As the Elven army pushed deeper into the southern forest, they encountered an increasing number of giant spiders.
The woodland warriors moved with the grace of deer, leaping from branch to branch as though walking on level ground. Within moments, several spider nests had been destroyed.
Foremost among them was Legolas, the vanguard leader. Unlike most Wood-elves who favored the bow, Legolas wielded his wand with deadly precision, casting spells with the same surety as his arrows. He moved like a swift stag through the shadowy boughs, a fleeting blur between the trees.
Each flick of his wand sent another spider tumbling from the treetops. He did not waste magic on overly complex enchantments. Instead, he relied on quick, efficient spells, the Leg-Locker Curse, the Tarantallegra, simple yet devastating to arachnid foes. Under their effects, spiders staggered, legs bound or flailing uncontrollably, until they plunged to the forest floor, where waiting Elven blades finished the work.
From behind the lines, King Thranduil watched with open pride. His eyes gleamed as he turned to Sylas.
"Sylas, Legolas has learned much from you. You have my gratitude," he said warmly.
Sylas smiled and waved the thanks aside. "Legolas is my friend, and he's helped me greatly as well. Think nothing of it."
As more spiders fell, Sylas's eyes lit up. Without hesitation, he ran forward to one of the slain beasts, transfigured a handful of leaves into crystal bottles, and began extracting venom.
Spider venom had to be harvested quickly, left too long, it would spoil and lose its potency. Once finished, Sylas tucked the bottles into his robes, then stored the spider carcasses in his enchanted satchel. By now, he had collected hundreds, enough to keep his basilisk well-fed for weeks.
The best part, in his view, was that he hadn't needed to lift a finger in the actual fighting. He merely followed the Elves, harvesting the spoils. It was, he thought, the perfect arrangement.
Thranduil, amused by his actions, quietly ordered several warriors to set aside more spider corpses for Sylas's use.
The Elven army pressed onward, making for the Old Forest Road. But here they finally met true resistance.
The spiders, though mute, were clever and malicious. Having learned of the Elves' advance, they rallied in great numbers, thousands of them, lying in wait in the dense trees near the road.
When the army arrived, the path ahead was blocked by a wall of thick webbing. From ground to canopy, the forest was bound in silver strands, forming a colossal barrier that split the dark wood from east to west.
A warrior struck at the webs with his blade, but the silk was not only tough, it clung fast to the steel. Cutting through even a single layer took far too long, and there were dozens.
Thranduil's frown deepened. The spiders meant to halt their momentum.
It was then that Elrohir and Elladan stepped forward.
"Your Majesty," Elrohir said, "the battlefield has shifted. If we allow the spiders to slow us, they'll have time to regroup. Let us and Legolas take the lead."
Elladan added, "We've learned much from Sylas these past days. Let us test it here."
Arwen moved to stand beside them, her eyes alight. "Include me as well."
Thranduil wasted no time in granting their request to join the fight, nodding firmly.
"Then I'll leave it to you all."
"Do you need my help?" Sylas asked, stepping closer when he saw Arwen and the others readying themselves.
Arwen smiled and shook her head. "How could you, a professor, take the field before your own students? Let us handle it first." Her eyes glinted playfully. "Besides, we need to show everyone what we've learned from your lessons."
Sylas could only sigh at the reminder. He had jokingly told them to call him 'professor' during training, but she clearly hadn't forgotten. With a chuckle, he replied, "Very well. As your teacher, I won't steal your moment of glory. I'll just wait in the back to collect the remains."
Arwen's lips curved. "Don't worry. Since you seem to have such a fondness for strange creatures like giant spiders, I'll make sure to bring you a generous offering as a student's tribute."
Elrohir, standing nearby, caught the subtle shift between the two and frowned. "Arwen, let's move!"
Neither Arwen nor Sylas seemed to notice. They shared a brief, wordless glance before she turned away.
Sylas stood and watched as Arwen, Elrohir, and Elladan galloped toward the front lines to join Legolas.
Thranduil caught Sylas's eye and gave him a knowing smile but said nothing.
