A/N: Nothing about Lord of the Rings or Tolkien's characters are mine. Original characters are, though. I am not a medical expert, so bear with me. Thank you to all who have reviewed my story thus far. I appreciate people who take the time to give thoughtful comments. Any constructive criticism is welcomed.



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Time and Space

Chapter 3





I sat for a long time, just staring at nothing. The words on the pages before me blurred together. I couldn't concentrate or focus on anything this morning. Yesterday afternoon's meeting with John Doe filled my thoughts. Images kept replaying in my mind of him writhing and doing anything he could to escape the security guards' hold on him. His screams echoed through. His eyes filled with the terror of the unknown.

But I also thought on my first reaction at seeing him. He was beautiful, even in the horrible hospital gown and dishevled hair. There was a certain air about him, a pride, that shone through his awful exterior. I was determined to bring that shine to the forefront.

First though, I had to discover who he was.

No, first I had to deal with the three patients scheduled for this morning, then discover who he was.

It was going to be a long morning.



"And I just felt like screaming! I wanted to punch that guy right in the nose." The woman seated before me began shaking. I could sense her hatred of the man who had cut her off driving, which was rather hilarious given that she was seeing me for her road rage.

"So what did you do instead?" I inquired.

"I tailgated him." She seemed rather pleased with herself.

"Ah. Perhaps in the future, you could work on alternatives. For example, you could play calming music while driving." I looked at my watch. "We'll continue this next week."

A few minutes later, I was writing some final notes in my case log. Putting down my pen, I faced the window. The city was still grey and dirty, but some sun was showing through the murk. The scraggly bushes appeared to reach towards that sun. I pushed my chair right up to the window and felt the pale beam across my face. Clsosing my eyes, I let it envelope me. My thoughts were calmed and peaceful. A light smile spread across my face.

Until the image of ugliness flashed through my mind.

Startled, I nearly jumped out of my seat. "What the hell was that?" I whispered to no one. The image had left my heart pounding and short of breath.

I quickly rose, feeling a need to walk some. The next thing I knew, I was down at the common room once more. And he was still there. Still tied to the bed.

I pulled his chart out from the desk drawer. The nurse there said nothing, not that she would have. She was a little short with people and was not one you wanted to cross. I scanned the page and found that more blood had been taken from him. I could see the hideous bandage across that luminescent skin of his and sighed in frustration. A second scan revealed that he was to be shipped to the mental hospital twenty miles outside of town.

This angered me. I didn't want him to leave. Truth be told, I didn't want to leave him. He was full of riddles that I needed answered. Who he was? Where he came from? How he obtained those wonderful artifacts and clothing? They couldn't take him from me yet.

Putting the chart away, I went over to his bed. His eyes were open, but unmoving. I could see his chest moving up and down, but ever so slightly. He appeared dead. No, he appeared lost and in pain. Standing next to his head, I smiled down on him, feeling a little of his sadness radiate towards me.

His eyes fluttered then focused on me.

"Good afternoon."

"Where am I?"

Fabulous! You understand now. "You're in St. Vic's hospital. Do you remember how you got here?"

He stared blankly into space, thinking back. "I do not."

"Well, that's to be expected...somewhat."

He moved to sit up, but found the restrains inhibited him. He continued to tug on them. It was then that he noticed his position and attire. "What is going on? Where am I? Who are you?" Slight panic crept into his voice.

I wanted to rest my hand on his shoulder to help calm him. "You're in hospital. The restraints were put on to keep you from hurting yourself. As for me," I sat back in the chair, "I'm Dr. Kaitlin Myers, but we've already been introduced."

He looked over at me, narrowing his brow as though trying to remember me. His gaze was hypnotic, as though he was searching down into me, to my soul. "Yes," he finally said, "I remember you now." He paused. "You tried to assist me."

"Tried, but unsuccessful. Are you hungry?"

"Please release me. I shall do no harm to anyone."

