I borrow characters and settings from Tolkien, but they are his, not mine.  I gain nothing other than the enriched imaginative life I assume he meant for me to gain.

Many thanks to Nilmandra for beta reading this chapter.

*******

5.  First Battles

The scouts dropped from the trees and ran to where Todith had risen to his feet when he saw them.  They must have found spiders, Legolas thought excitedly, seeing the scouts’ manner.  A short while ago, they had arrived at this temporary camp in the southwestern part of their territory, and Todith had immediately sent out the scouts.  Legolas knew from his training that they would be looking for spiders or any signs of them, such as webs or abandoned nests, that the patrol could follow back to the parent colony where they were breeding.  He moved closer to Todith so he could hear the scouts’ report.

“We have found a large colony, captain,” reported a breathless scout, “and there are egg cocoons.”  Legolas’s stomach tightened. With exceptionally good fortune, the scouts had found the breeding colony on their first excursion. There would be no skirmishes with small groups of spiders leading up to an attack on the main group.  They would be engaging in battle almost immediately.  He drew a long breath.

“How many spiders?” Todith demanded.

The scouts glanced at one another.  “Perhaps seventy-five?” one of them ventured and the other nodded in confirmation.  Legolas licked his lips.  In a youthful excursion into the woods, he had once seen giant spiders and had even killed several of them, but he had never seen more than half a dozen in one place.

“Does everyone understand what we are doing?” Todith asked, scanning the group and letting his eyes rest for just a split second longer on Legolas than on anyone else.  The captain’s usual relaxed manner had disappeared, and he was now a firm commander, who wanted reassurance that his orders would be followed.

Legolas nodded in response.  Todith had reviewed spider hunting tactics after they had arrived here, and they were nothing that Legolas did not already know from his training.  He shifted his weight impatiently from one foot to the other.  Surely it was time to be underway.

“Good,” said Todith.  “Let us go then.”  And the Border Patrol warriors began moving into the trees.  Legolas was eagerly turning to follow, when Todith put out a hand to stop him.  “No rushing ahead, Legolas,” he warned.  “Stay with the others.”

Legolas blinked at him in surprise. Surely he had given his captain no reason to think he would be so rash as to strike out on his own in a battle.  “Of course not,” he said, frowning a little.

Todith gazed into his eyes and then smiled slightly.  “No, of course not.”  He released Legolas and gestured for him to be on his way.

Legolas leapt from one branch to another, moving through the trees with his fellow warriors.  He could see Tynd a short distance in front of him, and he knew that Beliond was just to his right, but almost the entire patrol was here.  They had left only two warriors to guard the camp and relay messages.  Everyone else had come on the hunt.  Every nerve in Legolas body thrummed with excitement at the idea that he was finally going to see battle.  He knew that Annael had already fought with spiders nearer home, and while Annael’s letter had not given many details, he had apparently done well enough in the fight.  I am ready for this, Legolas reassured himself with determination.  They are only spiders, after all.

From ahead came the sound of birdsong, and his heart took a sudden leap into his throat.   They had reached their destination.  He grabbed his bow from his shoulder, changed his course and moved quickly toward the source of the signal, aware that Beliond had moved up to be just behind him. The two of them slowed, for he could see Todith standing high in an oak tree with his back to them.  The captain was pointing silently to his right, and Tynd, who had arrived just ahead of them, nodded and slipped off through the trees. Legolas and Beliond landed softly on the branch next to Todith.

Legolas looked in the direction in which Todith faced.  The space between the trees was dusky despite the high summer sun, and it took him only an instant to realize that the light was dimmed by thick gray ropes of webbing that trailed from high overhead all the way to the ground.  He scanned the trees, looking for the nests that he knew had to be there. With quickening breath, he first spotted four piles of old leaves in one tree, and then as he looked from tree to tree, he saw dozens more hidden in the branches.  In each of them, he could see the black shape of a spider, sleeping but undoubtedly ready to move should any of the Elves brush against the webs. In at least half a dozen places, long cocoons bulging with eggs hung from beneath the nests.

