Chapter Five

Coming back from the dead was so much harder than coming back from the brink of death. Her senses would always come back all at once, overloading her brain with too much information and leaving her in a state of shock for hours. However, unlike the last time, Ayla didn't wake up alone; Kwenthrith was there and was now attending to her every need, nursing her back to full strength. She had been moved into one of Durin's lavish guest wings, with all the comforts and finery that their host had been generous to offer. Ayla didn't remember where she was or the people who were with her. It all had to come back to her with time, which usually took a week for the majority of her amnesia to subside.

Ayla knew that her elven companions had a lot of burning questions, especially in regards to her "revival." Luckily they had the sense to keep those questions to themselves for now. Ayla was in no mood to answer their questions when she herself didn't have a satisfying answer. The worst part of it all was how Ayla had come to her own conclusion that she was somehow cursed to live forever without ever getting an answer herself, and the more answers she tried to come up with, the more it felt like an excuse to make herself feel better.

What a mess. she thought with a sigh as she looked out at the grey horizon from the main entrance of the mines. I'm no closer to an answer of why I'm here than I was from the start. All I know is that I need to keep searching. I want to go home. Her mind flashed to Thranduil and Legolas. Did she want to go home after everything? She wasn't the same woman anymore. She wasn't sure she was even human anymore.

"Lady Ayla, you should not be out here alone." Kwenthrith said, clearly concerned for Ayla's well-being. Ayla appreciated the concern that Kwenthrith showed, but wished the elven woman would simply leave her alone. As rare as it is, whenever Ayla was "reborn" from death, her real personality was hard to reign in. Her speech and manners would be harsh and unrefined. Her emotions were also all over the map that took awhile to get under control. All Ayla wanted to do from the moment she woke up from death was scream and cry and throw breakable things against the wall.

And do a lot of blow. Man she craved that the most whenever this happens.

"Lady Ayla?" Kwenthrith said, coming closer to Ayla.

"Don't," Ayla said, stopping the other woman. "I just need to be alone."

Once she knew she was alone again, Ayla let out a frustrated sigh. Along with feeling aggressive she was also feeling incredibly horny and the space away from others was all she could do from jumping on the next dick she came across. It was going to be agony recovering from death.

xxxxx

(Past)

Pamela and Ayla both came up from the tabletop in front of them, a finger to their noses as they sniffed. They were sitting in the backroom of a club together, finals for medical school completed and it was time to make use of the pills they still had left over from a previous party. Celebrating their achievement together by going out clubbing, getting an awesome buzz, letting loose, and ultimately leaving with a guy (maybe two).

This was stop number three of the night, and this was hit number…Ayla lost count.

Ayla didn't think she would find such a close friendship with Pamela, but she did. From the very first day of medical school they bonded over how much they had in common without even realizing. The most important is that they both were practical in a sense where their approaches to life centered around from using basic common sense (most of the time).

"Let's let our party goblins out! WOOO!" Pamela cheered.

They both left their booth and went out towards the dance floor. High off drugs and with alcohol in her system, Ayla let herself get lost in the pulsing music and strobing lights and grinding, sweaty bodies. At some point during the night, for some unknown reason, Ayla felt like she needed to leave the club. She looked around for Pamela who had vanished in the throngs of swaying and grinding bodies. Ayla pushed her way through the jungle of party-goers, her vision slightly impaired and her head swaying, or was that just her? She managed to get back to their booth and found Pamela engaged with a stranger, dry humping in the booth.

"Pam! Paaaaam! C'mon, let's go!" Ayla slurred.

"I'll catch up with you." Pamela said, still grinding against her stranger while she looked over her shoulder at Ayla. Her eyes glazed from the drugs and booze. "Tell me your story tomorrow."

Ayla turned away and walked towards the exit as best as she could, going through the backdoor into the alleyway. The cold air sobering enough to give her the sense to walk out onto the main sidewalk where there were people. Still high and drunk (and in heels that were really killing her feet) Ayla took out her phone and looked up her ex-boyfriend's contact number, drunk texting him that she still loved him before turning her phone off.

