[FIC] Middle Earth Hustle - 1/10 - Aragorn/Legolas
Title: Middle Earth Hustle
Author: Minka
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I own nothing, blah blah
Warning: Modern cop AU, random crack, swearing, a somewhat serious parody if that is even possible, high level realistic violence, unresolved (and most often awkward) Aragorn/Legolas sexual tension, Legolas is a BAMF.
Summary: For centuries the MEPA has watched over the people of Middle Earth, none so diligently as sharpshooting Detective Greenleaf. Unparalleled in skill, his dedication to his cause, however, is put to the test upon meeting his new partner; a dense, mangy shagpile of cheap cologne and e-cigarettes.
With the prospect of his shining career being over in a puff of Athelas flavoured smoke, the young elven investigator sets out to once and for all prove that he works better alone. But with the discovery of a deadly new drug on the streets and a bloodthirsty gang closing in, even Legolas has to question if he’s bitten off more than he can chew.
Author’s Notes: Someone, somewhere in the midst of tumblr madness, posted a prompt up ages ago about Legolas and Gimli being unlikely cop partners in a modern AU world were all the Middle Earth races still existed. Unfortunately my mind automatically crossed out Gimli and substituted him with any number of other people which is exactly what happened here. It was then that my old OTP came up to bite me in the ass. So while everything in this is of my own creation, I did draw inspiration from that original prompt.
Thus, Random Tumblr User, wherever you may be, this one’s for you! Sorry about the lack of Gimli.
IMPORTANT: As you should already be aware, this is a modern AU. It is with that in mind that I’ve described all the settings. Middle Earth still stands as per map, but instead of a world try to look at it as a sprawling city. For instance (and a lot of this will make sense as you read) Mordor is still wasteland, the Shire is just that; the farming outskirts of the city. Rivendell has been reinvented into the city’s large hospital. The rest of the places are like districts (think London or Tokyo). Mirkwood would almost be Notting Hill/Shibuya, Minas Tirith is the business district (Shinjuku) while Osgiliath on the other side of the river is kinda the seedy slums (Kabukicho). Moria is the industrial sector etc. Put your trust in me; it makes sense as you read. ;)
While I don’t think I mentioned it in text, the MEPA is in Lorien.
Also, I am fully aware that Legolas’ name translates into ‘Green Leaf’ however he’s a cop and he needs a last name. So for the sake of this crazy idea, his name is officially Detective Legolas Greenleaf. It was that or ‘Gumshoe’ so I think we can all agree that Greenleaf sounds much better. =)
*****
Chapter One
The Newbie
In which Detective Greenleaf meets his undoing.
*****
“So, what’s the plan?”
Legolas blinked, his head tilting to the side as he took in the figure that had spoken to him in an upbeat, questioning tone. Oh no. Said figure waved slightly, as if to get his attention, and Legolas shook his head slowly. Just no. There was no way this side of Mordor that he was going to suffer through this… this disgrace!
Turning on his heels, the blonde stalked straight back through the door he’d just come through, much to the seated occupant of the room’s horror. The plastic shutters cluttered against the badly frosted glass as the door slammed shut behind him; all things that the seated elf tried his best to ignore.
A moment of silence passed. Well, not full silence. The blinds that hid the interior of the small office still rattled in the wake of Legolas’ desolation and every few seconds or so the seated man leafed through another page of recycled office paper. However, like all things, even this tranquil standoff had cause to come to an end and when it did, it was just as loud and explosive as the seated elf had expected.
“Surely you jest!” Legolas all but shrieked. His hands, balled into fists, came crashing down on the large oak desk. A pile of paperwork to the left shook, as if in fear, before finally succumbing to gravity and sliding downwards. Like a rockslide, the paper collected speed and bowled over objects, a wooden plaque being one of them. The half full coffee cup was saved from the same devastating assault by a quick, pale hand.
“Surely you jest, sir,” the seated elf corrected. To better prove his point, the index finger of the hand not clenching his mostly cold coffee, pointed out gracefully to not-so-gracefully poke Legolas’ clenched fists off his desk. He then straightened up his disrupted name plaque.
‘Celeborn Galadhrim, Superintendent. Middle Earth Protection Agency.’
Placing the mug down on the desk closer to his left, well out of the way of Legolas’ explosive reactions, Celeborn noted that the younger elf did naught other than roll his eyes and nibble on his bottom lip in regards to Celeborn’s check on his manners. Young ones these days, so disrespectful.
“Have we not already been over this, Legolas?” Celeborn asked in that tone you could only master after centuries of talking people around in circles. It was the sort of question that encouraged most people to nod and agree out of fear that they would be proven intellectually void when pitched against a superior mind.
Legolas, of course, was not most people and Celeborn cursed that fact as Legolas’ head tilted to the side, his eyes locking with Celeborn’s own. Much like how Celeborn had used ‘that tone’ on the younger elf, said younger elf used ‘that look’ on Celeborn. It was the one that intelligent people gave to other intelligent people; it said ‘don’t speak to me like I’m a fucking moron, you idiot!’ and for better or worse, Legolas had that look down pat.
Sometimes Celeborn swore that life would be easier if Legolas was as blonde in the brain as he was of hair.
“Legolas,” Celeborn started slowly; diplomatically. He looked up from his paperwork and placed his hands down on the desk, palms upwards. Open and inviting; friendly and soothing body language used to pacify scared children and wild animals though right now Celeborn wasn’t so sure which one Legolas really was. “In light of Tauriel,” Celeborn worked to choose his words carefully, “you need a new partner.”
Legolas shook his head at that. “Tauriel will be fine. She just needs a little rest.”