A mixture of revulsion and fury swept through him, and his hand tightened on his bow.  He had lived his whole life in the shelter of his father’s stronghold, and while he had heard about the corruption spreading through the trees in the southern part of Thranduil’s realm, he had never actually seen it for himself.  In this spider infested glade, he suddenly saw the shadow made real in the gloom cast by the webs and the foul black creatures crouching in the nests.

As if sensing Legolas’s emotions, Todith touched his arm and murmured, “Hold your position.  No heroics.”  Legolas nodded, startled once again by Todith’s worry that he would act on his own. Todith held him in a severe gaze for a moment and then seemed to relax slightly. He pointed around them, making sure that Legolas had seen all of the nests and then raised an eyebrow at Legolas, who nodded to show that he understood.  At last, Todith gestured off to his left and Legolas moved carefully in that direction to stand a short distance from Tinár, while Beliond took up a post on a nearby branch, his bow at the ready.

Like Tinár and Beliond, Legolas stood immobile with an arrow nocked in his bow string, waiting for Todith to signal that everyone was in position and that the spider colony was surrounded.  As he glanced to either side, he could not help but be grateful that he was flanked by these two experienced warriors.  He knew what he was supposed to do in fighting spiders:  kill as many of them as possible as quickly as possible so that they did not have time to spread out and come at him and his companions.  But, in truth, the size of the colony in front of him was unnerving.  Spiders were not a particularly difficult foe, he knew, but he found that they were a repulsive one.  He realized that he was breathing in short pants and deliberately drew a deeper breath to steady himself.

From his right came a clear note of bird song, and with a steadiness born of long years of training, he drew and released, sending an arrow into the huge black body of the spider who was nearest him.  The thing let out a shriek, convulsed, and then lay sprawled half over the edge of its nest.  Legolas stared at it for second, fascinated by the way his arrow quivered in the spider’s body.  “Legolas,” called Beliond sharply, and he snapped back to attention and began to fit arrow after arrow to his bowstring and launch them into the spiders, who were now coming awake and trying to scramble out of their nests.  He saw one of his arrows hit home and pin a spider to the branch on which it nested and another send a spider plummeting to the ground.

With the element of surprise on their side, he and his fellow warriors had slaughtered at least half the spiders before they realized they were under attack, but now the beasts were aroused and had started to swarm out along the strands of webbing to launch an assault of their own.  Making horrible clicking noises, they spread in all directions, so that it was only too easy to lose track of where they all were.  Across the glade, Legolas suddenly saw one of the creatures scuttling onto the branch where Tynd stood, wielding a bow that was useless as a weapon at such a short distance.  Tynd grabbed for his sword, but Legolas was quicker and sent an arrow speeding across the glade to impale the spider, which stopped abruptly and then toppled out of the trees.

He nocked yet another arrow and swiveled quickly, looking for a target.  Unable to spot one, he scanned the trees frantically, but could see only limp, black bodies. Could the battle be over already?  He could not believe it!

Suddenly, from his right, he heard the twang of a bowstring and the whistle of an arrow flying past him and into the tree overhead.  Something landed on his left arm and then a spider cartwheeled gracefully past him and down to the earth below with an arrow sticking out of its eye.  Legolas jerked back and looked to where Beliond stood with his bow arm still extended. Then he glanced at his own left arm and saw a great glob of black blood spreading glutinously down toward his elbow. He flinched and reached out to swipe at the glob, but then drew his hand back, trembling slightly.  It was better not to touch the repulsive stuff, he thought.

He heard Todith call “Hold!” and knew that the battle was over, although it could not have lasted more than ten minutes.  These experienced Wood-elf warriors had simply overwhelmed the spiders.

Beliond landed on the branch beside him. “Are you hurt?” he demanded urgently, clutching Legolas’s arm.  Legolas shook his head, and his keeper let out a long breath and then actually shook him.  “You have to watch overhead,” he said harshly.  “Spiders can come at you from all directions.”

“I know that,” said Legolas defensively.

“Then why did you not do it?” Beliond queried angrily.

“I made a mistake,” Legolas snapped. “Have you never made a mistake?”

“Young warriors can pay with their lives for mistakes like that one,” Beliond hissed.

Legolas glared and was about to say something that would have earned him a week of night duty from the novice masters, when Todith called to them. “Get the webs down,” he ordered.

