Warning: Just a reminder this is rated T for a reason :) Fight scene ahead.

Chapter 27

'Then you better hope we won't get stung.' Legolas had said. With merely two persons against a rather large, festering nest of spiders, fate tends to intervene, and get stung is exactly what befell them...

Estel lashed out with his blade, desperately repeating what Legolas had told him about fighting these beasts like an incantation that kept his flighty soul tethered to his body.

At first sight, the spiders were frankly quite terrifying. But as the young human triumphed over one foe to the next, his confidence grew. The creature beside him had seemed to vaporize into a flurry of golden and silver streaks. The sound of his knives twirling through the air sounded almost as gracefully deadly as the elf looked, especially as he threw his upper body back wards to avoid a pair of stingers and plunged a dagger into one of the black obsidian eyes of a beast coming behind him. The two beasts in front missed their target and could not stop their swift momentum to avoid stabbing their large oozing stingers into each other's abdomens. All three went down with a unified guttural cry of agony.

Estel sliced through a pair of claw-tipped legs that had come forward, and used the pain as a distraction to lunge forwards and drive the blade into the area behind the spider's head; one of the few chinks in the monster's armor-like exoskeleton. He parried away a swooping stinger. Both weapons met in a metallic clang that made the human wonder what the stinger was even made of. He pivoted gracefully on his heel to meet another attacker, and that is when he saw the him.

The elf, jumping onto a pile of three lifeless carcasses, lunged forwards and climbed up the body of a very live spider that had been descending from a strand of it's silken web from the boughs above. Legolas climbed, wrestling with the eight prying legs that fought to impale him on it's little claws all the way. He slid off the beast, dispatching it with a swift stab to the head that resembled the flicking tongue of a snake. His long legs quickly covered the space between branches and he became a a flash of silver once again, speeding spiders' descent to the ground by smoothly severing their sticky white anchoring cords. Their frantic chitters and crackling thuds as they met the leaf-littered ground boomed over the rushing of blood in Estel's ears as he saw what the elf was trying to do.

He ran to tumbling body after tumbling body, killing them off as fast as he could while they were still disoriented from their fall.

Legolas rushed amongst the branches, quickly glancing down to see if the human needed his aid. Blessedly, he didn't. It soothed the elf some to know that his new friend could at least hold his own; very well at that as well. He moved with pronounced grace that let his tutelage under his brothers and Lord Elrond's seneschal, Glorfindel, shine through prominently.

But now the human had been reduced in his list of worries. He was nearly there; in the center of the nest.

Spiders were not altogether stupid beasts. Yes, they lacked the intelligence to formulate an organized attack, but their specialties included all of breakfast, luncheon, and supper. Meaning, they had much practice to get the pattern of a warrior's tendencies and lure them into their sticky traps. When encountering a spider's nest, the first thing a warrior thinks of is destroying the source, or the thing that would cause the beasts the most harm and discourage them from the fight, which, logically, was the center of the nest. It was the same mentality that targeted an assassin's aim to Generals or Captains of higher ranks, because their loss would prove more crippling than that of an ordinary soldier. Noting this, the spiders usually sent a horde to try and dispatch or decapitate their quarry, while the rest of the spiders stayed in a loose formation around the perimeter of the nest, should the prey target the nest. The warrior, if he survived the first overwhelming horde, would do everything in his power to destroy the nest, easily breaking through the perimeter and going into the center. Yet little did he know that is where the real danger lay, for near-inescapable webs lined their little fortress. The warrior would eventually trap himself, making an easy meal.

Legolas had been trying to follow the path of the perimeter and at least decapitate the beasts enough for the human below to finish them off. But this was a rather large nest, meaning there were more webs. Before he really knew what was happening, the elf had been knocked to side by another spider that had barreled down on him from above in higher branches. He quickly regained his bearing by leaping on a thinner limb closer to the center, realizing grimly that is exactly what the beast had wanted. The thin black branch vibrated slightly under his weight, then spasmed violently as three more spiders bore down the same branch, chattering and squealing in anger. Legolas slashed off a pair of claws and spun to stab another in the eye. Unfortunately, that put the third spider behind him. The tiny limb seized under the combined weight of both creatures, throwing the elf's pivot slightly off-kilter. His foot slid off the thin beam and plunged thigh-deep into a bouncy sling. His other foot slipped as well in the drastic tip of weight and he clamped the back of his knee over the branch to keep from tipping backwards into the thick net of webs that he was sure awaited him below.

