The Ghost Warrior [Legolas Fan Fic]

Chapter Eight

Hey everyone. I am truly sorry that this has taken so long to write, but school started back up again a few weeks ago, so my life has been taken over by it. Luckily, I had a four day weekend and I was able to write up this chapter. Thank you for sticking with me; this is definitely going to go slower until I have more free time on my hands, but for now enjoy this chapter.

Also, Dûrion means Dark One... you'll understand more when you read this.

Glorfindel hadn't been this angry in a long time.

~Well, maybe angry isn't the right word for it.

Hmm...

Livid.

Now that's the right word. Let's retry this, shall we?~

Glorfindel was livid, seething with a barely retained rage that was just waiting to burst from within.

~Much better.~

As the trees blurred past him, Glorfindel's mind was only focused on the elf, a hunter relentlessly stalking his prey. He would never stop until he caught this elf, even if it was the last thing he did.

Luckily for him and his men, their prey was leaving quite the trail behind, clearly not bothering to try and hide his tracks. And rightfully so. This elf had cause to be terrified for his life. After all, he attempted to murder the Prince of Mirkwood, and even now they had no way of knowing if he yet lived.

And for that reason, Glorfindel and his men would not cease their chase until they had captured this elf and received the information they so badly desired.

It didn't end up taking very long in the end to catch up to the elf.

The trees, who all adored Prince Legolas dearly, had heard word of what had happened to the little elfling, and as the information was rapidly passed down from the trees and animals, they attempted to stop the fleeing elf.

The oaks, pines, and all other trees did whatever they could muster up to slow down the elf at the very least. Some raised their roots from the forest floor, tripping up the elf's steps, slowing him down. Some trees even went as far as to hurl down their branches, hoping that one would squash the elf, or at least harm him in some way. Even the animals found glee in antagonizing him.

Squirrels chucked acorns at the elf, grimly pleased when they smacked him in the face. The birds swooped down, pecking, prodding, and pulling at the elf's clothes and hair. Every lifeform within the forest did what they could to stop this elf, for their beloved elfling was dying and they did not wish to see him gone so soon.

Eventually, it was a young sapling that finally did the trick in halting the fleeing elf. As the tree saw the form come barreling towards it in the distance, the sapling began to swing back its long, thin branches, ready for attack. When the elf was just rushing by the sapling, it swung forward its branches as hard as it could, letting the wind help force them forward.

Though the tree was still just a young sapling, it was in no way small or delicate. No, this little one was just a bit taller than a full grown male elf, and its branches were about as thick as a spear.

So when the force of its branches came forward, they nailed the elf right in his face, sending him flying back towards the forest floor. The impact of the branches left the elf in a heap on the ground, his mind spinning in circles, quickly becoming disoriented and dizzy.