Chapter Eight

"To have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever." ~ Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

For three days, Hathier doesn't see much of Tauriel and Prince Legolas. He continues to leave his room for his meals, to attend his lessons in elvish, and to visit the garden. It seemed the two elves are avoiding him. He doesn't see them during the meals nor has there been a word of archery lessons. News of the failed lesson traveled fast because he is once again under the wary and uncertain gaze of the other elves. In some cases, he enters a room and many are quick to leave. Only Galtara and Luthrin actively seek his company and for that, Hathier is thankful.

"Are you well?"

Hathier blinks before turning to Luthrin who has his head tilted, long sunflower blond hair falling over his shoulder, as he waits patiently.

"As well as I can be," Hathier replies.

"That is a seemly vague answer." Luthrin moves a little closer. "A flower for your thoughts?" He holds out a small white daisy. Hathier laughs, just a bit, and accepts the offering. He places it behind his ear.

"I have a few things on my mind. The anniversary of the battle from my previous world and the failed attempt at hitting a center with an arrow. My self-esteem is not very high right now."

"Archery isn't for everyone," Luthrin replies with a gentle smile. "I'm not much of an archer myself. It's why I choose medicine. I know the basics necessary for battle. In other words, surviving." He turns his focus to the flower bed in front of him. "As for your previous world...is there no way you can go back?"

"I'm pretty sure I can," Hathier replies. "I just have to...ask, it seems."

Luthrin hums softly. "I hope that you can." It seems that is all he has to say.

Hathier blinks. He was expecting more than that. "You're not curious about my world?"

"Oh, I am. Very much so, but I also know that you've been asked by others about the possibility of going with you? I do not wish to increase the stress."

"Oh, okay. I guess that makes sense."

"Galtara mentioned that you would be traveling to Dale with him in a few days?"

Hathier nods, smiling just a bit. "Yes. It'll give me a chance to experience places outside of Mirkwood."

"Becoming tired of our kingdom already, Hathier?"

Just as he's about to deny that statement, Hathier catches a glimpse of Luthrin's knowing smile and scowls. "It's not nice to tease someone in distress."

"You are right," Luthrin replies quickly. "I was merely attempting to lighten the mood."

"If that what you all think? At some point or another?"

"That we believe you want to leave?" Luthrin dusts his clothes of dirt and stands up. "There is some talk, I won't lie. Some of the elves don't know how to approach at times. We are curious, but cautious creatures. And we are sensitive to the aura of one another. You've been uncomfortable and unhappy for a while now. We can sense this."

"I don't mean to," Hathier says softly. "I can't help what I feel."

"No one is faulting you for it, Hathier. I most certainly am not. We are, however, concerned." When Hathier doesn't reply, Luthrin continues. "You're a particular kind of elf. There's never been a case of a wizard transforming into an elf. Your needs seem different and we - the royal family, Tauriel, Galata, and I - don't know how to help you."

"You're helping now."

Luthrin blinks. "Am I? How so?"

Hathier waves his hand around them. "We're working on the garden. It's a familiar activity to me and you've been good company. You don't push or act strangely with me. We can go long periods without speaking and it doesn't change the atmosphere."

"That helps you?"

"It helps me a lot. The normalcy helps me. I am comfortable around you." Hathier blinks at the slight flush that adorns Luthrin's cheeks. "Are you okay?"

Luthrin politely coughs into a closed fist. "I am well."

"Should we take a break?"

"Becoming tired already?" Luthrin asks while grinning.

Hathier snorts. "I could do this in my sleep." He places his tools down and gets up. "But I am a little hungry. Can we get a snack?"

Luthrin glances around the garden before nodding. "Let's stop for the day. It has probably passed lunch by now, but I'm sure the cook will make you something if he's in. Many elves walk in and out of the kitchen throughout the day."

For a brief moment, Harry recalls the house elves in the kitchens of Hogwarts. He has traveled down to the kitchens a few times with Ron when they've missed dinner and woke up hungry. The house elves were more than happy to whip up some treats and tea for them.

"What causes that smile?"

Hathier blinks. "I'm sorry?"

