The path to the beginning of the old dwarf road through Mirkwood is longer than the one they have already taken. The land about them is wild, now, utterly untamed and Legolas tells them that they won't find any settlements of Men on this side of the Greenwood. It's too close to the mountains with too many easy and clear paths for orcs and goblins to utilise and too few traders who are willing to brave the enchantments of the forest. Those who lived here once have moved on, only Beorn lives nearby and he is some days to the west of the path and distrustful of strangers.

Fíli pesters the elf with as many questions as he can think of. Now that Legolas' tongue has loosened, he is an eager enough conversationalist and Fíli is beginning to understand what the twins meant by Legolas being capable of fun. He isn't as outrageously mischievous as Elrond's sons, but he has a sly sort of humour that creeps in and takes everyone by surprise when it shows up. If he had shown it a little sooner Fíli suspects that much of the distrust Thorin and Dwalin have for the elf would have vanished before now. Nori would still have watched him with suspicion, but Fíli has learnt that Nori doesn't trust anyone.

Given the bizarre turn Fíli' s life has taken over the last few months, he doesn't blame the thief.

"This isn't a friendly feeling place," Bilba says as they pause at the entrance to Mirkwood, a name the place definitely seems to deserve if anyone were to ask Fíli.

"It wasn't always this way," Legolas replies, "but there is only so much we can do against an evil far more powerful than we are. We were already on our way to ask Lord Elrond if he had a way to help us when the raven found us."

"Raven?" Bilba tilts her head, an inquisitive frown appearing on her face that Fíli never fails to be intrigued by. Whenever she turns that expression on him Fíli finds himself willing to answer all manner of questions that should be left alone. Legolas seems almost as vulnerable to it and he turns to look at Adra and Thorin with a slightly pleading expression.

"Ravens have long been friends to Durin's folk," Adra explains as they start walking again. With Bilba suitably distracted Fíli turns his gaze back to Legolas who has paused beside an ivy-covered statue with one hand slightly raised.

"His mother," Thorin mutters from his place beside Fíli. He is not leading the way as he normally would, the younger dwarf notes, Gandalf is ahead as always but Thorin has lingered behind and he eyes the trees around them with distaste. "I dislike elves," his uncle continues, "but I will admit that what they do feel, they feel deeply and long. They are slow to change."

"As are we," Fíli points out with a smile.

"The burden of long life," Thorin agrees. "Mind the path, lad, the spiders that infest this place have grown bolder since last I was here."

The trees are dark, and darkness crowds closer as they make their way down the path, but Fíli sees no sign of the spiders that so concern his uncle and Legolas. They are far north of Dol Guldur, the place that Legolas and his father claim is the source of the infestation. The path is little used and in obvious disrepair, loose stones catch under their boots and those that don't trip them clatter into the deep shadows under the trees. Fíli is a dwarf and darkness shouldn't bother him, but this isn't the darkness of a cave under stone that all of his instincts yearn for. Nor is it the darkness of a moonless night. It's heavy, clingy, and as the day wears on it only grows deeper and more pressing. Legolas has long moved past them, though he is grave and watchful and keeps them walking as it grows darker even as they all argue that night has fallen.

Time loses all meaning under these trees, Fíli would say that it feels like a week has passed as hunger gnaws at his belly and exhaustion drags on his limbs. They have only eaten meals enough for a week, however, when Legolas pauses and looks around them with such concern that they reach for their weapons despite how little inclined they are becoming towards trusting Legolas.

"The spiders should not have made it this far north," the elf says, gesturing to the thick white threads that span the trees on either side of the path. "We had driven them back."

"Obviously something has changed," Thorin grumbles, fingers hovering near one of the threads curiously.

"Do not touch the webs," Legolas orders. "They will feel the vibrations and descend upon us in droves." More than one hand is rapidly snatched back. "Hopefully we will come across a patrol before too long. I dislike the thought of leaving the path, though it may become necessary, and I would prefer a few more of my warriors with us if we were forced to do so."

The fact that Legolas is nervous isn't at all reassuring, though he pushes them forwards anyway. The elf has fought beside them twice, so he must know that the dwarrow can handle themselves in a fight. Bilba's safety is a concern, and Fíli will refuse to admit that he dwells on it more than he probably should, but even she can fight if she has to. The group continue on, watching the trees warily and huddling close together. They walk so closely that, on occasion, they trip one another up and they stay that way at night as well, nibbling on cram and dried beef, not daring to risk a fire for fear it will attract the spiders that they are trying so hard to avoid.

The venom, Legolas has told them, is slow acting, slow enough that to start those bitten didn't realise its toxicity until too late. It had been enough to rouse them from the sleep the venom induced and help them home. The first indication that the bites were more potent than the elves had thought had been dizziness, then increasing muscle weakness and pain. Finally, the victim would begin to burn with a fever and vomit blood, death follows eight to ten days after the first bite if not treated within hours. In Men it takes only five days and Legolas has no idea how long it might take in hobbits and dwarrow, though their smaller stature means that it will likely be less time than even in Men. The elves can purge the poison, but recovery is long and slow. It does little to ease anyone's nerves and Fíli doubts that was the elf's intention.