Celeborn blinked. Then blinked again. Apparently they were going with scared child today and while part of Celeborn was glad that his desk wouldn’t be subjected to any more outbursts of Legolas’ rage, another part of him lamented. Scared child took so much more time to deal with than quick, furious, wild anger.
“Legolas,” Celeborn reasoned, “she was shot…”
“Merely a flesh wound!” the blonde argued, throwing his words in the middle of Celeborn’s calm explanation.
“…they had to amputate her left arm!”
“A minor setback,” Legolas’ face screwed up in irritation even as his mouth ran wild, speaking what he already knew to be utter horse shit. “…It could grow back…”
Celeborn had to look away before his eyes expressed his want to burst out into laughter. He busied himself with the folder he’d previously been looking at and tried to remind himself to be gentle. Legolas had been very fond of Tauriel. Of all the detectives’ previous partners, she was the one that had not only matched Legolas in skill and motivation, but also just lasted the longest. For better or worse, Legolas didn’t have the best track record in keeping people around.
“Legolas,” Celeborn tisked, his head shaking from side to side as he leafed through a manila folder. “You’re being completely irrational.”
“Unreasonable,” Legolas corrected. “I’m being unreasonable. And rightly so. Even you know a one armed Tauriel would be better than that… that… that thing sitting in her chair.”
“That ‘thing’,” Celeborn corrected, “is a man. And one that comes highly recommended. His feats as a Bondsman of the North are unmatched.”
“Bounty hunter,” Legolas scoffed the more derogatory term for freelance law enforcers. “Scourge of our existence.” Not that Celeborn was about to make a point out of it but Legolas really did have a point there. Bondsmen, or Rangers as they preferred to be called, really did have a way of making the MEPA’s job a lot more difficult at times. Still though, Celeborn could see the merit in having one of them on board even if it was simply to learn their tricks of the trade so the MEPA could better avoid dealings with them in the future.
“Besides,” Celeborn motioned to the file he was reading with his hand, as if Legolas could also see the words, “he is the foster son of Rivendell’s Chief of Medicine.”
“Oh, right,” Legolas exclaimed, his arms sprawling through the air in a sign of exasperation. “His father’s rich and powerful so let’s just hand him a job even though he’s barely out of his diapers! I thought this was meant to be a fair, non-discriminatory workplace.”
“Now you’re just being rude, detective,” Celeborn rebutted, his brows furrowing together as a scowl crossed his ageless face. “Perhaps it’s time to consider your own lineage, Thranduilion.”
At that Legolas rolled his eyes and huffed, his arms finally stilling as they came to cross over his chest. “He doesn’t count.”
“He’s the mayor!” Celeborn pointed out with no lack of disbelief at Legolas’ nonchalant diminishing of his own position in Middle Earth.
Legolas’ father, better known as Thranduil and often referred to as ‘Your Highness’ or ‘Your Majesty’ and even ‘Your Supreme Majestic Highness’ was the be all to end all around these parts. Everyone loved him. In fact, not two years past when the MEPA had taken down a black market ring, Legolas had been most distraught to find pin-up posters of his father on the walls of some of the younger gang members. Orc gang members. Needless to say a sizeable part of his paycheque since had been going straight to Gandalf, the department’s shrink where Legolas was invited to ‘talk about his feelings’. For a hefty price, of course.
But Thranduil. Tall, beautiful, regal and with just enough cutting sass to hide his lack of intelligence (though that was purely in Celeborn’s opinion) Mayor Thranduil was as good as being a rock star. The people either adored him or loved to hate him; either way, both sentiments kept his ratings high and for reasons that Celeborn couldn’t quite fathom, Thranduil was voted in mayor term after term after term. It made no sense. The only justifiable reasoning Celeborn could see was related to Thranduil’s eyebrows and that was a low point of group astuteness if Celeborn ever saw one.
“And a drunkard,” Legolas spat, “and an arrogant diva,” he continued, his eyes opening wider as they rolled heavenward, his arms once again moving to have his hands flaring out in front of him, as if better to prove his point. The way his head wobbled in the process had Legolas reaching a slender hand up to hook the braids of his platinum hair with his pinky finger in order to remove them from his eyes. He tossed his long hair behind his shoulders before once again huffing, his arms crossing over his chest and his right hip jutting out.
For his part, Celeborn wisely closed his mouth before he could speak. As his chest rose he drew in a deep breath and as he exhaled the negative energy, he was once again reminded of the overwhelming amount of similarities that Legolas shared with his celebrity status father. He was also reminded that bringing up said similarities was not wise for his mental health. After all he still had an outstanding appointment with Gandalf that he was required to take after the last time he’d suffered, less than quietly, through one of Legolas’ epic ‘I am not my father’ rants.
“Besides,” Legolas went on, not at all seeming to notice that Celeborn hadn’t contributed to the conversation. “I didn’t need a paternal handout to get this job. If it was up to him then I’d be dressed in nothing but Val-Armani suits and doing feature spreads with Elf-Times.” The mayor’s son pouted in a way that cameras would have loved as he made his argument and for a moment, Celeborn actually felt a pang of sympathy for the younger elf. It couldn’t have been easy for Legolas growing up alone with just Thranduil for inspiration and guidance and as uncharacteristically caring as it was for Celeborn, he did marvel at how the young detective had managed to find such a different life-path than his illustrious father.
“I’m the best you have, and you know it!” And then, right there, Legolas went and ruined it by proving that humility was something that clearly didn’t run in the family.
