See Chapter 1 for disclaimer.

Chapter 2 - Unexpected Company

Anar had traveled more than halfway across the sky when Legolas at last took notice of the passing time. With a small cry of dismay, he realized that any hope that his absence would go undetected was gone. His ada and brother would be sitting down for their midday meal by now and his absence would become glaringly obvious in an instant. His stomach suddenly growled, reminding him that he had not eaten since breakfast so many hours ago. In his hurry to escape, he had neglected to pack some food or water. The more he thought about food, the more loudly his stomach growled.

Perhaps it was time to call an end to his quest. Not only was he hungry, but he was beginning to think that he had been traveling in the wrong direction all along. He had seen no sign of any cottages or their occupants thus far. Though it had been his intention to avoid them for fear of detection at the beginning, it did not seem right that there should be a complete absence of signs of elves living nearby. Could it be that his people did not live in this part of the forest? Not for the first time, he wished he were more familiar with his way in these forests. He would have to pester Tavaro to take him riding more often, and certainly to more distant destinations than just along the path that led from the main gates, which had been the extent of their riding foray to date. After all, how was he ever to learn to find his way about in these forests if he was kept behind the walls of the stronghold all the time? If he had been allowed more freedom to wander about, he would at least be able to find his way to the outer cottages now, he thought indignantly.

Suddenly, his sensitive ears picked up the sounds of something or someone approaching. His heartbeats quickened instantly. Could it be spiders? His first instinct was to scramble into the safety of a tree, and he did so without a second thought. Once he was safely ensconced in the sturdy embrace of a thick branch, at a height which no doubt would horrify his ada, he drew and readied an arrow. If they were spiders, he would be ready for them. It was perhaps fortunate that, at this point, Legolas was blessedly ignorant of the fact that spiders' favoured mode of travel was through the trees and his sense of security was thus preserved for the time being.

The sounds grew louder, interspersed with voices speaking words that were unfamiliar to his ears. Was that the language of spiders? There must be a great many of them and they must be very large indeed to make all those noises. He peered intently through the lattice of leaves, his bow held firmly in his hands. He would not loosen his arrows at them, he had already decided. For now, he only wanted to see what they looked like and then he would leave. But when he was older and a warrior, these dark creatures would not pass by him unscathed, he vowed silently to himself.

The sounds grew louder, as did the voices. Spiders must be very quarrelsome creatures if their clamourous voices were any indication. As the creatures drew nearer, Legolas hardly dared to breathe and feared the loud thumping of his heart would alert the foes to his presence.

The first sight of the creatures caught him totally by surprise and he made an involuntary squeak before he could control himself. Small as the sound might have been, it was enough to stop those creatures in their tracks and several sets of eyes amidst a mass of fur peered up at the very tree where Legolas was perched. Wargs! These must be wargs with all their fur! And they had seen him! He must get away!

He scrambled along the branch and without hesitation, leapt onto the outreaching branch of a nearby tree, landing with innate elven agility on the sturdy tree limb. His ada would be truly horrified now for he had expressly forbidden Legolas to leap between branches, ever. That could not be helped now. He had to get away from those wargs if he did not want to be eaten by them. He was certain his ada would much prefer a leaping elfling than a dead elfling. They were shouting at him now. He had not known that wargs could speak.

He made another leap and this time, his agility failed him. With a cry of dismay, he felt himself falling through the air. The tree that he had been aiming for was equally alarmed and it reached out with one of its lower boughs to cushion the elfling's fall. The branch arrested the falling momentum for a brief second before snapping under Legolas' weight, slight as it was, and the broken branch and elfling both tumbled to the ground.

Legolas landed on his back with a thump, shattering the small quiver and all air was driven from him. When he could not draw in any precious breath, panic seized him and sight and sound disappeared as well. Blindly thrashing, he rolled onto his hands and knees, his fingers clawing desperately at the moss covered ground. Then miraculously, he was finally able to inhale a wheezing gasp of life-saving air, and sight and sound returned. Too occupied in sucking in gulps of air to fill his tortured lungs, Legolas was oblivious to the approach of his pursuers.

