Canines and Arachnids

The trio consisting of two elves and one wolf had been moving for some time through dense trees towards the source of the scream when an elf dropped into their path, silvery hair in disarray and eyes flashing with ire. He didn’t bother to introduce himself as the other elves knew him well.

“It’s been rumored that you were due to show up in Lothlórien,” Haldir said quickly, never one to hash words. “But what is that thing with you?”

Elrond met him with stiff shoulders, a little annoyed to see that the silvery blond had an arrow ready and didn’t appear above striking down his son. “It’s a long story,” he said honestly. “Suffice it to say that he’s mine.” He decided to pull Haldir down a peg or two. “We’re in Lothlórien on invitation. Our path is angled in the direction that we heard one of your brothers cry out.”

Haldir pinked a little at the unspoken insult. *You don’t know what’s going on in your own realm and you and your brothers are incapable of defending themselves.*

Huffing indignantly, Haldir stomped over to one of the free black steeds and mounted, leading the way out from the group while the other two elves and wolf followed. The March Warden spotted the returning group about the same time that Elladan did, and the wolf had no time to warn his father of what he could make out through the gloom. With a single sure movement, Haldir raised his bow, notched an arrow and loosed a round. There was a pained thud as the shot made contact with its target. Elrond was upon him an instant later, grappling with him for his bow.

“Hold your fire!” the elf lord roared. “They’re with me!”

“Aye, we are,” Legolas said, still holding a squirming Orophin over his shoulder. He tossed the silver elf to the dirt and fingered the arrow jutting out from his chest. Legolas ripped the projectile free and tossed it idly back to Haldir, amused by the mounting horror on the faces of the three silver elves as the wound eased shut seemingly of its own accord. “Why do they always go for me?”

“You’re more visible than I am,” Elrohir rumbled, dropping Rúmil in his brother’s lap. Haldir just stared at them, jaw working numbly.

“You travel with those abominations?” Haldir asked, sounded disgusted. “I wouldn’t use one of them to wipe warg droppings off my boots!”

Standing straight, Legolas reverted to elfin form and offered to shake hands, ignoring his nudity and the shock radiating from his new audience. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Prince Legolas of Mirkwood.”

Elrohir mimicked him on his right, looking very smug. “Pleasure to meet you. I am Lord Elrohir of Imladris.” He gestured to the black wolf that had wandered over to his side. “And this is my elder brother, Lord Elladan.”

Had they not been seated, Rúmil and Orophin might very well have fallen over like their oldest brother, Haldir, almost did.

Haldir exploded. “By Mordor’s depths! What happened to you three?”

“Mordor’s depths, I imagine,” Legolas answered coyly. Giving him a harsh look, Elrond answered properly.

“A new type of warrior has been created that can propagate its numbers through physical contact. Close as we can tell, Legolas encountered their prototype.”

“Upon which time I infected Elrohir unknowingly,” Legolas said, shrugging. “The two of us only recently inflicted this upon Elladan.”

“You mean that this is contagious?” Haldir cried, dropping the bloody arrow in his hands and scrubbing his fingers on his leggings.

“Only initially,” Legolas said, shrugging one shoulder. Elrohir took pity on the worried silver elves.

“You’re in no danger from contracting this from any of us,” he said. “It would take an extreme effort on our part to spread this to anyone else.”

“Effort as in what?” Haldir asked, clearly not willing to be put off so easily. He sounded as though he was working himself up. “Shaking a hand? Getting blood on me? Legolas infected Elrohir and Elladan easily enough.”

“It would take more than that,” Elrond said, trying to calm the obviously upset elf.

“Like what?” Haldir asked, staring worriedly at the werewolves.

“He’d have to shove your face in the ground and shank you until you begged to be his fair bride,” Glorfindel spoke up for the first time. With the comment, he reflexively swept one hand across the back of his neck, relieved to still find only clear skin. He was beginning to harbor the idea that he had escaped from his unexpected intimate night with Legolas unscathed.

Haldir’s expression flickered to accommodate his mind. His lips pursed at the crude commentary before a smirk appeared on his face. His eyes flickered over the three werewolves. “Really?” he drawled.

