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Title: Bred for War
Author: Evandar
Fandom: The Hobbit
Rating: PG
Genre: Gen
Pairing: Bard/Thranduil preslash
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit and am making no profit from this story.
Summary: Bard's powers come in useful during the Battle of Five Armies.
Author's Notes: Bats! Finally! This is the sequel to Awakening, Vampire and The Beginning of an End. I'm also posting this as a fill to this prompt on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hobbit_kink purely because I can.
He lets his body go, transforming in a second into a swirling cloud of bats. It is an odd sensation: he keeps his single will, but his senses expand outwards into multiple view points. He surges upward into the skies, carrying with him the Elven Prince hanging from many sets of claws. The leader of the Orcs is above them, drawing Oakenshield into what is most likely a trap. He doesn't care about Oakenshield. The Elf Captain who had threatened Thranduil is low on his priorities too, but he has promised himself that he will protect Legolas when Thranduil can't so the Elvenking might have some peace of mind, and if Legolas wants to go to Raven Hill? That is where Bard will take him.
It makes sense, he tells himself. While Legolas is more than capable, and while Thranduil has never actually asked Bard to protect him, he had heard the report Legolas have to his father and the Wizard. Bats, bred for war in Gundabad. There is no real reason why they shouldn't be any different from other creatures of the night; no reason why Bard shouldn't be able to stop them from reaching the battlefield.
"Higher," Legolas calls to him. "Higher, Bard. Can you go faster?"
Bard's only response is a chorus of squeaks as he flaps his wings harder, trying to gain height. Legolas is light - all Elves seem to be - but it is still no easy task.
It's a far easier task depositing the Elf behind the Orc leader. Legolas' weapons are already drawn, and Bard only catches a glimpse of the aftermath from the eyes of just a couple of his bats, but he can smell the blood with ease even as he swarms upwards once more.
He only comes back to himself when he reaches the top of an old watchtower. His bats reform, folding and sliding back into a human shape with ease. His powers seem to work mostly through instinct, and while he has learned much of magic under Thranduil, they do still seem to work best when he doesn't think on them too hard.
He has no time to think here. The sky to the north is growing dark and the magic that flows through his blood surges forth. He can feel it coursing through him, reaching forth to the minds of the bats streaming southward. Their cries are shrill, almost deafening to his ears, and they cry for blood and ruin. There are so many that his command of the weather becomes unnecessary the moment they reach him: their bodies blot out the sky entirely.
They are big, and fast, and there are so many of them that, for one horrible moment, he thinks he might fail in his task. But then he thinks of Thranduil fighting in the valley below, of his children and their bravery - Bain fighting to defend his sisters, killing for the first time - and he remembers that failure is the last of his options. He would die before accepting it. He will die, if that is the only way.
For the first time in years, he releases his hold on the weather and let's sunlight stream through the clouds. The bats protect him, and with the energy he has just released, he doubled his efforts in dragging them under his control. They resist, but he perseveres, and one by one they fall under his spell.
He pulls them in towards the tower, shielding himself. They swirl about him, slaves to his will, squeaking in confusion instead of wrath. The stench of their bodies is unimaginable, but even over that, he knows when the Orcs arrive.
Nothing, he has learned, smells quite as vile as an Orc.
Over the squeaking, over the hurricane of wings, he hears Legolas call his name, and he raises his hand in response. There is no way that Legolas, even with his perfect Elven sight, can see the gesture; it's not intended for him.
His movement sends the bats into a flurry of movement. Their column soars upwards at his unspoken command, and they turn as one to the north and to the army that is streaming over the ruined battlements.
Bard is going to give them all the blood they crave. And if, as they feast upon the Orcs who were their allies, the sunlight reaches him... Better he die alone than there be any more casualties amongst Elves or Men.
Author: Evandar
Fandom: The Hobbit
Rating: PG
Genre: Gen
Pairing: Bard/Thranduil preslash
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit and am making no profit from this story.
Summary: Bard's powers come in useful during the Battle of Five Armies.
