A/N- Another plot chapter, pretty short too. Sorry! Life is getting hectic now so I apologize in advance for the delays that are sure to come. But please review! Often they inspire me to say "screw chemistry" and write a chapter. And after this, we should be getting back into the swing of things for a chapter or two, but then....well, you'll see.
The grass felt cool beneath Elora's bare feet as she entered the glade. Her shimmering silver dress flowed behind her as she walked, almost as if it possessed the ability to move on it's own. It was winter and she knew she should be cold, yet she wasn't. She felt light, ethereal, almost unnatural.
"That is because this is not real."
The speaker did not startle Elora; on the contrary, she had almost been expecting it. Where once had been trees now stood the Lady Galadriel, ruler of Lothlorien and Chief Healer.
Elora bowed. "I know, My Lady. This is just a dream."
Galadriel nodded. "It was the only way I could reach you; letter would have taken too long. Elora, you must come back to Lothlorien."
The younger elf shook her head. "I can not. I have left that place."
"But it has not left you. I can see it in your heart, you are unfulfilled. Only by returning to us, only by finishing what you have started, can you ever be complete. Healing is a part of you, Elora. What will you do if you are not a healer?"
Elora shrugged. "I don't know..."
"You do not know because there is nothing else you can do. This is your destiny; why do you turn away from it in fear?"
"My Lady, you know why. You were there. I killed..."
"You killed no one. The Orcs killed him, and many others that day. Do not give yourself so much credit," Galadriel scolded. She paused, as if torn by what to say next. When she did speak again, her voice sounded tired. "Elora, you were one of our best novices. We will soon need you. A great war is coming, one which will tear Middle Earth apart. Countless souls will be lost; elves, men, dwarves, hobbits- all will shed their blood in the coming battles. And who will save these warriors, when they are brought from the battlefield, barely clinging to life? You think you killed someone. Think now how many more will die if you refuse to help us."
"It is no longer that simple," protested Elora. "If I leave now..."
"Legolas is not returning to Mirkwood."
Elora looked at her in shock, hands flying up to her neck in fear. "What do you mean, not returning? Has something happened to him?" Galadriel did not move. "My Lady," Elora begged. "Tell me, please. Has something happened to Legolas?"
"He is alive, do not fear. And you will meet again, soon. But not in Mirkwood, not for a long time will you be together here in the forest of your births. Legolas has accepted his fate in this war. What will you do, Elora?" And with that, Galadriel vanished.
Elora opened her eyes and found herself staring at her floor. She rolled over onto her back and sat up. It had been a dream, but also had been real.
"What will you do, Elora?" Galadriel's question still floated in the air.
Elora hated the thought of returning to Lothlorien, to the school and the art that she both loved and feared. She wanted nothing more than to stay here, in Mirkwood, awaiting Legolas' return. But that was impossible. In the end, Elora knew there really was no choice to make, because she could only do one thing.
When the dawn blossomed over Mirkwood, Elora was already five miles away, riding hard for Lothlorien.
The grass felt cool beneath Elora's bare feet as she entered the glade. Her shimmering silver dress flowed behind her as she walked, almost as if it possessed the ability to move on it's own. It was winter and she knew she should be cold, yet she wasn't. She felt light, ethereal, almost unnatural.
"That is because this is not real."
The speaker did not startle Elora; on the contrary, she had almost been expecting it. Where once had been trees now stood the Lady Galadriel, ruler of Lothlorien and Chief Healer.
Elora bowed. "I know, My Lady. This is just a dream."
Galadriel nodded. "It was the only way I could reach you; letter would have taken too long. Elora, you must come back to Lothlorien."
The younger elf shook her head. "I can not. I have left that place."
"But it has not left you. I can see it in your heart, you are unfulfilled. Only by returning to us, only by finishing what you have started, can you ever be complete. Healing is a part of you, Elora. What will you do if you are not a healer?"
Elora shrugged. "I don't know..."
"You do not know because there is nothing else you can do. This is your destiny; why do you turn away from it in fear?"
"My Lady, you know why. You were there. I killed..."
"You killed no one. The Orcs killed him, and many others that day. Do not give yourself so much credit," Galadriel scolded. She paused, as if torn by what to say next. When she did speak again, her voice sounded tired. "Elora, you were one of our best novices. We will soon need you. A great war is coming, one which will tear Middle Earth apart. Countless souls will be lost; elves, men, dwarves, hobbits- all will shed their blood in the coming battles. And who will save these warriors, when they are brought from the battlefield, barely clinging to life? You think you killed someone. Think now how many more will die if you refuse to help us."
"It is no longer that simple," protested Elora. "If I leave now..."
"Legolas is not returning to Mirkwood."
Elora looked at her in shock, hands flying up to her neck in fear. "What do you mean, not returning? Has something happened to him?" Galadriel did not move. "My Lady," Elora begged. "Tell me, please. Has something happened to Legolas?"
"He is alive, do not fear. And you will meet again, soon. But not in Mirkwood, not for a long time will you be together here in the forest of your births. Legolas has accepted his fate in this war. What will you do, Elora?" And with that, Galadriel vanished.
Elora opened her eyes and found herself staring at her floor. She rolled over onto her back and sat up. It had been a dream, but also had been real.
"What will you do, Elora?" Galadriel's question still floated in the air.
Elora hated the thought of returning to Lothlorien, to the school and the art that she both loved and feared. She wanted nothing more than to stay here, in Mirkwood, awaiting Legolas' return. But that was impossible. In the end, Elora knew there really was no choice to make, because she could only do one thing.
When the dawn blossomed over Mirkwood, Elora was already five miles away, riding hard for Lothlorien.