15. Chapter 15
Legolas made his way across the field and into the woods. He did not lie to her when he said he did not heal as quickly in her world. However, he was not aware that he had hardly healed at all in her human world. He thought he was well enough to make it back home, but it proved to be a challenge. The pain was still quite great and it took every ounce of his energy to make it to the portal. The biting cold wind did not help, even for an Elf who did not respond to such temperatures. He was severely injured and it took its toll on him. However, he could not stay and risk being discovered by this healer. It was too great a risk, which is why he left.
He reached the tree line and absorbed their energy. These trees were not as communicative as the ones in his elven home. Still, he could use what little energy he could from them. His head was pounding and his side ached. As he lifted his shirt, he saw the stitches had begun to tear and he was bleeding again. He kept going.
Soon he was passing the pond. Half way there, he decided to rest and quench his thirst. He sat down on a fallen log next to the water. Leaves blew around the ground and over the top of the pond. He would not be able to visit her world again, not until the trees were full and green. In the winter, there was no place for a wood elf to hide.
Legolas, after feeling slightly refreshed, made his way once again through the woods until he came to a small cluster of cedar trees. The injured Elf stopped and looked around the forest. He would miss coming here. Most of all, he hated leaving her without saying goodbye. It was better this way. He could not stay any longer. Her doctor friend would come in the morning and he could not let his secret be discovered. Legolas had to hide his true identity. He looked every bit like a man except for his pointed ears. There was no way to explain it. Besides, it was against their laws. Under no circumstances were they allowed to expose their identity to any human. He had already taken a risk by staying with the female. He made sure to keep his hair down to cover his ears. There was a close call that first night at her house. She reached for his hair to move it. Legolas knew she was there. He only pretended to be asleep. He panicked when she reached for him. He never meant to hurt her. Elves can sometimes forget their own strength when they are cornered. He thought about her reaction the next day when he held her wrist and whispered a healing prayer. There was a connection between them, if ever so briefly. Legolas knew she felt something too. She pulled away so suddenly. This had never happened before, at least not with a human and definitely not with someone from her world. This puzzled him. More than once did they feel this sensation. He wanted to know more, feel more from her without fear or anxiety. The Elf knew he was breaking their laws by telling her where he was from and how he got here. Still, she enchanted him and he needed her to understand. Somehow, Legolas knew she would accept his story.
The injured Elf took one more look around him and slipped between the cedars. They stood in a tight growing circle looking almost deliberate in their form. Once inside the ring of trees, he said a few words in his native tongue. Instantly, there was a glowing light surrounding him. He closed his eyes, still saying his elvish chant. The light faded and he was no longer in her forest. He was home. The air smelled different here, fresher and cleaner. He breathed deep and smiled. It was good to be back.
On this side of the portal was an archway carved from a solid piece of white wood. All portals were resembled as such. The intricate curving detail was shaped like vines. It stood at least ten feet tall. The archways were a part of an area filled with twists and turns lined with wooden paths. Trees grew all around. Depending on where you wanted to go in the human world also depended on which portal you would take. Each archway was surrounded by the native plants that grew in the area of the portal. This was how the Elves kept track of which one led where.
Legolas looked back at the archway he just passed through. Cedar trees grew on either side of the structure. He smiled and touched the trees, thanking them for safe passage once again.
"There you are." said an angry but worried voice. "Where have you been? You were never supposed to stay away that long. I was beginning to think something happened to…"
"I am sorry Adar." Legolas said to his father.
Thranduil immediately saw the blood soaked tunic and felt his heart rise to his throat. "I knew it. I knew something like this would happen. I have told you time and time again to use the portals carefully. What happened to you son?"
Legolas, not wanting his father to be right, stood tall. "It is merely a flesh wound Adar." he said. As soon as he finished his sentence, he felt light headed and wavered. Thranduil saw this and reached for his son, catching him before he hit the ground. That's when he saw the wound on the back of his head. He immediately called out for a healer and they took him to the healing houses in the city.
They laid him down on the bed and as the healers checked him over, Legolas opened his eyes and looked at his father. "I am sorry Adar. I came back as soon as I could."
"He has been stitched already my lord." said the healer with surprise.
Thranduil looked at his son with a cold stare. "Where did you go and who took care of you?"
A slight smile spread across his thin lips. "She never told me her name." Then he fell into a deep healing sleep.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.