Thranduil's Longest Day
By SkyFire
For disclaimer, see part 1.
A/N: This is the chapter that started it *all*. ;oP It's the first chapter I wrote for this fic,
the thing that inspired all the rest.
.
*****
Thranduil's Longest Day
By SkyFire
Part 5
His horse had barely began to climb out of the river when it happened.
Thranduil shifted his weight slightly as his horse surged beneath him, forehooves landing now on
dry shore as it moved forward at his muttered command. One hand tangled in its mane, he used his
free hand to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder in thanks for having carried him across
the river.
There had been a brief period during which the rain stopped entirely. During that time, his
elven-made garments had had time to dry a bit, and were now simply damp and clammy, his damp
leathers chafing uncomfortably as they dried. Even with the chafing, though, it was by far
better than staying drenched. When the rain started again, though it was pouring, it was not as
hard as it had been, and his cloak kept most of it off.
Having crossed the river mounted, Thranduil was freshly wet nearly to the hip, the wet and
persistant pain from the arrow wound combining to make him decidedly uncomfortable. His cloak
had - so far - managed to keep the rest of him dry against the pouring rain, though a certain
part of him wondered cynically how long *that* would last.
//Yes, all in all, I am *more* than ready to return to the palace, get warm, dry, and fed, then
crawl into bed and not leave it for a *long* time. Or at least once I did leave it, I would not
go anywhere near nervous archers, rivers, rain, tubs, rugs....//
Barely had he finished the thought when his horse, frightened by something in the woods ahead,
reared, neighing wildly in panic.
Not expecting the movement, Thranduil went flying backwards, landing in the river with a splash
and spike of white-hot pain from his wound.
The water, perhaps six feet deep at that point, closed over him. Instantly, the stronger current
a few feet away in the deeper center of the river grabbed hold of his cloak and pulled him along
deeper by the throat.
Strangling, Thranduil clawed desperately at his throat, searching for the cloak's clasp even as
he was dragged along underwater, getting battered by rocks and other debris in the river.
//Where is that damned clasp?!//
Being dragged headfirst downriver by the cloak at his throat, it was his upper body that hit the
obstruction first, the rest of him following quickly, the force of impact knocking the last of
the air from his lungs.
The current doing its best to keep him pinned in place, it was a struggle to move his hand from
his throat to the knife at his belt. Sparing a quick word of thanks to the Valar that his knife
had not been washed away by the rushing waters, he wrapped his fingers firmly about the hilt,
then drew it. It was another battle to raise it to his throat and saw through the strangling
cloak without accidentally slitting his own throat as the unpredictable current tugged at his arm.
Spots danced in front of his eyes as he cut through the fine, thick material; spots from both the
constriction at his throat and the lack of air. Pain shot through him in flashes as he was
repeatedly battered against the obstruction behind him by the water, his arrow wound starting to
bleed again from the merciless pounding.
At last, he managed to cut away the cloak, letting it continue on its journey downriver without
him. Freed of the strangling cloth, the desperate lack of air screamed foremost in his mind.
With an effort, he managed to re-sheath his knife at his waist.
//Thranduil,// he thought to himself as first he struggled to turn around, then edge his way
clear of the thing - a tree's root system, he now saw - that he had been pinned against. //You
might not make it this time.//
Indeed, the surface of the water looked further and further away to his darkening sight.
Then the innate stubbornness for which he was so well known made an appearance. //I am *not*
going to die here,// he growled to himself. //I will *not*.//
Filled briefly with the strength of his determination, he pushed free of the roots, then clawed
his way through the water to the surface, his legs trailing uselessly behind him; kicking
agravated his wound, sent spikes of pain up his spine.
At last, near to blacking out for want of air, his head broke the surface. For a long while, he
could do nothing but gasp for air, his arms working busily to keep him afloat against the pull of
the current. Slowly, the blackness vanished from his sight, leaving it nearly as sharp as he was
used to, though dimmed slightly from bloodloss and pain.
When he was finally able to focus on something besides breathing, he cast a quick look around at
the shores passing by with dizzying speed to either side. The rain had slowed to a gentle shower
and was showing signs of stopping entirely, letting him see the shore easily enough to see that
he was nearing the edge of Mirkwood.
//Have to reach the shore,// he thought to himself.
Gritting his teeth against the pain from his river-given bruises, trailing legs so much dead
weight, arrow wound hurting too much to let him kick, Thranduil clawed his way through the water
toward the shore, his efforts a mockery of his usual quicksilver grace in the water.
