Legolas Greenleaf, Agent of MESS, in

You Only Live Forever


Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, which is why I am posting it on this site. Legolas and associated characters were created by JRR Tolkien. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig.

Author's Notes: This is a sequel to my previous fic "Legolas Greenleaf: Agent of Mess, in Ringfinger" and also "Kill Me Tomorrow". I would advise you to read at least the former first, as certain plot threads are picked up here. As in that fic, this is an AU where Legolas (known as Greenleaf in the style of Bond) is a secret agent for MESS, the Middle Earth Secret Service.

Huge thanks to Julia for beta-ing this for me and gleefully pointing out my typos.

Thanks also to everyone who read and reviewed "Kill Me Tomorrow": Empress of Alvarra (more Bond title puns coming up –just look at this chapter!), Nemo Returning (you want me to kill Red Cap...? Hmm), THECheeseTurkey (wow, thanks! [blushes]), and theinklesspen (I wasn't planning on doing more than one chapter to Kill Me Tomorrow, but after what Nemo Returning said...well, I'm thinking).

Enough of my verbosity. Here it is, the one you've all been waiting for! (well, maybe) Sit back and enjoy!


Chapter 1. On Her Ladyship's Secret Service

There are times in every secret agent's life when he is treated like royalty. The red carpet would be rolled out, and everything provided for. These were the times that Legolas Greenleaf cared the least for. Born a prince, he had had his fill of such treatment. The life of a royal was not for him; he preferred to avoid such.

It was to this end that he now patrolled the Western borders of Lothlórien with the Marchwarden, Haldir. They passed silently among the trees, keeping their keen eyes on the area they covered. Haldir's brothers, Rumil and Orophin, were to the South, positioned near the banks of the Nimrodel. A light wind played with the trees, setting their branches dancing. The pair walked beneath them on their patrol.

Greenleaf enjoyed this duty. As he was not a Lórien Elf, he was not obliged to take up the task, particularly in the light of his secret work. But still he would do it, when available. He had made good friends with Haldir and the other wardens, and friends were always useful. The feeling of being out in the woods, in the fresh air with his bow on his back was the best sensation he found when not away on a mission. It was also a useful excuse to get out of attending dinner parties or the suchlike. Tonight was a tiresome-sounding drinks party held by Lord Celeborn, in honour of a visiting dignitary: Lord Elrond of Rivendell. Greenleaf had been to enough of these to know that Celeborn would be at his most formal in a most tedious manner. The Lord was good enough company when relaxed and partially drunk, but he had something of a tendency to make mystical comments when stressed. Tonight, Greenleaf was more than happy to remain on patrol.

"Quiet tonight," he commented, standing beside Haldir. The Marchwarden had stopped on the edge of a small clearing.

"Indeed," he said, "we can probably sit here for a bit." He sat down on the floor by a tree.

Greenleaf dropped gracefully beside him. "I swear," he said with a grin, "that you never smile." It was a popular pastime for him and others to try and get a rise out of the sometimes pompous warden. There were several bets going among the more junior wardens.

Haldir turned to look at him askance. "Really?" he asked, with a faint edge to his voice. "Well, we can't all go around grinning like fools."

"Better something of a fool than a complete misery," Greenleaf countered, lying back on the grass.

"Well, laugh away, Master Jester," Haldir said, the side of his mouth twitching slightly, "but I shall remain taciturn."

"Careful, oh strong and silent one, that was almost a smile," Greenleaf told him. "Even among friends you can-." He paused, sitting up abruptly.

"What?" Haldir asked, his entire stance becoming suddenly more alert.

Greenleaf cocked his head. "Yrch," he whispered, his body tensing. He pulled his bow from his back, standing as Haldir did likewise. They crept around the clearing, heading in a southerly direction after the company they could now hear. Clanking of armour and occasional grunts led them forward until they could see the creatures.

"Uruk Hai," Greenleaf muttered, recognising the foul orc crossbreeds. He had seen their type before, when fighting the wizard Saruman. But Saruman was dead, so somebody else must have been breeding the creatures. Haldir touched his friend's hand to get his attention.

"See their badges," he said, pointing to a red mark on the orcs' skin.

"A red eye," Greenleaf breathed, realising its significance, "Sauron."

