"Laurëfindelë", she asked, detaching every syllable. "Where are you from ?"

"Arda."

She frowned; where the heck was Arda ?

"Ok. Is it in America ?"

He shook his head, wondering what am-er-ee-ca was. He would have to borrow maps to situate himself in this new world. For the moment, he could only wait for Eleanor to understand, since he didn't know the right words.

"Africa ? Asia ?"

Another shake of his head. Eleanor was losing patience, the nagging impression that she was missing something huge pounding in her skull. Who had never seen a cat, even on TV ? How could someone be so amnesiac that he forgot cats ? Fed up, she walked away from the table to fetch an atlas, and opened the book between them.

"Show me," she commanded more than asked. If there was the slightest chance of Laurëfindelë returning home, they needed to find his place of birth. But the man shook his head anew, blond waves flying around his face, his expression too resolved to be hesitant.

"Not here," his musical voice cut in.

Eleanor's stomach plummeted as she refused to understand.

"How can it not be here ? This planet. Everything is here."

Intense blue eyes returned to her, watching every single expression written on her face to the point it became uncomfortable. Flustered, Eleanor roamed her skull for another idea, and decided to fetch pen and paper. She presented the items to him.

"Show me. Map."

He understood at once; his skilled hands started outlining a coast. Chewing on a piece of toast, Eleanor marvelled at the beauty of the map he was elaborating; mountains and darkened, forests, sandy beaches and rocky coasts sprang to life. A proof that his long-term memory was intact, at least. When a great sigh escaped his lips, Eleanor bent over the picture and asked:

"Your home ?"

He pointed to a small place in the middle of a mountain range.

"Gondolin. Hidden."

"Your home is hidden ?"

"Yes," he responded his gaze serious as he revealed the peculiarity of his city. Eleanor blinked; was he pulling her leg ? From the intense longing written on his face, she doubted it. Yet, she'd never heard of a city entirely surrounded by mountains like this. Perhaps it was an exaggeration ? Artistic licence ?

He wrote the name of the city, and many others in that incredible language of his, spelling them for her sake. Gondolin. Beleriand. Ossiriand. None of them rung a bell in her mind, and she returned to the Atlas.

"Alright. So where is this, on the world map ?"

Laurëfindelë eyes lit up as he took in the words written in the title – world map. A mad flash of hope sprang in Eleanor's heart; did he remember ? Then, the hammer fell and wiped her sanity away.

"Not this world."

Eleanor recoiled, dread coiling deep in her guts. Not this world. Was he… an alien ? Her mind descended into full panic, wondering what kind of creature she'd invited in her home ? Science fiction always left her uneasy; images flashed in her mind, massacres, invasions, domination, and many, many unsavoury things that only dwelt in horror movies. Step by step, she retreated, her heart beating so wildly it became painful.

Did he want to eat her ? Consume her ? Worse ? What had she done, taking him under the government's nose ? Did she sign her death warrant ?

"Eleanor."

His voice was calm, his eyes wary. Shaking fingers pinched the bridge of her nose; he did not seem ready to attack her. Was it a trick ?

"Laurë….", she started, her body shaking from head to toe. "Did you… did you fly here ?"

He frowned, the beauty of his features so inhuman that she beat herself for not spotting it before. How had he kept her under his thrall, all this time?

"Fly ? No. Birds fly. I… not."

The very notion seemed so preposterous to him that she believed it. So, no flying saucer, or spaceship. "Then how ?"

He sighed, the sound so desperate that despite the fear that paralysed her, she felt for him.

Watch it, Ella. He's mesmerising you again. Don't fall in his trap.

"I know not."

Something else passed upon his features. Pain, uneasiness, fear. Could an alien really suffer like its human counterparts ? Eleanor's mind was in shambles, grasping at straws, completely lost. Who should fear whom ? How could she remain here, sleeping next to an otherworldly being ? But again, he had not harmed her.

Yet.

Frozen in place, she did not dare move. What if he transformed into something else ? Something ghastly, beastly ? What if his inhuman beauty was just a façade to deceive human beings ?

Ding Dong !

Eleanor squeaked in fright and darted to the entrance, more frightened than she'd ever been. Only to find Myriam at the door.

"Ella ! You look a fright, dear" her friend greeted. Then she handed over a stack of papers haphazardly assembled and winked. "Here, I managed to steal his file. Burn it, do whatever you want with it."

