair let Grima Wormtongue have his momentary triumph. It most certainly will not last the night anyway.
" " "
The Hotel Room,
Sinop, Turkey
" " "
They let him do as he wished.
There was wisdom to him that the pains only he could have known lent to his spirit, even now, even when he was yet to completely reclaim all the memories that once were Frodo Baggins'.
"I will give it to you," said Finn to Grima over the cellphone he 'borrowed' from Sean Malcolm, "But certain conditions must be met."
"State your terms," said Wormtongue.
"All hostages are to be freed and unharmed," said Finn, "And to the world do what you will, you'll have the power once you have this with you. But leave us all alone."
"That begs definition," Grima said coolly.
"You know what that means," countered Finn, "No hurting us anymore. Pretend we're dead, something like that. Let us have our peace. Seek us no longer."
"And you truly do not have a care for the rest of the world?" Grima asked, wondering what the catch was, thinking perhaps the boy was lying; he had something up his sleeve. But he knew no other way to progress, and so he dealt with the young man for now. To hell with all the promises he'd make, he wouldn't really have to keep them and there wasn't really anything wrong with that; it wasn't his fault the kid was lending himself so freely to deception…
"I do care," Finn said, "I just don't have all that much to do about it at the moment, so why bother."
"How do we go about this trade?" Grima asked.
"Leave everyone in the Amazona," said Finn, "All your hostages, leave them there. Take all your mercenaries with you. I will only believe that you've emptied the barge of all your forces, when one of my allies in there confirms it."
"You know I can't just free everyone and take your word on this," said Grima, "meet you somewhere, et cetera. I'd have given up my lever on you if I set them free before I get the Ankh. I know you're the good guy, but that's not the brand of trusting deals that I make. I'm not a goddamn fool."
"Then…" Finn hesitated, "Then bring one of them with you when we make the trade. Someone important."
"Hm…" Grima gave it a moment's thought, "All right. We'll do this your way, little man. Where shall we meet?"
"At the halfway point between the Sinop shore and the Amazona," said Finn, "Over sea. I'll bring a vessel, you can get there however which way you like. As a sign of my good faith, I'm telling you this must be done at sea because we cannot meet at the docks, it will be crawling with the authorities by the time we see each other. We will begin sailing to our meeting place the very moment we get confirmation that you've left the Amazona." He paused, "I… I wish to speak with Brad."
"I'm sorry, he's…" Grima sounded as if he was smiling a bit, "He can't talk right now."
"…Dead?" whispered Finn.
"Oh, no," Grima said at once, "I wouldn't have made that kind of a mistake. As much as possible, that is."
"I'd like to speak with…" oh gods, he couldn't remember their names, "One of them. I want to speak with…"
Strider.
The man with the startling eyes.
Strider is his name.
He's always there when you're afraid or uncertain.
If by his life he could protect you, he would…
If by his death he could protect you, he would…
And he just might, this night.
"Strider?" he said at last, unsure.
" " "
Sick Bay,
Deck C,
The Amazona,
The Black Sea
" " "
Wormtongue leaned over Aragorn, and held the cellphone over the man's ear and mouth, keeping his own head close to hear the exchange.
"Frodo?" Aragorn called, and hoped with the inquiring tone he managed to convey not only the question regarding the caller's identity, but also what it was he was doing too.
"Strider, Brad's okay?" Finn asked.
"Yes," Aragorn answered, "More or less."
"And you? How are you, Strider?" he seemed to have a bit of a time saying the name again and again, turning it over in his head, testing the feel of it in his mouth, the next few strings of Frodo Baggins making their way at last to his conscious knowing.
"I've been worse," Aragorn assured him, pausing, "Frodo, do not do anything you'd regret."
"I know," Finn breathed in, and when he exhaled, his uncertain tone changed altogether. "We will trade, him and I. All his mercenaries will leave the Amazona and meet me at sea. But I will not meet with them unless I know for sure the people aboard the barge are safe. One of you will have to confirm it."
"… All right," Aragorn said after a beat, aching to know what the young man was planning, but Grima was beside him looking just as cautious; he made for a very sharp villain. Something was going on, they all knew it. And though he could do nothing but press forward, he was also wary.