What street was she on?

Her shabby apartment is in Salt City and she and Pamela started off their night in Northgate. Looking up at the street signs and landmarks, Ayla found that she was too fucked up to read. She covered one eye, thinking it might help her focus on the letters but that didn't help. She began to walk a few blocks before realizing that the reason why she couldn't read any of the store and street signs was because she was in the International District of Seattle.

WTF?!

"Well…no wonder," she slurred, feeling like she was going to vomit but managed to keep it down as she walked towards the train station. Did she bring her orca card for the train? Was the train still running at…what time is it? She dug around in her purse for her phone to check the time but was too messed up to find it.

Fuck it, it's probably too late for a train or bus.

Maybe an Uber. There's her phone! Why was her phone off? How do you turn it on again?

A car pulled up on the curb in front of her. It was a sleek car that wasn't uncommon in Seattle but what was uncommon was the driver of the car.

"That was fast." she slurred, her eyes squinting down at the black screen of her phone. "When did I…?"

"You shouldn't be out here alone." came a masculine, velvety voice that wrapped invisible tendrils around Ayla's brain, enchanting her in her drunken stupor. "Get in, I'll take you home."

As if under a spell she got in the car against her better judgment. She looked at the man, unable to focus on his features; all she could gather was that he had pale skin and platinum blonde hair. The faint smell of cedar and spice filled the car. Finally in silence, Ayla blacked out from her night out with Pamela. When she next woke up she was still in the car, her clothes were still on, and her brain was still in a swamp. The only difference was that the car was parked outside her apartment building. She looked over to the mystery driver who was still out of focus. She was sure he was talking to her but she wasn't on the same mental plain as him.

Her next actions could simply be blamed on the alcohol as she moved closer to him and kissed him on the lips. He obviously didn't push her away as she made out with this mystery Samaritan. Ayla had the idea of straddling him in his seat but her stomach had other plans as the need to vomit overtook everything and she pushed away quickly and opened the door on her side, her head hanging out as she heaved and purged most of the alcohol she had consumed that night. She felt his hand on her back which sent a signal to her brain that she needed to get out and go home.

The question of who he was. Why he helped her. Why he knew where she lived. All of that never came to mind as she only had enough cognitive functioning to focus on getting through the front door of her apartment. Waking up on her couch the next morning, flat on her face, head throbbing and sore from the night before was proof that she survived yet another night of poor decisions. Ayla slowly got up, her hands completely numb from sleeping with her whole body weight on top of them. Her hands were useless, bloated flippers attached to her wrists until the feeling returned.

"Fuuuuuuck." she groaned, trying to get her bearings. She was in her living room, she was still in her party dress, and she had lost one of her heels. Her mouth tasted like vomit and regret. On the plus side, her crowning achievement of that night was that she didn't die. Ayla looked to her phone, finding that it had been turned off. She turned it on and discovered she had ten text messages and missed calls, all from her ex. Why would he be texting her?

"Gotta pee." she grumbled, getting up and kicking off her remaining heel she shuffled her feet to the bathroom and cleaned herself up. Looking at herself in the mirror she saw on the left side of her face was—Is that a cushion scar? She obviously got it from sleeping so hard on the pillow. Getting undressed, Ayla needed to get back into routine and wash away the night before.

"How did I get home last night?"

xxxxx

(Present)

Kwenthrith and Arlen watched Ayla gorge herself in beer and red meat with the other dwarves. Ever since Ayla's revival she had been acting strange, like a dormant part of her personality had woken up. She spoke with less reservation and was allowing herself to become inebriated with drink, almost as if this was the real Ayla and not the passionate, caring woman who healed their prince. Kwenthrith felt very disillusioned by this new Ayla and saw this woman to be a stranger with her friend's face. Excusing herself, Kwenthrith walked out of the hall, hugging herself. She wasn't used to feeling this way and she didn't like it. The one person she thought she knew wasn't who she thought she was. In fact, when it came to Ayla, Kwenthrith only knew from what she saw and what little that had been willingly shared.

