Even If You Were The Last Person On Earth
By Colorain
Disclaimer: Finally, we get to the part that counts. Legolas, Mirkwood, Thranduil—anything Tolkien no belongy to me. Susan still belongs to me. And I managed to write a two-parted chapter—there is no rhyme or reason to this, people. And I am going away, so if anyone besides Minka actually reads this, no more until a week!
Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood, son of Thranduil (oh, I'm sure every Legolas fic doesn't start out that way!) stepped soundlessly through the forest. His fingers curled loosely around his bow, and each of his arms were tense enough to drawn an arrow from his back and notch it to fire in the blink of an eye. He was on the lookout. For exactly what, though, he could not tell.
Evil was stirring. An unnatural storm was brewing—dark clouds moved quickly against the wind and the air had a sickly muggy feel that nonetheless chilled one to the bone.
Legolas' ears buzzed a second before the first bolt of lightning hit. He knew without turning around that it had cracked behind him, to his left. Though he yearned to put out the fire he knew would start, Legolas resisted the urge. Luckily, the grasses of the forest were not too dried with the heat of summer. Whatever burned, would burn quickly, and itself out.
Faint tremors shook the earth as the thunder came calling for its white-hot mate. A low throb emanated from deeper inside the woods. Legolas pulled an arrow from his quiver and notched it, making no more noise than breath itself. A strange sight greeted him as he crept nearer to the sound.
A purple-blue cloud, completely opaque, sat in the middle of a small clearing. It pulsed as if it were a heartbeat—one that Legolas was about to end.
His arrow flew straight and true. But instead of burying itself in the cloud's center, or at least passing through to the other side, it had disappeared.
"What strange magic is this?" he whispered in shock. Despite his realization that the cloud was harmful, that the cloud was the thing causing the storm, he could not help but creep closer. Like a snake with its prey, it disoriented him in order to prepare for the final strike.
The ground tilted. With a cry, the befuddled Legolas fell into the unearthly swirl of color. He vanished, as did the cloud.
A moment later, it began to rain.
~*~
No amount of aspirin was going to make this headache go away. Susan carefully lifted one aching arm and gingerly touched the back of her head. No blood (a good thing), but a lump the size of Texas (a bad thing). Merely brushing her fingertips across it caused a wave of nausea to overtake her, and Susan half-laughed, half-cried at the sensation.
She lay there for a while, musing as to how things didn't seem to hurt if you didn't move them, only to hear a strange whistling sound above her and the satisfying thwack as an object buried itself in her backpack.
Susan was almost afraid to look, but opened an eye. When she saw what was sticking out of her green backpack at a rather jaunty angle, she shut it again.
People don't shoot arrows in the woods, Susan. Or at least they aren't supposed to. This is the twenty-first century. We use guns now. You're going to open your eyes, you're going to check out your backpack, and then we are going to take one large-ass dosing of pain medication.
Susan again ventured to lift an eyelid. The arrow was still there. A sudden shadow blocked the sun—crap, how long had she been out?—and Susan looked up just in time to watch a human body plummet right onto her prone figure.
Screams would not come. Fresh pain coursed through every inch of her body, but the breath had been knocked out of her and she simply could not scream. Taking small gasps of breath that made her feel like she was hyperventilating, Susan tried her best to roll the human body off of her. He came off rather easily, seeing as he seemed to weigh a ton when he was being used as a human paperweight.
The man woke up as soon as he hit ground, and sprang to his feet. It was then Susan noticed his strange clothing. He was dressed for a Renaissance fair, in green leggings and a brown tunic. A quiver of arrows hung from a strap laid horizontally across his back, and a bow was clenched in his hand. His long blonde hair shone in the sunlight, and small braids peeked out from behind his ears.
Oh, yes, and those ears were pointy.