His blood froze; he was unable to bring his leg back up to regain his balance. He was caught. Legolas' mind raced as he struggled against the sticky hold and whipped around frantically when he realized the third spider was no longer in front of him. The cursed beast wasn't behind him either, but more were bearing down on his flank with each passing second. A faint tightening in his collapsed leg made him look down as he parried a stinger from above. With growing horror he saw the third spider curled around his leg, weaving a thicker net around it and readying itself to tug him into certain demise. He ducked his head to avoid getting his face slashed in half and sank deeper off the branch as it bent under more weight. His knee still draped over the branch was already chin-level. He gritted his teeth in effort, trying to resist another relentless tug.

He caught a glimpse of movement in his periphery, but it was no spider.

A hook-like claw hooked his wrist in his moment of distraction. His blade bounced down the branches and embedded itself in the dirt many feet below. He wrenched his hand away as more beasts—there were approximately ten now— circled him, excited by the smell of blood.

Legolas looked back to Estel, who was now fighting from the limbs. Then it struck him. The Prince had always been surrounded by other elves. Citizens, bodyguards, his patrol, they had all protected him. Now he was mostly alone. Suddenly he felt very, very young, and very, very afraid.

It was only Estel. One man. The human could not save Legolas; it was questionable if the man could even save himself from this dandy predicament.

Perhaps Estel had become suddenly inattentive in spotting the elf's predicament, or the Valar decided to humor him with his recent thought. Legolas thought the latter was more likely, for a rather ugly and larger spider slowly began to descend behind the human. A sharp pain bloomed in Legolas' knee that was still futilely trying to hold him to the flimsy branch. He slipped farther down and warm blood trickled through his leggings. He gave a longing look to the blade in his hand, then back to the unaware human as he picked his way closer to his new friend. He drew the blade back and let it fly. It sliced through the air, embedding itself in the beast's eye. Estel whirled around in time to witness the lifeless body of a spider tipping over the branch he stood on. He gripped the hilt sticking out of the spider's head and held on tight as the weapon wrenched itself free as the monstrosity fell.

He stared at it in disbelief for a moment before furiously resuming his charge on the beasts that surrounded his friend. With growing horror, he saw that Legolas had just used his last weapon to save him, leaving nothing but his bow to defend himself, but even that was uselessly strapped to his back.

Legolas did not really need it, however, for the spiders had ceased their attempts to lash at him and instead danced around him, spinning webs around his slipping body. His elbows were already pinned against him with webs and shivers went down his spine as the sticky webs twirled around his neck and brushed his cheek like plaster. His hands gripped the branch in a white-knuckled grip, trying to pull himself up and keep his leg draped over the branch so the spiders could not string his ankles together and leave him with no means of landing safely.

Their small claws rained down on his fingers and knee, their wheezing breath harsh in his ears as he stared into their adder-like eyes with despair. How he wanted to be home!

He slid his hand down the branch to avoid it being skewered and jerked painfully as a claw found it's mark in his knee and twisted, tearing at the tissue. He reached forwards to yank out the claw, his breath fast and wobbly against the pain.

Looking back on this moment, Legolas might've said he could avoided what came next had he been aware of it sooner, but in reality so many webs strung him together, he would have helpless against the needle-like stinger, oozing with a black tar-ish ichor swinging down towards him. Excruciating pain erupted in his side and shot through his nerves. His veins were on fire and his vision blurred with moisture as a scream tore his throat through his gritted teeth. He moaned again as the beast jerked the stinger into him harsher, the sickening grating noice of the metallic-like stinger grinding against his ribs making his stomach want to revolt. More fire spread through him and he let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding as the stinger jerked out. His fingers trembled and tears leaked from his eyes and made tracks on his sooty face as he struggled against the cloying black tendrils of sweet oblivion. His leg was slipping. More webs whirled around and around. He couldn't see! He couldn't breathe! Valar, help me!

Legolas tossed his head to the side and tore some of the string from his face, but it did not help the ominous tightening around his chest. He struggled for air and released a hand to claw at his neck. He needed to breathe! A red haze was glazing his vision as the fire pulsed in his head and warm blood gushed out of his side.

Estel stared in horror at the struggling elf. Anger quickly heated his face and strengthened his weary limbs. He could almost hear Glorfindel's authoritative baritone admonish him 'A clear head is one still attached to your shoulders. Do not let emotion control your actions.'

Estel closed his eyes for a second to clear his mind. Being reckless would not be a help to either of them now. The silver orbs reopened with a deadly determination that could put his brothers' to shame.

