"I attacked the Witch King of Arnor, the dreaded leader of the Nazgul, and lived to tell the tale! I opposed Sharky, aka Saruman the not-so-white and freed my people from the bondage of tyranny! I am Merriadoc the Magnificent and I will not cower in the grass like a…like a…a mouse fearing to become an eagle's next meal!"

So said Merry as he paced in the tall grass under the shimmering moonlight in the far north west corner of the meadow called Rabbit Lea. He was trying hard to work up the nerve to set out upon the path, which he now realised must be a bunny trail through the grass, after witnessing the demise of a helpless field mouse in exactly the manner described. This was frightening to the Hobbit because he was little more than rodent sized himself at the time. Taking several deep breaths he focused on his friends still trapped in the underground tunnels of the warren and forced himself to creep back onto the path. Clinging close to the verge, the brave halfling trotted forth in hopes of finding an elf, any elf at all, and getting aid for the kidnapped Kings, the twin Lords of Imladris, Gimli Lord of Aglarond, and ten anonymous soldiers of Gondor.

Unfortunately, nobody except the rabbits knew the layout of these bunny trails through the meadow and the poor Hobbit found himself zigzagging all over the field without ever really getting anywhere at all. The inhabitants of the warren did not actually leave the borders of their meadow, stopping where there was a small stream just beneath the encircling trees. At long last, which is to say as dawn was breaking on the very morning that the festivities were to begin, Merry reached this small brook and beheld it from a rabbit's-eye view. No wonder the bunnies stayed put, the brook might as well have been a mountain stream with raging category five rapids. And of course rabbits did not construct boats so there was no hope of him getting across without being swept away in the current and probably drowned.

"This is intolerable! I never minded being smaller than others before, but this is taking it too far!" Merry sighed and sat down on the bank dejectedly. "I wish Pippin was here."

"Greetings and salutations," sang out a small voice behind him and the Hobbit jumped to his feet, overjoyed to have been discovered at last. His jaw gaped when he turned to find he was being greeted by a lop-eared rabbit instead.

"Oh! You're talking! You're a rabbit and you're talking," he mumbled in dread as he backed away. After all, the other talking rabbits he had met thus far were insane and he had tried so hard to escape them! The brook blocked his retreat and he stood resolutely awaiting his doom.

Well we already know how the spider-bunnies, for it was one of them, react to being called rabbits, and this one behaved just so. "I am not a rabbit! What is wrong with you? Are you prejudiced against those with physical disabilities or something? Just because I am missing four of my legs and six of my eyes does not mean I have stopped being a spider! Honestly, some people are thoroughly rude! Didn't your mother teach you how to behave properly? And exactly what are you anyway? Are you one of those tree nymphs that makes the cookies?" Fortunately, bunnies do not have very large brains and even if infused with the Light of Valinor there is only so much intellectual capacity they can develop. So their attention span is short and they get rather easily side-tracked, which was very good for Merry.

"Ah! Yes, I am indeed one of the tree nymphs who bakes cookies. I have gotten lost, you see, while trying to get to the festival. We are not allowed to make ourselves visible to the elves, for they might make us leave our hollow tree homes. They get a bit protective of their trees," he lied, perceiving that the bunny was not wise to the fact that he had lately been a prisoner of the Harey Way.

"Oh, that's too bad!" said the bunny. "My name is Quick Weaver and I am going to the festival soon. I am sure my spider mother will let you join us if you would like."

"Why that is very kind of you," said Merry and made a polite bow. "I would be honoured to attend in the company of the spiders." Of course he thought he would be travelling with deranged rabbits until the spider-bunny completed her toilet, washing her 'vestigial legs' (her whiskers, actually) and taking a drink of the water, before leading him to the long string of spider silk from which she had descended. They did not climb up, however, for all around them the spider-bunnies and the golden real spiders were swinging down from the silken nest amid the tree limbs. The spider leader smiled at Quick Weaver as she approached (don't ask how a spider smiles, it is all in the arrangement of the eyes). She agreed to let the strange little tree nymph ride on her back with the rabbit.

Merry was very glad to learn that these spiders were benevolent and had no intentions of eating him. He began to see hope that he would free his friends after all.

