Disclaimer: I do not own any of J.R.R Tolkien’s characters, languages, Middle-Earth, or any of his wonderful work.

Rating: PG, only for violence. It could be a bit between PG and PG-13, but again, only for violence and it’s more towards the PG scale, anyways.

As for a time period, this story takes place a little while before the War of the Ring. Legolas is fully grown, as are the others in this story…

A deep blue gaze penetrated the dense forest. Legolas paused on the crest of a small hill, taking precautions before going farther, as he had always been taught to do in the great greenwood. He inwardly sighed, relieved to escape the daily chaos of the palace, and sometimes even his own father, which was a long and complicated story.

Honestly, Legolas thought, I do not know how Ada abides the meetings and complaining personages all day long. And he expects me to sit through them a good part of my day! Here I must differ from him much.

The trees rustled, and Legolas, who had started walking down the slope again, was startled out of his reverie, casting a glance over his shoulder. Nothing there. He strained his keen eyes through the thick foliage to catch a glimpse of the sun, which was going higher in the sky, and turned to make his way back to the palace. Something was amiss in the forest; he could feel it, but not see anything wrong. Legolas fingered his great bow, running his finger along the smooth carvings, then kept walking swiftly back towards the palace.

“And so, if the population continues to use a steady incline of resources…” King Thranduil’s voice seemed to trail away as his son started to nod off. Legolas jumped slightly, pinching himself to try and stay awake. Normally, he certainly wouldn’t fall asleep in the afternoon, but with the droning voices of the noblemen, Legolas could hardly keep his head from nodding. He did not have to worry about this much longer, as shortly thereafter Thranduil called the meeting to a close. Somewhat hastily, the prince jumped from his chair and walked over to his father.

“Ada, I felt something out there, in the woods. I know not what it was, but maybe we should send scouts out.”

“Was it friend or foe?” asked Thranduil, gathering up some papers.

“Again, I know not. But do you not want to send us out after it?”

“You are altogether too restless for adventure, my son. However, yes, you may go, just take a few with you, and report back here no later than an hour after nightfall,” Thranduil replied, turning to go.

The prince walked at the head of the small company, all of whom were secretly hoping this would not involve spiders of any sort. Legolas saw that same top of the slope he had stood on earlier, and ran ahead of all the rest, to stand balancing upon its point. He scanned the woods, but heard nothing. Legolas looked behind him at the rest of the soldiers and saw that they were all looking about uneasily. Just then, he also sensed a growing threat, coming nearer, closer, closer.

“Spiders!” Legolas shouted, just as a giant one came hurtling down from a tree. He swiftly fitted an arrow to his bow, releasing it with all possible speed. The creature gave a terrible cry as it was hit in one of its eyeballs. Three more of the monstrous beasts hurtled out into the midst of the warriors. Legolas drew his two long knives, and set to cutting down every spider that was surrounding him.

Funny enough, he thought, even in the midst of battle, that the spiders always seem to beset the leader, or in my case, the prince, first. He certainly had his hands full, and was glad for the extra elven warriors around him. Getting his footing after
dodging a blow from one of the overgrown arachnids, Legolas spun around and brought one knife down behind the spider’s eyes. It staggered and its legs collapsed, and then lay still, twitching every once in a while, on the forest floor.

Twang! Legolas heard the sound of arrows being fired, and saw a spider wave a broken leg around as it was shot. The arrows did not come from one of their own elves; instead, it seemed to come from another direction, and far away. Bows sung as more arrows flew into the midst of warriors and spiders.

“Duck!” yelled one of the elves as a volley of arrows flew over Legolas’ head. He ducked just in time, and rolled to his left. As he began to get back his footing, he felt a sharp sting in his side, but gave another effort and drove away another spider. Pausing, Legolas looked down and pressed his hand against his right side. He was right. His hand came up crimson and sticky with blood. Legolas inhaled deeply, and could feel it harder and harder to breathe. Having much experience with spider wounds (unfortunately for him) Legolas knew he wasn’t stung with poison, but it was rather a scratch caused by a giant claw.

“Prince Legolas!” a warrior shouted, cutting his way over to him, “What is the matter?”

“Scratched,” gasped Legolas, looking around him. The spiders were almost defeated. A mass of spider blood soaked into the ground.

“We’ll get–you–out–soon,” the other elf said between breaths as he tackled another spider. Legolas used the last of his strength to stand (as surprisingly to himself he had found he was sitting against a tree), and gave a spider a blow under its pinchers. He then saw the dark shapes that were the other unknown warriors emerging from the trees, and as he paused in a split moment, felt a hard knock to the head. It was one of the spiders, on its last legs. Legolas’ vision seemed to melt, as he slowly sat down, dropping his knives. One of the cloaked warriors came and bent over him. As the last of his vision faded and he dropped into darkness, Legolas looked up, and saw Aragorn’s fading face standing over him. He knew no more.

Aragorn was yelling commands left and right. The rangers and elven warriors were gathering arrows and burning the remains of the spiders. Aragorn ran back over to where the prince lay. He bent down and felt Legolas’ pulse, which was still going strongly, and sighed with relief. Then Aragorn looked over at the Elf’s side, which was still bleeding. The ranger took a rag out of his pack and pressed it against the wound. It would have to do for now.

