Legolas intercepts Bilbo and the Dwarves when they are lost in Mirkwood.
"Daro!" Legolas cried into the night air. The shuffling sound of heavy boots on fallen leaves stopped.
"Nock your arrows," he whispered to the other elves, reaching into his own quiver and fitting a well-crafted feather to his bowstring. "What business have you in Greenwood?" he demanded, stepping into the clearing.
Never had he imagined he'd face twelve half-starved dwarves, huddling together. Yet there they were. The one in the tattered blue hood looked at him, the muddling effect of spiders' venom clear in his eyes.
"Easy," Legolas said to the guard beside him. "Tie their hands tightly - but not cruelly."