Death is inevitable. It always lurks in the darkest corners of one’s mind, always in waiting, always constant. Although the world changes, life, and death are constant. But death is also a mysterious event, different for every being. It is said that when your final days approach, all your memories come like a flood and you can see your whole life pass in front of your eyes. Some say that the soul leaves the body and goes into the world, becomes one with it. Others say that the soul is judged by God and then it can go either to Heaven, to be happy forever, or to Hell, to everlasting torture. And there is one story about a world beyond the limits of our earth, where beings rarely die and where it is always light and joy and love. But elves do die, too.

Darkness can be found too in the light that shines as bright as the stars. Coldness can still be felt in the warmth of a home and silence can be heard in the noisiest halls. Hatred can corrupt the pure souls of the naïve and kind and the sparkle in their eyes can turn into nothing. Emptiness can be found where once was love and life. Death brings all these elements together and forces them upon the soul. You can admit or deny it, but your past cannot be changed. And so, in the middle of that vast hall where the soul has to see itself for what it is and what it did, there is no place to hide or run.  

The ground was damp, or at least so it was where this particular soul was, sprawled on the floor, dirty and in terrible pain. She could barely move or talk, she felt as though her whole body was paralyzed, but she was aware that it was not a dream, yet not reality either. She was thirsty, and hungry, she had so much to say and yet she wouldn’t reply if asked about her story. What was the point in sharing her truth; she felt that if she spoke, then it all really happened. Reality hurt the most. But she did not regret it, nothing she has done in her life was worth regretting, and if she were to return in time, she would make exactly the same mistakes and would confide in the same people.

"You have come so far, but you cannot go all the way. Life is not over yet, at least not for you, not for now." a man said, his tone soft at the beginning yet audibly growing more authoritarian. 

"Nothing you do will redeem me and nothing I do will allow me peace." She said with a trembling voice, feeling very uncomfortable standing there, all weak and barely able to raise her head and look at him.

"You are not to be redeemed, daughter of Valdaglerion. You are to be punished," the man said in a loud voice, contemplating her state.

"There is no punishment that can even my faults," she added, chuckling under her breath. "You cannot change what has already happened and nothing that follows will be worth my return." 

He did not respond but instead, he reached down, placed his hands over her eyes and light came from his palms. She screamed, feeling like a million needles were piercing her head. For this particular soul, returning to life was more terrible than dying.

---

Nature could feel something happened, that a new path was being built and a new story was about to begin. Trees were moving without a single gust of wind and animals were restless. It was a change that could either save or kill and the chances seemed to lean ttowardthe latter. However, just because something seemed evil, it did not mean it was, and there were many more sparkling elements around.

A man was running from tree to tree, searching for something very important, although his face wouldn't hint he was under any type of stress. But he was tense and he was holding his bow tightly in his hand, ready to pull it into action if the case arose. It wasn't exactly his line of work to go around without a clear aim. Now, he did have a purpose at the moment but not one that he was accustomed to. He was an archer, not a babysitter and although he loved the prince, he would have preferred to do something of more benefit to the kingdom than play hide and seek with an elfling. His king trusted (or maybe punished) him with the safety of his son for the whole afternoon and yet he lost him. 

"I can't believe this is happening," he mumbled to himself growing more alarmed as he realized he was getting closer to the northern borders. 

On the other hand, prince Legolas seemed to be greatly amused by his new guard. It was always the same: have a majority of elleths in his palm inside the palace and have warriors, usually, archers, babysit him when he was out and about in the forest. 

"If only they'd be able to keep up..." Legolas said bemused by how easy he could escape every single time. 

He knew where he was, he didn't want to stray far from home so he mostly followed the elven path. But even if he did wander further, he wouldn't get completely lost.

"Why do they act like I'm still a child, I'll be of age very soon..." complained the silver-haired elf as he jumped off a tree and started to walk around, always taking a glance behind to make sure he could still see the Elven Path. 

If his looks were as fair as a teenager's after puberty, which would be around 17 or 18 years in a human's cycle, Legolas was 50 years old and still hoping to grow taller. He was the prince of Greenwood, the land of the wood elves, and he loved his position but it felt like everyone pleased him, from games to education and even day-to-day conversation. Nothing he ever did or said was wrong, it was always just slightly misinterpreted because he was young. That answer always left him with no sense of achievement. 

The presence of the elfling had disturbed the trees even more but it also seemed to balance the darkness that was lying hidden through leaves and dirt and blood. The branches shifted and the trees made way for the prince. He looked around sensing that he was being shown his direction. Following their lead, he came upon a body lying on the grass. It would have been really easy to miss since it was a few good miles from the Path, almost across the border of the wood land. 