"Kwenthrith, are you feeling unwell?" Arlen asked, coming up behind her.

"Yes, I am very unwell." she said, "She's not herself, Arlen. She's changed. I feel like that woman in there is an imposter and I don't know how to approach the situation."

"She went through a lot. We went through a lot." Arlen said, trying to sooth the elf maiden with reason. "It would be unfair for Lady Ayla if we were to abandon her because she is acting unlike herself."

"What if she never comes back?" Kwenthrith asked, voicing her fear.

"I know you and Ayla are close, but is that not all the reason more to stay with her? This phase may pass and she will return to her normal self." Arlen said, trying to be reassuring.

"I fear that the woman inside there is the real Ayla and the one we know was one of her possibly many masks." Kwenthrith said.

"If you love her then you should give her time. We will be leaving this place soon." Arlen said.

For the next two weeks, Ayla returned to full health and the small group of three was ready to leave. Kwenthrith held onto the hope that her Ayla will return, even if it were just an act. Losing her was heart breaking and getting her back brought more joy than her heart could hold onto. She loved Ayla dearly, so much so that she needed to protect the memory of the woman she knew. When they reached the halfway point down the mountain where the paths split they stopped and Ayla turned to look back at them.

"This is where we part ways." she said curtly.

Arlen and Kwenthrith were both perplexed by the sudden change in plans.

"Why? Why do you want to part?" Kwenthrith asked, unable to conceal the hurt in her voice.

"It is not safe to be out here alone." Arlen said.

"Listen, I've been travelling around for years on my own, and I did just fine. My recent death and coming back from that only exposes me to questions I know you have about me of which I don't have answers to." Ayla said, feeling herself getting upset with every word. "I can't face you both and pretend like nothing happened."

"Ayla, of course we have questions. You came back from the dead and your entire demeanor has changed!" Kwenthrith said.

"I haven't changed, Kwen! I'm just angry!" Ayla yelled.

"Angry about what?" Kwenthrith asked.

"I'm angry because I'm still stuck in this world!" Ayla revealed, giving the two elves pause. "Yeah! That's the look I expected. I'm not from your world. I come from a world where elves and dwarves and orcs are all fantasy and make believe and every morning when I wake up still here in this renaissance faire is another morning of disappointment!"

Kwenthrith didn't know what to say, lost for words as she struggled to comprehend this new information. And also very insulted.

"You both might be immortal but if you had an axe buried in your chest you wouldn't live. And you most certainly won't resurrect afterwards." Ayla said, hitting a cord in Kwenthrith. The human woman in front of her was cold and spoke too brashly. This wasn't the Ayla she knew, the Ayla she knew was kind and careful with her words (only once had she ever seen Ayla become cross and that was back when she first arrived in Mirkwood). "I'm sorry it has to be this way for the both of you to get a rude wake-up call, but I don't belong here and so I need to find my way home…alone."

Ayla adjusted the weight of her pack and turned away from them, heading down the path that went deeper into the mountain path. To see her turn her back on them so easily, broke Kwenthrith's heart.

"Humans truly are the cruelest of creatures." Kwenthrith said softly as a tear fell down her cheek.

xxxxx

(Past)

Ayla's cellphone rang on her coffee table while she was in the middle of eating her third bowl of Cocoa Puffs cereal and watching terrible daytime soap operas. She looked at the caller ID and saw that it was Pamela calling. She set her bowl down and answered it.

"Ayla! You need to come out with us right now." came Pamela's voice while in the background she could hear another woman talking.

"Okay, why?" Ayla asked.

"Ayla! I miss you!" said the woman in the background.

"Who is that?" Ayla asked.

"Stacy got a head start on her bachelorette party. We're going to Bellevue tonight, remember?" Pamela said. Of course, one of their friends was getting married right after her marriage fell apart. It was just a beautiful irony that the bride-to-be was also the woman who was helping her finalize her divorce.