The spiders had gone to great trouble to construct a fitting float for the Grand Procession. Using dead tree branches and their silk, they had made a huge canopy draped in lacy panels of spider netting with a large web across the front that said "Greetings and Salutations!" in the front and "Happy Mordor Gras!" in the back. There was also a sturdy mesh woven between the four branches supporting the canopy and upon this was piled a huge number of boxes containing the enchanted dancing shoes. Of course, the spiders knew nothing about that. Far Swinger had brought Sharp Tooth home for dinner one evening and the evil hare had used the visit to place his spell upon the spiders' gifts to the elves. Now, the spiders lifted the canopy onto their backs, secured it tight with more webs, and all the spider bunnies, along with Merry, climbed on board. Swift as their eight legs could travel the arachnids scurried to the staging area for the Parade and made it just in time, for the floats were already setting forth.

The parade was magnificent! Every elf in Lothlorien and all the visiting guests lined the sides of the central avenue, cheering and clapping as the floats passed by. The other floats' people were haphazardly flinging handfuls of brightly coloured beads out into the crowds. The spider-bunnies, however, were throwing the boxed dancing shoes. At first, folks did not appreciate getting whopped in the face with a cardboard box, but upon realising what they contained, began cheering even louder. Most folks believed the float represented Mirkwood, that is Eryn Lasgalen, and were duly impressed with the life-like spiders, though the purpose of the small rabbits was admittedly peculiar even for King Thranduil.

Slowly the procession wound its way toward Caras Galadon and all the while Merry was trying to figure out a way to get to the elves. He scanned the crowd as he passed, searching for familiar faces, and at one point spotted Legolas with one of Haldir's brothers, Merry could not remember this one's name, along with a group of elves the Hobbit had never seen. Legolas was half-naked, wearing his quiver strapped across his bare chest and holding his bow in hand, but what he had on below the waist Merry could not determine. In vain did the halfling jump up and down, waving his arms and shouting to get the Wood Elf's attention, for the noise and commotion of the crowd easily drowned him out. Legolas and his friends disappeared again amid the throngs of people and the parade moved on.

"Drat!" fussed Merry. "I need to get to the Lady of Light and tell her what has happened!"

"Oh, we are going to pass right before her viewing box," said one of the spiders. "We have an extra special pair of shoes for her and our leader wishes to thank her personally for granting us leave to come to the festival. You may be able to speak with her then."

Pleased with this news, Merry relaxed and joined in the box throwing with renewed gusto.

Meanwhile, Legolas, Rumil, Maedhred, Darwinor, Thurintû , and Dagrohîr were making their way through the throngs, trying to find Legolas' sister, Selldhuin. Since she was always looking for a story to broadcast they decided the quickest way to warn the populace of the evil intent of the visiting spiders and their pet rabbits was to get her onto the scent. Of course, they did not know that the spiders were ignorant of the plans of Sharp Tooth, for Legolas was still prejudiced against arachnids due to the great harm the creatures had inflicted upon Mirkwood. The archer managed to convince the others to his opinion, mainly because there was nothing else more logical to suggest. The trouble had started when the spiders arrived, as far as any of them knew.

Many people were distracted by Legolas and he was subjected to more than a few arse pinchings, caresses, and out-right gropings which he endured with good grace, but Rumil was not liking it one bit. Having just laid claim to the famous former Fellowship member he was feeling rather possessive and territorial. Finally, he had all he could stand when a friendly pat on the shoulder migrated down and turned into a nipple tug the made Legolas both wince and moan.

"Hands off!" Rumil shouted, slapping the offending elleth's clutching fingers. He grabbed Legolas by the arm and guided him to a tree, pressed him against it, and proceeded to create a huge purple passion mark on the Wood Elf's neck where everyone would see it. This elicited a lot of cheering from the onlookers and much ribald encouragement, including demands to divest Legolas of what little he was wearing and have at him right there in public.

"That is not a good idea, Rumil," Maedhred warned, a hint of sadness in his voice.

"Hey!" Thurintû shouted. "Hey!" He kept tapping Rumil on the shoulder sharply with his index finger but the former diplomatic in training was not paying attention, too busy enjoying the sensation of having Legolas at his mercy.

"Oh! Rumil, please," Legolas gasped out, squirming under the Galadhrim's hands and mouth. "Daro!" When Rumil ignored his pleas, Legolas got angry and shoved him off, scampering up the tree and into the branches where he quickly disappeared.

"Told you," shrugged Maedhred, "you can't handle Legolas like that. Good luck fixing that blunder."

"What, I was only making it so others would leave him be," argued Rumil. "He should be glad I've prevented anymore strangers from being so free with their hands."

