Waiting usually never bothered an immortal, but at this moment Legolas was quite annoyed at his situation.
There stood him and his four companions from Eryn Lasgalen staring out into the grassy fields awaiting their enemy to give away their position.
The wind had now shifted, confirming with a foul stench that their advisories were indeed orcs.
The high grasses shifted and moved creating a sea of green giving no indication of where this enemy might attack from exactly. The potential of their enemy gaining the upper hand was high since the tops of the grass came up high on the horses, obscuring the evil approaching.
Still silence, and Legolas' arm began to shake from the strain of holding his bow drawn the entire time. Not a word was spoken between them. Barely even a glance could be afforded in this predicament they had themselves trapped in. Legolas studied the field down the shaft of his arrow, it's deadly tip pointing out into the obscure field.
Orcs were stupid, every creature on Middle-Earth knew that, and the Prince's mind kept going over possibilities that would explain why their foe was waiting so long to strike.
'Perhaps they are napping in the tall grass and have not heard out approach.' His mind seemed logical with that idea. Another one came to him, 'They could be unarmed and unwilling to fight, or they might know they've got no chance of succeeding.' Less likely, but still a good notion.
He heard whispering, loud enough for only an Elf to hear, "What shall we do, my King?"
Sorrow enveloped him and his mind raced, thoughts in his mind kept referring to himself as Prince and here these warriors were referring to him as King. Never would he be able to hear that word and not glance around searching for his father.
Ai, how he wished his father were here.
Legolas began formulating an answer.
Ping!
Almost soundlessly, an arrow streaked out of the grasses and sank right into the throat of the questioning Elf. A chance to react was even denied the poor soul as he fell from his horse with a thud onto the soft ground below.
Able to track where the arrow originated, Legolas returned one, hearing another sickening fall confirming that single orc's location.
No more noise followed and again, they found themselves in this frustrating standoff.
"We cannot remain here, Sire, for we are out in the open atop horses. We are perfect target practice for them."
Agreeing, Legolas swiftly went into action. "The trees ahead border into our homeland. If we make a break we can reach the tree-line and once in the forest, we can perch in the trees and they will not be able to track us."
Another shot, straight into the chest of yet another of Legolas' Elves. Turion returned fire with quick reflexes and true aim.
"Run for the trees!" Legolas cried. The three Elves who remained spurred their horses on with stressed words. The two rider-less horses maintained their connection with the group, keeping up with the others.
Then arrows rained down upon them from all along the path to safety.
"Don't stop! Keep going!" Legolas was in the rear of the group, ready to grab onto any Elf that might fall.
The trees were a blurry sight on the horizon with panic overtaking the horses' usual grace and smoothness causing a bumpy ride.
The cries of orcs finally pierced the veil of silence that had cursed this confrontation. A few that were unlucky enough to have their location betrayed either by sight, sound or the telling movements of the grass were met with elvish arrows. The Elves did not pause at all in order to retaliate against their attackers.
Closer and closer the trees came and they could almost feel the coolness of the shade beneath wide leaves of sturdy trees.
Aiming at an orc dangerously close to their position, Legolas barely realized what had happened when his horse cried out and the ground come up quickly to meet him.
As gracefully as possible, Legolas turned in the fall and looked back to see his friend, his horse with an arrow protruding from his front thigh. It was buried deep into the muscle of the poor creature.
Turion saw Legolas' fall and turned from the shelter ahead, the others stopped as well.
"No, continue into the woods and gain elevation in order to support us!"
Despite their will to help their new King, they obeyed their captain and turned back towards the haven that would gain them strict advantage.
Legolas heard the cries from beyond the grass, the cheers of victory from the dark beings at having brought one of their prey down to their level. Converging on his point, the orcs would find a single Elf easily slaughtered with their superior numbers and lack of open ground needed for the effective use of bow.
Notching an arrow, Legolas demonstrated the patience all elves possessed and simply waited for the first in a numerous series of targets to present itself.
Seeing a speck of black in a sea of green and brown, the Elf fired and, faster than any mortal could, grabbed another arrow and readied it. In only a few moments, his arrow supply was dwindling. Choices were becoming few, either strike with his knives or try to join up with the others.
As he aimed his last arrow, Turion was approaching. He could see what Legolas could not. He could see the orc that had slipped behind Legolas, aiming its black arrow for his back.
Turion reached back to his quiver and grabbed nothing but air.
"Legolas!"
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