AU: Sorry everyone for the slow updates, my life has been a bit hectic lately with work but hopefully, things will settle down a bit and I can post more frequently but unfortunately can't make any promises. Please enjoy :)
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Chapter 11: Spiders and Elves

Daeron awoke to the world spinning around him in a blur. Shapes danced at the edge of his vision before he battled a wave of nausea. His head throbbed painfully against his skull as he tried to orient himself. Attempting to move, he realized his arms and legs were stuck, ensnared by an unyielding substance. Panic rose as he squirmed, struggling against the confining bonds. Yet, he knew he had to calm himself. Taking measured breaths, he centered his focus on his surroundings.

Gradually, the blurry images sharpened, revealing his entrapment. The air was thick with tension, and the sight that greeted him was nothing short of a nightmare. He was cocooned in the very fabric of a monstrous spider's web, surrounded by vast and intricate threads. Other cocoons, some containing skeletal remains, hung ominously nearby, a grim testament to the web's deadly purpose.

He cursed his recklessness inwardly, berating himself for not heeding Gandalf's warnings more vigilantly. I should've remained more vigilant, focused on the task at hand he thought bitterly.

As his senses slowly returned, he realized his weapons were still secured to him. The thought of his dagger, tucked within easy reach, sparked a glimmer of hope. If he could manage to retrieve it, he might have a chance to cut himself free. Gritting his teeth, Daeron assessed his situation, noting the position of his weapons and the layout of the web. Counting the other cocoons suspended nearby, he realized that one was conspicuously absent. Dread gripped him, as the possibility that one of their companions had already succumbed to the spiders' venom loomed. Guilt and failure clawed at him, a gnawing feeling that he had let everyone down.

A familiar voice disrupted his spiral of self-blame. "Daeron?" it whispered cautiously from behind a nearby tree.

"Bilbo!?" Daeron's heart leaped with surprise and relief.

"Keep your voice down," Bilbo urged, emerging from his hiding spot.

"Where are you?" Daeron replied, scanning the area for the hobbit.

"Behind the tree," Bilbo responded, "I've got a plan to get us all out of this mess, but I can't be in two places at once. If I cut you loose, can you help rescue the others?"

"I can certainly try," Daeron answered, his heart pounding with renewed determination. As Bilbo moved forward with his plan, Daeron watched his friend work to free him from the sticky cocoon.

With a sigh of relief, Daeron fell free from his bonds, immediately drawing his bow and arrow as he regained his footing.

"Thank the Valar," he exclaimed, his senses on high alert.

Curiosity flickered in Bilbo's eyes as he observed Daeron. "Why aren't you out like the others?"

"The poison didn't circulate too deeply in my blood," Daeron explained quickly, a sense of unease flickering beneath his words.

Bilbo regarded him intently but dropped the subject, allowing his attention to shift to the immediate task at hand. Before Daeron could protest, Bilbo was off, disappearing around a tree, leaving Daeron alone. Daeron took a slow breath, allowing himself to attune to the forest and its surroundings. The whispering and hissing of the spiders formed a disconcerting symphony, an eerie background to the impending danger.

"Old fat spider spinning in a tree,

Old fat spider can't see me.

Attercop! Attercop!

Won't you stop…"

Bilbo's voice echoed through the trees, a childhood taunt that now served as both a distraction and a battle cry. Daeron couldn't help but smile briefly, admiring Bilbo's resourcefulness. The spiders, agitated by the song, began to stir, their movements betraying their anger as they searched for the source of the sound. With no time to lose, Daeron drew his sword and attacked the cocoons imprisoning his friends. The blade sliced through the tough webbing with ease, freeing those who had been trapped. Just as he finished one, a group of spiders emerged from the shadows, approaching with menacing intent.

Reacting swiftly, Daeron lunged at them, his sword a blur of motion. The blade severed legs and sliced through exoskeletons, each strike calculated and efficient. One spider fell, then another, as Daeron's movements became a deadly dance.

He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he engaged in this deadly ballet. Daeron's focus was unwavering, his senses heightened. When a spider lashed out, he ducked and countered, his blade finding its mark on the vulnerable underside of the arachnid.

Despite his efforts, he knew that the spiders were regrouping. Their hisses and cries filled the air, a symphony of menace that warned of their impending attack. Daeron's mind raced, urgency propelling him forward. He sheathed his blade, drew his bow, and let loose an arrow that found its mark in a spider's body, bringing it down in a single, precise strike.

