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Heart of Slash is very pleased to host the entire 100-part series Modern Earth series by Azarad. Ten chapters per page, one page added with every update and in no time at all you’ll be able to read the whole darn thing!
You can contact the author at Azarad@aol.com, or leave a message for her at heartofslash LJ
Title: Modern Earth Series
Author: Azarad
Fandom/Pairing: LOTR, Legolas/Gimli
Rating: from G- NC-17, depending on the part - be prepared for hot Elf/Dwarf lovin’!
Disclaimer: Azarad made this all up. None of it’s true at all. Heh.
Summary: Legolas and Gimli are living in modern Middle Earth, but their happy peaceful existence is dirupted by events beyond their control...
Parts 1-10, 11-20, 21-30, 31-40, 41-50, 51-60, 61-70, 71-80, 81-90, 90-100
Part 1 Late for Work
Part 2 Litigation
Part 3 Home Again, Jiggedy Jig
Part 4 Court Date (part 1)
Part 5 Legal Eagles and Legal Beagles
Part 6 Listening to Nightingales
Part 7 Out of a Sound Sleep
Part 8 Down At The Station
Part 9 In The Cage
Part 10 The Offer
1 - Late for Work
Noise of early morning residents driving off to work drifted upward through the open window of a spacious bedroom in a luxury apartment in a midtown neighborhood of a modern city. A block away, tall pines scented the air. Ducks and swans glided across the small lake at the third hole of the local golf course. A policeman’s horse clipclopped on the concrete as the pair made their rounds.
Inside the bedroom, two figures rested entwined in Christian Dior sheets. A landscape by Renoir hung above the headboard. Mahogany furnishings, hardwood floors, central air, the place was a modern palace. Yet, one of the sleepers tossed and then snuggled closer to his companion.
"Gimli," Legolas sighed in his friend’s ear. "Do you ever miss the old days?"
"Oh, aye," Gimli said, snorting awake and stretching his short legs. "We could lay about our rooms in Minas Tirith and tinker for hours putting an edge on the weapons."
"We could take the edge off, you mean," Legolas said kissing his companion’s ear softly before sucking the generous lobe into his warm mouth.
"Ye randy elf," Gimli said, squirming away, and then turning to wrap his short arms around his bedfellow’s slim waist. "Dawn’s broke. We need our jobs. Rent’s higher every month, ye know."
"We could live in the park. I’ve seen lots of men there, under the freeway bridges."
"Oh, now that would be to your likin’, wouldn’t it?"
Legolas stretched, sighed and replied softly, coaxingly, "We’ve both been in some fine subway tunnels, if that would please you more. With you beside me, I’d make a home underground."
"Give up the occasional hot bath? Give up imported beer? Ye jest, Legolas."
"Ai, Gimli," Legolas cried out. "I hear the gulls on mornings when I take the ferry ride to work. Sometimes, I long to shut out their crying, go back to the forest and walk among the trees."
"Say the word, an’ home ye’ll go, Friend."
"And leave you in Middle Earth? Never."
"Yet, this world goes stranger with each new age. I fear we’ve seen too much of it. Even the Hobbits have gone to ground. My own kind has sunk to pro wrestling. Makes me ashamed to be a dwarf."
The tall slim creature in the bed shifted away from his short, thick companion. A fresh flurry of noise outside, residents shouting greetings to one another, cars starting up, dogs barking. The elf swung his long legs over the side of the bed. His head bowed a moment. Long waves of maize-colored hair shadowed his sharp features.
"I’d better get up," Legolas said with a sigh. "I’m decorating the mayor’s study today and then helping his wife choose a dress for a dedication."
The dwarf tumbled off the other side of the bed and called over his shoulder. "I almost forgot! I’ve got to check the support piers at Three Corners. Construction’s in a dwarf’s blood."
"Admit it, Gimli," Legolas called after his companion while stretching his long limbs. "You love the pay."
"And you enjoy gifting your wisdom. As if a woman can’t choose her own clothing. I don’t see why they pay you for what you do."
"You’re the one who’ll pay for that remark, Master Dwarf."
"Not as much as ye will tonight, Master Elf," Gimli said with a smirk as he tossed a pillow at his friend’s head.
2 - Litigation
Hardly able to contain his disdain, and his entire hand smarting from the punch he’d thrown, Legolas keyed in Gimli’s number on his cell phone. While the chime sounded in his delicate ear, he scuffed the mud off his riding boots and waved courteous acknowledgment to the youngster who walked his polo pony off to the wash racks. The elf's high forehead furrowed in a flash of recall. An hour on his favorite horse was supposed to be enjoyable. Why did someone have to spoil his afternoon?
Legolas walked into the shade of an ancient oak, drew in a deep breath, and leaned on his mallet. A single bead of sweat trickled down his spine. The day was a warm one. He shifted his weight. The phone continued to ring. Of all people, Gimli would understand why his companion acted as he had. Ah, the connection opened. Loud roaring noise and shouting voices. Legolas had a flashback of Helm’s Deep.
"Gimli?" he asked.
"Aye, ye got me. Do’n mind the sound. We’re drillin'."
"Can you meet me for dinner at the club? About seven?"
"Aye, but must I squeeze into a white coat?"
"Oh please, yes. I insist that you wear a jacket. The new leather one will do."
Legolas paused. He hardly knew what to say next. Another deep breath and he added, "I’ve arranged a private room."
"Have I missed an anniversary?"
"No, nothing so pleasant. We’re meeting with our solicitors. I’ll explain when you arrive."
