Legolas / Reader (7)
Waiting. Waiting was the worst part. You had never been very good at waiting and now it was getting unbearable, making the last days of your life feel never ending and filled with dread as well as sorrow. Deep sorrow but also numbness because you knew there was nothing anyone could have done to fix it, to fix you. What had started as nothing but a case of an ordinary seasonal flu had quickly turned into something more sinister, something that had eventually tied you to bed for many weeks.
You had not been worried at first; it was not the first time you were experiencing flu but this time you did not have the patience to stay in bed, mostly due to the approaching show-tour of contemporary dancing that you had given the opportunity, the great honor to star in. You were a professional dancer working mainly in small projects in your hometown but just last spring you had auditioned for a role in a bigger production in (the biggest city of your country) and managed to get the lead role in the piece. The role was very physical and required plenty of hard work and training but since it had been the dream come true for you, the ultimate goal, you had not minded the extra push at all. In fact it was the struggle, the blood sweat and tears that had made the success even sweeter.
You had immediately moved to (the city) from your hometown and trained the entire summer for the role. The show had premiered in mid-autumn and it had been loved by both the audience and the critics all alike and after many sold-out shows in (the city), the producers had decided to take the show on road, including two sets-of-three shows abroad. However in the fifth location of the tour you had encountered a severely ill cleaning lady and after few days you had started to feel sick as well. Luckily the tour was heading back to the city you were living in for a Christmas break and you had reasoned that you would have plenty of time to recover during it. You had spent those ten days in bed but when it was time for the massive New Year’s show, you had not gotten quite well yet.
This however had not stopped you from returning to the stage. The thing was that since you had put such strain on your body, training hard without proper amount of rest in between combined with a very restricted diet to match the physical requirements of the leading role, you had actually pushed your body to the breaking point and the flu had been the last straw. You had not wanted to miss any shows because you knew that you would be easily replaced by another dancer, temporarily of course but you had known exactly how good she was, just as good as you actually, you had feared that taking time off would have given the director a reason to replace you for good. After all it wasn’t like your journey to this point had been flawless. Oh no, you had struggled quite a bit with some parts of the choreography and experienced slight problems with your ankle that had twisted many years ago and still sometimes gave you a hard time.
After the big New Year’s show the dance performance, you included, had returned on road, heading now abroad for in-total six shows, two sets of three in both locations. If dancing the lead role in this project had been the dream come true for you, being able to dance abroad was more than you could have ever dreamed about and therefore you made the fatal decision not to tell anyone that you were still sick. You knew you were being selfish and putting the entire production in danger since there was a real possibility that you would get everyone else sick as well but you did your very best to not to let it happen. You forced yourself up to the stage with fever-lowering painkillers but ended up having terrible chest pains after the shows when the medicine had worn off.
Then it had happened… the last show of your dancing career, although at the time you had not known it yet. It had been the last show abroad, the third act when you had suddenly collapsed during your solo part just before the finale. You had felt dizzy, a terrible stabbing pain in your chest and everything had gone black in a second. You had woken up in the hospital where the doctor had spoken broken English to you, making it impossible to understand what was going on. Apparently you had had a dangerously high fever and an infection that had spread to your heart due to the lack of rest and putting yourself through such intense physical feats in that condition.
You had flown back to (the city) and checked in a hospital for further tests and that had been the moment when the shit had hit the fan completely; after getting the test results the doctor had sat you down into a chair in a white, supposedly comfortable yet fake-personal office, on the opposite side of his desk. He had used long, difficult words that you had not understood and his speech had eventually turned into a muffled porridge in your head. You had just stared into nothing and screamed inside your head “How is this possible?” You had no idea what the issue really was but the expression on the doctor’s face was making it perfectly clear that it was serious.
- What about a heart transplant? your mother who had been accompanying you had asked with a clearly shocked and deeply troubled voice. There was an undertone of nervousness as well although she had tried her very best to hide it. You recoiled from your thoughts and turned your gaze from the wooden surface of the doctor’s desk to your mother. “Surely-“ she continued but she was instantly interrupted by the doctor.
- Too late for that, I’m afraid. the doctor stated and took a look at you. You shifted your eyes from your mother to the doctor.