Author's Notes: Bats! Finally! This is the sequel to Awakening, Vampire and The Beginning of an End. I'm also posting this as a fill to this prompt on
hobbit_kink purely because I can.He lets his body go, transforming in a second into a swirling cloud of bats. It is an odd sensation: he keeps his single will, but his senses expand outwards into multiple view points. He surges upward into the skies, carrying with him the Elven Prince hanging from many sets of claws. The leader of the Orcs is above them, drawing Oakenshield into what is most likely a trap. He doesn't care about Oakenshield. The Elf Captain who had threatened Thranduil is low on his priorities too, but he has promised himself that he will protect Legolas when Thranduil can't so the Elvenking might have some peace of mind, and if Legolas wants to go to Raven Hill? That is where Bard will take him.
It makes sense, he tells himself. While Legolas is more than capable, and while Thranduil has never actually asked Bard to protect him, he had heard the report Legolas have to his father and the Wizard. Bats, bred for war in Gundabad. There is no real reason why they shouldn't be any different from other creatures of the night; no reason why Bard shouldn't be able to stop them from reaching the battlefield.
"Higher," Legolas calls to him. "Higher, Bard. Can you go faster?"
Bard's only response is a chorus of squeaks as he flaps his wings harder, trying to gain height. Legolas is light - all Elves seem to be - but it is still no easy task.
It's a far easier task depositing the Elf behind the Orc leader. Legolas' weapons are already drawn, and Bard only catches a glimpse of the aftermath from the eyes of just a couple of his bats, but he can smell the blood with ease even as he swarms upwards once more.
He only comes back to himself when he reaches the top of an old watchtower. His bats reform, folding and sliding back into a human shape with ease. His powers seem to work mostly through instinct, and while he has learned much of magic under Thranduil, they do still seem to work best when he doesn't think on them too hard.
He has no time to think here. The sky to the north is growing dark and the magic that flows through his blood surges forth. He can feel it coursing through him, reaching forth to the minds of the bats streaming southward. Their cries are shrill, almost deafening to his ears, and they cry for blood and ruin. There are so many that his command of the weather becomes unnecessary the moment they reach him: their bodies blot out the sky entirely.
They are big, and fast, and there are so many of them that, for one horrible moment, he thinks he might fail in his task. But then he thinks of Thranduil fighting in the valley below, of his children and their bravery - Bain fighting to defend his sisters, killing for the first time - and he remembers that failure is the last of his options. He would die before accepting it. He will die, if that is the only way.
For the first time in years, he releases his hold on the weather and let's sunlight stream through the clouds. The bats protect him, and with the energy he has just released, he doubled his efforts in dragging them under his control. They resist, but he perseveres, and one by one they fall under his spell.
He pulls them in towards the tower, shielding himself. They swirl about him, slaves to his will, squeaking in confusion instead of wrath. The stench of their bodies is unimaginable, but even over that, he knows when the Orcs arrive.
Nothing, he has learned, smells quite as vile as an Orc.
Over the squeaking, over the hurricane of wings, he hears Legolas call his name, and he raises his hand in response. There is no way that Legolas, even with his perfect Elven sight, can see the gesture; it's not intended for him.
His movement sends the bats into a flurry of movement. Their column soars upwards at his unspoken command, and they turn as one to the north and to the army that is streaming over the ruined battlements.
Bard is going to give them all the blood they crave. And if, as they feast upon the Orcs who were their allies, the sunlight reaches him... Better he die alone than there be any more casualties amongst Elves or Men.
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no subject
Date: 2015-01-10 10:22 pm (UTC)From:Hooray, the Legolas-dangling-from-a-bat scene makes sense in your universe!
And just. Bard is entirely made of dark magic and protective impulses at this point and this is such a delicious combination.
....more? ^.^
(have put up sketch!)
no subject
Date: 2015-01-10 11:19 pm (UTC)From:Legolas' fight scenes are ridiculous, so I couldn't resist.
Someone needs to talk about him about his desire to be in Assassin's Creed, though.And, of course, it gave me an excuse to do the turning-into-bats bit as well as just controlling them.I love writing Bard like this. I love writing him anyway, but there's something about this verse which is getting addictive.
...yes. All the yes. Thranduil and Gandalf next, methinks.
no subject
Date: 2015-01-10 11:46 pm (UTC)From:Yay!! And yes, addictive~
no subject
Date: 2015-01-11 09:28 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2015-01-11 12:05 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2015-01-11 09:25 pm (UTC)From: