Chapter Six

Ayla sat at a table with five other girls, all of them tasked with a project to reflect "positive thinking." At fifteen years of age, Ayla was moving up in the world of troubled teens with the angsty attitude with the mindset that the world is a terrible place and nobody understands. Staring down at her poster that was meant to inspire, Ayla just wanted to stick her fingers down her throat and vomit like there is no tomorrow.

"Ayla, what would you like to share with the group?" asked the counselor.

"This is total bullshit." Ayla said, alerting everyone at the table to her attention. "You just go around to everyone, telling us that we're strong and that we'll get through this and that you understand; but you don't. You're not seeing things from our perspective. We obviously hate ourselves, that's why we're here. Society's idea of how we should look, think, wear, act, and weigh. It's nothing but chaotic attacks against us to the point of paralysis and the only way we feel in control is what we do to ourselves."

The counselor frowned, "And your so-called control is what landed you here. So share with the group what your poster says to inspire everyone."

Ayla picked up her poster, turning it around to show to the group. In cut-out letters it read: Suck my skinny balls.

The very next day Ayla was sitting in the back seat of her mother's Sante Fe, being driven home in complete silence. Of course, once they were on the freeway did the monolog begin. "This is the fourth facility you got yourself kicked out of, Ayla. Fourth! We're running out of places to go. I'm gonna have to start looking out of State to get you the help you need. I'll have to call around for a doctor you haven't insulted."

Pulling up into the driveway her mother was the first to get out of the car, slamming the door shut. Her younger half-siblings and the nanny came out to the front door to meet them. She saw the looks her half-siblings gave her, probably thinking how much better off they would be if she had never come home. She didn't care what the nanny had to say, she was just hired help.

"Go upstairs and clean up for dinner." her mother said without even looking at her. "Olga, bring in the bags, will you?"

Going upstairs Ayla went straight to her room; everything had been left the way it was. Her bed was still made, her posters of her favorite bands and pictures of anatomy were still on the walls. She walked over to her vanity, taking off the thick jacket she looked at her reflection in the mirror, not recognizing the skinny skeleton staring back at her. She was only gone for two weeks this time, a personal record on her part. She took off her shirt and then stared at her body, her ribs showing, her shoulders, elbows and wrists were all knobby while her pale skin looked like it had been pulled too tight over her bones.

She looked away and went to her dresser, digging out a sweater to hide her body. She then went to her vanity again, sitting down on the chair and pulling open the top drawer and pulled out her journal. It wasn't much of a journal, no words were written, just doodles and drawings, all in black ink.

"I hate this place."

xxxxx

(Present)

A young girl coughed into her hands, her whole body shaking from it. Ayla could see even through the girl's raggedy clothing that she was malnourished. Feeling down her spine Ayla felt every vertebrae beneath her fingers. Every single person she saw today was malnourished and sick and on the verge of dropping dead from starvation. An epidemic of famine had spread through Rohan and disease was spreading like wildfire, already having reached near the southern borders of Greenwood.

It took little convincing on her part to have Thranduil agree to let her take some of his healers to aid the humans. After a week of tending to the sick, the supply of medicine had ran out and yet more sick people came in droves. It was upsetting to leave so many people untreated. Again Ayla was lamenting about how she used to be, how she purposely distanced herself from her patients because she didn't want to care. Seeing these poor people…it broke her heart. Especially the children, all skin and bones with terrible coughs. Years of disappointment and heartbreak certainly jaded her, making her a poor doctor until she came to Middle Earth (still unsure of how that even happened).

She had to start thinking of inventive ways to help these people. To start off, she had to deal with managing their pain. Over her many years in Middle Earth she had to relearn medicine because of the limited medicine that was available. She learned from apothecaries and herbalists about the medicines that were available. Even the elves had taught her about plants and their properties, minus the magic part of course. She noticed poppies growing like weeds in the area, pretty purple flowers with a black center. The majority of the flowers were still pods and it gave her the idea to harvest the milk from them to make opium to help her patients deal with the pain. Maybe her wasted nights of random Google searching paid off after all.

xxxxx

(Past)

"I've gotten you an appointment with a doctor who has a very successful reputation of rehabilitating his patients with problems like yours." said her mother while the family were sitting at the dining table for dinner. "This is the last doctor in the state we haven't seen yet, so don't mess this up and get your act together."

Ayla ignored her mother while she pushed her food around on her plate, separating the steamed vegetables into groups and cutting her steak into exact size. If her mother thought she could control her life, she at least could control what goes into her body.

"Ayla, do you hear me?" Her half-siblings looked at her, waiting for the show to begin while Ayla continued to hold onto what little control of her world she had. "Ayla!"

"Ayla, answer your mother," said her step-father.

"May I be excused?" Ayla asked, finally looking up from her organized plate.

"You're going to see this doctor and you're going to get over this ridiculous teenage rebellion." her mother said.

Ayla just stood up and left the dinner table to go up to her room. Her dinner uneaten. After returning to her room Ayla felt compelled to exercise and immediately began to do sit-ups. She did this twice a day, once in the morning and once at night before bed. Once she did a hundred sit-ups she'll go and stand in front of the mirror to look at herself, seeing what she was doing to herself gave her a feeling of satisfaction, because it was her body and she had control of her body.

Then there was the last ritual of the day, every night, before going to bed, she would circle her fingers around her upper arm, measuring how close she could bring her middle finger to her thumb. Tonight, they still didn't touch. By morning, after doing her ritual of sit-ups and then looking at herself in the mirror, she got ready for the day and went downstairs to make her usual breakfast—a large big gulp sized cup of ice filled to the top and diet cola. Of course this morning was different, her step-father was waiting for her and so her morning routine was interrupted as she was taken to meet this so-called great doctor.

"I had to ask your father to pull in this favor to get you in to see this doctor." he said.

"Whatever." Ayla said, staring out the car window. "It's not like you care, anyhow."

xxxxx

(Present)

An elderly man choked and coughed from the warm liquid that had been poured into his dry mouth as his wife spoon fed him broth. The sound alone made Ayla cringe as she walked by, carrying a bucket of dirty rags that will need to be washed and then boiled for sterilization. The elves of Lorien had been sent to help aid the camp of sick humans. Ayla was grateful for the help that was brought as more medicine was dispensed (and she was able to put the idea of making opium painkillers on the backburner). Daily more people made their way to the camp as word had spread that the elves were healing the sick only to be surprised that it was a human woman who was healing the people while the elves assisted.

Ayla saw more than just cases of pneumonia and hunger, she was seeing severe infection and obvious growths of malignant nature. With limited resources and no access to the modern medicine she was trained with she had to rely on Kwenthrith and the other elven healers who had a more extensive knowledge of herbal medicine. She remembered some of what Elrond had taught about which herbs were for what but it came down to Kwenthrith whose knowledge and expertise shone brightly, teaching Ayla the proper preparations (again she thought of the poppies).

In turn Ayla showed the elves and some of the humans who stayed to help how to detect illness. She even showed them simple field medicine that her father had taught her when he was in the army, making splints out of everyday objects and emergency slings from rags. She explained the importance of a clean area, for example how one bowl of cleaning water could not be shared between multiple people because of cross-contamination. She also explained that it was just as important to clean your own hands as much as possible in between patients to avoid further infection for the patient and for themselves. With those basic lessons in place Ayla began to see less and less new faces arriving in the coming weeks.

The elves of Lorien had returned to their woods shortly before a message arrived from Greenwood from the Elvenking. It had been a short message, which didn't come as a surprise to Ayla. The message had read that she and his healers return as word had reached him that the epidemic has reached its end and so on and so forth.

"What does the message say?" Kwenthrith asked as she rinsed her hands in a fresh bowl of water.

"It basically says: you're done, come home. Typical." Ayla said with an annoyed click of her tongue. The doctor didn't miss the light giggle from the elf as she dried her hands on cloth.

"It sounds to me that the King misses you and is impatient for your return." Kwenthrith said, taking the written missive from Ayla, noticing there was a second page that had been missed and her smile reached her violet eyes as she handed it to Ayla. "It would also appear that our prince misses his naneth."