The days bleed together. The path cuts through the widest point of Mirkwood and is in poor repair, making navigation difficult. From the map Fíli had assumed that it would take nine, perhaps ten days, to reach the other side. With how slowly they are all moving, however, to ensure that they both keep to the path and avoid alerting the spiders to their presence he is beginning to wonder if it might not take the better part of a month or more to get to the other side. If they ever make it at all. He would wish for the rest of the ponies, but there is precious little fresh water to keep the one they have hydrated as well as the rest of them and fewer oats for feed besides. They would have brought more of each had they known when leaving Rivendell that they would have to go through this place.

It isn't even just the risk of the spiders and the overgrown path that causes them trouble. It's the trees.

Fíli has always been fairly ambivalent about trees. They have their place and their uses and truthfully his people would be unable to accomplish most of what they do without them. These trees are different. These trees are, in a word, hostile. Fíli very much gets the impression that the trees themselves want everyone gone, whether wizard, dwarf, hobbit or elf. He's more uncomfortable here than he was even in Rivendell when he didn't truly know who he was or his place in the world at large. It scares him, not that he will admit such weakness to anyone else and makes his steps increasingly slow and heavy as reluctance to go forward drags at him. He gets the impression that the others are also affected in one way or another, though Legolas and Gandalf seem less so aside from frustration at the rest of the group for the variety of pace. Some, like Fíli, hang back, their instincts telling them to return along the route which has proved to be safe. Others, most notably Bofur, try to race ahead, eager to get to the other side and out of the oppression of the dark and trees.

"Perhaps it would be best if you were to go on ahead," Fíli hears Gandalf say one night when they have stopped. The darkness has to be some kind of enchantment, Fíli thinks, because in a blackness this complete their stone sight should still have allowed them to see to a degree. Fíli can't even see the hand in front of his face and that is terrifying.

"I do not believe it wise," Legolas disagrees. "If something should happen-"

"I would feel better knowing that a patrol was coming to meet us should something go wrong than not," Gandalf responds.

There is no other sound around them, no snoring or outraged demands that Gandalf be silent and cease with such suggestions. Fíli almost wants to say so himself except he can understand the wizard's reasoning. This place is darker and fouler by far more than any of them, including Legolas, had expected. He isn't sure he feels better about a bunch of elves looking for them, but he would prefer that to dying forgotten among these foul trees.

"It might also be of benefit to advise my father of the change of plans," Legolas mutters. "If these Stonefoots were numerous enough to break a wizard's staff and defeat that number of orcs it may be that they will be too numerous for us to take the Jewel from them alone."

"Thorin will prefer to avoid that as much as he would prefer to avoid the mountain," Gandalf says before anyone else can. "It would raise too many eyebrows and cause more than a little renewed strife between your peoples if a group of dwarves were slain by elves, no matter the reason. Update your father, by all means, but ask that he keep his focus on the sickness here."

"You wish me to leave now?" Legolas asks.

"I rather think the sooner the better. We are not alone here. I know the path and will keep us to it as best I can."

There is a faint rustle of cloth and the pair fall silent. In the morning, Legolas is gone.

They continue on for another two days, their pace slowed by the loss of the elf who clearly knows the path better than the wizard does. The grumbling of this small company increases as the days go by. Fíli walks huddled with Ori, Adra and Bilba and keeps the hobbit's hand clutched tightly in his own. She doesn't pull away or object and Fíli doesn't have the presence of mind to question it. More than once her hand slips from his as they travel and he finds himself staring and frantically searching for her, afraid she has been lost or taken or has slipped away, only to feel her cool hand slide back into his moments later.

The forest presses harder and harder upon him and Fíli finds himself fearing for Legolas, fearing that perhaps the elf prince did not make it home and that no one will come to find them. The webs are getting thicker, closer to the path and tightly woven between the trees so that even if the group had wished to leave the path, they could not for fear of attracting the spiders. Which, Fíli realises too late, is apparently the vile creatures' plan.

It's Bofur who runs headlong into the web that stretches across the path, unheeding of the deadly ropes that snap under his pace and cling to his hair and clothes. It is not important, in fact, that the webs have been snapped for there are others behind it and although the rest of them halt and call out to Bofur to stop he is clearly more affected than any of them. The spiders descend upon them, too many coming from all sides and Bofur is bitten before the rest of them can reach him. One by one they fall, though they fight desperately, until only Thorin, Gandalf, Fíli and Bilba are left standing. Fíli and Bilba have their backs pressed together and he feels her shaking against him from fear and exertion. Thorin prowls around them, holding off the spiders as much as he can with Gandalf's help, but they are only four and even the magic of the wizard isn't quite enough against the sheer numbers of the foul things.

The bite, when it comes, is a searing pain that makes Fíli feel as though his arm is on fire. Blackness trickles around the edges of his vision, fighting with the white light pulsing from the top of Gandalf's staff. Bilba cries out behind him and Thorin collapses at his feet, finally overcome by his own bite, and still Fíli tries to fight, cutting down the spider that bit him and two more before the darkness finally claims him.

The last thing he sees is an arrow and a flash of white blond hair.


A.N: The tonsils are better now. Mostly. Oops, cliffie until Tuesday... That wasn't planned