In the dark, shadowy forest, as the elven army steadily advanced deeper into the southern woods, the number of giant spiders they encountered grew ever larger.
The elven warriors, agile and deadly in battle, moved and leapt lightly among the trees as if walking on level ground. In no time, they had cleared out several giant spider nests.
Especially at the vanguard, leading the charge, was Legolas. Unlike other wood elves who preferred long-range archery, his talent for shooting was unparalleled—but instead of a bow, he used a wand to cast spells with pinpoint accuracy.
He moved like a swift, graceful stag, darting through the dense forest so quickly that only a fleeting blur could be seen. Yet his spellcasting never faltered; almost every incantation sent a giant spider tumbling from the trees.
Legolas did not bother with overly powerful spells; instead, he chose quick, simple ones effective against spiders—such as the Leg-Locker Curse and the Tarantallegra dancing charm. Sure enough, under these enchantments, the eight-legged creatures either found their limbs magically bound or flailed uncontrollably in an absurd dance, soon toppling from the treetops.
Below, waiting elves swiftly finished them off with a single strike.
From behind, Thranduil watched Legolas's exceptional performance, unable to hide the proud smile in his eyes.
Of course, he didn't forget to thank Luke.
"Luke, Legolas has learned a great deal from you. For that, I am deeply grateful!"
Luke waved off the thanks with a smile.
"Legolas is my friend, and he's helped me a lot lately. It's nothing."
Then, seeing the elves take down a few more giant spiders, his eyes lit up. Without hesitation, he ran to the corpses, waved his wand, and transformed several leaves into glass bottles to collect the venom.
Giant spider venom must be gathered quickly; if the spider's body fully dies, it will spoil and become useless.
After collecting the venom, Luke also tucked the corpses into his spatial pouch.
By now, he had hundreds of giant spider bodies stored—enough to keep the basilisk well-fed for a long time.
And all without lifting a finger in combat—just following behind the warriors and reaping the spoils.
He found this extremely satisfying and wished the spiders would come at them even harder.
Seeing Luke's behavior, Thranduil immediately ordered his lieutenant to assign elves specifically to deliver spider corpses to him.
The elven army advanced rapidly southward until they reached the Old Forest Road.
Here, they finally faced a concentrated counterattack from the spiders.
Though they could not speak, giant spiders possessed intelligence and were extremely cunning and wicked.
Upon learning of the elves' advance, they had rallied over a thousand of their kind to lay an ambush near the Old Forest Road.
The elven army's progress halted.
Thranduil frowned at the sight before him—
massive webs blocked the forest, stretching from ground to canopy, covering the air above like a vast net. From east to west, they divided the dark forest in two.
Elves struck at the webs with sharp swords, but the silk was not only tough and elastic, it was also incredibly sticky. Blades failed to cut through and often became stuck instead.
Even if they managed to slice a few strands, clearing the entire layered webbing would take who knew how long.
Just as Thranduil's brows knit deeper, Ellohir and Elladan stepped forward.
"Your Majesty Thranduil," Ellohir said, "the battlefield situation has shifted. These spiders clearly intend to slow our advance—we mustn't give them time to recover. Let us and Legolas take the lead in clearing the way!"
"We've just learned quite a bit of magic from Luke. This is a perfect time to put it to the test," Elladan added.
"I'm joining too!" Arwen stepped forward.
Her usual gentle grace shifted in an instant, replaced by fearlessness and courage—like a blend of a goddess of beauty and a valkyrie.
Thranduil didn't refuse; he nodded his agreement.
"Then I'll trouble you all with the task."
"Need my help?" Luke asked Arwen.
Arwen shook her head with a playful smile.
"How could we trouble our professor to step in? Let your students handle this one. After all, we should show everyone the results of learning magic under you."
Luke chuckled helplessly, surprised she remembered his joke about calling him "Professor" during lessons.
"All right then, I'll let my students have the spotlight—perfect chance for me to keep reaping the spoils."
"Don't worry," Arwen teased, "since you love strange creatures like giant spiders so much, I'll be sure to hunt plenty for you—as a student's gift to her teacher."