It was only when Legolas was finally able to calm his heaving breaths that he caught sight of the several pairs of boots before him. With a small whimper of fear, he scrambled backwards on his haunches in a futile effort to get away from the wargs. Even in his fear, he thought it strange that wargs should be wearing boots. Although the wearers of the boots did not follow him, they did call out in that strange language. At the same time, Legolas found his hasty escape blocked by the trunk of a tree. Bracing himself, he peered up at his pursuers.

One of the creatures directed a string of words at him. Legolas stared at it blankly and shook his head. It was then that he realized that these creatures were wearing clothing and each was armed with a sturdy and dangerous looking axe. Upon closer inspection, Legolas realized that these creatures were standing upright on two legs though they were not much taller than himself. These were no four-legged wargs!

"Dwarves!" Sudden realization came out in a half-whisper.

At the sound, the creatures looked at one another and then back at the crouching elfling.

"So you do have a tongue!"

It was the same one who spoke, though this time, Legolas found that he could understand the words. Comprehension slowly dawned on him. The dwarf was now speaking Westron, one of the tongues taught to him by his tutor. Slowly, he nodded and continued to eye them warily.

"Where are the others?" the same one asked.

"Others?" The Westron word sounded strange rolling from his tongue.

"You cannot be by yourself. You are but an elfling, barely big enough to fill the height of my boot."

"I am much taller than your boot!" His indignation overrode his fear.

The dwarf harrumphed in response. His companions sniggered. It was then that Legolas took count and realized that there were six of them. He hoped fervently that they would allow him to go on his way. He cannot hope to outfight all six of them, even if he could get to his bow and scattered arrows.

"So elfling, where are the others?" The question was repeated.

Legolas' brain scrambled for an answer. "They are nearby." He decided that it was not really a lie as other elves were nearby, though not as nearby as he wished they were. His ada did not approve of lying.

At this response, the dwarves suddenly exchanged glances of alarm before looking about warily. Encouraged, Legolas decided to add to what he had said. "They are hunting nearby. As I am too small to hunt, I am told to wait here for them. They will be back very soon."

The dwarves looked at each other in growing dismay and one of them said, "Maybe we should leave before they return."

"We did not see any elves along the way. The elfling is lying," another countered.

Legolas held his breath.

"But I hear elves are fiercely protective of their young ones and would never leave one by himself." The third one added his opinion, in dwarvish.

"It is a her, not him. Look at all that hair." It was now the fourth one's turn to speak, continuing in the same tongue.

"All elves have long hair like that. They spend a better part of their lives preening those locks, since that is the only hair on their scrawny hides. They can only dream of having beards like ours." The fifth one was not content to remain silent either.

"Enough!" the second dwarf barked irritably. "We are trying to find out how this elfling came to be here, not argue over his sex or his hair."

"He dropped from the trees," the fourth dwarf pointed out.

"So he did. What of that?"

"He is such a wee little thing. Maybe he has just been birthed." Seeing the puzzled looks on his companions' faces, he explained, "Well, he was growing on the tree and once reaching proper size, he dropped, just like fruits do when ripe."

"You ignorant bundle of useless beard! Elves do not grow on trees! I fear your body has used its all to grow that feet-tangling beard of yours and left none to grow a brain with!"

"He is a Wood Elf, is he not? And how do you know they do not grow on trees? These Wood Elves are notoriously secretive. Who knows what goes on behind these trees."

"Well, I still do not believe this one hatched from a tree! Besides, he is fully clothed. New babes are naked."

"Silence, you two! We need to decide what to do with the elfling. I doubt his kin is nearby or we would be shot full of arrows by now. I think he is lost."

"Then let him stay lost. That is no concern of ours. We need to get away from here before we are shot full of arrows."

"Have you forgotten that we have been chased by those cursed spiders for two days? We cannot leave the wee one here to be eaten by those dark creatures!"

"He is an elf! Why should we trouble ourselves worrying whether he is eaten by spiders? Better him than us. Let his own kin worry about that!"

"But he is by himself and his kin is nowhere near! Would you leave one of our youngs to be eaten?"

"Of course not! But he is not one of our youngs. And what would our kin think of us if we should risk our necks to help an elf?"

"And where would we take him? We should not be in these forests in the first place. If we are to deliver him to other elves, that would be akin to proclaiming our act of trespass to them pointy-ears. We will end up in the Elven King's dungeons."

"It was not our intent to trespass. Those cursed spiders forced us to take this route. It is the fault of them elves. They should not let those cursed creatures roam so freely."