"I wanna fuck a stranger!" Stacy said in the background.

"I thought we were meeting up at seven." Ayla said, though deep down she didn't want to leave her house (the house she once shared with her soon-to-be ex-husband).

"We are with the rest of the girls but I need your help getting Stacy sobered up before that." Pamela said.

"Are you sure she's drunk and not just being herself?" Ayla asked. Their friend Stacy was from their university days who was notorious for being the Sorority Pledge to have had a threesome during a frat party with people watching. Stacy was the type who craved to be the center of attention.

"Hmm, she does have that minty breath smell on her. I wonder how much mouth wash she might have had. Anyways, please come to my condo ASAP. Or do you want to stay at home all day eating cereal and watching TV?"

Ayla glanced down at her bowl of cereal, the brown balls now soggy and clumping together in the milk. With a sigh Ayla promised to meet Pamela and Stacy in an hour. In truth, Ayla really did want to just stay at home and have herself a pity party of one. Her divorce with her husband hadn't been finalized just yet, and she was still grieving from the events that led up to the divorce. The image of his head popping up from between her half-sister's legs with his mouth covered in her smegma was enough of a reason for her to throw the nearest thing at him (which just so happened to be his prized crystal duck that she hated). She of course missed because he had ducked away but at least the duck shattered into a thousand, satisfying pieces.

She kicked both of them out of her house, but not before punching her half-sister in the face and giving the entitled bitch a broken nose. Ayla had then gone into a rage, letting out everything as she took all of his clothes and threw them into garbage bags. Ayla then had the idea of taking her soon-to-be-ex's clothes to the nearest thrift store, which she did with Pamela's help.

Five jumbo-sized garbage bags later, Pamela called up their friend Stacy, who, ironically, was a lawyer who specialized in divorces. Fast-forward six weeks later, Ayla was getting away with everything in the divorce. She got the house; everything in the house, including her ex's beloved BMW, which she vengefully plans to sell to a well known garage that sold parts. And it wasn't stopping there; she had boxed all of his collectibles from books she saw no value in keeping to his stupid action figures that had been taking up space on the shelves for a garage sale she will have soon. It wasn't quite as satisfying but it was a start.

Finally, she had put the house up on the market.

Since announcing her impending divorce, Ayla had been receiving harassing phone calls from Greg's family (the worst part was that Greg's mother and her mother were evil friends). It didn't seem to matter to Carla (Greg's mother) that her son was the one who cheated on her, trying to turning it around on Ayla and blame it all on her. The phone calls were so hostile and so frequent that Ayla had to ask Stacy to also help her file for a Cease and Desist Order to stop all the harassment.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, Ayla had gone to Pamela's condo which was four blocks away from hers. Upon arrival, Ayla was met with the sight of Stacy sucking on a popsicle like a cock.

"Well, I guess she's getting ready." Ayla said dryly.

"She's starting to sober up," Pamela said, "Apparently she took an extra xanax this morning."

"Are Becky and Amber on their way?"

"Yeah, I just texted them, they'll meet us there tonight."

Becky and Amber were two other friends from their university days. Though after graduating with a Bachelors degree Amber had gotten an internship to study art in Paris before accepting a job as a freelance photographer for some magazine; and Becky went on to marry some corporate CEO of some major company she forgot the name of. It was rare for all five of them to be together at the same time, and normally such a gathering was for special occasions. Weddings, anniversaries, and of course the annual New Year's Eve night where they would sit inside a diner downtown and watch stupid drunk twenty-something year olds making the bracing 3 AM walk in skimpy dresses and no jackets and reminisce when they were twenty-somethings and stupid.

Ayla had to admit that she loved these crazy bitches.

Pamela hugged Ayla, "Thanks for coming tonight. I know you're still dealing with a lot."