Legolas jerked his arm free from Beliond’s grasp and, with one last venomous look, turned to scale further into the tree to where the tops of the strands of webbing were attached.  He edged his way out on a branch, pulled his knife from his belt, and lying flat on his stomach, began to hack the thick, sticky rope free from the tree limb.  He crept forward and cut the second rope that was attached to this branch.

Then, for a moment, he lay staring down at the Elves beneath him who were clearing an area for a fire and dragging spider bodies, cocoons, and webbing toward it.  He realized that his hand, which had been so steady during the battle, was still shaking slightly.  Where had that last spider come from?  It had been directly over him, and if Beliond had not shot it, it almost certainly would have been down upon him. Its bite probably would not have killed him, but it would certainly have made him sick and he found that the thought of having the thing on top of him was repellent beyond belief.  He turned his head to see his keeper cutting webbing from a branch some distance away.  Even from where Legolas lay, he could see that Beliond’s face was grim.  Legolas smiled thinly.  Beliond had been as shaken by the encounter as he had been.

He drew a deep breath and began moving back off the branch so that he could descend to the ground and help with the clean up.  He could not worry about what was past.  He would be more alert next time. He had to be.  Suddenly he felt a slight tug and realized that his rune of protection, which had been dangling from his neck, was caught on a twig.  He reached to free it, but as he pulled on it, the chain broke and the necklace came loose in his hand.  Grimacing in annoyance, he tucked the rune and chain in his belt, slid back off the branch, and climbed to the ground.

For the next half hour, he tipped spider bodies out of nests, knocked the nests and cocoons to the ground, and dragged down bits of webbing.  The webbing left a sticky mess on his hands, but handling the spider bodies was worse, for they had bled from the arrow wounds and viscous dark blood was smeared over their leathery backs and even on the coarse hair on their legs.  He ignored his disgust and resolutely stuck to his task.

Finally, they had finished flinging the debris onto the fire.  Now they would have to wait for the fire to consume it all and burn low enough to pose no danger to the forest.  His companions sat leaning against trees, drinking from their water skins and taking the opportunity to eat a bit of the fruit and bread they had brought with them.  Legolas found he was not hungry, and indeed, after handling the spiders, he doubted that his stomach would welcome food.  He had been retrieving his arrows as he found them, identifying them by the style of his fletching.  Now he took them all and went to sit near a patch of long grass and begin cleaning the gooey black blood off of them.  He rubbed them through the grass repeatedly, vexed that evidence of the loathsome spiders still marked them.

Someone stopped near him and he looked up to see Tinár scowling down at him.  What had he done to provoke Tinár? he wondered in surprise.

“You should put more effort into staying aware of what is going on around you and less effort into trying to outshoot me, Legolas,” Tinár said through tight lips.  Legolas was utterly astonished.  He had been unaware of Tinár while he had been shooting, except as the rapid source of arrows to his left.

“He outshoots you without trying,” said Beliond, and Legolas turned, startled.  He had not heard his keeper approach and, judging by the look on his face, neither had Tinár.  “He could not do otherwise even if he wanted to, so you had better learn to accept it.”  For a moment, Tinár looked as if he would protest, but Beliond regarded him with narrowed eyes, and he evidently thought better of it and strode angrily away.  Legolas sat stock still, trying to absorb the praise that his keeper had just given him.   Where had that come from?

He stared at Beliond, who stood looking down at him, and then at the arrow still clutched in his hand. Beliond sighed and then, to Legolas’s surprise and not entirely to his delight, he sat down next to him, took the arrow from him and laid it aside with the others.  “The arrow is clean enough,” he said, sounding almost gentle.  “I am afraid that you will never be able to wipe signs of any battle away entirely.”  Legolas looked down at the pile of arrows and frowned.  Beliond sounded as if he were talking about more than just the traces of black stuff that still fouled them.

There was a moment’s silence, and then Beliond surprised him by saying, “You did well, Legolas.  You are an exceptionally good archer, and you fought with discipline and courage.”  He paused and plucked at the grass between his feet.  “I did not mean to disparage you when I said that mistakes sometimes kill young warriors.”  His eyes were still on the ground, but his hand had stopped moving. “Skill and courage are not always enough,” he said, almost as if to himself.