Then again, the sad truth of the matter was that Legolas spoke in earnest. He was the best they had, and that was no small compliment. The MEPA only took the crème de crème of each race but everyone knew that Glorfindel’s tragic accident involving an inundated beaver not two years past had bumped Legolas up to top spot. He had an uncanny eye for detail, never letting clues pass him by and, some swore, he had a sixth sense for when the scum of Middle Earth were on the move. He could sniff a weapons deal out from miles away and his natural ability to detect danger always kept him two steps ahead. Then there was his wildly celebrated marksmanship; he could shoot the eye out of an orc scout through the hole of a Cheeto. With his eyes closed.
In fact, the only downside to this particular detective was his unveiled intolerance for races other than elves. That and the fact that his partners had a tendency to get shot. And maimed. Sometimes killed. Sometimes not always in that order either.
Celeborn got it, he really did. At least, he understood as much as he needed to. Being Legolas’ partner couldn’t be easy and in a way he felt sorry for every unsuspecting cop Celeborn had signed off on. With Legolas it was all work and no play. He hardly slept and Celeborn knew for a fact that the younger elf had less fun then he himself.
Strength; hope; valour and deeds that would be forever remembered. Protect the innocent and save the weak. That was what Legolas was all about and when he spoke those words and tossed his hair and smiled, his eyes sparkling like blue diamonds, people - partners included - generally turned themselves into human shields simply to protect the ‘glimmering prince’ as he was rather irritatingly, aptly nicknamed.
As much as he claimed to be nothing like his callous father, Legolas was the type that wanted for nothing. Celeborn was sure that he’d never paid for a single cup of coffee in all his years on the force and it surely had nothing to do with his record of closing every case he worked. When he wasn’t verbally raging or dragging perps into the bull pit by their ears, Legolas was actually quite charming. He had a way with words and knew how to work a room. Pair that with the harrowing good looks he’d inherited from his father and pretty much everyone in Middle Earth was at his mercy.
In fact, Celeborn was fairly sure that he was the only one who’d met the elf who hadn’t disgraced himself by falling head over heels and sprouting words of love and throwing flowers at his feet.
Of course there was the one time at the department Christmas party a century ago when Celeborn had consumed far too much wine and he may have…
Shaking his head free of his troubling thoughts, Celeborn looked back up at the younger elf and set his jaw into place. He would not be moved on this subject. He’d signed off on the paperwork; Legolas would just have to find a way to make this new partnership work.
As if reading his very mind, Legolas started again. “What about Haldir? He’s a worthy choice and after that incident with his partner’s very poor choice in companions then he’d be in need of a replacement as well, correct?” Celeborn still felt sorry for Haldir. Not every day you found out your partner was in fact an orc in disguise sent to infiltrate the MEPA. Especially not after that same Christmas party when Haldir and said partner had been found making out in the stationary cupboard.
“Please, sir,” Legolas continued and Celeborn was sure that the younger elf only ever used his manners when he was desperate and sure he’s other wiles couldn’t win. “Sir, please. You know it’s a good match. We’d be unstoppable together and there’d be no funky business in the stationary cupboard because he’s old. But we’d be great-”
“Detective!” Celeborn interrupted against his better judgement. It wasn’t often that the son of Thranduil resorted to outright pleading and Celeborn was snide enough to wish that there’d been at least one other person to witness this defeat.
“My decision is final. You will partner with this,” he paused to flick back through the manila folder he’d been perusing, landing on the first page and skimming to the man’s name. “Estel Aragorn Dúnadan Thorongil Strider Elessar Telcontar Longshanks…” Again Celeborn paused, his regal eyebrows moving closer together as his face scrunched up in distaste. Was that all one name? Or did this man have more personalities than Thranduil on a three week bender? “…Man,” he finally said, “and that is all there is to it. Now, good day.” And with that Celeborn did the thing that he loved the most. Lifting his right arm, his ducked his head slightly and made a dismissive flapping motion towards the door with his hand. It was a clear indication to get the fuck out and leave him alone.
He didn’t stop waving his hand until after the door slammed closed again and even then he stopped simply to catch his coffee mug before it rattled off the cabinet.
*****
Looking at the dirty man that sat with his boots up on Tauriel’s desk and an electronic cigarette in hand, Legolas knew that life was over.
“Everything all good?” the human asked, his eyes darting from Legolas to the door he’d tried to slam off its hinges.
Looking the man over, Legolas felt his heart sink. The human looked like he was hardly a day past his twentieth birthday. Though that apparently didn’t stop the man’s hair from being long and unruly or his face from being covered in a dark scruff. He couldn’t even get that right. Somehow it managed to fall halfway between a five o’clock shadow and a becoming a beard.
“No,” Legolas sighed. Moving across the small office, he screwed his nose up before swatting the man’s feet off his partner’s desk with disdain. The human looked shocked, the chair rocking dangerously close to pitching him off and Legolas found himself matched with a small pout as the man looked up at him.
Not giving the man the pleasure of a response, Legolas schooled his features as he then plucked the electronic cigarette out of the stubble covered mouth. He held the offending thing between his thumb and forefinger, looking at it like it was a servant of Mordor as he tried to work out what to do with it.
In all honesty he had no clue how to make the aberrant thing stop billowing out e-smoke. Stubbing it out anywhere sure wasn’t going to help and there was no way that Legolas was touching the end that had been in the human’s mouth. Those creatures carried disease.
Shit out of ideas, Legolas merely tossed the device over his shoulder. The e-cigarette sailed through the air and went straight out the one slightly opened window in the whole office; a testimony to his impeccable aim.
“Hey!” The human exclaimed. With all the grace of a cave troll he staggered out of his seat with a flurry of his out-dated leather trench coat and raced towards the window as if he could undo what had just been done. Secretly Legolas hoped that the man would be that forlorn about the loss of his precious vile contraption that he might just jump out after it.
“What did you do that for?”