Luthrin laughs politely behind a hand. "You're smiling. It's carefree. I don't recall the last time you smiled like that."

Hathier feels his face go warm. "I was just remembering something from my old world." He only receives a kind smile. "Let's go to the kitchen. I want bread."

"Do you need me to lead?" Luthrin asks.

Huffing, Hathier moves ahead of him. "Of course not! I know my way around here now!"

Luthrin chuckles. "Of course, of course. Please lead the way."

The walk is done in silence, but neither feel uncomfortable. Hathier smiles to himself when they enter the kitchen to find it empty. On the table is a fresh stack of bread and two ice water pitchers.

"Thank goodness."

Luthrin laughs outright. "You and that bread? It's all any of us ever see you eat!"

Hathier takes the whole plate and sits down on the edge of the table without a care and starts picking at the bread, happily chews on pieces of varying sizes. "It's just so good." He snaps his attention to Luthrin who is pouring them both a goblet of ice water. "Do you want any?" At Luthrin's head shake, Hathier polishes off one piece and moves on to the next one.

"I'm glad you are comfortable enough to relax now."

Hathier has to keep a tight grip on the platter of bread in order not to drop it. He gets off the table quickly, places the platter down, and bows deeply to the king.

"Your Highness," he greets. King Thranduil stands impossibly tall at the entrance of the kitchen, gazing at Hathier and Luthrin with intense curiosity. He isn't wearing his flower crown and had abandoned his heaviest green robes. Gripped in one hand is a large bow. That's when Hathier notices the quiver of arrows over the king's right shoulder. "Going to practice?"

The king's lips twitch into a barely there smile and nods. "For the time being until my duties call me back."

Hathier nods. "That's good, right? Taking a break every now and then is good."

King Thranduil hums. "Agreed." His glowing silver-blue eyes bore into Hathier's, but he otherwise doesn't move from his position. "I heard you attempted this," he jiggles the bow in his hand for a few seconds, "a few days ago and it did not...end well for you."

"I set my bow on fire," Hathier deadpans. "It was an accident. I was getting frustrated."

The king glances at Luthrin briefly and then returns his gaze to Hathier's face. "Come find me when you are done."

Blinking in surprise, Hathier nods slowly. "Of course, your highness."

"Enjoy the rest of your...meal," and with that, the king leaves them be.

Neither Hathier or Luthrin speak - or breathe, really - for a few moments. The king's presence has always been overwhelming, silently commanding attention the moment he enters a room. He can also be awkward at times.

"He will give you lessons," Luthrin states after a while. "No doubt the prince has informed him of everything that happened. Or, at least, inform him of some details."

"That's wonderful," Hathier replies just a tad bit sarcastic. "Failing twice is something I look forward too."

Luthrin moves to stand next to him and bumps his shoulder. "Don't be dramatic, Hathier. It's unbecoming."

Hathier rolls his eyes. "Haven't you heard, Luthrin? I make for a very bad elf."

"The prince merely teases you."

"I know." Hathier's shoulders slump. "But it's also true. I can...maybe hold a small conversation in elvish. I can't fight the way you all do. I'm not super stealthy. I'm trying so hard to blend in, but it's not working out."

Luthrin reaches up and tugs at Hathier's hair. "It's hard to blend in with hair like this. You're the only one among us with hair so dark. Besides," Luthrin takes a drink of his water, "you should not try to be anyone other than yourself."

"I don't want to embarrass the royal family nor the other elves of Mirkwood...should there be visitors."

"Your origins will be known as time carries on. Elves enter and exit Mirkwood every day. Stories of you would have made it to Riverdale and Lothlorien by now."

"Oh, that's wonderful!"

In truth? It's not wonderful. Those stories aren't coming from his own mouth, therefore, making them easily twisted and devalued depending on who the storyteller is.

"Sarcasm is unbecoming as well."

Hathier sticks his tongue out at Luthrin. "You told me not to change myself."

Luthrin stares at him before breaking out into his charming laughter. "Well, yes. Yes, I did."

Soon, both are laughing over their silly conversation. Hathier can feel an unknowing weight lift from his shoulders, his head a little clearer, and his hopes raising. Perhaps practicing with the king will benefit him?

