Thranduil's Longest Day
By SkyFire
For disclaimer, see part 1.
A/N: Sorry about the looooong delay between chapters; been sick on and off since mid-April (more on than off, too. *sigh*). Hope this was worth it; I know next chapter certainly is! *grin*
Emphasis (italics) is in * *. Thoughts are in // //.
.
*********
Thranduil's Longest Day
By SkyFire
Part 4
Barely an hour's ride into their return, the sunny skies above clouded over, the last of the blue skies disappearing within minutes.
Thranduil looked up as the first few drops of rain pattered softly to the forest floor. He saw, beyond the tangled branches above, that the skies that had been so clear and blue were now nearly black with barely-held-back rain.
As if in response to his glance upward, the skies chose that moment to open up, loosing a deluge of rain that soaked them all within seconds.
With a small sound of disgust, Thranduil pulled his hood over his wet head, wrapped his soggy cloak closer about himself. It did little good; a hard wind had joined the rain, sending cloaks flapping madly, allowing the rain to drench them further as it fell nearly sideways.
It was like riding through curtain after curtain of water, Thranduil decided as they rode. Cold, wet, and miserable, he pulled his cloak tighter as the wind once again caught it up. He blinked the water from his eyelashes, looked over to the others of his party to reassure himself that the others were equally as miserable.
Looked again.
//This cannot be happening,// he grumbled to himself. Raising one soaked hand, he brushed his face free of rain, then looked around him once more, already knowing what he would find.
Trees. Moss. Ferns. Rocks. Rain, everywhere, cutting visibility to nearly nothing.
Wait.
He gave his horse the command to stop, then looked around yet again, doing his best to ignore the dull flashes of pain that came from his wound as he twisted about on his horse, peering all around him.
No Elves. He was alone.
Thranduil sighed. //Wonderful,// he thought to himself. //Everyone else has gotten themselves lost.//
For a few minutes longer, he waited there for the others to show up. They didn't.
At last, he shrugged. They had long-laid plans in place for occasions such as those; if the party became separated, each member would abandon the hunt and make their way back to the palace. Though he knew that this had happened occasionally to other groups, it was a plan that Thranduil had never actually had to use himself.
One last look around, looking for both his companions and the direction of his halls, then Thranduil urged his horse onward in his chosen direction.
***
Thranduil leaned wearily against the rough bark of the tree behind him, glared tiredly up at the rain-dark skies above, occasionally seen through the thick canopy of the forest.
His wet hair hung about his shoulders in ropy strands, dripping. He ignored it as best he could in his miserable state.
His cloak had made an admirable attempt to keep him at least partially dry, but at long last its efforts had been in vain. His soaked hunting leathers clung to him, shafing him with every motion he made. The damp didn't help his disposition any, especially when added to the throbbing from his arrow wound; the cold and damp seemed intent on bringing out the worst in him.
Lowering his gaze from the branches above, he looked to his horse. Though it was easily as soaked as he was, it seemed to be *enjoying* the rain as it grazed on a small patch of grass in a small clearing nearby, formed by the fall of a great tree.
He growled beneath his breath.
Thranduil turned his glare once more to the skies above, from which the torrential rains continued to pour.
At last, he judged that the rains had let up some... or at least that he was tired of waiting and longed to get back to his palace and the nice warm bed that awaited him. Whistling Mîrsador over, he painfully mounted, then they started once more on their journey toward home.
As luck would have it, not five minutes after leaving the clearing, Thranduil came across one of his companions, who was also making his way back.
He had already hailed the other before he consciously realized who it was; the young Elf that had shot him.
//It just *had* to be that one,// he grumbled to himself. Then he stepped firmly on the uncharitable thoughts that came to mind. //Ease off, Thranduil,// he thought to himself, //it *was* simply an accident. It is not as if he is going to do it aga--// He cut the thought off short. //No, Thranduil, don't even *think* it. Do *not* tempt fate.//
In the split seconds the mental conversation had taken, the young one had startled at Thranduil's call, pivoted swiftly in the direction of the call, and--
Thranduil quickly ducked as a ragged-feathered arrow cut through the air in the space where his head had been only moments before.
//That *idiot*!// Thranduil seethed as he straightened, wound throbbing in agreement. //He seems *determined* to perforate me.// Then he grinned. //Perhaps when we get back I should have him locked into a large, empty room in the palace,then shoot a few quiver-fulls at *him*!//
The young hunter, already pale from seeing who it was that he had almost shot //again//, paled even further upon seeing the maniacal grin and crazed look that Thranduil was aiming his way. Eyes wide and dark with fear, he yelped, then urged his horse off into the forest, moving as quickly as they could away from the Elvenking.
//I suddenly have a *driving* urge to visit Mother's distant kin in 'Lórien,// he thought as he went. Lothlórien was as good a destination as any. //But is it far enough away from *him*?//
Thrnaduil blinked, stared as the younger Elf tore off through the wood as if the Nine pursued him. A quick look around showed there to be no Black Riders in sight. He shrugged in dismissal.
Alone once again, he once more urged Mîrsador on in the direction of his palace. Already, he could hear the chuckling and gurgling of last river he would have to ford. After that, it was a straight ride to his palace, over the bridge that crossed the Forest River, then in and to bed.
//Soon,// he told himself as they made their way to the ford. //Soon, I'll be home.//
TBC...
.
So, like it? A bit slower-paced than the others, I think, but next chapter will make up for it! *grin* Anyways, if you liked it, click the button down there and leave a review! The plotbunnies will love you for it!
