A few days later, the visitors from Lothlorien departed. The tone during the official farewells was festive, with promises from the guests to return the favor as soon as ever the royal family wished.

Legolas smirked to himself. His father would never deign to take an envoy out of Mirkwood. For a casual visit? Never. The ellon was too set in his ways, hated being away from home, and didn't trust anyone besides. The Prince resolved silently to pay his Lorien acquaintances a visit whenever it seemed meet—alone, if necessary.

The palace guard had formed up for the occasion in ceremonial dress and stood at attention while Galadriel and her party took their leave. As the visitors filed out into the forest, a small contingent of royals and half of the patrol walked with them. It was only a precaution and mostly for show anyway—but Lady Galadriel had been very solicitous when it came to accompaniment through the Mirkwood, saying that one could never be too careful, and that it was only practicing good hospitality to see them out, and a great deal many other things.

Thranduil had complied stiffly.

By now, the late autumn wind was biting, and most of the riotous leaves that had graced the trees of the Mirkwood were gone—only a few still clung to their branches, loathe to depart.

The caravan made its way through the winding wood, and Legolas glanced up into the trees. The sky was grey today, and winter's chill seemed to carry foreboding with it.

In the end, it hadn't been as uncomfortable as I'd imagined it might. On the evening of the Harvest Celebration, I didn't speak with my sister or Dalyor so much as exchange some idle pleasantries. But the next day, we caught up over a very strange breakfast, and I learned that the two of them had produced a little elfling together—my niece.

I was accustomed to Yrathea being cruel and snappish, but she had transformed into a different elleth in my absence. She seemed… tired. Too tired to hurt me anymore, at least. And the glamour I had always attributed to Dalyor's good looks and breeding failed to impress me this time. He had bags under his eyes and the promising beginning of a paunch around his middle.

Spending days on end with princes and kings seemed to be changing some of my expectations. And my taste.

The two of them were interested in what I was doing, and perhaps a little… not jealous, exactly, just—wistful.

Yrathea began to complain of Lady Galadriel's treatment before her husband shushed her. "We do not know who else may be listening, dearest," he muttered with an inane smile pasted on his face.

"Well, I must tell my troubles to someone, mustn't I?" she asked.

"Not if they don't want to hear it," he answered under his breath.

When the day came for the two of them to depart, I agreed to breakfast with them again and then walk out into the morning gloom of Mirkwood with their party, just a small fraction of the way through the forest.

It had been a long time now since I had visited my sap maple, and I noticed in surprise that the days I had expected to spend alone and rather forlorn were well passed. I hadn't visited the tree, well—because I hadn't needed to. Not overwhelmingly, at least. It was a happy realization to make. I allowed myself to take stock of my own progress, and then let it pass from my mind.

I had never seen such a glittery caravan. Galadriel and her company traveled in style and comfort, and the whole group of them moved slowly We were all flanked by the Mirkwood guard, and at the front, Thranduil Elvenking rode his giant elk Aerin. Legolas rode a well-appointed bay at his side.

At my sister's question, I put my attention back on her. "What's that?"

"I said," Yrathea repeated, "Do you have any prospects of your own?"

I blinked at her. "Prospects?"

Dalyor glanced uncomfortably up at the forest ceiling, and Yrathea snorted.

"Yes, prospects. The word is so foreign to you? Prospects in marriage?"

Many things happened at once then. When I realized what she was asking, and in whose company, the long-suppressed rage at my mistreatment surged to my awareness and I thought I might kick her. Then I had the impulse to laugh at her insensitivity, which I fought back. I finally allowed my face to assume a calm expression—of sorts—and decided not to answer her. Instead, I looked steadily at her and watched her blush.

It was at this moment that I heard a scream from the front of our column, and I stopped and craned my neck to see what was going on. Next to me, I heard an ellon curse quietly and turned to see him vigorously shaking one hand to try and rid it of—what was that? Webbing?

Then my chest went cold. Off of the path to our right, I could see countless pockets of spider's secretions clouding the underbrush and suggesting a patchy mist. How could we be in spider territory here, so close to the path? So close to the compound?

There was another scream from the unknown elleth at the front, and I saw Dalyor place a protective hand on Yrathea's arm. Quickly, like a thread unraveling, the convoy began to disperse. At the sounds of trouble, my kin mobilized, spreading themselves out among the trees and seeking sanctuary. It struck me that perhaps, while an innate impulse, this might not be the correct thing to do.

With a last glance at my sister and brother-in-law, I sped away, darting through the scattered travelers on the footpath until I could see what was happening. Then I gasped. They were upon us.

Spiders.

There were eight or nine of the fell beasts—large ones, menacing the royal party. One had snatched an ellon from the side of the column and was busy wrapping him in swathes of tight webbing. There were cries of terror from the caravan and shouts of instruction issuing from the guard.

Think, Fil, I told myself, trying not to panic. What were best to do? Place myself near the patrol? Near warriors who could protect me?

My breath was hitching in my throat. As I considered what to do next, a new dispatch of spiders flanked us at the corner. I began to count them. When I reached fourteen, I changed my tactic and decided to flee back to the palace grounds.

"Here!" I screamed, pulling on the sleeves of those around me. "To me! Courtiers!"

Several of my kin surrounded me, their faces pale with fear.

"We flee back to the palace," I cried. "Come! Tell everyone you see! Let the armed guard handle this—to safety, now!"

And for a wonder, some of them followed me.

I didn't think. I sprinted back along the footpath, leaping over root systems and fallen logs with an agility I hadn't known I possessed. I glanced periodically behind myself to be sure the others followed me. I had managed to bring quite a few of them along, and swallowed hard, hoping those left at the site of the attack would be all right.