"Have you seen the king shoot before?"

"On the occasion that he does have free time," Luthrin replies. "Should you see King Thranduil and Prince Legolas shoot side-by-side, you wouldn't be able to tell them apart. Their movements are perfect."

"I failed under the prince," Hathier starts playing with the hairs of his naturally messy hair.

"Because you grew frustrated."

"Yes. It's...different with the king. Prince Legolas is much easier going. I was embarrassed, truth be told. I don't think I can live after today if I do that badly in front of the king."

Luthrin claps his shoulder. "Dramatic," he states.

Hathier scowls. "Am I not allowed to freak out about this?!"

"'Freak out?'" Luthrin's brow furls.

"It means to be shocked or uncomfortable."

"The king will be steady," comes Luthrin's immediate reply. "Though, he may push you a little more."

"If you say so."

If at first, you don't succeed,

Keep trying.

You can achieve more than you believe,

Keep trying.

Giving up only leads to a wounded heart,

And a wounded heart never heals. [1]

He stands there completely mesmerized. He silently asks Prince Legolas for forgiveness because he has nothing on his father. The king stands tall and proud in the center of the field, firing arrow after arrow at a different target each time he releases one. He's alone, which eases Hathier's nerves just a bit, and skilled. Beyond skilled, really.

"Do you plan on standing there the entire time you're here?"

Hathier jumps, completely unprepared to hear the king speak. "Your Highness?"

"There's a spare set under the tree you're standing next too. Pick it up and come here."

Looking away, Hathier looks down next to him and sees the bow and quiver of arrows. They are unlike the ones he used when practicing with Prince Legolas, Tauriel, and those other elves. These arrows are thicker, longer, yet beautifully crafted. Hathier picks up the bow and it's equally as beautiful; being made of black wood and engraved with silver details. Grabbing the quiver, Hathier moves to stand next to the king.

"My son attempted to teach you. He states you did rather well with setting up your shot, but your aim was off."

"More than off, Your Highness. I don't know what I'm doing wrong but whatever it is, it's incredibly annoying."

The king finally lowers his bow to look at him. "Have you tried picturing them as your enemies or those who have disappointed you in the past?"

Hathier blinks. "Um, is that what you do?"

"Anger and disappointment are excellent motivators," is King Thranduil's only reply.

"Are you speaking from experience?" Hathier rephrases his question before slapping a hand over his mouth.

Why did I say that? Why why why why -

"Yes."

Hathier stops his mental freak out. "Um..."

King Thranduil pulls out an arrow and taps the tip thoughtfully. "I have lived a long time, Hathier. I am...one of the oldest of our kind. I have seen many things, have done many things because of my anger and disappointment. Not all of them were with good intentions."

"Then why - "

"Because channeling my anger or disappointment allows me to focus. I never miss a target." Hathier bites his lip to keep himself from asking what has made him angry in the past.

"Fear is a good motivator too," he replies instead.

"Yes, it is. We may be different from the other races, but we all experience anger, fear, disappointment and allow them to motivate - or influence - our actions. However, you need to pick one for today and use it to your advantage. Pick a target."

Hathier looks at the rows of targets across the clearing, choosing one at the back.

"Set up."

He obeys.

"Have you decided what will motivate you today?"

Hathier pauses. He has always been either a very emotional person or someone who shows little emotion. Anger? He could use anger. He has so much to be angry about. Some many events to be angry about. Some many people to be angry at. Disappointment? The same with anger. Really, they are equal in terms of everything that has happened to him.

Hathier doesn't consider fear.

"Yes," he replies.

"Good. Line up your arrow. Keep both eyes open."

Doing as he is told, Hathier lines up his arrow and stares at the target. He chooses disappointment. Disappointment towards those who should have cared for him growing up. Disappointment towards the Daily Prophet and their false or edited news. Disappointment at himself for cowardly leaving his world behind to deal with the aftermath of the war. All of it is focused at the faraway target.

"Breathe in - "

" - and out."

Hathier releases the arrow.

Thwack.

He stops. Looks away. Looks back. Looks at the king. Looks back.

