The Last Light of the Star

13 - Time to Stop Wigging Out About Everything

Legolas spent the next couple weeks recovering from the spider's venom. At first, most of his time consisted of sleeping as he was entirely worn-down and exhausted. However, as he healed, he was permitted to forgo bedrest. Still, he was told that under no circumstance was he allowed to do any physical activity besides walking. This, much to his dismay, was an instruction he had to abide by. It did seem it was working though. The wound was starting to close and his other cuts and bruises were fading quickly. Furthermore, the intense pain within his head had dulled drastically thanks to a special potion prescribed by the Halafarin. However, with all this free time, Legolas found that he often got bored.

Currently, Legolas was browsing through the library. This is where he seemed to hover nowadays, for he could not do much else. But, it did give him time to think. He had seen many of his friends throughout this process as he still ate with them and they would come find him after patrol and training, but he had not seen Arryin. It seemed that she was avoiding him. The Ranger was still pissed at the Prince for the entirety of the spider incident. Of course, she was right. He had in fact been rash. But one could not change the past. Throughout this long term of contemplation, Legolas had come to a conclusion pertaining to the fury-filled elleth. Yes, Arryin's harsh attitude was unexpected, rude, and insensitive, but it showed him how much she truly cared for his well being. If she was not concerned about him, she would have had a very different reaction. Legolas considered this as a step forward. He was well aware that she lacked the ability to create deep relationships due to her long time in isolation. However, it seemed her stay at Mirkwood was changing that. She was making friends—her walls were beginning to come down.

As his thoughts focused on the Ranger, they drifted to a different aspect—to when he saw her in the river. That memory was burned into his mind, but not for the reasons one would think. Instead, it was the thought of the glowing tribal pattern upon her back that tormented him. Quite frankly, Legolas was unsure if it even was real. There is a high probability that the sight was a hallucination, for never had he been so delirious and uncomprehensive. The pain and venom influenced him greatly at the time, so it was not unusual to assume that a fragment of his imagination had been playing a trick on him. However, those markings still would not leave his thoughts.

If they did exist beyond his delusional state, were they native to a certain tribe? Why were they there? Where did they come from? Where did...she...come from?

Legolas sighed in frustration. He wasn't even sure if what he saw was real. So, why should he let it take up so many corners of his mind? Why was he even investigating the markings without the knowledge of their actual existence?

He shook his head as a way to snap out of his pestering thoughts. Legolas knew that he often focused on things that did not need it so. Beyla was always telling him to 'relax' and 'stop wigging out about everything.' And, quite frankly, it was time he listened to her.

The Prince, desperate to occupy his mind, continued weaving his way through the maze of paper-filled towers, until he came upon the history section. His calloused hand gently stroked the spins of every book as he strolled through the aisles. As he went, his brilliant blue eyes wandered across each title aimlessly, for nothing seemed to catch his eye.

It wasn't until he came across a section far in the depths of the knowledge-filled room that his dark brows furrowed. Tucked away in a corner, was a shelf covered in dust and cobwebs—likely not touched for thousands of years. It was rickety and almost bare. It was lonely and forgotten.

The Mirkwood Prince reached outwards, towards the few books that laid upon it. One of them, small, beaten, and brown-colored, stuck out to him. It appeared the oldest. It was well-worn and shoved underneath another. It was indeed hidden in its own unremarkability.