I've updated all 3 of my stories in the past week! I'm so proud of myself. It's about time with this one, too.
Felrion heard the shouting as he plucked a handful of herbs and looked up, but then he shrugged and pocketed the plants, figuring that if anyone was actually hurt, Thranduil would not sound so angry. Most likely he and Eithryn were in a fight again. As much as their relationship had changed, they seemed to like to remind him that they were the same elves who had snapped at each other on that very first patrol some five hundred years ago.
Ah, here was the kind of flower he'd been looking for. Now he could start mixing the plants.
. . . . . .
The cow elk spun in a full circle, then fell to her knees; Kilvara had to dive from the animal's back to keep herself from being squashed as the elk rolled, and then vault back on as soon as the beast rose again.
The elk twisted its neck to snap at her unwanted passenger, whose only defense was to shove the furry muzzle away with a firm "No."
The elk gave one more small buck and then, tired of the pointless battle, dropped her head to crop off a mouthful of juicy grass.
"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" Kilvara panted, patting the elk's neck.
. . . . . .
The calf butted Galion with its head and took off the other way, but the elf was too fast for it and tagged the calf back before it could get out of reach, then spun around to flee, but somehow the calf was already in his way. He turned again just in time for the calf to slam into him... from the first direction again?
He understood when two matching brown heads with oversized ears loomed over him as he lay on the ground.
. . . . . .
Storm, having escaped from his tree-prison, was following the trees' directions to a hopefully nicer elk when he heard muttering from the leaves. "Stupid Sindar; just because he's the king's son, he thinks he can say anything he wants. No wonder the trees won't obey him..."
They were at it again. Storm muffled a snicker.
. . . . . .
Thranduil kept a wary eye on the trees as he continued his search, but they seemed content to let his wife avenge them. He was still having difficulty believing that the forest was as intelligent as the Silvan elves gave it credit for, but he was not going to question it yet, just in case. Besides, he was sure at least one of the Silvan elves had tamed an elk by now.
It was in the process of double-checking his path for the roots of any trees that were feeling particularly uncooperative that he came across the tracks of an especially large elk. A bull, probably, and not one he was eager to meet... But then again, he had already lost time, and Eithryn would likely be coming after him soon. The thought of his wife made him wince; he was not proud of how he had lost his temper. It had simply been too humiliating to have her catch him being embarrassed by trees, of all things...
Of course, she was probably distracted by her quest for revenge. Ironically, if he hurried, this might be his best chance yet to beat her in one of her games.
Hmm.
. . . . . .
Felrion held as still as stone as the elderly bull sniffed the reeds in the healer's outstretched hand. The elf had been confident in the calming effects of the scented mixture he had applied to himself, but he found himself thinking over and over that the mixture had never been tested on elk before...
He heaved a sigh of relief as the old elk crunched into the reeds cheerfully, keeping its small but sharp pair of antlers far away from its new friend.
. . . . . .
The twin calves watched Galion curiously as he frantically brushed the dust off his clothes and then off his hands, but just as he finished they both pricked up their ears and ran past him. Galion turned to see what had so excited them and found himself face-to-face with a very large and angry-looking cow elk.
. . . . . .
Storm rolled under two pairs of elk legs, carefully avoiding the slashing hooves, and coming back to his feet again on the other side. The young cow elk kicked at him, but not too hard. She was little more than a baby, too young to have her own calf but too old to stay with her mother, and she was enjoying her new playmate too much to break him just yet.
The elf was counting on that as he hopped onto her back.
To the elk, this was just another part of the game, and she pranced in a circle, playfully nipping at Storm.
"Oh, yeah?" the elf laughed, ruffling the elk's ears fondly. "You're a friendly girl, aren't you? Want to meet my friends?"
The elk didn't speak Silvan, but she was intrigued by Storm's tone.
"They'll play with you," Storm promised. "Come on. This way." He turned the elk's head in the proper direction and tapped his heels against her sides.
The elk broke into a trot, eager to please her new friend.
. . . . . .
"At least mine won't bite me," Felrion said in response to Kilvara's snort of amusement as the she-elf kicked her reluctant mount into the clearing. The healer patted the nose of his sleepy-eyed bull and handed the elk another handful of grass.
"Yours might not count," Kilvara teased, failing to move her elk away from a tasty patch of clover.
"Sky did say tame," Felrion returned calmly. "Yours is barely tame." The cow elk proved his point by giving a small buck that almost jolted the surprised Kilvara off her back.
"Yours isn't tame, it's half asleep," Kilvara told him as they both turned toward the sound of approaching hoofbeats. She was about to add that the size of its antlers made her wonder if it was half deer, but the sight before her made her forget the thought entirely.
"Speaking of tame..." Felrion shook his head, amazed.
"He did win Sky over," Kilvara pointed out.
Felrion just laughed, because walking toward them, followed by not one but three elk, two of them very young calves, was a very confused butler. To the great amusement of the two elves, the mother elk snaked her great head around Felrion's shoulders to give him an affectionate slurp on the cheek.
. . . . . .
His wife was watching him. Thranduil knew it.
