Shadow of Mirkwood

War of hearts

Yet sometimes being strong wasn't about weathering storms alone. Sometimes being strong was admitting you needed someone

As the prince and general approached the mountains, an uneasy tension filled the air. Lytharial's mind swirled with thoughts of Legolas's accidental touch by the river, the lingering warmth, and the unsettling reality of Kili's condition.

She mentally slapped herself; she almost forgot about Kili! Her concern for the wounded dwarf weighed on her mind.

Suddenly, Legolas brought the horse to a halt, a furrow forming on his brow. Lytharial looked at him inquisitively, sensing that something wasn't right.

      "Legolas?" she questioned.

       "Something's wrong," he replied, attempting to coax the horse forward. 

However, the steed resisted ears laid back, and took a few steps back. The reluctance of the usually obedient creature heightened the tension in the air.

Birds disrupted the otherwise still surroundings, flying hurriedly across the trees, creating a cacophony of sounds. The forest seemed to come alive with an eerie energy. Faint voices echoed through the air, as if there were thousands of them murmuring in the distance, adding to the unsettling atmosphere. Lytharial's instincts kicked in, and she tightened her grip on Legolas, ready for whatever challenges awaited them in the looming shadows of the Misty Mountains.

As the horse refused to move forward, Legolas glanced around, scanning the surroundings with keen elven eyes. The forest, once serene, now seemed to hold secrets and concealed threats. Lytharial could feel the tension in the air, a prelude to an impending danger.

     "Legolas?" she called out again, her voice betraying a mix of curiosity and concern.

He remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the dense woods ahead. The birds continued their chaotic flight, their wings creating a symphony of hurried beats. The voices, though distant, lingered, forming an unsettling chorus that echoed through the trees.

Sensing something ominous, Legolas dismounted from the horse and motioned for Lytharial to do the same. The horse, unsettled by the strange aura, nervously shifted on its hooves. Legolas, ever vigilant, drew his twin blades, the glint of the elven steel reflecting the muted light filtering through the trees.

    "Stay close," Legolas advised, his voice carrying a weight of experience. 

Lytharial nodded, unsheathing her weapons.

They ventured cautiously into the forest, the underbrush crackling beneath their feet. The trees seemed to whisper secrets, and shadows danced in the corners of their vision. The air became thick with anticipation as they pressed forward.

As they advanced, the voices grew louder, forming a discordant chorus that sent shivers down Lytharial's spine. The landscape began to change subtly – the vibrant hues of the foliage transformed into deeper, more ominous shades. The Misty Mountains, usually stoic and awe-inspiring, now loomed ahead with an intimidating presence.

Legolas halted abruptly, his senses alert to a hidden danger. Lytharial followed his gaze, her eyes widening at the sight that unfolded before them. Figures, dark and foreboding, moved stealthily through the shadows. Orcs. An army of them, preparing for an unseen assault.

       "We've walked into a trap," Legolas muttered, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. 

Lytharial felt a knot tighten in her stomach – the danger was real.

The scene unfolded before them, a vast canvas painted in the hues of war. Lytharial's eyes scanned the field, taking in the surreal alliance of races that stood united against a common threat. Dwarves, elves, and orcs clashed in a chaotic battle symphony, each faction driven by its motives.