So another muse managed to wriggle its way into my brain and just refused to leave until I wrote out this chapter! Of course, it just had to come when I am in the middle of important exams... Enough of my ramblings... Hope you enjoy :-D
Delu sat from his position high in the many branched tree. It was perfect - no one, not even an elf, would be able to detect his prescence from up here. His great tree sat at the edge of the ominous enchanted river, which ran swiftly before the large imposing gates at the entrance to the great cavern of King Thranduil.
Thranduil. The name sat bitterly on Delu's tongue, his hands subconsciously reached for the dagger at his waist.
Patience, he thought to himself. He will pay. He stretched out his long legs before him; he had been sitting in the same position for over two hours now, and he was quickly becoming restless.
It had been almost a week... Many parties of elves had come and gone; some going hunting, others simply going for feasts in the forest. But still no sign of the golden-haired prince.
Delu grabbed a leaf from a nearby branch and crushed it in his fist. His patience was quickly wearing thin: he had been waiting for the moment to pierce an arrow through the heart of the prince, thus stealing the King's own, for five years now.
He thought back to the night the King had taken everything from him. The screams of his mother as she stood to protect her son still haunted the young man; he could still see the dagger that pierced her from behind emerge from her chest, the light from her eyes leaving as blood trickled down the front of her pale robes.
His father had faught valiantly; protecting his son just as his mother had tried to do. Delu had been but a boy of thirteen at the time, and it still shamed him to this day that he had not been able to step up and defend his home as his family had done.
''Run!'' his father had cried to him. And he had. He ran until all the breath had left him. His home was far behind him. Cries could be heard coming from everywhere. He didn't know what to do; part of him wanted to run back to the aid of his family, but the more sensible part knew that only death awaited him there.
Snapping a twig between his long fingers Delu managed to bring himself out of his dark pit of memories. It would be no good to go there now... Not when his chance for vengeance was so close - he needed to keep a clear head.
A sudden movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. A small hunting party were making their way across the stone bridge. Delu could just make out a small group of elves, all dressed in their hunting gear, bows slung on their backs, laughing as they crossed the enchanted river.
Delu scanned the group excitedly. Could this be it? Would the precious princeling finally appear? Disapointment quickly flooded him. No, all Delu could see was a mass of dark heads; not a golden strand among them.
He slumped back against the trunk in defeat. Another day gone by without any sign of the Prince, his target. Delu almost cried out in his frustration. He worried that if the Prince didn't show up soon he would be forced to sneak into the Palace and find him himself; which of course would mean certain death for Delu.
No, he would just have to wait; the Prince would have to show his pretty little golden head one of these days.
Suddenly he heard laughter coming from below his tree: the hunting party were setting out! Very slowly Delu moved for a closer look, and what he saw nearly made him fall from his lofty position in surprise.
There, laughing with the other elves, was the Prince. Delu couldn't understand how he had missed him! But there he was; walking at the head of the group, and looking every bit the prince he was. Delu had to restrain himself from taking out his bow and shooting the Prince from where he sat. But no; he knew that would be foolish - he probably wouldn't have time to draw his bow before the elves would be on him. He knew he had to take this slowly.
Delu tried to calm himself as he watched the elves make their way into Mirkwood's gloomy depths. It would be no good to get yourself killed, now, would it? he told himself. When he decided that the hunting party were far enough Delu carefully climbed down from his tree, and slowly set out after them.
He made not a sound as he stalked his prey; not even the cracking of a twig or the rustling of leaves could be heard. Delu had learnt many years ago how to move silently through a forest; and now his years of practice were coming into play.
The day passed swiftly as Delu tracked the hunting party. He had managed to hear snatches of conversation drifting back from the elves: they were after a Great White Stag - a rarity in Mirkwood, and a catch that was celebrated most enthusiastically. The animal had apparantly been spotted a few days before, and the elves knew it would not be far.
The afternoon was quickly turning to evening, yet the elves still showed no signs of stopping. Just as Delu was beginning to make peace with the fact that he would not be killing Legolas this evening the atmosphere suddenly changed.
Looking ahead Delu could see the elves stilling, all with their bows at the ready - the stag must have been spotted! Delu tensed, waiting to see what would happen next. Suddenly, the sound of an arrow whizzing through the air could be heard cutting through the unnatural silence which had settled on the forest. The stag had been hit! And, judging by the triumphant yells that followed, it had fallen.
Delu watched as the group of elves ran forward, Legolas at the front, to inspect their kill. What followed were many minutes of cheerfull celebration. Delu peered through the dense dark bush that was currently masking him from the elves' sight. Legolas was receiving many congratulatory pats on the back: it seems that he had been the one to bring down the stag.
A quarter of an hour later, and the elves had gathered the stag, and were now making their way towards an apparent clearing they were aware of. Delu could just make out the setting sun through the dense trees: it would be completely dark in the forest soon.
Eventually the elves found their clearing, and set up camp for the night. They built a great fire, and brought out much food and even a few bottles of wine from their packs. Delu quietly scrambled up a tree, far enough from the camp so the elves would not see him, but not so far that he could not keep a close watch on his target.
He watched in disgust as the elves celebrated their victory: eating much, singing merrily and drinking often. Though, Delu did note that Legolas did not seem to be drinking as much of the deep red wine as his fellow hunters.