Even as he said it, they heard cries from ahead and the unmistakeable whistle signifying danger. The orcs charged forward.

"Rumil and Orophin," Haldir said. He and Greenleaf sped through the trees without another word. The Marchwarden's two brothers stood back to back in a circle of orcs. Both had their bows in their hands, and were shooting down as many orcs as they could, but they were grossly outnumbered. They could only shoot for so long before their arrows ran out and they were left with their swords, which required close quarter work. With only a glance at each other, Greenleaf and Haldir split up, taking different sides of the orcs. Greenleaf took the right hand flank, mindful to say unseen.

He picked all his targets with care, and not an arrow was wasted. His first line of attack was to climb partway up one of the trees and to feel orcs in the centre of the battle. Looking across, he could see Haldir doing the same. Both kept moving from tree to tree, never presenting a stationary target to any orc who was intelligent enough to look up. White-fletched arrows were soon protruding from the bodies of several orcs. Between the four of them, the Elves had shot down well over half the company, but the creatures had finally noticed that several of the shots were coming from above.

Greenleaf pulled back, aimed and fired another arrow, downing another creature. Another arrow was on his string almost instantly, but even as it was he felt a tug on his ankle. He looked down in time to see the face of an orc contorted into what he presumed was a grin as it yanked him from the tree branch. Twisting with the momentum, Greenleaf stabbed the orc in the throat with his arrow. He was able to land in a crouch beside its dead body, puling out his knife as more of the creatures headed for him. A quick glance assured him that the other three Elves were fine. He then focussed his attention on the orcs nearest him.

Well-trained, he went straight for their weak points: armpits and neck. Ducking below a wild swing, he thrust up and slashed across, opening up two of the creatures' throats. The rest were dispatched in no short order. Orcs, though vicious and free of conscience, were not the best of killers when faced with proper fighters. They could be clumsy as their rage got the better of them. They were perfect when destroying settlements, murdering unarmed and defenceless people, or fighting in huge armies. They were made for huge numbers, and their ability for cunning was somewhat lacking. The company was soon routed by the four Elves. Those who were not killed had run.

Haldir jumped down from his tree. He went straight to his brothers to check on how they were. Rumil had a long cut down his forearm, but the bleeding had almost stopped. Orophin had already begun to bandage it. Greenleaf strode over to one of the orcs who was still breathing, albeit raspily. He leaned down to stare it in the face. It wasn't a pleasant sight. Its usually foul countenance was made even more hideous by its wounds. Greenleaf gripped it by the hair.

"What do orcs want in the Golden Wood?" he asked, spitting in its face.

It gave no reply, but merely chuckled, blood running down its chin. Greenleaf rested his knife against its neck, pressing it ever so slightly.

"Tell me and I shall kill you swiftly," he promised, "else you die painfully. Tell me!"

Again there was no reply. The orc slumped in the Elf's grip, now beyond answering any questions. Greenleaf dropped it contemptuously, re-sheathing his knife at his side. He walked over to the other three Elves. Haldir looked worried.

"That's a far bigger company of orcs than we've had come visiting for years," he said.

"I think they were probably after something specific," Greenleaf said, though he didn't voice exactly what his suspicions were. The only thing in Lórien that he knew of and that orcs –or, at least, the orcs' master- would want would be the ring. The small, insignificant-looking circle of gold that he had retrieved from Saruman earlier that year, which was by all reports the final part of some plan of Sauron's. And if the crime boss was sending orcs into Lórien, all so clearly marked with his red eye insignia, then it was obviously very important to him. Important enough for him to risk showing his hand. That made him desperate, and dangerous.

"She's going to want to know about this," Greenleaf continued, "come on."


It was only a day after the orc attack when Greenleaf was called back into G's office. He strolled through the office of Miss Evenstar, G's secretary.

"Straight on in, Legolas," she told him, batting her eyelashes, "she's got others in there too."

"Really?" he asked, pausing. "Who?"

She shrugged. "Don't know. I didn't see them. I was in the bathroom."