Quickly shifting his attention, Daeron rushed to the aid of the dwarves. His blade was back in his hand, its silver gleam a stark contrast against the dark surroundings. One by one, he severed the strands that held his companions captive, their relieved faces a testament to his determination.

"Thank Durin!" Thorin's voice boomed as he emerged from his cocoon, his blade drawn.

He charged at the approaching spiders, his movements slightly sluggish from the lingering effects of the poison. Daeron began to call and give direction to the dwarves. They had to get moving, they were outnumbered and by the wild swings and stumbling movement it was clear they were all struggling.

"Keep moving!" Daeron shouted, striking down another spider that had lunged at Ori.

They began moving, slowly at first, unsure of what direction to be heading towards. Thorin took charge pushing the company forward as they were continuously attacked by spiders. Around them shouts and hisses could be heard and Daeron hoped that they were all together. A spider lunged from the side, knocking Daeron off his feet, throwing him to the ground. He groaned as he felt winded, he struggled to his feet, drawing a short sword and barely managing to bury it into the spider's head before being pierced by its fangs. He rose to his feet, gasping for air his sword lay several feet away from him, as he moved towards it another spider, larger than the previous one appeared. Panic filled Daeron as he scrambled for his weapon. He barely managed to pick it up when the spider struck him with agile speed, catching him off guard momentarily, leaving him exposed. An arrow whistled before embedding itself inside the spider's head. As the spider's massive form crumpled to the forest floor, Daeron felt a mix of relief and astonishment. He staggered to his feet, clutching his side where the spider's fangs had grazed him. Panting heavily, he turned to see the savior who had dispatched the creature with such skill.

Emerging from the shadows of the trees, a lithe figure with fiery red hair stepped into view. Her keen eyes met Daeron's, and for a moment, their gazes locked. Daeron dipped his head in thanks, unable to form any words. The forest came alive with the graceful descent of elven warriors from the treetops. They moved with an otherworldly swiftness, eliminating the remaining spiders that had threatened the company. Daeron watched in awe as the elves, with their silvered blades and flowing, ethereal movements, made quick work of the arachnid assailants.

However, any hope of a warm welcome and rescue was short-lived. The elves, despite their graceful exteriors, were thorough in their actions. They surrounded the company, their expressions a blend of curiosity and caution. The dwarves, who had been silently watching since their rescue, offered no resistance.

The elves, led by a young dashing elf, began a systematic search of the company. They confiscated weapons, examining each one with a critical eye before securing them. Daeron's sword and bow were taken, and he gritted his teeth in frustration but said nothing.

"What's this?" The Elf asked, holding up a locket which he promptly pried open revealing two portraits, "Some ugly mutants?"

"That'll be my wife and my son Gimli," Gloin retorted back angrily.

"What is the meaning of this!?" Demanded Thorin.

"You are trespassing on our lands," the elf replied, "As such you will be bought and questioned before Lord Thranduil of the woodland realms. Tauriel be prepared to move out."

Daeron noticed his rescuer bow her head in acknowledgement. Soon, the company found themselves led through the dense forest, guided by the elves. Thorin, ever defiant, exchanged harsh words with his captors, but Daeron knew this was not the time for confrontation. Their fate rested in the hands of the elven king, and Daeron had heard enough tales to know that the woodland realm was not to be trifled with. He had often asked his father about their distant kin, little was known about them, other than that they strayed little from Mirkwood. His father had said that Thranduil was rather eccentric and obsessed about the Lonely mountain and the gems and jewels that he had frequently enjoyed from the old dwarven kingdom. But even deeper was his mistrust for anyone not of Elven blood, to which Daeron could understand to a certain degree. He'd heard the story of the faults of man during the War of the Ring, of the strife between Dwarves and Elves alike. As they moved Daeron could understand the conversation amongst the Elves who were questioning their leader, Legolas, about the Dwarves.

He kept quiet not wanting to give too much away too soon. Perhaps he could use his status as a bargaining chip with the Elven King, as a token of trust. Afterall Lord Elrond's reputation was renowned amongst all. He noticed the elf maiden walking ahead, her eyes glancing around at their surroundings, scanning undoubtedly for any danger lurking about. He wanted to thank her for saving him but they had been placed to walk in single file. A sudden realization dawned on him that Bilbo was yet again missing from their company. During the fray of fighting their captors Daeron had forgotten about their burglar Bilbo.