The nurse turned to the alien and gave him a thumbs up; her bubbly personality so overwhelming that Eleanor's mind blanked.

"Ah good, Laurëfindelë. You look better. I'll change your bandages while I'm at it. Ella, you'll have to take over afterwards. I brought supplies."

Stunned, Eleanor only nodded, watching as Laurëfindelë allowed himself to be led to the sofa. He was his charming self – silent and grateful - as Myriam prodded and undressed him, revealing a body to die for, laden with scars and remnants of burnt skin. She wanted to scream, to tell Myriam not to stay so close, but the dejected look in his eyes stilled her tongue.

Opening the file, Eleanor found a long report that pointed the many anomalies of his blood tests. Abnormal count of red corpuscles, unknown components in his blood, hematopoietic cells in numbers – what the hell were even those ? Stem cells, which allowed for regeneration. Antibodies, much more than usual.

We ask for further investigation in this case. The tests were run twice, and consistent.

Is that how the government had found him ?

Myriam was a flurry of activity, stating she could not stay for long, and Eleanor wondered whether she should hitch a ride with her nurse friend and escape, or… or what ? What would Myriam do if she told her she thought Laurëfindelë was an alien ? Probably ship her to the psychiatric ward with her mother.

The tornado that was her friend wrapped up the visit with instructions about food, bandaging and too many things for Eleanor to remember in her state of mind. Every time the nurse flittered around the alien, she expected him to lash out and…

And what, exactly ?

The young woman couldn't make sense of her fear, but it gripped her guts with such power that she almost retched. What had she done ? What would happen now he was unmasked ?

"Ella, you're alright ?"

Myriam's concerned frowned called her back to reality. Face to face, she couldn't find the strength to lie. Words caught in her throat.

"I…"

A warm hand landed on her forehead. Eleanor closed her eyes, grateful for Myriam's concern, and equally afraid that she would be caught in the crossfire of her stupidity. But again, wasn't it the nurse who had called her in the first place ? Insisted she extrude Laurëfindelë ? Did she have any clue of what predator she'd thrown in her friend's lap ?

"I… am perturbed."

Myriam sent her an indulgent smile.

"I understand, that's a lot to take in for a solitary soul like yours. I am sure our mutual friend is grateful for your care, there are not many people who would do that for a stranger."

Right. Let alone for a guy from outer space.

An oppressive wave of fear descended in her gut and Eleanor's eyes drifted above Myriam's shoulder, landing on said alien. Blond waves dissimulated his face as he contemplated the landscape, giving them some privacy. Yet, she knew he heard every single word exchanged between them.

True, he was beauty incarnated in a male, so mesmerising that she could hardly think rationally in his presence. An alien in human disguise. A being more sentient and intelligent than anyone she had ever met. The greatest of allies, provided his intentions were honourable. The fiercest of enemy should he decide otherwise.

Eleanor decided to accompany Myriam to her car, and shut the door behind them both, missing the wistful expression upon Laurë's face. Freedom ! her brain shouted. A few deep breath later, the young woman realised she did not feel as relieved as she should.

"Ella ? What is wrong ? Has he given you trouble ?"

The historian nerd shook her head, tongue-tied. Myriam probably wondered if her forceful push to abduct the man was a mistake. Instincts screamed at her to save herself. Perhaps she could just climb in the car and never return to the cottage ? Survival instinct dictated that she put as much distance as possible between her and the alien.

Another part of her outright refused to leave him alone, and confused by this new world. Reason and compassion warred in her chest, and it tightened in response.

"Come on, Ella," Myriam smiled mischievously. "You could do with a man in your life."

Eleanor's jaw dropped open at the absurdity of the concept. "Are you seriously trying to set me up ?"

With an alien ?

The idea was so preposterous that she almost choked.

"Look, the guy is so fucking beautiful he could own any runway. And you're the only one to understand him. And I bet he's about your age."

How far into surrealism could her existence descend in ? To discuss a potential match with an alien adamant to return to his birth place?

"Don't dream," she snapped. "As soon as he is healed he'll return to his family."

"Have you found it ?" Myriam asked, curious to learn more about the mysterious patient.

"Not yet."

A wide smile split Myriam's face and she nicked Eleanor on the shoulder.

"Then take advantage of your time with mister gorgeous here. He's not fit for sex yet, but at the rate he is healing…"

Right. He's an alien. A frigging alien !

