CHAPTER 13: HUNTERS BELOW THE THICKET
O'er our woods we must defend
For this may be the bitter end
In silence ever shall I lie
Farewell, farewell, all vanity
The forest was silent, other than the mere growl that emanated from the dark, the kind of silence that did naught to ease the Elves. They looked upon their king for instruction, and we're not disappointed. Basking in the sickly grey light from the foliage, Thranduil had an unbreakable stance and an expression as unwavering as stone.
"Ndengina ta," he commanded, looking to his son, "now."
Legolas nodded, responding to the order. Leaning his weight unot his arms, he lurched his blade forward (and with such cleanliness!) that it felled the creature from vile head to stomach, bathing the floor scarlet. And it was when Leglolas, whom narrowly escaped the beast's counter, saw the clear, marred flesh and grotesque features that alerted him as to the identity of the intruder: An Orc.
"Orc filth!" he spat in contempt.
Then, beheading the disgusting thing, he turned on his heel and headed back to the awaiting elves. Upon his face was a glower directed toward solely one being—his king.
"Ta naa neuma! This was merely a scout," he said, "Let us warn Mirkwood!"
"Legolas," admonished Thranduil, "they may have already realized this. I fail to know for sure however, and I, though I am concerned of what has befallen them, must take care of things here and now." Although no fear was visible, Thranduil did not dare take his eyes off the woods whilst speaking.
"We will travel through the trees then," said Legolas, more of an order than a suggestion, "and shall fight for our homeland to the death if we must."
Thranduil looked at him, scorn written across his features. Though Legolas had forgotten his place, yet again, there was no time argument. He could only agree with a curt nod.
Legolas and the two elven guards raised their bows over their hearts. "Our bows shall sing with your sword, my lord."
At this, Thranduil beckoned them forward. Like the swift prance of a hart, they leapt stealthily into the foliage.
oOo
"How long more must we wait?" A vicious Orc of considerable measure frothed. "My knife longs for the red of those fair creatures; let's see if their blood is as fair as them. Merely three cannot quench my thirst." He impatiently sharpened his sword with another pair of weaponry. Yet, the horrible, rustic screeching sent dozens of Orcs cursing his existence, and they threateningly raised their own weapons.
One of the most intimidating of the group snarled. "You insolent fool!" said he, "Rhogdul has left precise orders to wait here. You would do best obey them, or I might dispose of you myself before you kill us all!—The Orc cowered at these words, dropping his weapons to the ground in submission—His wrath is not one I am willing to face."
Then, leaving the Orc to his own, the speaker stomped along, eyes gleaming with satisfaction at his power to threat another.
oOo
The Elves stirred amongst the foliage. Legolas sat above the rest, hair grazing the leaves; they watched the wretched Orcs roam upon their land through narrowed eyes. "They're worse than Spiders, spreading poison further and further inward," said Legolas. His muttering was true, for the Orcs presence tainted the forest blacker (what once had been murky had become a darker shade of grey). "No more. These repugnant beasts will pay in death; their miserable lives the cost."
Legolas looked to Thranduil. The Elvenking's jaw was clenched, eyebrows furrowed in distaste; he looked as if he'd swallowed something horrid. "Death to the foes of the Elves," growled Thranduil after a moment, "May light flare and may darkness flee."
Legolas and the Elves nodded in understanding. Though they may not survive the day, they moved of their hearts' own accord—to protect the forest, though a corrupted one, their home nonetheless. And with heavy swimming-like movements, they took a deep breath; the breath before the plunge. Then they landed upon earth.
"A lelyalme. Wield your swords." Swords rang as they were drawn.
The Orcs drew near (although startled, they were quick to react). There came a horrible noise upon the air, a spitting, growling noise that the Elves thought they would never hear uttered in their home—Dark Speech, curses, growls.
The elven company sprung effortlessly forward, fluently brandishing their delicate weapons, preparing to slaughter the whole group with ease.
Sprinting father ahead, Legolas drew his bowstring, letting a thin arrow sing melodically, boring into the vile head of the first orc that neared. The dark servant of Sauron bared it's yellowed teeth and gave one last defining roar before crumpling lifelessly to the forest floor.
One fallen, several more to be slayed.
A dangerous glint appeared upon the prince's face and a delicious thrilling sensation crept upwards along his spine. This was like a game, he played a perilous game; but the stakes were high, and he fancied himself strong enough to guide the tempest he evoked. Adrenaline coursed through him as three more Orcs attempted to besiege him. How foolish to think their skill could surpass his.