Ayla's face immediately softened into a warm smile, seeing the second page was from Legolas who wrote in a semi-neat hand that he was waiting impatiently for her to return home. Ayla snickered, reading on about Legolas complaining about his father being in a sour mood since she left and that her coming back will make his father feel better. Ayla folded the letter and walked towards her tent that had served as her temporary home, sharing the cramped space with Kwenthrith for the past two months. She searched for a piece of parchment and a quill and ink, finding a quill and an empty ink bottle but no parchment.

"Oh well," she shrugged, going back out and finding the messenger had followed her. "Please inform Lord Thranduil and Prince Legolas that I will return once the last of my patients are well enough to return to their homes."

The messenger shifted on his feet. "Lord Thranduil had ordered that if you were to say that then I must bring you back by force."

A burst of laughter escaped Ayla, taking her time to laugh it out before she had calmed down enough and patted the messenger on the shoulder. "I'm not leaving these people. I am their doctor and it is my duty to see them get better."

"But my Lady, Lord Thranduil was clear in his order of you returning to Greenwood." said the messenger.

Ayla just shook her head, patting his shoulder once more before moving past him to make her rounds to the remaining people. Kwenthrith took her place before the messenger.

"Please send Lord Thranduil the message Lady Ayla has passed to you; adding that if he wishes for her return sooner then he must come for her himself." Kwenthrith said with a wry smile.

xxxxx

(Past)

"If you don't start gaining weight I'll have to put in the order to tube you." said Dr. Longbow, the doctor who was overseeing Ayla's rehabilitation. "Since you've joined this program you've lost three pounds."

Ayla stared out the window of Dr. Longbow's office, willing to look at anything else but the abnormally gorgeous doctor with piercing blue eyes that felt like they could look into her soul. When Ayla first met him, she didn't believe that he was a doctor because he was too beautiful to be anything but a model or something flashy like that. It wasn't until he started talking did she change her mind and was convinced that he must be some kind of illusion because even the sound of his voice was angelic.

"Ayla, this is serious. If you're not committed to getting well then I'll have no choice but to expel you from my program. I can't tell you what to do, I can only give you the necessary tools to help you." he said, looking at Ayla. "I've gone over your record; kicked out of four institutions, three hospitalizations, the third of which was from pneumonia due to your immune system being so weak. I'm serious, this is your last chance. The next time you get sick it just might kill you."

Ayla then finally turned to look at him. "That's it? Follow your program or die? Aren't you supposed to be reassuring me and telling me to keep trying?"

"No. It's clear to me that you believe that you have this disease under control but in truth it's the opposite. You're letting yourself waste away and you don't care. You expect me to tell you what you want to hear? You want me to reassure you? What good will those words do if you just don't give a damn about yourself?"

There was a minute of silence before Ayla got up and stormed out.

xxxxx

(Present)

A familiar grey figure approached Ayla while she sat in one of the tents, wrapping an ulcerated leg that was improving in clean dressing. Arlen, who protected Ayla, stepped in front of the grey stranger, blocking his path.

"I have come to speak to your Lady Healer." the stranger began, his voice wizened and sound.

"And what do you wish to speak to our Lady about?" Arlen demanded.

"It's all right, Arlen, let him through." Ayla said as she finished wrapping the leg and picked up the bowl of dirty water and bandages. She turned around and her lips pursed at the sight of the grey stranger. "If you're sick then you've come to the right place, if not you can fuck off."

The grey wizard chuckled in amusement, always finding the healer to be interesting and sharp tongued. "My greetings to you, Lady Healer."

"Gandalf," Ayla said in acknowledgement before her pursed lips changed into a smile. "It's been awhile, what brings you to these neck of the woods?" she asked as she walked past him, carrying the bowl of dirty water and rags. Gandalf walked alongside her.

"I was merely passing through, having heard stories of a healer tending to the sick with elves in her employ. It was such a curious tale that I had to see for myself." Gandalf said.

Ayla dropped the dirty rags into a bucket and dumped the dirty water into a dugout hole meant for the waste. "Well? Curiosity satisfied?" she asked, setting the bowl into another bucket to be washed later before rinsing her hands with clean water and drying them on her apron.

