The woods were partly tainted, nothing new to anyone who lived in it; not at all.
Legolas crossed the forests nearly on a daily basis, together with Tauriel &
sometimes a few more guards to keep the borders protected. So he knew
very well what dangers lingered between the trees & within the realm’s sha-
dows, did not fear anything that may cross his path.
Together with his father, however, he rarely even went out of the castle &
such showed just too impressively when they wandered into the depth of the
darkest area, Legolas keeping his senses keenly focused on the surrounding
place as the sudden pull on his form caught him entirely off guard.
Quickly, his back collided with the trunk of a tree & widened eyes stared right
at Thranduil with mild shock. The palm to his mouth only fueled the amount of
felt irritation in that moment, the archer’s hands rose to grab the king’s wrist
in order to force his palm away from his mouth. What followed, was nothing
less than a further expression of his confusion, emitted in quiet hisses.
Perhaps he did not spend as much time in the wood as he used to, but there was still an air in the trees that could be read as easily as if he wandered them in the days of the Great Greenwood. The trees were still familiar to him, and when he closed his eyes it was as if he could feel the fëa of the land. It was a great relief to travel outside he walls of the stronghold, even if the air hung stale underneath dark canopies.
Alert to his surrounding, Thranduil stepped with a light foot and a certain owned elegance, as if each root and stone was ingrained into his memory. He said nothing about the growing gloom until he felt as if something were... squirming in it. Thranduil stopped only briefly to scan his eyes along the edges of the trees, displeased to see nothing in his line of sight. It ate at him. Feeling as if he were being stared down and not being able to see an attacker.
He became acutely aware of the breath of his son, normally silent to most ears, it seemed overbearingly loud. The moment that Thranduil was able to discern that the breathing was not Legolas’ and indeed happening in time with his son’s, a worry fell over him. It was not until he realized that there was a faint echo in the younger elf’s footstep that he pressed Legolas to a tree and covered his lips, listening. Whatever had been following them walked only when Legolas took a step, and drew breath only when his little leaf had done the same. Whatever fell creature haunted them, it made him incredibly uneasy.
“Hush,” he whispered softly, almost daring not to. He held his breath, willing Legolas to do the same and listen. “We are not alone.”