- Why? you sighed and stared at the doctor with your eyes and mouth wide open.
- The infection has spread too wide now. the doctor replied and after a small pause added “The operation should have been done years ago.”
- What?! you gasped as a reaction.
- You have always had a… the doctor spoke but again there were long, Latin words that you couldn’t understand but you got the general idea anyway; you had always had a weak heart that should have never been put under such strain that you had put it when you had decided to become a professional dancer.
Rage and anger, those had been the first two feelings that had followed immediately as soon as the first reaction, a wave of rejection and denial had subsided. It was so unfair that after huge sacrifices and hard work your life would just… end. You had given everything to pursue the career you had dreamed of since your early childhood years. You had moved far away from your family, taken a risk of turning your relationship into a long-distance-thing which had then eventually led to a messy breakup due to your ex-boyfriend cheating on you and justifying his actions, in other words making it your fault, since you had become too busy after the rehearsals had begun.
You had poured your sorrow as well as your soul into the role and for six months you had been the star that you had always wanted to be… but then… but now… you were just trapped in this hospital bed, going through treatments that made things better for few days, giving you hope and then slapping you right in your face with the harsh reality that you were not going to get better, only worse… and you were already living on the borrowed time. So you had made the final decision not to drag this on any further and told the doctors that you did not want to try any treatments. They were useless anyway and only made you nauseous. Your mother had not approved this choice and after a bitter verbal fight she had left the hospital room and slammed the door behind her. Next day she had not returned anymore but you had understood why that was and therefore you had not held it against her; it must have been hell to her to see you suffer and then… just give up.
However this extra time had given you an opportunity to make peace with yourself and after plenty of thought you had managed to rise above anger and self pity. You had first blamed your mother for not telling you that there was something wrong with you but then you had realized that it wasn’t her fault. You had managed to say goodbyes to your closest friends and family, even talked with your ex-boyfriend on the phone and wished him a happy life because you had been finally able to admit that he was not alone to blame for the breakup. So after everything had been said and done… the last thing there was left to do was… to wait.
You could feel your body shutting down, slowly but still with an increasing speed so one night you decided to sneak out from your hospital room to dance for one final time. You had charged your wireless headphones for this and chosen your favorite song, the one to which you had danced in the audition a year ago, and now, after carefully pulling the pain-medication IV-needle out from your arm, you left the bed with shaky, heavy feet and walked into the long, silent corridor. You were wearing simple hospital clothes as well as slippers and after sneaking around with a quest of finding an empty area, you finally came across a quiet space with some room to dance.
You closed the door behind you, put your headphones on and took a position in the middle of the room, then you tapped the “play-icon” on the screen of your phone and the music started from the beginning. Your body ached when you took the first steps and kicked the slippers off from your feet, leaving you barefoot on the cold hospital floor. The room was dim and impersonal, the sound of arriving ambulances echoing through the music so you turned the volume up and closed your eyes to escape the reality for a moment.
You were in a forest, dancing barefoot on soft grass, the droplets of morning dew on the blades of grass, soothing the aches as your toes danced on them. It felt like your feet were barely touching the ground and as you danced to the special song, you could feel the troubles just dissolving into the golden morning light. You were wearing a beautiful, bohemian tunic or a short dress that you had been wearing in the audition with leggings and in the middle of the mist, bathing in the rays of the sun and golden leafs falling slowly down from the trees, you felt free, as if you had been a forest fairy, as light as a feather, full of life. You were dancing with your eyes closed but still somehow, you were aware of your surroundings.
You opened your eyes and the depressing sight greeted you again; the hospital room, cold hard floor and the ache that was getting more intense by every passing moment now that you weren’t getting any pain medication through the IV. You tried to jump but couldn’t. When you tried to squat, you were left behind in the choreography because you were unable to keep up with the music and realization of this made you sad, so deeply sad. Therefore you closed your eyes and immediately you were in the forest again, singing with the music and dancing without any effort. This, shifting from place to another, kept happening every time you opened your eyes and therefore you decided not to open your eyes anymore. You focused on the music, sang along in your mind and enjoyed every second of it.