"Anything for my girls." Ayla said.

xxxxx

(Present)

Three days went by and Ayla was no closer to where she wanted to be. She had travelled a great distance on foot in just three days with the mountain in the far distance now. She had forgotten how lonely it was to be travelling solo, but she had to lose the two elves, they were just slowing her down with their constant caution and worry. Ayla eventually came to the edge of another forest, this time there was no ominous feeling. There was the sound of birds chirping and insects humming. She saw deer and wild boars traipsing about without a care of her presence, often just staring at her before returning to what they were doing. It was…nice. Peaceful even. Even the air smelled sweet and earthy. Soon she came across the beginning of a beaten path which she followed, not at all afraid or worried of where it would lead her. Why should she worry? It's not like she couldn't come back from the dead.

It took her another day and a half before she came upon the first residents of this uncharted land. To her surprise the people were small, coming up to her waist. Their homes were inside mounds and hills with lush gardens and farm animals. The small residence would run and hide into their homes, closing the round wooden doors behind them and peeking out from their small round windows as she walked by. The further she went, the more small people she saw.

"Have I gone to Oz and not realize?" she wondered aloud.

"Who—who are you stranger?" came a quivering voice behind her. Ayla turned around and looked down at a portly man, looking up at her nervously. "W-we don't want any trouble here. W-we're peaceful folk h-here."

Curious, Ayla crouched down to his level. "I don't mean any harm. I'm a doctor, just travelling around and helping anyone who needs me."

"A doctor?" the portly man asked, his quivering voice calming down.

"Yes. I'm Ayla."

"I'm Baldo, Baldo Baggins."

"Can you tell me where I am, Baldo?"

Baldo looked at her in surprise like it was obvious where she was. "Why, you're in Hobbiton."

"And what are you, if you don't mind me asking."

Again, he gave her a look like it was obvious. "Why, I'm a hobbit."

"Hobbit?" she said curiously, it was definitely a word she never heard of, but then again, she shouldn't be surprised at this point. She noticed that the other hobbits were starting to slowly come out, seeing that Baldo was talking to her with no fear.

"Are you simply passing through or do you have time to stay for second breakfast?" Baldo asked. Not one to turn away from an invitation for food, Ayla accepted to stay for a meal. She learned quite a deal about the hobbits, how they were peaceful folk who enjoy the simple pleasures of farming, eating, drinking and smoking. The smoking part was what peaked Ayla's interest, since it had been years since she had a good smoke.

And man, was it good tobacco. In fact, it didn't even smell like the tobacco she was used to. No harsh chemicals and poison mixed in the leaves, and the best part, it was the closest thing to marijuana that she had come across, maybe even better. It definitely gave her a good buzz. Ayla also learned that same evening that hobbits loved to have an excuse to party. The beer and wine they made was sweet and satisfying, their food well seasoned and delicious. It was easy to see why Hobbits were so pleasant and carefree.

xxxxx

(Past)

"Stacy! Get over here!" Becky called. It was late, and the five ladies were waiting for their Uber to pick them up. Of course they were all drunk, but none of them were as hazed as Stacy, who was currently bent over, looking into a stranger's car and talking to the driver. She looked like a common hooker at that moment.

"You guys!" Stacy said from across the street, looking back at her girlfriends. "You guys, he's gonna give us a ride!"

"Stacy, you're drunk! Our ride will be here soon!" Becky said.

"Stacy, get back here!" Amber said.

"He's not going to—" Stacy began before mouthing; "He's not going to rape us!"

"She's mouthing the word rape." Pamela said, clicking her tongue.

Ayla just yawned, tired and ready for the night to be over. "Right, because if that was his intention you don't want to offend him ahead of time."

"You guys!" Stacy called again.

Becky then crossed the street, grabbed Stacy by the hand, and walked her back across the street to the rest of the group. Stacy was complaining the entire time of how she was cold and that she needed to pee. Luckily their ride finally arrived and the five of them piled into the van. Stacy immediately fell asleep.