“Actually,” Elrond said firmly, giving Glorfindel a dirty look, “We came to Lothlórien to confirm that.”

“Confirm that your sons and Mirkwood’s prince are perverts or that the disease is transmitted through intercourse, which would still show them to be guilty of the perverse act,” Haldir smirked.

*What a jerk,* Elrohir said, silver eyes narrowing.

*Lets get him,* Legolas answered.

“Everyone knows we’re together. As for the other part, we hardly need the Lady of the Golden Wood to confirm this,” Elrohir growled. “You’ll do.” He moved forward, slipping his hands around Haldir’s waist, pulling the March Warden flush with himself and grinning wolfishly. Green eyes became absolutely huge as the poor pinned Lothlórien elf tried to escape. As suddenly as the assault had started, it was over, Elrohir untangling his arms and stepping by the silver elf. Chuckling, he shifted to a wolf, jogging out into the darkness once more.

“Make camp here. We’ll be back with dinner,” Legolas said as he shifted. Elladan ran after them, not willing to undergo the added scrutiny of the Lothlórien elves.

“Is that entirely safe? Letting them near the food?” Rúmil asked while Haldir was still speechless.

“It’s worked well for the last week,” Glorfindel said, shrugging one shoulder. “They won’t use their mouths to bring their prey down and we get the dubious honor of cleaning whatever it is they bring back.”

For some time, silence reigned, broken by the youngest of the three brothers by a thought that nearly had every listener gag on his drink.

“So, a new master weapon from Mordor has fallen into our laps,” Orophin mused.

“You don’t think this is a trick as the rings were?” Glorfindel said, eyes darkening.

“I’m just saying that it’s possible,” Orophin defended. “Think about it. Three prominent members of society, already respected warriors, twisted against their will. They have access to anywhere they wish to travel in Middle Earth and their plight will garner pity and stay suspicious minds. The Ring Wraiths are too easy to identify and too well known to move unseen through more guarded regions. Sauron may be using this as a means to invade the elfin lands.”

“I had not considered that,” Elrond said, countenance becoming grim. “We will naturally investigate this further. I cannot allow a weapon of Sauron to freely wander Middle Earth, nor can I condemn three innocents put upon by his black arts.”

“Lady Galadriel will be able to tell us for certain,” Haldir offered by means of apology for both his and his brothers’ behavior.

They waited in silence for the wolves to return, Glorfindel almost obsessively running his hands along his neck or tongue along his teeth. The Lothlórien elves noticing that he was getting strange looks from the Lothlórien elves, Elrond shook his head a little, telling them to drop it. Remembering the blonde’s entry into the earlier conversation, Haldir caught Elrond’s eyes, flicked his gaze to the seneschal and then jerked his head minimally towards the surrounding woods. Elrond nodded tersely. All three brothers smirked.

* * *

Elladan sat speechless in a state of shock. He had been left just outside of the makeshift camp, too tired to hunt with his peers but disliking the condemning gazes of the Lothlórien elves.

*Tainted by Sauron’s hand,* he said to himself. *No better than the Nazgûl. Was it not enough to condemn our kind to become orcs and uruk-hai? Are we now worth no more than animals?*

Groaning, he slumped to the earth, absolutely miserable. He didn’t want to live a tainted life, a creature of darkness and misery. Questions flitted through his mind endlessly. Would he hurt his family, his friends? Would he ever be able to have a normal family? What if he killed someone? Desolate and alone, he slumped to the sandy earth, instinctively shoving himself under a shrub. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to be overlooked. And most of all, he wanted to die. How could a foul creature of Sauron control his fate? Only by freeing himself could he be safe from the twisted plots of the corrupted wizard. He fought against his body’s natural resilience while pulling in on himself. He wanted only to be free. To be loyal to the elves and the trees.

* * *

Legolas skidded to a halt mid lunge, letting the wild boar he was chasing escape. Beside him, Elrohir had similarly gone still, silver eyes narrow.

*Something is wrong,* Elrohir said.

