A/N: Hey everybody! As can be seen from the summary, this is a Lego-mance, and it might seem a little Mary-sueish, but I'll try to veer away from that as much as possible (although I don't see anything wrong with a Mary-sue when it's well-written). It's also a tenth-walker, so if ya don't like it, well, frankly I don't really give a flying fuck. Save your flames for someone who REALLY deserves it, spare me the aggravation, and don't read this. For those of you who DO like this sort of thing, read, review (constructive criticism is appreciated as much as positive comments) and enjoy! Oh, just something to keep in mind: This fic is influenced by the books as well as the movies, so please, if you haven't bothered to read the books, please don't send me reviews pointing out what you believe to be inaccuracies. Check the books before you nag.

Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings, Legolas, Saelbeth, Galdor, Silinde, or any people you recognize. They belong to J. R. R. Tolkien and his affiliates...and I guess the movie producers. Donna, however, is mine, so no touchy.

To Heal a Wounded Eleth

Chapter 1: Behind Glass

The girl looked about in wonder, taking in her new surroundings. Not long before, she had run into the woods behind her small cottage, and taken refuge in an old, hollow tree. Now, when she stepped out, the forest had changed. There were no paths, and the trees were huge, with vines cascading down. Shrubs and plants she had never seen before hid much of the forest floor from view. The tree she had just left was the only thing that remained the same.

She sat down against the tree, trying to make sense of how she had gotten here. This was not her forest. She looked south, where her cottage was. Or where her cottage would have been. As she sat, memories of the past two decades came unbidden to her minds eye, making her relive the moments as if she were in a waking dream.

She knew the forest behind her home very well, she wandered it every day after her chores were done. The cottage was built on farmland out in rural Ontario, and she was allowed to stay there for free on the condition that she worked as a farmhand. It suited her fine, the work was hard, but the family who owned the farm was very kind, and treated her like one of their own children. She had stayed with them for years, finding them after her adopted mother died, and they had become very dear to her. None more so than Jack McGuire, the man who had turned the land into a successful farming business 50 years before. When the girl had found her way there after her mother's death, Jack took her in, quickly turning into the grandfather she'd never had.

He ran the farm with his wife, Mary, his son, Shawn, and his daughter-in-law, Lisa. The family accepted the girl quickly, and she proved to be a vital asset to Jack in keeping the farm operating smoothly. The girl had a surprising amount of knowledge for someone who looked so young, and she learned things oddly quickly. She could operate all the farm machinery, as well as repair it, and she knew how to handle every animal he raised. She knew each creature's temperament, what injuries they'd had, what illnesses they were susceptible to. She even memorized their names and serial numbers, and there were a LOT to memorize.

The girl also had a passion for art and music. She could play the guitar and the piano, as well as a rather obscure instrument called an ocarina. It fit her hands perfectly, and it was made out of some sort of dark wood. She carried it with her wherever she went. She'd had it for as long as she could remember. She could also draw and paint. When she was given a tedious task like watching sheep while they grazed, she would sit and draw the hills and fields. Sometimes when the foolish creatures took an interest in what she was doing, she would draw their faces. After a while of watching them, she could easily tell every animal apart, much to the astonishment of Shawn. The man hated sheep with a passion, and he hated watching them even more. But the girl didn't complain, watching sheep meant she didn't have to haul hay bales or pile manure.

However, Jack was already quite old when she began her life on the farm, though the way he acted one would never guess he was 71. He worked in the fields with his son and the farmhands until his joints and back just couldn't take it any more. At the age of 85, the year his wife died, he left the work of running the farm to his son and the girl, and he managed finances for several years.

At the age of 91, Jack started to become very tired. He would spend most of the day in bed. The girl became worried, she knew that he wasn't long for the world. She did not know how she would handle it. She had lost so many already.