I believed him. With every fibre of my being, I believed him and knew his word to be true. Moments later, he lightly rubbed his wrists, free of bondage. Sitting up in the bed, he frowned at his gown. "Is this what you force your patients to wear?"

I smiled. "Sometimes. I'll see if I can't get you some real clothes."

He scanned the room, his eyes narrowing on a few patients. "I am in some sort of healer's room?"

I smirked. "That's one way to put it."

He continued his survey, finally resting his eyes on the window. Without hesitation, he rose and strode quickly and silently to it. I watched him closely and carefully. The light band of sun creeped through the window. It transformed him somehow. He shut his eyes and breathed deeply, allowing the light to invade his inner being. That simple act transfixed me. I could only gape at him.

He then turned his head towards me. "This place is unclean." He opened his eyes. "It is killing you."

"It's called pollution," I said. "And you're probably right, but there's not much I can do about it." I took a cautious step closer to him. "Is anything else coming back to you?"

He raised his hand to the cage, fingering it lightly. "Many things." He leaned forward. "Where are my companions?"

My brow creased. "Companions?"

"Yes, the people who were with me. I would like to see them." He was now straight, a sort of regalness overtaking him.

"There was no one with you. The police found you alone, disoriented."

He blinked several times as though unable to comprehend what had happened to him. "I do not understand. We were together upon meeting Lausona and then..." He struggled to remember. "...then..." His face contorted as though in pain. Clenched fists rested on his forehead.

He was reliving the event as he remembered it before his arrival here.

"You are here, safe. No one can harm you." I took another cautious step forward.

He quickly spun. "What have you done with them? I must see them. Ensure that they are safe."

"Perhaps if you could tell me what they looked like." Playing along seemed the right thing for the moment.

"A man and a dwarf. They would be distinct together as Men and Dwarves do not get along. You would recognise them."

A man and a dwarf. Right. "What are their names?"

"Aragorn, son of Arathorn and Gimli, son of Gloin."

My eyebrow shot straight up. That was a very interesting way of giving a name. "Do they have last names? That may help the search somewhat."

His puzzled expression told me that he had no clue as to what I was talking about. He shook his head. "They were with me, fighting alongside me, when..." He stopped.

"When what?" I asked gently.

He ignored me to resume his stare out the window. "Aragorn, where are you?" he whispered.

There seemed little for me to do now, except one thing. "Do you know your name?"

He looked at me as someone looks at an idiot. "Of course. I am Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood."

Well, that threw me for a big loop.



At home, his name kept replaying over and over in my mind. It sounded incredibly familiar, but I couldn't remember where I'd heard it. Finally, I began a search on the Internet and made a surprising discovery: it was a name of a character from The Lord of the Rings. I laughed out loud. Things finally made sense.

At the hospital the next day, I informed Mike of my discovery.

"Tolkien's books?" he said. He grinned and shook his head. "Thought I'd seen it all."

"Yeah, I know. Obviously, this guy's had some trauma that he's repressed. Becoming this Legolas character, he no longer has to deal with what happened to him." It made perfect psychological sense. When people have been through something that their mind or emotions cannot cope with, they will often create a new persona to deal with the trauma. Abuse victims would often do this. They could then distance themselves from the event, even forgetting it entirely, by claiming that someone else had experienced it. The new person had no knowledge of it. It can sometimes work temporarily, but eventually a trigger occurs and the person is then confronted with the event once again, without any workable coping strategies.

"So what do you think you'll do?" Mike asked, biting into his sandwich.

"First thing is to keep him from being transferred."

He wiped his mouth. "That shouldn't be a problem. I'll sign the form to keep him here another twenty days."

"This guy's probably going to need more than that."

He shrugged. "We'll take it one step at a time."



One step at a time. That's what this man was going to have to do. I wondered if he had the patience for it as I wandered into the common room after lunch. Once again, he was stationed at the window. The lightning of the thunderstorm played across his features, highlighting his points. He was a once beautiful and devilish.

But the one thing that troubled me was his 'glow' for lack of a better word. He seemed dimmer, less radiant somehow. His eyes were losing their shimmer.

