The Thief

"You know," the elf said as we slowly left the garden. "I sensed from the beginning that you had been the thief."
"I would have considered you smarter than that."

"To what extent?"

"I can only repeat myself: I am not a thief. Never have been. And hopefully never will be. Has it not once occurred to you that the reason I have not betrayed the thief to you is because he is close to me?"

To this Legolas did not reply until we had reached the exit of the lower gardens. "I did not think you were so loyal," he admitted.
Exasperated, I raised my head. "Do you know what else you are good at? Disguising insults as compliments."

He lowered his eyes.

"Of course it didn't occur to you. What do I expect from someone who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth? Even though you are many centuries old... some things seem to never change. You can't even understand why you have to take such a step in the first place." I almost regretted tying the elf to my leg. I would have preferred if he had given me a tool to work with on my own. Something that would have freed me from his company. But from the looks of it, I was going to have to put up with it. At least for a while.

"Minas Tirith has been better since Aragorn was crowned king," Legolas replied. "You cannot deny that."

"No, I can't. But it is especially better for those who were not already badly off before. That is a fact." Seeing him raise to defend his king, I added, "I'm not saying Aragorn is personally responsible. I think he is a good king. But even a good king needs an apparatus on which he can rely. Denethor's people are sweeping the city like the plague. They intercept deliveries, control access, have infiltrated the city government. They're everywhere."

He remained silent, looking glum. Finally, he said, "I didn't know that."

"I was aware of that."

"Be assured that I will address it."

I wiped my face. "I didn't mean it that way. You don't have to step into the breach for us ordinary people. I know you're busy with other things. We'll be fine." Four years ago, I would never have thought that I would identify with the common people of Minas Tirith with such strong conviction. But in a way, I was one of them now, or rather, I lived one of their lives.

"That's not true."

"So you insisted on the scroll just to pass the time?", I asked.

"No, I didn't, but... I didn't realize the magnitude of the problem until now."

"Silver spoon, I told you."

The little wrinkle I had seen on his face when we first met was back. "Not only do you use foreign words, but many of your phrases are odd."

"Well, I've only been learning Westron for four years."

He raised an eyebrow. "For that, you speak very well."

"Thank you. Once you get through the grammar, it's not that hard. Besides my native language, I speak one other language fluently. Westron is the third."

The elf shook his head gently. "Every time I think I have you figured out, you surprise me again."

"We met only a few days ago. What makes you think you know me?"

"You are human," he countered.

"So?"

"Humans tend to have very similar views and... approaches."

I narrowed my eyes. "That's very belittling."

"Elves look at it from a different perspective."

"For thinking so little of us mortals, you surround yourself with a surprising number of us. Your dwarven friend, the king." Legolas gave a barely perceptible shrug. Had I struck a nerve? And even if I had, I didn't really want to have this conversation. I didn't care if he thought I was dim. In fact, if he did, it played right into my hands. That's why I said, "I don't want to start a fight, but if you really want to help me, I'd appreciate it if I didn't feel like I was on the same level as an street cat from your point of view."

"I never said that."

"But meant it."

We had stopped in the middle of the street. The elf looked like he was uncomfortable with what I just said.

"I know we are very different and that you have a hard time seeing me as anything more than a potential thief from the Seventh Ring. I don't expect you to like me, but I do expect us to work together as equals. Otherwise, I don't want your help."

After all, it was he who had suggested the deal, not me. Was my request too much to ask?

"Fair enough." He hesitated for a heartbeat before saying, "I want to apologize if I gave the impression that I don't accept you. The opposite is true."

I sighed. Yes, we were different. More different even than he might have guessed. It wasn't just the fact that he came from a different background, but also the fact that Elves looked down on Men and Dwarves here in Middle Earth, and vice versa. Legolas seemed to have made some exceptions, but obviously he didn't extend those exceptions to all members of the group in question. I wouldn't even get started on the fact that I came from a different time. Still, I gave him credit for apologizing.

And even if I didn't like to admit it: He was the first one who tried to talk to me. To truly talk. And he was the first with whom I allowed it to some extent.

I held out my hand. "Forgive and forget."

He looked at it. "What do you want me to do?"

With a smile, I reached for his hand, slipped my fingers into it, and shook it. "Where I come from, this is how we do it."

The elf looked at our hands, which were still intertwined. "This must be a wondrous place."

"Yes," I said softly. "I suppose it is."

When he didn't let go of my hand even after a few seconds, I withdrew it. I was sure it wasn't intentional and he just didn't want to be rude after we had clashed over something earlier. But his touch sent a strange feeling through my stomach that I couldn't quite place.

Then the elf led me back to the road junction that led to my room. I didn't ask why he was doing that, but I allowed it too. At the crossroads, however, I stopped as always. "Where do we meet to examine the script you mentioned?"

"I've reserved a place in the library reading room," he replied. "The day after tomorrow in the afternoon."

I bowed my head and turned to leave, but he held me back, "I may not be used to your frank way of speaking, but... I would be a fool not to appreciate it."

With a furrowed brow, I returned his gaze. Was this his way of telling me that my words had reached him? I wasn't sure, so I just nodded, "See you in a bit."

"N'i lû tôl.*"

*Until then