Chapter 7:  problems along the way

At the signal from Galadhion, Glorfindel ducked low on the branch where he was crouching next to the Troop Commander. He had not seen or sensed anything that could warrant this action, yet he was no fool to ignore a warning.

Galadhion and his men were at home here and Glorfindel had more then once been reminded how attuned the wood elves were with their surroundings. For two days now they had been out here hunting spiders.

It wasn't that Glorfindel couldn't hear the Song from all around him, but the wood elves seemed to have a unique connection with the trees of their homeland. Although the trees supported and even welcomed the Vanya elf in their midst, it was not the same.

Galadhion and his warriors moved over the branches as if striding along broad walkways never looking where they had to set their feet and ever confident that the branches would aid them and move in the direction they wanted to pass.

This was foreign to Glorfindel. Of course, he was used to moving in the trees, but not to this extent. He had the impression that once the warriors had taken to the trees they had not returned to the ground in the last two days.

He did his best to keep up with the fleet footed warriors, even suffering the smirks at his expense when he needed a hand or a steadying arm to reach the branch he had not even noticed was there just a moment before.

For two days now they had hunted spiders. They had captured four of the foul beasts, collecting spider poison. Glorfindel could still smell the foul odour of these hairy beasts. They stank horribly while alive, but once dead their stench was nearly impossible to bear.

Galadhion, however, was not yet satisfied. To fulfil another request from the palace healer he was heading for a particular colony of great spiders further south in the forest. It was there that the feared red species dwelt; not as big as their black relations, they were nonetheless deadlier.

Quick and competent help was needed once a victim was afflicted by their poison. Thornil was assuming that it was the poison from this species which was the missing ingredient of the new deadly toxin.

Glorfindel narrowed his eyes after he had followed Galadhion's signal.

“The colony is not far ahead. Look at the bark and be mindful of the webbing,” Galadhion whispered next to him and Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. Could the son of Thranduil read his mind?

Galadhion only smiled at the surprised look in the Balrog Slayer’s eyes.

“No, I cannot, my Lord, yet your expression reveals much.”

Glorfindel accepted the explanation with a nod of his head. He had been a warrior much longer then all the warriors following Galadhion and he had encountered spiders more then once. Yet it was one matter to defend against a suddenly appearing foe and another matter entirely to hunt and confront the spiders purposefully.

Carefully he looked at the marks Galadhion had indicated. Indeed the bark of the trees all around him showed damage; some partially or completely ripped from the tree trunks, others hanging in shreds.

While climbing up the trees the spiders harmed the trees with their spiny legs sometimes to the extent that the trees died ripped of their protection from the elements.

Yet much more then this damage the trees suffered from another affliction the spiders brought: the webbing. Massive strands of sticky threads hung from tree to tree suffocating them and obscuring the life-giving light.

While an adult could, with difficulty, break free when caught, an animal or an elfling had no chance once entangled in a web.

Even if the spiders hunted their prey by directly attacking them, they also used this more malicious means to ensnare whatever was careless enough to walk among these trees without the necessary caution.

Glorfindel narrowed his eyes when he carefully touched a thick stand of webbing just to his right. The webbing stuck to his glove with a ferocity he had not expected. Disgusted he removed his hand with a determined tug.

Galadhion watched the scene with a grim expression. Glorfindel was an experienced warrior and he had no need to explain more. A sudden sharp whistle brought both elves' attentions back to the task at hand.

Many spiders were suddenly swarming the trees and they were coming closer alarmingly fast. Glorfindel was not sure what could have alerted them, yet there was no time to ponder this now.

Since this species was much smaller than their black comrades, they moved with greater agility through the trees. They sprang from branch to branch or used their webbing as pathways. Again Glorfindel was astounded how they always knew which strands were not sticky.

In no time Glorfindel had notched an arrow and, like the other warriors, fired one after another at their hairy foes. Sometimes more than one arrow was needed to bring them down. The bodies gave a sickening thud when they crashed to the ground.

Glorfindel concentrated on bringing down as many spiders as possible, yet the scene had from one moment to the other changed into a chaotic flurry he had not expected. The hissing and screeching of the spiders was so loud that he could no longer distinguish the orders Galadhion was giving from time to time.

It was much different from fighting orcs. Those fights were also noisy and confusing, yet you had always solid ground beneath your feet and the elves took advantage of every cover nature presented to them. Here, high in the trees, you also had to look and find a good spot to stand, fight and shoot. The wood elves seemed to have no problem with this concept, but they did it every day whereas Glorfindel had to first get used to this new style of fighting.

A shout reminded him that there was another direction he had to consider. Quickly he looked above and saw a spider scrambling toward him. The beast was much too near to allow use of his bow, so he slung it over his back and drew his sword.

With a wary glance he briefly looked at the branch he was standing on. It was already bending precariously under his weight. He was not sure if the limb would suffer the additional weight of the spider. For the final descent onto the branch, the spider was using a strand it was just producing.

