Legolas stood uncertainly around the bar. How did Boromir talk me into this?

'Don't worry, Legolas. You'll be a natural,' Boromir assured him, patting him on the shoulder.

'Are you sure about that?'

'You'd better be—I recommended you. Besides you have everything it takes, good looks, a nice smile, a charming personality, a quick fist if you need it.' He glanced quickly to the back room to make sure his manager hadn't heard his last comment.

Legolas looked at him, startled.

'That was a little joke; I haven't had to punch any one yet. It's actually a very civilized bar.' Boromir looked around the dimly lit room. 'No trouble, really.'

'Good.' What would my father say? His only son, the Prince of Greenwood working as a waiter at a common bar? It would be beyond his comprehension. The elf shook his head and turned as the manager walked back in.

'Well, Derek,' he said to Boromir, his eyes barely lifting off the book he was carrying, 'I'm glad you thought of that friend of yours. I loved him. He was just what we were looking for…let me see, 7 or 9?' He shook his head at the little book. 'Someone self assured and not too young, but not too old either.' He scribbled something down on the book.

'Mr. Smith?' Legolas asked.

Mr. Smith looked up. 'Yes? Yes? 6 or 3…what is it?'

'When do I start?'

'Start? Oh, start, yes, yes, you can start tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow, no, no, tomorrow is Sunday isn't it?'

'No, Mr. Smith, tomorrow is Tuesday.' Answered Boromir.

'Tuesday. Yes, you can start on Tuesday. Tomorrow isn't it?'

'Yes, sir,' said Legolas.

Mr. Smith nodded his balding head, his blue eyes sparkling. 'Do you…I have forgotten your name?'

'It's Edel, sir. Edel Greenleaf.'

'Edel, that is an unusual name. Yes, yes, very unusual, I don't usually hear that name.' He wrinkled his nose for a moment and made a mark in his book. 'But no matter…must be 5…it is a good name. What was I saying?'

'You were going to ask me something.'

'Oh, yes, yes, I was, wasn't I? I was going to ask you…4, 5, or 7? Too soon to tell…if you cared for Sudoku?' He shook the little book he was carrying. It was open to a page printed with a grid partially filled with numbers.

'I don't know, sir. I have never heard of Sudoku before,' Legolas answered truthfully.

'Haven't heard of Sudoku? What do you do with yourself? How do you occupy your free time?' Mr. Smith shook his head solemnly. 'It's a great shame, a great shame indeed.

Ah-ha! 4!'

Boromir smiled at Legolas. Crazy, isn't he? The Elf read in his eyes.

'Sudoku is a number game, very good for the mind, keeps it sharp!' He smiled at Legolas. He was a skinny man, short and lithe, with very pale skin. '8, 8, it could be 8…it is absolutely essential to keep your mind sharp, especially in old age, that way…I knew it was 8…you can concentrate on things…9, of course…and not let your life slip away unnoticed.' He nodded again, cheerfully. 'If 1 went there then 5 would go there and…it was very nice meeting you…and if 5 went there then 4 would have to…and I am looking forward to seeing you tomorrow…but it's too soon to tell, too soon…well, I suppose that is all, come back tomorrow, tomorrow, your shift starts at 5…7, of course!'

'It was a pleasure meeting you, sir,' said Legolas with a bemused smile.

'The pleasure was all mine, Edel…if only I knew what went there…'

'Good-night, Mr. Smith,' said Boromir, pulling Legolas towards the door.

'Good-night, Derek, remember your new shift starts at 5 too! 5 to 12, my good man…7 or 3?…because you can handle pressure…4…it was just my luck to find you, good-night!'

Legolas and Boromir stepped out into the cooling night. 'Is he always like that, Boromir?'

'Yes, he is quite something.'

'What is this Sudoku he was doing?'

'As far as I can figure,' said Boromir with a smile, 'it's his life.'

'Is that why he calls his bar 9 Numbers?'

'I think so, at any rate, he's obsessed.'

They walked in silence for a while.

'It won't be such a hot night, tonight,' remarked Legolas, for the sake of conversation.

'No, it has cooled down a lot, hasn't it?'

Legolas nodded and looked up at the sky, it seemed somehow more distant then he had ever seen it before. He reached a hand up to it, stopping for a moment on the sidewalk. 'Are they there?' he whispered.

'Are what there?' asked Boromir, fidgeting a little over the stares they were getting.