"Time's up," said Grima, eyes narrowing in thought. He took the cellphone from the side of Aragorn's head and pressed it to his ear. "I'll see you in a few minutes, boy. You'd better not be screwing with me."
" " "
The Hotel Room,
Sinop, Turkey
" " "
Finn ended the call, sighing and looking out the window as he sat on a corner of the bed. Cloudy eyes looked out over to defy the stormy clouds, challenging its turbulence. He felt eyes boring into his back. He did not care so much. It wasn't a new sensation.
He drew out the Ankh from his coat pocket, turned it over in his hands, fingers toying with its odd curves and corners, the curious break on the ring that topped the cross. He knew about it well enough, his uncle headed the expedition after all, and was never shy about his passions. The Ankh was just a great excitement to him, a great treasure. It was indeed beautiful, and heavy with rich history.
He ran the tips of his fingers over the tau part, the cross that symbolized death. What fine craftsmanship. Someone's soul went into the work, there was little doubt of that. The long vertical stem of the cross flowed right up to the tear-shaped, ring that topped the tau. The break gave it a curious character. His Uncle said the material was unknown and seemingly unbreakable, yet here was this little gap that failed to complete the ring of life after death, as if the craftsman simply… stopped. It was unfinished work.
He felt a weight beside him. Bob sat there next to his nephew, staring at the Ankh in his hands.
"You will not give it up…?" the old man asked, made as if to reach and take it, except he held back his hand after a moment of thought, "It is not yours to…"
Finn stared back at him helplessly, but never relinquished his hold on the artifact. He did not have an answer.
"I suppose," said Elladan over the resulting silence, "I suppose we are headed for the sea, old friend. I do not know what you have in mind, but the fates and the ages have trusted you ages ago, and they felt it right to do so once again. Far be it for me to argue." He smiled a little, "You're going to need a skilled sailor."
"That would be me then," Elrohir piped in.
"Now that I feel only right to argue, brother," said Elladan evenly, "I was first in line for this noble service. You can go drive the car."
"I'm going too," Sam said.
"I know," Elrohir and Elladan said wryly, at the same time.
"No one's going anywhere without us!" Mark Brandy exclaimed, bursting into the room, trailed by Pippin. The latter hobbit, who reclaimed his memories earlier that night, did not bother to relive the embarrassment of calling the Mission a Thing.
Bob Baggins and Sean Malcolm decided to come too, loathe to leave the presence of the Ankh. And then of course Gandalf rounded up the team, while Anatalia stayed to man the laptop.
Elrohir's elvish warrior's senses wanted to argue the wisdom of bearing so much… 'luggage' with them, all these fellows who knew naught of battles and things. But there was always a time when one could not win by force alone, eh?
Besides… he absently counted all of them in his head, all of them who were going away, and his skin crawled. When the count came up to Nine and stopped there, he had a feeling he really didn't have any place to argue fate.
" " "
Sick Bay,
Deck C,
The Amazona,
The Black Sea
" " "
Legolas looked up blearily as Grima Wormtongue towered over him and Aragorn. The barge was bustling with mercenary activity. They were packing house. They were leaving. And well, because they were mercenaries, they were also taking quite a number of loot with them. Grima had his eyes on bearing some other treasure with him, and his malicious gaze settled on Aragorn.
"I get to take one of you with me," said Wormtongue, "Frodo Baggins remembered you. And I suppose… the Ankh for the King… that deal is not so disproportionate. Besides, the fall of the worlds has always belonged partly to the blood of your forebears. Isildur's heir… this fall of yours, Elessar, for the world to pay for you, has long been in wait.
"Say your goodbye's," Grima continued, "I have a feeling young Mr. Baggins is going to play a goddamn game with me, and you're going to go pay. But we'll see. I'm hoping he'll be more reasonable. But there should always be contingencies." He turned his back on them and walked away.
"When they take me away," said Aragorn to Legolas, "Do not struggle, all right? You can't win. And Frodo has a plan of his own that I intend to respect."
"What makes you think I'd bother?" the elf asked wryly, wincing as he shifted to a more comfortable position. "I'd likely win, though, if I did try to save you from yourself."
"You're one to speak," Aragorn said gently, "Truly elf, you're so much trouble. You're all over the walls and the floor…"
"Yes, well," said Legolas breezily, "that's just… logistics. I wish to go where you're going. I turn my back on you one second and things start happening. I'm not as young as I used to be, you'll give me gray hairs."