Glorfindel raised his sword yet he was not given a chance to use it. Another weight was landing on the branch behind his back and now it was no longer possible for the tree to accommodate the load. With a loud crack the limb broke and the warrior together with the spiders tumbled to the ground.

…………………………….

Elrond looked up at hearing a resigned sigh coming from Thornil who was sitting opposite him at the huge work table. The palace healer had just finished another series of tests and the exclamation needed no further comment. Again the antidote was not working.

After setting down the jar he had been stirring, Thornil massaged his temples and closed his eyes briefly.

Three more negative results had now been added to their failures list. Elrond waited patiently for his colleague to voice his thoughts.

“This was the poison of the last species I had in my stocks, but again, the antidote is not working. Now we have to wait to find out if the Troop Commander is successful.”

Elrond knew all too well how Thornil must be feeling. He had experienced this feeling for many months now. Never before had his knowledge failed him to a degree that he was not able to find at least a relief if not a cure. That his colleague was as unsuccessful as he was no comfort to him.

Knowing that the Crown Prince was out there hunting for spider venom that they needed for further experiments did not bring ease to his heart. Normally the wood elves avoided any contact with the red spiders; their poison was too potent and therefore healing was not a guarantee.

They had not found a cure with the poisons of the four other spider-species in Mirkwood. He hoped that this more dangerous breed would carry the poison that would lead Thornil and himself to discover a working antidote.

So the healers could do no more then wait and hope that the hunting party would be successful and return home unscathed. Not for the first time on this day Elrond looked out the small window facing south. Even though he knew Glorfindel was a marvellous warrior he held no small amount of worry for his friend knowing that a spider hunt was new even for the experienced Balrog Slayer.

What if one member of the party was attacked and stung by a spider and was too far away from the palace to receive aid? What if the orcs had already brought the deadly poison over the mountains and waited for their chance to use it on the wood elves. Both healers would be powerless to save a possible victim.

Elrond sighed frustrated, yet before he could entertain these dark thoughts any further the door to the working room opened. Expecting the King inquiring after their progress Elrond raised an eyebrow at seeing the youngest prince pattering into the room.

Looking around carefully the young elf kept standing just inside the door obviously not so sure anymore how to proceed. Quickly closing the jar he had just opened Thornil rose and walked over to crouch before the elfling.

“Legolas, you know you are not allowed to enter this room alone,” he admonished gently. However the big eyes of the elfling never left the interesting items strewn all over the table he was barely tall enough to look at.

“But I’m not alone in here,” Legolas argued and Elrond had to hide a smile at the grimace on Thornil´s face. Children were all the same. That could have been an answer from his young daughter.

He had only met Thranduil´s youngest son a few hours before and had been instantly entranced by the bright and inquisitive elfling. This one knew exactly how to wind the adults around his finger.

Before Thornil had a chance to grab the little elf, Legolas ran around him and scrambled onto a chair in front of the table. Before either Elrond or Thornil could react Legolas had grabbed a sharp knife the healers had used to slice the stems of some of the plants.

“Legolas, no!”

The sharp command startled the elfling. In his fright he leaned backwards, but since the work chairs had no backs, he tumbled to the ground head-over-heels.

In Elrond's mind he was already seeing the elfling impaled on the knife soiled with spider poison. He paled while hastening forward to kneel next to the motionless boy.

Just as he reached out a hand the elfling came up to his knees and looked at him with eyes already filling with tears.

While Thornil quickly retrieved the knife, which had fallen from the elfling´s grasp, Elrond made a quick examination to confirm that the tears were only stemming from shock and not any injury.

He relieved his colleague of his anguish with a shake of his head and opened his arms. Readily the fair haired boy followed the invitation, crawling into the haven offered by Elrond's arms. “Shhh, do not cry,” Elrond whispered while rubbing the child’s back. “Nothing happened, it’s alright.”

After a while the elfling looked up and while still in the arms of the dark haired elf he looked carefully at the palace healer.

“You will not tell, Ada, will you?” he asked in a hushed tone all the while directing hopeful eyes at the stern looking healer. “Ada would be mad at me!”

Still fixing the child with his gaze Thornil took a slow and deep breath.

“No, I think not,” he answered his voice still strained. Elrond knew that it was from the fright not anger, yet the boy did not.

Carefully Legolas turned and directed the same pleading eyes at the healer from Imladris. Elrond was hard pressed to keep his face impassive.

“I think that can be arranged, yet you have to promise never to come in here again without permission,” Elrond said and when the boy nodded he echoed his colleagues sigh knowing how short lived such promises usually were.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Legolas asked and Elrond hid again a smile. All trouble already forgotten the boy had returned to his cheerful self.

“Nothing interesting for young elflings and now I’m pretty sure you should be playing elsewhere, young man,” Thornil answered quickly and caught the boy before he could climb the chair again.

“Namarie,” Legolas ground out between shrieks. Thornil had thrown him over his shoulder and was tickling him.

“Namarie Legolas,” Elrond answered and waved until Thornil had closed the door.

Shaking his head the healer of Imladris walked back to the window hoping that the hunting party would arrive back home soon.

To be continued……………………………