When the time finally came and Jack passed on, she was devastated. No one could console her. Watching another loved-one die re-opened past wounds that never fully healed, some she was aware of, others she would later remember. Not wanting her adopted family to see her in such a state, she ran from them, through the fields, and into the forest behind her cottage, finally stopping at the old tree. She had always liked the tree, no one else seemed to know about it, and she liked it that way. She would go there to meditate, and listen to the sounds of the forest. Now, she went to the tree to hide; to hide from the pain, and to hide from the people who would have comforted her. She could not take it any more. She had watched too many loved ones die already. She crawled into the tree, and cried. She cried until the tears just wouldn't come any more. Then she sat in a ball, letting the grief slip into her consciousness, slowly trying to harden her heart against any more pain.

She decided then and there that she would put everyone she was close to behind glass, and she would never grieve again. It is quite amazing what one can persuade oneself to believe when one is grieving.

After waking from her strange reverie, for a moment, tears threatened to fall once again from her green eyes, but she angrily staunched the flow. No more of this nonsense…she thought to herself. She stood up, brushing the moss and leaves from her black leather overcoat, and began to walk south, hoping that her cottage was still there. After she walked for a while, she heard voices. They were speaking some sort of unpleasant, halting, guttural language. She actually found it disgusting. She slowed her pace, and walked silently until she could see two large figures standing a few yards off. She slipped behind one of the large trees and listened. They seemed to switch back and forth between their language and English.

" 'Ave lat lost lur mind Gorath? The pushdug golug skin us if they find urukz here!" said one.

"Glob! Me no scared of ilid! Clog! Me skin TAK before tak skin ME!" said another. This one sounded bigger, and meaner.

"Why lat wan come here?" said the one who had spoken before. He seemed rather nervous, though his voice sounded just as grotesque as that of the other one.

"Shakh Sauron wan know strength of golug!"

"Why he no send more urukz? Golug have faugh! We mat-uuk! We bagronk-ishi!" The nervous one was now beginning to sound frantic. Then, the meaner-sounding of the two let out a terrible roar, the sound so vial the girl had to clasp her hands over her sensitive ears.

"Nubhosh! We be highat we no mat-uuk!" After listening to all of this, the girl decided that it was probably best to leave them to their arguing, but her curiosity got the best of her, and she looked around the tree first to get a better look at who she had been listening to. When she saw the creatures that stood only about 20 yards away, she knew immediately why the "pushdug golug", whatever they were, would want to skin them. They were great ugly things that stood on two legs. One of them had dark brown skin and deep scars across its face, the other had skin the shade of un-worked clay, and it had vile tumors growing on its body making it even more hideous. She could smell them from a good distance off, a vial combination of metal, dried blood, rot, and general filth. She didn't want to consider why they might reek like blood and rot.

Satisfied that these beasts, whatever they were, should probably not be messed with, she quietly started to walk in the other direction. Suddenly, however, the wind changed, blowing into her face and in the direction of the two creatures she was trying to get away from.

She heard them sniffing the air, and one of them let out another roar, causing her to yelp involuntarily and cover her ears again.

"Skai! Ilid find urukz! See!" cried the clay-colored beast.

"An me skin ilid! HOOWAH!" replied the other, yelling some sort of battle cry.

With that, the two beasts came running straight at the girl, roaring loudly. She gaped at them a moment, seeing that one of them brandished an iron scimitar, and the other had a large bow. Then she finally snapped out of it, running faster than she had ever run before.

"Where the hell am I!" she cried as she ran.

The beasts let out more war cries, growing in anger as she got farther and farther away. She ran up a fallen log that laid at a slant against a large boulder, and jumped down to the ground, yelping in pain as she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder, but still she kept running.

A small distance off, four elves on white horses rode through the forest, talking quietly. They suddenly heard the battle roars of orcs, and a moment later, a high-pitched yelp. The Elf who led the group turned his horse around to the direction the commotion was coming from, and urged his horse into a canter, muttering, "Yrch!" (Orcs)

"Legolas! Mani naa lle umien?" cried one of the other elves. (What are you doing?)

