A/N: Enjoy~
Part 1: Flee of the Fallen
Chapter 12: Reluctant Chase
Just as his father had commanded, Legolas ordered the entire patrol force out of the palace to comb their realm. "Fast, stay alert!" he called to the patrol teams that ran past him as he stood by the kingdom's gate, counting their numbers before directing his horse to the front and entering the forest.
Whistling, his patrol team followed him as he chose a route that seemed most familiar to him. In the heart of Mirkwood, the trees stood like ancient sentinels, their gnarled branches intertwining to form a dense canopy that swallowed the daylight. Shadows danced eerily among the twisted trunks, creating an oppressive atmosphere that seemed to grow thicker with each step.
Legolas stopped abruptly, the horse behind him almost colliding with his.
He recognized this place. This was where the tree stood, the tree where he had seen the happiness of his family. The tree which the Valar had actually spoken to him.
"It's gone," Legolas whispered, unable to believe his eyes. "It's gone, how could it be gone?" he muttered, louder this time.
"Milord, I beg your pardon, but is something amiss?" One of the guards had the courage to step forward.
"No, mind your own business," Legolas snapped, sounding harsher than he meant. Luckily, his guards were extremely used to their prince acting this way, so they merely retreated to their posts.
He inwardly groaned, returning to his thoughts about the tree. Either it is some kind of sorcery that the tree is hidden, or it may be an illusion just like his father had said. He shook his head; then the blue hand wouldn't make sense.
Speaking of which, he wondered what Ra'evani was doing at that time.
Back at the weaponry, Legolas had spent a significant amount of time polishing his dual knives, wishing that she had already gone far too far for the patrol to catch.
He knew fully well that he shouldn't be thinking that way about a "threat"to their kingdom.
"Captain," another guard spoke softly, "Traces."
Despite his strong urge to slap that guard for pulling him from his thoughts, Legolas dismounted and knelt to examine the ground. The prints were fresh—Gollum's distinctive, scuttling gait. "Form up!" Legolas ordered, gritting his teeth as his patrol team followed.
As they pressed on, the eerie silence of the forest was occasionally broken by distant, ghostly whispers.
Something foul was in the air, like the combination of rotten meat and spoiled cheese.
Then, the unmistakable sound of harsh voices and clanking metal.
"Orcs." Legolas' eyes narrowed, reaching for his bow while signaling his team to halt.
In the clearing, through the dense foliage, the orcs set up a makeshift camp. Two orcs began to gather wood for a fire, while the rest began to remove their armor. Legolas wrinkled his nose, the foul smell even stronger once they had disarmed.
To his absolute disgust, one of the orcs growled as saliva dripped from his chin and pooled on the ground.
"Curse this hunger! I need meat, fresh and bloody!" it spat.
Another orc snarled: "I heard there are filthy elves in this forest, I can't wait to sink my teeth into their flesh."
"Aye, elves are indeed the tastiest," another orc agreed, greedily licking its ugly mouth.
From the corner of his eye, Legolas saw one of the guards reach for his weapon and immediately glared at him. Ever since the last catastrophe with his previous patrol team, Legolas had applied another strategy: to stay low until their enemy lost alertness.
Mirkwood could not afford to lose more.
He could not afford to lose more.
He would not let tears fall.
Their leader growled: "Keep your voices down, you fools. We're not here to chat. We need to find that wretched creature and get out of this cursed forest."
One of the orcs, a smaller and more cunning-looking one, snickered. "Gollum, that slimy little rat. He's probably hiding in some hole, trembling in fear."
Its companion added: "I'd kill for some fresh meat. Maybe we'll find a stray elf or two to feast on."
The leader shot him a withering glare and threw him a piece of what smelled like rotten meat as mosquitoes began to dance around it immediately. "You'll eat when we've found Gollum. Until then, keep your mouth shut and your eyes open."
Legolas motioned for his team to spread out silently and encircle the camp. As they closed in, he drew an arrow from his quiver, the fletching brushing lightly against his fingertips.
His arrow hit its mark, piercing straight through the skull of the leading orc.
With a heavy 'thump', the body fell on the muddy ground.
The sudden attack threw the orcs into chaos. The foul creatures scrambled to stand their guard and pick up their weapons. Shouts of alarm and rage echoed through the clearing as the elves descended upon them with deadly precision. Legolas's arrows flew with unerring accuracy, each shot felling an orc before they could raise their weapons. The elves engaged the remaining orcs in close combat, their blades flashing in the firelight.
Just as a guard raised his blade at the last remaining orc, Legolas fired another arrow, knocking the knife from his hand. The guard yelped in surprise, clutching his now-empty hands.
"Enough!" Legolas commanded, stepping forward. "We need information, not another corpse."
The guards retreated, though remained encircled around their prince and the wounded orc.
"Where is Gollum?" Legolas demanded, his voice cold and unyielding.