Aragorn sheathed his sword and tucked Legolas' dagger in his belt. He crouched down with taut limbs vibrating with the motion the writhing beasts created as they crowded closer to the sudden abundance of sweet blood in anticipation. Sensing the right moment, he lunged forwards, kicking away slashing claws and resisting the need to cover his ears against the grating, furious shrieks the spiders emitted as he wooshed past them and barreled into the dangling elf, unsettling his hold on the branch. They crashed through layers and layers of web netting to the forest floor. The webs had not been thick enough to support the human; apparently not many humans ever wandered this forest.

The blond creature let out a heart-twisting yell as Aragorn circled his arms around the elf's middle to hold him to himself as they tumbled down, down, down. To his horror, his hand came in contact with the unmistakable tainting wetness of flowing blood. A split-second after they hit the ground, Aragorn picked up the other dagger from where it had stuck in the ground and stowed it safely in it's sheath. After adjusting his grip on the elf's light body, ran as if the very hounds of Morgoth were chasing him, which, in grim reality was not all that wrong.

His legs pumped faster and faster, his energy feeding off the seemingly endless adrenaline store in his gut as a desperate fear and urgency gave his feet wings.

Minutes passed and Estel's lungs began to burn with a fierce fire that spewed down to his legs. Beads of exertion dribbled down his brow and he panted with great heaves of air that jostled Legolas' limp head against his shoulder. He had blessedly passed out sometime ago. His painful moans and whimpers had had been becoming too much for Estel, especially since he knew slowing down could end with them being wound up in webs like some nice, meaty dumplings.

The webs twined around the elf were disgusting to the touch and he could not imagine how horrible it might feel to be covered in them as his friend was. He vowed to get the repulsive, sticky string off his friend as soon as they could afford a respite in their flight.

The human was also growing steadily concerned by the blood seeping out of Legolas' side. He had pressed his hand against what felt to be a stab wound in a primitive attempt to staunch the bleeding. He refused to let his mind think on what could happen if this was more serious than he initially thought. His arms trembled from being held in one position for so long and he cast a wary glance over his shoulder, though the creatures had stopped following them several minutes before. But it never hurt to be safe. He let his mind replay the constructive tone of Glorfindel's charming voice.

Few minutes later, he was ready to drop. But he could not stop running. 'Never assume, Estel. Never.' His legs screamed at him that maybe they were gone, just this once. Their violent trembling told him he needed to tend to Legolas, but he knew that was the flesh's excuse for wanting so desperately to stop.

So focused was he on keeping the precious bundle secure in his arms and keeping his legs pumping, Aragorn failed to notice that the trees had thinned out considerably since encountering the nest, and the spread shadow that bore down above him. The next thing he knew was the rushing of wind in his ears as scaled talons curled around him and lifted him off the ground. A relieved smile broke the determination on his grimy face. The Eagle. The Eagle had come.

They rose above the treetops, and Estel hugged Legolas to himself tighter as guttural chittering and furious squeaking erupted from the shadows of the trees below. He smiled himself and mentally thanked Glorfindel.

Dumplings indeed.

They were alright. They would be alright. He laughed aloud in shaking relief, unaware of the taut fear that had gripped him until it had been released. "Namarië! wretched spawn of Ungoliant!" he yelled gleefully into the sky.

He leaned down to the limp figure in his arms. He tried to ignore the disturbingly white pallor of his face and talked to him excitedly. "We did it! We have prevailed over the filthy creatures!" The human laughed breathily into the elf's delicate ear. "We did it," he said, his voice stretched by the grin on his lips and breathless from the refreshing exhilaration of flying.

Aragorn watched the shifting landscape below them. The trees thinned drastically. He enjoyed the light feel of freedom and the rush of wind in his hair. They crossed the eastern border of Mirkwood; the Eagle began to descend, probably sensing Estel's need to tend to Legolas immediately.

They touched down gracefully in a spiral of wind as the great bird let them down and ruffled it's feathers in exhilaration.

Estel gently placed the motionless elf in a patch of scrubby grass, conveniently away from any of the equally scrubby trees that dotted the area, lest contact with it should waken the poor, wounded creature; Estel did not want Legolas to be awake for his checkup. Prying the web-coated elf from his arms was a different matter entirely. The web seemed to have little claws that cloyed onto his clothing and refused to let go. Eventually, he was able to peel himself away. He cut the webs off Legolas with disgusted vigor. The crawling sensation on his skin as he touched the stuff did not recede but seemed to get worse as he continued to rip it away from the elf's limp body. He shivered as the very thought of that stuff touching his face or wind around his neck as it had done with his friend.

