Thranduil's Longest Day
By SkyFire
For disclaimer, see part 1.
A/N: Whoa, an update! O_O Sorry for the delay; things are a bit hectic around here what with the
uncertain health, and the packing (I'm going to be moving this month, then again!! by the end of
January. Sheesh!) So, anyways, hope you like this chapter. Thranduil's Troubles continue, and
the 'Where is Legolas, anyway?' Question is answered.... *grin*
Emphasis is in * *. Thoughts are in // //.
.
*****
Thranduil's Longest Day
By SkyFire
Part 6
Consciousness slowly inflicted itself on the king of Mirkwood. For a long moment, he had to
battle against near-overwhelming nausea, fighting it down after long moments of misery. He tried
to raise a hand to wipe the cold sweat from his brow, but could not move his hand from his side.
Looking down at himself through eyes that were surprisingly reluctant to focus, he saw the thick
greyish strands that wrapped snugly about his shoulders and chest, and presumably -- judging by
the way he could not move his legs -- down to his feet.
Slowly, the memories resolved themselves in his mind, showing to him the reason why he was so
bound, and feeling so ill and feverish.
//Spiders,// he thought briefly with a small grimace. //One stung me, then... brought me here...
wherever 'here' is, exactly... to eat later. Valar!//
Looking around, Thranduil found that he was hung in mid-air, suspended from a thick branch by a
strand of the same sticky spider-thread that cocooned him from the shoulders down. Huge webs
spanned the spaces between the trees for as far as he could see in any given direction; some old
and tattered, some battered but mended, some entirely new. From other branches nearby hung deer
and boar, smaller birds and animals caught in the massive webs. A sick-looking Elf hung not far
from him, cocooned in webbing much as Thranduil himself was. The pale, greenish face was turned
mostly to the side, but the faint wind was slowly turning him so that Thranduil could see--
He rolled his eyes. //Of course,// he thought wryly to himself. //It couldn't be anyone *useful*.
It just *had* to be *him*.//
The young Elf's eyes widened as he saw Thranduil handing there-- bruised, battered, and
disheveled from his involuntary river-journey, but still easily recognizable as the king that
he was. The king he had shot once, and barely missed the second time. He let out a faint squeak
of dismay, paling even more.
Thranduil rolled his eyes once more, then sighed. Dangerous as the youth had proven to be to him,
they would have to work together somehow if they were to have any chance of not being eaten. The
myriad bones that littered the ground around them were silent proof to the futility of escape
without aid.
//First things first,// Thranduil thought. //Calm him. That shouldn't be too hard. I can always
calm Legolas, and he and this young one seem to be nearly of an age....//
"What is your name?" he asked gently, one golden brow rising sharply at the other's look of shock
and surprise. "What?"
"It's me," said the youth. "You don't recognize me?"
"If I did, would I ask? Are you one of Legolas' friends, perhaps?"
"Ada, I *am* Legolas!"
"*Legolas*?!" came Thranduil's undignified squeak. He studies the youth closely. If the braids
were let loose, if he were dressed in one of Legolas' favorite outfits, if he wore Legolas' crown
of ribbons and leaves-- Valar! "Legolas! But you look--"
"I got my braids today, Ada," Legolas said with shy pride. "My knife-teacher said I was good
enough."
Pride mingled with pain mingled with more pride mingled with-- "And what did your *archery*-
teacher say?"
Legolas blushed as much as he could in his pale, sickly state. "That I should stick to blade-
work. I'm sorry, Ada."
Chuckling involuntarily, Thranduil was about to reply when they heard a scuttling noise from in
the trees all around them, coming rapidly closer.
The spiders were returning.
Renewing his futile struggles against the sticky strands that held him, Thranduil called softly.
"Legolas, can you get free?"
Not expecting an affirmative response, he was surprised by his son's response.
"I've almost gotten my knife. Almost... ah! There!"
Before Thranduil's surprised eyes, the shining blade of one of Legolas' blades sliced through one
of the strands, the Elvish steel making short work of them. Legolas moved as quickly as he could
to slice through the strands pinning his arms to his sides. Once both arms were free, he drew
his second knife, and--
The spiders were there.
Instantly, they saw the shredded webbing around the half-freed Elf. Chittering to each other in
irritation, they swarmed him.
