Author's Note: For those who asked, here is a follow-up (and conclusion now that I think about it) to Shadows of the Passed. Sorry it took so long, I've been trying to figure out where to take it. Please take the time to review on your way out. Enjoy…I did. SlV

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Four weeks later, the sound of a door slamming carried through the halls of Westlands as Martin paid a call on his English teacher.

"What the HELL is going on? What. Did. You. DO TO ME!?" Marty began.

No response came from the young teacher, but his pen ceased to move across the paper he was marking.

The angry student continued: "A month ago you came waltzing in here to tell us that our teacher was AWOL and you were taking his place. Fine. Slightly weird, but fine. But from day one there was something very wrong about you. You assigned our class something totally different from the rest of your courses, you've been playing a freakin' mindreader, you started an archery club for God's sake! Oh…and not to mention your eyes, your voice, the fact that you sit on the desk, not at it… " he trailed off.

Greenwood regarded the angry young man from his perch on Mr. Stewart's former desk with an intensity in his highly disconcerting eyes, that was, for lack of a better word, creepy. He let out an audible sigh and said sadly, "I won't deny anything Martin, because nothing that you have said is false."

That remark hit Marty like a punch in the stomach, sapping all of the angry energy that he had built up. When he spoke again, he sounded almost tired.

"I see things." He said, "Things I never really understood; like something you'd see in a video game. I never thought they could be real. " He paused to catch his breath and collect his thoughts. "And then," Martin continued, "then I read that book you gave us. And I…I recognized things in the story. The pictures that I saw. People that I've known…" his voice died and he seemed to be having trouble getting the next words out. " I think I saw me in there. Well, not exactly me. You know, not me me as I am right now, but someone that I was, or…or…"

He gave up, unable to put his thoughts into words. Instead, he reached into his bag, pulled out his copy of the Lord of the Rings and dropped it onto the desk in front of his teacher.

"Look, all I want to know is three things. And if I'm right about one of them, then you don't need to answer the other two." Here, he paused to take a deep breath. One: Who am I? Two: How did you know about me? And three…you're Legolas aren't you? Like in the book. You're an elf."

Greenwood kept his head down and continued on with whatever he was marking. "Apologize to your class for me please, Martin." He said, as though he had not heard a word of what had just been said. "I have been called away on important business and must leave my post here."

Martin looked at him in shock. "But…but…but…" he spluttered.

The teacher continued, "Your new teacher will continue on with the course where I have left off. Oh…and Martin? Do your utmost to convince Perry of the virtues of silence, especially during class. I have known Elle O'Ryan for quite some time, and she does not suffer fools gladly."

Here he stopped, and looked up into the face of the hopelessly confused teenager standing before him. "And now I'm afraid that I must ask you to excuse me Martin. I have a lot of loose ends to tie up before I leave. It was a pleasure to teach you Marty." And with that he offered his hand.

 Half-heartedly, Marty reached out and took it. He mumbled a goodbye and headed out of the room. At the door, he paused and took one final look at the strange young teacher, who was now over staring out of the window. Slowly, finally, confused and frustrated, he left.

Many ages weighed upon the one who now called himself Greenwood, but he would ever count this parting among remembrances that saddened him most. He waited for the young man at the door to leave, and then spoke his final parting.

"Namárië, my friend." He said softly. "I am glad to have met you." He paused, and smiling wryly, amended himself…

"Again."

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Namárië – Elvish for Farewell