Out of Reality: Part XI
by Alexandra
-----

Adalia woke up early the next morning and watched as Legolas departed with Gimli from the city. She stood back from the crowd and looked on silently, not sure how she felt. When Legolas had spotted her in the crowd, she swiftly turned and departed, not wanting to look at him. She spent much of her time in the Houses of Healing, learning more of the art. She received a certain gratification from knowing she was healing those that came in with injuries. But when she lost someone, she had a deep sense of remorse and depression. How the doctors in her world did it every day, she did not know.

Little by little she became more depressed as she shrunk inside herself. She wanted to be impenetrable, act as if her life hadn’t been run through a shredder. But no matter how hard she tried; she began to fall in a downward spiral. She spoke rarely, mainly only to those who needed comfort when she healed. Smiles were even less frequent. She missed her home. All of her batteries were long since dead, her bullets gone. Her CD’s were even used for archery practice. Saying she was forlorn or melancholy was an understatement.

Adalia wanted to pull out of the pit of despair she had sunk into. But as the years passed, her efforts were fruitless. Time wore on and she wore away before everyone’s eyes. Aragorn had tried to talk to her about it one day; he still tried to speak with her on a regular basis, knowing of her love for Legolas. She had pushed him away, seeking solitude. Aragorn went straight to his study after that. It had been nearly a decade since Legolas was last in the city, and he was determined to bring the elf back. He wrote out a note and bade one of his messengers to take it to Mirkwood.

“Ride with all haste, and make sure my insistence on this is noted,” he instructed. “He must return for I fear the worst.” The messenger bowed and ran to the stables.



Legolas smiled at the story told by one of the elves near him. He laughed with everyone else and took a sip of his wine, savoring the taste. He noted with interest that one of the servants came in and whispered hurriedly to Thranduil. The king nodded and looked at Legolas, silently asking him to come with.

The two excused themselves from the feast, promising to return quickly. They came into one of the side chambers where a human messenger stood. The man bowed deeply, before handing over some parchment to the king, Aragorn’s seal on it.

“King Elessar requests the presence of the elven prince of Mirkwood,” stated the man formally.

Legolas held up his hand. “What is wrong? Speak to me plainly.”

The man nodded and waited for a few moments as Thranduil passed the paper to his son, his expression hard. “It is the Lady Adalia sir. His Majesty is worried about her.”

Legolas’ heart went to his throat as he read the paper and heard the words. He himself had not been much better off in the past decade. All could tell he seemed thinner, his movements not as fluid. “Why would this concern me?” he asked haughtily, his bitterness from their last meeting rising to the surface.

The messenger bowed his head. “I do not know the king’s will. But he made sure that I tell you of how adamant he is on your coming. I have seen the lady myself sir. She is but a shadow of what she once was. I do not see why the king has not acted earlier.”

Legolas stared at the paper again, reading over Aragorn’s words. All he had felt from years passed came up and he looked up resolutely. “Ready my horse. I leave within the hour.”



Adalia sighed and sat back on her heels. Her patient was now sleeping quietly, the bleeding in his leg stopped. She glanced through one of the windows and noticed that the sun was starting to drop below the horizon. She stood up, ready to make her way back to the palace. A commotion outside drew her attention to the main room. She wearily walked through the hall to see what was the problem and stopped dead in her tracks. An elf stood there, blood pouring from an open shoulder wound. In his arms, he held another elf with an open head wound and his tunic was soaked with blood. He was unconscious. Adalia gasped at the sight of the fair elven prince Legolas in such a state.

Adalia searched her mind for the other elf’s name, following them down the hall. They went into a side room and Legolas was laid down on the bed. “Giliath!” exclaimed Adalia, the name coming to her.

The elf turned and his eyes widened when he saw Adalia. The messenger had been right; she was but a shadow of what she once was. “Lady Adalia!”

She moved over to him and gently took his arm, leading him to the other side of the room. Peeling away the slashed material of his tunic, Adalia began to clean the golden-haired elf’s wound. “What happened?” she asked quietly.

“We had received a message from Lord Aragorn,” Giliath explained. “He bade us come quickly and Prince Legolas resolved to leave in the morning. I left with him and when we were only four days ride away, one of the last bands of orcs attacked us. In the end we prevailed, but we were both wounded.”

“At least the blades weren’t poisoned,” she said, binding the wound.

Giliath nodded. “It was fortunate for us. We feared there were more orcs about, so we did not waste time in trying to heal ourselves, we only rode here. Legolas fell unconscious yesterday. I was surprised he held out as long as he did for his wounds are grievous.”

Adalia nodded and looked over his shoulder, seeing only the backs of the healers, crowded around the bed. “Why were you coming here?”

Giliath looked at her. He ran his eyes over her brown hair, now streaked with silver. Her face seemed sunken in, her eyes not as life filled as what he remembered from the brief time he had spent with her. “We were coming for you.”

Adalia’s hands fumbled with the bandages. She looked up sharply at him.

“What?”

“Forgive me for saying, but you do not seem to be yourself. Lord Aragorn saw this and he sent a message to us. He was deeply worried for you and I can see why. When Legolas heard the message, he ordered his horse readied immediately. I do not know what took place between you years ago, but I would think he had placed that behind him.”

Adalia dropped her hands to her lap and she looked over at the bed once again. The two stood up and walked over to Legolas’ side, watching as Hyrothas pressed a cloth over his bare stomach.