"You were never as young as you used to be," Aragorn said, eyes glistening, "Take care, my friend. And I cannot tend you now, but don't think you can just… just sleep off a gunshot wound like that or something. Have it seen to by Yavi, or Faramir. Somebody."
"The blasted modern hospitals will want to give me blood transfusions," Legolas growled, "The first time I was shot on the leg at the job, I didn't even lose this much and they wanted to refill me. I find transfusions a bit… macabre."
"Well they are very necessary," the pert and inextricable healer in Aragorn snapped distractedly before he added, "They'd have tested your blood and seen you were different before they did anything like that though," Aragorn said wistfully, wondering if someone else out there knew that Legolas was not quite human.
"I said my religion prohibited invasive medical procedures," Legolas said with a sick smile, "And I was awake, so I signed no consent. I love the politically correct world. Healers nowadays, unlike you, my friend, actually ask permission. Else they get sued. You'd best be careful. Bull-headed Aragorn has to have some of the cautious reserve of Adrian Aarons…"
The mention of the doctor's name dulled the elf's humor a little. His eyes dimmed, and Aragorn caught it easily.
"You regret," the adan said quietly.
"It's my fault," the elf said after a long, thoughtful pause.
"It is, isn't it?" Aragorn teased him, but he was certainly not in the mood. The glacial eyes were morose and broken.
"I'm all of us all at once," Aragorn assured him, seriously now.
"But I cannot help think as if some part of you died," Legolas said, "Adrian Aarons' cares were less, you see. He is like you, without all of the… the crueler history, the grander responsibility."
"You forget," Aragorn smiled, "It was a glorious, beautiful and loving history too, my friend. You take the good with the bad. As in all things. You've given me a gift in seeking me, in wishing for my recollections."
"You have to leave soon," Legolas said quietly, "And we might both perish this night. But you have to know… if you had stayed as Adrian Aarons, if you simply loathed me and regarded me only as the shatterer of your life's peace… even if you did not awaken, I'd still have given my life for you. Always. You'll never change it. I'd never have loved you any less, brother."
"I know," Aragorn said jauntily, then smiled as he gently added, "That is why I'm here."
And then he wasn't anymore. Because they bore him away.
" " "
The Mess Hall,
Deck B,
The Amazona,
The Black Sea
" " "
"They are leaving," Emmett said to his sister and… and brother-in-law, he supposed. The mercenaries around them were rushing about, packing their things, apparently in the middle of a cautious retreat.
"I do not regard that as good," said Eowyn, "Perhaps they've found what they've been seeking."
"Perhaps aid has come," Faramir countered hopefully, "You can only highjack a barge this large with so many people inside for so long. I'm considering if we should take the chance to strike, now that they are so preoccupied."
"No," said Eowyn, "Something is happening. Let the line run long. Something is happening, we have to know what it is first."
She, Eomer and Faramir, along with the other captives of the Amazona, watched the bustling mercenaries warily and silently. The very air was going to burst all around them, a great event eager to feed on the tension and burn the place down.
The Mess Hall eventually emptied out of mercenaries, and the hostages all stood there looking at each other uncertainly.
" " "
The Sundeck,
The Amazona,
The Black Sea
" " "
Two men dragged Aragorn between them, their grips tight about his arms even though he suddenly and uncharacteristically made for a very complacent captive.
Grima Wormtongue walked just ahead of the trio, and all around them the other mercenaries were scurrying around like busy black bugs atop the rain-pelted ways of the Amazona's sundeck.
Apparently, Frodo was giving up the Ankh if Grima Wormtongue emptied the Amazona of his men, and Grima was complying. But not wanting to lose his leverage on the young man, Wormtongue kept one valuable hostage with him to ensure the ex-hobbit keeps his end of the deal—- Aragorn. A seemingly fair deal, the man in question thought, but Grima was actually getting the short end of the stick; to keep the Ankh in Frodo's hands, to prevent the trade, was a cause he was not unwilling to die for.
But as he was being led to one of the helicopters, he noticed that the scurrying mercenaries were not just packing up their equipment and their loot. His heart hammered and he held his ground, struggling suddenly with his captors.