He frisked the elf, lest the weapons prick him into consciousness or cause him any discomfort. With shaking hands, Estel undid the clasps of the blood-soaked tunic and grimaced. A small hole was punctured in Legolas' torso, right under his rib cage. It was already surrounded by angry red scar tissue; his elven healing working frantically to seal the spewing wound. Black tendrils underneath the skin stretched out from the puncture like black lighting forking across a white sky, spreading in all directions. It was the venom. It turned the color of his veins from a delicate violet to pulsating black ichor and clawed forward over his body, reaching for his neck. His lips nearly blended in with the deathly white pallor of his face and his undirtied golden locks pooled around him like the sun's tender rays; the only natural color about the Prince.

Aragorn frantically tore strips from his cloak and soaked them with water from his water skin and pressed them to the wound to stop the bleeding while trying to cleanse it with the little that was let in his water skin.

He had no healing supplies, no anti-venom, and knew next to nothing about how to handle his friend's current condition. He looked worriedly to where Legolas lay, seemingly boneless and dead, a brownish stain growing on the dark grey strip of Aragorn's cloak wrapped around his torso. His eyes were still closed.

Estel proceeded to tend to the elf's cut knee and sighed, looking to the dark ending sky. He shivered and pinned the remnant of his cloak over his shoulders and looked longingly to the scattered pieces of dead branches strewn across the ground. He dared not light a fire, for he did not recognize the area Eagle had decided to land, and knew not if it belonged to friend or foe. Him and Legolas were in no condition to meet any other beasts of darkness at the moment either.

The Eagle had nestled itself under a large scrub and dozed.

Not even an hour had passed when Legolas' brow twisted in distress and he elicited a pained moan. Aragorn rushed to his side; he had just finished putting everything back into their packs.

The human gently cupped the elf's face in hand and cursed at the heat radiating from his skin. He noticed now that his cheeks had flushed a blush of red and his forehead glistened with a thin sheen of perspiration; rather unnatural for one of the Firstborn. Once again shaking with dread, Estel tore the makeshift bandage from the elf's middle and probed at the wound. He muttered an apology as Legolas moaned again, louder. He relaxed slightly to see that everything was as it should be; there was no sign that it was an infection that caused the fever. He re-wrapped the bandage, folding it over so that the area that would cover the wound was clean.

He felt the Eagle's large eyes on his back twisted on his heels to face the tension radiating from the bird. It's eyes were wide, head cocked to the side and neck straight with lifted feathers, attentive and listening.

"What do you sense?" Estel whispered, his hands hovering over his friend's chest, grimacing at the irregular shuddering rise and fall.

The Eagle did not answer and it's head whipped the other direction, eyes wider. It quickly got to it's feet. Aragorn's alarm grew. He moved to put Legolas' tunic back on.

The Eagle lowered itself and spread it's wings, neck feathers ruffled out.

"They are coming!" it whispered hoarsely. "I cannot stay!"

Legolas moaned and attempted to speak but it only came out as a muffled croak and he turned his head to the side with a wince; the only movement from him since the incident.

Estel's wide eyes darted from Legolas to the Eagle, as large and silver as a full moon. "What—?"

"I cannot help you! They are coming; I must fly!"

"No! Don't leave us! We cannot face any other dangers alone!"

The Eagle danced nervously. "I must fly! They cannot see me!"

The Eagle bunched it's muscles for take-off.

Estel's heart raced as he fumbled with the catches on Legolas' tunic. The elf took in a large gasp of breath and his eyes snapped open, glazed in a fevered pain.

"Listen to me!" Estel cried. "You must find the King!" The Eagle lifted off the ground with a great woosh of air. "Find the King!" Aragorn yelled to the gliding creature as it became smaller and smaller with distance.

His attention snapped back to Legolas who once again tried to speak. The whisper died in his throat and he blinked harshly. He was still gasping for breath but he seemed unable to move any other part of his body. His brow was still twisted in distress and his eyes were troubled. "E-Es-te-el," he finally managed to croak.

"What is it?" The human's voice was hurried and eyes frightened; taut as a bowstring.

"S-so—" Estel's heart sped up like a racehorse in the final stretch.

"What is it!? Legolas, speak!"

The elf's brow furrowed in cross frustration. "Som-ething draws ne-ar."

Aragorn turned sharply to scan his surroundings and strained to catch any unordinary sounds; he was met with nothing but the wind sighing through the prairie sod.

He knelt back down and clutched Legolas' shoulders. "What do you hear?"

"I—"

"Time is of the essence, else you be the death of me! Pray speak!" He had never been this close. Never. The bloodied form of his father played through his mind.

Legolas' eyes flashed despite their glazed appearance and he struggled to draw breath. "I-I cannot move!"