“Aragorn, over–” Elladan paused, walking over to where Aragorn was. Elrohir followed, and both twins started to run over, wide eyed, to kneel next to Aragorn. Neither of the twins wanted to ask the question. Elrohir just raised his eyebrows.

“Yes, he lives,” said Aragorn softly, even chuckling a little at the relief on the twin’s faces, “Did you see when he fell? I have found this one wound on his side, but do not know of any others.”

“I saw him,” said Elladan, “You were tackling that spider, and I was directly across from Legolas at the moment, with nothing to do at the moment. It looked as if he had already been injured, but he got up and managed a blow on another spider. Then another came from behind, and with one blow, hit him on the head. I don’t know anything after that, as I myself got busy with one big ugly spider.”

“Either way, it looks as if he wasnít injured badly, but we better get him back to the palace quickly or he shall be, and Thranduil will have our heads,” said Aragorn, pressing the rag back against the prince’s side, then looking over to see if every other ranger and elf was ready to head out. He looked back down at the rag and the unconscious elf, and saw that the once brownish-colored rag was nearly all red.

“Elladan, Elrohir, have either you got something to stop the blood flow?” Aragorn called. Elrohir tossed over a cloth from his pack, and Aragorn quickly caught it and pressed it against Legolas’ side.

“We’ve got to get out of here!” Aragorn said, “It is not unlikely that the spiders will return for their prey.”

Thranduil stood at the balcony of his upper study. The light was fading fast, and there was no sign of his son or anyone from the scouting party to be seen. The King paced about, and jumped when a servant knocked on the door. “Enter!” the King said. The servant came in, out of breath. “Some from Prince Legolas’ scouting party have been spotted, along with what appears to be a band of rangers, my lord!”

“I will be down with all possible haste,” Thranduil replied, dismissing the servant. Quickly he put on his outer robes and made his way down to the front gates. The group was just coming in sight of the wall. Thranduil saw a few being helped along that were injured, but looked past them to try and spot Legolas. With a shock he caught sight of a body with fair hair being carried back, and as it neared the palace, the king realized it was his son.

“Too often have I seen my son carried back to the gates of the palace,” he said to himself.

Elladan ran ahead of the others, out of breath, to Thranduil. Giving a hasty bow, he said, “King Thranduil, Legolas is alive, but was wounded by a spider not long ago.”

Thranduil needed no further explaination, but swiftly went down to where the prince was laid on the ground. The king bent down, then looked up at Aragorn with a questioning glance in his eyes.

“A spider wound, on his right side, and a bump to the head,” said Aragorn, lifting the rag off the wound to reveal the cut, which was still bleeding now and then. Thranduil looked closer to see, and heard a ragged breath escape Legolas’ lips.

Thranduil waved over a servant. “Get the prince’s room ready immediately!” To Aragorn he said, “I’ll talk to you later about everything. For now, get Legolas inside.”

“Aragorn, if you are as skilled as Elrond has said you to be by now, I bid you proceed with taking care of Legolas’ wound,” said Thranduil.

Aragorn nodded his head, and called for some herbs and bandage. Thranduil then stood, saying, “He seems to be breathing normally now. I have some urgent matters to attend to.” With that, the king left the room, leaving Aragorn with Elladan and Elrohir.

“Well, captain, what is the first order of business?” said Elrohir, half jestingly.

“We’ve got to peel back his tunic and get to the wound,” Aragorn replied, starting to gently do the job himself.

By the time the stars shone in the sky, the job was done and Elrohir said, “Shouldn’t he be waking up soon? It’s an awfully long time since he was knocked out.”

No one replied, but all three just looked at each other. “Maybe the medicine is making him sleep longer,” Aragorn shrugged. “Anyway, we’ll be next door to check on him.” The three of them left the room closing the door behind them.

Thranduil came quietly in, and stood looking down at his son’s fair face, which seemed not to be twisted in pain anymore, but looked as if he rested well. The king felt Legolas’ forehead, as he had done on so many previous occaisions when the prince was injured or when he was an elfling. It was cool to the touch. “No fever,” Thranduil said with relief, and left.

Legolas blinked and looked around him at the moonlit room, trying to get his bearings. His mind was a jumble of questions about how they defeated the spiders, how he got here, and what was Aragorn doing here? Slowly reaching up, he felt his head, which still ached slightly, but felt much better. He then looked down and saw that he had a bandage running around his middle. So a spider did get me, he thought. The memories of the event were still hazy in Legolas’ mind. He searched through memories of the past day, then strained his mind to recall what had happened. He remembered falling, then… nothing. Wait. His vision came back to him. A man’s face, standing above him. Aragorn, Legolas realized. But no, he thought, he must’ve been imagining things. A sigh escaped the prince’s lips. He had wished for company, particularly that of Aragorn and the elves of Rivendell. Legolas’ vision strayed to the other side of the room. A dark bundle lay there. It was a dark quiver and pack. Aragorn’s. The elf smiled, and sleep took him soon after, to stray in the light and mysterious wandering dreams of the fair folk.

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Thanks for reading, and please review! Of course, there will be more to come shortly, as soon as I have the time for it.