"Mani lle noa?" replied Legolas as he went in the direction of the cry (What do you think?). The other three elves went after him, hoping that he didn't go too far. Fortunately, they didn't have to. A strangely clad women tore past them at break-neck speed, with a long, black-feathered arrow protruding from her right shoulder. Legolas jumped off his horse, catching hold of her around the waist to get her to stop. She struggled in his arms, flailing about as best she could. She attempted to jab her right elbow into his ribs, but yelped in pain and went down on her knees, clutching her shoulder.

"Mani marte a'lle?" asked Legolas, kneeling down next to her (What happened to you?). The girl stared at him blankly, not seeming to understand.

"Legolas! Yrch!" cried one of the elves (Orcs). He sprang up, seeing two beastly orcs running towards them as fast as they could manage. He and one of his other companions fired arrows at the same time, striking both orcs down. He looked back to see that the girl was starting to walk away, trying to remain unnoticed.

"Tampa!" Legolas called, worried for the woman's health (Wait!). He knew that orc arrows and blades would often be poisoned. He ran over to her and stood in front of her, blocking her path. The woman was small, she barely reached his chin, and her body was very slender. She had deeply tanned skin, and waist-length, dark brown hair. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with wonder, confusion and what looked like fear. Her eyes were the most beautiful things he'd ever seen. They were a very dark green, the shade of holly-leaves in winter, and a thin brown ring encircled her pupils. She seemed to be a woman of the earth through and through. She smelled like nature, a pleasant combination of evergreen, soil, and some sort of heady floral aroma that he found rather intoxicating.

"Jesus H. Murphy…you're a…you're a…you're a…" she stammered. She had an odd accent, somewhat like that of the dwarves, though not far as thick and unpleasant to the ears, and she had a rather odd way of speaking.

"An elf?" he suggested, cocking his head to the side thoughtfully. He couldn't quite tell what she was. She was rather short to be a human, and she was far too beautiful to be a dwarf.

"Th-th-that's it…wait…that's impossible…you couldn't possibly…" She seemed to be in shock. Either that or ill. "Oh man…I don't feel so good…" she leaned against a tree and rested a hand on her forehead, then ran her fingers through her hair, exposing ears that tapered into a delicate point. She's an elf! Or at least a half-elf. She moaned and slid down to the ground, her face going pale. Legolas darted over to her, resting a hand on her un-injured shoulder.

"My lady? You are injured, I need to remove the arrow from your shoulder," he said, his voice full of concern.

"What? What do you mean? What arrow?" She looked down at her right shoulder and made an odd wheezing noise. "SWEET JESUS! When the hell'd that happen!" Legolas stared in disbelief. Even though she was obviously distressed, the pain did not seem to affect her.

"Be still, I am going to remove it. Try not to move very much, I do not want to cause any more damage."

"Okay okay okay! Just get this thing outta me!" she cried, a look of resignation on her face. He slid her jacket off her shoulder as much as he could without moving the arrow, and saw that the point had gone all the way through. Well, at least it will be easier to remove. He thought as he took hold of the arrow and broke it off close to her shoulder, making the girl flinch.

"Amin hiraetha," he said sympathetically (I'm sorry). She looked at him with the same blank expression she had worn the last time he had spoken to her in elvish. "Do you not speak quenya?" he asked.

"I don't even know what it is," she replied sheepishly. Where in the world does this odd woman hail from? I shall have to ask her after this grisly wound is taken care of… He thought as he took hold of the arrow head and prepared to pull it out. However, they were both pleasantly surprised, the shaft of the arrow slid out smoothly after the head. The girl slipped off the long leather coat she wore and looked down at her shoulder again, going pale and wide-eyed at the sight. The whole right side of the odd tunic she wore was stained dark red. She suddenly looked as if she were going to be violently ill.

"Oh my…blood…a whole lot of blood…oh my…oh my…" With that, she swooned, and fell into his lap.

The girl woke a while later, laying on some kind of mat. It was dusk. She felt something snort into her hair, and looked up to find a white horse with grey mane sniffing her curiously.