"Good afternoon," I said cheerfully. "How are you doing?" I noticed that both hands were once again gripping the cage.

He turned and I could feel a piece of me break. He had what I call the 'puppy-dog stare'. His sad face quietly pleaded with me to do something, to make his sadness disappear. And his eyes were glazing over.

As a psychiatrist, we are trained to avoid emotional attachments to our patients. It biases our thinking and our treatment. Standing there, with this utterly desparate man before me, all training was thrown aside. He didn't need emotional help, he needed physical help. He needed to get out of that hospital. It was killing him, persona or not.

"Please," he whispered, "please let me go. I must leave here. I must find my friends." His hands tightened around the wires.

Oh, how I wanted to let him go, but I knew that would be dangerous. Not just lose your job type dangerous, but fatally dangerous. This world was completely foreign and unsafe for him. Perhaps, though...

"Come with me." My hand was held out for him. He was wary, definitely, but I could sense that he trusted me. Slowly, he clasped his hand in mine. We left the common room and followed the hallway to the elevator. His experiences in the hospital were limited to that room. His eyes were wide, marvelling at all the sights and sounds around him. He was startled when the elevator dinged. We entered. His tension rose when the door closed. "It's okay. We're safe in here." He remained skeptical, but said nothing.

Moments later, we exited on the main floor. I let go of his hand. "Just pretend that you're my patient and I'm taking you somewhere."

"But I am not ill," he replied.

"We're just pretending. You know, make believe."

"Only children pretend."

I rolled my eyes. "Just go with me on this one, okay?"

We quickly walked through the halls of the hospital, stopping once or twice as he caught some strange new device, like a wheelchair, and wanted to further investigate. We finally made it to the door and I opened it. Looking up at him, I grinned.

His entire face shone once more. He stared up into the sky, watching the lightning, and began moving out. The rain was falling hard and heavy, but he did not seem to care. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it all the more. His cautious steps quickly became bounds as he encircled the courtyard. He halted at the tree, touched the bark and waited. He appeared to whisper something, at the tree I think, and then disappeared.

Seconds later, an upper branch shook. Peering up through the downpour, I spotted him standing tall and proud on that limb. He may only pretend to be this Legolas character, but it was certainly very real. He'd done his research to be sure.

When I began to shiver with the rain, I called out. "We better get in now."

No response.

"Hey, come on. You don't want to catch a cold."

Nothing.

I sighed. He was forcing me to go to that tree. I didn't really want to get soaked, but this had been my idea in the first place. Grudgingly, I grumbled over. "You want to come down now?" I looked up into the leaves.

"No. I would like to stay here longer." He was examining some of the leaves and buds. "This tree is lonely."

Great, lonely trees. "I just don't want you to hurt yourself or get sick."

Reluctantly, he came down. "I do not get sick. And I heal quickly." He looked at me and his expression saddened. "You have been away too long," he finally said.

I stared back at him. His messy hair was now plastered to his head with a few strands on his face. The rain dripped from his nose and chin, but he did not seem to mind. I could only imagine how horrible I appeared. "Too long from where?"

He raised his arms. "From this." He opened his mouth to the rain. "Allow yourself the freedom."

"C'mon. Let's get back in." I moved to leave, but he grabbed my arm. I was about to tell him to let go, when I stopped.

"Can't you feel it? It is in you, as it is in me." He then pulled me along him as he once again circled the courtyard. "Listen. Feel. It is all around you." We stopped and he cupped my face in his hands. "Listen to you."

Everything about me stopped. I closed my eyes. I heard the rain on the sidewalk, on the windows, on the tree, on the leaves, on me. My heartbeat became louder. I could hear my blood flow through my veins. I could feel his hands, his warm hands, give me light.

Carefully, gently, he released me and the light faded.

"Thank-you," he whispered in my ear. He stepped back. "Do you believe my words?"

Now there's a loaded question if ever there was one.





To be continued...