Disclaimer: The fact, that I don't own any of the characters of "Lord of the Rings" or "Silmarillion" doesn't mean, that I don't want to own some of them.

However, Rexia, Ralon and others, who do not belong to Tolkien, are the children of my not-so-right mind.

Author's note:

First: I began to write this story somewhere in August, but brought myself to publish it not so long ago. Be indulgent, don't take it close to heart, if you don't like it.

Second: English is not my native language, so if there are any mistakes or inexactitudes – feel free to tell me, I'd really appreciate that. In the light of the aforesaid, would anybody be so kind to become my beta-reader? Thanks in advance. :o))

Third: The name of the girl is supposed to be read according to the rules of Latin – letter by letter. It's Rexia 'reksia

Enjoy it, and review it, if you have time.

Sincerely, Adamanta.

P.S. Just in case – no pointed ears. But if you prefer to think of elves this way – be my guest.

Thanks once more. :o)))

Chapter 1.
No light for him.

He heard the door open and close somewhere downstairs. Yes, he heard it, but he didn't make a move to meet his guests, though he had been expecting them for several hours. What was the difference, if he could only hear them? And even if he went down to the hall, he wouldn't be able to see their faces. He wouldn't be able to see anything. He was blind. He, Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood.

It happened five years ago, when he was patrolling the frontier of his new land. Though it could hardly be called "patrolling". Nobody had ever tried to enter his home without asking the elves to let him in. So Legolas was aimlessly roaming around the edge of a silent lake, enjoying the rustle of dark-emerald leaves, whispering of the wind and twinkling of blue-eyed stars. Suddenly, the faint noise made him turn around. Nothing… There was nothing, but now he could perceive, that the world around him had changed. Malice was streaming through the air, malice and evil…

The elf bent his bow and at the same moment it seemed that the night itself left its place in the sky, gliding to him quicker than he could think of something to do. The last thing Legolas saw was an ugly, shapeless, giant shadow… And then the darkness fell upon him and remained so.

Five years of the darkness.

Five years of suffering.

Five years of despair.

A blind elf. A wingless eagle.

He wasn't able either to see the sun or to climb trees anymore. His loyal bow appeared to be just a useless toy in his fingers. And he left the elves to live in a hateful house, deprived of everything he loved, doomed to drag out such poor life forever.

The voices downstairs became clearer, and Legolas began to make out some phrases of what seemed an argument.

"I promised him you would try!" a desperate whisper belonged to one of his mortal friends, a mere boy of something about twenty. To elf's measure, just a nursling, but his company didn't irritate Legolas. Under the given circumstances he preferred it to the company of his own congeners.

"But how could you promise it without asking me? It's not that I don't want to help, but to heal an elf! Isn't it beyond my powers, brother?"

"I believe in you."

"Thank you very much!" came a bitter reply, "But I don't. I'm not a medicine you can give to anyone, who asks. I'm your sister, to cry out loud! And you just keep using me to uphold your reputation of a faithful friend."

They stood just behind the door. He could hear somebody's fingers touch its wooden surface.

"Shh-h-h! He might be blind, but he is not deaf... He might get offended."

The door opened, and Legolas turned his face towards it, but almost at the same moment remembered that it was a useless motion.

"Hello, Ralon," said he, trying to hide his bitter disappointment, "Have you done me an honour to bring someone with you?"

"Well, I have brought someone… It's Rexia, my sister. She is a Healer, and a very good one, I should say. So, if you only allow, she can help with …with your eyes."

Legolas suppressed a smile, threatening to curve his lips. He didn't want to offend the boy and felt that he would have to agree, though it seemed pointless. Even his father, who was considered to be the best, when it came about healing, had to give up after several fruitless attempts to restore his lost vision. Nobody could even discover the real reason of his blindness.

"Why not?" answered he after some moments of silence, "But, may be, Lady Rexia finds it too difficult? I am not the one to be burdensome."

"I told you, he could hear!" whispered Ralon fiercely, forgetting that Legolas had much better ears than anyone of the human race.

"Of course, he heard it. And he does, now," snapped a girl's voice acidly, "Don't, please, make a fool of yourself. And yes, I do find it too difficult," now she was speaking to the Prince of Mirkwood, "but I have never refused to help when I was asked."

He did not like her voice. It had nothing of what elves appreciated in voices – neither tunefulness, nor sonority. It was annoyingly toneless and elusive, a bit too deep to his keen ear. He also discerned a slight hoarseness, the same, that spoiled the voice of her brother.

"I think I must thank you," responded Legolas at last.

"I've done nothing to thank me for. Wait until I finish the cure, and then begin to feel grateful."

Something in her answer made the elf raise his brows in puzzlement. He ignored the fact, that raised brows above obviously blind eyes may seem ridiculous.

"By saying that you imply that it will take a long time to heal me?" he inquired, his voice hiding a hint of sarcasm.

"The things, done easily, are often hard to correct. Don't you agree?"

An awkward silence hung in the air. At last Ralon mumbled something that should have implicated a wish to leave and, judging by his hurried steps, almost flew out of the house. Legolas was left alone with his new acquaintance. She was sitting so silently, that he even began to doubt in her presence.

"How did it happen?" her voice cut in his reveries, cruelly ruining them.

"I beg the pardon?"

"How did you become blind?"

"I don't see, how it deals with your intention to heal me," answered he dryly. It was odd, but for the first time in five years somebody called things by their right names. She was the first to call him what he was. And it infuriated him to no end.

She plunged into silence once again, and then suddenly he felt her near him, her palm on his face…

"If you chose being so stubborn, I'll find it out myself," she snapped, and the world around him collapsed.

There was the lake and the stars, and the feeling of someone's presence… There was evil and fear… There was the huge shadow…

"No!"

Everything stopped as abruptly as it had come to him. Legolas was breathing heavily, his heart seemed eager to jump out of his chest. For several moments he was able to see again, but those moments reminded a nightmare. He jerked away from the cool palm, still resting on his forehead.

"Never," the elf forced through the pain, which throbbed in his whole body, "never do that again."

"I nave no need to," her breathing was uneven, too, "I've learnt everything I wanted."

He heard her rise to her feet and stroll towards the door.

"Are you leaving?" Legolas refused to believe his ears. Her unexpected desire to go away confused him.

"I'll be back tomorrow. Good bye and forgive me for having forced you into enduring it all once more."
She opened the door, but did not come out. All of a sudden she spoke again.

"Don't be so hopeless, Prince Legolas. One day you will be the King of elves. I promise you…"