"Ah…hello there…" she said, rubbing the animal's muzzle. The horse nickered good-naturedly, seeming to enjoy the contact. "And who might you be?"

"His name is Camthalion," replied an amused voice. She bolted up, flinching from the pain in her shoulder. She looked down at her chest and she was wearing…nothing…just cloth bandages. She looked ahead of her to see four blonde men with pointed ears, sitting around a fire, looking at her curiously. She looked down at her shirtless self, then back up at them a couple of times, then turned a few shades of red, wrapping the blanket that covered her legs around herself tightly. Thankfully, her jeans where still on.

"Pleeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaasssseee tell me one of you is a very masculine-looking woman?" she asked nervously. The one who sat closest to her smiled and said, "I fear not milady. But your wound needed attention." She stared at him openly for a moment. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Long, light gold hair that went down to the middle of his back, braided at the sides of his head to keep it out of his face, lightly tanned skin, and deep, sapphire blue eyes. Then she shrugged.

"Pfft. I suppose there ain't much room for modesty when one's been impaled by a pointy projectile and is bleeding profusely." She looked around for a moment. "Ah… where am I?"

"You mean you do not know?" asked the pretty man, seeming mildly surprised.

"No, no I don't."

"You are in Imladris," he said. "Come, sit by the fire." He rose to his feet along with the other three men and motioned for her to sit by him. She did as he said, carefully rising to her feet. She kept the blanket wrapped around her tightly with one hand and walked over to them. The man bowed to her, saying, "I am Legolas, son of Thranduil." He took her free hand and kissed her knuckles. She blushed slightly, then replied, "I'm…I'm Donna."

"Donna," he said thoughtfully, seeming to test the word the same way one would a fine wine, slowly rolling it about the mouth to savor the tannin before finally swallowing it. Hearing him say it filled her with a strange warmth that she'd never experienced before. "A beautiful name." She found herself smiling, but quickly forced the feeling away. Don't even think about it. You don't even know this guy. Besides…he'll just die like everyone else… she thought sadly. The four men remained standing and Legolas introduced them one by one. "May I also introduce my companions? This is Saelbeth, Galdor, and Silinde." Each man bowed gracefully as his name was said, and she acknowledged each with a nod and a smile, then they all sat down. Saelbeth Galdor and Silinde talked amongst themselves in the same language Legolas had spoken to her earlier. It was odd for her to listen to. It sounded oddly familiar. It seemed to her that if she were to concentrate, and listen hard enough, she would be able to understand, but her thoughts were elsewhere at the moment.

"Imladris…Where in the world is that? How did I get here?" she murmured, not seeming to direct the question at anyone in particular.

"I was about to ask you the same question. Where do you hail from, milady?" asked Legolas.

"'Milady'? Wow, how aristocratic…Ah, I strongly suspect the name will mean nothing to you…but I come from Canada," she replied. Her mind was reeling as she tried to figure out how she could have possibly gotten to this seemingly ancient forest, and how she was going to get back. Not that she was at all sure she WANTED to go back.

"Ca-na-da?" asked Legolas, sounding the word out. He looked completely lost.

"Yup," she replied.

"'Yup'? What sort of word is that?" he asked with a smirk.

"Sorry. It's slang for 'yes'. I'll try and refrain from using slang while I'm in your presence. Ah…do you mind if I ask a few questions?" she asked.

"Of course, go ahead."

"Alright. First of all, what in the seven hells were those nasty-smelling things that shot me?" she asked, a hint of anger evident in her voice. "And why did they attack me? I wasn't doing anything wrong!"

"Those were orcs, and they attacked you because you are an elf. They are not very fond of us, and--"

"WHOA! Hold on just one minute," she cried, cutting him off. "What do you mean I'm an elf? No I'm not! Elves don't exist…well…obviously they do…but not in Canada they don't! Or if they did, then they don't any more!" She looked rather confused and flustered.