"Yes, I would say so." Gandalf said, "I am most pleased to see you are doing well since our last meeting."

Ayla smiled at him. She was among the few women in his long life to ever speak clearly of their opinions, regardless of who was on the receiving end. Gandalf mused upon his first encounter with the healer more than a hundred years ago, happening upon her south of Gondor, in a village that had been ransacked by rogues. She was the only one tending to the wounded, which mostly consisted of women and children and a handful of men. The rest of the villagers were dead.

He found her interesting because she took no payment in the form of coins, just food and supplies, enough for her to carry on her back. Her techniques for healing were of skills he had never seen before. She washed the wounds clean before dressing them, giving specific instructions to each individual so that their injuries would heal properly. He had learned quite a lot from just observing quietly. Gandalf would then cross paths with Ayla several more times throughout the decades, and each time his intrigue grew for she never aged.

It was as if she was immune to Time itself.

Gandalf suspected that Ayla was one of the Ancients, returned to Middle Earth to heal those who are in great need. But such a musing was for another time.

xxxxx

(Past)

Ayla laid in the hospital bed, a feeding tube going through her nose and down into her stomach. The bag of the liquid nutrients had been changed for the third time that day. After walking out of the rehab program, Ayla had returned home only to collapse two days later in the shower where her siblings' nanny had found her and called for an ambulance. Ayla was put on suicide watch and was held for the standard 72 hour psychiatric evaluation.

But she didn't care.

No one but the doctors and nurses came to see her. Her own mother didn't bother to show up, her step-father and the two spawn half-siblings didn't bother either. Her father called, worried about her health, saying he would get on the next plane to see her but Ayla told him not to bother. In truth, she didn't want him to see her like this. She didn't want the one parent she actually cared about to feel guilty or responsible for her condition. Ayla was very aware of what she was doing to herself, and she was very aware that she almost died. Out of boredom she had read her own medical charts and saw that her initial weight when she was admitted was at 103lbs. A dangerous low for someone her height and age, knowing that she should be at most 30-40 pounds heavier to be healthy.

Being in the hospital was boring, and walking around wasn't much of an option unless she wanted to experience severe vertigo and pass out in the hallway. She was resigned to staying in bed, bored out of her mind, and pretending to not notice the nurses coming in. After day five in the hospital Dr. Longbow came to visit, carrying a parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied off with twine.

How embarrassing. The fifth person she wanted to see the least had come to visit her unannounced.

"Well, this is definitely an I-told-you-so scenario but then that would be bragging." he said in a soothing, hypnotic voice.

Ayla rolled her eyes. "You come here to gloat? That's not very professional of you, Doctor."

He handed her the parcel, placing it on her lap. "I figure you might be bored in this place." he said as he pulled up a chair by her bed. Ayla looked down at the parcel before opening it, untying the twine and pulling back the brown paper to reveal a sketch book with a box of pencils. "Your roommate back at the house mentioned you liked to draw."

"Thanks," Ayla said, not looking up at him. As thoughtful as the gift was, Ayla was too distracted with how thin and boney her hands were.

"You have the choice of coming back and starting over with the program. I want you to get better, Ayla." he said.

"Did the nurses tell you that you're my first visitor since I was admitted?"

"No, they didn't. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Did you speak to my mom?"

"Sort of, your mother actually called me, complaining how I charged too much for doing nothing."

Ayla snorted, finding it typical of her mother to complain and run her mouth. "Sounds just like her."

"Maybe now is a good time to tell me how you became like this." Dr. Longbow said as he pulled up a chair next to her bed and sat down, facing her with his hands folded in his lap.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"No, because I don't know what started this process."

Ayla leaned back against her pillows, still not looking at her doctor. In fact, she couldn't. She knew why she started down this road of self-destruction, and the root cause was very close to home. She had a list of things and people to blame, but those were all excuses. In truth… "In truth, I think I just stopped caring."

"Stopped caring about what?"