'The stars?'

'Yes, they're there, but there aren't as many, or they can't be seen as well, because of all the lights, I think.'

'I love the stars.'

'Of course you do, you're an...' He caught himself, pulled Legolas's hand down and hurried him along.

'Where are we going so fast, Boromir?'

'Home.'

'But I don't want to go home, I want to be outside. I've been caged up too long.' He took Boromir by the hand and started to pull him in another direction.

Boromir stood his ground. 'No, Edel, we are going home, cities are dangerous at night.'

'But I love the night, Boromir.'

'My name is Derek and we have to go home, now.'

Legolas sighed deeply. 'Is it really that dangerous?'

'Yes, it is. We could be robbed, or worse.'

'Have they no law here? Besides which, I haven't got any money.'

'That doesn't matter.'

'Why do you get to take walks at night, and I don't? That doesn't seem fair, even if you are a man. Besides our shifts are going to end at 12, we'll be walking at night then, I have to get used to it.'

Boromir nodded reluctantly. 'Fine, I suppose you're right.' He walked along silently.

Legolas walked slowly watching everyone and everything. 'Derek,' he said after a moment, 'how do you suppose we know the language?'

Boromir shrugged, 'I don't know. I don't know how we got here. It's probably some sort of magic, you should know more about it than I do.' He kicked at a pebble lying by his foot.

'What do you think about…here?' Legolas looked around him trying to find words for what he felt, his thoughts being drowned in the immensity of the city.

'This city is nothing in comparison to Minis Tirith.' Boromir declared. 'Have you ever seen my city?'

The elf shook his head. 'Nay, I have not traveled so far.' He frowned at the sky. 'Tell me about it.'

Boromir's face became solemn and he peered ahead of him as if he were trying to see through time and distance, through some great, unknown division that lay between him and his home, through the very essence of reality to a land that he had once walked upon now brushed aside as the wild imaginings of a dead man. He shuddered.

'You should see it,' he said, looking down at the sidewalk. 'This city falls short in more ways then I can count. Minis Tirith is armed; this city lies open to attack; it is sprawling and dirty, unplanned and unkept.' He kicked at a Styrofoam cup lying on the cracked sidewalk. 'It's people do not care for it, they pollute it and dirty it, they do not fortify it and I have seen none who bears arms, there is no guard. They call it a city? It would fall under any assault,' he scoffed. 'Minis Tirith is strong and planned, beautiful and enduring, it has held itself for centuries, and it will for centuries to follow, but,' here he broke off and fell to his own musings. 'We have defended the rest of Middle-earth against Sauron while they have stood by and done nothing.' He was talking to himself. 'I do not understand.' His voice caught and he fell silent.

'I am sorry, Boromir. Truly I am. I did not wish to trouble you,' Legolas said in a whisper.

Boromir turned to him. 'Do not apologize, it is not your fault.'

Legolas gave him a sad smile and turned away.

Boromir caught him by the arm. 'Legolas, Edel, let me apologize in truth. I am sorry for the way I spoke to you last night; my scorn was uncalled for. My apology was not what it should have been.' His voice was proud, but truth lay in his eyes.

'I apologize also,' said Legolas. 'I have scorned you as well without reason; it was not right of me. Do you forgive me?'

Boromir nodded. 'Yes, I do.'

'And I forgive you as well.'

They returned again to silence. The man from Gondor walked with such purpose, his eyes troubled by his thoughts, but his feet firm and his mouth set. Legolas watched him, trying to fathom him; he had never understood Boromir—his scorn for the Elves, his steadfast determination not to believe the counsel of Elrond and Mithrandir, coupled with his good nature and wish to protect those weaker than himself had left Legolas quite at a loss. He seemed so kind, and yet, something about him troubled him…something in his eyes.

'Derek, let's go somewhere with trees.'

'Trees?'

'I miss trees.'

'Edel, we ought to go back.'

'I must see a tree or I'll die!' Legolas exclaimed, his eyes pleading for understanding.

Boromir looked about and noticed a small tree that had been planted by the roadside a little ways off. 'There's a tree,' he said, pointing.

Legolas looked about quickly. 'A tree!' he cried, rushing to it.

Boromir followed him.