Legolas moved to his desk, ignorant of the large, pleading eyes turned upon him, and took his seat. Pulling open his filing draw, he pulled out the last file he and Tauriel had been working on and plonked it down decisively on his desk. He still had to write his final report and if there was one thing that Legolas really hated, it was paperwork. Especially when said report involved touchy subject matter. Not only was it the first one in decades that he hadn’t closed within a week, but he felt like he owed it to his partner - ex-partner apparently - to tie in all the loose ends. Retribution for the ill done to her.
Flicking it open, Legolas propped his chin up with his hand and started skimming through his notes. It was during this scrutiny that he felt, or maybe smelt, the human siding up to his desk. Barely suppressing a shiver at the man’s proximity, Legolas tried to bite down the ire he felt heating his blood.
Honestly, Legolas wasn’t racist. He had a number of non-elven acquaintances, some of which were even human. They made excellent informants, dirty things that they were, and even better spies. Always willing to go crawling around in places that no self-respecting elf would and even more eager to sell out a friend for the right price; humans could be quite useful and honestly, they weren’t quite as bad as dwarves though most tended to be just as dirty. Not that Legolas was all for social segregation, but he had to admit that it was handy that the humans kept to their side of the city and the dwarves kept to their dank recesses.
The human’s face floated in between Legolas and his file, clearly trying to get his attention. “Ok,” the man said and Legolas sat further back in his chair just to get away from his hovering face.
“Clearly we got off on the wrong foot,” the man continued and Legolas had to bite his tongue not to comment that they’d gotten off on the wrong feet. Both of them. Plural. On Tauriel’s desk. Had he spoken he also would have added that perhaps that plural of ‘foot’ should take a walk straight out the front door and forget the way back.
Legolas had to fight hard not to chuckle at his own train of thought.
“My name’s Aragorn, but a lot of people just call me Strider.” Legolas looked at the hand that was unceremoniously thrust into his personal space and blinked. The man wanted to shake? Maybe Legolas should have held off on throwing the cigarette out the window until the human was ready to play fetch as well.
Blinking again, Legolas eyed the hand and then shifted further back into his chair. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a small smile stretching across the human’s face. It angered him.
“Now would be the opportune moment for you to introduce yourself as well…” the human prompted. Legolas merely blinked again, his eyebrows furrowing into a dark line across his forehead. “Or… not…” the human kept talking. “I mean, you’re Legolas. The Legolas. Everyone knows you. Your work is unmatched.” Legolas watched as the man screwed up his face and shook his head slightly, his hand moving to rub at the back of his neck. “I’m ranting, I’m sorry. It just, well, it really is an honour!”
Deadpanning, Legolas nodded curtly once, a drawn out ‘ah’ passing his lips as he quickly assessed the man’s clear lack of mental capabilities. “Petty flattery will get you nowhere,” Legolas said while standing. He needed to get out of here and fast and he demonstrated as much by brushing coldly past the human and heading for the door.
“That wasn’t my intent!” the human said, following Legolas across the room. Legolas tried to ignore the man the best he could as he pulled his forest green woollen peacoat down off the rack. Buttoning up the double breasted buttons, he popped the large collar up before pulling his long blonde hair free.
“I mean,” the human was still talking and as Legolas reached for his scarf, he was pretty sure that he was getting an eye twitch each time the man opened his mouth. “I meant what I said, but I wasn’t trying to needlessly flatter. You must get that all the time. Not that your work doesn’t deserve praise, because it does, but flattery because of how you look. Oh god, not that there’s anything wrong with the way you look. I mean, you’re beautiful; unless you don’t like being called beautiful in which case you’re just pleasant. But in a pleasing way. I mean…”
Blinking once, Legolas fixed his eyes on the door and let out a deep breath as he pulled his gloves out of his coat pocket. It wasn’t that cold out and of course being an elf he hardly felt the weather anyway which was a blessing unto itself. Never getting hot or cold opened up a whole wide range of interesting fashion choices. It was with that in mind that Legolas slowly pulled on his brown suede gloves. If he remained calm and kept himself occupied with his own thoughts then he would survive this verbal disruption peacefully and appropriately.
“…I mean…”
And then Legolas snapped. Who the hell was he kidding about being peaceful and appropriate? Whirling around in flurry of green and brown, Legolas regarded the human for all of a second before, without any preamble at all, his lifted right hand snapped into the human’s nose.
The human looked shocked for a moment, his hands almost making it to his bleeding nose before his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell, like a stiff board, backwards to the floor.
For a brief moment Legolas thought that he might have lost his mind completely but his inner monologue corrected him. Oh no, this was perfect. When asked later, as he no doubt would be, he’d not be telling a word of a lie by saying that he had a momentary slip of sanity, no memory of hitting the man and no idea of how much force he’d put behind it.
“Do you hear that?” He asked no one in particular. If temporary insanity was his plea then he may as well make it solid and start talking to himself. “Silence!” he exclaimed happily, his arms waving in the air as if heralding the second coming of the Noldor.
And with that he turned his back on the human, opened the office door and stalked out towards the blissful freedom of the elevator.
From within his office, Celeborn sighed and shook his head at the sound of a body hitting the floor and the clear lack of Estel Aragorn Dúnadan Thorongil Strider Elessar Telcontar Longshanks’ voice afterwards.
Apparently scared child had turned into wild, destructive animal after all.
*****
On the next episode of Middle Earth Hustle:
The superintendent cleared his throat and Legolas noted the way his eyes shifted between the two of them edgily. “You two,” Celeborn addressed them with a critical eye, “have your first case.”
“I’ve had plenty,” Legolas pointed out helpfully.
“Together!” Legolas flinched at the bitten tone of the other elf as well as just how quickly he spat the word out.
