The rot-soft leaves of Mirkwood burst with slick juice under Bilbo's feet as five calf-sized spiders drove him into a hollow at the roots of an ancient tree. Their clacking fangs sprayed venom that pitted the trunk into honeycombed holes.
"Come on, then. There are no eight-legged stew-meats like you in the Shire. If other hobbits saw you, they would toss you straight into the pot."
Bilbo brandished the brass short blade with blustering bravado and drove the tip into the first spider's lower jaw.
A heartbeat later, another spider's forefang struck his wrist. The blade flipped and vanished among the roots.
"Gajii, take him."
The second spider's excited screech came with its tackle, pinning Bilbo to the ground.
Excitement turned to a pained scream as Bilbo mule-kicked it off. A gleaming silver Elven dagger flashed into his grip.
"Tarnes did not give me only one knife," Bilbo said, a touch smug, and waggled the Elven blade at the twitching carcass.
More spiders closed. He swallowed.
"Of course, when he gave it to me, he did not mean for me to fight big fellows like you." He shifted with the dagger to ward the ring of chitin.
They were unmoved. The canopy above shifted and dropped. Rain-thick strands of gluey silk splattered him and pinned his left leg to the ground.
Three spiders lunged at once from different angles. He raised Sting to parry on instinct and was swatted aside again.
A strand whipped tight around his wrist. A foreclaw clamped his ribs and hips and hurled him into a tree.
His skull struck a knot. Red flooded his vision.
He dimly saw the Elven dagger stuck in the soil beside him, but his right hand had no strength left to pull it free.
The shrieking rose to a fever pitch. Thick silk layered his chest. The reek clogged his nose and mouth.
Before the dark swallowed him, he curled a knee and drove his heel into a spider's belly.
A voice split the forest like a thundercrack. Bernahl burst through vines in a streak of silver-white.
His knight's greatsword swept on the storm wind, three unseen arcs fanning out.
The foremost spiders came apart at once. Luminous blood had not yet fallen when his blade punched through a fourth skull.
The remaining spiders reared. Bernahl planted a heel on the trunk and twisted in midair like a loosed heavy arrow.
Clang.
The point slotted into the joint seam of a foreclaw. A turn of the wrist, and shell three fingers thick popped with a crack. The scream tore the air as Bernahl pressed down and ripped a five-foot gash along the chest and belly.
Innards gushed over the leaf-mould like a waterfall as the knight vaulted from the dying bulk toward Bilbo.
His mouth held its usual faint smile, but his voice was colder than the edge. "You dare lay a fang on Tarnes' friend. I would not want to see how mad he gets when he hears."
The five remaining spiders shrank back. Bernahl's silver armor burned in their many eyes.
He used the moment to check on Bilbo. Half the hobbit's pale face showed from a cocoon of silk. Blood from a gash at his left brow beaded into garnet on the strands.
"Bilbo."
No answer.
Poisoned.
Bernahl's pupils snapped tight. His knuckles whitened on the hilt. When he turned back, the gale of his greatsword already howled.
He smashed the left spider's head with the flat. Spatter made its sibling on the right flinch.
He spun, sheared a sneaking strand, and then drove the pommel-carving straight into the final spider's mouthparts.
When he stopped at Bilbo's side, the corpses lay in a radial pattern centered on the hobbit, each kill clean and single-stroke.
He dropped to a knee and checked for breath. Relief softened his jawline. He gentled the blade tip to lift the silk shell.
Bilbo's web-gummed lashes fluttered twice. Bernahl drew out his crimson tear flask.
"Open up, sip this."
The hobbit parted his lips a crack. Bernahl tipped the flask.
Coughs racked Bilbo. Blessing in the draught refilled his strength and knitted the hurts. In a heartbeat, the hobbit was lively again.
Seeing Bernahl's face, Bilbo sagged with relief. "Mr. Bernahl."
"Quiet now. Looks like you have made some new friends." Bernahl raised a finger to his lips, listening to faint ticks above and around, spider feet pricking bark.
Bilbo winced an apology. Bernahl patted his shoulder. "Save it for Lake-town. Tarnes is surely wor—"
He cut off and snapped the sword backward.
A camouflaged spider that had crept close spasmed, its brain skewered. Eight legs curled grotesquely as it thumped down.
"Grab your steel. Stay tight," Bernahl said, clipped.
He could kill them all. He was not confident he could keep Bilbo unscathed if they stood their ground.
Bilbo yanked the Elven blade free and nodded, taut.
"Run."
More spiders, drawn by the commotion, swarmed through the trees.
One bore down on Bilbo. A sharp hiss cut the air. An arrow from nowhere punched straight through its eye cluster.
"Down."
A clear woman's voice rang out.
