"I say one thing to you, and you get upset?"
Sylas looked up at the eaglet, now taller than himself, and gave its head an amused pat.
"I heard from Edward you've been off your feed lately. Turns out you've been sneaking extra meals from Arwen."
At that, Thorondor's gaze slid away, his posture shrinking like a child caught red-handed.
Ever since Sylas had moved the nest from the tower to the boughs of the Mauron tree, the great bird had grown fond of Arwen, who often stayed in the tree house. And given the choice, Thorondor far preferred food prepared by an Elf over plain dried meat.
"Come now, Sylas," Arwen said gently, stroking Thorondor's feathers with a fond smile. "He's still young, and Lembas does him good. It's rich in energy, which he needs while he's growing."
Well, if both parties were content, what could Sylas say?
He only watched the eaglet nuzzle closer to Arwen, feeling an odd twinge of envy.
A man, it seemed, fared worse than a bird. He hadn't even had the pleasure of tasting Lembas lately, yet here was Thorondor eating it as a daily treat.
"Arwen, would you care to visit the Woodland Realm?" Sylas asked suddenly.
Her brows lifted in surprise. "You're going to the Woodland Realm?"
Sylas nodded. "You heard about the invasion of giant spiders, didn't you? They're planning a counterattack to drive them out of Mirkwood. Legolas is returning to join the fight, and he's invited me to come along. I've agreed."
"Then I'll go too," she said without hesitation. "I've never visited another Elven realm apart from Rivendell and Lórien."
"Excellent. We'll set out tomorrow."
Beside them, Thorondor let out an insistent coo, as if to say he meant to go as well.
"You?" Sylas rolled his eyes. "You can't even fly yet. In Mirkwood you'd be nothing more than a snack for the spiders."
The eaglet turned his back with a huff, then looked to Arwen for sympathy.
But she shook her head. "No, Thorondor. You're still too young for such battles. Wait for us here, and when we return, I'll make you Lórien's mauve nut cakes."
That promise softened his sulk, though after a bit of haggling, he extracted an additional month's supply of Lembas before settling down entirely.
From the sidelines, Sylas shook his head. The little creature who had once been on the verge of being cast out by his kin was now utterly spoiled.
The next morning
Sylas departed with Arwen, Legolas, Elrohir, and Elladan bound for Mirkwood. Beorn had long since returned to the Vale of Anduin to tend his herds.
When they left, Sylas carried a suitcase whose contents no one asked about, and which he did not offer to explain.
Through the fireplace, they stepped one by one into the grand halls of the Woodland Realm.
Thranduil awaited them in the throne room.
"Welcome to the Woodland Realm, Lord of Amon Sûl!"
The Elvenking descended from his throne with open arms, embracing Sylas, then turning to greet Elrohir, Elladan, and Arwen warmly.
"And of course, my dear kin," he added with a smile.
Clad in ornate battle armor, Thranduil radiated the poised authority of a ruler, and the keen edge of a warrior about to march to war.
"Your Majesty Thranduil, it has been far too long since our last meeting. I never properly thanked you for your gift." Sylas inclined his head in greeting, drawing attention to the white gem brooch pinned to his chest.
The brooch, carved from a rare white sapphire, carried the blessings of the Woodland Elves. It allowed its bearer to commune in secret with the voices of the forest and offered the wearer its protection.
Sylas had made certain to wear it on this journey.
A faint smile touched Thranduil's lips when his gaze fell upon the brooch. He gave a dignified nod.
"If it pleases you, that is all the thanks I require."
"On the contrary," Sylas replied warmly.
"I must thank you for the guidance you have given Legolas. He has grown stronger since I last saw him, more sure of himself."
Thranduil's expression softened as his eyes fell upon his son. The pride there was unmistakable. In a heartbeat, the Elven King also noted the faint trace of magic clinging to Legolas, magic he recognized as having come from Sylas himself.
It was no small thing. In Middle-earth, magical knowledge was jealously guarded, entrusted to precious few. That Sylas had shared such wisdom freely was a gift Thranduil would not forget.
"The spawn of Ungoliant grow restless," Thranduil said gravely.
"They have sensed something amiss and are calling allies from the southern forest. If we do not strike swiftly, they will gather their strength. We must destroy them before they have the chance."
"Then let me fight at your side!" Legolas said without hesitation.
Thranduil did not refuse him, but his gaze turned apologetically to Sylas and the three Elven siblings, Elrohir, Elladan, and Arwen.