*****
Comments, thoughts and opinions greatly welcomed!
Author: Minka
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I own nothing, blah blah
Warning: Modern cop AU, random crack, swearing, a somewhat serious parody if that is even possible, high level realistic violence, unresolved (and most often awkward) Aragorn/Legolas sexual tension, Legolas is a BAMF.
Summary: For centuries the MEPA has watched over the people of Middle Earth, none so diligently as sharpshooting Detective Greenleaf. Unparalleled in skill, his dedication to his cause, however, is put to the test upon meeting his new partner; a dense, mangy shagpile of cheap cologne and e-cigarettes.
With the prospect of his shining career being over in a puff of Athelas flavoured smoke, the young elven investigator sets out to once and for all prove that he works better alone. But with the discovery of a deadly new drug on the streets and a bloodthirsty gang closing in, even Legolas has to question if he’s bitten off more than he can chew.
Author’s Notes: Someone, somewhere in the midst of tumblr madness, posted a prompt up ages ago about Legolas and Gimli being unlikely cop partners in a modern AU world were all the Middle Earth races still existed. Unfortunately my mind automatically crossed out Gimli and substituted him with any number of other people which is exactly what happened here. It was then that my old OTP came up to bite me in the ass. So while everything in this is of my own creation, I did draw inspiration from that original prompt.
Thus, Random Tumblr User, wherever you may be, this one’s for you! Sorry about the lack of Gimli.
IMPORTANT: As you should already be aware, this is a modern AU. It is with that in mind that I’ve described all the settings. Middle Earth still stands as per map, but instead of a world try to look at it as a sprawling city. For instance (and a lot of this will make sense as you read) Mordor is still wasteland, the Shire is just that; the farming outskirts of the city. Rivendell has been reinvented into the city’s large hospital. The rest of the places are like districts (think London or Tokyo). Mirkwood would almost be Notting Hill/Shibuya, Minas Tirith is the business district (Shinjuku) while Osgiliath on the other side of the river is kinda the seedy slums (Kabukicho). Moria is the industrial sector etc. Put your trust in me; it makes sense as you read. ;)
While I don’t think I mentioned it in text, the MEPA is in Lorien.
Also, I am fully aware that Legolas’ name translates into ‘Green Leaf’ however he’s a cop and he needs a last name. So for the sake of this crazy idea, his name is officially Detective Legolas Greenleaf. It was that or ‘Gumshoe’ so I think we can all agree that Greenleaf sounds much better. =)
*****
Chapter One
The Newbie
In which Detective Greenleaf meets his undoing.
*****
“So, what’s the plan?”
Legolas blinked, his head tilting to the side as he took in the figure that had spoken to him in an upbeat, questioning tone. Oh no. Said figure waved slightly, as if to get his attention, and Legolas shook his head slowly. Just no. There was no way this side of Mordor that he was going to suffer through this… this disgrace!
Turning on his heels, the blonde stalked straight back through the door he’d just come through, much to the seated occupant of the room’s horror. The plastic shutters cluttered against the badly frosted glass as the door slammed shut behind him; all things that the seated elf tried his best to ignore.
A moment of silence passed. Well, not full silence. The blinds that hid the interior of the small office still rattled in the wake of Legolas’ desolation and every few seconds or so the seated man leafed through another page of recycled office paper. However, like all things, even this tranquil standoff had cause to come to an end and when it did, it was just as loud and explosive as the seated elf had expected.
“Surely you jest!” Legolas all but shrieked. His hands, balled into fists, came crashing down on the large oak desk. A pile of paperwork to the left shook, as if in fear, before finally succumbing to gravity and sliding downwards. Like a rockslide, the paper collected speed and bowled over objects, a wooden plaque being one of them. The half full coffee cup was saved from the same devastating assault by a quick, pale hand.
“Surely you jest, sir,” the seated elf corrected. To better prove his point, the index finger of the hand not clenching his mostly cold coffee, pointed out gracefully to not-so-gracefully poke Legolas’ clenched fists off his desk. He then straightened up his disrupted name plaque.
‘Celeborn Galadhrim, Superintendent. Middle Earth Protection Agency.’
Placing the mug down on the desk closer to his left, well out of the way of Legolas’ explosive reactions, Celeborn noted that the younger elf did naught other than roll his eyes and nibble on his bottom lip in regards to Celeborn’s check on his manners. Young ones these days, so disrespectful.
“Have we not already been over this, Legolas?” Celeborn asked in that tone you could only master after centuries of talking people around in circles. It was the sort of question that encouraged most people to nod and agree out of fear that they would be proven intellectually void when pitched against a superior mind.
Legolas, of course, was not most people and Celeborn cursed that fact as Legolas’ head tilted to the side, his eyes locking with Celeborn’s own. Much like how Celeborn had used ‘that tone’ on the younger elf, said younger elf used ‘that look’ on Celeborn. It was the one that intelligent people gave to other intelligent people; it said ‘don’t speak to me like I’m a fucking moron, you idiot!’ and for better or worse, Legolas had that look down pat.
Sometimes Celeborn swore that life would be easier if Legolas was as blonde in the brain as he was of hair.
“Legolas,” Celeborn started slowly; diplomatically. He looked up from his paperwork and placed his hands down on the desk, palms upwards. Open and inviting; friendly and soothing body language used to pacify scared children and wild animals though right now Celeborn wasn’t so sure which one Legolas really was. “In light of Tauriel,” Celeborn worked to choose his words carefully, “you need a new partner.”
Legolas shook his head at that. “Tauriel will be fine. She just needs a little rest.”