Legolas hesitated, not quite knowing what to say.  “I know I will make mistakes,” he finally said diffidently, “but I will try to learn from them.”

Beliond looked up at him and smiled slightly. Then he looked down at Legolas’s hands, and Legolas realized that he had pulled his broken rune necklace from his belt and was fidgeting with it.

“What is that?” Beliond asked.

“The chain broke,” Legolas said.

 “Let me see,” said Beliond.  Legolas handed him the necklace, and he examined it carefully, removed the broken link, and then took out his knife and began to pry the next link apart.  “To whom did the rune belong before you?” Beliond asked conversationally.

“No one,” Legolas answered.  “My brother gave it to me at my coming-of-age.”

“It belonged to someone,” Beliond said with a shrug.  He hooked the link he had just opened into an unbroken one and pinched the open ends together.  Then he pointed to the flat spot on the rune’s back. “That is a wear spot.”  He extended the repaired necklace to Legolas, who sat staring at it in dismay.

He had known that the rune looked like Eilian’s, of course, but he had assumed that his brother had simply given him one that matched his own.  It had never occurred to him that Eilian had given him the rune that had always hung around his neck.  He thought suddenly of Eilian’s shadow sickness and fear stabbed him.  Beliond was looking at him curiously, so he took the rune and put it back around his neck.  “Thank you.”  

Beliond looked around. “Come,” he said. “Todith is getting ready to move us out to hunt for any spiders that have spread from this colony.”  He rose and walked off without another word. Legolas began to gather his arrows.  They were not clean enough to suit him, but they would have to do for now, because Todith was indeed ordering them to their feet to start another search.  He slid the arrows into his quiver, jumped to his feet, and went to where Todith was assembling them so that he could issue more orders.

Todith smiled broadly at Legolas.  “You did well, Legolas. The next time you see Eilian, you may tell him that I was relieved to see that you do not take after him.”  Legolas smiled back at him, suddenly realizing why Todith had been worried that he would be impulsive.  From what Legolas had gathered from overheard conversations at home, Eilian had settled down considerably over the years but had been notoriously adventuresome as a young warrior.

He fingered the rune around his neck, touching the flat spot on the back.  Be safe, Eilian, he thought urgently.  And then Todith was ordering them away, and he had no time to think of anything but what he was doing.

***

Eilian fingered the rune hanging around his neck. He was still wearing the one his father had given him just before he left home.  He did not always get along with his father, but he had never doubted that Thranduil’s magic was strong.  And, he smiled wryly to himself, touching the rune again, he had also never doubted that his father loved him, despite the fact that they occasionally had difficulty being in the same room together.

He shifted, easing his long legs out from under him and leaning back against the trunk of the tree in which he was perched.  Through the tree’s thick leaves, he could see moonlight glittering on the stream where they had found the Warg tracks on two separate occasions now.  This was the third night his little group had lain in wait, hoping to find the animal.  If it did not show up tonight, he would probably have to send them back to their regular patrols and come here to watch again only if they found more tracks.

He wished they could trail the animal after it left their territory, but Ithilden had made it clear that they were to continue their patrols rather than go chasing after what might be just a lone Warg.  Ithilden could be tiresomely rule bound sometimes.  One of the advantages of captaining the Southern Patrol had been that it was far enough away from home that he had been able to make his own decisions about what actions his patrol should take.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a slight movement and stiffened, but he quickly realized that Galelas was simply moving to a tree that was a little closer to the stream. His view must have been impeded in the tree he had first chosen, Eilian thought.  And trust Galelas to want to be closest to their prey if it turned up.  The young warrior was always the first one to volunteer for any action, the last one to admit he was tired, the most eager to do anything that might bring him to Eilian’s attention.  Eilian had not been surprised when Galelas had asked to be part of the Warg hunt.

Suddenly, he could see Galelas freezing into stonelike immobility and at the same moment, with the scout’s instinct that had always served him well, the hair on the back on his neck stood up.  A split second later, he saw the Warg, padding silently toward the stream, its huge head turning alertly from side to side and its nostrils quivering.

