Thranduil's Longest Day
by SkyFire
A/N: Well, as to the matter of our mysterious rescuers, some of you guessed right, some of you
guessed not-so-right. ;oP So who was right? Read and see! ;oD
For Disclaimers, see part 1.
.
*****
Thranduil's Longest Day
By SkyFire
Part 8
"Ad-da?" came Legolas' weak voice.
Thranduil looked over at his sickly-looking offspring. "Yes?" he said.
"Ad-da, is there really a group of dwarven archers down there?"
A sigh. "It would seem so," he replied. He looked over as one of the dwarves climbed up the tree
and over to the branch from which they dangled. In the stubby hand was a fine blade of Elven
design. Legolas' knife, apparently picked up from the ground where it had fallen. He watched as
the dwarf eased closer, then reached out, setting the knife to the spider-string from which
Legolas hung. "What are you doing?!" Thranduil yelped as the dwarf started to slice through the
thick cord.
The dwarf looked at him indulgently, as one would a not-quite-bright child. "I'm cutting the cord."
"But he'll fall!" Thranduil protested. "He is hurt and sick. You cannot drop him! You will only
do him more harm!"
The dwarf snorted. "He's an Elf. He'll land on his feet. He'll be fine."
"Listen to me, you ignorant--"
Ignoring Thranduil's protests and curses, the dwarf continued to saw through the cord.
Legolas, wide-eyed, struggled weakly in his coccoon of spidersilk, trying uselessly to get away.
"No!" he called up to the dwarf above him, voice cracking slightly in his fear. "Please!"
Thranduil quailed at the fear in his son's weak voice, focused the full fury of his glare on the
dwarf, speaking quickly now that the cord was reduced to mere threads. "Please! Lower him gently
and I will reward you richly! I will--"
"Adaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!" came Legolas' panicky cry as he plummeted, to land
on the ground of the bone-littered clearing with a sharp cry of pain.
"You miserable--!" Thranduil growled, struggling against the sticky spidersilk around him,
knowing it was useless, and yet unable to stop himself.
The dwarf only shrugged with a snort. "Guess he didn't land on his feet, after all," was all he
said as he moved on toward Thranduil's line, began slicing through it.
Sooner than he thought possible, Thranduil found himself plummeting through the air to crash
awkwardly to the bony ground, older wounds throbbing, his rear sending a new pain though him as
he landed on it. Dazed from the fall and fresh rush of pain, he barely noticed the webbing being
cut away. Indeed, he barely noticed a sick and shaking Legolas come up close beside him and hug
him, seeking what comfort he could.
Finally, his thought cleared enough that he was once more aware of his surroundings. He hugged
Legolas gently to him, glared at the dwarves around them.
One of the dwarves ignored the glare, came up to stand in front of them, unafraid of the two
Elves kneeling there in all their ragged, bedraggled splendor. "Well?" he demanded.
Thranduil blinked at the tone. "Well what?" he asked.
"You said you would reward us. Where is it?"
"I said I would reward you if you lowered him gently, and you let him fall. You dropped us both.
You'll get no reward from me. Consider yourselves lucky that I don't have you executed!"
The dwarves around them chuckled at the threat. "Executed?" said the spokesman. He smirked. "Who
do you think you are, the King?" A moment for the fresh laughter to die down, then: "So you will
give us nothing for saving you from the spiders?"
"Not one thing."
Now it was the dwarves' turn to glare.
'I don't like the way they're glaring, Ada,' Legolas said softly, the sindarin words flowing
musically from his lips. 'Can you run?'
'I can,' Thranduil confirmed. He might be hurt, but was confident that the limping run he would
manage would be more than enough to leave the dwarves behind. 'And you?'
'I can manage.'
'Good.' Thranduil surveyed the circle of irate dwarves around them, saw them spaced further apart
in - luckily, for once - the direction he felt they needed to go to get back to his Hall. He
nudged Legolas slightly, motioned furtively in that direction. At Legolas' small nod, he slowly
got himself into position to spring up and run, aware of Legolas doing the same beside him.
"If you wil give us nothing, there is no reason to let you go, is there?" the leader of the
dwarves said. "Elves put a higher price on Elven lives than on those of any other race. Surely
*someone* will be willing to have you returned alive. The Mirkwood king, perhaps...?"
Thranduil could not hold back the smirk those words called up. "The Mirkwood king will give you
nothing," he said, smirk widening at the dwarves' deepening glares.
Then he and Legolas were up and running away, breaking through the circle at the weak point they
had marked before, then limp-running awkwardly out into the wood.
Focused entirely on keeping ahead of their surprisingly swift pursuers, king and prince did not
see the armed party before they --literally-- ran into them.
And now they were weaponless.
*****
TBC...
Ah, yes. *Another* nameless armed group. Mirkwood seems full of them at the moment, does it not?
*grin* I think that this story is winding down, though. Perhaps two or three more chapters left
to it.