And that was when Thurintû decked him.

Rumil really saw stars, just before he lost consciousness, and was thus spared experiencing the embarrassment generally accompanied by falling into a fresh pile of horse manure left by one of the animals used to pull the floats along.

"EEEWWWW! Smelly! Did you aim for that on purpose, Thurintû ?" asked Dagrohîr, snickering a bit for it was kind of funny even though he felt bad for both Legolas and Rumil.

Thurintû shrugged but also smiled and nodded, clearly indicating that he had not consciously planned the outcome but that he felt this had little to do with whether or not he had in actuality meant for Rumil to end up covered in horse poo. Seemed only right for someone intent upon making a spectacle out of having found favour with his great-nephew.

"Wonderful, now we have to carry him the rest of the way," complained Darwinor, glaring at Thurintû . He sighed and grabbed the Galdhrim's feet as Maedhred took hold under the arms and they heaved Rumil up. They made quite a little procession of their own, Dagrohîr with his shiny helmet and all. Without Legolas to distract them, the crowds of people began to laugh and make jokes at the group's expense.

"Valar, look at the Geek Squad! Hey, Maedhred, killed another one? Galadriel won't like it, spoiling her festival and all!"

"Oh, if it isn't Duhrohir and his friend Thrandimwit! They must've escaped from their padded cells!"

"Look! It's that Orc-lover, Darwinor! You can take those theories of yours and stick them right up your arse!"

"Thrandimwit, look over here you idiot," some uncouth ellon shoved the volatile elf roughly and waved his hand right under Thurintû 's nose. "How many fingers am I…"

The rude person quickly realised what a terrible mistake this was, for Thurintû , already edgy due to the close press of the crowd, lost control and attacked, knocking the offensive elf to the ground and pummelling him vigourously while shouting "Four, four fingers" at the top of his lungs. A huge brawl broke out as several elves attempted to pry Thurintû off and Dagrohîr naturally chose to defend his friend. Darwinor and Maedhred propped Rumil safely under a tree and jumped in too, hoping to extricate their comrades from the melee before anything worse happened. By the time the Wardens arrived, a full-fledged street war was in progress and many elves were arrested. Rumil, however, was treated as one of the victims and carried to the Lady's talan to recover.

The four geeks were put into a cell apart from the other miscreants for it was quite obvious that they were the principal instigators. At the same time, Darwinor was Celeborn's brother and Dagrohîr was Elrond's son, so it wouldn't do to have them harmed while incarcerated. Might start an international incident. Maedhred and Thurintû were universally feared, and indeed had done the moist damage during the struggle, and the Galadhrim decided it was best to let them remain with their cronies until the Lord and Lady decided what to do about them. Thus, they were still together when Elrond arrived to bail his wayward son out. (Yes, I know he went to Valinor, but he returned, as did Galadriel and Glorfindel, after the MPA's in the Undying Lands the year previous. He missed Arwen and his sons and wanted to spend time with Eldarion.)

"Ada! Ada!" Dagrohîr was overjoyed to see his father again, for it had been a year since their last visit. "Did you bring me a present? Maedhred said you would; did you?" The simple ellon quite forgot what sort of trouble he was in.

"Yes, Dagrohîr, I brought you a Solstice Gift." Elrond smiled and patted his son's head through the bars. Then he transferred his gaze to the supposedly mature and rational occupants of the cell, coldly glaring first at Darwinor before fixing his baleful glower upon Maedhred. "Is this how you protect my son from harm? You gave your word, Maedhred, but I suppose I should know better than to trust you! How could you permit your brother to be involved in such a dangerous situation?"

"Lord Elrond, I assure you this was not our doing," protested Maedhred. "Thurintû was attacked and…"

"Four, four fingers!" Thurintû jumped up and yelled through the bars. "Rumil bit Tharlabaron!"

"Be calm, Thurintû ," urged Darwinor. "He speaks truthfully, Elrond. This is all Rumil's fault. Legolas was granting us safe passage through the crowds when Rumil decided to maul him right in public. You know how Legolas feels about that sort of thing."

"Of course, and once he ran off that left the rest of you to the mercy of the mob," sighed Elrond, for he really did understand. "Very well, I will pay the bond for all four of you and have Erestor arrange for a plea bargain. You shall have to pay the fines on your own."

By this time the parade was over and the crowds were not so dense. Elrond led the bedraggled geeks to the center of the city where the square was dominated by a large stage festooned with banners and flowers. Lots of people were sitting in the seats, though no show was scheduled until later at noon-time, and even more were enjoying breakfast at one of the many open cafes situated around the periphery of the open air theatre. The Lord of Imladris bought everyone something to eat and listened to the entire story as they consumed the meal. He was recognised, of course, and quite a buzz began as many of the visitors were fanfiction writers and the Elf Lord was nearly a universal favourite among them. He smiled and nodded graciously, ever mindful of maintaining good rapport with his adoring fans, and posed for pictures. He even signed a few napkins for those bold enough to make the request.

"Now then," said Darwinor, "what is to be done? Clearly, some trouble is brewing and we are not in the best circumstances to prevent it."

"Especially since you have no idea what is going on," remarked Elrond with a snort. "Why didn't you ask Celeborn when you spoke with him earlier? If someone has used magic to imprison Aragorn and the others, the implications are dire. Look around you; there are thousands of people here from all over the world. Innocent people, many with families and children, my grandson among them. If someone wants to do harm, what better venue than this?"

"Yes, but I didn't know that until Legolas explained his experience and Maedhred discovered the disturbance," railed Darwinor.

"Sitting here bickering over it is pointless," snapped Maedhred. "We need to discuss this with the Lord and Lady. They may be reluctant to welcome Darwinor or myself, in light of Rumil's current state of unconsciousness, which will no doubt be blamed on us. Therefore, we appeal to you, Lord Elrond, to cast your lot with us. We need your help."

"You want me to join the Geek Squad?" Elrond exclaimed in horror. That was the sort of association that had a way of sticking once the connection was made in peoples' minds. He had spent literal Ages developing the persona of respected, revered, and sexy Retired Warrior/Lore Master/Healer. His whole childhood he and his brother had been jeered at for being half-elves and even quarter-elves, since they were twins and people were superstitious about twins, thinking they shared one soul between two bodies. Add to that the fact that they were both abandoned by their parents and thus were pretty much social outcasts until the mid-Second Age. Of course, Elros had been dead long before then and Elrond had borne it all alone. Elrond sighed, praying someone out there would come to understand the sacrifices he had made for his fellow-beings over the years and was about to make again. "Very well, I shall be your spokesman."

"Excellent!" shouted Thurintû and jumped up.

"You and Dagrohîr should stay here," said Maedhred. "In fact, I think I will stay here also, in case Legolas turns up or something suspicious happens." In truth, he just did not want to have to deal with Galadriel and her icy disregard. One might think, since he was Celebrian's son and thus the Lady of Light's grandson, that Maedhred would be welcome in the Golden Wood. However, he was also Maedhros' son, and Maedhros was Galadriel's first cousin, making Celebrian his second cousin. While this was technically not incest, the connection was a bit too near for Galadriel to be happy about it.

"But I want to stop the bad guys and be a hero!" whined Dagrohîr.

"Look, Dagrohîr, you haven't opened the present I brought you. Don't you want to…" Elrond had just revealed the brightly wrapped gift when it was ripped from his fingers and his son was tearing off the paper.

"Pop-O-Matic Trouble!" the overgrown elfling enthused, holding up the game so everyone could see. "My favourite! Thanks Ada!"

"You're welcome, ionen. Only this time do not pound on the Pop-O-Matic bubble; press it down gently so it doesn't break. This is the twentieth one I've bought for you," said Elrond.

"Yes Ada, I will," said Dagrohîr with a wave of his hand to indicate that his father could go along now, for he had the game out and he, Maedhred, and Thurintû were already beginning a Trouble Tournament.

Elrond and Darwinor left to confront Galadriel and Celeborn. When they got there, they were shocked to find the Lord and Lady already in conference with none other than Merriadoc the Magnificent and a large golden spider.

"…and this league of rogue rabbits is planning to take over the world!" the Hobbit concluded dramatically from his spot in the center of Celeborn's work desk. His wife Estella was seated nearby, quietly crying.

"Can you lead us back to the place of your captivity?" asked Elrond, putting as much distance between himself and the spider as possible. He rather had a spider phobia, being allergic to the venom of even the smallest of the species.

"No need for that, I know where it is," said Rumil, for he had recovered as the story was being told and was now quite clear-minded, even if he had a dark bruise and nasty pounding headache. "Rabbit Lea is where the magic wards brought Legolas and the spiders, too. It is also where Arwen and Lothiriel appeared later. It has to be the place."