Bernahl ducked by instinct. Arrow-rain hissed past his helm.
Spiders dropping from the canopy thunked against trunks, fletching still quivering.
Tauriel dropped from a branch, drew two more shafts, and held on to the remaining spiders. She did not loose, because Legolas swept through like a gale.
The prince's toes kissed webbing as he moved. Each rise loosed an arrow.
He landed by Bernahl as three final shafts sank through three pulsing hearts.
Legolas lowered his bow and brushed silk from his shoulder. Broken sunlight chased through his hair as if even the slaughter were a graceful dance.
He raised his bow to the elves around them. "Stand down."
Bernahl placed Bilbo behind him and eyed the arrivals. "Mirkwood's welcome grows novel. Have you learned to steal another's quarry now?"
"Steal." Tauriel arched a brow and kicked a carcass. "These little darlings should have been cleared three days ago. My squad has been on them. When we were ready to close the trap, your hobbit drew them off and blew the encirclement."
Bilbo was quick. "So you saw me long ago, and just watched while they chased me."
Legolas glanced coolly at him. "Watched. You do not know how many you riled. Why do you think you lasted this long? Without Tauriel and her squad, you would have drowned in spiders."
Bernahl raised a palm. "Enough. You chose to show yourselves now for what."
Legolas and Tauriel exchanged a look. Tauriel spoke first. "I was looking for you, to bring a warning. A friendly one."
"What warning?" Bernahl asked.
She pointed to the carcasses. "These spiders are vanishing from the Wood, a little more each day. The ones here are nearly all that remain."
Bernahl grunted. "Is that not good for your Woodland Realm. Not long ago, your king said these spiders plagued your folk. If they are leaving, you need not fear their raids. Why call it a warning."
Bilbo's ears pricked. He heard what she had not said.
He peeped past Bernahl's shoulder. "Excuse me, my lady. You said vanishing, not slain. Did you not."
Tauriel smiled kindly at Bilbo, then looked to Bernahl. "Your hobbit friend grasped it first."
Bernahl frowned. "Where are they vanishing to?"
Legolas answered. "As she said. These are the stragglers. We have tracked the main swarms for days."
Bernahl's head snapped toward the eaves behind them, and beyond, toward Lake-town.
He smiled. "Interesting. They are leaving the forest for folk. Thank you for the news. If you visit the Golden Tree, I will buy you both a drink."
He paused. "Elves can drink, yes."
Legolas nodded.
"Good." Bernahl clapped Bilbo's shoulder. "We are heading back."
"Wait," Bilbo said. "The knife Tarnes gave me. I dropped it. I must find it."
His hand went to his pocket and found only the empty inner lining. Cold sweat ran down his neck. While the others looked away, his face changed.
The Ring that he had tucked into his inner pocket was gone.
He snapped his head up. "And I lost something important. I must find them."
Bernahl simply opened his hand. The brass short-blade and a gold ring lay on his palm. "Important. These."
Bilbo gaped.
Bernahl passed them over without fuss. "Next time keep a grip on your weapon, and wear a coat with pockets you can close. Important things will not go missing."
Bilbo took the sword and ring. At the word "important," his eyes went first to the brass sword, then to the Ring.
"Bilbo," Bernahl prompted.
Bilbo started, stowed both quickly, and asked, "Thank you. Where did you find them?"
"They had fallen together," Bernahl said with a shrug. "Who else would bring a knife and a ring into Mirkwood for a stroll."
Bilbo tucked the Ring away. It was no longer hot, only cold as before. "Thank you," he said again.
"No need," Bernahl replied. "About the ring, a word."
Bilbo's heart climbed into his throat. Outwardly he smiled. "Yes."
"That ring has a whiff of magic. It would not stop chattering when I picked it up. I have been through enough to find it laughable. Since it matters to you, let Tarnes look at it. He is good with enchanted things. He will make sure it is harmless."
Bilbo exhaled. "Of course. I will. He is busy planning the Lonely Mountain with Thorin, though. When he is done, I will tell him."
Tauriel called from the side. "You will need someone who knows these spiders."
Bernahl turned. "You want to come to Lake-town. I do not think they are a real threat. A trained Storm soldier can handle one."
"Exactly," Tauriel said. "Which is why they never fight fair. They lurk in the dark and wait until their prey is tired. You cannot promise your soldiers will be sharp every moment."
Legolas stepped to her side and murmured, "Are you mad, Tauriel? If my father learns of this, he will throw you in prison."
"He has always wanted to," she said without looking. "Better I finish the spiders first, before he does."
Legolas drew a long breath. "Then I am coming too."
Now Tauriel gave him the "are you mad?" look.
Bernahl glanced between the two stubborn elves and grinned. "On Tarnes' behalf, I will welcome you both."