It was very early in the morning. The sun was still a long way from rising and the sky was the colour of deepest navy blue. The whole landscape was covered in a blanket of white snow and it was quiet, except for the low murmur of a few elves exchanging information about all that was yet to come this year.

'lhingril, pen-nediad' (spiders, innumerable) said one Elf angrily, brushing snow off a rotten tree trunk. There were black spiders everywhere under the snow, somewhat resembling tarantulas. However, they were smaller and had a shiny, smooth carapace. He looked rather doubtful. Should he feel disgust or see the spiders as fascinating? As he wanted to share his discovery with the other elves, he called out to his friend. 'Inglor tolo, lim (come, quickly).' Another Elf (Inglor) quickly went to his friend and realised what was going on. He examined the spiders thoroughly with his eyes. He had actually never seen anything like it before, although he had seen many things. He drew his eyebrows together and made a rather doubtful expression. Ingor heard Thranduil call out his friend's name: 'Aglarond! You are needed.' Aglarond turned round and disappeared. Inglor stood alone next to the spiders. He came closer and closer to them and now knelt down next to the tree stump. He came closer and closer to them and now knelt down next to the tree stump. He wanted to reach out for one of the spiders, but suddenly he heard a loud, unintelligible scream. He flinched and pulled his hand away in fright. Nervously, he looked round.

An elven woman ran towards him and shouted 'baw!' several times. That was the elvish word for not. The Elf froze in shock and did not move. She stopped beside him and looked in disgust at the spiders sitting on the tree trunk. She moved a few centimetres away from the tree stump as if she felt a certain aversion to the spiders and clasped her hands behind her back.

The Elf still stared suspiciously at the spiders, which appeared to be peaceful creatures before, but the spiders did not fit in with the surroundings. How could it be that they could survive in such cold weather? Why had the elf frightened him so much in the first place? Nothing bad had happened, had it? The Elf was a little confused. So many questions were floating around in his head and there would probably be no answers to some of them. The Elf began to speak, 'Sorry for scaring you, but these spiders are highly poisonous. You were damn lucky they didn't attack you! There's no real cure for the poison at the moment. If you are bitten by a spider, you won't have any symptoms that indicate poisoning for the first time, but the spider's venom will take your mind away for a long time.

At some point, you will no longer really be awake and you will no longer really be yourself. You will forget many things now. Maybe even your own name. A few days later, you'll be paralysed and won't be able to move. At some point you will fall into a kind of sleep and will probably never wake up again. However, there is a remedy that delays or alleviates the symptoms. It is called Eryn-nen and is also known as forest water.' She now looked back towards the spiders and then anxiously at her wrist. Slowly she pulled up her sleeve. There were two small, red bite marks on her wrist. 'I was bitten two days ago. ' she said quietly. I was on watch outside and wasn't paying enough attention. I only saw a small spider on my wrist and thought it was harmless. I shooed it off my wrist with my free hand. But then I only felt a short sharp pain and a few seconds later I saw bloody marks on my wrist. At the end of my shift, I went to the healers in  Mirkwood and enquired with them. 

They told me everything they have learned so far about the spiders and their deadly poison." She seemed a little sadder now than before. Inglor looked at the spiders even more suspiciously. He moved away from them, and was now quite disgusted and frightened by them. So a few seconds passed: "Well," she said in a happier tone, as if her mood had suddenly changed, "maybe the healers of Mirkwood will find a real antidote. They have been working on it for days and are investigating a wide variety of plants and their effects. No one knows where these spiders come from, and no one had ever seen them here. Strange.

They would either have to come from far away or belong to a new species that is settling here faster and faster. In the search for an antidote, therefore, one cannot rely on old knowledge, but must gather new knowledge. This essentially makes everything more difficult. But luckily I have Eryn-nen. From a pocket she pulled out a small, round bottle that was closed with a cork. In the bottle was a white flower that looked very much like a hydrangea. Around the flower was a slightly greenish, clear liquid. She sighed briefly, but then she smiled a little. She seemed to be charged with new hope, but her attitude was a little optimistic. She stroked her head with one hand. In the meantime, many snowflakes had settled on her black hair and helmet. She turned and walked away quietly.

She stroked her head with one hand. In the meantime, many snowflakes had settled on her black hair and helmet. She turned and walked away quietly. Other elves had now gathered in a crowd around the tree stump to see what was there and why they had just heard such loud screaming. But then Thranduil walked to the elves and examined the spiders. He knew how dangerous they were and told the elves who had gathered around the stump to leave immediately. Then he went back a few meters. The elf was still standing by the tree stump. He wondered if he couldn't just kill the spiders. So they were gone and could not attack any more elves. But then he was torn out of his thoughts.

 "Lumiel, Inglor," Thranduil's voice boomed out of the darkness. "Get back in the ranks immediately and make sure we don't waste too much time." Elwing, that wasn't an invitation!" Thranduil scolded another elf who was talking to other elves. Thranduil moved further and further away and his voice became quieter and quieter.