"Are you alright?” He asked, approaching the body woodland

His grey eyes widened he saw her chest was not rising and she seemed to be dead. Curiosity took over him as he scooped closer and took a long look at the woman. First of all, she was covered in dirt and blood, some not hers from the colour of it and it seemed like she had been out in the forest for at least a few days. There were signs that rain and strong wind had passed and yet not one creature approached her.  Another detail that surprised the young elf was her pain; even with her eyes closed, she looked like she was in terrible pain. His eyes moved downwards to her clothing: she had dark tights under what looked like a man’s tunic that came down to her knees. It looked like it has been modified here and there and wrapped tightly around her waist was a leather belt and a sheath where once must have been a sword. The tunic was worn out and it had holes with blood gushing out from wounds that he couldn’t see.  Going further down, he noticed an arrow that was still very much stuck in her side.

Oddly enough, there was something written on her wrist. It was nothing familiar and yet he could understand it was not good. Drawn by the words, the elf leaned forward, immersed into the mystery behind it. At that moment, her hand jolted, scaring him to death.

“Prince Legolas!”

The boy looked up at the archer before he glanced back at the woman. He waited for him to approach enough to notice her too.  The head of the guards, an imposing elf with broad shoulders and a stiff face ran to his prince, worry in his blue eyes even though his face was blank.

“You have to stop running, my prince. I could not find you for several hours and was deeply worried for your safety.”

“Dorondir, this woman is deadly wounded,” Legolas said, not at all listening to his guard.

Dorondir looked at the woman lying on the ground thoughtfully but no matter how hard he tried, there was no sign that she was alive.

“We have to help her. She’s fallen in our land.” Legolas added, hoping that enough will make him take action.

The guard sighed but couldn’t really deny his prince’s wish.

“Very well. But it may be too late."

"Trust me, she’s still alive. She almost hit me," Legolas explained watching Dorondir scoop her in his arms as if she was a sack of potatoes.

"It could have been just a muscle contraction," Dorondir said not content at all with how his day turned out.

"Be careful, she'll feel if you mistreat her. As the prince, I need to take care of any fallen into my land." 

Dorondir did not reply and not because Legolas held power over him but because the elfling was incredibly stubborn.

On the way back to the Halls, Legolas kept watch over the woman, just in case she’d wake up and he could prove he did not imagine her move. But nothing really happened and Dorondir believed more than before that he was carrying a corpse.

---

The guards were talking to each other, nudging one another to go and inform their king of what his son has done recently. But in the end, Dorondir arrived with a disgruntled expression and dirty tunic after having carried a bloody elf to the healing rooms.

“My lord, I have news regarding your son. In his recent activities outside, he has come across an interesting sight. Unfortunately, I could not deny his desire to bring it into the kingdom.” Dorondir explained, knowing this news will zoom through the woodland like fire.

The Elvenking was on his throne, thinking about his trades with the people of Esgaroth and how it seemed like there was a need of more supplies for the banquet in his son’s name. After all, he was finally coming of age and a big celebration was in order.

“And what is so interesting about this pet?” The king asked, not even glancing at Dorondir.

“It is not a pet, sir, it is a woman; an elleth to be exact. From what I could note, she must have been in that clearing for approximately two weeks. She has many wounds, among which the deadly one on her side from a poisoned arrow. She must have been running from goblins if she came from the Misty Mountains but we don’t know that for sure.” Dorondir explained.

“Then why did my son bring a dead elleth into my Halls?” the king asked, far more troubled by how Legolas was far too nice for his own good.

“We haven’t encountered any goblins in our patrol, sir,” Interfered one of the lower guards.

Thranduil sighed and rubbed his forehead as he thought about what his next move should be.  

“The prince is sure that she is still alive, although I tried to convince him otherwise,” Dorondir added. “How should we proceed? He is adamant to have the healers treat her.”

Thranduil didn’t sketch a single movement but it was obvious he was annoyed with the news.

"Let him do as he wishes for now but bury her as soon as he understands she is dead. And call Gaelvel. We need to discuss the itinerary for the banquet.” Thranduil asked thinking how he did not want it to ruin the festivities with her rotten smell.

Dorondir nodded and turned to the lower guards who were still intrigued by the news.

“Leave for that clearing and make sure there are no goblins hiding,” He ordered since the two were too nosy.

---

Once the healer was called upon, they literally had to force the prince out.

Seeing no sign that she was breathing, the elves of the woods did what was in their power to tend to her wounds. Several times they checked to see if they could find any sign that she was alive, just as Legolas implied, but nothing happened for hours. It was already dawn when they left for other important matters.

Behind closed doors and in complete silence, under no lights, because the room had no windows, her eyes opened wide and she took a long and loud breath in. The woman rose to a sitting position and breathed heavily, her heart pounding in her chest. She looked around but could not recognize the room. Heavy steps came towards the door, she could hear a lot of murmurs outside before the door opened, and in came an elf. It took a moment for him to enlighten the room and realize that his dead patient was now looking at him in a standing position. 

“Oh my! You’re awake! Lord Gweluven, come quickly!” he exclaimed, sticking his head out the door before more feet approached. 

Two more elves entered, a woman with brown hair and brown eyes dressed in a long blue robe and a man so tall that it took the patient aback, especially because he had silver hair which she hadn’t seen in a long time. 

