Chapter Two
Despite the early hours of the morning, the streets of Seattle were fully awake, no doubt fueled by their morning coffee from the numerous coffee houses that nestled in every block of every street corner. It was a bitter cold morning, wet from the pre-dawn drizzle of rain, a typical climate for late November. All the more reason for the Seattleites to clutch at their paper cups tighter for warmth.
Ayla was no different, clutching her cup of Seattle's Best while dragging her tired feet through the sliding doors of the hospital she worked at. It was her second year out of medical school and she had decided during her residency to become a surgeon, mainly to avoid speaking to patients and dealing with the bullshit of pretending to care and explaining to patient's loved ones why this test needs to be done and why the patient hasn't gotten better after one treatment. (She hated people who sought out the one-and-done non-existent treatments. Fucking idiots.)
True, she still dealt with patients but at least they were unconscious when they came through her doors. The only thing she had to deal with were the families and their endless annoying questions before and after the surgeries. "Will me husband be in pain?" or "What am I going to do if they don't survive?" and so on and so forth. The hardest were when her patients do die on the table and she had to go out and inform the family of the grave news.
It should probably disturb Ayla how all of her sympathy had simply drained out of her by the time she graduated. Now whenever it came to giving bad news, she had to learn how to act sympathetic (maybe it was a sign that she was turning into a sociopath).
She walked into the locker room and went to her assigned locker and began removing her coat. She pulled her phone out of the coat pocket and unlocked the screen, staring blankly down at the bottom right corner of her phone at the little red bubble over the message app. She had ten missed calls.
With a sigh she pressed the button on her phone to listen to the missed messages, knowing she was going to regret it.
"Ayla, it's your mother, why don't you ever answer when I—" Ayla immediately deleted the message and moved on to the next, only to delete the next as well, along with the next four. Her mother was so persistent and it was annoying. Isn't it enough that she was spending the holidays this year with her and her husband and annoying half-siblings?
"I need to change my number." Ayla muttered as she tied her dark hair up into a tight bun and proceeded towards the surgeons' board to check what surgeries she will be doing. She had long since stopped visiting her patients before the procedures, letting the surgical interns do all the talking. Ayla had no patience answering every single mundane question with obvious answers. She didn't bother to look at the board of names of interns who would be assisting her; chances were that once they had finished their first year as interns they would transfer out to other hospitals. Besides, interns were only good for two things: delegations and a good fuck in the janitors' closet.
She scrubbed herself clean from fingertips to her elbows, holding her hands up at shoulder level, pausing to stare at her reflection in the mirror. She noticed the dark bags under eyes immediately and the beginnings of stress-induced white hairs peeking out from her roots. Her brown eyes were dull—defeated from experiences of disappointment and not even thirty yet.
"Another simple procedure. All you're doing is taking out a foot of a man's cancer ridden colon this morning. This isn't a heart transplant. Easy-peezy." she said to her reflection before turning away to enter the O.R.
Ayla was gowned, capped, masked, and gloved by her nursing staff, sterilized for the operation. She approached the operating table where her patient laid, unconscious from the anesthesia with a sterile fenestrated drape over his lower abdomen. The sound of oldies rock music playing on the iPod stereo to keep up everyone's spirits as it was going to be a long procedure.
"All right, let's get started." Ayla said, holding her hand out to the side, "Scalpel."
xxxxx
Six hours later, Ayla came out of the operating room, taking off her protective gear and tossing them into the biohazard bin. Another successful operation. Now she just had to go and tell the family that the patient will make a full recovery and then go to lunch. What was she in the mood for? Maybe a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup, hopefully the cafeteria was serving that today.
xxxxx
(Present)
Three months have gone by and Ayla felt herself beginning to settle in the woodland realm. Her heart already stolen by the young prince, Legolas, who clung to her, spoiled by her attention. Everyday, from morning till night, she would be by the side of the young prince while always being under the watchful eye of the King's guards. She knew, that so long as Legolas insisted, his father, the King, would keep her locked up in the gilded cage called Mirkwood.
Her former life seemed like a dream and Middle Earth was her reality.
Ayla pulled the blanket around her shoulders tighter as she sat out on the veranda in the back of the fortress, staring out at the dense woods. It was still and quiet, the air cool as early signs of winter was approaching. Recently she was allowed to leave her room as she pleased so long as she never set foot outside of the gates. Gilded cage indeed. She closed her eyes, taking in the silence, trying to clear her mind of her troublesome past. Trying to lighten her heart of its many burdens and regrets. Trying not to mourn the loss of her home and tried to find comfort in this world.
How many winters has it been now?
"I have been told that you have been coming out here as of late, as if you are troubled by something." came the familiar velvety voice of the one elf she had grown to truly resent. Pretty face be damned.
"Are you here to tell me yourself that I am no longer to sit here because I'm a lowly human?" she asked, not turning around to face him. This was not her first tango of wills with the arrogant King, nor would it be her last so long as she stays within the same walls. She knew he disliked her, and he had no trouble showing her that and then she would retaliate by acting stubborn and hard-headed like him (of course if he truly knew her she was always that way).
