Chapter 2
A few days had passed since he had set out from Gondor. Arod had taken little rest, and Legolas less. But they were nearing the woodland. Now all that remained to cross was a large grassy hill. With a deep breath, he gently brushed the horse's flanks and his mount started forward up the hill.
As they rose over the verge, Legolas finally laid eyes upon his home once more. He rejoiced at the sight of the great and ancient oaks, even as his heart fluttered uncertainly in his chest. With a whisper, he urged his Rohirrim steed forward again, descending the hill, and entering Mirkwood.
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The trees were dark and dense, little light peering through, even in the bright of the summer day. Few animals were daring enough to skitter across his path as Arod stepped forth. A few straggling strands of spider silk dangled from the tree tops, stirring occasionally in the stale wind. Yet despite these foreboding sights, Legolas felt at home once more. This was the forest he loved, the woods he had spent all his life in; this was his home that he had longed for since leaving.
Yet he was careful to pass far from the ruins of Sauron's former haunt, Dol Guldur, where faint wisps of smoke still could be seen spiraling into the air by a fine eye. A few straggling orcs still haunted the Southern woods, often preying upon weary and unwary travelers. The golden-haired prince had no intention of being one of these unfortunate souls. These thoughts stirring in his mind, he pushed his horse on faster, even as his apprehension grew.
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