7 Years Later – Year 3017

I was running through the forest at full speed, every now and then turning my head to see behind me. I could not risk stopping to hide. I heard arrows zooming past me from all around, taking chunks out of trees that whispered wounded cries. I felt the cut on my left arm dripping blood down to my elbow, leaving a trail of red droplets on ripe, green grass beneath my feet. Trees limbs were scratching at my cheeks as I ran, and I had long since used all my arrows. Now, all I could do was run.

I heard menacing footsteps behind me. I knew the sound well by now—they belonged to the Goblins that were running rampant through Mirkwood. I was not scared anymore. Running was not an act of cowardice; it was the art of survival.

Suddenly, I felt a quick hand grab me by the shoulder and hoist me into a tree. The same hand was clamped over my mouth to stop me from screaming, but I knew that hand so well that I never even tried to scream. I turned my head to see Malian perched on a branch, bow on his back. His long, dark chestnut hair was pulled behind his head save the few strands that had come loose and were clinging to his sweat-drenched face. His eyes were sharp and dangerous, blue as the skies, and they were squinting, cat-like, at the ground below us. He removed his strong hand from my mouth and winked at me with as much ease as he could muster before quickly grabbing his bow and knocking an arrow in it. He aimed at something I did not have the time to see before sending his arrow flying expertly into the creature beneath us, which fell to the ground with a dull thud.

"Nice shot," I whispered quietly, trying hard not to let my rapid breathing cause too much clamor. Malian gave me a cheeky grin before hopping down from the tree and offering his dirt-covered hand to me, helping me down.

"We have to get you back to the halls," Malian said urgently, grabbing my hand and pulling me in the right direction.

"I don't want to go, Mal! I want to fight," I protested, but when Malian was on a mission he never stopped to listen.

"You are out of arrows and they need all the healers they can get," Malian said with finality. I did not bother arguing.

"Have you seen Legolas?" I asked hopefully as we appeared in the clearing in front of the halls. A dozen or so patrols were standing guard, all of whom pointed their weapons at us as we emerged. Malian bowed his head at them, and they did so in return without a word, allowing us into the halls.

"I haven't seen him in days," Malian admitted, only letting go of my hand once we reached the foyer. He placed both of his hands behind my ears and brought my head forward, kissing the mud on my forehead. "And I know you have not either, but you must get some rest and do what work you can here. I'm sure Legolas is fine." I sighed unhappily, knowing Malian was right. He gave me another quick kiss on the forehead before nearly sprinting back outside and away from the halls, into the woods, into the thick of battle.

I turned toward my room, completely forgetting the cut on my arm and the stench of my body. Nothing could console me at that moment, and I crawled into my bed, blood and dirt still caked onto my skin, and fell into a fitful sleep.

---------------
"Legolas has been reported missing," Féoras said to me authoritatively. Over the past few years, Féoras had grown into a striking young Elf and had begun to get over his nervous social habits. I think he had rather taken a liking to me as of recently (or maybe since the first night we met), but I could not worry about that at the moment. Now was not the time for male-female bonding. Now was the time for war.

"Missing?" I nearly screamed at him. Panicked, I felt my heartbeat quicken to an almost uncontrollable pace and I felt the blood drain from my extremities. "Féoras…what do you mean he's missing?" The words were meant to be a demand, a determined question, but they escaped my lips as nothing more than a harsh whisper.

"No one has seen him for four days," Féoras replied what he thought was gently, but nothing about what he was saying was gentle. A cold shiver ran down my back and to my feet, leaving bumps all over my body. I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out, and my eyes brimmed with tears threatening to cascade down the waterfalls that were my cheeks. Managing to swallow hard enough to clear my throat, I found words to express what I was feeling. They may not have been the most coherent, well-planned words, but at least I said something.

"No…" I said slowly, beginning to breathe quickly. "Féoras, we have to find him."

"Laina," Féoras interjected, once again trying his best to sound comforting. What I expected was for him to tell me that it would be impossible to find him, that he was gone, or that people were already looking and we would be of no help, or that we needed to stay behind and do what we could at the halls, but instead Féoras asked, "Where do you want to look?" I raised an eyebrow at him, asking if he was sincere. All he did was stare back at me, the same worried yet determined expression in his grey eyes.

"We have to search every inch of this forest, Féoras. I have to find him."

"Then let us find him," Féoras answered, turning on his heel toward the weapon room. I followed after him like a sick puppy, wondering why he was being so accommodating and, for a split second, whether we should actually go out and look for him.

Suddenly, something struck me—not literally, though from the searing pain I could have sworn an arrow was sticking out of my right side. I stood still, watching a blurred Féoras stalk off resolutely. I wanted to call for his help but I had no air left in my lungs. I reached my hand in front of me, barely able to move my fingers, silently willing Féoras to turn around. A slight gasped escaped my lips before my head sagged and I fell to the ground.

"Laina!" Féoras yelled, turning and sprinting back to me. He picked my head gently off the floor and searched my eyes with his. "Laina, are you alright?" Incredulity was dripping from his voice. I took a deep breath, finally able to move my own body enough to grab my side in pain.

"My side," I managed, clutching it as it throbbed.

"What happened?" Féoras asked. And as fast as the pain had come, it dulled and I sat up without Féoras' help.

"I…my side…I don't know," I answered after a moment, furrowing my brow. "Help me up, Féoras…this changes nothing…" My breathing was still rapid enough to affect my speech, but I would not let anything get in my way now. "We have to find Legolas." Féoras nodded, eyeing me carefully before standing up and helping me to my feet. He placed one hand behind my head and brought it forward, kissing my hair delicately before grabbing my hand again and pulling me in the direction of the weapon room.