It was a vicious tug-o-war between them with no winner in sight.
"Legolas is quite fond of you, he speaks nothing but high praises about you." Thranduil said, his quiet steps bringing him closer to Ayla. "The mystery of your origin still surrounds your being causing intrigue among my people. The rumors about your travels and deeds span back decades, longer than a normal human life. You have denied being of the Valor, perhaps you are of the Dunedaine?"
"No," she sighed, standing up and finally turning to him, her cheeks and nose pink from the cold as she pulled the blanket up around her shoulders to her ears. "I actually don't know who or what I am anymore. I've lost hope a long time ago of ever going back to where I come from because I'm starting to think it never existed."
Thranduil saw the look of defeat in the always defiant eyes of the healer, seeing the vulnerability show through for just a moment before it vanished beneath the icy exterior she had put up. He had once understood the feeling of dread of never coming home, not since the last war so many centuries ago.
"Perhaps it is time for you to forget the past." Thranduil said.
"And how do you propose I go about doing that?"
"As a favor for saving my son, you may call the Woodland Realm, your home."
Thranduil saw the hesitation in Ayla, knowing that she cared for his son but he had also witnessed the longing to leave. The past month Thranduil had heard of nothing but talk of Ayla, the mysterious healer among his kin, about how she was teaching his elvin healers her methods and how none of it relied on magic but trained skill. She had healed so many and yet all the tales and rumors never mentioned her name or that she took payment of any kind. A frail, weak looking human woman, who has lived an impossibly long life, who has wandered alone searching for an answer to questions unasked. Thranduil knew her pain, or at the very least, understood to a degree.
"Mull it over," Thranduil said as he turned to leave. "We will break bread together tonight." Ayla remained where she stood, feeling the cold entering her body. Did she have a future in the Woodland Realm? Did she even want to stay?
Have I given up trying to find my way home to Seattle? Dorothy Gale, I need your ruby slippers.
xxxxx
(Past)
"Soryn!" called one of her colleagues, making Ayla stop and turn around to see Dr. Pamela Hana, the Resident Director of the hospital. She was a glamorous looking woman, always dressed in the finest labels under her lab coat, but she had a nasty personality which is why Ayla got along with her. "Going out for lunch?"
"Yeah, I was gonna get something down at Pike's." Ayla said.
Pamela clicked her tongue in disapproval. "You're paid a doctor's salary, you should spend your blood money on better things than day-old clam chowder." she chided as she linked her arm with Ayla's and led the way out through the double glass doors.
"Pam, I just wanna eat a cheap, over-priced, greasy burger." Ayla complained as Pam dragged her to the curb where a waiting Uber car sat idle. Pam opened the door and shoved Ayla in before getting in herself.
"You'll get your greasy burger, but from a place with better quality." Pamela said.
"I'd be happier with questionable meat between a sesame bun and extra pickles and if they ask if I want to supersize it I will."
"Ugh, you truly are a garbage disposal."
Ayla grinned, always relishing in the small victory of disgusting her high-maintenance friend. The two of them had found each other in medical school, and immediately formed a bond and had been friends ever since. It was safe to say that Pamela was Ayla's spirit animal, always guiding her to trouble.
xxxxx
(Present)
Sitting at dinner Ayla did her best to pretend that she wasn't bored of yet another meal of leafy greens and yeast-free bread. At least there was wine; it helped to ease her nerves since the King was staring at her intensely. What the fuck is he waiting for? For me to pull shit out of thin air? Stop starring you asshole!
"Tell me about the land you come from." Thranduil said, not ask.
This question again. Son-of-a-bitch, if I had a dollar every time that question came up I'd be richer than Paul Allen. Damnit, I've definitely gotten a lot more cynical as of late. Am I about to go on my period? When have I been a serious PMSer? Whatever, I might as well let the wine finally do the talking.
Ayla took in a slow breath as she set her wine glass down on the finely carved table. She didn't like to think of home, she also never spoke about it to anyone who asked. Of course the longer she stayed the more her past came to the forefront of her mind. "What would you like to know?"
Thranduil raised a perfect eyebrow, he had been prepared to be rebuffed again for asking. He would not squander this chance to satisfy his curiosity. "What is the name of the land you come from?"
"Washington." she answered, "But it's not a land, it's a State, which is one of fifty in a country called the United States of America, which is also known as North America." Thranduil took a moment to process what he learned, able to grasp that it was similar to Middle Earth with its many kingdoms and borders. "My home is called Seattle, a city in Washington."
"Tell me about your city. Is it populated by only humans?"
An amused smiled tugged at her lips, giving her such a sense of irony. "Where I come from elves, orcs, magic, none of that exists. It's all nothing but make-believe and stories and very elaborate larping."
"Larping?"
Ayla waived that away, not wanting to get into that dangerous conversation. "Where I'm from, humans are the dominant race, and they believe they have the answers to everything—which of course they don't but in all fairness we're a pretty arrogant species."