"I shall go also. Galadriel, you should remain and participate in the festival. Remember, you promised Tella and TigerLily to conduct a writer's workshop on "Portraying Females Effectively in Fanfiction", said Celeborn.

"Oh, right. I will see you later, dear," she gave her husband a kiss and scurried off.

"Wait!" shouted Merry. "Change me back to normal!"

Galadriel paused. "I am sorry, Merry, but I have exhausted every restorative spell I know. Perhaps if Mithrandir were here something could be done, but I am afraid I have no antidote. You must find the source of the bunnies' power; only then shall the spell be undone." With that and a swish of her sumptuous silken robes the Lady of Light swept from the room, leaving a hysterical Hobbit-wife incongruously holding her infant-sized husband against her shoulder as he tried to comfort and calm her.

"Do not despair," said Rumil gravely. "We will find this terrible force and subdue it utterly!" He and Celeborn gathered a handful of warriors and armed them with spades and with Elrond and Darwinor they set out to excavate the warrens of Rabbit Lea.

Meanwhile, the Trouble Tournament had drawn a large crowd of kibitzers. It all started when a scribe from Imladris, there to record the Mordor Gras event for posterity, jeered at the adult elves involved in a human children's game. Maedhred invited him to join, as there was a fourth colour not taken, if he thought he could so easily win. The scribe was quickly defeated and another took his spot. She was also out in short order and then one of the Galadhrim wardens decided to try his hand. Over twenty opponents had been thoroughly defeated while the supposedly less-than-sharp duo of misfits played on. Maedhred remained in the game, but was more a moderator than an opponent. Wagering commenced and the stakes were getting rather high, and indeed this sort of thing was one of the chief means by which Maedhred earned his living, for he was not welcome in Imladris, Lothlorien, Mithlond, and especially not in Eryn Lasgalen. He lived in Legolas' colony in Ithilien and travelled a lot for his research. All of this he relayed to the curious writers, who were taking notes as they interviewed him.

"What about your father?" asked Ceana, a newcomer to the MPA's who trotted off with a prize for her story all about this mysterious son of Feanor. "Where is he living now? Do you ever see him?"

"I thought you were the expert on Maedhros," answered his son evasively, still watching the game. The current contender to try and "Beat the Nerds" was a human, one Logan of obscure background who had a temper rather like Thranduil but with built-in weapons that were quite fearsome. He had just popped the Pop-O-Matic and was busy shifting his marker on the board "No, that is the wrong number of moves," objected Maedhred as Dagrohîr and Thurintû both snickered in contempt.

"Waddayamean it's the wrong number? The die says four, I moved four!" growled Logan.

"Pi, multiply by Pi, divide by the circumference, multiply by the inverse of the die, add to die, THEN move," corrected the Sindarin savant.

"What?" hissed the Wolverine, leaning over the board to glower in menace. The effect went unnoticed, however, since Thurintû was staring intently at a coffee stain on the human's shirt.

"He is correct. The rules were clearly explained. Pop the Pop-O-Matic, multiply the result by Pi, divide that by the circumference of the earth, multiply that by the inverse of the value obtained from the die, add that to the value on the die, and then move either forward or backward depending on the sign of the answer," explained Maedhred patiently, for at least the fifth time.

All around him elves had pulled out their abacuses and were frantically pushing the beads around, creating a muted cadence of clicking and clacking not unlike the sound of old-fashioned typewriters in an old-fashioned editorial newsroom of an old-fashioned major newspaper. Logan tried to do the math on the calculator contained on his cellular phone but all he got was an overflow error. Meanwhile, an unusual looking cheetah woman was flying through the calculations on her old TI-100 and shook her head.

"They are correct. The right number is more than four. You are out, Logan." She shared a wry look with Thurintû , for it was a very clever trick and no one else had caught on yet. The number resulting would always be slightly more than the value of the die, but never enough to round up to the next whole value. (This is true. Go ahead, check it out. Geeks RULE!) Thurintû put on his best 'What? I am mentally feeble and thus innocent.' expression but the cheetah woman was not fooled.

"This is nuts!" shouted Logan and jumped up, knocking over his chair in his anger. He stormed off, giving anyone who dared to meet his eyes a glare that could freeze hearts. "Nobody knows the circumference of the earth anyway."

