Legolas heard the ominous howl over the tree tops and was immediately on his feet. The howl that had every elf on alert, their weapons in hand. He started to head towards where the horses had been put up for the night, only to see them dashing away, much to the dismay of all there.
"An orc pack," said Haleth as he stood beside Legolas, both of them gazing out at the darkness. "Coming out of the Misty Mountains; perhaps four score and more as the scouts have been able to access."
"Arm yourselves," Legolas instructed as he took his bow in hand and an arrow in another. "Put out the fire."
Legolas knew that wouldn't be enough. Elves had keen senses even in the dark, but so did orcs. He doubted the night would hinder his enemies in any way. Turning, he hurried to the carriage and peered through the curtains to find Thranduil sitting up in bed.
The king had been bedridden through much of their passage through Mirkwood. He drifted in and out of consciousness and Legolas worried if the journey would take more time than Thranduil had. Legolas had no idea how to assess just how ill his father really was, the healer keeping constant vigil over him warned that he was growing weaker.
But there he was, sitting up for the first time since his collapse. The healer glanced at Legolas with concern. "He came to moments ago," the healer explained. "He was asking for you."
"Indeed," Thranduil said dryly, throwing a pensive glance at his son. "I would like to know why I am out here this far from my kingdom and about to be overrun by orcs."
Even now, as Legolas met his father's eyes, his dark orbs glistening in the light of a lantern hanging overhead, he still saw how dim those eyes seemed, how distant. Though the king was conscious and apparently coherent, he was still not well by any sense of the word.
"I haven't the time to explain," the elf prince responded, his breath catching in his throat as the piercing sound of another howl, much closer this time caused commotion as the camping elves readied themselves for the oncoming onslaught. "You must stay here, we will protect you."
Legolas didn't give his father time to respond. He didn't have time to listen to Thranduil's criticisms or scoldings. He worried that he had made a mistake in risking this journey, worried that they were all about to be cut down, never to reach Lothlorien. And then Thranduil would be correct. He'd warned about ever leaving his palace, of the dangers that lie beyond their realm. The stubborn king would just assume die locked in his kingdom than to ever leave it, even if it were in his own best interest.
But Legolas didn't have time for regrets now. He rushed out of the carriage, surveying the scene around them. It was late at night, the moon was high in the sky. Fortunately for them, it was a full moon, the light illuminating the night below. Legolas's elf eyes surveyed the night, noticing the silence of the night animals. The crickets, the owls, the croaking frogs, all were silenced, all were still.
The elves had camped on the west banks of the Anduin, keeping the trees of Mirkwood across the river and far to the east and the Misty Mountains to the west. They had crossed just south of the Gladden river and had made the Gladden Fields, a flat marshland, their pit stop. They had found a large patch of dry land whereas the surrounding marshlands were muddy and made for difficult terrain. The woods of Lothlorien, still many miles south, were close, yet still at least a day away.
Though Legolas doubted the wisdom of camping so close to the river, in this marshland, they had no other choice. They had become weary by many miles at a slow pace without rest. Even the endurance of elves had been taxed by the effort of forging the river with the carriage.
"Who is our enemy?" Drizzt asked as he and Zaknafein joined the elven prince as he stood motionless, gripping his bow, eyes fixed northwards. The elf had almost forgotten about his dark elf companions, his thoughts had been only of delivering his father to the grace of Lady Galadriel. If only they could get to her, they would be safe and all would be well.
"Orcs on wargs," Legolas explained. "Coming out of the mountains. They are always a danger to travellers on the Anduin. We had hoped to make it to Lady Galadriel before we were discovered here."
"We know well the vileness of orcs," Zaknafein commented, his scimitars already in hand as father and son stood at the ready. "You will find us potent allies this night." With that, Drizzt stepped forward and pulled something out of his pocket. Legolas's eyes widened at the beautiful onyx statuette of a panther.
"Guenhwyvar," Drizzt explained as he held the statue in his hand. "Come to me, Guenhwyvar." As Legolas and a number of elves around him watched with interest, a grey mist began to swirl around the figurine and before long, the mist manifested into a massive black panther.
"Magnificent," Haleth commented as the giant panther, much more massive than any normal wild cat, waited comfortably at Drizzt's side, ready for action.
The panther would surely be needed, Legolas thought to himself as he took in a breath and nervously and gazed out across the marshes, at the troops of elves standing at the ready, waiting for what was to come. He didn't fear orcs, though he had never personally encountered them- they didn't dare enter Mirkwood Forest, but now he felt the weight of authority. He was the leader here, it was a pressure he wasn't used to.
"Take up arms," he told the drow before hurrying through, making sure his elves were armed and at the ready. "Archers stand ready."
The orcs burst out from the darkness as if they had come out of thin air. Masked by thick march grass, they made for the elves with breakneck speed, as their wargs bore them along, sloshing through the mud.
But the elves were ready for them. "Let the arrows fly!" Legolas called out into the night and instantly, arrows filled the sky, raining down on the orcs from above. Over and over the archers fired and orcs screeched.