Aragorn shook his shoulders in frustration, wrenching a cry of pain from the injured elf. "What do you hear?!"

A red haze covered the Prince's vision and tried in vain to move his arms. Pain stole his breath and shot through him like fire. "It—i—" He choked as a black liquid stained his lips.

Nearly sobbing in fear, Estel pulled down the collar of Legolas' tunic after glancing around him once again. The black tendrils of poison darkened the life-vein in his neck and began to make little black starbursts on his cheeks. Estel turned him on his side and let him spit out the venom pooling in his throat. He scooped the elf up in his arms and cradled his head, glancing around fearfully. The fate of being tormented to death by some dark beasts terrified him beyond anything else.

He slung on his pack and began to run in any mindless direction. Legolas' eyes glistened with all the jerking movements and he finally managed to curl his fingers into Aragorn's sleeve. He tried to speak again but was interrupted with a pained gasp. "S-low!"

Estel's fearful eyes stayed on the road ahead and the elf could feel him weakening drastically. "E-ste-l! La-sto nin!" The human glanced down at him but continued to plow ahead. They jolted again and a yelp escaped his lips. His vision was darkening and he would surely lose consciousness if they continued on like this.

"Hush! We must flee else we be torn to pieces!"

"N-not or-cs!" Legolas whispered frantically.

The silver eyes shot down to him. "What?"

"Daro! It's— not—orcs!" he finally managed.

Aragorn stopped abruptly. The elf hissed and he muttered an apology. "Well then what is it?"

He was well aware of trampling footsteps that encased them from all sides. His heart pounded.

"N-not evil."

The human relaxed somewhat. That sounded better. He hoped.

People started streaming from the trees. Men. Estel's relief was short-lived. Apparently, Legolas had noticed this as well, for he bucked slightly and reached a trembling hand to where his knives were supposed to be, apprehension sweeping through him as he felt neither his knives or his quiver. He could barely move much less fight, but the familiar feel and weight of a weapon was comforting and that was something he craved desperately.

Aragorn cursed with trembling breath and managed to draw his sword despite the bundle draped over his arms. He would be darned if he let anyone further harm the Prince.

Several men rushed him at a time and he clumsily swung his sword. Instead of taking advantage of his vulnerability and skewering him, one of the men merely parried away his thrust and unexpectedly yanked the elf out of his arms. His cry of surprise mingled with the Prince's cry of pain. The blade was wrenched from his hands and they were secured behind him. He strained to see what was happening to Legolas.

Blackness threatened his bleary vision, and his temporary state of paralysis infuriated him as he was pulled away from Estel, helpless against their fate. He prayed to the Valar he hadn't just condemned his kingdom to rule under a tyrannical usurper and bucked feebly. Voices of different tenors swam around him and he could feel himself fading away. His squeezed his eyes closed and braced himself against the pain of being jostled around by this stranger. A deeper, harsher baritone made its way through his smeared reality and he slightly jumped at how it grated insensitively against his hearing. He faintly recalled Estel shouting in the background and felt the cool hardness of the ground beneath his back as he was lowered. He was absently aware of the venom pooling in his throat again and trickling from his lips. Rough, calloused hands brushed his forehead and he struggled to see what was happening around him. The fingers pulled at his eyelids as a hand pressed his bruised rib and pain welcomed the sinking blackness descending over him. The last thing he saw was a bright flash of light as his eye was pulled open and a wavering face with a full black beard as he fell into darkness and knew no more.

So caught up in struggling was Aragorn, that he failed to notice the other beings that had graced the human patrol with their presence until now. He shouted and fought more fiercely when he caught a glimpse of a familiar shock of glistening golden hair sprawled on the ground and a stout figure hunched over him. He yelled again in protest as Legolas was blocked from his vision. A muffled order sounded and the men holding him let him see his elven friend. He was now able to get a good glimpse at the new creatures that had joined them. His heart lurched in surprise as a scowling, thickly-black-bearded face looked up from where the elf lay. His demeanor matched the other new beings in form and in stature, and Aragorn was immediately frozen in shock.

Dwarves.

He knew not if their presence would mean good or ill for them. The way their luck was going, probably ill. He had no more time to ponder this as he was struck from behind and embraced by oblivion.

oOoOoOo

...I have nothing to say for myself.

Once again eternal thanks to my faithful beta and mellon, Scribbles-on-Parchment. Missed you!

Thank you all for RandR! Any advice y'all have for me would be greatly appreciated :)

Dream Plane— I do not mind at all ;) And as for the Ring becoming evil... we will come to that. Soon I hope ;) Thanks for taking the time to review and I hope you enjoy!