The elves were now all standing in a forest clearing, through which a small stream made its way. Everywhere on the ground there were long, thick roots that belonged to the old, shady Mirkwood trees. You could see almost nothing if it weren't for the moon, which bathed everything in a mysterious, white light. The moon also shone on the snowflakes that fell slowly like feathers from the sky. But clouds were gathering faster and faster. The clouds lay over the sky like a gray veil. After a few seconds, the moon was immersed in a large group of clouds. You could hardly see your own hand in front of your eyes. Not even the light of the stars, which the elves coveted very much, could help them. But they still managed to find their way around and get their act together. After some time, they stood close to each other, but structured. 

Thranduil stood before the army of Elves. In his hand he held a torch, which made it easier for him to see and gave him a little warmth. He suddenly felt quite powerful and big, but on the other hand also insecure and anxious. He was stared at expectantly by the elves who had gathered. There was silence for a few minutes and you could only hear the babbling of the stream, the crackling of the torch and a few owl cries echoed through the dark night. It was time for him to give a speech and explain everything again. He began to speak loudly. "Elves, we have gathered today to move to Mordor.  Our journey will be long and dangerous, but I hope you have enough provisions with you. We will march over the Mirkwood Mountains to the old forest road. From there we hike past Dolguldur to the end of Mirkwood. Once we have passed it, we take a one-day rest and march across the brown lands, through the dead swamps to Minas Morgul. We stay there for a few days and prepare. After that, we will continue our mission. We will take Mordor within seven days and make it our territory. If anyone still has something against me, then he can speak out now." It was quiet for a short moment. "Very good," he said, blowing his horn and swinging onto his gigantic moose. He left the torch on a smooth stone. It slowly went out and bright gray smoke emanated from it.

Thranduil's moose trotted leisurely in front of the elven armies. He was only interested in the shrubs that grew along the roadsides and the mosses and lichens that could be found in Mirkwood at this time of year. The moose had magnificent antlers of enormous size. Thranduil had adorned it with many gems and other trinkets. The moose was the symbol of Thranduil and his rule over Mirkwood. It was an extraordinarily beautiful, but at the same time strong, powerful mount. Slowly they rode on. Partly completely unaware of the dark forces that are at play in Mordor. They rode through the deep darkness of Mirkwood. The trees were bare, old and gnarled and various climbing plants grew all over them. The dangerous, but at the same time mysterious darkness of the night made them seem even more frightening than during the day. 

The path was narrow and overgrown. Ice had formed all over the floor. It was difficult to progress, but Thranduil did not abandon the mission. After a few hours of walking, which they had marched non-stop, the sun rose. Now pink and partly red shreds stretched across the ice-blue sky and the sun gave them its first rays. But the treetops swallowed up most of the sunlight and it was almost as dark as at night. The elves wandered silently along the small, stony paths that led through Mirkwood. But then the forest slowly thinned out and smaller thorn bushes grew lushly, but they were quite bare and inconspicuous at this time of year. There were dead trees, branches and twigs everywhere. This section of the forest looked like it was a huge debris field. Thranduil stopped for a moment and paused. Then he knelt and picked up some splinters of wood that were lying around with his fingers.  "The wood seems fresh," he said, looking at the small splinters of wood in his hand. "Sedhgir mi sîdh", (rests in peace), he said, looking at the remains of the trees again. He felt heaviness and deep sadness within him. He had been coming here for many thousands of years, for Mirkwood had once been truly beautiful, this place in particular. But as Sauron sought power over Middle-earth, Mirkwood became a dark place. The Mirkwood had become a little brighter now and more and more animals felt comfortable in it again, but Thranduil still didn't really like it, as he had seen many strange things in the last few days. For example, more and more spiders settled in the caves and niches of Mirkwood, and dark plants with deep roots grew everywhere, which had simply sprung up out of nowhere.

It felt as if the darkness and cold were returning and struggling for power again. Everywhere on the ground lay broken trunks and several fragments of twigs. The trees were once huge with golden yellow crowns that always provided plenty of shade in summer. Thranduil had always talked a lot with the trees of this whale poem (Yes, elves loved to talk to trees) The trees had told him stories and he had told them. They had given him advice, but also peace and quiet. The stones at this place also told much more than those in the Mirkwood Mountains. In the past, the place always seemed as if it were alive, as if the stones had been much more than just ordinary stones. Now only stones lay smashed and scattered on the ground and some ice crystals had settled on them. There was certainly a lot of powerful magic in this place, which the humans and elves still didn't really understand. Thranduil had also been here often with his family. They had often made fires here or talked to trees and stones for hours. But that was all over a thousand years ago now, and thinking about it made Thranduil even sadder. 

