A Nightingale's Song

Fool

Reassured of his good intentions by the dancing at the feast, the Dύnedain of the North now welcomed Legolas with open arms. He himself also grew more comfortable with his surroundings, and joined in on many of the populace's events. He often went on patrols with the rangers, and though he would occasionally hunt with them, the activity was one thing he preferred to do alone.

On the morning of the eighth day that Legolas had been in the village, Caranorel approached him.

"Legolas! Greetings!"

"Hello Caranorel, how may I be of assistance?" Legolas replied politely.

"Yes, well... It has been a few days since your last hunt, and our rangers aren't bringing back enough food to support us, so I was hoping that you may be able to hunt today, if you are not otherwise occupied."

"Of course, I was planning on doing so anyway."

"Thank you."

Legolas left the village with Dimaethor a few hours before midday, riding hard towards the forest where he had caught the deer on that first day.

He arrived not long after sundown, and after dismounting and farewelling Dimaethor, Legolas began the hunt. It took much longer for him to find and locate an animal, and even then, it only seemed to be a small rabbit. Something was off about the woods, something Legolas could not place, and it was making him increasingly wary.

He made his way slowly and cautiously through the undergrowth, creeping closer to the unknowing rabbit. When he was mere feet away from the animal, he nocked an arrow, and aimed.

A crack of a twig nearby broke the archer's concentration, and the shot he released flew wildly, and startled the rabbit into the bushes.

A moment later, a cold blade was pressed against Legolas' neck, its sharp edge drawing blood from his throat. A strong hand gripped the back of his neck, preventing him from moving.

"Stand up. Move slowly or I will kill you." A quiet voice commanded. Legolas internally cursed his inability to sense his attacker, and reluctantly did what the whisper commanded. The low murmur made it impossible to tell if the person was male or female, though, if the strength of the hand's grip was anything to go by, they were certainly not human. Either way, whoever it was, they were dangerous, and Legolas was in an extremely vulnerable position, so for now, he would comply.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" The unknown being whispered harshly.

"Give me your name, and I shall give you mine."

The attacker growled, before spinning the elf in a swift motion, so he was facing them. All Legolas could make out beneath the elf's (He had concluded that his attacker couldn't be anything else) hood, were a pair of dark, blue eyes.

"Answer my question, or I'll kill you." The figure pressed the knife harder against his throat, causing it to sting as the blade cut deeper into his flesh.

"Prince... Legolas..."

"Prince? What is a Prince doing in these parts?" The being scoffed.

"Release... your pressure... on the... knife... so that it does... not... pain me to... speak... as much." Legolas gasped, becoming more desperate now he knew that using his title had no effect. His breathing sped up, and he was truly becoming concerned for his life.

A flash of red caught his eye and he glanced down to see a familiar weapon strapped to the person's hip.

"That... sword... Wait! You would not... perchance be... the elleth they call... Mordes... would you?"