I wonder if it smells us, Eilian thought, holding his breath.  They were down wind from the stream, but Wargs had an extremely acute sense of smell, a fact that made them very difficult to hunt.  Eilian stayed immobile, not wanting to take a chance on the Warg noticing him move.  Galelas too was still, and Eilian assumed that Maltanaur and Calorfil were as well because the Warg did not seem to spot them.  They all waited while the glittering eyes of the Warg passed over them as it scanned the area and sampled the air.  Then the Warg lowered its head, turned toward the stream, and advanced toward it, with its tongue already lolling out.

As it began to lap at the water, Eilian rose to his feet, with an arrow nocked in his bow.  He could see Galelas rising too, with his bow already drawn.  Because he had been unable to predict who would have the best shot at the Warg, Eilian had given his warriors permission to shoot when ready, and Galelas loosed his arrow a second before Eilian released his.  Arrows flew from two other trees too, and the Warg jerked and sprang to the left as all four arrows struck him all along his right side.  It staggered and fell, twitched once, and lay still.  Galelas jumped from the tree and sprinted toward it.  “No!” Eilian shouted. “Wait!”

Puzzled, Galelas hesitated and turned toward him, and as he did, the Warg struggled to its feet, gathered all its ebbing strength, and leapt at the young warrior.  In an action too fast to see, three arrows whistled through the air to land in the center of the animal’s chest.  The Warg’s momentum carried it forward, however, and it struck Galelas in the side, knocking him down, but it was dead before it landed on the ground.

Eilian was out of the tree and running toward Galelas before he and the Warg had stopped moving.  “What did you think you were doing?” he cried, shoving the Warg aside and dropping to his knees next to Galelas.  “Are you injured?”

Galelas looked stunned but he shook his head.  Maltanaur and Calorfil had now run up to them too, and Galelas suddenly looked dismayed, awareness of his mistake obviously beginning to dawn on him.  Eilian sat back on his heels, trying to control his rising fury.  In his eagerness to be first, this young fool had nearly gotten himself hurt.  He turned to Calorfil. “Make sure the Warg is dead,” he ordered, and Calorfil moved off at once, with Maltanaur at his side.

Eilian turned back to Galelas and could not keep himself from speaking sharply.  “Do you not even know enough to be certain an enemy is dead before you approach it?”

“I am sorry,” Galelas muttered.  “I saw it fall and thought it was dead.”

“The next time, wait to be certain,” Eilian continued his reprimand.  “And if possible, approach only with at least one of your fellow warriors.  There is no point to taking needless risks.”  Suddenly, he was aware of the irony that lay in this situation, for he heard Todith’s voice in his head, saying more or less the same thing to him when he had been Galelas’s age.  He thought his motives for rushing into danger had been different than Galelas’s, but he had certainly given his captain some heart stopping moments.

“Yes, captain.” Galelas looked shamefaced, and abruptly, Eilian felt sorry for him.

Eilian stood up and turned to look at the body of the Warg.  “We have found what we were hunting, at any rate.  So that I suppose we should call this night a success.” Galelas was on his feet now too, and they both walked toward the dead Warg.  “I wonder what he was doing here,” Eilian mused.  Then he shrugged.  “He does appear to have been alone. I suppose he was just a stray.”  He grinned at his small patrol, and even Galelas looked reasonably pleased, although he still did not meet Eilian’s eyes.  “A good night’s work,” Eilian proclaimed. “I think we have earned some rest.” And the four of them started back toward their camp.

As Eilian walked, he found that his eyes were repeatedly drawn to Galelas, who was just ahead of him.  Young warriors were frightening creatures, he decided and, as had happened so frequently in the last few weeks, he wondered what Legolas was doing.  Be safe, brat, he thought fervently.  Do not be like me.  Do what Todith tells you and come home to let me tease you without mercy. I cannot imagine what I would do if anything happened to you.

And his mood, which had lightened during the days and nights of the Warg hunt, suddenly darkened again.  His little brother was now hostage to the fight against Shadow, just as were so many others for whom he cared.  You too are under the sway of the Shadow when you let yourself feel this way, he thought, and looked up at the sky, drawing comfort from the starry night.