The elf with silver hair was just as surprised. He hurried to her side and gaped at the color in her cheeks.

“We believed you dead.” He explained, very pleased to see her awake. “The prince will be delighted to find that he was right.” 

Seeing her now, she looked a lot more like an elf. Her dark red hair was an amazing contrast to her green eyes; it looked just like the way the sun glazes over the forest at twilight.

“Where am I?” she asked in a hoarse voice. It felt like she did nothing but scream before she woke up.

“This is Greenwood the Great. You’re in the Halls of King Thranduil. The prince found you stabbed by a poisoned arrow.” The brown-haired elleth explained, all the time staring into those green eyes.

The patient looked down at her hands before she looked at the healers. They were all watching her patiently, waiting for her to say something. Taking her time adjusting to her new surroundings, she took care to memorize their faces: the elleth was short yet very elegant, with a long swan neck and eyes the colour of chocolate. She was dressed in a long pale blue dress and she seemed uncomfortable. Next was the elf that entered first who seemed to be in constant awestruck, his short dark hair spiked up in all ways, dressed in robes that resembled the elleth’s pale blue dress. The last one was also the oldest, from the way his eyes watched her with experience. He was tall and clean and smelled nice. Standing next to him made her feel safe. 

“Is there something wrong?” the spiky-haired one asked once he saw her eyes sparkling in the light. 

“It is odd indeed. I cannot remember, no matter how much I try, just what was that happened to me.” She answered looking confused at the elves.

“You were shot by a poisoned arrow. It is a miracle you are alive. You were out there for weeks before you were brought in.” he answered taking a step closer.

The woman took a peek at her wound but found that the bandages hid nothing. Her side looked as if nothing happened, confusing even the healers. The silver-haired healer looked up at her and noticed how dirty she really was. It was hard to figure out how she looked exactly with so much blood and dirt on her face and in her hair.

“You should bathe and dress in clean clothes. Miluinir will bring you a dress to change into shortly.” As he said that the spiky-haired elf left the room.

Waiting took very little because the elf had run and came back with a simple green dress, one that matched her eyes. Taking the piece of clothing from him, she couldn’t help but look into his grey eyes and ask.

“What is this place?”

“Gweluven will answer all your questions,” Miluinir said with a smile before he turned to the other elleth and both retreated out of the room, leaving the patient with Gweluven.

The healer smiled softly, making him look so much older than before. He obviously did not have the constitution of a warrior –he was too slender and soft- but that was especially why she felt so comfortable with him.

“Gweluven is my name, my lady. I am the oldest healer in Greenwood. And what is your name if I may ask?”

That was a good question. She knew the answer, it was there, on the tip of her tongue, yet it was difficult for her to say it. It felt like she hadn’t introduced herself in a very long time.

Gweluven understood she could barely walk so maybe it was not surprising that she couldn’t remember who she was and where she came from.

“My name,” she mumbled to herself, confused. She knew it and yet her mind was a mess. She flinched when she started to hear a lot of voices, screaming names at her, but in that chaos, she heard a faint whisper. “Mistril,” she said.

“Do you remember anything else?” Gweluven asked watching her carefully.

“No, not now,” She admitted finding no reason to lie to this person.

Gweluven nodded and decided that was a good start. It seemed if she had more time to reflect there were details about herself that could unconsciously come around. He smiled kindly and led her to a room made of stone. In the middle of it was a basin where a small waterfall was pouring down from somewhere very high. The water was not cold but not hot either and the healer gave her something in a bottle that smelled of roses.

He left swiftly afterwards. Mistril undressed and got in the basin, a smile widening on her face at the clean touch of the water. She spent a few minutes just relaxing before she actually started to clean herself. Her skin was fair as if years haven’t touched her one bit. While she was cleaning her hair, her eyes were closed so she couldn’t notice how something else was coming off except dirt.

Once she was done she dressed and spun around, amusing herself with the feeling of it. For some reason, wearing a dress made her feel like an elfling once more. Turning towards the basin, she looked at her reflection and frowned. She touched her cheek with one hand and her hair with the other. Her dark red hair was now an orange colour. Without thinking, she reached for her leather belt and grabbed a small knife out of it. She cut her long locks until the tip of her hair could barely touch her collarbone.   

“I see you are ready,” Gweluven said from the archway towards the halls. He couldn’t help but gasp at how she looked now compared to just a few minutes ago. “The king wants to see you.”

It felt like Mistril was being led to her death sentence because every elf that had the opportunity was staring at her. She only had to meet the king, bow, and explain what she could but the attention she was receiving, although it was from afar, was unnerving.

"You cut your hair," Gweluven commented, glancing at her anxious form. "You could have waited for a bit and I could have asked one of the elleths of the court to help you with it."

"It was bothersome. I wanted to do it myself." She replied not looking at him, only ahead. 

The healer couldn't help but keep throwing brief glances at her for the rest of the way. She was alive and well but she looked empty. Her light was so dim, but that was to be understood since she literally just returned from the dead.