She shrugged her bony shoulders. "It had started off as a simple diet plan. Mom kept talking about how she wanted to do a family portrait and told me and Charlotte to lose a little weight because she had already bought our dresses for the planned portrait; and she purposely bought them a size smaller than our normal size. So I cut my portions in half, I cut out snacks and desserts and sugary drinks, I even started doing some cardio. And Charlotte did nothing. I lost the needed weight to fit into my dress, Charlotte didn't and mom gave my dress to her and…" her voice began to break as she remembered. "I realized then, that my own mother did it on purpose." She blinked away the tears. "I did what my mom asked, because I wanted to be included and my efforts went ignored."

Ayla finally broke down in tears, the root of her illness revealed. Dr. Longbow's heart went out to her as he moved to sit on the bed next to her and pulled her into his chest to comfort her. His hands feeling how frail and sick she really was. And it all stemmed from being rejected by her mother. It was clear that being excluded from the family portrait was the final straw and it triggered a need in Ayla to take back her control. With the mindset that she wasn't good enough to be a part of her mother's new family was when the eating disorder took an iron hold.

"Ayla, come back to the house. I promise you that if you embrace the program, then you will get better. Not only physically, but mentally and emotionally. What do you say? Will you come back?"

xxxxx

(Present)

"You need to eat, Meckel." Ayla said, holding the spoon of soup to the man's lips. Meckel had come to Ayla's camp with his wife and elderly mother. All of them had been very sick, and his wife had also been very pregnant, but had unfortunately died three days later. Ayla had to do an emergency cesarean on the deceased wife, who had died while Ayla had been trying to treat her with medicine. Kwenthrith had assisted her to the best of her capability, nearly getting sick when Ayla had cut through the skin, fat, and muscle to get to the uterus and cut it open to pull out the baby girl inside who was thankfully still alive.

The next day Meckel's mother passed. Ayla understood the shock of losing his family, but she couldn't give up and allow Meckel to waste away from grief, not when he still had his daughter to raise. A daughter who survived the first twenty-four hours after Ayla's crude emergency surgery. Setting the spoon back in the bowl Ayla felt that it was time for some real talk with her patient. She put the bowl down and reached out to his face, turning it to look at her.

"Now you listen to me: You still have a lot to live for. You haven't lost everything; you still have your baby. Your daughter. Don't abandon her because you're not man enough to keep living." Ayla said, "Don't let your wife and mother's death go in vain and blame yourself or whoever for it because it's a waste of your time and energy." He finally looked at her, his dark eyes focusing on her. "Your daughter is alive and she needs you, but you're no good to her if you don't eat and get better."

After a long moment of silence Meckel finally nodded his head. Ayla reached down for the soup and handed him the bowl, watching him take a few bites and swallowing the soup before she went to check on the last few patients she had left in the camp. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Thranduil, sitting on the back of his great elk, looking so fairy tale regal and flanked by his elven guards. Not to mention it gave her an idea that she should suggest to him in private of fucking in the saddle. Focus. Push all dirty thoughts down as much as possible.

She approached him, the great elk lowering his massive head for Ayla to stroke its soft muzzle, recognizing her scent. Ayla petted the beautiful beast as she looked up at Thranduil and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm guessing you received my message." she said.

"Yes, and as you have stated in your message I have come for you personally." he replied dryly.

"What? I never said…ugh, Kwen." Ayla sighed, having no energy to argue as she plotted on how to get back at the sneaky elf maiden. "I suppose you want to leave now?"

"Obviously." Thranduil said slowly, not needing to put into words that he had grown impatient with her. Ayla just shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"My Lord. My Lady." Kwenthrith said, approaching them both. "Allow me to finish the work that has been done here. There are only a handful left and all of them are almost well enough to leave."

"I will allow it." Thranduil said.

Ayla turned to Kwenthrith, ready to protest but Kwenthrith spoke first. "It will be fine. You have done enough. Please, it is now your turn to rest."

With a heavy sigh Ayla nodded her head. "All right, I guess I can hand over the reins to you." With a quick goodbye and last minute instructions Ayla left with the Elvenking and his entourage of guards, riding with Thranduil on the back of his great elk.

