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Super-elf
"He was as tall as a young tree, lithe, immensely strong, able swiftly to draw a great war-bow and shoot down a Nazgul, endowed with the tremendous vitality of Elvish bodies, so hard and resistant to hurt that he went only in light shoes over rock or through snow, the most tireless of all the Fellowship."
J.R.R. Tolkien
The only thing he remembered was the world spinning around, almost like deep grey waters of the sea. They invited, they forgave and they seemed to be the only solution of ...
What exactly did he try to achieve?
Legolas heard his own moan – it sounded unfamiliar, as if it was someone else's voice. The last thing the Elf remembered was leaving to the Undying lands, and Gimli, his old Dwarf-friend, trying not to throw up the very moment the ship had left the harbor ... Sea gulls crying, woods left behind whispering into the wind. ..
They were repeating a name. Legolas knew somehow it was a name of a very important person. But for sure he's never heard it before in his long Elvish life.
'Clark Kent' .
Legolas tried to stir. His treacherous body didn't feel as his own. What happened? Was he lost on the way or didn't get a permission to enter Valinor? If he reached the Elven resort at last, was it Lord Elrond trying to bring him back to consciousness?
'Clark, open your eyes!' the voice demanded.
Whoever that Clark was, seemed he needed to open eyes too.
Bright light momentarily blinded him. Gradually he managed to focus on the face of a dark-skinned man.
Legolas shivered. Was he in the Easterling's prison? Was his journey with Gimli to Valinor just wishful thinking?
The face smiled.
'Welcome back, Clark!'
'Where am I?' Legolas whispered in Westorn.
'You can speak English now, Clark.'
'My name is Legolas.'
He wished they understood him.
At least that Easterling did not possess some Orkish manners. Was his torture as exotic as his clothes were?
'See, just like I told you! His second phrase would be in English', the cheerful female voice said.
'I had no doubt in you, Zatanna'.
'He seems to be completely healed.'
Was he tortured and then healed to be tortured again? Was it better to keep silence?
But he wished to know if Ithilien was safe. With Aragorn dead…
Legolas decided to break the strange dialog. He needed to pretend.
'What are you talking about? Who are you?'
The Easterling moved back. If the Elf thought the man had a bad fashion taste, his companion was a winner in ridiculous outfits' competition. A woman though fair-skinned wore the most inappropriate clothes he'd ever seen!
Was it her form of torture? Were they going to make him their sex-slave?
'We are your friends, Clark'.
He barked. 'My name is'...
The woman interrupted. 'You still think of yourself as a Prince of Mirkwood, but you speak perfect English'.
Chill coursed through his body.
No, he spoke Westorn, didn't he? For that beings wouldn't get a word in Sindarin.
The Elf didn't dare to look into the woman's eyes, so he switched his attention to the man.
'You were close, Clark. Lois Lane found you almost dead. Then I brought you to the Fortress to heal'.
Legolas abruptly set up. His body was aching. Terrible feeling washed over him as he caught himself on believing the Easterling. Something in the man's words made the Elf feel the truth. What exactly did he believe in?
Zatanna commented 'You've overused your muscles. But a little bit more sun – and you'll be like a newborn baby'.
The woman paraded before him wearing almost nothing, and the short list of her garments includedahat and the friendliest of smiles. Perhaps it was customary here?
'What Fortress am I at? Ithilien?'
He looked around and for the first time noticed that the walls weren't made of stone or wood but of glistening crystals.
The man touched his shoulder.
'You'll never return to your old live, Clark. Legolas is your counteract in parallel universe whose soul you had been united with to be healed by his immortality'.
So he almost died. In the unknown Easterling prison.
'I wish I died to be reborn in Valinor', he whispered to himself, his lips felt dry and trembling.
'Legolas has safely reached Valinor and reunited with his kin. Clark Kent has returned to his own healed body. Centuries there, but only twenty four hours here'.
Legolas felt the deep sadness touched his heart. Nobody could play Eru! Nobody should!
And he had started to believe them. What a tale – they'd make good bards at King Thranduil's court! Though what's the use of stories that are not real? Giving an enemy a false hope?
It seemed the Easterlings had found a Dwarf-made fortress. It was probably very old for he had never heard of such a place even from Gimli. And the Dwarf was talkative.
'Am I an Elven prince here too?'
Legolas forced himself to look friendly.
'No, you are an alien from Krypton, the destroyed realm.'
O… that was rich even for the sophisticated nightmare! Legolas suppressed a bitter laugh.
'I wasn't aware that in the age of men elves had been pictured as aliens. And I don't feel myself mortal.'
The Easterling sighed and patiently continued.
'The elves have never existed here. More so, in comparison to the Middle-earth this world is many millennia ahead. But you are Kal-El, the last son of the planet Krypton, and you were raised here as Clark Kent.'
They thought he was mental. Or were they mental themselves? That was it!
'So I am Legolas, Kal-El and Clark Kent. More to add to the list?'