It was Thrandiul's turn to have an amused smile. Fuck, he was a beautiful man. You hate his guts, remember? "What does your city look like?"
"Geez, where do I start?" she sighed before taking a sip of wine. "I guess I can start by saying it's built on seven hills, two of which are man-made, overlooking a body of water called the Puget Sound. There are tunnels that travel underneath the city for people to quickly travel through while above are crowded streets. There are buildings so tall they make you dizzy just by looking up at them. And at night the city lights up and from a distance the lights look like stars." Ayla paused for a moment, wondering if it was the wine for making her feel nostalgic for talking about her home or the fact that she might just be hormonal from the possible menstruation she may be experiencing. "Seattle boasts for having the oldest farmer's market in the country called Pike's Place, where it's open every day from dawn to dusk. And no matter what season it is there are always the florist and their hybrid flowers."
Thranduil could see she was lost in memory, her expression soft and her eyes showing longing. Her pink lips in a neutral state, not showing a frown or a smile. She was the first human he found interesting in many centuries, seeing as how she was obviously not from anywhere he would know of and her speech and mannerisms were also peculiar. If not course and unrefined.
"If you are not from Middle Earth then how did you come here?" Thranduil asked, seeing her return to reality as she turned her head in his direction.
"I don't know." she said, her voice soft and carrying a tone of disappointment.
xxxxx
(Past)
"This is a three star restaurant and you still manage to order trash for your body." Pamela said as brought a forkful of her steamed salmon to her mouth.
"Like I could give a shit after this morning." Ayla said before taking a hungry bite of her "gourmet" hamburger. Juice from the meat mixed with the sauce and oil from the grilled onions dripped onto her plate as she chewed with a satisfied moan.
"You're so vulgar."
Ayla just gave her a greasy smile as she chewed happily and then swallowed, ready to take another satisfying bite when the customer at the table next to theirs began to choke. Pamela and Ayla both exchanged looks.
"I'm just a surgeon." Ayla said. In all honesty she didn't want to do anything heroic. The "Good Samaritan Act" could only protect her from so much from a legal stand point.
"So what? You have the upper body strength." Pamela said nonchalantly.
Ayla rolled her eyes and wiped her hands on the napkin before she and Pamela rock-paper-scissored. Ayla lost and stood up, going to the choking man while patrons and waiters looked on helplessly. Wrapping her arms around the man from behind she merely gave one firm squeeze into the man's diaphragm and instantly the man's steak shot out onto the table.
"Th-thank you! Thank you so much!" the man gasped, looking back at Ayla.
"Uh-huh." Ayla grunted before sitting back down at the table and resuming her lunch. She couldn't be bothered with the praise since the love only lasted until the bill was paid.
xxxxx
(Present)
Dinner had ended but Ayla and the King had moved to the parlor to have another glass of wine. Thranduil wanted to hear more about Ayla's world and gain further access into the mysterious woman's past. Sitting on the opposite ends of the couch, a glass of finely aged wine in hand, Ayla's past began to slowly reveal itself to Thranduil.
"I was married once. We were in medical school together; he was aiming to be a neurologist while minoring in psychiatry. You can probably guess what happened, us being young and stupid and thousands of dollars in debt. Not even a year after we got married did I catch him having sex on our dining table with my half-sister." Ayla said before taking a gulp of wine. Thranduil was impressed by how much alcohol Ayla could handle and refilled her glass when it was empty, wanting her to go on with more tales of her past.
"You caught your husband being unfaithful to you. I hear infidelity is common place in human marriages." Thranduil said, feeling his own lips becoming loose. They did polish off three bottles together this evening.
Ayla snorted into a bitter laugh. "Sad but true. I was pretty lucky to have a friend who is a lawyer and was able to settle my divorce quickly and cleanly."
That evening he learned that Ayla was one of three children in her family, one sister and brother. She was the oldest of the three and the most estranged. Her siblings were from her mother's second marriage and that it made her feel unwanted and alienated since she took after her father with having dark hair and dark eyes while her siblings, mother, and step-father were all blondes with blue eyes. She was the literal "black sheep" of her family.
He learned that she left home as soon as she was eighteen and went as far away as possible for her schooling. That she chose medicine not because she cared about helping people but because she wanted to be closer to her father after he had passed away.
"Since I got here…I've never—never felt more alone." Ayla said somberly, resting her head against her braced palm. Her eyelids drooped from the alcohol before closing completely.
Thranduil watched her sleep for a bit, calmly repeating her last words in his head. And in a turn of surprise, he felt sorry for her. He felt pity towards the human who irked him on a daily basis. Her loneliness stemmed from childhood, neglected by her own family and betrayed by someone she had exchanged vows with. Such a confession of loneliness only compelled Thranduil to understand and empathize such a feeling for he, too, had experienced loneliness.
Rising up to his feet, he closed the distance between him and Ayla, reaching down and gently pulling her body up into his arms. The smell of wine was strong as the sweetness was beginning to turn sour and by morning, he knew Ayla would no doubt be nursing a terrible hangover.