Legolas X Reader - Bewildering Charm Part 5

*****Years Earlier (continuation of previous chapter) *****

Fear, much like doubt, roots itself deep inside the mind, and once it has it engulfs its victim. Fear is an abnormal emotion that can cause many extravagant reactions. Once born it develops at vigorous speed.
Love is weakness.
The trees begin to blur as your throat dries up. Your body drips with terror and though you strain to suppress the horror from seeping through your body, your barrier shatters into fragments. Your legs go as weighty as the oaks that grow about you.
“Araliel!” you scream, your own tortured voice echoes about you and pierces your ears. And in some way it feels like an arrow to the heart. If only.
Your feet are immovable as the inhuman monstrosities move ahead.
When children play up parents usually frighten them into behaving by articulating petrifying tales of ill-disciplined children and of the alarming situations they found themselves in.
In the woodland realm, words of orcs, wargs, goblins and beasts that perish due to their own malevolent deeds, are uttered in order to keep the Elvin children inside the gates. To keep them sheltered from the malice that lurks beyond your realm.
Most go their entire lives without encountering the nightmares.
You are a hunter, you have seen evil with your own two eyes. You have taken lives of Orcs as easily as you breathe. It is second nature to you, nothing out of the ordinary.
But this. This was a whole new situation you have found yourself in.
The icy wisps of fear creep over your chest and breathing becomes difficult as the anxiety blocks logic.  
The warg glares back at you with merciless raging spheres. A hunger no Orc has ever shown vibrates through its features.
You once thought there was no smell equivalent to the rotting stench or Orc meat.
The reek that now swept itself up your nostrils was far worse than any Orc you’d ever slain. This was as if an Orc had been left in the sun for days on end. This was the scent of decease.
Your eyes wander over its mattered fur and slathering jaws. Jaws in which, that are chomping up and down with anticipation.
You have seen several carrying Orcs but never have you seen them hunting in solitude; amongst their own species.
It is a wonder they have come this far and you wonder what it is they search for. Perhaps it was just Elvin flesh they craved.
Semiliak’s steel burns through your leather tunic and into your skin, longing to be released upon the creatures in front of you.
“Ona he’quenle! (give her back!),” you spit through gritted teeth.
The wargs are silent, though several at the rear twist to have you in their sights. There is no sound but the whistle of the wind amongst the trees, a shrill calling to savour the serenity before it is splintered.
You draw your sword in a rapid and senseless manoeuvre and lunge forward with a yell, the tip of the sword presses against the area between the creature’s eyes.  
This time however, the beast is awakened into action. It bounds forward and you leap backwards.
It lets out a vicious roar.
Its teeth graze the precious steel you ache to put in its heart.
All you can think about is the young elf. It tears you apart to think of what already may have happened. But memories of her skill in battle echo throughout your mind.
Araliel will not be harmed, she is too skilful to be put down by a bunch of oversized canines.
Though these beasts wreak havoc and inflict pain and death wherever they see fit.
You squeeze your eyes shut and ponder over the only resolution clear to you.
You must require help, there is no promising resolution for either of you if you attempt to slay the beasts by your lonesome.
You turn on your heel and glide with Elvin agility through the woods, the Warg is on your heels but will be easy to lose with the nimbleness gifted to your kind.
Abruptly the sounds behind you stop, the Warg has gone back the way it came. Shock impales you.  
“No Araliel,” you whimper, your vision begins to blur as the tears are evoked.
Your feet move faster and you are carried with the wind.
Your sister’s fate depended on the decisions you now made. There was only one Elf that could aid you now.
Acquiring King Thranduil’s assistance would not be a simple task.  

*****Present Day*****

There is a gentle tap at your back and you spin promptly around. You are greeted with relief as Larien welcomes you with her small smug grin. You astonish both yourself and the small elf as you bring her in for a quick embrace.
For moments before you had come to ponder the thought that she may be one of the deceased.
You realize your moment of weakness and hastily pull back and Larien gives you an understanding nod.
“I am not so easy to put down, (F/N),” she says with a soft caress on your right shoulder.
“Indeed. But Larien, there is no possible way that we can triumph in this battle. We are outnumbered on a scale so large, none of us may yet survive,” you mutter and your eyes fall to the ground with disbelief.
There is horrid yelps behind you from the grey blurs. There was only seconds before you would be ripped into combat once more.
Larien realizes this and tugs you in so that her mouth is inches from your ear. Her voice erupts at your ear and you listen meticulously to each word. When she jolts back you feel a renewed sense of faith.
There was hope.