*****
The dinner was coq a vin served with an array of fresh vegetables on a bed of wild and brown rice. The aroma was divine. The table service was elegant gold rimmed bone china. The waiter poured a taste of the wine. The elf sniffed and nodded his head. Gimli licked his lips and reached out with both hands for the golden brown bird on its savory nest. Legolas twitched his long index finger.
Please, Gimli," the elf whispered. "Knife and fork, Master Builder."
At that same moment, Legolas spread with a flourish a snowy linen napkin over his lap. Then he poured them both glasses of cold white wine and picked up the carving tools.
"Aye," Gimli said, raising his head and holding out his plate, careful to keep his beard out of the way as his friend served him choice morsels.
The dwarf was hungry. He’d learned to be patient with the elvish way of making a meal into an work of art. Long ago, he’d decided that elves didn’t really need to eat since they did no real work. They simply liked the drama of serving food.
He and his fellow construction crews had labored a month already on their project, performing manly tasks of demolition and carting away rubble. Then the new foundations were poured, and walls of steel and glass rose into the blue. Building brought on a mighty hunger.
And the meal certainly looked tasty. So was the handsome company. Yet Gimli sensed reserve in his friend’s mood. Legolas hadn’t taken more than a taste for himself.
"I’m glad to see you have your characteristic appetite," Legolas murmured, his sharp eyes flickering, glancing around the room. Then, as if reading his companion’s mind, the elf added, "I myself can barely eat a crumb."
"Wha' has you in knots, Friend?" Gimli asked, around a mouthful.
Gimli drank down a full glass of the crisp, white wine waiting for an answer.
Then he said, "Try a little more of this. It’s very refreshing. My father always said that wine loosens an elvish tongue."
Pricking an elf’s pride was a dangerous business, but something had to spur Legolas into an explanation. Gimli waited for the barb to irritate a moment longer. He chewed a mouthful of well-seasoned rice, consciously refraining this time from trying to speak until after he swallowed.
Legolas did sip from his glass. Finally, the story poured out.
He said, "I had a rather serious disagreement with one of the riders over at the polo grounds. He was striking his poor horse with his whip before the creature had taken a single wrong step. I could not tolerate his behavior a moment longer."
"What did you do?"
"I think I broke his nose."
"Is that all?"
"Well, I think we are being sued too. At least, the lout decided not to press criminal charges. He must know I have powerful friends."
"That’s true. I’d back you, and I’d see that no union workers entered his shop."
"I think he meant the mayor, Gimli."
"Oh. Well, I would have broken far more than his nose for hurtin' a poor beast."
"He said I should keep my pointed ears out of his business."
"Oh, really! He said that?"
"I think we should counter-sue. It was a racial slur."
"Your ears are pointed," Gimli said smiling, as he sipped the last of his wine, catching his friends eyes. Then the dwarf took the bottle, filled his companion's glass and then is own.
"It was the way he said it," Legolas sputtered.
"Drink up, Legolas. And relax. Before you fret any more, let’s hear what our solicitors have to say."
"I called them right after it happened. They said they'd be here about 8 o’clock. In time for dessert."
"That’s our solicitors. They love their sweets."
"Old Took was pleased to hear from me, until I told him what happened. Then he turned grave. He told me to put my faith in Took, Underhill, Brandybuck and Gamgee."
"I would imagine those names carry some weight in the courts."
"Yes," Legolas said with the first slow smile of the evening. "Those folk do carry a great deal of weight."
"Ah, here they are now!"
Two well-dressed gentlemen and a robust young woman entered the room following the maitre ‘d who pushed the dessert tray. Peregrin Took the Twenty-third was now the Old Took. The family had made its first fortune in tobacco but recently sold off those shares of the family business and invested in coffee and chocolate instead. Always philanthropic, Tooks granted endowments to colleges, museums and hospitals. For that reason, Tooks had offspring in nearly all the professions.
Meriodoc T. Brandybuck used his middle initial to distinguish himself within his vast clan. He was one of the few who had branched away from the famous Brandybuck Wineries empire. Still secretive and clannish, no one knew for certain whether or not a thousand bottles from the beginning of the Fourth Age gathered dust in their deep cellars. If they did, the clan was even richer than it seemed. Regardless, investors considered their stock as solid as the Misty Mountains.
And then there was Samantha Gamgee. Her family’s wide holdings in exotic agricultural holdings contained everything from dairies producing gourmet cheeses to macadamia nut plantations. As prolific as their vegetation, the family was huge, marrying into every profession and race. Samantha, like her Took cousins, could claim not only a healthy infusion of human blood but also the rare elvish.
Legolas stood up as the trio entered the room. Gimli rose to his feet too and bowed low to the curvaceous Ms. Samantha. She twittered and gave him a big hug. Legolas stood in line for his greeting. She was as cheerful as a wren and basked in the attention the pair gave her as they seated her at table.
The other Hobbits needed no ceremony to sit down and choose a rich dessert. The maitre ‘d served coffee and left them to their conversation.
3 - Home Again, Jiggetty Jig
Gimli yawned. He looked at his pocket watch. After eleven already and the three lawyers still debated settling the case versus going before a judge or a jury. The hobbits had each eaten three or four desserts and emptied two pots of Costa Rican coffee. Legolas looked as fresh as ever. Gimli’s eyelids drooped.
The dwarf cleared his throat. His lover turned his gaze upon him. The mobile elven features registered a quick succession of emotions. A smoldering calm turned suddenly fearful, and then the noble forehead furrowed into lines of deep concern.
