Through Fire and Water (A Legolas Love Story)

Waking Up

Ana’s P.O.V.

When I wake up the first thing I realise is that I’m alive, which is a relief and a surprise. The next thing I realise is that I’m definitely in a bed because I can feel the starchy sheets all around me. Bed, that could mean all sorts, but my best bet is probably a hospital. The third thing I realise is how bloody awful I feel. I feel like someone has sucked all the life and good feeling out of me. The fourth thing I realise is actually 2 things: I was stabbed, I remember that, and I am alive, which is a revelation so massive that I still hadn’t quite understood it after the first time I realised it, so I realise it again just to make sure I get it.

After that everything comes at me in a rush of senses and memories, but the most prominent of these is the two hands clutching my own, one rough and calloused, a hand so familiar to me that it instantly makes everything seem a little less terrifying, dad’s hand. The other is smooth and warm and soft and brings to mind images of kissing and lying in someone’s arms, safe. Legolas’ hand.

And then I open my eyes and this tiny blip of a moment I have been existing in, using to take stock of my situation, ends and everything becomes real. I can tell the light here isn’t bright but it still burns my eyes and I cry out a little, slamming them shut again, and crying out some more as I wince at the light levels and pain explodes in my tightly bandaged side, and in my head and in my chest, basically it hurts everywhere important.

Simultaneously dad and Legolas say my name in shock. Legolas’ hands are both instantly clutching mine, his fingers stroking my wrist. Dad puts his fingers on my eyes, stroking my closed lids gently.

“Is it too bright in here sweetheart?” he asks, sounding calm and comforting. I can’t imagine he is finding this situation easy but somehow whenever I need him he goes into this zone where he is calm and knows exactly what to do.

I don’t have it in me to form words so instead I just make a vague ‘mmm’ noise, hating that even that hurts. “Open your eyes sweetheart” he says, moving his fingers from eyes and stroking my cheek instead. “Slowly” he says, encouraging. So I do as he says, because in these situations dad always knows best.

It’s still too bright, but not as bad this time round and I keep my eyes half-open. It’s just the three of us in this room, me and the two most important people in existence, in my opinion at least.

“Good morning” Legolas says.

“Morning” I whisper back, but my throat is dry and parched so it comes out in a croak. I’m about to ask for water but dad has already moved to the side of the room and I hear the sounds of pouring water. A moment later there is a hand on the back of my head and Legolas’ hands on my shoulders. Together the two of them sit me up slightly, Legolas lifting my torso while dad holds my head and readjusts the pillows. It still hurts, and I cry out, but it isn’t so bad. Once I’m sat up a little dad places the cup to my lips and slowly tilts it, letting me drink. The cool liquid courses down my throat and I feel a lot better, able to speak.

“That is so much better” I say lightly, not that I’m in a very light mood. They can both see straight through my bogus light exterior to the crap I’m feeling inside. “Could you please both cheer up” I say “Looking at your long faces is making me feel like I’m at a funeral”

Ok, so maybe that wasn’t the best choice of words. Legolas and Aragorn exchange a look and I feel my stomach churn. “Crap, I’m going to die aren’t I” I say, slumping even further down into my pillows.

“What? No!” dad says, and Legolas simultaneously says “No, of course not!”

“You’re going to be fine” dad says once they have both calmed down from their little outbursts.