On the king's command

The finding of Bard

It was already dark outside, but the king of elves was still out on his elk, searching for a certain man that had fled from his halls. Usually, his elves found everyone that hid in the forest, but Bard must have vanished into thin air and disappeared, because he was simply gone. They had looked everywhere, he had even crossed the river to search on its other side, but nothing. Where could he be? 

Actually, there was one place he hadn't looked at yet, but why should the man have went there? It would be foolish, and he knew Bard was not a foolish man. But it was worth a try, a dangerous one, but still. Normally he would have taken both Tauriel and Legolas with him, because no elf went to this place without a proper guard, but there was no time for it now. He drove on Emeralda, and they galloped through the forest.

It was quiet in the hunting ground of the spider. Faroth Gorthob she was called by his people, the horrible hunter. But the name and topic were equally avoided, and the only sentence that would arise in the halls of Thranduil from time to time was: Faron has struck again. Then quiet murmurs would be heard among the elves: Who was it this time? And then the topic would be abandoned and never spoken about again. Because the truth was, that nobody could conquer Faroth Gorthob. 

The elves appointed to be spider hunters, were well trained and very skillful. With their protection, the forest was held mostly free of beasts and foul creatures, and they had one of the best reputations of all elven professions in the Woodland Realm. But this certain spider was the biggest of all, the oldest of all, the smartest of all and the most dangerous. She had dwelt in the forest since no one knew when, and had grown to an enourmous height. Her appetite was never stilled, and she ever hunted for victims, whom she killed by just letting herself fall down onto them and they died by the weight of her. But most importantly, she was very smart. Smart as in never letting the elves find her, never attacking them when they were many, but silently dispersing elves that were strolling alone through the forest. Which nowadays, nobody did anymore. And she knew the strongholds of her enemies, and regularily destroyed various platforms, and rivers she would poison with the venom in her stings. The elves were powerless against her.

Carefully, Thranduil climbed down from his elk and crept closer. He had made it all the way to the platform, and was now hiding behind a tree nearby. What distracted him, was the awful smell that lingered in the air. Faron always spread a stank about her, but today it felt lifeless, a dying smell. It simply wavered around in this place, but it didn't move, it didn't breathe. Where was she?

The king had to shut down his pride a little, to be able to creep on the ground of the forest, and nearer to where the smell came from. Intuition told him, that there was something wrong here, and as king, he needed to find out. The only thing that annoyed him a bit, was that his tunic got dirty in the mud on the forest soil. 

Suddenly he was met with a most astounding sight. The big spider was lying on its back on the forest floor, dark blood trickling out from where legs of her should have been. She did not stir, when Thranduil crept all the way up to her to inspect her. Two of her legs were missing, it seemed like they had been cut of, and he was almost sure she was dead. Red blood ran down her chest. 

Thranduil startled. Spiders didn't have red blood. And then he saw the arm. It was sticking out from under one of her legs and was twisted in a weird angle. That was, when he started panicking. Quick as only elves can be, he had drawn his dagger and was cutting off the leg that hid the owner of the arm from his sight. Then he threw it on the ground and gasped. There was Bard. 

He was lying on the stomach of the spider, having been totally covered with her leg, and he was as pale as the Moon. His left arm was most certainly broken, more precisely crushed, as Thranduil would describe it, and he was covered in blood. Swiftly, the king put his cheek over the man's mouth to check if he was still breathing. He was not, at least not so that he could feel it.

What had he learnt from his nurse when he was little? There was a herb that could revive dying people, or at least did its very best to do so? What was it called again? The king searched in his mind for the long forgotten memory, hidden behind thoughts of clothes and gems and what he should eat for dinner. But finally he found it: Echui-galas, the plant of life. If he could only find it here, maybe he could save Bard. 

But no healing herbs grew on that place, poisoned by Faron over the years. He would have to search for it, and he could only hope, that when he returned, Bard could still be saved.