Legolas smiled at the tree. 'Hello, my friend,' he said in Elvish, 'how are you today? You are very young, my friend. Can you breathe here? Do your roots reach deep down? Are they wide? Will you grow tall and strong, shading this street? Will you cast shade in the summer so that all will love you? Do you have any friends? Are you lonely? Do you miss the forest as I do? Have you never seen it? Is this where you must live? Will you stay here now? Is the world cold?' Tears filled his eyes. 'Do you not belong here, as I do not?'

He felt a hand on his shoulder, Boromir had come up behind him and he stood there now, concerned. 'Edel, we should go back.'

'It is so alone,' whispered the elf, running his fingers gently along the tree's trunk.

'Yes, isn't it?' Boromir pulled Legolas away. 'Come on, let's get going.'

Legolas looked at Boromir, his hair was falling in a tangle across his face where the wind had blown it, his eyes were both troubled and nervous, his lips twitched in uncertainty. He held the elf's arm tightly, and Legolas could feel the strength in his hand, and yet, he seemed, for a moment, so fragile. As if he would break at any moment and everything about him would be shown to the world in a moment of blinding, agonizing truth. Their eyes met and for a moment Legolas read his every fear and the pain in his heart he read his homesickness and his desires, he read his longing for the ring.

Boromir broke the gaze and took a hurried step back.

Legolas stood frozen, his eyes fixed ahead of him. 'Boromir,' he whispered.

Boromir walked away towards home, his head held high.

The elf followed him. 'Boromir, you don't…'

Boromir turned on him. 'What were you doing? Reading my mind? Do you think you know me now?' He caught the elf by his shoulders.

'Boromir, I never thought,' Legolas murmured, his eyes searching the man's face.

'Don't look at me like that! You can't really profess to be so utterly innocent. No wrong thoughts, no wrong desires, working gladly for the greater good. You can't fool me, Elf. I know what you are.' He released Legolas roughly and turned sharply away.

'But it is evil!' Legolas cried, chasing after him.

Boromir caught him again, his nails digging through the elf's white sleeves. 'Have you no words of your own? Have you no mind?'

'Boromir, I do not understand.'

'Of course you don't, you were never taught how to think.' He held the elf tighter. 'All you know are the words that were told you, have you never considered the good that the 'evil ring' might accomplish?'

'Boromir, this is folly.'

'It is only folly because it is beyond your comprehension? Do Elves only see matters as simple cases of right and wrong? Do you never see the middle ground?' His eyes were shining fiercely now, and his breath came fast and heavy.

Legolas shook his head. 'Those are words that Sauron set on your lips, you do not believe them.'

Boromir laughed. 'Sauron? Sauron? Here there is no Sauron! He is the brilliant imaginings of a crazy author! As am I! As are you!'

Legolas felt the man's heart beating fast in his chest; he struggled to free himself. 'Let go of me!'

'As is the ring.' Boromir's voice had dropt to a barely audible whisper. 'Or so Aragorn has told me. And so you believe.' He released the Elf's arms and tilted his chin up. 'Do you not?'

'I do not know. Boromir, you are confusing me. Please, stop. Tell me what the matter is.' Legolas stepped away from him.

'I have lost everything.' Boromir hissed. 'Or is that not enough reason to mourn? Perhaps we should hew a tree, perhaps that would be reason to weep.' He caught the elf's fair face between his two hands. 'Answer me, Prince of Greenwood!' The fire in his eyes blazed, his fingers pressing tightly on the elf's cheeks.

'Elbereth Gilthoniel!' Legolas cried his voice marked by terror.

Boromir dropped his hands down, stiff at his sides. His eyes were glazed with fear.

Legolas stared at him in disbelief, his eyes wide and his breath quick. 'You frighten me.'

There was a scattering of applause from the bystanders, who seemed very much pleased for a bit of well-acted entertainment to enliven their evening. 'Bravo!' a young woman called, laughing a little.

Boromir was the first to react; he caught Legolas's hand and dragged him quickly away from the amused onlookers, hurrying them down the street. They broke into a run and didn't stop until they reached their apartment building. There they halted by the door, and Boromir turned to Legolas yet again.

'Please,' he entreated, 'I did not know what I was saying. I do not believe that. Please, do not tell Aragorn, there is no need.'

Legolas watched him, and slowly agreed. 'I won't, Boromir, at least not now.' He stood uncertainly in the cool shadows.

'Thank-you,' said Boromir, taking his hand.

Legolas drew his hand away. 'We had better get inside.'