"Next time the five of us get together we'll have to put a cap on how many shots this girl can have." said Amber. The other three agreed without contest.

xxxxx

(Present)

Her stay in the Shire had been short-lived and with regret, Ayla left to continue on her goalless journey. The Shire, as charming as it was, didn't have what she was looking for. In fact, she didn't know what she was looking for anymore and it depressed her. Her wandering took her west into vast grasslands and endless sky. Ayla couldn't help but let her mind wander to Kwenthrith and the hurt that shown within her violet gaze. The one friend she made and of course, Ayla being stubborn and emotional, pushed the poor woman away. At the very least, Ayla can safely say that the time alone allowed her to process through the messy hurricane of emotions after coming back from the dead and she was now calm and in control again (mostly).

Finding a stream, Ayla dropped down to her knees and dunked her waterskin into it, filling it up before drinking a greedy mouthful. The cool, crisp water soothed her dry mouth and throat as she drank deeply, feeling the coolness fill up in her empty stomach. One good thing about her mysterious immortality was her inability to drop dead from starvation or thirst, but it didn't stop her from feeling those needs (among other things). After drinking her fill, Ayla sat back on her heels and closed her eyes, letting herself relax. Her skin was dry and her lips were chapped, and she had no doubt that she was sunburned (what a time to worry about skin cancer). Her body ached from having to sleep on the ground every night and wished she was back in the Woodland Realm, resting in her own bed underneath a warm blanket and her body pillowed on the soft mattress. She always did have a bad habit of taking the little things for granted.

You just had to be stubborn and insist on leaving. she thought bitterly, You had to, for once, be moral and doctorly and think about helping people instead of helping yourself. Who the fuck am I becoming? Do I even want to go back to being that Ayla? Who only cared about herself and had no interest in connecting with her patients? Do I…?

Her traitorous mind brought up the image of Legolas and his sweet smile. She had always liked children, she had even wanted to be a mother but it turned out that the universe had other plans for her. Legolas was the first to break down her walls, warming her cold heart and reminding her why she became a doctor. She dared to admit that she missed him. She also missed Thranduil and their petty squabbling (and his cock) and their evening talks over bottles of wine (and his cock) and the occasional moments of kindness he would show her (and his cock).

How long has it been now since leaving Greenwood? Damnit, she hated it when she had no sense of time. Not only was she bad at directions she was also bad at keeping track of her days.

A whoosh and a thunk snapped Ayla back to the present as her eyes popped open and she saw a black arrow sticking into the ground right in front of her. Startled, she scrambled up onto her feet and looked ahead of her. In the distance she could just make out someone riding the back of a horse. No, that's not a horse. Holy shit!

Panicked, Ayla turned and ran. Fuck! She was going to die—AGAIN!

And this time there was no place for her to hide. She could hear her pursuers screeching and blowing their horns, the beasts they rode snarled and howled for the chase. Ayla let out a scream when an arrow stuck into her back, making her trip and fall on her face. Adrenaline and fear motivated her to get back up and keep running. She didn't want to die again. Dying sucked and coming back from the dead sucked even more. She screamed again when another arrow struck her, this time in the back of her left thigh. Falling again, Ayla couldn't allow herself to get caught. She didn't like pain and torture.

Through her tears and sobs she almost missed the sound of another horn blaring through the air. Almost missed the difference in the sound. But her vision was blurring from the tears but from something else, too. Were the arrows poisoned? She felt the ground beneath her trembling and heard the thundering sound of hooves beating into the earth. She looked up just in time to see a blur of white and gold rushing past her, kicking up air and dirt. Then nothing.

When Ayla next awoke, she was lying in a soft bed, inside a beautiful room or gold and veined marble. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and her back and left leg ached. But so far as she can tell, she was alive. Slowly she rolled onto her side, her back protested but she ignored it as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. She rubbed her eyes and blinked a few times before looking taking in her surroundings. There was an open walkway out onto the balcony, allowing air to circulate through the room. Her room was well furnished with all the comforts a room should have. Just by eyeing the craftsmanship alone Ayla knew immediately that she was in another elven domain.