"Gimli, you have to work in the morning. I’ve been thoughtless."
"I’ll not leave you in your time of need."
"Well then, help me decide. Our fortune depends upon it. Shall I settle or shall I fight?"
"Ye needn’t ask me, Friend. Ye know me."
"Aye, Stout Warrior," Legolas said, his sharp eyes narrowing. "I too say we fight."
"Oh, no!" Ms. Gamgee wailed. "Settle!"
"Delay," suggested Brandybuck.
"Prepare to counter sue," Old Took cried out, waving his small fist in the air.
Gimli rose slowly from the table. He wrapped his thick fingers around his lover’s forearm and squeezed once.
"I’ll see ye a’ home."
Legolas nodded, a ghostly smile blossomed and faded like the fabled elanor. At the same moment, there was a sharp knock at the door. The maitre ‘d peeked in to see if they needed anything. Legolas asked him to call the parking valet and have Mr. Gloinson’s vehicle brought to the front door. The man nodded and did as he’d been asked.
The hobbits finally pushed back from the table and rose too. Brandybuck called their driver while Old Took scheduled another appointment for the following week. The legal firm would get the court date and prepare the defense. It all sounded like battle planning to Gimli, tension and excitement blending. It only he could catch his second wind.
Shyly, just before they parted company, Samantha gave each of her hosts a peck on the cheek. She giggled and said beards tickled. For the second time that evening, Gimli’s heart turned to porridge. He remembered another meal with brave hobbit companions amid the destruction of Isengard so long ago.
After the hobbits left, Legolas slipped his platinum card to the maitre ‘d and signed the receipt. Gimli yawned again. Then he felt the slim arm of the elf slip under his elbow.
"I’ll walk down with you."
"A fine meal and excellent company. My compliments."
"I’m a little hungry now."
"We’re going home."
"It has been an exhausting day."
"I’ll drive. You can pick up the XKE in the morning. It’ll be safe here."
*******
At their comfortable abode, Gimli heard an uncharacteristic sound coming from the shower as they prepared for bed. Legolas had suddenly yelped in pain.
"Are you all right?" the dwarf called into the cloud of steam.
"Just a bruise."
"Let me see."
Rivulets of hot water cascaded down pale flesh the color of fresh cream. Head bent down, long, water-darkened locks concealed the elf’s sharp features. He placed one slender foot upon the edge of the tub and turned his right side toward his companion. The elf’s long fingers rubbed across a dark bruise in the middle of his long, firm thigh. Gimli sucked in his breath.
"How’d ye get that? In the fight?"
"Someone knocked a ball down-field and I was in its path. It’s hardly serious. After it happened, I rode back to the barn to get some ice. That’s when I saw Fenton hitting his horse."
"And ye’ went for him."
"I ordered him to stop. He replied that I was to stay out of his business."
"He spoke of your pointed ears, as I recall."
"There was that too."
"I find the shape of your ears an endearing feature."
A slow smile curved elven lips into a great bow. Long eyelashes blinked away sparkling water droplets. Legolas stepped out of the shower and into his lover’s embrace.
No words were necessary. The dwarf’s robe fell to the floor. His thickly muscled frame leaned against the delicate ivory pillar of his life-long companion. The steaming shower concealed the mist in their eyes. They both stepped under the spray.
Erotic touches were mixed with the soothing scrubbing away of the day’s cares. The scent of lavender lulled caution. Sweet fondling awakened delight. Water and passion’s fire met. Toweling dry, a creature of the deep earth kissed a being of the open air.
"Bed now, Gimli."
"Aye, Friend."
4 - Court Date (Part One)
“I feel like a criminal, Gimli,” Legolas said unable to sit with his companion at the breakfast table.
He paced instead, drinking his morning coffee first in the kitchen and then on the balcony overlooking the yellow pines in the park. When the elf was not sipping, he was absently brushing lint from his blue-gray pinstripe suit. His hair, braided into flat plaits, swung across his back with each turn of his pacing. Shiny black wingtips completed his ensemble and a stylish gray fedora awaited to crown his head for the drive to the courthouse. Today was the preliminary hearing.
“We’ll take the Jag today,” Legolas said to the air. “I have everything I need in my briefcase.”
“Trust Old Took, Friend,” Gimli said between mouthfuls of bran muffin. “Even if you are bound over, he’ll have you out on bail within an hour or so.”
“Even the thought of imprisonment is hard to bear, Gimli,” Legolas whispered.
“Aye,” Gimli sighed. “Yet that bridge is far ahead. Sit, eat a bite with me. Oh, I’ve packed a wafer of waybread in your case. Just in case.”
Legolas walked quickly over to the table. He put down his cup. Crouching he met his friend’s gaze.
“How I love thee, Gimli Gloinson,” the elf said.
“And I thee, Mr. Greenleaf,” Gimli replied with a smile, brushing crumbs out of his beard knowing he was about to be kissed heartily.
5 - Legal Eagles & Legal Beagles
The downtown office of Took, Underhill, Brandybuck and Gamgee was less than a block from the main courthouse. The drive had been pleasant and mercifully short. The elf parked his XKE in a private, secure lot, giving the attendant a glare when he offered to bring it ‘round when they were ready to go. Grabbing his briefcase, Legolas pocketed the keys and strode off toward the front door of the law office.
"Come in, Mr. Greenleaf," Samantha Gamgee said. "Nice to see you too, Mr. Gloinson. Sit right here."