 He quickly tried to think of something else that could cheer him up, but he was still overwhelmed with sadness. Dejected, he swept back onto his moose and gave the command to go on. The elves had been wandering for one or two hours now. Slowly a wind was now roaring. The sky became whiter and whiter and more and more snow. The wind had brought a snowstorm with it. Numerous snowflakes from the sky are falling faster and faster. The cold wind burned Thranduil's face, turning it slightly red. Snowflakes adorned the antlers of his moose. Thranduil was still pondering silently and sadly. He stroked his fingers absent-mindedly over the antlers of his moose. A thick layer of snow had formed on it. Thranduil hoped that the snow would stop soon, because snow usually brings with it a greater danger. Quietly, the elves began to sing:

 "With great courage and zest for action, we continue to advance.Who knows what can await us in the distance?

Our future is written in the stars, it can bear fruit or spoil. Maybe we'll die too.

But hadn't we foreseen it? Will we fare darkly in the future? Does Thranduil still have reason or are we sinking into the Swam "Stop", Thranduil roared "-p", the elves sang. He had broken the boring silence among the elves "No one should doubt me and my decisions, unless he wants to spend the next hundred years of his life in the darkness of the dungeons" His silence was hard to understand because of the snow, but everyone felt the darkness in it.

The path now became muddier and more slippery and above all steep and rocky. Many elves slipped or stumbled, but they had to get up quickly so that other elves wouldn't trip over them. Slowly and laboriously they made progress, but then something came that they had not expected. The trail ended in a small ledge. In front of the elves lay a huge sea of rocks and scree. It stretched like a gray stone armor over the hills and valleys of the Mirkwood Mountains. The sea was created a little longer ago by the orcs and trolls. From DolGuldur they came to the Mirkwood Mountains. Many of their beasts were much too heavy and caused a huge rock slide when crossing the mountains. But since other orcs still wanted to cross the mountains after this landslide, they caused even more devastation and damage with their beasts. In the course of time, a sea of stones was formed. On the one hand, Thranduil was happy that he had finally reached the Mirkwood Mountains, but on the other hand, they had already overcome so many obstacles in the short distance. Fate was probably not on the side of the Elves, but on which one then? Many of the rocks were sharp-edged and porous. But they still had to cross the sea of rocks. Some elves still hesitated, but the first jumped quickly and skillfully over the large rocks.

Thranduil's moose also had an amazingly good grip on the rocks. The snowstorm became more and more intense and powerful. More and more snow fell from the sky and adorned the rocky landscape with it: the branches of the trees hung low and threatened to break under the weight of the snow. Nevertheless, Thranduil was not deterred by the forces of nature and rode on, although it would be wiser to wait until the snow had stopped.

The path over the Felsenmeer was a fight against the forces of nature. They made slow progress, but they were all the more relieved when they made it. Many elves fell and got their feet stuck in the crevices of the gigantic stone plateaus. Therefore, some more fearful elves preferred to work their way more slowly, but after some time the stones became smaller and smaller until they were as large as ordinary pebbles. The landscape now became greener and much flatter. 

Snow-covered pastures and fields spread over the slopes and valleys. Here and there grew smaller groups of firs and other conifers. It was now much easier to move forward. They had made it, but much more than they wanted to believe was still ahead of them. The elves now walked a very steep path, which was carved into the mountains a long time ago. The path stretched over rocks and meadows and stretched over the entire Mirkwood Mountains.

After a few minutes, Thranduil had a bad feeling. There was silence, a treacherous long silence. And not only because elves have a very easy gait and hardly make any noise. In the smaller groups of trees, however, a slight rustling could sometimes be heard, which was caused by falling branches or animals. Thranduil rode further ahead. Long, silent minutes passed. The unbearable silence dragged on for a long time. But suddenly, when they had arrived at a steeper part of the path, he heard strange grinding noises and a soft roar in the distance. This made him very thoughtful and worried, but before he could make a decision, everything happened very quickly. Before he could even comprehend what was happening, a huge avalanche of snow slid towards the elves. With all her white splendour, she came closer to them in a matter of seconds. Many, including Thranduil, were able to save themselves by quickly fighting their way through the masses of snow and thus escaping the avalanche.

The others were knocked over by the force of the avalanche, swept away and buried under a thick, white blanket of snow. Thranduil sent all the guards who had escaped to track down the others. He tried to save some elves by clearing away the snow with a smaller snow shovel and his hands. Some elves told him that they could do this task on their own. Instead, he should rest, because he has to lead and lead her mission for the next few days. And so he found shelter under a huge fir tree during that time. The fir tree had huge branches that were pushed down by the weight of the snow.

 It wasn't warm under the fir tree, but it was more sheltered from the wind and hardly any snow came through the green fir branches. He murmured a song softly to himself and chewed on a piece of Lembas bread with relish. His breath smoked as he ate and his hands were numb. His mount was tired from the long march. In order not to burden the animal, he dismounted and carefully brushed the snow from the animal's antlers. The animal lay down calmly and rested. Thranduil followed suit and sat down next to the moose. After a while he fell asleep next to the moose, leaning against the tree trunk.