Thranduil could only look on helplessly as Legolas was swarmed. His eyes widened at the sudden
shrieks of pain-- from the spiders.
"He has two fangs!" one of the spiders shrieked in its high, squeaky voice as it jumped back from
the beset Elf. Five of its eyes were slashed, dripping ichor and useless. "He slices our eyes!"
For long, heart-wrenching moments, the struggle went on. Four more spiders fled the struggle,
eyes slashed. Two more limped away on damaged claws. Then came the sound Thranduil had been
dreading-- a harsh cry of shock and pain not from a spider's throat.
Legolas!
Thranduil watched, struggling helplessly as, one by one, the spiders moved away. Legolas' knives
fell from lax hands to lie amidst the bones on the forest floor. One spider remained, wrapping
the unconscious young Elf in sticky spidersilk once more. With every turn of Legolas' limp form,
Thranduil could see the ugly purple bruising and punctures of four spider-stings on the back of
Legolas' neck. Fear surged through his veins in icy waves; Legolas was so limp, so pale....
Quickly, the spider finished its re-wrapping job, then left the young Elf hanging from Thranduil's
branch, perhaps a body-length away from him.
A hard prod in the side startled a yelp out of the king of Mirkwood. He glared at the spider,
then watched as it went over and gave Legolas the same treatment. It took three or four hard
prods before Legolas mumbled an incoherent protest.
Thranduil sighed in relief; Legolas was still alive.
But how were they to get free of the spiders before they were eaten? He himself could not move,
and Legolas had lost both knives and been stung four more times with the spiders' insidious venom.
***
The hours passed slowly. At times, Thranduil dozed, still vaguely ill from his own stinging.
Legolas never stirred.
Around mid-afternoon, a spider came up and prodded Thranduil again.
"Nice and juicy," it chittered to itself. Then, mandibles wide, it closed in. Apparently, it
had decided that Thranduil was to be its lunch.
Thranduil fought against the strands that held him, but could do nothing but watch as the horrible
mouth drew nearer....
TBC....
.
Eep! So, like it? If so, click the button down there and let me know! The plotbunnies like hearing
from you (especially when it's a break from packing!!), and so do I!! :o)
By SkyFire
For disclaimer, see part 1.
A/N: Whoa, an update! O_O Sorry for the delay; things are a bit hectic around here what with the
uncertain health, and the packing (I'm going to be moving this month, then again!! by the end of
January. Sheesh!) So, anyways, hope you like this chapter. Thranduil's Troubles continue, and
the 'Where is Legolas, anyway?' Question is answered.... *grin*
Emphasis is in * *. Thoughts are in // //.
.
*****
Thranduil's Longest Day
By SkyFire
Part 6
Consciousness slowly inflicted itself on the king of Mirkwood. For a long moment, he had to
battle against near-overwhelming nausea, fighting it down after long moments of misery. He tried
to raise a hand to wipe the cold sweat from his brow, but could not move his hand from his side.
Looking down at himself through eyes that were surprisingly reluctant to focus, he saw the thick
greyish strands that wrapped snugly about his shoulders and chest, and presumably -- judging by
the way he could not move his legs -- down to his feet.
Slowly, the memories resolved themselves in his mind, showing to him the reason why he was so
bound, and feeling so ill and feverish.
//Spiders,// he thought briefly with a small grimace. //One stung me, then... brought me here...
wherever 'here' is, exactly... to eat later. Valar!//
Looking around, Thranduil found that he was hung in mid-air, suspended from a thick branch by a
strand of the same sticky spider-thread that cocooned him from the shoulders down. Huge webs
spanned the spaces between the trees for as far as he could see in any given direction; some old
and tattered, some battered but mended, some entirely new. From other branches nearby hung deer
and boar, smaller birds and animals caught in the massive webs. A sick-looking Elf hung not far
from him, cocooned in webbing much as Thranduil himself was. The pale, greenish face was turned
mostly to the side, but the faint wind was slowly turning him so that Thranduil could see--
He rolled his eyes. //Of course,// he thought wryly to himself. //It couldn't be anyone *useful*.
It just *had* to be *him*.//
The young Elf's eyes widened as he saw Thranduil handing there-- bruised, battered, and
disheveled from his involuntary river-journey, but still easily recognizable as the king that
he was. The king he had shot once, and barely missed the second time. He let out a faint squeak
of dismay, paling even more.