The young lawyer was wearing a navy suit with heeled shoes to give her a little more height. She had her blond tresses piled high upon her head adding another inch or two. Her associate, Mr. Holman Underhill, looked like a merry youngster happily leafing through a folder of photocopies. Gimli smiled and rubbed away a sudden tear in his eye. The hobbit was the very image of Frodo Baggins.
Another youngster brought coffee and a tray of sweet rolls. The hobbits dove into what they called second breakfast. Legolas graciously accepted a cinnamon roll and shared it with Gimli. They waited and chatted until the clock chimed half past eight. Then they stood and walked to the courthouse and up to the fourth floor. They were to see the judge in his chambers.
Old Took was there waiting in the hall for Legolas. Gimli was shown a bench outside the door. Young Mr. Underhill was to wait upon him. Fine elvish nostrils flared. Legolas cast a worried glance at his friend. Then the elf looked at the door with a solemn expression. Gimli remembered the fear he faced when they had entered the Paths of the Dead. Gimli gestured with a flutter of his thick hand
"Go in, Legolas," he whispered. "Take care of this business. Rest assured that a dwarf keeps his post at the door."
"You comfort me, Gimli," Legolas replied as he squeezed the dwarf’s brawny shoulder once before turning and marching into battle.
****
Some time later, a pale Legolas returned to stand silently next to his friend. The hobbits twittered about getting lunch and Gimli slipped his watch out of his pocket. Half past ten. Gimli looked up. A man of medium height and build, his face taped and bandaged, stepped through the door, his arm linked with a dark haired woman.
"Is that him, Friend?" Gimli asked softly.
"Yes," Legolas breathed.
"Oh, and that’s Wynona Faye Winsom on his arm. Also known as the Dragon Lady," Ms. Gamgee added. "She’s tough as old Smaug."
Gimli could help but shudder. Smaug had destroyed fortunes and whole families of the dwarven race. Curiously, his name had gone into common usage among hobbits. And Ms. Gamgee had a habit of prattling. No wonder so many hobbits were in the legal trade.
They walked across the street from the courthouse and found a table at one of the many cafes catering to downtown business folk. Fast and palatable food filled the menu. The hobbits acted as if they hadn’t eaten in weeks. Gimli sighed and ordered coffee to start. Under the table he touched his partner’s hand. It was icy as the winds of Redhorn Pass.
"So how’s the case to proceed, Friend," Gimli asked. "Old Took thought it might be dismissed as a simple disagreement between two gentlemen, since no one was seriously injured."
Legolas cleared his throat. Then he looked down. Finally, his eyes smoldering in cold fire, Legolas looked sidelong at the dwarf.
"Fenton claimed I attacked him with malice and intent to kill. In front of the judge he referred to my kind as cold-hearted and dangerous."
"Did he now? Well, caught in a lie from the first," Gimli said picking up his cup and taking a sip.
At that moment, young Mr. Underhill pulled out a piece of fax paper from the laptop he’d placed on the table next to his wireless phone. He scanned it and then waved it in the air.
"Ah hah!" he exclaimed. "You gentlemen must fill me in, but here on this document we may have the reason for our opponent’s singular dislike of elves in general and-or one elf in particular."
An elven eyebrow shot upward. "Where have you been looking, sir," Legolas asked.
"Genealogical records, Mr. Greenleaf, sir. You see, there are many cases of personal injury that have underlying prejudicial causes. It’s a common thing to trace back families to see if feuds ever existed. Among hobbits, it tends to be all too common. Take the case of the Farmers Maggot or better yet, the Sackville-Bagginses…"
"Not to cut the story short, laddie," Gimli broke in. "But, get to our own opponent."
"Well, the ancestor of his that intersects with you was named Grima. He lived in Rohan at the time of King Theoden, when three walkers, an elf, a dwarf and Lord Aragorn entered the realm."
Gimli slapped his thick hand on the table. "We were there, lad. We can piece together the rest."
"Horses," Legolas murmured. "Fenton claims to train horses.
6 - Listening to Nightingales
"I’ll take time off, Legolas," Gimli said stroking the long, smooth back next to him in the big bed.
"They need you at the site, Gimli," a soft voice in the dark said, muffled by pillows. "How can they manage without you?"
"They will."
The slim form of the elf shifted and turned. Legolas reached his graceful arms around his companion’s neck and rested his chin atop the dwarf’s head. The fresh night wind ruffled the sheers at the window and filled the room with the soft scent of the nearby pines. A pair of nightingales sang.
"Gimli," Legolas said with a deep sigh. "You’ll hate dressing in a suit every morning. The trial may last a week."
"I’ll manage," Gimli replied, his voice rough as gravel.
Then, Gimli kissed the bare white flesh that pressed against him, as smooth as fine marble, pale as alabaster, yet warm and living, a beating heart within precious stone. The closeness, scent of trees, fresh linen on their bed, the sound of his lover’s voice blending with the birds’ song, all these things stoked the fire within the dwarf’s heart hotter than any forge. Love linked him to Legolas with unbreakable mithril chains. Nothing, not even death, could take one from the other.
Legolas sighed again. He returned a cool kiss, soft as a raindrop on the dwarf's head. He stroked the dwarf's cheek with the backs of his fingers, the feel of the thick beard soothing.
"Fenton wants me in prison, Gimli. He hates me that much."
"He can’t have ye, do ye hear?"
Another kiss, warmer. A long leg drew up and slowly slipped over the legs of the dwarf. Like the tendrils of a vine, elven limbs wrapped him, ivy covering rock.
"Can you still breath?"