"I have a feeling young Mr. Baggins is going to play a goddamn game with me, and you're going to go pay. But we'll see. I'm hoping he'll be more reasonable. But there should always be contingencies…"
Grima turned to face him, having heard the trouble he was making as he once again turned hostile.
"There should always be contingencies," he said again, a gleam in his eye. He was not just talking about killing Elessar if the hobbit did not hold up to his end of the deal.
The mercenaries were also lining the Amazona with explosives, and Grima Wormtongue was holding the switch.
" " "
The Mess Hall,
Deck B,
The Amazona,
The Black Sea
" " "
Eowyn, Faramir and Emmett were cautiously making for the double doors that marked the entry into the Mess Hall when it suddenly opened with the arrival of a limping, bloodied Legolas of Mirkwood.
"Oh for god's sakes," Emmett breathed, both with the surprise of the new arrival, and then his haggard appearance. He and Faramir shot forward to support him as Eowyn held his face in her hands.
"I need a comm.," Legolas said, not wanting to entertain any questions, not believing they had much time, "A cellphone, anything. And Faramir. Go to Sick Bay, your brother. He's been shot."
The man's grip tightened upon the elf's hand almost spasmodically, ancient pains crossing his eyes, a much despised tragedy creasing his features.
"He lives," Legolas assured him quickly, almost embarrassed with the heart attack he nearly caused and certainly apologetic, "He is well taken care of, a doctor is there to look after him. But I thought you'd want to know."
"Thank you," Faramir said in a breath, before giving his wife a subtle nod and jogging away to see to his beloved older brother. Eowyn he apparently had no qualms about leaving to her own devices, and the wordless trust was one that lent fire to the weary and bruised Shieldmaiden.
"I am wondering why you are not seen to by a doctor yourself," she said to the elf sternly.
"Later," Legolas said, "I need a comm."
"Eunice, go find any of those devices," Emmett instructed his sister, "I'll see Leland to a chair."
Eowyn nodded and ran off to do as was bid. The two fellows watched her retreating back before they struggled to a cafeteria table. Legolas sat on the table surface rather than on the narrow benches.
"The Amazona is emptied of the mercenary forces," Legolas said with a wince as Emmett relinquished his jacket and pressed it to the elf's gunshot wound. "Finn Baggins is making a trade of some sorts. The safety of us all here in the Amazona and Aragorn, in exchange for the Ankh. Wormtongue fulfilled his end of the deal partway by leaving, but he brought Aragorn with him and will free our old friend once he is given the artifact."
Emmett's forehead creased in worry, "Are we to stop Finn Baggins from pushing through with this? From how all this sounds, I do not think we can afford to lose the Ankh."
"I think our young friend is planning something," said Legolas, "I know not what. I only know to trust him, as I always have. But we must find out if there is something more we can do to help."
"Indeed," Emmett murmured, pausing in thought as he noticed that the other hostages were staring at them. "It seems your barge has been freed," he said to them, "Perhaps you wish to reclaim your bridge and inform the proper authorities."
Emmett was of course, a stranger they knew nothing about. But there was no questioning that he was one of the very few who was actually knowledgeable of the profoundly bizarre situation, so they did as he asked them to. It was only the ship's captain who stopped before him and Legolas and asked, "Who in all of bloodyhell are you people?"
"I'm Detective Leland Greene with the LAPD," said Legolas swiftly, the lie coming along easily since it's been his second skin for years now, "I was on vacation until I found myself in the middle of a situation my training and services could remedy. This is Emmett Rigare, my associate. We are working in conjunction with Interpol and their representative Agent Harding. If your communications officer can get me in touch with him, I would be very grateful."
"Follow me to my bridge," the captain said, before glancing at the other's haggard appearance and frowning in skepticism.
"I'll manage," Legolas assured him coolly, getting to his feet with that compulsive, stubborn jutting of his proud princely chin. Father figures tended to court that streak of stubborn defiance in him.
Not wanting to cramp his style, Emmett bit his tongue and pressed a discreet, supporting hand beneath the elf's elbow, just in case.
" " "
The Bridge,
The Amazona,
The Black Sea
" " "
Eowyn was redirected to the bridge after she found their previously confiscated comm. links. Because the mercenaries looted the barge, she considered herself lucky to have even found them. The cellphones, which were more marketable, were naturally already a lost cause.