Barely had he been washed completely out of the forest when he reached the shallower water near
the shore. Slowly, he managed to crawl from the river, pull himself up the bank and collapse in
the long grasses that grew there. Cracking open one eye, Thranduil could see the eastern outer
edge of Mirkwood, the trees rising abruptly in a dark mass perhaps forty feet away, upriver.
He closed his eyes again, rested his cheek on the grass beneath him. A soft breeze blew across
the plain, making him shiver in his soaked and torn clothing.
Almost as if in an attempt to atone for the so-far horrible day he had been having, the Sun
peeked out from behind the dissipating clouds, shining her warm rays down upon him, slowly drying
his tattered clothing as he lay there, limp, barely conscious.
Hours passed. Still he did not move.
The Sun was sinking into the West in a blood-red sky when Thranduil, still barely able to even
raise his head due to the near-complete exhaustion from his trip down the river, looked up at a
sound near the treeline.
Through the strands of damp hair straggling down in front of his face, he could see the last of
the sun's light glinting ominously from the hungry eyes of the creature standing there.
The hairy grey and black monster stared at him for a few moments more, waiting for the Sun to
vanish completely below the horizon. Then it crept forward, muttering to itself in a high,
squeaky voice all the while.
Body screaming in protest at any move he made, unable to push himself up to get away, Thranduil
could do nothing but lay there and watch as the large, bloated form of the Mirkwood spider neared
him on its clawed feet.
He was helpless as the spider reached out one claw for him, then rolled him this way and that,
watching him closely as it did.
He was unable to hold back a small yelp of surprise and pain when one hard, chitinous claw
prodded him ungently in the ribs and stomach, checking him for life and substance.
Apparently satisfied, it released him, letting him fall back to the grass upon which he had lain.
Then it took careful aim.
As the spider's stinger pierced his shoulder, sending its paralyzing poison into him, the
Elvenking had time for only a single thought.
//Merciful Valar, what did I *do* to deserve this day?!//
Then he thought nothing at all.
TBC...
.
--
I have a couple of ideas as to how to keep on from here... let me know what your guesses are, and
we'll see which I'll end up choosing... *grin*
Reviews make happy plotbunnies, and happy plotbunnies make for more stories/ideas... Feed them by
clicking the button down there! ;oD
By SkyFire
For disclaimer, see part 1.
A/N: This is the chapter that started it *all*. ;oP It's the first chapter I wrote for this fic,
the thing that inspired all the rest.
.
*****
Thranduil's Longest Day
By SkyFire
Part 5
His horse had barely began to climb out of the river when it happened.
Thranduil shifted his weight slightly as his horse surged beneath him, forehooves landing now on
dry shore as it moved forward at his muttered command. One hand tangled in its mane, he used his
free hand to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder in thanks for having carried him across
the river.
There had been a brief period during which the rain stopped entirely. During that time, his
elven-made garments had had time to dry a bit, and were now simply damp and clammy, his damp
leathers chafing uncomfortably as they dried. Even with the chafing, though, it was by far
better than staying drenched. When the rain started again, though it was pouring, it was not as
hard as it had been, and his cloak kept most of it off.
Having crossed the river mounted, Thranduil was freshly wet nearly to the hip, the wet and
persistant pain from the arrow wound combining to make him decidedly uncomfortable. His cloak
had - so far - managed to keep the rest of him dry against the pouring rain, though a certain
part of him wondered cynically how long *that* would last.
//Yes, all in all, I am *more* than ready to return to the palace, get warm, dry, and fed, then
crawl into bed and not leave it for a *long* time. Or at least once I did leave it, I would not
go anywhere near nervous archers, rivers, rain, tubs, rugs....//
Barely had he finished the thought when his horse, frightened by something in the woods ahead,
reared, neighing wildly in panic.
Not expecting the movement, Thranduil went flying backwards, landing in the river with a splash
and spike of white-hot pain from his wound.
The water, perhaps six feet deep at that point, closed over him. Instantly, the stronger current
a few feet away in the deeper center of the river grabbed hold of his cloak and pulled him along
deeper by the throat.
Strangling, Thranduil clawed desperately at his throat, searching for the cloak's clasp even as
he was dragged along underwater, getting battered by rocks and other debris in the river.
//Where is that damned clasp?!//
Being dragged headfirst downriver by the cloak at his throat, it was his upper body that hit the
obstruction first, the rest of him following quickly, the force of impact knocking the last of
the air from his lungs.