Smiling, Greenleaf walked through the padded door to the office, mentally shaking his head at the folly of women. G's office was the same as ever; sparsely decorated, with the main feature being the large desk in the centre. G herself, the Lady otherwise known as Galadriel, stood behind it, dressed in her usual white dress. She nodded a greeting as the Elf entered, which he returned, before taking notice of the others in the room. One was a Man, dressed in worn leathers, with his chin coated in stubble. It was Aragorn, with whom Greenleaf had ventured into Isengard to defeat Saruman. Greenleaf respected him and his abilities, and was glad to see him again. The other in the room he was not so glad to see. At first he didn't even notice him, as the Elf's eyes were looking at head height. But looking down, he saw. A Dwarf stood beside the Man, short and stocky in his chainmail. He and Greenleaf eyed each other, both apparently surprised.

"These are the two who you will be working with on your next mission, Legolas," G said.

"A Dwarf? Greenleaf asked, unable to stop himself.

"An Elf?" the Dwarf asked, at the same moment.

"My reasons will become clear," G answered rather testily. "Aragorn you already know. This is Gimli, son of Gloin, of the Lonely Mountain. Gimli, this is Legolas Greenleaf, agent 0011. You will work together, do you hear?" She gazed at each in turn. "Your group codename will be 'Hunters'.

"As you all now know, Sauron has been making advances on Lothlórien, the latest of which was the attack yesterday. He has grown bold indeed to make such a move. Which means that he needs what we have: namely, the ring. So, we're sending you to find Sauron, so we can try to bring him down."

Both Aragorn and Gimli looked at her in consternation. Greenleaf, ever the professional, stayed emotionless.

"How will we know how to find him?" the Man asked.

"The orcs were seen coming out of the Mines of Moria. You three will go into the Mines. That, Legolas, is why I'm sending Gimli with you."

Greenleaf nodded. "But Sauron won't have his base this close to Lórien," he reasoned.

"No," she replied, "but it is likely that he's using the Mines as a temporary, or outreach base. You'll have to be careful; try not to be seen. Your job is just to find out where Sauron's base is."

"It's in Mordor, isn't it?" Aragorn asked. "Away to the East."

"So our surveillance tells us," G answered, "but Mordor is a large place. We want more detailed information on exactly where; information that you'll hopefully be able to find in the Mines. Rumour has it that Sauron's base is hidden in Mordor somewhere, and not in his tower, Barad-Dûr. You three will enter Moria by stealth tomorrow night. Travel there tonight, scout out the area during the day tomorrow, and then go in through Dimrill Dale. Is that clear?"

All three nodded. Greenleaf and Gimli eyed each other surreptitiously.

"Good," she said, "U has some things for you downstairs. Good luck, all of you." With such a clear dismissal, they headed for the door. "Oh, and Legolas?" she continued. "A word please."

Allowing Aragorn and Gimli to go past him, Greenleaf turned back to G. The lady's face was calm and serious, as beautiful as it ever was.

"Do make an effort to co-operate with Gimli," she said gently, "your team needs to work together if you are to succeed."

Greenleaf paused before answering. He didn't want to question G –she was his boss after all, even if she was a woman- but still. "Since when have I worked with a Dwarf?" he asked bluntly.

"Since now," she told him firmly. Seeing his expression, she continued. "Do not be too quick to judge him. He is more worthy than you give him credit for."

"I will do it," he said, "for you, and it is my job, after all."

"Of course," she said, smiling, "and Legolas, be careful."

"Of course," he replied, grinning in return, "you always say that, and aren't I always?"


Greenleaf only laughed, going out of the door. G watched his back as he left, hair swinging behind him.

"But you'll need to be this time," she muttered.

He caught up with Aragorn and Gimli just along from U's room. Remembering G's words the Elf made an effort not to scowl outright at the Dwarf. Gimli had no such compunction. From under his red hair he sent a glare of vicious intensity the other's way. Ignoring it, Greenleaf spoke to Aragorn.

"How have you been?" he asked. "I have not seen you since we returned from Isengard."

"Fine," Aragorn replied, "I've mostly stayed in Rivendell. I've done a lot of paperwork, worse luck. It's good to have some action. You?"

"The same. You'd never have thought an organisation like this would have such amounts of paperwork." Greenleaf sighed. "At the moment there's some group lobbying for less paper, particularly as the stuff's made from trees. But of course, they write all this on pamphlets, which means more paper."