"I cannot properly host you today. When the forest is free of this corruption, I shall hold a feast in your honor."
Sylas shook his head with a small smile. "Your Majesty, we came at Legolas's invitation and are here to help. If you ride to war, we ride with you."
The others nodded in agreement, their eyes bright with resolve.
Thranduil accepted their aid gladly. He had intended to scour every last nest of giant spiders from Mirkwood and with Sylas and the others beside him, his chances of success only grew.
Soon, a horn's clear call echoed through the forest, summoning the warriors of the Woodland Realm.
Legolas broke away from their group, joining the assembled host as one of the vanguard leaders. The Elven army swept southward in disciplined ranks, their passage a swift, silent shadow beneath the canopy.
Sylas, Arwen, Elrohir, and Elladan remained near Thranduil himself. The Elven King offered Sylas the reins of a great elk, one of several noble beasts kept in his royal stables. This one, the gentlest of its kind, stood tall and proud, its great antlers branching like living ivory.
It was Sylas's first time astride such a mount, and he found himself studying the elegant spread of antlers with curiosity.
Thranduil noticed. "If it pleases you, the elk is yours," he offered without hesitation.
Sylas laughed softly, shaking his head.
Seeing Sylas's refusal, Thranduil did not press the matter, turning his attention entirely to the looming battle.
At that moment, Sylas's gaze was drawn to the white gem brooch on his chest.
As the brooch pulsed with a subtle light, something stirred in the forest. Sylas felt a deep connection to the land around him, as though the very trees had awoken to acknowledge his presence. He could sense their breathing, hear the minute scurrying of insects, the frantic flight of startled animals… and, high above in the boughs of a massive tree nearly a hundred meters away, the skittering malice of a giant spider lying in wait.
Startled, Sylas snapped his head toward the danger, just as the creature prepared to strike. But before he could even voice a warning, the elven warriors had already moved. A volley of arrows whistled through the air, striking the spider's head with flawless precision. The moment it fell, an elf leapt forward and dispatched it in a single, decisive blow.
From discovery to execution, it had taken only seconds.
Sylas let the unspoken warning die in his throat. In Mirkwood, the elves fought with a speed and coordination that rivaled any force he had seen in Erebor.
Still, his eyes lingered on the carcass now being hauled aside, and he turned to Thranduil. "Your Majesty, might I keep these spider corpses?"
The Elvenking raised a brow, puzzled. To him, the remains of such dark creatures were nothing but filth, tainting the land and water if left unburned. Yet if Sylas desired them, he would not refuse.
"I had planned to gather them and burn them after the battle," Thranduil said. "Otherwise, nothing will grow where they lie. But if you have use for them, take them."
With the king's consent, Sylas wasted no time. He summoned the nearest carcass with a levitation charm, dismounted his elk, and produced a glass flask to collect the vivid green venom before stowing the body inside a magically expanded satchel.
Elrohir, watching with curiosity, tilted his head. "Sylas, what could you possibly need with a giant spider?"
Smiling, Sylas gave the vial in his hand a light shake. "This venom is far from useless. It can be distilled into powerful antidotes and used to strengthen magical artifacts."
In truth, Sylas had noticed long ago that these Mirkwood spiders were much like the Acromantulas of the wizarding world, only more potent. Their venom could not only replace Acromantula venom, but surpass it in effectiveness. In the wizarding market, such a substance was worth a fortune, sought after by potion masters and enchanters alike.
He had no intention of letting such an opportunity slip away.
If possible, he meant to capture a few of the creatures alive before leaving the Dark Forest and construct a secure habitat within his tower to breed them. Once eradicated from Mirkwood, they would be all but impossible to find again.
And it was not just the venom he valued. Sylas planned to harvest their nerve fibers for wand cores, and the rest of the flesh would serve another purpose entirely, as a feast for Herpo, his basilisk.
Acromantulas were a delicacy to the great serpent, and these Mirkwood giants were an even rarer prize. The two he had once kept in his tower had already been devoured, granting Herpo a significant growth spurt and an increase in magical power.
To most creatures, such meat was deadly poison, the dark taint lingering in the blood enough to kill even a great eagle. But for a basilisk, it was a life-giving elixir.
This journey, then, was not solely to answer Legolas's invitation or to rid Mirkwood of its infestation. For Sylas, it was also the perfect chance to gather a generous supply of food for his most dangerous companion.
...
Stones Plzz
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