Legolas had returned to Mirkwood just a week ago after the war of the ring. It was difficult to be back home after everything that he had experienced while traveling across the foreign realms and during the never ending battles where he had lost many of his new mortal friends and allies. He found himself often alone in the forest, just walking around and trying to get adjusted to the fact that it was now over and it was time to live again. Live… but how? The thing was that the elves did not usually encounter death and therefore seeing so much of it was making him sad.
Suddenly he heard faint music echoing in the forest, not very far from where he was walking. He had never heard such music before and for that he suspected for a moment that he had been put under a spell by some magical force. The elf sneaked closer, his bow and arrow ready to attack the possible enemy when he was met with a sight that got him mesmerized instantly; a woman dancing on the grass in a very strange yet beautiful way, singing along to a song that he had never heard before.
The woman moved in such graceful way that it seemed that her toes barely touched the ground, such a sight to behold. She danced with her eyes closed but still somehow she was perfectly aware of her surroundings, never hitting trees even though she was basically dancing among them. The woman’s skin glowed in the sunlight, but even though she seemed to be full of life, there was something very eerie about her. Perhaps she was a forest fairy, a spirit from some distant realm and the prince was the luckiest person in the whole Middle Earth to have the honor of witnessing it… whatever it was, the elf did not know exactly.
Suddenly you fell on your knees to the ground as a sharp pain washed over you in the exact same way it had hit you during your last performance. It was too strong to ignore, too strong to “imagine away by keeping your eyes closed” and this familiar pain was making it impossible to breathe. You heard footsteps getting nearer, someone with the softest voice talking you in a language that you couldn’t understand. You had never heard that language before and when he, the stranger... a beautiful, magical creature for sure, spoke it sounded almost like he had been singing instead.
Legolas saw you falling down on your knees and as an instant reaction he abandoned his hiding place and ran to you, asking in Elvish if you were alright, his heart almost exploding from worry. Without thinking about it he placed his hand on your shoulder, ready to help you in any way necessary but for his surprise, you suddenly grabbed his hand and pulled yourself up to continue your dance like you had not fallen at all. The song reached a midpoint, still echoing in the forest and this time the beautiful stranger joined you in the dance like he had been able to read your mind and therefore had been your perfect dancing partner.
It was no longer your dance, he was part of it now.
Every time the elf touched you he could see glimpses of your life, all the way from your childhood to these final moments in the hospital. Legolas did not know what it all meant but as he spun you around, lifted you up from the ground and held you fairly close, he started to feel deeply connected to you, like he had always known you and just like he felt this way, you saw glimpses of his life, the battles, grief and disconnection with the normal life that he had faced after the war had ended. Every time you held his hand, you saw what the beautiful stranger had gone through and felt the goodness of his heart as the song was coming to an end.
The song subsided, the last note still echoing in the forest. Legolas pulled you close, holding you firmly from your waist, tightly against him, his forehead pressed on yours, noses touching and enjoying your breath on his face. He shifted himself a little, tilted his head and finally pressed his lips softly on yours. His lips were soft and warm against yours and after holding you there for a moment, he spoke in that melodic language again, his lips brushing yours.
- Trust me. he said softly and this time you were able to understand him even though you did not exactly understand the words. It was more like a feeling of certainty, encouraging you to let go… so you did. You let yourself fall backwards, your arms hanging on your sides loosely and your hair dancing in the soft breeze as you hung there, trusting the stranger not to let you fall.
At that moment a nurse heard a sound of a tray carrying a set of glasses and a water carafe falling to the floor and shattering into a thousand tiny pieces in the next room. She opened the door and after seeing you laying on the floor, pale and lifeless as well as completely still, she immediately turned the lights on in the dim room and called the doctor… however there was nothing left to be done. You were gone already.
You opened your eyes and this time you were greeted with a pair of gorgeous, soulful blue eyes smiling at you, looking at you like he had known you… like he had loved you very deeply. A man, just as beautiful as you had imagined, fully focused on you, his long silver hair glowing in the morning light and those strong arms holding you so gently, effortlessly as if you had been lighter than a feather. You returned to his smile with a genuine smile, a healthy blush on your cheeks, knowing that you were going to be alright. This wasn’t an end… just another beginning.