"Please stop, Myriam."

"You prude."

But the screams that resonated in her head never made it to her lips, and Myriam climbed in her diminutive car and waved goodbye. Eleanor's heart missed a beat when the blue Vauxhall picked up speed, feeling like she'd just missed her cue to survive. Perhaps, if she ran fast enough …. ? But her feet were glued to the ground of her cottage.

With a sigh, Eleanor watched her friend's car disappear downhill with apprehension. A few feet away, a lonely alien, golden mane shining in the sunrays, sat upon her sofa. Ever since she'd discovered he came from another world, he had not made a move towards her. Could it be than the movies were wrong ? That all those that came from outer space were not evil ?

With a sigh, the young woman gathered her courage and retreated in the house.

"Laurëfindelë," she called, voice strained.

His head snapped up, gaze guarded, hand twined upon his knees. Just a nod, to indicate he'd heard her. Fighting the instinct to flee, Eleanor perched upon the sofa's armrest, far enough to be able to spring backwards.

"What do you want ?" she asked, her voice hesitant.

He watched her, brow furrowed, as if he struggled to understand her words.

"Why are you here ?", she insisted.

"I do not want here," he said slowly, his musical voice deadened. Then his gaze deviated to the side, and got lost in the luxurious nature. "I go home."

He sounded so wistful.

"Will you hurt me ? Hurt… humans ?"

He shook his golden head, wavy strands dancing in the light.

"No. I no hurt. Eleanor-va meldië. I friend."

His gaze conveyed such an earnest light that she swallowed. Before she could truly quell the fear away, she needed to crush her overactive imagination.

"Are you real ? Is this your real form ?"

He frowned; of course, none of what she said made sense.

"Can you transform into something different ? Is this a disguise ?"

Still no luck. He might have picked up a few words, but they failed at forming a concept. Roaming her brain, she tried another approach.

"Are you a mask ? An illusion ?"

This time, he seemed to understand what she meant; thank God his ability to learn was superior to hers.

"No hiding. I am… me."

Eleanor snorted; just him was overwhelming enough without the fear to find something, otherworldly, lounging upon her sofa. When his hand brushed hers, warm fingers enclosing around her own, the young woman felt her heart settle. There was such peace in his touch, such warmth; a genuine caress of skin upon skin.

If it was a spell, she'd eagerly drown in it.

"What... fear ?" his lilting voice asked. "No danger. No Raxë."

Well, man, when you watch Alien you tell me.

Time for the deep plunge then. Eleanor took a deep, cleansing breath and caught his eyes.

"Can I… trust you ?"

Blue eyes flickered with hope, and he nodded at once. This time, there was no hesitation with words when he responded.

"Yes. And I trust you."

For a long, painful moment, Eleanor considered their entwined hands, and what it meant to choose the path she was about to take. After all, her mother was crazy; who said she wasn't walking the same line ? Who cared, really ? She had no lover, no children, only a few friends. The only one in danger was her. With a long exhale, she eventually nodded and stood.

"Alright. Welcome to my home, Laurëfindelë."

The gentle alien inclined his head in thanks, and she couldn't help but notice how his shoulders slumped in relief. Whoever that person was, the purity of his heart entranced her. And so, Eleanor stood and disappeared in the little office of the cottage. If they were to cohabit, she needed to get a room for herself. As she pushed and prodded her furniture, the sound of breakfast being cleaned reached her; Eleanor smiled. She would grant him that little task, provided he did not pull too hard on his healing muscles.

Many, many boxes of books and clutter later, she could at last unroll the futon on the floor of her office. Then, she picked her favourite items from the closet, arranging them in between thesis, another set of books, and her computer. This would have to do.

"Laurëfindelë sleep here."

Eleanor jumped in fright; how the heck was he so silent ? Her heart drumming, she narrowed her eyes at him; he lifted his hands sheepishly, asking forgiveness with a slight smile. The young woman sighed; with his angelic face, she was bound to lose any further argument. But not this one.

"No. You need to heal."

She would explain, much later, how the futon was traditional in Japan, and not so good when mending broken bones and scorched skin. And with his height, he might not even fit in ayway. The gentle alien frowned slightly, but nodded his assent. Whether because his lack of vocabulary, or because he accepted her logic remained to be seen.

For the moment, she would bask in the pride of reaching a tentative equilibrium. Whatever would come next could wait.

Ella, the alien tamer.