If you liked it so far, please don't hesitate to click the button down there and leave the
plotbunnies some nice juicy reviews! They just love sinking their pointy teeth into them! :oP
by SkyFire
A/N: Well, as to the matter of our mysterious rescuers, some of you guessed right, some of you
guessed not-so-right. ;oP So who was right? Read and see! ;oD
For Disclaimers, see part 1.
.
*****
Thranduil's Longest Day
By SkyFire
Part 8
"Ad-da?" came Legolas' weak voice.
Thranduil looked over at his sickly-looking offspring. "Yes?" he said.
"Ad-da, is there really a group of dwarven archers down there?"
A sigh. "It would seem so," he replied. He looked over as one of the dwarves climbed up the tree
and over to the branch from which they dangled. In the stubby hand was a fine blade of Elven
design. Legolas' knife, apparently picked up from the ground where it had fallen. He watched as
the dwarf eased closer, then reached out, setting the knife to the spider-string from which
Legolas hung. "What are you doing?!" Thranduil yelped as the dwarf started to slice through the
thick cord.
The dwarf looked at him indulgently, as one would a not-quite-bright child. "I'm cutting the cord."
"But he'll fall!" Thranduil protested. "He is hurt and sick. You cannot drop him! You will only
do him more harm!"
The dwarf snorted. "He's an Elf. He'll land on his feet. He'll be fine."
"Listen to me, you ignorant--"
Ignoring Thranduil's protests and curses, the dwarf continued to saw through the cord.
Legolas, wide-eyed, struggled weakly in his coccoon of spidersilk, trying uselessly to get away.
"No!" he called up to the dwarf above him, voice cracking slightly in his fear. "Please!"
Thranduil quailed at the fear in his son's weak voice, focused the full fury of his glare on the
dwarf, speaking quickly now that the cord was reduced to mere threads. "Please! Lower him gently
and I will reward you richly! I will--"
"Adaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!" came Legolas' panicky cry as he plummeted, to land
on the ground of the bone-littered clearing with a sharp cry of pain.
"You miserable--!" Thranduil growled, struggling against the sticky spidersilk around him,
knowing it was useless, and yet unable to stop himself.
The dwarf only shrugged with a snort. "Guess he didn't land on his feet, after all," was all he
said as he moved on toward Thranduil's line, began slicing through it.
Sooner than he thought possible, Thranduil found himself plummeting through the air to crash
awkwardly to the bony ground, older wounds throbbing, his rear sending a new pain though him as
he landed on it. Dazed from the fall and fresh rush of pain, he barely noticed the webbing being
cut away. Indeed, he barely noticed a sick and shaking Legolas come up close beside him and hug
him, seeking what comfort he could.
Finally, his thought cleared enough that he was once more aware of his surroundings. He hugged
Legolas gently to him, glared at the dwarves around them.
One of the dwarves ignored the glare, came up to stand in front of them, unafraid of the two
Elves kneeling there in all their ragged, bedraggled splendor. "Well?" he demanded.
Thranduil blinked at the tone. "Well what?" he asked.
"You said you would reward us. Where is it?"
"I said I would reward you if you lowered him gently, and you let him fall. You dropped us both.
You'll get no reward from me. Consider yourselves lucky that I don't have you executed!"
The dwarves around them chuckled at the threat. "Executed?" said the spokesman. He smirked. "Who
do you think you are, the King?" A moment for the fresh laughter to die down, then: "So you will
give us nothing for saving you from the spiders?"
"Not one thing."
Now it was the dwarves' turn to glare.
'I don't like the way they're glaring, Ada,' Legolas said softly, the sindarin words flowing
musically from his lips. 'Can you run?'
'I can,' Thranduil confirmed. He might be hurt, but was confident that the limping run he would
manage would be more than enough to leave the dwarves behind. 'And you?'
'I can manage.'
'Good.' Thranduil surveyed the circle of irate dwarves around them, saw them spaced further apart
in - luckily, for once - the direction he felt they needed to go to get back to his Hall. He
nudged Legolas slightly, motioned furtively in that direction. At Legolas' small nod, he slowly
got himself into position to spring up and run, aware of Legolas doing the same beside him.
"If you wil give us nothing, there is no reason to let you go, is there?" the leader of the
dwarves said. "Elves put a higher price on Elven lives than on those of any other race. Surely
*someone* will be willing to have you returned alive. The Mirkwood king, perhaps...?"
Thranduil could not hold back the smirk those words called up. "The Mirkwood king will give you
nothing," he said, smirk widening at the dwarves' deepening glares.
Then he and Legolas were up and running away, breaking through the circle at the weak point they
had marked before, then limp-running awkwardly out into the wood.
Focused entirely on keeping ahead of their surprisingly swift pursuers, king and prince did not
see the armed party before they --literally-- ran into them.
And now they were weaponless.
*****
TBC...
Ah, yes. *Another* nameless armed group. Mirkwood seems full of them at the moment, does it not?
*grin* I think that this story is winding down, though. Perhaps two or three more chapters left
to it.
If you liked it so far, please don't hesitate to click the button down there and leave the
plotbunnies some nice juicy reviews! They just love sinking their pointy teeth into them! :oP