Celeborn blinked. Then blinked again. Apparently they were going with scared child today and while part of Celeborn was glad that his desk wouldn’t be subjected to any more outbursts of Legolas’ rage, another part of him lamented. Scared child took so much more time to deal with than quick, furious, wild anger.
“Legolas,” Celeborn reasoned, “she was shot…”
“Merely a flesh wound!” the blonde argued, throwing his words in the middle of Celeborn’s calm explanation.
“…they had to amputate her left arm!”
“A minor setback,” Legolas’ face screwed up in irritation even as his mouth ran wild, speaking what he already knew to be utter horse shit. “…It could grow back…”
Celeborn had to look away before his eyes expressed his want to burst out into laughter. He busied himself with the folder he’d previously been looking at and tried to remind himself to be gentle. Legolas had been very fond of Tauriel. Of all the detectives’ previous partners, she was the one that had not only matched Legolas in skill and motivation, but also just lasted the longest. For better or worse, Legolas didn’t have the best track record in keeping people around.
“Legolas,” Celeborn tisked, his head shaking from side to side as he leafed through a manila folder. “You’re being completely irrational.”
“Unreasonable,” Legolas corrected. “I’m being unreasonable. And rightly so. Even you know a one armed Tauriel would be better than that… that… that thing sitting in her chair.”
“That ‘thing’,” Celeborn corrected, “is a man. And one that comes highly recommended. His feats as a Bondsman of the North are unmatched.”
“Bounty hunter,” Legolas scoffed the more derogatory term for freelance law enforcers. “Scourge of our existence.” Not that Celeborn was about to make a point out of it but Legolas really did have a point there. Bondsmen, or Rangers as they preferred to be called, really did have a way of making the MEPA’s job a lot more difficult at times. Still though, Celeborn could see the merit in having one of them on board even if it was simply to learn their tricks of the trade so the MEPA could better avoid dealings with them in the future.
“Besides,” Celeborn motioned to the file he was reading with his hand, as if Legolas could also see the words, “he is the foster son of Rivendell’s Chief of Medicine.”
“Oh, right,” Legolas exclaimed, his arms sprawling through the air in a sign of exasperation. “His father’s rich and powerful so let’s just hand him a job even though he’s barely out of his diapers! I thought this was meant to be a fair, non-discriminatory workplace.”
“Now you’re just being rude, detective,” Celeborn rebutted, his brows furrowing together as a scowl crossed his ageless face. “Perhaps it’s time to consider your own lineage, Thranduilion.”
At that Legolas rolled his eyes and huffed, his arms finally stilling as they came to cross over his chest. “He doesn’t count.”
“He’s the mayor!” Celeborn pointed out with no lack of disbelief at Legolas’ nonchalant diminishing of his own position in Middle Earth.
Legolas’ father, better known as Thranduil and often referred to as ‘Your Highness’ or ‘Your Majesty’ and even ‘Your Supreme Majestic Highness’ was the be all to end all around these parts. Everyone loved him. In fact, not two years past when the MEPA had taken down a black market ring, Legolas had been most distraught to find pin-up posters of his father on the walls of some of the younger gang members. Orc gang members. Needless to say a sizeable part of his paycheque since had been going straight to Gandalf, the department’s shrink where Legolas was invited to ‘talk about his feelings’. For a hefty price, of course.
But Thranduil. Tall, beautiful, regal and with just enough cutting sass to hide his lack of intelligence (though that was purely in Celeborn’s opinion) Mayor Thranduil was as good as being a rock star. The people either adored him or loved to hate him; either way, both sentiments kept his ratings high and for reasons that Celeborn couldn’t quite fathom, Thranduil was voted in mayor term after term after term. It made no sense. The only justifiable reasoning Celeborn could see was related to Thranduil’s eyebrows and that was a low point of group astuteness if Celeborn ever saw one.
“And a drunkard,” Legolas spat, “and an arrogant diva,” he continued, his eyes opening wider as they rolled heavenward, his arms once again moving to have his hands flaring out in front of him, as if better to prove his point. The way his head wobbled in the process had Legolas reaching a slender hand up to hook the braids of his platinum hair with his pinky finger in order to remove them from his eyes. He tossed his long hair behind his shoulders before once again huffing, his arms crossing over his chest and his right hip jutting out.
For his part, Celeborn wisely closed his mouth before he could speak. As his chest rose he drew in a deep breath and as he exhaled the negative energy, he was once again reminded of the overwhelming amount of similarities that Legolas shared with his celebrity status father. He was also reminded that bringing up said similarities was not wise for his mental health. After all he still had an outstanding appointment with Gandalf that he was required to take after the last time he’d suffered, less than quietly, through one of Legolas’ epic ‘I am not my father’ rants.
“Besides,” Legolas went on, not at all seeming to notice that Celeborn hadn’t contributed to the conversation. “I didn’t need a paternal handout to get this job. If it was up to him then I’d be dressed in nothing but Val-Armani suits and doing feature spreads with Elf-Times.” The mayor’s son pouted in a way that cameras would have loved as he made his argument and for a moment, Celeborn actually felt a pang of sympathy for the younger elf. It couldn’t have been easy for Legolas growing up alone with just Thranduil for inspiration and guidance and as uncharacteristically caring as it was for Celeborn, he did marvel at how the young detective had managed to find such a different life-path than his illustrious father.
“I’m the best you have, and you know it!” And then, right there, Legolas went and ruined it by proving that humility was something that clearly didn’t run in the family.
Then again, the sad truth of the matter was that Legolas spoke in earnest. He was the best they had, and that was no small compliment. The MEPA only took the crème de crème of each race but everyone knew that Glorfindel’s tragic accident involving an inundated beaver not two years past had bumped Legolas up to top spot. He had an uncanny eye for detail, never letting clues pass him by and, some swore, he had a sixth sense for when the scum of Middle Earth were on the move. He could sniff a weapons deal out from miles away and his natural ability to detect danger always kept him two steps ahead. Then there was his wildly celebrated marksmanship; he could shoot the eye out of an orc scout through the hole of a Cheeto. With his eyes closed.
