Aeonian [Legolas]

19

They came in with a grace that could only be described as practiced. All of them, a perfect unit of soldiers, bows drawn with arrows latched perfectly, braided hair clean and pristine against the sick of the forest and the disgruntled Dwarves that now stood surrounded in the middle of the forest opening. They couldn't do anything but watch, dumbfounded as the Elves slayed the lingering spiders with an ease so graceful it looked rehearsed.

Above them, Viridis pressed himself to the trunk of the tree he was in, kneeling silently and pressing his fingertips into the comrade wood below him to ground himself at such an impossible height.

The Elves finished the work the Dwarves could not in half the time, killing the spiders in swift motions that looked so easy that none of them struggled. The power of one united unit was strong and intimidating but it got the job done and once all the spiders in the area were handled, the Elvish warriors turned their attention back to the Dwarves, arrow tips pointing toward the company instead of monsters.

One Elf, in particular, landed in front of Thorin, latching a fresh new arrow in the hold of his bow and leveling it at the leader's neck. Viridis felt his breath catch; balance wavered as he caught sight of the blond Elf Prince. 

"Do not think I won't kill you Dwarf." Legolas Greenleaf said, blue eyes piercing against the misty rays of light that seemed to find him in even the darkest part of wood. "It would be my pleasure."

Thorin grumbled in resignation, refusing to break eye contact and holding firm, establishing his strength though Viridis knew it was falling through his fingertips in broken fragments.

Legolas paused for a moment then reached some sort of decision. Stowing away his bow, he spoke not to the leader but to his own company. "Search them."

The Elves followed the command fluidly, stowing their own bows and advancing with a grace that mimicked their unmatched superiority.

Viridis caught Thorin's gaze dare upward, a flash and only for a moment. Viridis shook his head slowly, hoping Thorin would be smart enough to realize that there was no escaping this one.

He himself would wait, trailing behind and only entering if the scene became too unpredictable- that was too say: too dangerous. To enter now would only get one of them killed. 

Legolas turned, back facing the company as his gaze met Tauriel's. A redhead Elf with even more vivid strands than Viridis himself. "Are the spiders dead?" He spoke in Elvish, a language the Elf hiding in the trees hadn't heard spoken from another of his kin in many years.

"Yes, but more will come." Tauriel replied, and then softer, "They're growing bolder."

Pursed lips found their way onto the Prince's lips as he regarded Tauriel, seemingly fighting an inner battle within his mind. He waited a moment more before resigning himself, gaze flickering to the tree canopy like he was searching for something. They passed Viridis slowly and the amber-haired Elf held his breath, not denying himself the actions of gazing back though it was unrequitedly matched.

Legolas' gaze was interrupted by one of his soldiers calling his name. Something flashed across the blond's face. Resigned hope? A stubborn inclination? But then he was looking away, frowning when a blade was bestowed upon him. Thorin's blade. The one from the Troll cave.

Knuckles turned white as Viridis dared gaze down at the unfolding scene. Clenching his jaw as Legolas peered down at the blade.

"This is an ancient Elvish blade." He said in the common tongue, holding it up to the light. "Forged by my kin." His gaze settled on Thorin with a new coldness in his eyes. "Where did you get this?" He asked, switching tongues.