As they dared to near, he spun, agilely slashing and sparring with the three weapons. Evade, leap, slice, repeat.
The orcs snarled decisively with animosity, but staggered backward as each of their weapons rebounded with a sharp clang. Their throated gnarls were cut off instantly as the elf shot them a triumphant leer and a second later Legolas gyrated easily on his heels. He switched fluently to his elven daggers and sliced all three of the orcs' horrid heads in one motion. Tilting his head with certainty, he turned to see how his father was faring.
Thranduil was absolutely mesmerizing in battle. His skill was indeed mare more fair than Legolas' and he was more experienced with age. If the Orcs gained too much ground, Thranduil was three steps ahead, fencing his sword with grace, warding them back. Legolas loozed upon his king with awe; he watched the beasts demolished by his father's hand.
"Legolas. I know how fond you are of watching me fight, but I believe I commanded you to attack as well," Thranduil panted between parries, twisting his body to the left and right. "Don't be lazy," he added, a smirk marking his smooth face.
"Do you have the need of saving, my lord?" Legolas replied sarcastically, impaling an Orc that had managed to sneak behind the king's back with an arrow from his quiver.
"Never fear, ionneg, you are by my side. I am aware of how much safer you feel alongside me," Thranduil retorted, eyebrows raised in mirth. Legolas would have scoffed, but he was occupied with another tenacious beast.
Back to back, the King and Prince of Mirkwood fought valiantly, never missing a beat, their synchronized blazing dance annihilating all who dared to oppose them. Stretching his arms, Legolas fired arrow after arrow, the repeating pattern targeting with such precise, whilst Thranduil flaunted his steel blades with the same deadly accuracy.
The orcs bared their teeth in defiance, but the elves did not miss the flash of uncertainty that appeared on their terrible faces. The fair group never once yielded. The trilling sound of metal against metal. The consistent thunder of their hearts as adrenaline pushed them further. Further, further, they were almost rid of them.
"My Lord—" The two guards by Thranduil's side began.
Suddenly their breath hitched and a loud thump was heard.
Turning swiftly, Thranduil and Legolas directed their weapons where the sound emanated, but they were much too late. The guards had fallen, lethal Orc arrows protruding from their chests. Blood watered the ground.
Legolas, rooted to the ground, scoured the forest uneasily. Where had that arrow appeared from? The orcs they were currently fighting did not fire. So who did?
Turning to scour the forest, realization dawned as he glimpsed the scarred face of the Orc leader. The creature was a little far off but still making his way to where the royal family stood bewildered.
"Alas! There are more beasts approaching!" said Legolas.
Thranduil clenched the hilts of his weapons and his eyes widened in fear. He could barely contain a silent yell as a distracted Legolas missed the incoming arrow from the current orc he was sparring with. His blood instantly ran cold.
The crossbow was aimed directly at his son's exposed back.
Out of time. Legolas could not evade the shot. Without a second thought, Thranduil indignantly thrust Legolas out of harm's way, expertly wielded his twin swords and brought them harshly down, splinting the incoming arrow in half. "Orc filth," he said confidently, head held high. His darkened eyebrows suddenly raised as a low cackle erupted from the orc archer.
"Have you forgotten something? I am not the only archer here... Not anymore, in the least," The vile creature spat, sly sneer plastered on his ugly face.
Legolas, momentarily winded from his father's act, raised his bow lightning quick. As he focused on the one who had aimed to kill him, he suddenly realized he had forgotten something. The new orc group neared. Sneering wickedly, another barbaric crossbow raised strongly.
"Ai!" Legolas, distraction proving to be his fate, calmly accepted his fate. But his father; he had a better chance. "Adar! Flee at once!"
Thranduil, head cocked in confusion, reeled around in understanding. Legolas! He heard the soft warning from his son's lips and instinctively met his son's cerulean eyes, exchanging a loving glance.
Thranduil then unexpectantly lunged swiftly in front of his son a second time, weapons half-raised, attempting to shield him from the deadly act that threatened to follow.
Legolas stood, shocked at his father's action. Twice his father would do such a thing? No, no, no, no, no...
He watched it absolute horror as the arrow savagely buried itself into Thranduil's left shoulder. Red, (O how he despised that wretched color), blossomed like a budding flower over his father's porcelain skin.
This was a lie, false, a trick.
Gasping for breath, he stepped backward. Through his haziness came a twinge of pain from his ankle.
Truth.
Eyes widening in instant pain, Thranduil's cool face gave no weakened sign of his predicament as he shakily tried to staunch his blossoming wound.