"Is it in the - "

" - center? Yes."

Throwing his hands up, Hathier lets out a loud, "Yes! I did it!"

"May I ask what you were thinking about?"

Hathier bites his lower lip before replying,"Disappointment. At those who were supposed to look out for me while I was growing up and at myself," he looks at the king, "for leaving all those I love and care for behind."

King Thranduil nods slowly before looking at the single arrow sticking out of the target Hathier choose. "You did well. And on your first try." He blinks slowly. "Do it again."

Hathier nods slowly. "Okay."

For hours, they stayed there and practiced. Well, more like Hathier practiced and the king fires an arrow every now and then. And it's relaxing to Hathier. He feels calmer. Just about every arrow hits the center of a target.

"Let's stop for today."

Hathier lowers his bow. "I think I did well today."

"You did. Much better than before, I'm sure."

"I only managed one hit the other day and it wasn't the center," Hathier replies. "Today is much, much better." He turns to the king. "Thank you."

"I merely set you in the right direction. You did all the work."

A smile tugs at the corner of Hathier's mouth. "True, but I won't have gotten far without you."

King Thranduil nods slowly but otherwise doesn't reply.

"King Thranduil!" A she-elf comes charging into the clearing. "Come quick! It's the prince - "

The she-elf doesn't get a chance to finish her sentence before the king takes off in a sprint towards the Healing House, Hathier right on his heels. Dread pools in the bottom of his stomach the closer they draw near. If something happens to Prince Legolas...Hathier doesn't know what he'll do. He doesn't know what the king will do either.

"Your Highness," Galtara greets them quietly upon their arrival.

Hathier is breathing heavily but the king doesn't appear out of breath at all.

"Where is he?" King Thranduil demands. "What happened to him?"

"The first room," Galtara replies while stepping back to let them through. "Venom from a spider. The wound..." There's a grave expression on his face. "The wound is taking too long to heal."

Hathier left the king and Galtara to speak as he walks into the first room. He's greeted by an exhausted Tauriel with a bandaged leg propped up on a spare chair, Luthrin fussing over her bleeding left arm, and the prince; out cold with grey skin and a wrapped chest. The wound is clearly not healing if the bloody bandages are anything to go by.

"Hathier," Tauriel breathes. "I'm glad to see you." He makes his way over to her and leans down hug her as gently as possible. Her tense form relaxes against him immediately.

"I'm glad you're alive," he whispers into her messy hair.

"We have missed you," Tauriel replies. "And we're sorry."

"Don't apologize to me. You did nothing wrong." He pulls away and turns to the prince. "What happened?"

"Outnumbered," she answers. "The two of us against 15 of them."

"Why did you two go out by yourselves?"

"I would like to know as well."

Hathier turns towards the door, sees the angry look on the king's face, and steps a step back.

"Your son outranks me, my lord. I am to follow the orders of my superiors."

When the king doesn't reply, Hathier takes the opportunity to get closer to the prince. His eyes are closed, sweat gleaming along his temple.

Maybe I can help, Hathier thinks. I can at least try.

"Do you have the plant known as 'dittany?'" Hathier asks before the silence stretches to an unbearable length.

"There's some on the outskirts of the kingdom," Galtara replies.

"Can you obtain some for me?" Hathier pulls out the silver ribbon he keeps in his breast pocket and ties his hair up. "I can help him with it."

"How so?" Luthrin asks. "What properties does dittany contain to heal such a wound?"

"It helps with poison," Hathier replies while taking a clean towel from the small table next to the prince's bed, dips it in the bowl of water next to it, and gently pats Prince Legolas' forehead. "And can heal wounds."

"Retrieve it at once," King Thranduil orders. "How much do you require?"

"As much as you can bring. Dittany can also be stored for future uses."

Luthrin's out the door not a moment later.

I've made many friends in this new world,

They help with the ache in my heart.

Losing them so soon will break it,

And I can't handle any more heartbreak.

I will save them,

I will save them. [2]

Many elves gather in the Healing House to watch Hathier create an antidote to heal the prince. No one bothers Hathier and Galtara as they work on mashing the plant into a thin paste, adding lemon juice to get rid of the dead skin cells. Luthrin stands off to the side, taking notes on the process. This process could - would - save lives in the future.