He could not see her, of course, but he had long ago learned not to trust his sight or hearing where she was concerned, instead relying on a sixth sense, the one that had the hairs on the back of his neck standing up whenever something was about to trip him or land on his head. She was there, he was certain.
But so was the elk. It was a magnificent specimen, with antlers twice as wide as the elven prince; he knew it to be his equal. It was capable of killing him, certainly, but he saw other possibilities, too, not the least of which was impressing his wife for perhaps the first time.
The beast was resting now, but some inner sense told Thranduil that it was not asleep, despite its closed eyes and drooping ears. Perhaps it was a good thing Eithryn was watching, the prince thought. She could likely keep him from being crushed to death if such an outcome appeared likely.
On the other hand, he might never live it down if he came to his senses and walked away now, which was certainly the wiser course of action. Instead, he found himself walking toward the elk openly, without any hint of stealth.
The bull lazily opened one eye to regard the intruder.
"Hello, my friend," Thranduil said as confidently as he could manage.
The bull was not impressed.
"What a marvelous creature you are," Thranduil told it, seeing the bull's muscles ripple as it turned its huge head for a better look at him. "Truly, you are the king of beasts."
The bull flicked an ear, bored by the puny elf's talk.
Thranduil sat down on a stump, only trembling a little. "We could be great together, you and I," he continued, knowing that his words likely did not matter much. "Imagine my father's face if he saw me astride a great elk. And you would have the best feed in Greenwood," he said, not knowing what motivated an elk, or even whether the bull understood him.
Now, the bull had met many beings in his long life, including many elves, but he had never known one to sit on a stump and talk to him. In his experience, if an elf spoke to him, it was while backing slowly away with its hands in the air before it. Unlike their more mundane kin, the elk of Greenwood had some grasp of the higher emotions, and this one understood courage very well. With an ease that seemed impossible in such a heavy creature, the bull rose to its full height of over seven feet.
Thranduil pulled in shallow breaths as the great elk approached him, knowing that one swipe of his heavy antlers could probably end his life. Still, he didn't blink as the bull's fist-size eyes came within feet of his. He was sure his heart did not beat for several seconds.
And then Thranduil heard a screech, and something small and gray slammed into the elk, flapping fiercely. The bull lunged to the side—its antlers luckily passed above the prince's head—and it reared, kicking out at the attacker, which shot out of range as quickly as it had come. The bull eyed Thranduil suspiciously, but then it understood as a smaller elf, a female, dropped down next to it. The elk spun, thinking to knock her down and trample her, but she vaulted easily over its back and danced away, laughing.
"Eithryn," Thranduil growled.
She paid no attention to him as she darted in circles around the bull, herding it away from the prince and then leaping onto its back and holding on tight as the beast exploded into a storm of twisting and bucking.
Thranduil, meanwhile, suddenly found himself occupied with another problem as a ball of feathers latched onto his arm and began pecking him with its sharp, curved beak.
. . . . . .
"We're only missing Sky and Thranduil," Kilvara observed dryly.
"It could be a while," Storm agreed, patting one of Galion's young friends.
. . . . . .
The bull was still bucking when Thranduil finally managed to restrain the falcon in his cloak, but the prince's wife didn't seem bothered by the elk's struggle except on the occasions when the bull swept one of his great antlers into her; the she-elf couldn't dodge without losing her grip, so she had no choice but to endure the blows and hope they didn't break any ribs.
Thranduil felt sick as he heard the crack from the latest hit. "Eithryn! Enough!"
As usual, his command had about as much effect as if it had been directed at a rock—on his wife, that was. The bull heard his voice and met his gaze, and in that moment, Thranduil knew they were thinking along the same lines.
Sky, who had been concentrating fully on the bull, noticed that her husband was no longer battling the falcon just in time to yelp as Thranduil slammed into her, making her lose her grip on the elk. The two elves tumbled to the ground, and the prince quickly pinned Sky down before she could cause any further mischief.
The bull, who hadn't batted an eye throughout the whole maneuver, lowered his head to sniff at the prisoner as, behind him, the falcon freed itself from the cloak and flew up to a branch to watch.
Sky struggled briefly, but calmed as she realized that the bull wasn't about to crush them after all; in fact, it was looking at the prince as if waiting for further instruction.
"You look surprised," Thranduil noted with a smirk; indeed, his wife's eyes were as wide as he had ever seen them.
She composed herself quickly. "I was sure you'd end up with a calf or something." She wasn't about to admit to him that she'd interfered out of fear for her husband's life.
The prince raised an eyebrow.
. . . . . .
Storm moved up beside Thranduil and clapped his brother-in-law on the shoulder. "We are witnessing a rare event," he told the prince.
"Perhaps it will not be so rare anymore," Thranduil responded. "Though I am certain it will always be entertaining."
"Oh, shut up," Sky grumbled, throwing a handful of mud at them before resuming her journey. Thranduil had made sure they found the largest mud puddle in the forest for her to crawl through.
The bull elk came up on Thranduil's other side and prodded him gently with its nose, but leapt away when, on Sky's command, the falcon dove out of the air to assault the prince, and off to the side, Kilvara wondered to Felrion if the king's stable had any stalls big enough to accommodate the elk's antlers.
And that's how Thranduil got his elk. Well, the first one, anyway.