In fact, the only downside to this particular detective was his unveiled intolerance for races other than elves. That and the fact that his partners had a tendency to get shot. And maimed. Sometimes killed. Sometimes not always in that order either.
Celeborn got it, he really did. At least, he understood as much as he needed to. Being Legolas’ partner couldn’t be easy and in a way he felt sorry for every unsuspecting cop Celeborn had signed off on. With Legolas it was all work and no play. He hardly slept and Celeborn knew for a fact that the younger elf had less fun then he himself.
Strength; hope; valour and deeds that would be forever remembered. Protect the innocent and save the weak. That was what Legolas was all about and when he spoke those words and tossed his hair and smiled, his eyes sparkling like blue diamonds, people - partners included - generally turned themselves into human shields simply to protect the ‘glimmering prince’ as he was rather irritatingly, aptly nicknamed.
As much as he claimed to be nothing like his callous father, Legolas was the type that wanted for nothing. Celeborn was sure that he’d never paid for a single cup of coffee in all his years on the force and it surely had nothing to do with his record of closing every case he worked. When he wasn’t verbally raging or dragging perps into the bull pit by their ears, Legolas was actually quite charming. He had a way with words and knew how to work a room. Pair that with the harrowing good looks he’d inherited from his father and pretty much everyone in Middle Earth was at his mercy.
In fact, Celeborn was fairly sure that he was the only one who’d met the elf who hadn’t disgraced himself by falling head over heels and sprouting words of love and throwing flowers at his feet.
Of course there was the one time at the department Christmas party a century ago when Celeborn had consumed far too much wine and he may have…
Shaking his head free of his troubling thoughts, Celeborn looked back up at the younger elf and set his jaw into place. He would not be moved on this subject. He’d signed off on the paperwork; Legolas would just have to find a way to make this new partnership work.
As if reading his very mind, Legolas started again. “What about Haldir? He’s a worthy choice and after that incident with his partner’s very poor choice in companions then he’d be in need of a replacement as well, correct?” Celeborn still felt sorry for Haldir. Not every day you found out your partner was in fact an orc in disguise sent to infiltrate the MEPA. Especially not after that same Christmas party when Haldir and said partner had been found making out in the stationary cupboard.
“Please, sir,” Legolas continued and Celeborn was sure that the younger elf only ever used his manners when he was desperate and sure he’s other wiles couldn’t win. “Sir, please. You know it’s a good match. We’d be unstoppable together and there’d be no funky business in the stationary cupboard because he’s old. But we’d be great-”
“Detective!” Celeborn interrupted against his better judgement. It wasn’t often that the son of Thranduil resorted to outright pleading and Celeborn was snide enough to wish that there’d been at least one other person to witness this defeat.
“My decision is final. You will partner with this,” he paused to flick back through the manila folder he’d been perusing, landing on the first page and skimming to the man’s name. “Estel Aragorn Dúnadan Thorongil Strider Elessar Telcontar Longshanks…” Again Celeborn paused, his regal eyebrows moving closer together as his face scrunched up in distaste. Was that all one name? Or did this man have more personalities than Thranduil on a three week bender? “…Man,” he finally said, “and that is all there is to it. Now, good day.” And with that Celeborn did the thing that he loved the most. Lifting his right arm, his ducked his head slightly and made a dismissive flapping motion towards the door with his hand. It was a clear indication to get the fuck out and leave him alone.
He didn’t stop waving his hand until after the door slammed closed again and even then he stopped simply to catch his coffee mug before it rattled off the cabinet.
*****
Looking at the dirty man that sat with his boots up on Tauriel’s desk and an electronic cigarette in hand, Legolas knew that life was over.
“Everything all good?” the human asked, his eyes darting from Legolas to the door he’d tried to slam off its hinges.
Looking the man over, Legolas felt his heart sink. The human looked like he was hardly a day past his twentieth birthday. Though that apparently didn’t stop the man’s hair from being long and unruly or his face from being covered in a dark scruff. He couldn’t even get that right. Somehow it managed to fall halfway between a five o’clock shadow and a becoming a beard.
“No,” Legolas sighed. Moving across the small office, he screwed his nose up before swatting the man’s feet off his partner’s desk with disdain. The human looked shocked, the chair rocking dangerously close to pitching him off and Legolas found himself matched with a small pout as the man looked up at him.
Not giving the man the pleasure of a response, Legolas schooled his features as he then plucked the electronic cigarette out of the stubble covered mouth. He held the offending thing between his thumb and forefinger, looking at it like it was a servant of Mordor as he tried to work out what to do with it.
In all honesty he had no clue how to make the aberrant thing stop billowing out e-smoke. Stubbing it out anywhere sure wasn’t going to help and there was no way that Legolas was touching the end that had been in the human’s mouth. Those creatures carried disease.
Shit out of ideas, Legolas merely tossed the device over his shoulder. The e-cigarette sailed through the air and went straight out the one slightly opened window in the whole office; a testimony to his impeccable aim.
“Hey!” The human exclaimed. With all the grace of a cave troll he staggered out of his seat with a flurry of his out-dated leather trench coat and raced towards the window as if he could undo what had just been done. Secretly Legolas hoped that the man would be that forlorn about the loss of his precious vile contraption that he might just jump out after it.
“What did you do that for?”
