Disclaimer: Anything that is recognizably Tolkien’s belongs to him. Otherwise, they are my own characters/things (Luinel, Gordraug a.k.a the wolf)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The small party of mounted Elves passed silently under the sunless roof of tall dark trees, casting a pale white light on leaf covered ground. All around the air was stuffy and still, with only the breath of the horses and their riders stirring it. All the Elves were tense as the bowstrings they had slung at their backs, ready for anything that Mirkwood forest had to offer.
There were seven in the party, three guards in the front, two served as rearguards. Between these were two other Elves riding white horses. One was a fair Elven lady, dressed in plain blue raiment, adorned only by a brooch set with blue stones in the shape of an eight-pointed star. She too was armed with bow and sword, should the worst come. The other was young (by Elf standards), only one-thousand five-hundred years old, and rode behind his mother. He was armed with a bow and two knives, and, despite his age, was a remarkable fighter and archer. These two were Lady Luinel and Prince Legolas of the Woodland Realm, both part of the royal family, and both headed to Imladris.
Legolas rode silently, his mind filled with anger. Even the company of his good friends and mother, he still seethed with silent fury. Only half a day had passed since the argument with his father. He thought Legolas was incapable of going to Imladris, much less to help guard his mother. Thranduil had always thought that Legolas wasn’t ready to fight anything, though now a good few of the Elves his age were training to become part of the Forest Patrol.
These were a group of soldiers that took watch over all parts of Mirkwood, especially the southern borders, around the fortress of Dol Guldur. Legolas had heard the news of late that some great evil now dwelt in the fortress, making it risky for the Elves to do any traveling in the forest.
Legolas had only been allowed to go because of his mother’s wish to have him come. This, of course, had only made things worse because his mother had to go do the persuading for him. Now, instead of being happy that he was finally going Imladris, he was furious with both his parents.
All of a sudden the guard in front called a halt and made a gesture for Legolas and the rest of the guards to draw their bows. Legolas put an arrow to his bow but only half drew it, in case it was a false alarm.
Then, suddenly, a huge grey blur leaped smack onto the second guard’s horse, killing both horse and rider instantly. It was a wolf of tremendous proportions, about half the size of a man taller than the horses, and about three times as hideous as a normal wolf. Its patched and matted fur stank horribly, riddled with grime and dirt. Black, bloodied claws that were as thick as small tree branches ended its feet. The wolf’s horrid face was just as disgusting as the rest of it. It had colossal, yellow canine teeth that extended down past its lower jaw, both stained red on the tips from its fresh kill. But the wolf’s most revolting feature was the three scars that ran across the left side of its face. The longest scar ran straight through its left eye, which was completely white. The other was red with bloodlust.
The Elves immediately sprang into action, firing arrows at the wolf’s smelly hide. It yelped in pain, but did not weaken, throwing another guard off his horse. The foremost guard gave the signal to run and the five remaining Elves bolted back up the road; the horses only too glad to flee the presence of the monstrous wolf.
Legolas was in the rear; his horse was smaller and unable to keep pace with the others “Noro lim!” He spurred his horse onward, hearing the wolf’s pursuing feet pounding the ground behind him.
The wolf allowed a snarling smile to himself. It didn’t matter if he was blind in one eye; this was easy prey. This one was younger, weaker, and probably tastier.
All of a sudden, Legolas let out a strangled cry as pain seared his side. His horse stumbled and fell chest first on the path as the wolf leaped, sending Legolas crashing into the path, stunning him for the moment.
At her son’s cry, Luinel wheeled her horse around and drew her sword, the guards following her lead. The wolf was approaching the stunned Elf, when all of a sudden he was slashed across the muzzle. Blood flecked his vision as he thrashed his head in anguish. The others had come from his blind side, taking him completely by surprise. The one female Elf was the one who got him. She would pay dearly for her interference. The wolf yelped as three arrows found their mark in his side.
He whipped around and stuck out with a massive forepaw, flinging two Elves against the trees with a sickening crack. While the wolf busied himself chasing the last guard up the road, Luinel dismounted and ran to her son, hoping against all hope that Legolas was still alive.
“Legolas,” She said kneeling down and cradling his head in her arms. The wounds on his head and side were bleeding profusely.
Legolas’ eyelids fluttered open slightly. “Ama?” he said weakly. Luinel nearly laughed in her joy at finding her son alive, even in the condition he was in. She embraced him swiftly, forgetting all danger for a moment.
But that moment was all the wolf needed. Having killed the last guard, he had crept up unbeknownst to the pair of Elves and swiped the woman up in his massive jaws.
For a split second, Legolas lay in horror as his mother’s body hung limply from the bloody fangs of the tremendous wolf, the woman who had just been embracing him was gone to Valinor in an instant. Then, driven by adrenaline and pure hatred, he forced himself to stand.
The wolf spat the Elf’s body out of his mouth and let out a growling snigger. This was so pathetic, it was almost sad. Almost. He advanced slowly but surely towards his hapless prey.
Legolas’ entire body was afire with pain, but something far greater than his physical strength was driving him onward to pick up his bow and fit his last arrow to the string as the wolf continued to inch closer. Suddenly, he let go of the string. Instead of reaching its mark between the wolf’s eyes, the arrow imbedded itself in its blind left eye, disabling it even further.
The wolf let out a tormented yowl. He had not expected an attack from the injured Elf, much less one so painful. Legolas had now drawn his knives and was moving as fast as his wounds allowed him as the wolf recoiled in pain and, something he had not felt in an age, fear. Soon Legolas was upon him, hacking and slashing at the stinking, horrendous face.
The wolf half turned, hoping to fool his outraged opponent with a feinted retreat, but instead, Legolas lunged at him, knives biting deep into the flesh of the wolf’s side. He howled in agony as the knives raked his skin. He never expected an attack of such ferocity from Legolas, as weak and hurt as he was.
Rage had completely consumed him: the Elf’s eyes burned with a fire kindled by his one wish: to destroy the thing that killed his mother. He fought like a berserker, but the wolf was far stronger than anything that he could kill in his current state.
The wolf could take no more. All the fight was quite taken out of him. Using every last ounce of his strength, he flung Legolas off him and bolted off as fast as he could.
Legolas tumbled across the leaf strewn ground with a noisy thud, and he saw no more.