Aragorn chuckled. "I can see how that's a problem," he said.

"Never let me become a paper-pusher," Greenleaf warned as they entered U's room, "it might drive me to do something very unsociable and violent."

He glanced around, always interested in what the wizard and his assistants were working on. One Elf carried a pitcher, from which he poured water onto a tray, and then proceeded to use it to talk to another Elf on the other side of the room. Greenleaf had seen this before. It was the MIRROR: Message Intercom Receiver, Regardless Of Range. It was good for sending emergency communication, but could be unreliable, due to its tendency to broadcast other things. G had one permanently in her rooms, in which she kept an eye on events happening in Middle Earth. Presumably U was trying to improve their reliability for mass communication.

U came through the door on the opposite side to the trio. He was a tall, grey-clad wizard, with long hair and beard. He was otherwise known as Gandalf, the Istar. Greenleaf had great respect for him, knowing that the old wizard was indeed formidable despite his kindly demeanour. His twinkling eyes could become steely in a moment if the situation demanded. Seeing Greenleaf, Aragorn and Gimli, he strode over.

"Good, good," he said, rubbing his hands, "G told me about your mission. This way."

He led the three down a corridor. Gimli had to hurry to keep up on his short legs. They stopped in a small room, where U went to a cupboard and pulled out two cloth-wrapped objects. He placed them on the table in the centre of the room, unwrapping first one then the other. They were like glass stones, about the size of a human palm. At first they appeared clear, but closer examination revealed strange lights within.

"These are based on the design of the palantíri," U told them, "though in a smaller, more compact form. One will stay here, and the other you shall carry. You can use it to get in touch with us here."

He wrapped one up again and placed it in a small pouch, which he handed to Greenleaf. The Elf took it, feeling the solid weight in his hand for a moment before hanging it from his belt. It rested against his hip on the opposite side to where his knife hung.

"Now come along," U continued, sweeping out of the room and motioning for them to follow. "Legolas, you've still got your Lórien Elf-hair, haven't you? Good, I'd hate to have to replace that quite so soon. Aragorn, you've got that rather wonderful sword, if I remember rightly. And Gimli, you favour axes, I presume? Excellent. No need for arming you then. Just one thing here; a moment."

He darted into a side room, coming out an instant later with some folded grey material. He handed this to Gimli.

"A Lórien stealth cloak," he explained, "it makes it very tricky for enemies to pick you out when wearing this. It's designed to help you blend in with your background. Legolas, Aragorn, you've both still got yours? Good. Now come on, keep up." He led them further down the corridor to the stables.

"Aragorn, you'll be taking Hasufel. You get on fairly well with him. Legolas, you've got Shadowfax again. It seems he's the only horse who you haven't managed to frighten the living daylights out of. And you'll have Gimli riding behind you."

"What?" Greenleaf was unable to prevent his reaction, despite of what he had said to G.

"I have to ride with an Elf?" Gimli spat. "It's bad enough that I have to ride at all!"

"Therein lies your answer," U said dryly, "Dwarves are not experienced with horses, therefore you must ride with another. And Shadowfax is the strongest we have."

Greenleaf simply rolled his eyes, resigning himself to it. Gimli scowled from under his bushy hair.


Additional notes (or, random mini-essay thing that I happened to write): It's easier than you might think to draw parallels between James Bond and The Lord of the Rings, and not only through the characters. On one level (and I'm being very careful how I say this) LOTR can be seen as an allegory for World War I, or even WW2. And looking at it all in that mindset, lines can start to be drawn. James Bond was a man of the Cold War era, when the enemy was the big Russian bear away to the East (but I'm not saying anything bad about the Russians!). And the Communist colour was red (as is the Labour party's), like the red eye of Sauron. The Shire is (tongue firmly in cheek) plucky little Britain (because we're all fat with hairy feet, obviously) and the Riders of Rohan and such are maybe the Magyar (Hungarian) horsemen, showing two fingers to their Mordor oppressors (like Hungary in 1956 –except Rohan won. Then again they had outside help. Sorry to go on, just something I studied). Anyway, the point of all that is, well, nothing really. I just wanted to point it out, explain stuff (and sound clever). I'm a sad bastard sometimes.