She ran to the Mess Hall to find it emptied of her friends, and was told that they headed to the bridge with the Captain of the Amazona. She headed that way in a jog, as her deft hands slipped on the comm. links.
"This is Eowyn, over," she said breathlessly, "Can anyone read?"
"Loud and clear," said Anatalia Craxi over the comm., "It is very good to hear from you at last."
"The mercenaries have cleared the Amazona," said Eowyn, "What in the world is happening and where is everybody?" she asked, and a lengthy silence permeated the other end of the line, making the Rohan woman frown with worry. "Is someone dead?"
Some hesitation from Anatalia, before a quiet, unthreatening scratchy kind of sound was made over the airwaves, and the Italian woman lied and said to Eowyn that she will reply later, for the lines were breaking up.
This of course, worried Eowyn even more. She quickened her steps and entered the bridge of the Amazona in a mad hurry. There, she found Legolas leaning over the communications console heavily with Emmett beside him. He was speaking to Haldir, she realized, for she recognized the Interpol Agent's voice in the speaker system. Apparently, the captain wanted to find out what in the world was happening. But of course, the ever-clever Legolas was foiling him by using his native Elvish tongue. She did not understand what they were saying, and Legolas' careful, stern expression concealed only too well what he was thinking or feeling.
" " "
'So he is arranging a trade,' Legolas said, after Haldir apprised him of the situation.
'Yes,' the ex-elf replied, 'Of sorts anyway. No one's quite sure what he's up to, but we're letting him have the free hand. I am unafraid.'
'Good,' said Legolas, 'I think. And so how is everybody?'
'Anatalia Craxi has the laptop,' said Haldir, 'She is in the hotel, the wretched girl, warm and likely comfortable. Goran and myself, we are soaking up the rain at the docks and managing a nightmare of a team comprised of some of my local contacts, the port authorities, policemen, some representatives from the armed forces, and some paramedics just in case, not to mention the irrepressible media. That barge being in the middle of the Black Sea is also creating a diplomatic nightmare, not just a logistical one. No one's quite sure which country owns the territory. It is much difficult to storm than I first thought. Imagine the kind of threat a fleet of ships and aircraft will create if we do not properly coordinate with the various countries that surround the Black Sea. But the delay is just as well. Frodo needs the time to do what he thinks he must.'
'So he is on a ship right now?' asked Legolas, 'Ready for the trade?'
'Elladan said to me that the nine of them borrowed a ship from a smaller dock,' replied Haldir, 'they're just awaiting a signal that Wormtongue has done as he promised and left the Amazona. A signal that just came from Eowyn, I understand. She reclaimed your comm. links.'
It was the first time Legolas raised his head from staring at the communications console, and indeed, Eowyn was standing there with a comm. link wired to her ears and collar, and a few more in her hands.
'It will not be of very much use to us,' said Legolas, 'Since Wormtongue has a pair and can hear of all that we say.'
'Ensure that your other companions know this,' Haldir reminded them, 'Nothing of importance must be said over the links.'
'Of course,' Legolas said, sighing, 'Well. You are stuck there, I am stuck here, and life is unfolding beyond us. I suppose the best that the rest of us can do right now is to sit back and watch this unfold.'
'I never thought I'd hear you say something like that,' Haldir said wistfully.
'Nor did I,' Legolas said with some surprise over his own realization. 'Well. The Amazona has been freed. I suppose there is less of an urgency for your nightmare team--'
"Sir!" a young midshipman practically brought the doors down in his haste to enter the bridge and speak with his captain. "Sir, you have to see this. The sundeck. The sundeck!—"
"Calm down," his captain advised him coolly, though the manic look about the young man's eyes was sending some panic into him as well.
"Explosives!" the man exclaimed, breathless. "Sundeck. Explosives!"
'I spoke too soon,' Legolas said to Haldir, almost casually, as if disaster was perennially just around the corner and should therefore be expected after all, 'Did you hear?'
'Yes,' said the Interpol Agent, 'I will prioritize sending evacuation teams first, and then bomb squads. Try to silence that panicking boy, keep everyone calm, keep them from unthinkingly and hurryingly abandoning ship. I suspect for Wormtongue to make those explosives an actual threat, he had to have ensured you couldn't get out of the barge. Be wary of setting off any traps with the lifeboats. Tell everyone to touch nothing. Check things out first. Trust only yourself, I'm sure you know basically what to look for.'
