Of Futures Past (Legolas)

23

Alana did not fully wake for the better part of three days, her eyes sliding half open long enough for her to smile at one of the hobbits, then closing. She drifted in and out of dreams, which, for once, did not consist of visions, but only memories and hopes. She had depleted her magic extensively putting the spell on Boromir and creating a lasting illusion.

Often, she could feel Legolas's hand in hers, the whisper of his fingers against her cheek, the shivers she would sometimes get from hearing his voice. That was so very different from the shivers she'd get from oncoming visions. There were no spiders, a species which she so deeply hated, only spring breezes and butterflies and energy that makes her smile enough to hurt her cheeks. She did not want to think about who was touching her now. That would send a whole new type of shiver that she hoped to never experience.

As she felt her back touch the floor, her eyes opened halfway. It was sunset, from what she could tell, and her arms and legs were bound together. Her eyes kept shifting between her normal vision, and the view she'd had after drinking Lorien's vial—all at once she could see through her own eyes, everyone else's and a bird's eye view. Her splitting headache begged to drag her back to unconsciousness, but through her flickering perspectives, she could see Merry and Pippin lying next to her.

"Merry... Pippin..." Alana groaned, forcing her eyes to remain open. The two hobbits shuffled towards her anxiously while a group of orcs started cutting down the trees, which moaned in response.

"Alana! Are you alright?" Pippin asked, while Merry shushed him. Alana smiled weakly.

"Yes, I'll be alright. Just tired." Alana replied in a whisper.

"Tired? You've been sleeping for three days." Merry argued worriedly.

"You both are sweet, but do not worry for me." Alana's smile turned tender towards both hobbits, who both suddenly felt like their eyes might be watering.

A low groan sounded, echoing.

"What's making that noise?" Pippin whispered.

"It's the trees." At Pippin's confused "What?", Merry continued. "Do you remember the Old Forest? On the borders of Buckland? Folk used to say that there was something in the water that made the trees grow tall... and come alive."

"Alive?"

"Trees that could whisper. Talk to each other. Even move."

Alana coughed weakly, causing the two boys to focus their undivided attention towards her. 

"Are you alright?" Merry fretted, doing his best to feel her forehead with tied arms.

"When the time comes, you two must run. Go into the forest and don't look back. Tell them I sent you." Alana murmured, trying to ignore the orcs currently discussing eating them, or worse.

"Tell who?" Merry asked.

"You're coming with us, right?" Pippin pressed.

Alana shook her head. "I can't. I'll only slow you both down." At their looks of horror, Alana added, "Remember, I can see the future, I won't die. You're not abandoning me, you're just surviving. If you stay with me, you'll die."

"But-" Pippin started, glancing between Alana and Merry who had made eye contact and seemed to be communication voicelessly.

"Fine. If I hear anything happened to you, I'll kill you myself." Merry vowed emptily. Alana chuckled, almost choking in her weak state. 

"Thank you. Keep each other safe."

The two hobbits nodded, then started getting to work, using the knife left in Alana's boots to cut all their restraints, then settling back into their positions to wait until the opportune moment.

The moment came swifter than expected, as soon after night had fallen, the sound of hooves had Alana's eyes shooting wide open.

"Once the riders arrive, you run." Alana ordered, her weak voice not stopping the authority from seeping into her words. The hobbits nodded, each grabbing one of her hands and squeezing tightly until the moment came.

Once the horses were visible, all the Uruk turned towards them, and the hobbits sprinted away into the forest. Alana waited until they were out of sight before forcing herself to start crawling, inching her way towards the forest herself, before something flipped her onto her back again, gripping her throat. The disgusting face of a drooling orc hovered above her.

"Trying to escape, are you, pretty she elf?" To her left, she could see Uruk getting speared one by one by the Riders of Rohan, while she was too far off to be spotted just yet. "Such a shame the Master wanted you unspoiled. I bet you're tasty." Alana felt nausea rising up in her throat, and those disgusting shivers she had never wanted to face racing up her back. A rotten hand caressed the side of her face, making her flinch. "I bet you make even better sport, don't you?"

His hand continued past the one around her neck, to her collarbone, and lower, to her chest, as he watched her squirm weakly beneath him. Her eyes flashed between green and pure black and she let out a wave of desperation that the orc was unaware of. A rider though, nearby, had heard a scream and within seconds a spear had gone through the orc's back, causing it to fall on top of a shivering Alana, tears mixed with the dried blood that had been shed three days before.

The orc was flicked off of her with a sword and at last, at last, his hands were gone from her body. 

"Are you alright, my lady?" The Rider asked. Alana, with all her efforts, managed to push herself into a quivering seated position.

"No. But, do not worry for me." Her voice was so quiet he had to strain to hear it.

"I am Eomer of Rohan. What has made you involved with the Uruk hai?" He asked in a gentle tone, dismounting his horse and kneeling to be at the same level as her.

Alana could not answer.

Eomer reached a hand out to her to help her up, and she flinched away violently, suddenly having the strength to move, her eyes fully black once more.

"Don't touch me."

Eomer's eyes saddened, taking in the orc he had just killed. "I do not know how to help you then. You are not well enough to stay on a horse on your own."

Alana took a deep breath, forcing herself to stand, her eyes gleaming. Eomer felt himself shiver at the unbreaking blackness. "What are you?"

"I am an elf. I am no spy of Sauron, if you can see from how you rescued me." Somehow, the thought of being touched—the repulsion— had given her energy, enough to stand and speak, but not return to seeing the world as normal. Still, she was stuck in the perspective of Lorien's vial.

It took very few minutes for the battle to be finished, and after explaining Alana's predicament in vague detail to his men, she was given one of the three now riderless horses to join them, though watched by some of Eomer's best men, all of whom she refused to touch and visibly recoiled from.

"We will protect you, my lady, as far as the next town, where we will get you medical help." Eomer assured. Alana nodded, her expression dead once more.