Thranduil rolled his eyes once more, then sighed. Dangerous as the youth had proven to be to him,
they would have to work together somehow if they were to have any chance of not being eaten. The
myriad bones that littered the ground around them were silent proof to the futility of escape
without aid.
//First things first,// Thranduil thought. //Calm him. That shouldn't be too hard. I can always
calm Legolas, and he and this young one seem to be nearly of an age....//
"What is your name?" he asked gently, one golden brow rising sharply at the other's look of shock
and surprise. "What?"
"It's me," said the youth. "You don't recognize me?"
"If I did, would I ask? Are you one of Legolas' friends, perhaps?"
"Ada, I *am* Legolas!"
"*Legolas*?!" came Thranduil's undignified squeak. He studies the youth closely. If the braids
were let loose, if he were dressed in one of Legolas' favorite outfits, if he wore Legolas' crown
of ribbons and leaves-- Valar! "Legolas! But you look--"
"I got my braids today, Ada," Legolas said with shy pride. "My knife-teacher said I was good
enough."
Pride mingled with pain mingled with more pride mingled with-- "And what did your *archery*-
teacher say?"
Legolas blushed as much as he could in his pale, sickly state. "That I should stick to blade-
work. I'm sorry, Ada."
Chuckling involuntarily, Thranduil was about to reply when they heard a scuttling noise from in
the trees all around them, coming rapidly closer.
The spiders were returning.
Renewing his futile struggles against the sticky strands that held him, Thranduil called softly.
"Legolas, can you get free?"
Not expecting an affirmative response, he was surprised by his son's response.
"I've almost gotten my knife. Almost... ah! There!"
Before Thranduil's surprised eyes, the shining blade of one of Legolas' blades sliced through one
of the strands, the Elvish steel making short work of them. Legolas moved as quickly as he could
to slice through the strands pinning his arms to his sides. Once both arms were free, he drew
his second knife, and--
The spiders were there.
Instantly, they saw the shredded webbing around the half-freed Elf. Chittering to each other in
irritation, they swarmed him.
Thranduil could only look on helplessly as Legolas was swarmed. His eyes widened at the sudden
shrieks of pain-- from the spiders.
"He has two fangs!" one of the spiders shrieked in its high, squeaky voice as it jumped back from
the beset Elf. Five of its eyes were slashed, dripping ichor and useless. "He slices our eyes!"
For long, heart-wrenching moments, the struggle went on. Four more spiders fled the struggle,
eyes slashed. Two more limped away on damaged claws. Then came the sound Thranduil had been
dreading-- a harsh cry of shock and pain not from a spider's throat.
Legolas!
Thranduil watched, struggling helplessly as, one by one, the spiders moved away. Legolas' knives
fell from lax hands to lie amidst the bones on the forest floor. One spider remained, wrapping
the unconscious young Elf in sticky spidersilk once more. With every turn of Legolas' limp form,
Thranduil could see the ugly purple bruising and punctures of four spider-stings on the back of
Legolas' neck. Fear surged through his veins in icy waves; Legolas was so limp, so pale....
Quickly, the spider finished its re-wrapping job, then left the young Elf hanging from Thranduil's
branch, perhaps a body-length away from him.
A hard prod in the side startled a yelp out of the king of Mirkwood. He glared at the spider,
then watched as it went over and gave Legolas the same treatment. It took three or four hard
prods before Legolas mumbled an incoherent protest.
Thranduil sighed in relief; Legolas was still alive.
But how were they to get free of the spiders before they were eaten? He himself could not move,
and Legolas had lost both knives and been stung four more times with the spiders' insidious venom.
***
The hours passed slowly. At times, Thranduil dozed, still vaguely ill from his own stinging.
Legolas never stirred.
Around mid-afternoon, a spider came up and prodded Thranduil again.
"Nice and juicy," it chittered to itself. Then, mandibles wide, it closed in. Apparently, it
had decided that Thranduil was to be its lunch.
Thranduil fought against the strands that held him, but could do nothing but watch as the horrible
mouth drew nearer....
TBC....
.
Eep! So, like it? If so, click the button down there and let me know! The plotbunnies like hearing
from you (especially when it's a break from packing!!), and so do I!! :o)