As the company was gathered in the grand hall of the elven fortress, they were questioned in pairs. First, it was Bombur and Bofur, then Ori and Dori, followed by Kili and Fili. Each pair was subjected to a thorough interrogation by the elves, who sought to understand their purpose in Mirkwood. Thorin, ever the stubborn dwarf, had been observing the proceedings with a deepening scowl. His turn had not yet come, and the wait seemed to be testing his patience more with every passing moment. When Daeron and Thorin were finally summoned before King Thranduil, tension filled the air like a palpable force. The elven king sat upon a regal, high-backed chair, his demeanor haughty and aloof. His fair features were framed by cascades of silver hair, and his eyes sparkled with a keen intelligence that did little to hide the disdain within.

"State your business in my realm," Thranduil demanded, his voice like the rustle of leaves in a breeze.

Thorin, never one to bend to the will of others easily, responded with an air of defiance. "We seek safe passage through Mirkwood, nothing more. We are merely passing through to visit my cousin King Dain of the Iron hills… when we were attacked by spiders."

"King Dain of the Iron Hills?" Thranduil said slowly, his voice laced with curiosity. "Interesting, wouldn't your cousin meet you or at the very least provide escorts?" He paused, his piercing eyes fixated on them, but Daeron refused to look away. "You could've asked us to escort you through the Greenwood."

Thorin sneered and stepped forward, his defiance palpable. He turned in a slow circle, his voice dripping with disdain. "You live in your solitary fortress, not giving a single care about the misery and troubles of anything outside your realm. You couldn't care less if everything around you burned to the ground!"

Thranduil's anger flared, and he shot back vehemently, his voice laced with bitterness. "Don't speak to me about not caring! Don't forget it was your greed and incessant mining for gold that lured Smaug. I have seen my fair share of dragon fire."

Suddenly, Thranduil's face contorted, and he let out a small, pained yell. Daeron watched in shock as the elven king's visage changed, revealing bone and flesh torn away from the side of his face. It was a horrifying transformation, but then, in an instant, his face returned to its fair and flawless appearance, as if nothing had happened.

"You seek to reclaim your homeland," Thranduil said softly, the intensity of his gaze unrelenting. "I could help you… Back during the height of Erebor, we used to receive gifts of white gemstones that shone brightly. They hold a great deal of beauty and value to me. If you were to return them to me, I would consider aiding you in retaking your homeland."

Thorin's eyes blazed with fury, and his voice grew even more resolute. "You will never lay hands on the treasures of Erebor. They belong to my people, and I will not yield them to the likes of you. I would not trust Thranduil, the great king, to honor his word. Till the end of all days!"

Thranduil leaned forward, his eyes narrowing, the air tense with unspoken threats. "You are a bold one, dwarf. But remember, time passes differently for elves. A century or two in a cell might make you rethink your decision. It's merely a blink of an eye for an elf."

Thorin's jaw clenched, and his knuckles whitened as he held onto his resolve. "I would rather rot in your jail for all eternity than see a single gem fall into your hands, elf."

Without further ado, Thranduil made a dismissive gesture with his hands, and guards moved forward to seize Thorin, dragging the dwarf prince away from the grand hall. Left alone in the presence of the elven king, Daeron knew that their fate hung in the balance, and the path ahead remained uncertain. He stood there silently calculating what he would say to Thranduil. It was clear that Thranduil wasn't someone to be reasoned with. He knew tensions between Dwarves and Elves were high but never to this extent. His father made an effort to bridge the rift between the two, even his grandmother, Lady Galadriel also sought to reforge ties with them, but Thrandiul…

"What is a ranger of the north doing in the presence of dwarves this far away?" Thranduil asked, breaking the silence that had filled the throne room.

"I was asked to help escort them through the forest of Mirkwood." Daeron replied calmly.

Thranduil's gaze bore into Daeron, his scrutiny unwavering. The ranger's words seemed to hang in the air, and for a moment, the grand hall was steeped in silence.