*I can sense it too,* Legolas concurred. *We should go back.*

Nodding in agreement, the black werewolf started a steady lope in the direction they had come from. The chase had taken them off to the side of the main camp from where they started and they returned at a slightly different angle, missing Elladan by several yards, the upset werewolf not noticing their passing. When they burst into camp, the three March Wardens automatically leapt to their feet and went for their weapons, dropping their hands when they recognized the duo. More used to the two wolves,ond ond and Glorfindel just raised their heads in greeting. Reverting quickly, they advanced on the five elves, ignoring the fact they were in their birthday suits.

“Where’s Elladan?” Elrohir asked without preamble.

“We thought he went with you,” Haldir said.

“Nay,” Legolas denied. “He was too tired to come.”

Elrohir cursed rabidly in every language he knew. “Split up. Find him,” he snapped. No one objected to his taking command or the harshness of his tone, understanding that he was simply worried for his brother.

The five elves and two wolves broke apart and started out to the night, looking for the missing member of their party. The March Wardens, familiar with the area and skilled in tracking, started in the last direction they had seen Elladan. Dropping into lupine forms to make better use of their sense of smell, the two werewolves were on the same path. For lack of anything better to do, the remaining elves followed them.

To make sure they didn’t bypass him, they fanned out peering into the blackness in search of an equally black form. Rúmil located the still form within the first few yards of their camp, mostly by virtue of stepping on him. Pulling back before he put much pressure on the black wolf, hlledlled him out of the bushes and gingerly picked him up, uneasy despite Elrond’s reassurances.

“I have him!” Rúmil called. He found himself abruptly lacking the furry form in his arms as Legolas and Elrohir rushed him, taking the still body away from him.

“Is he hurt?” Legolas demanded, helping carry him back towards the fire. He couldn’t see any wounds or smell blood, but he wasn’t ruling out the possibility of injury yet.

“I don’t think so,” Elrohir said, sitting down quickly and pulling his brother into his lap. Eyes glazing over slightly, he ran along the link they shared as twins, probing his brother’s mind. He sucked a sharp breath at the muted feeling returned to him. “By Elbereth! He’s fading!”

“That’s impossible,” Legolas said. “He was fine fifteen minutes ago. What could possibly have happened to him in so short a time?”

“He heard us,” Haldir muttered, speaking to his brothers. He hadn’t meant to be overheard, not knowing of the werewolves’ sharp hearing. Legolas exploded.

“What in Mordor did you do?” he bellowed, turning his anger on the silver elves of Lothlórien. He advanced on the three brothers with intent to do violence.

“It was only idle speculation,” Elrond intercepted, cutting of the blond before he got any further in his rampage.

“Over what?” His voice was dangerously cold. He sounded like he was trying to reign in his temper and was barely succeeding. Elrond hesitated before answering, only doing so because he knew that his silence was making the blond angrier.

“The possibility that your affliction stems from Sauron’s hand,” Elrond said weakly.

“Are you insane?” Elrohir snapped, entering the argument. “You told me yourself that you’ve seen such things before in the race of men.” Elrond blinked, suddenly feeling extremely stupid. “It’s only natural that the symptoms would alter when the element of elfin blood was introduced to the equation.”

Cursing them as he went, Legolas stalked back to the entangled twins, curling up beside them and wrapping his arms around the pair. Elrond tried to tend his ailing son, but the two werewolves holding him growled menacingly and pushed him away.

“You’ve done enough. We’ll help him,”olasolas said.

The healer hesitated but yanked his hands away quickly when the blond bared fangs at him with the threat of using them. Accepting that he’d have to trust his son’s life to the archer, he moved a few paces back. The danger of being mauled by the blond over, the three silver elves turned on the raven healer in irritation.

“What does he mean that you’ve seen this before?” Orophin asked a bit heatedly. “You could have said something and prevented this!”

“You’re the one that came up with the notion!” Elrond retorted angrily.

“You’re the one that should have known better!” Rúmil stormed, quick to defend his younger brother.

“How can you still support his asinine suggestion?” Elrond yelled.

Their childish argument might have continued had they not been interrupted. Crying out in distress, Glorfindel lunged for the tangle of werewolves.

To Be Continued…
Okay. Wild liberties begin in the next section. And I’m talking about serious liberties here. Anyone who doesn’t like it, this is your last chance to escape. R&R!