Legolas moved to his desk, ignorant of the large, pleading eyes turned upon him, and took his seat. Pulling open his filing draw, he pulled out the last file he and Tauriel had been working on and plonked it down decisively on his desk. He still had to write his final report and if there was one thing that Legolas really hated, it was paperwork. Especially when said report involved touchy subject matter. Not only was it the first one in decades that he hadn’t closed within a week, but he felt like he owed it to his partner - ex-partner apparently - to tie in all the loose ends. Retribution for the ill done to her.
Flicking it open, Legolas propped his chin up with his hand and started skimming through his notes. It was during this scrutiny that he felt, or maybe smelt, the human siding up to his desk. Barely suppressing a shiver at the man’s proximity, Legolas tried to bite down the ire he felt heating his blood.
Honestly, Legolas wasn’t racist. He had a number of non-elven acquaintances, some of which were even human. They made excellent informants, dirty things that they were, and even better spies. Always willing to go crawling around in places that no self-respecting elf would and even more eager to sell out a friend for the right price; humans could be quite useful and honestly, they weren’t quite as bad as dwarves though most tended to be just as dirty. Not that Legolas was all for social segregation, but he had to admit that it was handy that the humans kept to their side of the city and the dwarves kept to their dank recesses.
The human’s face floated in between Legolas and his file, clearly trying to get his attention. “Ok,” the man said and Legolas sat further back in his chair just to get away from his hovering face.
“Clearly we got off on the wrong foot,” the man continued and Legolas had to bite his tongue not to comment that they’d gotten off on the wrong feet. Both of them. Plural. On Tauriel’s desk. Had he spoken he also would have added that perhaps that plural of ‘foot’ should take a walk straight out the front door and forget the way back.
Legolas had to fight hard not to chuckle at his own train of thought.
“My name’s Aragorn, but a lot of people just call me Strider.” Legolas looked at the hand that was unceremoniously thrust into his personal space and blinked. The man wanted to shake? Maybe Legolas should have held off on throwing the cigarette out the window until the human was ready to play fetch as well.
Blinking again, Legolas eyed the hand and then shifted further back into his chair. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a small smile stretching across the human’s face. It angered him.
“Now would be the opportune moment for you to introduce yourself as well…” the human prompted. Legolas merely blinked again, his eyebrows furrowing into a dark line across his forehead. “Or… not…” the human kept talking. “I mean, you’re Legolas. The Legolas. Everyone knows you. Your work is unmatched.” Legolas watched as the man screwed up his face and shook his head slightly, his hand moving to rub at the back of his neck. “I’m ranting, I’m sorry. It just, well, it really is an honour!”
Deadpanning, Legolas nodded curtly once, a drawn out ‘ah’ passing his lips as he quickly assessed the man’s clear lack of mental capabilities. “Petty flattery will get you nowhere,” Legolas said while standing. He needed to get out of here and fast and he demonstrated as much by brushing coldly past the human and heading for the door.
“That wasn’t my intent!” the human said, following Legolas across the room. Legolas tried to ignore the man the best he could as he pulled his forest green woollen peacoat down off the rack. Buttoning up the double breasted buttons, he popped the large collar up before pulling his long blonde hair free.
“I mean,” the human was still talking and as Legolas reached for his scarf, he was pretty sure that he was getting an eye twitch each time the man opened his mouth. “I meant what I said, but I wasn’t trying to needlessly flatter. You must get that all the time. Not that your work doesn’t deserve praise, because it does, but flattery because of how you look. Oh god, not that there’s anything wrong with the way you look. I mean, you’re beautiful; unless you don’t like being called beautiful in which case you’re just pleasant. But in a pleasing way. I mean…”
Blinking once, Legolas fixed his eyes on the door and let out a deep breath as he pulled his gloves out of his coat pocket. It wasn’t that cold out and of course being an elf he hardly felt the weather anyway which was a blessing unto itself. Never getting hot or cold opened up a whole wide range of interesting fashion choices. It was with that in mind that Legolas slowly pulled on his brown suede gloves. If he remained calm and kept himself occupied with his own thoughts then he would survive this verbal disruption peacefully and appropriately.
“…I mean…”
And then Legolas snapped. Who the hell was he kidding about being peaceful and appropriate? Whirling around in flurry of green and brown, Legolas regarded the human for all of a second before, without any preamble at all, his lifted right hand snapped into the human’s nose.
The human looked shocked for a moment, his hands almost making it to his bleeding nose before his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell, like a stiff board, backwards to the floor.
For a brief moment Legolas thought that he might have lost his mind completely but his inner monologue corrected him. Oh no, this was perfect. When asked later, as he no doubt would be, he’d not be telling a word of a lie by saying that he had a momentary slip of sanity, no memory of hitting the man and no idea of how much force he’d put behind it.
“Do you hear that?” He asked no one in particular. If temporary insanity was his plea then he may as well make it solid and start talking to himself. “Silence!” he exclaimed happily, his arms waving in the air as if heralding the second coming of the Noldor.
And with that he turned his back on the human, opened the office door and stalked out towards the blissful freedom of the elevator.
From within his office, Celeborn sighed and shook his head at the sound of a body hitting the floor and the clear lack of Estel Aragorn Dúnadan Thorongil Strider Elessar Telcontar Longshanks’ voice afterwards.
Apparently scared child had turned into wild, destructive animal after all.
*****
On the next episode of Middle Earth Hustle:
The superintendent cleared his throat and Legolas noted the way his eyes shifted between the two of them edgily. “You two,” Celeborn addressed them with a critical eye, “have your first case.”
“I’ve had plenty,” Legolas pointed out helpfully.
“Together!” Legolas flinched at the bitten tone of the other elf as well as just how quickly he spat the word out.
*****
Comments, thoughts and opinions greatly welcomed!