The current doing its best to keep him pinned in place, it was a struggle to move his hand from
his throat to the knife at his belt. Sparing a quick word of thanks to the Valar that his knife
had not been washed away by the rushing waters, he wrapped his fingers firmly about the hilt,
then drew it. It was another battle to raise it to his throat and saw through the strangling
cloak without accidentally slitting his own throat as the unpredictable current tugged at his arm.
Spots danced in front of his eyes as he cut through the fine, thick material; spots from both the
constriction at his throat and the lack of air. Pain shot through him in flashes as he was
repeatedly battered against the obstruction behind him by the water, his arrow wound starting to
bleed again from the merciless pounding.
At last, he managed to cut away the cloak, letting it continue on its journey downriver without
him. Freed of the strangling cloth, the desperate lack of air screamed foremost in his mind.
With an effort, he managed to re-sheath his knife at his waist.
//Thranduil,// he thought to himself as first he struggled to turn around, then edge his way
clear of the thing - a tree's root system, he now saw - that he had been pinned against. //You
might not make it this time.//
Indeed, the surface of the water looked further and further away to his darkening sight.
Then the innate stubbornness for which he was so well known made an appearance. //I am *not*
going to die here,// he growled to himself. //I will *not*.//
Filled briefly with the strength of his determination, he pushed free of the roots, then clawed
his way through the water to the surface, his legs trailing uselessly behind him; kicking
agravated his wound, sent spikes of pain up his spine.
At last, near to blacking out for want of air, his head broke the surface. For a long while, he
could do nothing but gasp for air, his arms working busily to keep him afloat against the pull of
the current. Slowly, the blackness vanished from his sight, leaving it nearly as sharp as he was
used to, though dimmed slightly from bloodloss and pain.
When he was finally able to focus on something besides breathing, he cast a quick look around at
the shores passing by with dizzying speed to either side. The rain had slowed to a gentle shower
and was showing signs of stopping entirely, letting him see the shore easily enough to see that
he was nearing the edge of Mirkwood.
//Have to reach the shore,// he thought to himself.
Gritting his teeth against the pain from his river-given bruises, trailing legs so much dead
weight, arrow wound hurting too much to let him kick, Thranduil clawed his way through the water
toward the shore, his efforts a mockery of his usual quicksilver grace in the water.
Barely had he been washed completely out of the forest when he reached the shallower water near
the shore. Slowly, he managed to crawl from the river, pull himself up the bank and collapse in
the long grasses that grew there. Cracking open one eye, Thranduil could see the eastern outer
edge of Mirkwood, the trees rising abruptly in a dark mass perhaps forty feet away, upriver.
He closed his eyes again, rested his cheek on the grass beneath him. A soft breeze blew across
the plain, making him shiver in his soaked and torn clothing.
Almost as if in an attempt to atone for the so-far horrible day he had been having, the Sun
peeked out from behind the dissipating clouds, shining her warm rays down upon him, slowly drying
his tattered clothing as he lay there, limp, barely conscious.
Hours passed. Still he did not move.
The Sun was sinking into the West in a blood-red sky when Thranduil, still barely able to even
raise his head due to the near-complete exhaustion from his trip down the river, looked up at a
sound near the treeline.
Through the strands of damp hair straggling down in front of his face, he could see the last of
the sun's light glinting ominously from the hungry eyes of the creature standing there.
The hairy grey and black monster stared at him for a few moments more, waiting for the Sun to
vanish completely below the horizon. Then it crept forward, muttering to itself in a high,
squeaky voice all the while.
Body screaming in protest at any move he made, unable to push himself up to get away, Thranduil
could do nothing but lay there and watch as the large, bloated form of the Mirkwood spider neared
him on its clawed feet.
He was helpless as the spider reached out one claw for him, then rolled him this way and that,
watching him closely as it did.
He was unable to hold back a small yelp of surprise and pain when one hard, chitinous claw
prodded him ungently in the ribs and stomach, checking him for life and substance.
Apparently satisfied, it released him, letting him fall back to the grass upon which he had lain.
Then it took careful aim.
As the spider's stinger pierced his shoulder, sending its paralyzing poison into him, the
Elvenking had time for only a single thought.
//Merciful Valar, what did I *do* to deserve this day?!//
Then he thought nothing at all.
TBC...
.
--
I have a couple of ideas as to how to keep on from here... let me know what your guesses are, and
we'll see which I'll end up choosing... *grin*
Reviews make happy plotbunnies, and happy plotbunnies make for more stories/ideas... Feed them by
clicking the button down there! ;oD