'You know J'onn here isn't human either', Zatanna butted in. 'He's from the planet Mars'.
The woman looked as if she was enjoying herself.
'How many names have you got then?' Legolas asked the Easterling trying to prolong the crazy game before they would decide to start the torture.
'Just J'onn J'onzz ', the man smiled.
'In the League of heroes he is known as Martian Manhunter', Zananna added eagerly. 'You were known as the Blur. And now, as Superman.'
She then mumbled something about overzealous brides and laughed noticing his horrified look. Legolas sincerely hoped that her name and 'his bride' would never be mentioned in the same sentence.
Perhaps it was better to stand up and make an attempt to escape before more of them would come for a torturing party.
Superman, indeed!
Legolas jumped off the bed. It was easier than he thought it would be judging by how he felt.
Manhunter didn't even flinch despite ear-piercing high-pitched woman's cry almost in his ear.
'Jor-El!'
Something appeared out of thin air. But it wasn't a weapon.
It was a mirror.
'What did you do to my hair?! And my braids!'…
Legolas gulped. He was looking at a face that was somehow familiar. How was that possible? He could neither move nor breathe frozen in the unconceivable moment.
Was it really him?
He put a trembling hand to his perfectly round ear. And finally snapped.
'But I'm completely opposite! Your Clark has wavy dark hair, when Legolas has straight blond. Clark is big and masculine, Legolas is graceful and lithe. Clark is'…
Did he refer to himself in the third person? Their plan was working. They wanted to make him crazy. And crazy elves don't go to Valinor, they only leave it. Their history usually is quite pitiful.
His clothes were even stranger, he'd dare say scandalous. They covered the body as a second skin without any discomfort, but all of him was indirectly revealed. At least he'd got a cape!
'What about your eyes?'
It was Manhunter who asked.
'Clark's eyes are darker. Bluish green.'
'Look deeper and you'll see. Your soul. In Middle-earth you demonstrated quite unique talents even for an Elf. It's the soul, my friend. You brought Kryptonian abilities to add to your twin's ones.'
'What do you mean?' the Elf whispered.
'Remember how you were jumping up on the falling stones during the Battle of five armies? You defied laws of physics. And Superman can fly. Whose aim was always the best? Superman's got extra-vision. You wrestled with the strongest orks. Superman can move asteroids. You won all battles. You've never been wounded, not a scratch, except for mild nasal bleeding. Superman is almost indestructible. Should I continue?'
His eyes widened.
'How do you know all of this?'
The whole Elf's world just turned upside down.
'I'm telepathic'.
Great, just great! What's more to come? Metal dragons as home pets? Orks building the houses?
At least those heroes were helping people, if the meaning of the word didn't change as much as fashion.
'And I'm a sorceress by the way' Zatanna added with a smirk.
Legolas couldn't contain himself. 'I've never doubted you to be a witch, my lady'.
J'onn put a hand on his shoulder. 'Are you ready to remember?'
The Elf kept silence for a while.
'Can you make me Clark again?'
'Not me. But you'll see for yourself how similar Clark and Legolas are'.
Wasn't it obvious? Especially their hair-style.
Legolas nodded pensively and wanted to ask whether he would bring something Elvish into Clark's life as the Kryptonian did for the Elf, – his sense of fashion and love for poetry for example, – would he desperately miss his kin, would he ever meet his twin face to face. But in a moment he found himself inside a transparent light sphere. His limbs relaxed and he was floating in the air!
Bright images flooded his mind, the strongest emotions overwhelmed him.
He remembered the last battle and his striving to survive.
He remembered as a breath of fresh air… And then he saw it.
J'onn J'onzz was right, they were similar almost in everything, including their surroundings and relationships. Starting with his emotionally deprived dead father Jor-El, King Thranduil of that realm!
Chloe wouldn't wear a beard, but was of almost the right height, and their friendship was so familiar. Gimli the Dwarf, a faithful comrade!
Aragorn the 'Green Arrow' Oliver, his tormented friend, who had become worthy of the high status, the parent's memory and self-respect.
J'onn J'onzz was Gandalf himself, always a protector.
How Zatanna was similar to Lady Galadriel, he couldn't comprehend, but it was obvious. Witchcraft sisterhood, at least she didn't predict future for it would become even messier than her usual quirks.
Ridiculously though, it seemed everybody had the wrong hair color.
Lana should be red-haired. She was a perfect twin to Tauriel…
Lex Luthor stood for Sauron the traitor! It was their common habit to lose the body from time to time. At least Sauron kept his hair.
Darkseid as Morgoth… Nazgul wraiths…
Bart Allen as Pippin, whom everybody hid lembos from. Jimmy as Merry. Perhaps someday there would be a Sam and a Frodo in their League…
'Jor-El! Where is that super-elf of mine?!' impatient feminine voice called.
And Lois… Clark wished his counteract would meet her in Valinor.
He knew then why Legolas had been alone for thousands of years.
No one was like Lois Lane.