Delu knew that it would have to happen tonight; tomorow morning the elves would return to their King, bringing with them their grand prize. And after that who knew how long it would be till the Prince returned to the forest? Yes; tonight would be the night.
Legolas laughed along with his friends as they regalled eachother with tales of the hunt. He could not be more pleased; the first day of the hunt and already they had their kill! He had packed enough for at least a week in the forest!
He could not wait to see the look on his father's face when he brought back the White Stag, his gift for his father. It had been too long since their last feast - the evil spreading from Dol Guldor had placed a stone of dread in his father's heart, and the palace had been a place of gloom for far too long. But this kill was definitely cause for celebration for it showed that not all in Mirkwood had been corrupted; beauty still existed. Though Legolas could not help but laugh at the irony...
Yes, his father would be back to his old merrymaking self in no time. For that, Legolas was certain.
Yet for all of his joy Legolas could not help but feel a sense of danger: as though something with evil purpose was watching him.
As soon as he had set off on his hunt earlier that morning he had felt it; a lurking presence in the shadows, silently watching and waiting for its moment, waiting for the Prince. He may have been the one on the hunt, but too many times for his liking Legolas felt as though he were the prey.
Legolas was not foolish enough to ignore these feelings; he knew to trust his instincts - especially while out in the forest: Mirkwood was no longer called Greenwood the Great for a reason.
But he was still close to his father's halls - the enchanted river and Thranduil's power were usually enough to keep evil creatures and harm at bay. He was easily within a day's journey of his home. His friends certainly felt no danger judging by the rate they were going through the wine!
Legolas relaxed back against a tree and let out a deep, contented sigh. He had meant for this hunt to be an enjoyable break from palace life and his duties as prince, and he was not going to let his over-paranoid mind spoil it for him!
Picking up his goblet full of wine Legolas, for the second time that evening, toasted to their success (though his friends were far too drunk to even realise), and prepared himself for a long event-filled night, though by no means a bad one.
Delu sat and watched from his bush as the elves spent the night drinking and laughing and dancing around their ridiculously large campfire. Many times he had had to restrain himself from charging into their camp and slashing them to pieces, using only his dagger for a weapon.
But finally his patience had been rewarded: the eleves had all passed out drunk, save for one; the one he needed above all else.
The Prince was sitting by the fire, a faraway look in his blue eyes, as his friends lightly snored from their sprawled positions on the forest floor.
Delu was pleased Legolas had not drunk too much - he wanted to see the light drain from his eyes, see the look of fear pass over his face as he knew his life was ending. And for that, Delu needed him conscious.
Now his only task was to draw the Prince away. Shouldn't be too dificult, he thought to himself. Very slowly and cautiously he extracted himself from the bush, staying low so as not to be seen. Though he need not have worried about that: his dark cloak camouflaged him perfectly in the forest.
As soon as he was free he made his way further from the camp, making no sound as he moved. Once he felt he was at a safe enough distance (he did not want to arouse too much suspiscion, else the Prince would no doubt wake his friends) he picked up a small stick from the ground, and pocketed it his coat.
Finding a tree with plenty of branches he slowly scrambled up until he was a fair bit off the ground. Getting himself into a good position he retreived his bow from his back and set it on his lap. His hands were shaking as he brought out his stick. Without thinking he snapped it in two. As he did the faces of his family appeared in his mind, just for a fleeting moment. 'This is for you,' he whispered into the darkness.
Legolas sat up suddenly as he heard it: a crack of a stick sounding from not far off. It was most likely an animal going on its nightly hunt, but even so, Legolas did not want to ignore it.
Picking up his bow from the ground he silently made his way to the source of the sound.
Delu's heart was hammering in his chest as he waited for the Prince to show up. He quickly wiped his sweating hands on his tunic, not wanting his bow to slip. Picking up his bow he swiftly chose an arrow from his quiver readied his weapon.
Silence once more fell on the forest. Delu was sure the Prince would be able to hear his beating heart. Taking a deep breath he managed to calm himself, steadying his shaking hands as he did so.
Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he saw him. The Prince cautiously walked beneath his tree, his eyes fixed on the ground. Delu tried not to laugh as he thought of how out of place Legolas' hair was in the forest - it practically shone in the moonlight! Easier target for me, he thought to himself.
This was it! This was his moment! The past five years of his life had been leading to this, and Delu could feel his anticipation, exitement and fear coursing through his veins and morphing into one feeling: and that was focus.
Silently drawing back the bowstring he aimed his arrow perfectly for the Prince's heart. Suddenly, as he was just about to release, he could feel something crawl on his shoulder. Barely looking down he could just make out a very large and very deadly looking spider, just as it sunk its two long fangs into Delu's shoulder.
Panicking he released his bow, swiping off the spider with his hand. He watched with dread as his arrow flew through air, its accuracy off due to the very bad timing of a spider.
The arrow made no sound as it flew; the only sound came from the peircing of flesh as it found its long-awaited target. Delu's task was done.
So? You like? Reviews are even more celebrated than the Great White Stag! They are the cause of much celebration and dancing on my part, and will be forever worshipped :-D
They also bring about a great sense of determination in me, causing much faster updates!