When the last of the spiders is dead, shouts fading into hushed murmurs, and the battle now behind them, Thranduil has not the violence nor the adrenaline to distract him from the bloody aftermath.
A soldier brings him the reins of his elk, his war companion, and he mounts with whatever elegance he can summon from his tired body.
Pale blue eyes take in the large twitching bodies of slain spiders, his elves stacking them into piles and setting fire to the foul monsters. The glow from the flames illuminates the tall trees around them as the sun retreats into night. On the other side of the battlegrounds, lay countless elves, immortality ended by poisonous fangs and beady eyes.
"My Lord." He turns to address his Captain, an elf with thick dark hair and black blood staining his cheeks.
"What is the damage, Balthoron?"
The Captain's eyes shine with grief. "There were no survivors from the town, my King. We were too late."
Thranduil closes his eyes, jaw tightening. He does not have the luxury of showing emotion. "Tell the men to make camp for tonight. Get some rest. We will leave at dawn."
Only when the night is deep and his soldiers lay fast asleep from exhaustion, does the Elvenking wander the ruined town, hands twisting in leather reins. And when his faithful elk halts, snout lowering to sniff at the base of a large tree, he tugs gently, fingers stiff from the moon's cold rays.
"Come, Beren." The sturdy animal huffs, rocking his massive antlers to the side before pawing once more at the ground.
Thranduil is about to nudge the stubborn beast into motion when he hears a soft whimper. He does not know quite what to think when he meets teary amber gaze of a scratched and bruised elfling hiding between the roots of the tree.
She does not scream or shout when he coaxes her out of her hole, for which he is infinitely grateful. He does not think his sleep-deprived nerves could handle a child's shrill cry. She only stares with hazy eyes, small fingers digging into the rich fabric of his robes as he kicks Beren into a gallop towards his elven healer.
Thranduil wonders if she knows she is the only survivor. But when he sees the way she turns her head as they pass the villagers corpses, he does not have to ask.
Author's Note: I have found that I am more motivated to finish a story if I do it in drabble-like sequences. This series will be focusing mainly on Tauriel and her relationship with Thranduil as well as Legolas, and will go chronologically, time wise. My knowledge of the Hobbit/Lotr verse is limited to the movies, and from what I've deduced from fanfics (lol) so feel free to correct me on anything I get wrong! Also, I have fallen hard for the Tauriel x Thranduil ship, so this series will begin with a more distant relationship, but eventually evolve into something deeper. Don't ask me how I got to shipping them. You just can't control these things, man. *shamelessly asks for reviews*