"If we return this wee one to his people, his kin will be so grateful to us that they will show us a safe passage out of this forest."

"You would ask aid of elves?!"

"It is not asking for aid if it is provided willingly, and it will be. Trust me. Elves may have no other redeeming value, but they do dote on their young."

"You may have a point there. I do not want to spend the rest of my days running about in this forest dodging spiders."

Three others concurred with this course of action.

The sixth one finally spoke up after a grudging silence. "I am out-voted then. Do not ask me go anywhere near that elf. I do not wish to catch any sickness he might be carrying."

"We all agree then. Good, I will tell the elf what we have decided."

It was fortunate that the above conference among the dwarves was carried out in their own tongue and that Legolas understood not a word of it or the elfling would have been highly insulted and angered by some of the comments made. As his fate was being discussed at length, Legolas continued his wary observation of these creatures that had been the subject of a very cursory lesson given by his tutor not too long ago. In spite of his misgivings of the dwarves' intentions toward him, Legolas could not help but marvel that he was presently in the company of dwarves, real live dwarves. It was not as exciting as seeing a spider, he supposed, but it was better than nothing.

His reverie was suddenly broken when he saw one of the dwarves approaching him. He tried to press back further against the tree, but there was nowhere for him to go. Swallowing the odd lump that was growing in his throat, he looked up at the creature, and hoped that the fear that he was feeling did not show on his face.

"We have decided to take you back to your kin," the dwarf informed him. "You cannot stay here by yourself."

Legolas stared at him with widened eyes. What would his ada say when he returned with six dwarves in tow? He had brought home strayed animals before, but these dwarves were not strayed creatures from the woods, not really.

"Do you know the way to your people?" the dwarf asked.

"I know part of the way," Legolas admitted truthfully. "I left marks on the trees."

"When we come upon your people, you will tell them what happened. We do not want them poking us full of arrows thinking that we have taken you by force."

Legolas nodded. These dwarves had chased him but they had done no real harm to him, yet.

"You are hurt. There is blood on your leg."

Legolas gave him a startled look before glancing down at his own leg. Blood was indeed seeping from a ragged tear in his leggings. The sight of blood immediately gave rise to a sensation of pain that he had somehow not felt until now and he could not help the hiss that escaped through his parted lips. To make matters worse, pain flared suddenly on his back as well, where he had landed on and crushed his quiver. Tears threatened but he made a valiant effort at pushing them back. He must not cry. He must not shame himself by showing weakness before these dwarves. But both his leg and back were throbbing painfully.

Suddenly he realized that the dwarf was reaching for his leg with a scrap of cloth in hand. He drew back instantly.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"I was going to wrap your leg with this. We cannot have you leaving a trail of blood for the spiders to follow," the dwarf replied.

"Spiders?" Legolas asked, the pain temporarily forgotten.

"Aye, spiders. They have been dogging our trail for near two days now."

"Are they near?" Legolas asked excitedly.

"I hope not! Now let me wrap that leg of yours and we best be on our way. I have no intention of standing about to find out how near they are."

The cloth looked as if it had not seen water and soap for quite some time now. Legolas wrinkled his nose in distaste as the dwarf wound the cloth around his injured leg.

"Can you walk?" the dwarf asked when he was done.

"I can walk," Legolas answered quickly and pushed himself upright. It hurt to move, but he was not about to let one of the dwarves carry him like a babe. Limping over to where his broken quiver lay, he gathered the few scattered arrows while his eyes searched about for his bow. He found it near the tree from which he had fallen, broken and beyond repair. This time, he was nearly unable to hold back the tears. Aldeon had made this bow for him, his first bow.

"Leave that bow. You might as well leave the arrows too as they are useless without a bow," the dwarf said.

"No!" Legolas clutched the bow tighter to him. "I will leave the arrows, but I am not leaving the bow. We go this way." Without another word, he headed in the direction where he had last marked a tree.

The dwarf shrugged and called to his companions to follow. The company of one elfling and six dwarves trampling through the forest of Mirkwood was a rare sight indeed. A few forest creatures paused to stare in amazement and the trees murmured excitedly among themselves.

Meanwhile, at some distance back, the spiders picked up the trail unwittingly left by the dwarves.

TBC