With her back pressed against Thranduil's armored chest and her head resting under his chin, Ayla drifted off to sleep. She was more tired than she had thought and now that she wasn't keeping busy it all caught up to her in minutes. Thranduil didn't disturb her, letting her rest, knowing she needed it. The reports he received from Kwenthrith and Arlen about the progress with the sick humans all reported of Ayla working tirelessly at all hours. Two months of little rest and constant working would exhaust anyone, even him. He kissed the top of her head, grateful that she remained hale after being around so many ill people.

xxxxx

From where Thranduil lounged upon the chase, one knee bent while he reclined against the throw pillows, he watched Ayla as she slept soundly in their bed. He could see the back of Legolas' golden head peeking out from the blankets, the boy obviously having slipped in during the night to sleep beside his beloved naneth.

It had been a nice surprise when Thranduil awoke, finding his son snuggled up against Ayla beneath the blankets (though his son quite possible had little choice in which side to sleep on considering Thranduil had been pressed tightly against Ayla). Seeing the two of them sleeping so peacefully together like that, it warmed his heart and that warmth spread to the rest of him, filling him with contentment and peace. When he learned that Ayla had found her way to Rivendell a year ago the news had come at the most opportune time as he had been preparing to travel there in the coming month for Tarnin Austa. It was only his last minute change of plans to bring Legolas along that felt as if he had sealed the promise of bringing Ayla home.

The Woodland Realm of Greenwood was her home, which brokered no argument (because he wouldn't hear it). It took her no more than that night to give him her reply the next morning, agreeing that she would return to Greenwood with him and Legolas and had laid down a few conditions. The first of which was that she was not under his employ as Legolas' appointed caregiver. The second was to allow her to continue her practice as doctor, which meant she was free to come and go when her skills were needed. The third condition was that they start over in their relationship, wanting to make a fresh start between them. Her conditions were fair, to say the least, though he struggled with the second.

Now, a year later, he and Ayla have established a good friendship and she had become his confidant in many matters. They were also lovers, having continued that part of their relationship almost immediately as the heat between them had never cooled down. Only growing hotter. She consumed his heart and mind and he knew this feeling without question, he just wondered if she felt the same. He knew she loved Legolas, neither of them correcting the boy about calling her naneth, and had the feeling she actually liked being addressed as such.

Ayla stirred from her sleep, stretching under the blankets before her eyes blinked open. Thranduil watched how a smile appeared on her face as she registered that Legolas was sleeping in bed with her, kissing his head before carefully sitting up. Her hair stuck out at odd angles and her eyes were still droopy with sleep. The light chemise she wore to bed and slipped off one shoulder of which she neglected to correct, modesty clearly the furthest from her mind after waking up.

She woke up beautifully.

Just as carefully as when she sat up she slipped out of bed without disturbing the little prince, and when she stood Thranduil felt immediate heat ignite low in his belly at the sight of her. What he had mistook as a chemise had been one of his silk shirts that reached down to her upper thighs, just barely covering the curve of her derriere. He cleared his throat, announcing his presence as her head snapped up towards his direction.

"Oh, good morning." she whispered, still mindful of Legolas asleep in her bed as she walked up to him.

"Indeed it is." he replied, watching her like a predator as he remained where he was. When she was right next to him his hands were immediately stroking up her bare legs. Bending over, Ayla placed a quick kiss to his lips before walking away from his touch to freshen up. His eyes following her.

It had been less than a month since Thranduil retrieved Ayla back from the camp of sick humans, and every night since he had her sleeping in his bed. In his embrace. And the Elvenking was determined to keep it that way hence forth.

xxxxx

Ayla stifled another yawn, unable to pinpoint the source of why she was feeling so tired lately. She wasn't coming down with anything aside from her occasional seasonal allergy sneezes but that time of the year had already passed. She had already taken an unexpected nap and figured she would be fine for the rest of the day but instead she was still drowsy and had low energy. She figured it would probably be a good idea to have Kwenthrith examine her, maybe she was coming down with something after all. Of course, her being as stubborn as she was, Ayla put it off indefinitely until she noticed her breasts, and especially her nipples were feeling extremely tender. They haven't felt that way since she had been pregnant back when she was still married to that backstabbing bastard.

Oh fuck.