Ellohir, sensing a strange tension between the two, quickly cut in:
"Arwen, let's go!"
Neither Arwen nor Luke seemed to notice; they exchanged a knowing glance without any "be careful" farewells.
Luke watched as Arwen, Ellohir, and Elladan rode to the front lines to join Legolas.
Thranduil noticed Luke's gaze and gave him a subtle, knowing smile—but said nothing.
The four gathered, discussing how to combine their magic to blast open a gap in the webs and allow the army through before the spiders could respond.
Raising their wands toward the webs, they shouted in unison:
"Reducto!"
Four sharp white beams converged, their power multiplied, instantly blasting apart the web ahead and destroying several more meters beyond.
A wide opening appeared, and without pausing, they leapt through and continued clearing the path.
The elven army surged forward through the breach—straight into the thousand-strong spider force.
From above, spiders attacked relentlessly with webs and venomous stingers.
Legolas, Ellohir, Elladan, and Arwen reacted swiftly, wands flicking spells into the fray.
Arwen moved like a nimble doe, light and quick as though gravity did not touch her, sprinting up a tree trunk in a blur and leaping branch to branch. Wand in one hand, short sword in the other, she danced around the spiders, dodging silk and venom.
No longer the pampered Evenstar princess of Lothlórien and Rivendell, she fought like a true elven warrior—sharp, fast, and decisive. At times, she seemed to hang briefly in midair, twisting to kick a lunging spider down from the treetops.
From behind, Luke watched in awe.
If before she had impressed him with beauty, grace, and nobility—the perfect image of an elven princess—now she revealed another kind of beauty: the beauty of power, radiating decisiveness, courage, and unyielding spirit.
Even Thranduil admired her deeply—though he regretted that she and Legolas had no romantic interest in each other. If she could be his daughter-in-law, he would gladly approve.
Meanwhile, the three male elves fought fiercely as well.
With superb physical skill, reflexes, and magical aid, countless spiders rained down from the treetops.
The other elves fired arrows and struck with weapons, pressing the attack.
Soon the massive spider force began to falter, retreating southward in disarray.
The elven warriors seized the chance, chasing them down and leaving corpses scattered along the way—corpses promptly delivered to Luke by the logistics elves.
Naturally, Luke accepted them all with delight.
He had now gathered enough venom to fill several barrels—plenty for brewing many potions—and an entire spatial pouch crammed with spider bodies.
Still, he wasn't satisfied; such opportunities were rare. Once Sauron and the forces of darkness were defeated, these creatures would become scarce. He needed to stockpile—and the basilisk's growing appetite wasn't small.
The elves pursued the spiders south beyond the Old Forest Road—but the further they went, the harder it became.
The forest and air had been poisoned by the spiders. Trees grew twisted and diseased; soil and leaves reeked of decay; streams carried sleep-inducing magic; and the air was laced with hallucinogenic toxins.
In such an environment, progress was slow.
They had to watch for hidden spiders, fight the haze of toxins, and resist the illusions creeping into their minds.
But they were prepared—each elf took out a scarf soaked in a healer's concoction to ease the effects of the gas.
Luke received one as well; it smelled pleasantly of herbs and cleared his head.
Still, the scarves only mitigated the poison, not eliminated it—so Luke cast a Bubble-Head Charm on himself.
Lifting his staff, he poured magic into it, the green gem at its tip glowing brightly before releasing countless shimmering bubbles. These floated toward the elves, enveloping their heads.
At first, the elves were startled—but soon realized the bubbles filtered the air, leaving only fresh oxygen to breathe.
Seeing his warriors breathing freely, Thranduil was pleased—though when a bubble floated toward him, he subtly pushed it toward the head of his elk mount instead.
"Luke, you've helped us greatly once again," he said.
Luke waved it off, but then noticed Thranduil lacked a bubble.
"Your Majesty, where's your bubble? Shall I give you one?"
"No need," Thranduil replied. "These toxins can't harm me."
He certainly had no intention of wearing such an ungraceful thing on his head.
He was still a king after all...