"But your ears are pointed," he replied.

"So I'm deformed! Everyone has imperfections!" she retorted fretfully.

"How old are you?" asked Legolas. He was finding her reaction rather amusing. Apparently so was Saelbeth, for he was watching with a grin on his face. But that fellow always seemed to be smiling about something.

"Ah…I'm not sure…" she replied, looking away.

"How can you not be sure?"

"Well, y'see, a while back, I lost my memory…then a woman named Rita found me and took me in. She said I looked about 17 at the time…that was…let me think…about 50 years ago…so that would make me…about 67," she said thoughtfully. "Sheesh, time sure flies…" Legolas stared at her in disbelief.

"And how much have you changed since you can remember?" he asked.

"Not a lot…I think I may have gotten a little taller, but…why don't I change? Shawn is 55, and his hair is turning grey…and he has wrinkles around his eyes…" she seemed to be talking to herself again. "Why don't I grow old and die like everyone else? Come to think of it, why didn't Shawn and Lisa ever mention anything about it? Surely they noticed that I wasn't aging…as if I weren't unsure enough about my past…" she gazed into the fire, deep in thought.

Legolas watched her for a time. She seemed so lost, so alone, but he didn't know what to say to comfort her. He wasn't at all sure there WAS anything he could say. He somehow felt responsible. She didn't seem to be able to believe that she was an elf. Either that or she just didn't want to. He sat in silence for a while himself, trying to decide the best thing to do. He and his companions were on their way to Rivendell to seek the council of Lord Elrond, so he could not do a thing for the poor woman until after his business in Rivendell was done. Then it hit him. Elrond would likely know how to help her, or at least have some idea of where her answers might lie.

"Milady?" asked Legolas, trying to get her attention. She didn't answer. Saelbeth crouched in front of her and waved a hand in front of her face.

"Re loralya," he said with a smirk (She's asleep). Legolas chuckled as Saelbeth snapped his fingers and the girl jumped in surprise.

"Wha? Huh? I'm awake, I'm awake! Sheesh, I'd swear I was takin' a nap just now…" she murmured, shaking her head.

"You were. But uuma dela, that happens to all of us on occasion. The flames can be rather hypnotic at times," said Saelbeth with a smile (don't worry).

"Thanks for the wake-up call…that's never happened before," she replied, a sheepish grin on her face.

"Seasamin." With that he walked back over to Silinde and Galdor (My pleasure).

"Milady?" said Legolas again, now that she was awake.

"Yeah?"

"Ah…well…do you have anywhere to go?" he asked, unsure of how to go about telling her of Rivendell. She reminded him of a wild horse. If he did not move slowly and deliberately, she would bolt, and he might not get her back. For some reason he did not want her out of his life yet. She intrigued him.

"I guess not. I don't know how I got here in the first place, so until I figure that out, I can't go back," she replied. She didn't seem terribly concerned about it. Perhaps her life in 'Canada' as she had called it, was not very pleasant. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, you see, we are headed to Rivendell, an elvish city. The Lord there is very wise, he may be able to help you. You are welcome to travel with us, if that is your desire." She furrowed her brow in thought for a moment, then replied, "Well, I can't really stay out here alone without weapons, and I don't know this forest at all…so I suppose I will go with you, as long as it isn't a problem."

"Not at all," he said with a smile. "Do you know how to ride?" She laughed good-naturedly and replied, "I spent the last 20 years on a farm. I definitely know how to ride."

The next morning, Saelbeth lent her a tunic, and they were on their way to Rivendell.

A/N: Well, that's the first chapter. Isn't it nice and long? Sorry if it's a bit wordy, I figured I'd get as much painful character information out of the way as I could in the first chapter so that I could have fun with the conflict, angst, humor, and best of all, HACK N' SLASH ACTION! Mwahahahaha! So, anyway, don't forget to read and review. Oh, BTW, as can be seen, the title REALLY sucks, so if you have any suggestions for a better one, then e-mail me: