𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬 ➵︎ [ 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘧 ]

19| into fangorn

The second we stepped beneath the looming shadow of the trees, the damp and musty air of the forest enveloped us. The twisted branches above, gnarly with age, cast distorted silhouettes upon the floor, constricting the forest undergrowth of light, the sprawling limbs guarding the darkness. Huge roots strangled the forest floor, twisting like the backs of sea dragons from the deep.

The air was dense, and my skin prickled at its chilly touch. A strange atmosphere lay over the forest, an aura of mystery that enwrapped the trees like coils of vaporous mist and fog.

We tread carefully, navigating through the trees, our senses on high alert as we scanned the forests around us, searching for an hint of movement or threat.

Gimli stopped to examine a dark viscous liquid on a leaf, a sickening black against the colour of the forest. Before I could stop him, he brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting it.

"Orc blood!" He spluttered.

"Surely there must be better ways than taste," I asked as I walked.

"Ah, lassie, but there isn't," he replied as he continued to wipe his mouth. "For you see, orc blood has a distinctive taste of rott-"

"Thank you, Gimli," I cut him off with disdain, shuddering at the thought of orc blood anywhere near my mouth. "I think I would rather stay ill-informed as to what Orc blood tastes like."

Legolas smiled.

"Trust a dwarf to know what Orc tastes like," he quipped.

"Actually, I have a story about that," Gimli retorted as he stepped over a tree root.

A story I'd rather not hear about, I thought

Legolas leapt gracefully over a small stream, his eyes meeting mine with a telltale smirk.

"Well isn't that an interesting story-"

"-For another time," I interrupted, sending a pointed glare at Legolas, who just raised his eyebrows, his lips curling at the corners.

Aragorn, who had completely ignored the banter between the three of us at this point, crouched down, examining a set of tracks on the floor.

"These are strange tracks," he said, his voice low.

I frowned, joining his side to look. It was a deep imprint on the damp soil, far too wide to belong to a hobbit, with strange and irregular indentations.

Gimli's eyes darted wildly about as he clutched his axe close, shifting from foot to foot nervously.

"The air is so close here," he restlessly remarked as he tread through the forest, eyeing everything with suspicion.

Legolas' azure eyes were thoughtful.

"This forest is old..." he said as he gazed at the trees, his gold hair bright against the gloom of the forest. "Very old..."

The wood elf gazed at the forests around him. "Full of memory..."

He suddenly furrowed his brows. "...and anger."

All of a sudden a low creaking echoed throughout the entire forest, rippling through the air as the quiet was broken. They sounded...almost like deep voices erupting from the trees. Aldion perked his ears, but continued walking beside me.

Gimli, however, raised his axe in fright.

Legolas' eyes seemed to glimmer in wonder. I guess you could say he was in his natural habitat as a wood elf.

I, on the other hand, felt a little out of my element. Maladros was a city of stone and gold, not wood. At least once, I had misjudged the size of a root and had stumbled, earning quiet chuckles from my companions