"Oh, aye. I’m used to your habits. I’m pleased I broke you of standing to sleep."
A sharp snort, and then a peal of silver laughter.
"Only you, Stout Heart, could bring me mirth at a time like this."
"Do ye fancy a tickle?"
"Ah, no. I ponder yet upon my case."
"Do ye think ye were entrapped, Friend?"
"For what purpose? A plot against me?"
"Grima was a tool of Saruman. Could Fenton be one too? Someone who knew ye both could have set up the little scene."
"How would they be certain I’d ride back to the stable at precisely the correct moment?"
"Who knocked the ball your way without calling out? I’ll wager ye were hit intentionally."
"Fenton only recently arrived at the club. We never even spoke before that day."
"I’m afraid ye have hidden enemies. We must place our concerns before the authorities. Ye can trust the mayor, can ye not?"
"I can. And I’ll chance a call to the current Prince of Dol Amroth. Now, there, Gimli, was another fine man we both knew, sitting his horse so calmly on the Fields of Pelennor."
"Aye, Prince Imrahil."
"If I hadn’t had you already, Gimli, I would have sent flowers his way."
"Ye randy elf."
There in the moonlight blossomed a bright smile on the elf’s fine features. The best one in days. Gimli shook himself loose, flattened his bedpartner, and kissed those smiling lips hard.
"Could Imrahil do that?"
"I never asked him to…"
7 - Out of a Sound Sleep
Thumping on the door. The muffled sound of an orc ram at the gate… Gimli bolted upright in bed. Flashing blue and red lights danced, skipping from one mirrored surface to another. Blinking away sleep, Gimli frowned. He realized the colored lights originated from squad cars down on the street. Reaching over, he laid his hand where the elf’s shoulder should have been. His companion was gone.
Leaping from the bed, dragging on a robe, Gimli marched down the hall to the archway into the front room. Legolas stood near the front door in his silk robe, his golden hair unbound, slender arms pulled behind his back. One officer, reciting something, had a hand on the elf’s elegant shoulder. More uniformed men searched the kitchen and the dining room. What was going on, Gimli wondered. It was the middle of the night.
"Look," an officer shouted, pointing. "There’s his partner. Do we take him in too?"
Gimli walked calmly out into the room, muttering Dwarven curses. Legolas snapped his head around. Gimli flashed a look at his captive companion. The message was clear between them. The dwarf would not hesitate in his attack if the elf but gave the nod.
Legolas shook his head and turned back to the officer who held him.
"I said I would go quietly. My friend has done nothing."
Gimli did not stop his advance toward the policeman taking Legolas into custody. Frightened officers pulled out their guns. Legolas raised his head and shot a cool glare at the dwarf. Then the elf smiled and shrugged his shoulders still under the hand of the police lieutenant.
"Calmly, Gimli," Legolas said. "Give Old Took a call. Then, come fetch me out."
"What is the meaning of this?" Gimli demanded.
The officer answered, "Your elf friend is under arrest. You will be too if you obstruct justice."
"Do as he says, Gimli. I’ll be fine."
"Legolas."
"Please, Gimli, show the officers around our home. See that they have access to everything. Cooperate. Do you hear?"
Gimli gnawed at this lower lip. It was not in his nature to give in without a fight. Gladly, he would have traded their valuables for his friend’s freedom. Was it time to try a bribe?
"Hey Lieutenant," a tall, thin officer shouted. "I found a Glock automatic, two ten shot clips and a sweet little Hammerli. These are expensive weapons, sir. Shall I bag "em?"
"Yeah, go ahead," the lieutenant called out. Then he said, "Target pistols, Mr. Greenleaf?"
"No, self-defense. And they are registered."
"Got anything else here that we should see?"
Legolas furrowed his fair brow. "What do you mean, sir?"
"Look, Mr. Greenleaf. We wouldn’t want to break anything searching this nice place. Just tell us where you keep the stuff you shouldn’t have."
"I have no idea what you mean."
"You don’t know anything about the murder attempt on Nathan Fenton this evening?"
"No, I don’t."
"Well, if we find a crossbow, you’re goin’ down."
Frost in his voice, Legolas said, "Gimli, take the officers to our study. They may inspect all of my things. Unlock the case if they wish to inspect Galadriel’s Bow."
Gimli growled and muttered another streak of curses in his native tongue.
Then the dwarf said, "Aye, Friend. If they must."
8 - Down at the Station
Gasps of admiration and hushed voices surrounded the glass case that held Galadriel’s Bow. Legolas remembered the last whisper of golden mallorn leaves in Lothlorien. He and Gimli had become the best of friends. They’d rested in one another’s arms under gold-leafed canopies. They’d kissed beside the flowing Silverlode to the water’s melodious churning.
Legolas closed his eyes and blinked away the memory. A tear slid to the corner of his eye. He bit his lip. His hands were cuffed behind his back. He couldn’t even wipe his eyes. He blinked and raised his head allowing the moisture to trickle down inside his sinuses. He sniffed. Stone, he thought. Features of flint before these men. He took a deep, long breath and settled his heart. Gimli behaved and he was safe.
At that moment Lieutenant Davis glanced over at his suspect. He frowned and cleared his throat.
"I appreciate your cooperation, Mr. Greenleaf," the officer said. "I’ve never…"
"I understand you are doing your duty," Legolas replied with a nod of his head. "Now if we might conclude the night’s proceedings? My friend and I have appointments to keep in the morning."
"You won’t be keeping any of yours. We are holding you and your lawyer will have to speak to the judge to have bail set this time. I’m sorry."
