I don't know which part disturbs me more, the fact that a monster that had just killed Aragorn crawled across the queen's bed and gave Gandalf a kiss, or the fact that he seemed to enjoy it.

How it failed to burn his face, this I did not understand either.

"It is the Colma Ettelea," Legolas said, drawing his sword. "It is known to drive men and elves alike into the depths of madness. The fool must have thought the destruction of the One Ring would weaken its power."

"Surely there's some way to..."

I grimaced in disgust as I observed this unnatural activity developing into uncontrollable passion.

"This cannot end well. Of this I am sure," Legolas said.

"Please tell me there is something you can do."

Legolas spoke with his sword.

With one overhead swing of the Mithril blade, he sliced the creature's head in twain, scalding green blood spraying in all directions.

"What in the name of all gods!" Gandalf shrieked. "What have you done, you diabolical bastard elf!"

"You are not yourself," Legolas said calmly.

"And who are you to make that diagnosis! Depriving a lonely old man the first love of his life that has come his way for centuries!"

Legolas's mouth fell open in shock. "You need help."

"Oh! Now you wish to help! And who are you to bestow this favor? Granted, you elves live a long time, but I'll have you know, I have decades on you! I was learning my first spell when you were still clinging to your mother's breast! Help me indeed! I should help you take a nap with the end of my staff, you young maggot!"

"Gandalf," I protested. "You should not shun the advice of the young." Remembering that elves frequently lived to ages of more than a hundred, I quickly added, "-Ish. I have heard many tales of cynical aged folk renewing themselves-"

"I should clobber you as well. But fat lot of codswallop. Idle talk of housemaids, the whole lot of it."

"You see, that's exactly the problem," I said, and Gandalf hit me in the head with his staff.

"Skalg!" Legolas called in the direction of the queen's bathroom.

No answer.

He turned to face me. "Go check on the Orc. I fear things are not going well."

"Are you referring to his digestion, or something more serious?"

The elf grimaced. "Just check on him, please."

"Oh all right."

Dizzy, disoriented, and smarting from a lump on my head, I marched over to the door.

Behind me, I heard crashing and thrashing and expensive articles shattering, but I ignored it, rubbing my head.

At least the creature was gone.

The Orc's body lay in a bloody pool in the bathtub. He had been eviscerated.

My bare feet waded through pools of blood tainted water, several barrels of the queen's scented bath water having been smashed open in battle. The floor tiles were cold, somewhat sticky.

My eyes scanned everywhere they could, up above and down below, fearing the return of this cruel assassin.

The fireplace was smoldering from all the water. The only reason why this flood hadn't poured into the royal chambers was that the floor was built more than a foot below the bedroom's.

The chamber had a single window, strategically positioned behind the queen's thunder mug, and the chill wind cut through like a knife. Already I could see ice crystals forming.

I glanced back at the doorway. "Skalg is...indisposed!"

"Tell him to get off the thunder mug and help us!" came the reply.

"Legolas! He's passed on!"

More banging and crashing sounds. "Why didn't you say that before?"

I groaned. "I'm coming out!"

"Hold on! Not yet!"

And then I heard the wizard let out the most unmanliest scream I'd ever heard him make.

"There! You can come out now."

I would have obliged, but just at that moment, I hear a low gurgling over my shoulder, and see a dark shape out of the corner of my eye.

The water steams as globs of boiling slime drop around my hairy feet.

"Uh, Legolas?"