The orc spat on the ground, baring its ugly yellowed teeth. "You think I'll talk to you, filth-"
It choked on its next word as Legolas nocked another arrow and drew his bowstring back, aiming directly between the orc's eyes. "You will, if you value your life."
The orc's sneer faltered, replaced by a flicker of fear. He glanced at the other elves, who stood silently, their weapons by their sides.
"Speak," Legolas repeated, his voice a dangerous growl as the point of the arrow pressed against the filth of orc flesh, drawing black blood. "Where is Gollum?"
The orc hesitated, then relented. "He fled to the Misty Mountains. We chased him, but he escaped."
Legolas lowered his bow slightly but kept the arrow ready. "Why were you after him? What does your master want with Gollum?"
The orc's eyes darted nervously. "He has something important... something our master needs. I don't know what it is, but it's powerful. Now, let me go!"
"Who is your master? You will not leave this forest alive if you lie to me."Legolas stepped closer, his eyes narrowing.
The orc shook its head, desperation creeping into its voice. "I swear, that's all I know! Please, let me go!"
Legolas studied it for a moment longer, then put the arrow back in his quiver. With a swift movement, the orc was already on the ground, choking on its own blood. Flexing the knife in his hand, Legolas ordered, "Burn the bodies, we're returning to the palace."
He suppressed a sigh; it was not his wish to return without the escaped prisoner in their dungeons.
"Open the gate, the prince has arrived!"the guards at the front gate yelled, pulling open the mithril gate of the kingdom as Legolas and his patrol team trotted through. Abandoning his horse, he trusted the others to tend to his steed in the stable.
Not surprisingly, Faelon was waiting for him in the halls, standing outside the king's study.
"Well? Any trace of the other prisoner?"Legolas demanded. It almost hurt to call her 'the other prisoner.'
At that moment, the door to the study opened, revealing the king's majestic table. "What have I said about performing the actual report in front of your king?"Both Legolas and Faelon bowed low before they entered.
"Well?"
"Milord, the blue creature did not leave a single trace while escaping,"Faelon responded helplessly.
Blue creature. That's it. Legolas was going to have a word with his second-in-command immediately.
"Impossible,"King Thranduil snapped. "A creature with skin color like that could not have escaped so easily under the watchful eyes of guards. Legolas, have you any news of Gollum?"
"Yes, we encountered a band of orcs, and according to them, Gollum has escaped to the Misty Mountains. Adar, shall we—"
"No, you should not,"the king cut his son off curtly.
"But Adar, if Gollum escaped to—"
A fist slammed on the table, making Faelon flinch, but Legolas was too old to cower at the wrath of his father. "You dare defy me, son?"
"Of course not, Adar,"Legolas replied, his lips curling into a cruel smile.
The Elven king eyed him for a second, then turned to Faelon. "Make sure all the patrols are back; you're dismissed."
It was not hard to notice that Legolas was not, in fact, dismissed, to his utter dismay.
Only after the other ellon had left did the king return his piercing gaze to Legolas. "I see the patrols have drained your energy. Perhaps Elrond's letter could wait until tomorrow."
Legolas stared at his father in surprise. Rivendell had not sent word to Mirkwood for ages; why the sudden urgency?
"As you wish, Adar."He bowed, deciding not to argue with his father on that matter despite his curiosity.
Exhaustion from the day or perhaps a tug at his heart led Legolas to fall asleep almost immediately after his head hit the pillow.
Remarkably, he didn't dwell on the missing tree in the Mirkwood clearing—something that usually plagued his thoughts. Sleep had been elusive since the tragedy that had struck his life, but that night, he would remember to thank the Valar for granting him such a rare reprieve.
Legolas had a relatively uneventful evening—well, almost.
He ignored the tray of food the servants had sent up and the cup of wine he usually relied on to relax his tense muscles. "Brooding is bad for your health," he reminded himself sternly. "Brooding will only make things worse."
So when sleep came effortlessly that night, he was more than grateful.
But his dreams were anything but peaceful.
As Legolas drifted into an uneasy slumber, his dreams took on a disjointed, surreal quality. He found himself soaring through a dark, turbulent sky, the sensation both strange and disorienting. His body felt weightless, yet bound by an invisible force as the wind whipped harshly around him. Just as he began to adjust to the sensation, he felt something at his back.
Blurry shadows loomed at the edges of his vision, shifting and flickering out of sight. These indistinct forms seemed to pursue him, their presence an unnamed threat. He felt their malice, a cold dread gnawing at his very soul.
Suddenly, the dream shifted. He was no longer flying but thrust into the heart of chaos. The clashing of steel and the roars of combatants filled the air, but everything was hazy, as if seen through a fog. Indistinct figures surrounded him, their forms blending into a confusing whirl of motion and sound.
Through the haze, a searing pain erupted in his gut.
He looked down, his vision blurred, a smudge of blood on his tunic.