The four elves quickly gathered and agreed to combine their magic in one concentrated strike to tear open a breach in the enemy's defenses, giving the army a clear path forward before the spiders could react.
Wands raised, they pointed toward the thick barricade of webbing.
Four sharp rays of white light burst forth, merging into a single, blinding beam. The combined magic roared forward, tearing through the web and blasting open a gap over ten meters wide.
Without pause, Arwen and her companions vaulted over the shattered webbing, pressing forward to widen the passage. The elven army surged through behind them.
On the other side, thousands of giant spiders awaited. They clung to the high branches, striking from above, spitting threads of silken traps or lunging forward with venom-dripping fangs.
Legolas, Elrohir, Elladan, and Arwen reacted in perfect sync, their wands flashing as they counterattacked.
Arwen moved like a wild deer through the forest canopy, impossibly light and quick, her feet barely touching the branches. She leapt from trunk to trunk, wand in one hand, dagger in the other, dispatching spiders with precision. Each attack was fluid, every movement a seamless blend of grace and lethality. She dodged every spray of silk and stinger thrust with instinctive ease, twisting midair to drive a kick into a spider lunging toward her, sending it tumbling from the treetop.
No longer the pampered Princess of Rivendell and Lórien, she fought as a true elven warrior, swift, sharp, and utterly fearless.
From behind, Sylas watched in awe. If before Arwen had embodied beauty, nobility, and elegance, now she radiated a fierce power, a strength that matched her grace.
Even Thranduil's gaze softened with admiration. A small sigh of regret crossed his mind; if she and Legolas had cared for each other, she would have been the perfect daughter-in-law.
Meanwhile, the three male elves fought no less valiantly. With their unmatched agility, lightning reflexes, and the precision of their spells, they brought down wave after wave of spiders.
Around them, the rest of the elven warriors joined the battle, loosing arrows and wielding blades, turning the spider horde into a rain of falling bodies.
As the elven army pressed deeper into the southern forest, their resistance from the giant spiders began to crumble. Thousands of the creatures were losing strength under the relentless assault and fled south in disarray, leaving a trail of corpses in their wake.
The swift elven warriors seized the opportunity, pursuing the retreating swarm without hesitation. Behind the main force, elves assigned to logistics gathered the fallen spiders and promptly delivered them to Sylas. He received each one with satisfaction, his collection of giant spider venom now filled several barrels, enough for brewing numerous potent potions. His space bag was crammed full of spider corpses, yet he still welcomed more.
Such chances were rare; once Sauron and the forces of darkness were vanquished, creatures like these would become scarce. Sylas intended to stockpile as much as possible, knowing the basilisk he kept had an enormous appetite. As it grew, even this bounty would not sustain it for long.
The army's pursuit led them across the old forest road and further south, where the environment turned hostile. The woods and even the air bore the taint of the spiders' corruption. Trees twisted into grotesque shapes, the soil and leaves festered with rot, and streams ran with water steeped in drowsing enchantments. A faint, poisonous haze drifted through the air, carrying hallucinogenic effects.
Progress became arduous. The elves had to remain vigilant for both hidden spiders and the creeping influence of the poison. Fortunately, they were prepared, each warrior produced a scarf infused with an herbal remedy crafted by elven healers to dull the toxins' effects.
Sylas accepted one, noting its fresh, plant-like scent, but decided to take no chances. With a quick incantation, he cast a Bubble-Head Charm on himself, then drew his staff. Channeling his magic, the emerald at its tip flared brightly, releasing hundreds of shimmering bubbles. These floated gently through the ranks, settling over the heads of each elf like protective spheres.
At first, the sensation was strange, but the elves soon realized the bubbles filtered the air, leaving them with only fresh, clean breath. Thranduil, pleased by the improvement, subtly guided one of the bubbles to cover his elk mount's head.
"Sylas, you have helped us greatly again," the king said warmly.
Sylas's gaze flicked to Thranduil's uncovered face. "Your Majesty, where's your bubble? Should I make one for you?"
The king shook his head with a faint smile. "No. These poisons cannot harm me." He had no intention of walking about with a head encased in bubbles, it was far from dignified.