And though many hit their targets, felling the monsters, many more orcs reached the elves and they were forced to draw melee weapons. Legolas saw the drow dive into the fray, watching for only a moment as father and son fought together, their magnificent curved blades glistening in the moonlight as they cut down orcs effortlessly. Legolas couldn't help but watch in utter amazement at the skill of these warriors.
And not far away, the magnificent black panther charged into the incoming orcs, the 600 pound massive form plowing into a trio of orcs, raking and biting with abandon.
But he couldn't admire the drow, nor their cat, for long. He swiftly dropped his bow and withdrew his dual long knives and moved in for a strike on the first orc that intercepted him. Gracefully, he lunged in with his left leg and swiped down.
But the orc was ready and met his offense with its dirty blade, metal clanking loudly in the air. The creature rushed in, a partner diving in at Legolas from the side.
The elf whirled, spun back and made a pass at the second orc with a right arm strike, impacting the orc in the shoulder. The creature shrieked and moved to block the elf's second attack, their blades clanking together.
The deadly dance carried on, Legolas lost in the moment, lunging and dodging, blocking and parrying. The orcs were relentless. He was always up against two, sometimes three, as soon as he dropped his first attacker, it was replaced by another.
Legolas was aware of the sounds of battle as metal rang out into the night, squeals and groans, and the chaos of battle. The elves were outnumbered nearly four to one, he knew. But they were trained warriors, every one of them, and many were much older than Legolas and were more familiar with orcs than he was. He trusted them.
But when Legolas drove a blade into an orc's chest and whirled to face another, he saw Haleth fall, his slender body impaled by an orc's spear. The sight of just one dead elf sent Legolas into a fury, he turned on the orc who had slain his kin and cut it down with a furious growl.
"More orcs!" came a cry as more orcs joined the battle, their numbers swelling as they ran across the marshes.
Legolas took only a second to glance around and locate the drow. Piles of orcs lay at Drizzt's feet as he and Zaknafein pressed their backs together, the two working as one. They were so coordinated with one another that it seemed as if they were both extensions of each other. Legolas felt in awe of their skill, but also a little envious of the way father and son fought together, he could only imagine what it might be like to fight alongside Thranduil in such a manner.
Then, as Legolas turned to face more incoming orcs, the sound of a horn blared out into the night, its loud trumpeting sound causing all on the field to pause as dozens of elves on horseback charged into the fray.
"It's the force of Caras Galadhon!" came a cry and Legolas felt a swell of triumph, inspired to jump into the fight once more, his spirits lifted by this timely reinforcement.
The elves of Caras Galadhon, the chief elven city of the Lorien forest, came upon the horrified orcs like water crashing upon rock, the hooves of their mighty horses pounding the muddy ground as they ran down the creatures before they could even register what was happening.
Encouraged by this turn of events, the Mirkwood elves rallied against their enemies and together with their new allies, quickly turned the tide. Soon, the orcs that were not slaughtered were in full retreat, heading back for the mountains.
"Mae g'ovannen, Prince of Mirkwood," came a voice as Legolas turned to face a slender blonde elf who approached him on horseback. He dismounted and pressed his arm against his chest in greeting. "I am Haldir. We have been searching for you all day and all night, it is fortunate we found you when we did."
"We are in your debt. I did not expect to see orcs in such numbers," Legolas admitted as he took a moment to survey the scene. Drizzt and Zaknafein moved to his side, stepping over the many orc bodies laying in the mud, as Guenwhyvar trotted alongside them.
"Their numbers have swelled in recent times," Haldir explained before he saw the strange dark skinned drow, white haired drow, their eyes glowing with heat vision.
"They are from a far away land," Legolas explained, noting Haldir's caution. "Drow elves from an underground realm."
"Zaknafein and Drizzt Do'Urden," Zaknafein greeted, taking a bow in greeting. Haldir nodded his own greeting before his eyes fell upon the massive cat.
"Guenhwyvar is a friend," Drizzt assured the elf, patting Guenhwyvar's massive head as the cat purred with satisfaction. Haldir nodded and accepted the strange dark elves and their panther, turning back to Legolas.
"The Gladden Fields have been a dangerous place as of late," he explained. "Many unwary travellers have been cut down by vast hordes of orcs that come down from the mountains. We do not know yet what is fueling their activities but Lady Galadriel thinks they are coming from the north."
"Three elves lost their lives," one of the soldiers informed them, coming forward to report to Legolas. "The king is secure but he's lost consciousness again."
Legolas frowned and glanced towards the carriage. Three elves had been killed on this journey. That was three too many. Three lives that had been Legolas's job to protect. The guilt quickly seeped into his mind, especially as he anticipated Thranduil's response to this news. The king would be furious. Legolas looked at Haldir, a much older and clearly much more experienced elf than he.
"Come," Haldir insisted gently, putting a hand on the young prince's shoulder. "You will find rest and perhaps answers in the borders of Lothlorien."
Legolas nodded and slowly, "gather the dead," he instructed solemnly to his soldiers as they moved out, eager to be away from this place.