A/N: Hey guys! This is Aether. It's actually my first time writing a fanfic, so I apologize if it sucks or anything... I appreciate the reads. Thanks! And thanks to Erebus for helping me write. Enjoy this next chapter!
The group of warriors and trackers travel through the dense and treacherous northern woods. Every step they take is filled with tension and anxiety, as they search for any signs of Legolas.
"Stay vigilant," calls out Thranduil as they press on deeper into the woods. "Keep your eyes peeled for any clues or indications of my son."
As the group continues their search through the tangled trees and dimly lit paths, a sudden rustling sound catches their attention. Thranduil signals for them to halt, his senses on high alert.
"Over there," he whispers to his companions, pointing towards a thicket. "Approach it carefully. We may have found something."
The warriors move forward cautiously, their weapons at the ready. They reach the thicket, their eyes darting around, searching for any sign of something unusual. A bird startles and takes off into the air. Thranduil's shoulders drop. Then one of them spots something and calls out in a hushed voice.
"Over here! A boot!"
Thranduil moves swiftly to the spot where the boot was found. He picks it up, examining it closely. A mix of dread and anger wash over his face as he recognizes it as Legolas's.
"This belongs to my son," he says, his voice cold and tense. "We are on the right track. Keep searching."
The group continues their search, their focus heightened by the discovery of the boot. As they push forward, they come upon a clearing where the forest floor is covered in signs of struggle. Thranduil picks up a broken arrow.
"There was a fight here," he says, his voice strained. "Be on your guard. We must be close."
As the group moves deeper into the clearing, the signs of struggle grow more pronounced. Thranduil spots blood staining the grass, and his heart sinks. He knows time is of the essence.
"Legolas was here," he mutters under his breath. "And he was injured."
The more they search, the more signs of a battle they find. Broken branches, discarded arrows, and bits of torn fabric all point to a fierce confrontation. With concern and determination etched on his face, Thranduil kneels down, his eyes settling on a trail of blood.
"Legolas's blood," he growls, his voice low and filled with anger. "Follow the trail," Thranduil instructs the group, his voice stern. "We must find him quickly before it's too late."
The journey through the winding path becomes even more intense as the group continues to follow the blood trail. It leads them to another clearing, this time more ominous than the last.
"What evil did this?" One of the elves mutter.
Thranduil's eyes narrow as he looks at the carnage around them. His voice is filled with barely contained anger.
"Dark forces," he says, his gaze roaming the clearing. "Orcs, or worse. They are responsible for this."
The group remains quiet for a moment, letting the weight of their surroundings sink in. Thranduil takes a deep breath, then speaks again, his voice steady despite his inner turmoil.
"Split up. We need to cover more ground. Leave no stone unturned. My son cannot be far now."
As the group continues their search, they encounter a thick layer of spider webs, covering the trees like a dark veil. Thranduil's eyes narrow with anger and realization, his distaste for the creatures evident on his face.
"Spiders," he growls, his voice filled with disgust. "This cannot be a coincidence. Orcs and spiders often work together."
The group moves with renewed focus and urgency. Thranduil scans the area, his keen senses attuned to any sound or movement. He notices something in the treetop, and his heart skips a beat.
"There," he mutters, pointing upward. "Up there. Be on your guard."
The group follows Thranduil's gaze and spots a strange cocoon-like structure among the tangled web high in the treetop. Thranduil's face darkens, and he quickens his pace, desperate to reach the object.
"It appears to be some sort of web cocoon," he says, his voice tight with anger and worry. "Legolas could be inside."
Thranduil approaches the tree housing the ominous cocoon. He looks up at it and studies it closely. His heart pounds furiously in his chest, yet his mind stays sharp and focused. He looks for any signs of life within the tangled web.
"Legolas!" he calls out, his voice filled with worry and determination. "Are you in there? Can you hear me, son?"
Thranduil's frustration grows as he's met with only silence. The fear and worry for his son's safety drive him to act without hesitation.
"Give me a rope," he demands one of the elves, "I'm going up there."
The elf closest to him looks shocked, "But you are the king, Hir nin!"
Thranduil's expression hardens, his eyes flashing with purpose.
"I am aware of my position," he says sharply, his voice leaving no room for argument. "But I am also a father. And my son's life is at stake. Hand me the rope. Now."
The elf nods quickly and fetches a rope. Thranduil takes it and swiftly ascends the tree, propelled by a mix of determination and anxiety. He skillfully moves through the treetops, agile despite his regal bearing. He keeps his eyes fixed on the cocoon as he nears it. He doesn't know which would be worse, finding Legolas inside or finding it empty. He reaches the cocoon and tries to still his pounding heart.