'It was in my training, yes,' Legolas breathed.
'Be careful,' Haldir advised.
'And you.'
They ended the conversation in this way, and the elf sighed and wondered at the fates that, just when he's resigned himself to helplessness, courted his action. The Valar are a playful lot. Maybe even a bit insane. But that was their business. He had his own work to do.
Legolas pushed himself from the console. He was weary and hurting, but the body will have to hold out the night.
"Sundeck?" he asked of the midshipman.
"Yes," the young man replied, gulping as he belatedly added, profoundly uncertain of who he was addressing, "Sir."
Legolas nodded and began to walk after him. To Eowyn, he tried to say in the bits and pieces of Rohan's intricate language that he knew, 'Say nothing of importance over the links. There are unwelcome ears.'
" " "
They naturally found him drastically less cooperative after he saw Grima Wormtongue's 'contingency plan.' But they were too near to their destination, too strong and too many, for his struggles to have any real fruit.
To say that he was manhandled into the helicopter was a vast understatement. Dazed and hurt, before he knew it, they were taking to the skies, and the Amazona was a blip beneath his booted feet.
It looks so small, he thought distractedly, watching the barge defy the waves and the winds of the seas that was surely already harsh enough with the tides of the night, with or without that evening's compounding, relentless storm.
"They've fallen silent," Grima said suddenly over the din of the whirring rotors, and Aragorn looked up at him. The villain was speaking of the comm. links, and how it was no longer being used by the new fellowship.
"You should not be surprised," Aragorn pointed out.
"Yes, well," Grima sighed melodramatically, "You are right. To have used it while your enemy listens is a tactical stupidity, especially if you're plotting against him. But I had hoped that Mr. Baggins would make things simpler. Trade, no deception, no alternative plans." He looked at Aragorn with some irony, "Ah, yes. Villains hope too."
"I never doubted," Aragorn said, pausing before adding a bit wistfully, "But you cannot win, you know this, don't you? One way or another…"
Grima stared at him a long while. "I've… I've pondered it, yes. I am not so blind. But I am too near to victory. I cannot not try. It is this blasted, cursed life, you see. Can I not simply say I was made thus, just as you were made to be a hero? Can we not all simply blame the cursed gods for putting us here? I feel so thrown. And this life must be absurd. You could have been me, and I could have been you. We both live on the whim of someone else. Can I change the fates? I doubt. After I've recovered my memories, I realized I was trudging the same goddamn path. But I cannot not try to move away from it. That last life was not so great."
"This one you are presently living is not much better," Aragorn pointed out.
"Do not try and convert me," scoffed Grima, "You are insulting my intelligence. Curious, this life. Truly. Do you not think so, Elessar? Can I change destiny, I wonder. Can you? Can anyone? Does this mean that the choices we make along the course of our lives stand for nothing, because one way or another, we are headed a certain way? Were you therefore born good, and me born evil? I sound melodramatic but it must be plain to see that it seems unfair.
"Or perhaps…" he continued, intent eyes never straying from Aragorn's captive stare, "Perhaps we are born the same, and indeed choices matter. But do we all start from zero, and build a life from there, whether for good or ill? Or do we start with a hundred, destined toward the gods and heavens and goodness, until we fuck ourselves down to hell? I hate this life. But there is comfort yet."
"And where does this lie?" Aragorn asked.
"One way or another, it will end for me tonight," said Grima, "Either with the sleep of death and defeat, or the victory that will ultimately prove I've changed my path." He paused, took a deep breath, and looked down to the seas below. Down at the humble ship that awaited them. Down at Frodo's ship. Where the Ankh was.
"Ah," he said with a sick smile, "Here we are."
TO BE CONTINUED…
Hey guys!!! Sorry for the long wait… it's a long chapter at least!!! I'm working on chapter 40 and am about ¾ of the way done with my 20-page afterword :) I hope you like how the story is moving, and I'm always very excited when I'm almost done.
MASSIVE THANKS for the c&c's… I've never had this much before and I really hope I don't disappoint anybody. I'm certainly working my hardest :) Watch out for more detailed thanks and replies in my afterword.
'TIL THE NEXT POST GUYS, and keep the c&c's coming if you can, I know we're all pressed for time :)