"Am I to go dressed in my sleeping attire?"
"Your friend can pack some clothes and follow us downtown. He can make his statement tonight. He is your alibi, right?"
"Yes, we spent the evening together. We drove separate cars but he followed me."
"You don’t need to tell me any more. Wait for your lawyer."
Legolas shrugged his shoulders. He remembered not to smile. The lieutenant wasn’t a bad man. He was like any warrior dealing with the enemy. He was cautious, yet honorable.
"May I have a pair of shoes?" Legolas asked quietly.
"Of course, Mr. Greenleaf."
*****
The dark blue suit, a pale cream shirt, briefs and socks, Gimli thought as he carefully folded each item into a carry-on bag. Gimli rubbed his palms against the fabric of the jeans he’d thrown on. He shook his head. His stomach rebelled at the notion of flying within the thin metal skin of great airships. Horses had been bad enough.
He sighed and put together a travel kit from the bathroom. Neither of them shaved but Legolas possessed the usual elven vanity regarding his long hair. Gimli had fashioned him a pair of brushes out of carved jade, the bristles of boar’s hair.
"Time to go, Mr. Gloinson," an officer called.
"Aye," Gimli answered. "I have what I need."
Officer Riley had introduced himself to the dwarf and he’d explained that he was to drive them downtown. After his statement, the dwarf was free to go. Gimli grabbed his wallet, checked it for suitable amounts of cash and followed the officer downstairs.
They’d already assisted Legolas into the back of another squad car. All the neighbors were out, a few muttering comments that they’d predicted this outcome concerning their strange neighbors. The building superintendent spoke to a news crew.
"They were a quiet couple. Kept to themselves," he said staring into the steady-cam. "I can’t believe they tried to murder anyone."
Gimli rolled his eyes. Their story, warped and blown out of proportion, would be all over the news. Even a kind remark in their favor would be distorted. People remembered the sensational, never the actual facts.
*****
The city was beautiful at night. Lights like hanging gems on mithril necklaces burned in towers that rose among the stars. Streams of red and white lights marked the great highways. Gimli was fond of concrete and steel. The wheels of the squad car sang as they drove over the metal grating on the great bridge span that hung suspended above the river. Gimli’s heart pounded, echoing the running steps of his companions in the Fellowship as they crossed Durin’s Bridge in Khazad-dum.
The dwarf shook himself free of sorrow and dread. He touched the case he carried filled with things for Legolas. Old Took would meet them. Gimli had called him before leaving their apartment. The old hobbit reassured him. Legolas was innocent and neither of them had anything to fear.
Gimli snorted abruptly. Fear, he thought. What did any child of men in the world today know of fear? Who among them had sat a horse before the Black Gate and listened to the words that issued from the Mouth of Sauron? A deep sigh. They entered the police garage. The young officer opened the door for him and offered to carry the case.
"I’m old but not unwell, sir," Gimli snapped. Then he cracked a smile and said, "I thank ye’ for the offer nonetheless, lad."
"This way, Mr. Gloinson," Riley said. "I’ll introduce you to Officer Lopez who’ll take your statement."
*******
Dawn was breaking when Old Took escorted Gimli to his vehicle, a lime green Beetle. They drove over to the law office for breakfast and discussed the case. The charges were serious. They would allow no bail. Legolas would remain in the city jail awaiting another hearing. Old Took had motions ready to be filed. False arrest, harassment, racial discrimination, to name a few.
Gimli fell asleep on the exceptionally comfortable sofa in the hobbit law office to the soothingly soft clicking of computer keys. Hobbits were amazingly quiet and diligent workers. Delving had always been in their blood. Collecting gossip and reading the odd story were second nature to them. They were ideal for legal research work. And they rarely came up empty.
About half past eight, the energetic Mr. Underhill let out a whoop! Gimli leaped to his feet and searched himself for his axe. Then he woke up.
"I think I’ve found a connection, Mr. Gloinson," Underhill exclaimed. "Wynona Faye Winsom’s roots go all the way back to the town of Dale. When the town was destroyed, her ancestors moved to Lake Town but lost their home again blaming the elves and dwarves for stirring up the Dragon. Receiving less compensation than what they thought their due from Smaug’s horde, they moved to Bree and became business partners with a Mr. William Ferny. He ran the local livery stables. Here’s another curious recent note. About a month ago, Ms. Winsom purchased a horse of rare bloodstock from Edoras Farms owned by Nathan Fenton."
*******Earlier that same night....
"This way, Mr. Greenleaf," Lieutenant Davis said gesturing with his hand for Legolas to cross a busy room filled with desks and officers writing up offenders. "We need fingerprints and a photo. Then we'll take your statement. Mr. Took is waiting in my office."
Quietly, Legolas stood for his photos, his arms still in cuffs behind his back. He was ordered to sit. He complied. Then his nose itched. Nearly all the scents in the room were unpleasant. He sniffed and suppressed a sneeze. Minute by minute, it was getting harder and harder to resist the temptation to bend forward and rub his nose across his knee.
Finally, it was his turn with the technician. His cuffs were removed. Numbly, Legolas allowed them to handle him, turning his long fingers on the ink pad and then rolling them on the paper one at a time. The young woman looked up at him in awe.
"I’ve never fingerprinted an elf before," she said.
"I’m new at this too," he said softening his features.
"Have you had your phone call?" she asked.
"My solicitor is here, thank you."
"Then just go over there into that room. Hope everything turns out for you, sir."
