Note: For Scribbles & Drabbles 2023. Art by Scylla's Revenge can be found linked in this story on Ao3, or on Tumblr.
(***)
The wind was picking up in the trees. The shushing of their fluttering leaves rippled through the heavy air of Mirkwood forest. Skittering and hissing sounds hit his sensitive ears – moving from one direction to the next erratically. A loud clicking came at him from behind. Legolas turned swiftly, bow ready to shoot the offending creature. The forest floor churned as whatever it was tunneled through the leaf litter. Far in the distance, an ominous peal of thunder rumbled.
"Ingoleth…" Legolas said, trying to be patient. A mosquito flew into his face, buzzing loudly and suddenly in his ear.
"Yes, my Prince?" the elf replied. She turned to face him. The bizarre contraption she used to examine the forest floor stared back at him, the thick glass of the lens magnifying one of her eyes so it looked grossly out of proportion to her face.
Tauriel flinched in revulsion beside him at the sight of the glistening white orb, punctuated by a disk of flinty gray and a wide, black pupil.
Thunder growled again, coming ever closer like a wildcat stalking its prey. A gust of wind blew through the tree branches, making a moaning sound.
"It seems there's a storm coming. We should probably leave now," he suggested politely. Legolas glanced nervously towards Dol Guldur, a mere five hundred paces from where they stood. For the thousandth time he regretted his flippancy four days ago when the lore master had appealed to his father for help.
(***)
From beside his father's throne, Legolas had tried to project an air of dignity and resist the urge to smirk or laugh. He had glanced across the room at Tauriel, who stood tall and still in the doorway, every inch the professional captain of the guard. It was only because they were friends that he could see how hard she was working to keep her face neutral. Her nostrils flared for a second – he thought she was trying not to burst into laughter.
"But Tauriel was correct, your Majesty," Ingoleth said, as though this was the best news she'd ever had the privilege to tell anyone in her long life. "The creatures are spawning around the ruins of Dol Guldur!"
Legolas resisted the urge to gag. Tauriel caught his eye for a split second and the two elves swiftly looked away from each other to avoid breaking out into mocking snickers.
"If I could have but a few guards to assist me, I could analyze them as they deserve," the eccentric elf had begged Thranduil, who looked down on her with an air of indulgence. Ingoleth was odd, but she was skilled at bringing important information about the inner workings of his forest to his attention, after all.
"It is a rich breeding ground. You cannot take three steps without crushing an egg sack. There is so much we can learn by observing these fascinating creatures in their natural habitat, your Majesty," Ingoleth said, giving Thranduil an exaggerated bow.
Legolas cleared his throat to keep from laughing at her. A more absurd elf, he'd never known. Tauriel shook her head slightly and looked at the ceiling before gaining control of her face again. Neither escaped Thranduil's notice.
"Yes, of course," Thranduil said smoothly. "It is important to understand our foes. So important, I will send my own son to aid you in your venture. And Tauriel here, a Captain of my own guard."
Legolas and Tauriel both looked at Thranduil with wide eyes. He raised an eyebrow and looked back at them both.
"Yes, my King," Tauriel said, finding her professional expression again.
"As you wish, father," Legolas agreed, keeping his displeasure to himself.
When Thranduil's back had turned, Legolas caught Tauriel's gaze and rolled his eyes.
(***)
Looking at the bewildered face of the unconventional elf he was tasked with guarding, looking up at him through that disconcerting, distorted lens, Legolas grimaced at his own arrogance.
"But, my Prince," Ingoleth said, eyes wide and sincere. "We have not yet had the chance to observe these creatures during a rainstorm. Just think of the things we could learn about their behavior!"
Ingoleth lifted her gloved hand, eagerly showing her escort the wriggling, white larva she'd just extracted from the damp earth.
"An immature horned beetle, I believe," she told them, as though the significance of this was obvious. She carefully placed the squirming maggot into a jar, then sealed the lid, ensuring that the air holes were clear. She placed it beside the others in her basket. A gangly green insect with saw-toothed blades for hands scrabbled against the glass of its enclosure.
"Shh, shh," Ingoleth told the creature she'd called a 'mantis'. The wind echoed her, whispering a warning of the deluge to come as it slithered through the thick foliage.
"I propose we shelter under that outcropping," the scientist told her captive audience, pointing to a meager shelf of rock protruding from the side of a large, mossy stone formation that lurked in the shadows to their left.
"We can watch their activities during this change in weather – such an incredible opportunity," she said happily. "Perhaps we will get to watch them breeding."
Beside him, Legolas heard Tauriel swallow thickly.
"If that is what your venture requires, then lead on," Legolas finally replied.
His father had been quite stern with him: give Ingoleth what she needed and take some time to think about whether mocking those who supplied vital information to their Kingdom was conduct befitting one of the royal line. If he had to watch these spawn of Ungoliant mating in the eaves of his once green and golden wood, so be it. It couldn't be as bad as Thranduil in a vengeful mood, could it?
The three elves huddled under the rock ledge. Legolas and Tauriel's weapons were drawn and ready, but Ingoleth looked as gleeful as a child who'd just been offered a gift.
Rain drops began to splatter, rasping as they hit the dry, brown leaves that covered the forest floor around Dol Guldur. The storm picked up and within a few minutes the creatures the Necromancer had drawn up from the bowels of the earth revealed themselves: scorpions skittered under rotting branches. Enormous, iridescent beetles scurred over fungus-covered tree stumps, trailing black slime behind them. Every kind of creak, squeak, croak, shriek, chitter, and clack struck up a chorus with the staccato sound of the rain beating through the thick trees as the insects and arachnids of Mirkwood sought shelter from the downpour.
"Yes, yes!" Ingoleth muttered. A flash of lightning illuminated her rapt face watching her subjects in all their glory, before she took out her field journal and began furiously scribbling in it, shielding it from the torrent with her own body.
"This is fantastic, this is amazing!" she exclaimed. "I am so glad we're here to see this!"
"Yes, how wonderful," Tauriel said, failing to keep the facetious edge out of her voice. Legolas caught her eye, his expression oscillating between alarm and disgust.
"I think it shall rain all night!" Ingoleth proclaimed, triumphant. "This is perfect, my Prince, perfect!"
"Very good," Legolas forced himself to say. An immense centipede slithered across his boot and he yanked his foot back.
(***)