Title: I' Mal Lasse(The Golden Leaf)
Chapter 1: Fair Stranger
Author: Ista of the Dreamers
Rating: G-PG . . . I guess
Disclaimer: I do not own Legolas or any of the other characters J.R.R. Tolkien created in the Lord of the Rings.....darn. But the character of Kira Aparathon is mine.
Stuff: I have written LOTR parodies, but this was the first fic I ever wrote for my friends who are obsessed with Legolas, on screen and off. Personally, I go for the hobbit type! :) Feedback/comments/ reviews are welcome either by email or on ff.net Just tell me what you think! :) Thank you for reading this!

I' Mal Lasse(The Golden Leaf)
My home is quite beautiful, really, spread over the hills and rocky landscape by trees, tall and scented with the wild. I have always lived in the wild for as long as I can remember, since my mother died, and my father left to find help for her. He never came back and I buried my mother a little ways away from our small home, grave covered in lilacs and sheltered from the wind.

I had been alone ever since I was ten, and in those fifteen years that had passed since I was ten, I had seen naught a living soul, save for the birds, beetles, and small animals on the ground and in the air. A thought that was often on my mind was whether I should leave my home and go looking for others like me: humans, but the minute I start
walking, an overpowering fear catches my breath, and I cannot go on. It is fear that keeps me forever sheltered and always alone. I am afraid what I will find if I go out looking for my father. I could find him in another house, married, with several children, and I would be able to forgive him and walk away, but I am afraid that if I did look for him, I would find another marker: His grave.

I know not of the forest in which I live and where I was born, but I do know that where I live is called middle-earth. In that land, magical creatures thrive and co-exist. My father used to tell me tales of many fair lands and enormous cities where many races lived together, but I had never seen a magical creature before. I did not care to see one, really, because I was afraid of them. I was not used to strangers for I had never met one in the forest, and if the time ever came that I happened to come upon one, I was sure that I would be scared out of my wits, and run as fast as I could back to my home.

One day I put the kettle on for some tea, and proceeded to wrap extra blankets around my body because the weather had turned crisp. Winter was coming on, and I had already developed a nasty cold. The withered leaves and flowers in my garden seemed to be giving a last call of silent distress before the frost devoured them, and I was feeling gloomy.

Suddenly I caught something with my eye out of the only window in my earthly hut. It was a golden leaf, shining quite brightly in the early afternoon day. Even though the sky was gray and bleak, sunlight poured out of the little golden leaf, different to its kin. I stood transfixed. I could not get the image of the leaf falling to the ground out of my mind. I had to pick it up.

So that is how I saw the man walking in the distance, leaves falling all around him. He walked as someone in a dream walks, but to his form and spirit, the movement seemed contradictory; backwards. His figure was very small in the distance, but as he walked, it became clear that this man was not my father, but a stranger.

Fear instantly took its hold on me. I could not think, but merely rushed inside to hide, though as I peered out of the window at the man approaching, I knew it was no use. He had already seen my home and was walking straight towards it. There was only one thing to do now. I grabbed my father's sword in its sheath, hoisted it up to my knee, for it was quite heavy, then bundled up and went out into the cold.

I waited under the awning of my little house for the man to approach, and when he was near enough to me, I shouted. It was strange hear my own voice.

"Don't come any closer! What is your business here?"

The man kept walking, much to my horror, and didn't seem to pay any attention to my shrieking threats, even though they were half hearted. When he came ten feet to me, he stopped, and I drew my sword, pointing it at him fearfully.

"Don't move," I said, voice quavering. "Tell me who you are and what is your business?"

The man shuddered now and I could look at his frame more closely. He wore light clothes for that late time in fall, and they were shades of green. He was tall with striking features, and long, smooth, blond hair. His fine face looked pale and dull with no shining eyes. He apparently hadn't heard me, but I could see what he was carrying on his back.

"Drop your weapons, please, sir."

He didn't respond for quite some time until finally, his stiff arm moved, and his bow and arrows dropped to a heap on the ground. The lines of weariness on his face covered his true youth, I guessed, because without them, he looked to be my age.

"Who are you?" I asked him slowly.

He mumbled something.

"What? Speak up!"

He seemed to be remembering something, and he spoke little, his words not addressed to me, I guessed, obviously, because I could not understand them.

"Mori onta . . . Dolen dae . . . Gorga."

"What are you saying?"

He looked at me. "Amin sintalle?"

"What?"

"Amin . . . N'uma rina."

I stepped forward cautiously. "I don't know what you're saying. What language is that?"

He shook his head, and again, shuddered. Touching his head, he bowed.

"What is your name?" I asked again.

His voice was like frost in the air. "I don't know."

"So you can speak!" I exclaimed and then tightened the grip on my sword. Who was this strange man, and why was he not giving me the one thing I needed to know? His name.

"What do you mean you don't know?" I asked him, my voice growing shrill.

He stared at the ground for a moment, and then slowly looked
up, eyes narrowing in confusion.