She most certainly was not back in Greenwood otherwise she would be smelling the scent of fir and earth. Here, there was no definite smell of a forest, just a hint of something that was similar to burning incense. This place was definitely not Lothlorien, either, it was too bright and open here. So where the hell was she? Moving her legs over the edge of the bed, she cautiously stood up, feeling her left leg twinge a little with a sharp pain, making her wince but it didn't hurt enough to keep her in bed. Limping a bit, she managed to walk over to the closest column, leaning heavily against it for support before edging over to the balcony and bracing her hands against the rail.

A gentle breeze blew by, caressing her warmed skin and tugging playfully at the clean chemise she was wearing. Looking out at the scenery she was blown away by how beautiful this place was, hidden away within a valley. It was so colorful and serene, making her feel almost tranquil within.

"I'm glad to see you have awoken." came a male voice. Ayla was startled by the interruption, turning a little too quickly and making her groan in pain. "You prove to be more resilient than I had expected, your wounds had healed within minutes after the arrows had been removed."

Ayla turned completely to face the stranger, not at all surprised to see an elf. Though this elf had dark hair and his fair features were much sharper but beautiful all the same, as all elves were from her experience. Though there was something vaguely familiar about him, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"Have we…met? Before?" Ayla asked, still trying to remember where she had seen him, if she had seen him at all in her past. She's lived a rather long time and so many faces have come and gone. Only elves and some dwarves stuck out.

He gave her a gentle smile as he walked up to her, his movements graceful and fluid. "You have quite the memory, I would have expected you to not remember me at all as we have only met once before. Many, many years ago."

"When was that?"

"The war against Sauran had just been won when King Isildur's men had found you, bandaging the wound of an orc. I had been present when King Isildur released you from the dungeons to help with the wounded. You had even tended to some of my own. Our meeting at the time was brief, but it had been enough to allow me to remember the strange woman who did not see enemy or ally, just people in need of help."

"Well, that's quite the glowing praise. You should be careful about putting those out there, might give me a big ego." Ayla said, earning an amused smile. "So are you the one who saved me?"

"I am the one who tended to your injuries, yes."

"Ah, then thank you for that."

"You are most welcome, my lady." he said with a slight bow. "I will send for someone to bring you something to eat."

"Before you go, can you tell me where I am, please?"

"You are in Rivendell, my lady. And it is an honor to finally have the Lady Healer as my honored guest."

"Rivendell?" Ayla blinked up at him and then it came back to her, where she remembered him. "Ah! El-something!"

If he was insulted he was very polite in hiding it as he gave Ayla an indulgent smile. "Yes, I am Elrond, the Ruler of Rivendell."

"Elrond, that's the name." Ayla said, "And call me Ayla. Lady Healer is too formal for my taste."

"As you wish, Ayla." he said, her name sounding like a purr off his tongue and Ayla felt heat rising in her cheeks and it obviously didn't go unnoticed as she caught a flash of a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Rivendell was breathtaking and Ayla took full advantage of exploring the place. Lord Elrond was generous and trusting of Ayla, allowing her access wherever she pleased in his house. Unlike a certain Elvenking who liked to kept her under lock and key. Elrond also didn't go out of his way to annoy or elicit and argument out of her. Ayla found a certain, comfortable companionship with Elrond, healing people being their common trade and exchanged tips. Elrond taught her which plants and herbs were medicinal and which were poisonous and in turn she showed him surgical techniques should his elven magic fail.

Before Ayla knew it, an entire season had passed and had given way to winter, and Ayla found herself constantly thinking about a certain Elvenking and his son. She wondered what they were up to, if they were doing well. For once, she longed to be with them, to return to Greenwood. It had become a home to her without her knowing it. Perhaps once the snow melted she will travel back to Greenwood just to see them again. Should she send a message to give them a heads-up?

"Lady Ayla, you have guests." announced a servant, and before she could step aside to make way for the guests a little blonde head barreled past her.

"Naneth!"