The small kindness was not lost. Legolas smiled again and nodded his head politely to her. Then he passed the evening’s catch of thieves, drunks, hookers and drug dealers telling their sad stories to the cops. They were a shabby lot, some dressed in gaudy finery and others in rags. Raising an arched eyebrow, Legolas threaded his way. He belted his silk robe tighter around his narrow waist. He mused, a smirk playing across his mouth. Elves remained superior to men in any number of ways. At least he was accused of something greater than petty crime.
Entering the small room, he saw that it contained a table and three chairs. A long mirror covered one wall. Immediately his keen vision detected observers on the other side of the glass. A nagging irritation perched on the back of his neck. He narrowed his eyes. Legolas was sure that one of those behind the mirror had a bandage across his face.
Old Took sat at the table looking sleepy. In front of him was an evidence bag containing the elf’s two pistols taken from the apartment. The injustice of the situation was more than annoying. Was it time to fight back?
As if sensing his client’s discomfort, the old hobbit patted the tabletop and pushed out the chair. Then the door opened again and Davis walked in.
"I’m sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen."
Old Took nodded and made a soft gesture of dismissal with his small hand.
"Well, I protest," Legolas flared. "I’ll not be watched like a beast held in a cage."
The lieutenant rubbed the bridge of his nose. He flicked his index finger and Legolas watched the gallery behind the mirror empty. Only then did the elf take his seat. The lieutenant sat finally too. He appeared tired and dispirited.
"Nights are long around here, gentlemen. I have only so much manpower. If you and your society friends can’t play together like good boys, I’ll get both of you. Now cut to the chase and tell me what’s going on."
Old Took answered, "Would you be so kind as to read the charges against my client?"
"Attempted murder, for one. Stalking, threatening gestures, making verbal threats against the life of one Nathan Fenton. Oh, Mr. Fenton swears he saw you with a crossbow in the park where he was jogging this evening. A moment later, two arrows thumped into the tree trunk he was passing."
"They are called bolts. Crossbow arrows are either bolts or quarrels," the elf said patiently.
Davis frowned. He asked, "You are admitting some knowledge of crossbows?"
"Most children from my era would know the same information."
"Common knowledge then?"
"Yes."
"And are they easy to aim and fire?"
"They are hard to load and prepare for firing. After that, they are simple enough and highly accurate."
"Have you ever fired a crossbow."
"On occasion over the last few thousand years," Legolas said looking sidelong at the officer, keeping his gaze unfocused, memories in his mind’s eye instead of the present circumstances.
"Did you shoot at Mr. Fenton?"
"No. If I had…"
"Legolas, please," Old Took whispered. "Calmly, old friend."
"Are you a good shot, Mr. Greenleaf?"
Legolas smiled, his grin feral and his eyes frosty as the wolf moon’s gleam.
"I am an excellent shot."
"With pistols too?"
"I’ve been known to hit the bullseye at a thousand yards if I know the weapon and its peculiarities."
"So, your defense rests on the assumption that if you were trying to kill Mr. Fenton, you would not have missed. Is that it?"
"Don’t answer that, Mr. Greenleaf," Old Took cautioned. "Your own words can be twisted into a hangman’s knot."
Legolas glared and remained silent. He glanced out the window. He heard nightingales singing.
*******
Lieutenant Davis escorted the prisoner to another area. Men were undressing and donning prison garb. An orange cover-all was tossed to the elf and he was ordered to take off his silk robe.
"I'm truly sorry about this," Davis said. Then he turned on his heel and departed.
Legolas stood blinking, facing yet another officer, this one wearing surgical goggles, a mask and surgical gloves.
"Open your mouth."
Legolas complied, mutely submitting to the indignities of a strip search.
"Bend over, sir, hands on the wall, feet at the line."
The cool, gloved hand slipped down his flank, over his tight buttocks and entered him suddenly. The elf gasped and stood shaking. He heard the mocking laughter of other prisoners. Legolas willed his blood to flow, forcing it away from his crimson cheeks.
"Get dressed. Then, line up over there."
9 - In the Cage
"Hey, Goldilocks. Wha’chew in fo’?" asked a tall thin man who swaggered as he walked.
Legolas attempted to ignore the whistles, the low purring sounds and the unwanted attentions of his milling cell mates.
"Where’s yo’ sugar? He comin’ ta get ya? I be yo’ daddy, if’n he don’t," whispered a man with tight, curling, black hair.
"Eh, mamacita," a brown man called. "Doan’ listen to them. Juanito will wa’chout for chew."
The small brown man danced closer and slipped his hand around narrow elven hips. Legolas spun out of range and glared at the others.
"He no wanna play wi’ chew, Juanito," snickered another brown, tattooed man.
"I don’t want to play with any of you," Legolas spat. "Stay away from me."
"An’ why should we? You bad?" asked another.
"Are we to go into formal introductions then?" Legolas parried.
"Why not?" the tall man said with a menacing grin. "We’re all in here together. So we might as well get cozy. My name’s Black Pete, like the pirate. Grand theft auto’s the crime, but it’ll never stick. I got three Lincolns and a Caddy Eldorado waitin’ fo’ me when I get out."
The brown man said, "My name’s Juanito El Toro Martin de la Cruz. My gang busted up a bar las' night."
Legolas couldn’t help smiling. These men were so proud of their nefarious deeds. He raised his eyebrow and said, "My name is Legolas Greenleaf. I’m a war veteran and I’m charged with attempted murder. Of course, I’m innocent."
He got just the reaction he wanted. Peals of tension relieving laughter.