By SkyFire
For disclaimer, see part 1.
A/N: Sorry about the looooong delay between chapters; been sick on and off since mid-April (more on than off, too. *sigh*). Hope this was worth it; I know next chapter certainly is! *grin*
Emphasis (italics) is in * *. Thoughts are in // //.
.
*********
Thranduil's Longest Day
By SkyFire
Part 4
Barely an hour's ride into their return, the sunny skies above clouded over, the last of the blue skies disappearing within minutes.
Thranduil looked up as the first few drops of rain pattered softly to the forest floor. He saw, beyond the tangled branches above, that the skies that had been so clear and blue were now nearly black with barely-held-back rain.
As if in response to his glance upward, the skies chose that moment to open up, loosing a deluge of rain that soaked them all within seconds.
With a small sound of disgust, Thranduil pulled his hood over his wet head, wrapped his soggy cloak closer about himself. It did little good; a hard wind had joined the rain, sending cloaks flapping madly, allowing the rain to drench them further as it fell nearly sideways.
It was like riding through curtain after curtain of water, Thranduil decided as they rode. Cold, wet, and miserable, he pulled his cloak tighter as the wind once again caught it up. He blinked the water from his eyelashes, looked over to the others of his party to reassure himself that the others were equally as miserable.
Looked again.
//This cannot be happening,// he grumbled to himself. Raising one soaked hand, he brushed his face free of rain, then looked around him once more, already knowing what he would find.
Trees. Moss. Ferns. Rocks. Rain, everywhere, cutting visibility to nearly nothing.
Wait.
He gave his horse the command to stop, then looked around yet again, doing his best to ignore the dull flashes of pain that came from his wound as he twisted about on his horse, peering all around him.
No Elves. He was alone.
Thranduil sighed. //Wonderful,// he thought to himself. //Everyone else has gotten themselves lost.//
For a few minutes longer, he waited there for the others to show up. They didn't.
At last, he shrugged. They had long-laid plans in place for occasions such as those; if the party became separated, each member would abandon the hunt and make their way back to the palace. Though he knew that this had happened occasionally to other groups, it was a plan that Thranduil had never actually had to use himself.
One last look around, looking for both his companions and the direction of his halls, then Thranduil urged his horse onward in his chosen direction.
***
Thranduil leaned wearily against the rough bark of the tree behind him, glared tiredly up at the rain-dark skies above, occasionally seen through the thick canopy of the forest.
His wet hair hung about his shoulders in ropy strands, dripping. He ignored it as best he could in his miserable state.
His cloak had made an admirable attempt to keep him at least partially dry, but at long last its efforts had been in vain. His soaked hunting leathers clung to him, shafing him with every motion he made. The damp didn't help his disposition any, especially when added to the throbbing from his arrow wound; the cold and damp seemed intent on bringing out the worst in him.
Lowering his gaze from the branches above, he looked to his horse. Though it was easily as soaked as he was, it seemed to be *enjoying* the rain as it grazed on a small patch of grass in a small clearing nearby, formed by the fall of a great tree.
He growled beneath his breath.
Thranduil turned his glare once more to the skies above, from which the torrential rains continued to pour.
At last, he judged that the rains had let up some... or at least that he was tired of waiting and longed to get back to his palace and the nice warm bed that awaited him. Whistling Mîrsador over, he painfully mounted, then they started once more on their journey toward home.
As luck would have it, not five minutes after leaving the clearing, Thranduil came across one of his companions, who was also making his way back.
He had already hailed the other before he consciously realized who it was; the young Elf that had shot him.
//It just *had* to be that one,// he grumbled to himself. Then he stepped firmly on the uncharitable thoughts that came to mind. //Ease off, Thranduil,// he thought to himself, //it *was* simply an accident. It is not as if he is going to do it aga--// He cut the thought off short. //No, Thranduil, don't even *think* it. Do *not* tempt fate.//
In the split seconds the mental conversation had taken, the young one had startled at Thranduil's call, pivoted swiftly in the direction of the call, and--
Thranduil quickly ducked as a ragged-feathered arrow cut through the air in the space where his head had been only moments before.
//That *idiot*!// Thranduil seethed as he straightened, wound throbbing in agreement. //He seems *determined* to perforate me.// Then he grinned. //Perhaps when we get back I should have him locked into a large, empty room in the palace,then shoot a few quiver-fulls at *him*!//
The young hunter, already pale from seeing who it was that he had almost shot //again//, paled even further upon seeing the maniacal grin and crazed look that Thranduil was aiming his way. Eyes wide and dark with fear, he yelped, then urged his horse off into the forest, moving as quickly as they could away from the Elvenking.
//I suddenly have a *driving* urge to visit Mother's distant kin in 'Lórien,// he thought as he went. Lothlórien was as good a destination as any. //But is it far enough away from *him*?//
Thrnaduil blinked, stared as the younger Elf tore off through the wood as if the Nine pursued him. A quick look around showed there to be no Black Riders in sight. He shrugged in dismissal.
Alone once again, he once more urged Mîrsador on in the direction of his palace. Already, he could hear the chuckling and gurgling of last river he would have to ford. After that, it was a straight ride to his palace, over the bridge that crossed the Forest River, then in and to bed.
//Soon,// he told himself as they made their way to the ford. //Soon, I'll be home.//
TBC...
.
So, like it? A bit slower-paced than the others, I think, but next chapter will make up for it! *grin* Anyways, if you liked it, click the button down there and leave a review! The plotbunnies will love you for it!