"You need to remove the bandages," Hathier states. "He's going to bleed more." Finally, he looks at the king with serious eyes. "This is going to hurt him because there's no pre-numbing agent."

"He will live?"

Hathier nods. "I guarantee it."

"Then continue."

With a nod, Hathier motions for a few elves to step forward. "Hold him down," he says with a stern voice.

Many elves gather around the prince, each grabbing a section outlining his body. At Galtara's nod, Hathier begins to pour the paste onto the wound. The reaction is instant. The prince jerks, mouth opening in a soundless cry. Even in his sleep, he shakes his head back and forth and tries to move his body away for the antidote.

When the bowl is empty, Hathier hands it to whoever is next to him and starts patting the mixture into the skin with a towel. In the middle of the process, he starts humming a tone. One unfamiliar to the elves, but one Hathier holds close to his heart. Prince Legolas' arching body drops unmoving onto the bed soon after.

"He's okay," Hathier states when he sees the look on the king's face. "He's exhausted. Physically and mentally."

Light green liquid starts pouring out of the wound once Hathier moves the towel away.

"Venom," he answers the unspoken question. "Start wiping it away. Don't burn it. Dittany is extremely flammable."

"It's already healing!" A shocked she-elf exclaims.

And it's true. The wound is slowly, but surely, closing. It takes but a minute and it's healed over completely. The newly healed skin is bright pink, but there is no evidence of a scar.

"Dittany," Hathier speaks to gather their attention, "can heal many wounds and cure most poisons. It can help with common illnesses. You can eat it raw. To help small wounds. It's most effective form is the paste."

Thank you for making me read that book, Hermione. You helped me save a friend, he thinks.

Hathier takes the clean towel from Galtara and dabs the prince's forehead. "He'll wake up soon."

And with that, he steps away. Everyone starts talking at once while Hathier slips out of the room with all intent and purpose to wash up. He feels disgusting and wants to bathe. He knows Prince Legolas is in good hands now.

They're in safe hands now,

Because you saved them.

You should be happy and proud,

At all the work you've done.

So why are you so upset?

Why are you crying? [3]

He skips out on dinner that night; too tired to do more than bathing and crawl into bed. If anyone came to get him for dinner, he sleeps right through it. But like most nights, he's drawn into the white forest.

"Will I be able to return...home? If only for a little bit?" Is the first thing he says when he opens his eyes and is greeted by the familiar place.

Yes.

"How long will I be able to stay?"

How long do you wish to stay?

"A week, perhaps? Enough time to see my friends and celebrate my godson's birthday?"

Of course.

Hathier hesitates.

You wish to bring others with you.

"I want them to see my life before coming here. Maybe they'll understand me better?"

They try to understand, child. They are often confused and wary, but also curious and willing to learn. They may be set in their ways, but you may change their minds and how they view those unlike them; unlike you.

"Unlike me?"

You are one of them, but also different. You have their appearance, but they do not have your abilities. You are unique. You are blessed.

"Why did you choose me?" He doesn't remember if he asked this already. It has been on his mind for some time why. Why was he chosen to take this journey? What made him so special beyond his scar?

Your soul cried out for relief. You were...in so much pain. I could not bear to let you suffer anymore.

"But you said that I would eventually deal with a war..."

Utopia does not exist, child. No world is without pain or suffering, war and loss. Some will gain, others will lose. You must decide where you stand when the times comes.

Hathier nods slowly. "Alright. When can I return?"

When you decide.

"Galtara travels to Dale in a few days and the anniversary is next week," he mumbles to himself.

You do not have to choose right now.

"I will need to soon. Really soon." He sighs. "How will I let you know when I'm ready to leave? How will the others know?"

When you're ready, I will provide a link for you to cross into your previous world. Only those you wish to bring can travel with you through it.

"Okay. Thank you."

I require no gratitude.

And he wakes up.

Edited - 9/10/2017

1, 2, & 3 - I wrote the lyrics.

If you have the time, please review.

~SiriuslyFallingInLove