"We are all inocente, vato," Juanito said. "Come, take a seat. I bet you tell a good story. I hear all the others already."
Pushing and shoving other inmates aside, Juanito startled a small sleeping pile of rags on a dim lower bunk. A startled snort and a curiously familiar string of curses issued forth.
"A dwarf?" Legolas asked.
"Eh, doan mind him," Juanito said. "They live in the park. This one came in drunk."
"A moment, gentlemen," Legolas said. "I must speak with him."
The others stepped back. Cautiously the elf laid his hand on the thick shoulder. He shook the heavy body. More snorts and cursing. Legolas smiled.
"I be careful…" a voice from the crowd warned. "They bite."
"I have one of my own," Legolas replied softly. "I know their habits well."
With gentle prodding, the dwarf sat up. He had mats in his beard and bits of leaves and twigs in the mats. His large red nose and bright rose complexion marked his common condition, too often inebriated. Legolas sighed and shook his head.
"Friend," he said in dwarven. It was one of a few words Gimli had taught him. "How did you reach this deplorable state?"
"Huh?" the dwarf answered, his breath a foul alcoholic breeze.
For some reason, the rest of the men in the cell gave Legolas his space with the old dwarf. They watched curiously without comment. Whether out of some forgotten respect or pure apathy, they did not intrude upon the meeting.
"Were you and your comrades drinking in the park last evening?" Legolas asked.
"Aye, round a big campfire."
"Did you see anything unusual? Anyone creeping through the underbrush?"
"No, only Bomberson, the first to fall to the bottle."
"Are you happy the way you live?" Legolas whispered.
"Work would be better. We miss working the mines."
"I’ll come looking for you. When I get out, and you are in the park. Do you understand me? I can get you work."
"Aye, you’re Gloinson’s elf, aren’t you?"
"Yes, I am. We’ll help all of you, if you wish it."
"The old days…long gone."
"Yes, they are."
The old dwarf slipped back into sleep, his head pillowed on Legolas’ thigh. The men in the cell drifted away into small knots. Some of them leaned against the bars of their cage, anxiously gazing down the hall for legal salvation. Legolas slept in the elvish way, walking once more in a dream of Greenwood the Great.
10 - The Offer
“Well, it’s arrived,” Old Took said, tapping the dwarf out of a sound sleep. “Everything in about six pages. The plea bargain, the offers made by Ms. Winsom to drop their charges if we drop ours and agree to pay her client a tidy sum for pain and suffering. Care to take a look, Gimli? I’ll need your advice before I show this load of rotten cabbages to Legolas.”
“Show me.”
“Let me lay it out for you on the desk.”
Gimli got up, found a fresh cup of coffee at hand, and called his job foreman. He told him to take charge of the site for the day and to be prepared to complete the job on his own if need be. The president of Khazad Khonstruction was taking a few personal days.
Then Gimli stood shoulder to shoulder at the big desk with the old hobbit. Took’s hands were smaller and finer, his face rounder and beardless, definitely a Took through and through, from curly blond head to curly blond toes.
Toes in strange shoes, of course, Gimli noted. Even hobbits wore shoes these days. Concrete and glass, gravel and asphalt were unforgiving, unlike grass and deep soil. Gimli’s thoughts wandered among the groves in Lorien. Grass and trees, how Legolas must be suffering locked away from the sun and his beloved greenery.
“See?” Old Took said pointing a finger at a line of fine print. “When you get down to the bottom line, they want fifty thousand to drop all charges, including the attempted murder. They’ll admit they didn’t see who shot the crossbow and it will be put down in the records as accidental horseplay by an unknown individual.”
“Fifty thousand, ye’ say?” Gimli coughed. “For a broken nose?”
“I know it’s a bit like extortion. And he’ll not be fined for what he did to his horse. Agreeing will get Legolas out of jail immediately and that may be what you both want most. Of course, elves can be stiff-necked I’m told.”
“So can dwarves. Is there no other offer we can make counter to theirs? And, it’s not the money but the principle of the thing.”
“I’ll make a counter offer, if you feel Legolas can endure one more day and another night in jail. We must check on him later this morning for his answer. Give him all the options. We’ll only have a few minutes. That’s why we must hash things out first. Give him what we think logical and to the point.”
“Aye,” Gimli said. “Yet in all my years, I’ve rarely known a logical elf. All high minded they become when they get riled up.”
“It is his decision. I’m his counsel, but he’s the one who must stand before the judge for sentencing.”
Legolas planned to call Dol Amroth. Do you think the Prince could put some pressure in the right places?”
“Judges don’t like to be pressured. It will be better to wait. I’ve spoken with the mayor and he’s appalled. Even so, his hands are tied. He must not interfere with justice. Don’t worry though. There will be no underhanded tricks within the court. The mayor and the press will see to that.”
“In all our years in Middle Earth…”
At that moment the front door opened and the current owner of the name Merry Brandybuck burst into the office.
“I’ve got some very curious information, sir,” he shouted. “I’ve been playing polo! I took the liberty of borrowing one of Samantha’s ponies and I moved in over at the club. Everyone is buzzing with gossip about the row between Fenton and Greenleaf. I’ve even learned who whacked the ball that hit Mr. Greenleaf’s leg. It seems that Wynona Faye Winsom has a brother named Reginald Fernwood. He was riding one of Mr. Fenton’s horses on the day in question. Sure sounds like a set-up to me.”
“My good hobbit!” exclaimed Old Took. “So that’s where you’ve been. Bless your curly toes!”
Next: Parts 11 - 20
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