Comments to Reviewers:
Again, thank you all for all the encouraging reviews, you are the best!
Miz Greenleaf: I'm afraid Legolas is not playing with Aragorn, but don't worry, in the end it will be okay, this is going to be a good ending, a real Tolkien Ending, like it was supposed to be. If I review I will be honest, that's a promise. I have an R rating up because of the detailed descriptions of Legolas' wounds; I didn't want to take any chances.
Deana: yes, amnesia, though I have to admit, I never thought it would be that hard to write.
Aladar Austere: Don't be embarrassed! It's not an easy title; I would forget one like this as well. I'm glad you found it again!
Joee1: You knew it was coming? Hmm, I have to be sneakier then. And yes, definitely Karma, I just hope I don't find myself at the receiving end soon.
MelanyeBaggins: He's not remembering anything at all….Sorry! I'm not sure how the relation will be between him and Aragorn, depends on how the King is helping Legolas with his memory loss. I love writing angst!
Star-Stallion: lmao, thank you for the drama music, it was very suiting with the chapter ;)
Frances: Hi girlfriend, I'm so glad you found your way to my story. As always you're a big support to me!
Elanor8: Oh oh, I see that I need the Valar if I take too long. Let's hope they're as fond of me as they are of Legolas.
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Chapter 10
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He was confused, thoroughly, why could he not remember? It was all blank, bright and blinding. Trying to remember was painful, hot flaming headache was his only reward. Which left him lying in a bed, in a room he did not know, with a man who did not seem familiar.
"Who is Legolas? Who are you?"
He tried to sit up more, the clumsy attempt failing when his back and chest both protested with a stabbing pain. He could not help but flinch when the stranger's hands helped him.
The man seemed worried, and there was a deep pain and sadness in the grey eyes.
"You are Legolas…….What do you remember?"
The voice of the stranger had a rough edge, speaking in a low comforting manner.
Legolas….what a strange name and it was his? Where did it come from, what did it mean? He frowned, once more trying to remember, ignoring the pain.
Nothing, there was only a black void.
"I………I cannot…….."
He noted the desperation in his own voice, the way he hesitated. He was afraid, afraid of not knowing, afraid of discovering. Why was his memory taken from him? What did he do to deserve such a horrible injury?
"It is well Legolas, the blow to your head was severe, you will remember in time."
Would he? He wanted to believe the stranger more then anything though there was doubt.
"Is my name truly Legolas? Such a strange name…….Leeeegoooolasss….."
He stretched the name, his name on purpose, as if tasting it. A sudden thought came to him as he listened to it carefully.
"Why am I named after the legs of a lass?"
He did not understand why the stranger looked at him dumbfounded before resolving into laughter. Was his question that amusing? Truthfully he felt offended, which must have shown on his face, for the man stifled his laughing as best as he could.
"Forgive me, my friend. I did not mean to offend you."
The stranger cleared his throat before continuing, giving him an apologetic look.
"Legolas is an Elven name, it means Greenleaf. You are an Elf from Mirkwood, son of Thranduill, the King of Mirkwood and you are one of the finest archers."
That was a little too much for him to consume all at once. He was Elf, Prince and Archer? It did explain his name; it did little though to lessen his confusion.
"Oh…."
He frowned at his own answer, not one that could be called intelligent. He simply did not know what to say or do.
"I am Elf…….What does this mean?"
There was so much he wanted to ask, he hardly knew where to begin. He wanted to know more about himself, his race, this stranger sitting on his bed…….the world outside this room….There was little he knew.
"You are one of the Fair Folk of Middle-Earth. Elves do not age, nor die of sickness. You are now two thousand, nine hundred and thirty-eight years old, though I can be mistaken by a few years. You are considered a fairly young Elf to your race."
He stared at the man, his eyes large as he shook his head. How could he be that old? It was unheard of, wasn't it? Maybe it had been a jest, and he had heard it wrong. Or perhaps he needed to know more before he would condemn this stranger to be a fool.
"Could you tell me all please?"
The man nodded, seeming to be pleased about that question. And so he started to tell all he knew, no details were left out, not an event forgotten. Even though half of it made no sense at all to the blond Elf, he listened quietly.
Hours later he lay staring at the ceiling exhausted, puzzled over all he had heard, not brining him any closer to remembering. That scared him. What if he would never regain his memory back?