"We do," chorused cheetah-woman, Maedhred, Thurintû , Dagrohîr, and AC (famous fanfiction author, attending in order to cheer for her friends and have fun, in case you were wondering). They all shared a smug chuckle and Maedhred was about to invite another victim when Dagrohîr was momentarily distracted by something running over his foot.

"Oh, bunnies!" he cried, pointing down to the ground. Sure enough, the place was suddenly crawling with little flop-eared rabbits.

"How many rabbits, Thrandimwit?" asked a tipsy elf. Thurintû sent him a scornful and withering glare, for there were only fifteen of the furry animals hopping around, and was about to say something brutally clever when a shrill scream assaulted his ears. A woman nearby had risen from her chair and was frantically hopping up and down, staring down in horror at her ankle. There, firmly attached by its sharp incisors, was one of the little spider-bunnies. Soon more screams disturbed the peace and serenity of fair Lorien as each of the small hares attacked.

Panic broke out, with folks trying to escape the vile biters by climbing on the tables and chairs. The creatures were targeting the elven scribes and the writers, especially the new writers. Robinka had two bunnies chewing on her leg, RiverGirl was pounding her fist against one gnawing her elbow, Erynlinia was strangling a persistent rodent with its teeth sunk into her thigh, and Lynsey had two by the ears, having just yanked them off her shoulder and arm, and was holding them at arms length, looking around for a way to get rid of them. As if in answer to her quandary, a soft whistle of air parting before a speeding arrow preceded said missiles' piercing of the vile vermin and they expired.

It was Legolas, of course, shooting from high in the trees where he had been sulking since leaving Rumil, that is until the Trouble game started. He always enjoyed watching his uncle and Maedhros and Dagrohîr make fools of the so-called normal elves and had settled in to watch. Now he used his impeccable precision with the bow to kill the attacking rabbits. One by one he shot them all, even the ones trying to kill the elven scribes, a group he tended to dislike on principle because they left out almost everything he and Gimli did during the final stage of the Ring War.

Just when it seemed the last of the renegade rabbits was dead, another piercing cry of anguish arose from behind the curtains of the stage. A tall, willowy elven woman emerged, running around in circles, stopping every now and then to shake her leg desperately. Her long black hair waved as she went and a bevy of hairdressers, Bob Macke, assorted makeup artists, her manager, Sonny, and Tella followed, all trying to grab the nasty bunny off her afflicted ankle.

"Nana!" shouted Legolas in horror and took aim. Of course he didn't miss and the creature fell dead at Cher's feet. The attendants hustled the stricken diva back behind the curtain and Legolas leaped from the trees to follow them. This, of course, had all the writers scribbling notes furiously, some using their own blood since it was so readily available and most of them had dropped their pens (or laptops) in the confusion. Jay of Lasgalen and JastaElf, two veteran writers who had won the trust of the famous Wood Elf, ventured to discreetly saunter over to the wings and peer behind the curtains to see what was going on.

There was Cher, collapsed upon the folding director's chair with her name on it, as Tella and Zhie fanned her with show programs and Legolas collected water and some bandages. He knelt at the singer's feet and started tending the wound.

"Oh Legolas, ionen, my little Tadpole, you saved your Nana! Come here and let me kiss you, my big strong handsome henellon! Nana's so proud of you!" Cher cooed and fussed, squeezing Legolas' cheeks and kissing his forehead, his chin, his nose, his smiling lips.

"Nana, you're getting lipstick all over me," he pretended to complain but he was grinning and blushing and obviously very pleased to receive his mother's affection. "Let me clean up this wound or it will get infected."

"Let me take care of my wife, Thranduilion," demanded Sonny and pulled the Wood Elf from his Naneth's loving arms so he could take over.

Legolas didn't say anything, though clearly he would have liked to, but his mother sent him a pleading look and he relented. With a heavy sigh he turned away and began to help gather up the rabbit corpses strewn around the backstage area, for it was plain that a second group had sneaked behind the curtain to get at the famous guests. A second elf began to help and as they each straightened up with an armload of bleeding fur sacks their eyes met.

"Hello, Legolas," said Glorfindel, for it was he, and it must have been him that defeated the backstage attack.

"You!" hissed Legolas, an anguished expression of pain and sorrow sweeping through his eyes. He threw all the nasty dead animals at the renowned Balrog Slayer and stormed into one of the dressing rooms, slamming the door behind him.

Glorfindel did nothing. He just stood there with his head bowed low and let the disgusting remains pelt him.