“The wound is too deep,” Hyrothas said. “I can’t close it yet. Adalia come here and press this cloth against the wound, it should help to slow the bleeding.” Adalia was going to protest, but swallowed the words at Hyrothas’ look. “I’ll be in to check on him later, call for me if he wakens.”

Adalia nodded and pressed her hand against the already bloody cloth. She looked up at Legolas’ peaceful face, a bandage wrapped around his head. She looked up at Giliath. “Will you be all right?”

The elf nodded. “Thank you for taking care of my wound. I shall return as well to check on the prince. Meanwhile, I must go speak with Lord Aragorn.” The elf bowed and left, leaving Adalia alone with the unconscious Legolas.

It must have been a hard battle for him to be so injured. She turned her gaze to the blood soaked tunic that rested on a chair. She grabbed a fresh cloth off of a shelf and replaced it against the wound on his stomach.

Their last fight came to her and she wished they hadn’t departed on such terms. She knew that she had become depressed because of him, something she had vowed that would never happen. She shook her head, wondering what would happen when he awoke.

Sitting in a chair, she rested her head on her arm that held the cloth in place. She closed her eyes, and set herself to sleep. She only slept though, when she was sure that he was going to be all right.



Legolas could feel pain in his head. He knew he was wounded. The last thing he had remembered was riding hard for the city; himself and Giliath possibly pursued by orcs. He didn’t know where he was and whether he was among friends or enemies. He wished to know either way and opened his eyes.

He couldn’t have been more surprised if he had been in the presence of the Valar. Adalia was asleep, holding a bloody cloth to the wound on his stomach. His heart nearly broke, seeing her. She looked tired and worn, nearly consumed from within by her grief.

“Adalia,” he whispered, stirring slightly.

She woke instantly, her eyes meeting Legolas’. She couldn’t stop the smile that rose to her face at seeing him awake. “How do you feel?” she asked immediately.

He shrugged, though winced as the muscles in his stomach tightened. “Stiff. My head hurts as well.”

Adalia stood up and moved to the others side of the room, mixing up some sort of drink. She came back over and handed him a goblet. “Drink this and it should help.”

He nodded and drank the liquid. The pain in his head flared up before dissipating, nearly disappearing. “You have learned much of the healing ways,” he commented, sitting up slightly.

Adalia shrugged and put the goblet next to her on the table. “Got to do something while I’m here, no sense in my being useless.”

They fell silent for a moment, before he reached out and took her head. “Lindor,” he began. He fought for the right words to say. “I am sorry for anything I have done to you. I wish I had not left that day. I wish I had stayed by your side.”

She stared at their clasped hands, not sure how to take it. “I wish you had as well,” she responded. She looked up at him. “I missed you luchador.”

He grinned at his nickname. “I missed you as well.” She moved to hug him, but he stopped her, capturing her lips in a kiss. When he pulled away, he whispered, “I missed how you make me feel.”

Adalia didn’t want to cry, but tears stung her eyes anyway. “I as well Legolas. I as well.”



Hyrothas and Giliath both came into the room a few seconds later. Adalia had the suspicion that they had been watching them. She smiled inwardly as Hyrothas examined the elven prince’s wound. The healer muttered to herself and began to bind it.

“Giliath,” spoke Legolas, holding out his hand. “It is good to see you walking around.”

Giliath clasped hands with the prince. “It is even better to see you conscious. You had me worried for a time there.”

Legolas smiled. “Well, that time has passed. Have you spoken to Aragorn?”

“Indeed he has,” said the king as he stepped into the room. “Giliath told me about what happened last night. I am glad that you are here Legolas.” He flashed the elf a meaningful glance.

“As am I,” he responded. “It is good to see you old friend.”

Aragorn nodded with a smile. “We will hold a feast tonight, in honor of your return. Once of course the good healer allows you to leave.”

Hyrothas looked up. “Who am I to contend with an elf on the matter of healing? I was only in charge while he was not conscious. He is free to leave when he feels fit, though I would recommend he wait while we finish binding his wounds.”

“Nonsense,” began Legolas. “I can take care of my injuries.” Hyrothas stared him down. “You will do no such thing. Now stay here while I go get some more bandages.”

She left the room, Giliath and Aragorn both followed while laughing. Adalia smiled and sat on the edge of the bed. She reached up and took off the bandage around his head, checking the cut there.

Legolas watched her movements, his eyes examining her features. She seemed older than her years. He wished he could have those years back; back so he could spend them with her. “Will you be at the feast?”

Her eyes met his for a moment before concentrating on what she was doing. “I believe so. Do you want me to be there?”

“Of course I want you to be there,” he answered, catching her hand within his own. “I want to forget everything that happened years ago Adalia. I didn’t know what I was losing.”

She smiled and squeezed his hand. “I want to forget it too.”

Hyrothas came back in, making as much noise as possible. After she wrapped bandages around Legolas’ stomach, she said he could go “You know most likely as much as healing as I do. There is not much more I can do for you.”

“You have done more than enough,” he answered, carefully standing.

“Thank you.” The healer nodded and left the room. Legolas then spotted his blood soaked tunic on one of the chairs. Grimacing, he picked it up. “I believe this is ruined,” he said with a slight smile.

Adalia grinned. “You could say that. Come on, I’ll walk with you to the palace.”


| Part XII |
| Index |