Ayla didn't have time to react or set her sketchbook down when the little body pounced on her. It was a good thing she was still sitting otherwise she would have been knocked over.

"Oh my goodness!" Ayla exclaimed, her hands flying to the small body. She was grinning before she realized it, hugging the boy back. She really did miss her little prince, making it hard to deny that she had changed as she pushed Legolas back enough to get a good look at him. "Look at you! You're almost grown up."

Legolas beamed at her with a boyish grin. He looked healthy and obviously had grown a lot more but he was still a boy, giving Ayla some sense of how long she had been away. Shit, he's starting to look more like his father. Speaking of…Ayla looked past Legolas to see the beautiful Elvenking standing in her doorway, looking so statuesque and untouchable. A forbidden fruit that she craved like a drug addict craved for their next fix. Thranduil met her eyes and gave her an elegant nod of his head towards her. Ayla couldn't do more than just smile at him even though what she really wanted to do was jump the man and have her wicked way with him.

She had to refrain. Think of things that aren't sexy. Granny panties. Sad puppies. Her mother.

Legolas regaled Ayla of what she had missed, how he was learning archery and how boring his studies were. He practically gushed about how much he missed her and then told her about his pony and so forth until he tired himself out and fell asleep with his head resting on her thigh. She fondly stroked his soft hair, reminded of the times she did this for him back in Greenwood when he wouldn't go to sleep.

Thranduil was seated adjacent to them, watching them quietly. The past two years Legolas has done nothing but pester him as to when his Naneth would return home. It pulled at his heart knowing that his son thought of Ayla as his mother, having only him as a parent and Thranduil was ashamed to admit that he failed as a father. In the short duration of her stay, Ayla had been everything to Legolas, from his healer to his caregiver, she had been the one to indulge the boy and made him happy. She had become his mother inadvertently through Thranduil's orders of caring for him. Ayla had become important to both their lives by accident.

Or was is fate?

"He missed you a great deal." Thranduil said.

"I missed him, too." Ayla said, looking up at the Elvenking and felt her beat thundering with nerves in her chest. Mustering up her nerve, she gave him a cocky smirk. "I even missed you, for what it's worth."

A smile, however slight, graced Thranduil's lips. His usual calculative and critical stare were gentle and, dare she think it, inviting.

"Legolas has already asked you if you are to return to Greenwood with us, and I am curious to know your answer." Thranduil said.

Ayla's throat felt tight and she had to swallow to loosen it up (although that trick never worked). She wanted to go back. She really did, but she was scared. She was scared of settling down in one place. Scared of the possibility that should the opportunity of her going home to Seattle presented itself she would regret her choice of staying or leaving. Scared of the feelings she was having towards a man she feared would strip her raw and abandon her. She was afraid to commit to him. Of opening her heart to him. Of losing him.

She bit her lower lip, her anxiety showing and clueing Thranduil in that she had her reservations. He understood her hesitation, or at least, he hoped he did, considering how their personal history together had started off with a less than ideal storybook beginning. And though he tried to fight it he grew more fascinated by the woman and the world she came from, painting his grey world with color. In that short season she had made a place in his heart. She had brought him a comfort he had not felt in ages, not since before his wife had passed; but even then the comfort he had felt with his wife had felt restrained by tradition and protocol. With Ayla, the comfort she gave, regardless if she had been conscious of it or not, was limitless and unconditional. It was freely given.

With Ayla, he didn't worry about his son being happy and well. He, himself, no longer felt alienated by his status as king. She did not treat him the way his people did, hedging around him like a venomous viper. She looked at him directly and spoke her mind without formalities. Yet she hesitated with her answer because he had not made his intentions clear.

"I want you to come back with us, Ayla. Not just for my son's sake, but because I, too, have missed your presence."

She released her bottom lip, now red and slightly swollen, begging for him to suck between his own teeth before devouring her mouth.

"I'll need some time to think on it." she finally said. Thranduil nodded when in truth he wanted to draw upon his authority and demand that she return.

"Very well, then."