"I-I can't remember."

Then he picked up his pack of arrows and strung his bow before I could even blink.

"You will not capture me!" he yelled.

Now I was confused. My breath came quickly, palms sweating as I rushed toward the man and heaved my sword to fend off the arrow, but before I could deliver the blow, he crumpled to his knees, bow dropping lifeless back to the ground.

"I'm sorry," he cried now, over and over. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

The sword fell from my hands now too, and an overwhelming rush of pity seeped into my bones, a deep sadness, like a nocturnal morning, or the death of a great king.

"It's all right," I said, my voice now as soft as snow, but warm as June. "You must be hurt, sir, or something is wrong with you if you do not know your own name. From where did you come?"

He shook his head, holding back glass tears.

I knelt down to him and took his hand in mine. "I was frightened of you because I have never met another person before in a long time."

"Neither have I," he said, "that I can remember."

I smiled. "Then we are very much alike. I shall take you inside for some tea to warm you, and then we shall try and figure out who you are."

He nodded weakly and I squeezed his icy hand in mine. I supported the fair young man squarely in my arms until we entered the cozy hut, then I seated him in a chair and bundled him in blankets. Leaving him for a few moments, I raced outside, stooping to pick up his discarded pack of bows and arrows, examining them. I was astounded at the craftsmanship and the exquisite carving of each and every silver shaft, every curve of his bow as well. My stranger was someone of importance, I feared, and I did not know his name. Walking in and out of the light fall of rain, I read the initials carved once on each arrow: L.G. I did not know what the letters stood for. His name, perhaps? but hoped to find out, and tucked the arrows safely in their pouch for later use.

I smiled kindly at my stranger when I returned, but he did not seem to notice me, and stared at the wall as if he could see the trees through it.

"Would you like to rest?" I asked him now softly, a little unsure of what to say to him.

He shook his head. "No. Tea."

"Green tea?"

He nodded.

It was all a very awkward experience for me. I dare say that if I had come across a woman stranger instead of a man, I would have been more comfortable, partly because we'd have more to talk about, and more to relate to. I had been taught proper manners and the rule of conversation as a child, but I had never had anyone to practice them on, and now that I was faced with someone, I was afraid that if I made the slightest mistake, I would be made to look the fool. Unfortunately as I had feared, my nervousness caused me to break two cups before I even reached the table. When I got there, I nearly dropped his saucer in his lap, but he steadied my hand and brought the steaming cup to his lips, sighing. His strength seemed to grow.

"Thank you," he said slowly, dark eyes flashing to mine. "I must repay you for your kindness."

"A blanket and a cup of tea is hardly what I would call kindness, sir," said I, but his compliment had pleased me inwardly and I blushed.

"I must leave," he said, "for I feel that it is urgent to do so."

"But you don't know who you are," I said. "What good would it do? And you are cold and weak. Rest here awhile. It will help you regain the memory you've lost." I couldn't believe how my own words had changed so from when I was hiding from the man now a guest in my home.

"I could hardly ask you to do anything for me," he said, "and both you and I have nothing which could lead to my identity. No clues."

"What about the strange language you were speaking when we first met?" I asked him. "I have never heard it before."

"What language?"

"You mean you don't remember?"

"No, I don't."

I sighed heavily. "Well, you were walking from the north when I saw you, on a trail I am certain, and I found the initials L.G. inscribed on the arrows you carried."

"L.G.," he asked, "is my name?"

"Can you remember?"

"No, I-" But just then, he clutched his head and reeled forward, knocking the tea kettle and tray over to spout warm liquid across the table. He fell to the floor then, crying out nameless threats and war cries, reliving something, or a certain emotion or pain, I could not tell. I quickly reached him and touched his forehead, though the act was hard as his body writhed.

"Be still," I said to him, for I did not know else what to say or do. I was afraid for his life and my control. His arms flailed out but I grasped them firmly to his chest, and he lay still. He opened one bleary eye, and I felt a tingling through my fingers as I touched him, a magical, unearthly feeling. Time seemed to stop.

"Do you ever have a feeling that you are dreaming when you are wide awake?" he asked me weakly.

I could hear his heartbeat.

"Yes," I said.

He nodded then and closed his eyes. I was alone for the moment and for the next few days as well. My mother had been quite an herbalist, and I had learned from her all that there was to know about various plants and their affect on humans. The fair stranger slept in delirium over the next few days, eating seldom, sleeping mainly, and having terrible visions and nightmares at all hours of the day. With potions I was able to calm his dreams, but not altogether, and many a time, I had to fight his demons beside him in another world. He woke up, sometimes, not knowing where he was, or who I was, but he pictured me as a strange beast, evil and fighting, so I had to control his outbursts, and it was difficult, because many times, he overpowered me. I could barely eat, sleep, or leave his side for a second, and so I became weak and not strong even to chop wood for the fire. My strength was dwindling and his kept growing stronger.

*End of Chapter 1*

I should have the next chapter up soon! Thanks for reading this!
-Ista