"You expect me to believe that a ranger, known for their discretion and avoidance of mingling too long with others, would willingly accompany a group of dwarves through these woods without a deeper purpose?" Thranduil's voice held an edge of skepticism. "I suspect they've included you in sharing some of their wealth… or made some deal with you rangers. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I wouldn't put much faith in them. They will find some way to disappoint you."

Daeron met Thranduil's gaze evenly, his own voice calm and measured. "I suppose not aiding them during their time of need doesn't help things," he replied. "It doesn't put you in a good light, Lord Thranduil."

Thranduil's eyes flashed with anger, and he leaned forward, his voice low and laden with bitterness. "You ignorant fool, you wouldn't understand. You weren't even born when Smaug came down from the north and devastated Erebor and the surrounding town of Dale."

Daeron held his ground, unflinching. "No, I wasn't. But I've heard the tales, and I've seen the consequences. And perhaps you should remember that our true enemy lies to the east, not within your own woods."

The tension in the room remained palpable as Daeron and Thranduil locked eyes, neither willing to yield.

"You dare speak to me in this way?" Thranduil demanded, "I'll have you locked away with your companions."

"Ada, perhaps we shouldn't act too rashly, if he's a Ranger of the North aren't we bound to release him? He's not a threat to us." Legolas spoke hurriedly in elvish.

"He is in the company of Thorin Oakenshield, he's lied about his reasons for being with them. He could've abandoned the rangers for all we know." Thranduil replied.

"I would never abandon the Rangers." Daeron's outburst had drawn the attention of everyone in the room, and for a moment, a tense silence hung in the air. His bold claim to being Lord Elrond's son had caught Thranduil's attention, and the Elvenking's piercing gaze bore into him. Daeron, however, refused to waver under that intense scrutiny. He wouldn't give Thranduil the satisfaction of seeing him falter.

Thranduil's initial curiosity was swiftly replaced by a look of disdain as he labeled Daeron a "halfbreed." Daeron's jaw clenched at the derogatory term, but he remained resolute. He had faced prejudice and discrimination before, but it wouldn't deter him now.

The Elvenking seemed to contemplate his options for a moment, and Daeron sensed a hint of uncertainty in Thranduil's demeanor. This gave him a glimmer of hope that perhaps they could find a way out of this predicament. Thranduil finally spoke, his voice carrying a condescending tone. "We will send word to verify your claims of being Lord Elrond's son." He paused, considering his next move. "In the meantime, you will be afforded different accommodations than your fellow companions."

Daeron's response was swift and defiant. "I'd rather be locked up with them than enjoy luxury."

His words were met with a steely resolve. Daeron would not allow himself to be separated from the company of dwarves, even if it meant enduring harsher conditions. Thranduil's brow furrowed at this response, clearly taken aback by Daeron's unwavering determination.

Thranduil sighed, "Very well, Tauriel to it that Daeron is placed with his companions."

Tauriel, who had been standing nearby, nodded in acknowledgment of the Elvenking's command. She motioned for Daeron to follow her, and he complied, relieved that he wouldn't be separated from the company of dwarves.

As they walked towards where the other members of the company were being held, Tauriel spoke in a hushed tone to Daeron. "It's very noble to choose to be with your friends."

Daeron nodded, appreciating Tauriel's understanding. "They're more than just friends," he replied quietly. "We've been through much together, and I won't abandon them now, especially not in a time like this."

Tauriel glanced at Daeron, her expression softened. "Your loyalty is commendable, Daeron."

"I want to thank you for earlier," Daeron said, glancing at Tauriel, "You know for saving me from that spider."

"You are most welcome, Daeron son of Lord Elrond." Tauriel replied, giving him a warm smile.

They reached the cells where the dwarves were being held. They were split into pairs and thrown together, Thorin was seething and kept shouting insults at random intervals. He began to hurl several insults at Tauriel in dwarvish. Tauriel led Daeron to a cell where Kili was being held and opened the cell door.

"If you need anything please don't hesitate to ask." Tauriel said quietly before closing the cell door and walking away. Daeron kept his eyes on Tauriel watching as she disappeared around the bend and out of sight. He sighed as he took in his surroundings; they were stuck behind heavily reinforced metal gates.

"Well this is hopeless, we won't make it to Erebor before the last day of Durin's day." Balin said Thorin declared he'd never give in to Thranduil.

8

"There's still hope, Bilbo is not among us." Thorin said slowly a glimmer of hope shimmered in his eyes.