Relief flooded his features as he realized that he had been penetrated and not his son. And Legolas; was he safe? As his hands progressively soaked with blood; he soundlessly collapsed to his knees, head bowed in repugnance, his crimson-splashed robe splayed around. How did this come to be? He blankly stared down at the embedded arrow closely above his heart, mouth halfway parted in shock. His sterling crown fell mutely off his head, hair fluidly covering his disoriented eyes.
Legolas cursed silently at his father who had taken the shot that was meant for him. His words turned to nothing. This time, he furiously took up his stance in front of his downed father, ready should more arrows follow.
Glancing quickly behind, he pordered as to how serious his father's wound could be.
"I-I cannot g-go further," Thranduil seethed, gritting his teeth, his eyes growing hazy due to the continuous amount of blood loss. "Av-'osto. It is an order to extinguish them all; leave me and dimpose of them," he panted heavily, his too pale face losing more colour, turning as white as frozen winter.
"Nay. I would never think to abandon you," Legolas choked out, voice rising. "These foul monsters dare not move closer for fear I might kill them all."
The foul Orcs could not take the mocking insult and roared ear-splittingly as dozens charged at the remaining noble elves.
Rhogdul snorted as his troupe rushed forward with such hatred. In his black native speech, the orc leader bared his decayed teeth into a wicked grin and growled at his followers. "Kill them both. They will die for our loss at Erebor; our ill-news mean death. The dark lord would no doubt destroy us." He licked his blood-painted sword, bloodlust driving him beyond mad, hunger.
He sneered at the stricken Woodland King who now lay gasping for breath, hands grasping naugt but the earth. The Elvenking held himself steady, for fear of collapsing further.
Rhogdul's enthusiasm was cut off however as one fair-skinned warrior blocked his view. The elf''s face was pure loathing with revenge, startling the Orc somewhat as a stunning glare shot through his black twisted heart. The elf stood, incensed at his enemies, blades gleaming dangerously in the fading light.
The Prince of Mirkwood.
And upon his face, wrath burned like fire.
Legolas wielded his swords right—left, countering every strike, whilst shielding his injured king. His efforts prove futile, however, and the Orcs outnumbered his lone self; they surrounded thim, their battle cries echoing clearly through the dark forest.
oOo
Lord Elrond came awake with a jerk, the aftermath of his foresight receding within his quivering body. His covers lay in mush condusion upon his bed. Trembling with cold sweat, he blinked—once, twice, to rid the last of the effects away.
Aye Valar, why must things never go as expected in Arda? he thought.
Shaking away the effects of his foresight, he trembled with anxiety. He threw his usual teal robe over his grey night tunic and sprinted down Rivendell's halls, shouting aloud as he did so.
"The Lords of Mirkwood are troubled! Gather the usual patrols to assist me in my journey to the Woodland Realm at once!" He tackled his golden gleaming armour outfit, slipping it over himself whilst heading towards Rivendell's stables.
"Ada? I don't understand, what is going on?" A childish voice rang in worry.
Estel suddenly appeared out of nowhere, making Elrond jump in instant surprise.
"Legolas and Thranduil are in need of aid ion-nin. If we don't find them before evening nightfall they are dead." He sighed. "I can send you off to bed still, but sadly I know you will not obey. Am I correct?"
Estel's flabbergasted face as he had mentioned Legolas, confirmed the Lord of Rivendell that indeed, Estel would not.
"Ada! I have a strong desire to go! You will not forbid me this time!"
"Annon I *dhawen angin," Lord Elrond whispered. Arguing only took away time.
"Really?" Estel stiffened, not believing the words that had come from his Adar's mouth.
Lord Elrond rolled his eyes to the nighttime sky, sighing at the delay. "You heard me correctly. I give you permission to come Aragorn, but make haste! We have little time!"
Mounting his usual steed, he brought up Estel in front of him. "You must promise me you will not do anything rash."
"I won't Ada!" said Estel replied, and the horse moved into a canter at Elrond's hand. He was overjoyed with the thought that he could see his friend again and he purposely ignored the grave fact that Legolas was injured, or far worse... Dead. The vast plain that separated them, a barrier, could mean the difference between life and death.
Ndengina ta - Kill it
Alelyame - Let's go
Av'osto - Do not be afraid
Annon I *dhawen angin - I give you permission
Note: This is by far my favorite of all I've written. Thanks to those who left comments. *Cackles evilly. What have I done to them?! Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it as much as I enjoyed making this chapter!