Something had stirred up the spiders, and the second east patrol of Doriath was going to have to deal with it. If they were lucky, the spiders had just made a new kill or a new skittering ball of newborns had been launched from their mothers back. Then the rangers could silently retreat without risking bloodshed. There was an uneasy co-existence between the elves that guarded the border and the various creatures that, while dangerous, also helped to deter more dangerous outside forces. A spider would rather take a fawn or a deer than a full-grown and well-armed elf anyway. But something had stirred up the spiders and so a scout was dispatched.
Beleg stepped lightly and quickly through the dank, brown-green undergrowth of the forest. He paused for a moment on a fallen tree, crusted over with lichen and fungus, his breath forming a white cloud in the crisp morning air. From this vantage point, he could see into the cramped little hollow where the spiders spun most of their webs. Every tree bore armfuls of clotted white webs that trembled at the frantic moments of the insects caught there. Here and there, a dark shadow or shining eyes hinted at the presence of the ever-watchful spiders. This was normal and if this was all the Beleg saw, he could have slipped away as silently as he came, reporting that all was well.
But something had disturbed the uneasy balance. Beleg's relaxed stance became tenser, and he took a few steps back, dropping behind the log he stood on. In the middle of the little hollow, and surrounded by three spiders, stood a white-faced elf. His dark eyes darted from one spider to the other as he slowly turned, trying to keep an eye on all of them. He held a knife in one tightly clenched fist. Beleg could see that, as tightly as he held the dagger, his hand was shaking. The spiders were herding him into a smaller and smaller circle. They stood as tall as the elf's height, and their long, thickly furred limbs spanned a dozen feet in all directions. The spider behind the elf was waiting for the perfect moment to spring. The jeweled eyes were fixed on this hapless prey and its translucent fang shimmered wetly with venom.
Beleg had strung his bow almost automatically, his fingers itching to release the long feathered arrow into the third spider's body. But he waited. He didn't have backup with him. If he started shooting now, the spiders could kill the elf and possibly swarm him, even if he killed one of them with the arrows alone. However, the spiders weren't going to wait for him to get the help he needed. The elf was running out of time. The ranger took careful aim and his arrow whistled into the white, squirming egg sac in the trees above. Thousands, possibly millions of tiny baby spiders exploded everywhere like a living rain and an unearthly squealing sound filled the air. The infant spiders were screaming for help and attention, and for a moment, the three adult spiders paused, confused.
In that moment, Beleg had his opportunity and he yelled at the elf, who stood transfixed as tiny spiders fell onto his shoulders, and into his hair.
"Run!"
He couldn't wait to see if he would obey. He put his hunting horn to his lips and sounded his own alarm, calling for his fellow rangers to come to his aid. Then his hands were back on his bow, stringing his next arrow. One of the adult spiders scurried into the tree, its long tapping limbs feeling the extent of the damage to the injured egg sac. The second one darted this way and that, as tiny spiders climbed onto the refuge of the bigger spider's legs and back.
The elf seemed paralyzed. His eyes met Beleg's but he didn't move, didn't run, run, run to safety. He stood still as a stone and that is when the third spider pounced. The monstrous fangs bit down onto both shoulder and the front two legs wrapped around his thin, ragged body. Already, Beleg could see translucent threads of a cocoon begin to wrap around the elf, who finally exploded into life, screaming and kicking, striking out with his pathetically small knife. The screaming of the infant spiders and the screaming of the elf mixed together into a hellish chorus. Beleg's first arrow sank into the spider's thick body, but he had to pause before releasing the second, fearing he would strike the elf. More spiders were already stirring to life in the trees above, disturbed by the noise.
"Need some help?"
Beleg didn't start, his eyes focusing narrowly as he let the second arrow fly.
"Nice of you to show up Mablung," he said dryly.
The other ranger smiled cockily, two long daggers held at the ready. Mablung's bright green eyes assessed the situation in a moment and he smiled with unnerving pleasure at the sight.
"It looks like you left me the fun part," he said airily, "Beleg, cover me while I play the hero, please."
He vaulted over the log before Beleg answered, charging like a madman into the mess of squirming spiders and the flailing elf.
It wasn't quite a fool's charge. Already, arrows from invisible archers joined Beleg's around all around the hollow, forming a swift, flying barrage that covered Mablung from attack. The tall ranger moved fearlessly among the hail of arrows as he reached the staggering spider that still clutched the elf in its limbs. The spider was dying, that was already sure, but the elf's cries were weakening as he staggered to stay on his feet, his dagger slipping from his grasp.
Mablung ducked under the spider's thick, fat body and shoved one of his daggers deep into its underbelly. The spider released the elf, who collapsed to the earth immediately, and it turned its attention to the immediate threat of the ranger. Already, Mablung was in danger of those fangs himself, but he danced out of reach of the spider's flailing limbs, light as a dancer and still grinning madly. All he had to do was stay out of reach.
Beleg ended the spider himself with a third and final arrow that joined the others peppering the spider's body.
"Get out," Beleg called out to him. Their arrows could only stop the other spiders for so long.
Mablung was already on the move. He grabbed up the elf, who had fallen to the earth, white as milk and already unconscious from the venom, and then retrieved his dagger. The hail of arrows followed his retreat from the hollow. The spiders followed for only so long before they gave up the hunt. Some of them were already wrapping up their fallen comrade, ready to devour him as their next meal. When they were finally at a safe distance, the two rangers slowed.
"I told you," Mablung said, "Watch me play the hero. Easy, right?"
"For God's sake," Beleg snapped, "You'll be a hero if the damned boy doesn't die. Look at him."
The taller ranger stopped smiling and he gently laid the elf onto the ground. Mablung was fearless in battle, but he already looked uncertain now that he saw the elf's glassy eyes and the stiffness in his limbs. He was no healer.
Beleg dropped to his knees beside the elf and felt for a heartbeat, finding the faint, thready pulse in a wrist that was thin and scarred. Close up, it seemed the he had already encountered more bad luck before he ever met the spiders. His skin hung on his bones like wet cloth, and there were scars on his face and arms and more that showed through the ragged shirt he wore. Beleg paused for a moment and took a sharp quick breath.
He hadn't seen it before, through the rags and the desperation, but now that the elf lay still and unmoving, Beleg could see the youth in his face and slender frame.
"Eru," he whispered, "He's just a boy."