way back home // legolas

s i x

LEGOLAS

The longer I stayed, the more human I became. I was getting good at ignoring my unfailing elven abilities: for instance, I was oblivious with what the two had been arguing about downstairs, though I could hear their hushed tones and caught a few words. Okay, maybe not completely ignored, but it is a big step, right?

Nina had taught me a lot of things, although it had only been my fourth day. Yesterday, since I am not accustomed to this world, she had labeled bottles for me - from soaps to drinks inside the cold chamber known as refrigerator. Now, she had left me with a small device that plays music on two earpieces.

She left me listening to a song about "milkshake" and "boys to their yard" when Tristan called her downstairs. I was already catching up with the lyrics of the song, when they started arguing, trying so hard for me not to hear. I made myself busy so that I could give the two some privacy, but somehow, my ears rang when Tristan said, "Your Mom is on her way."

I felt myself stiff. Realization dawned me. If Tristan looked like my father, then does that mean his wife would look like my mother?

The possibility haunts me. I have not seen mine in a long time - her face is vague to me; no memory of her had been preserved in Mirkwood because my father refuses to do so. Her death had been the most painful memory he has, and the thought of seeing her would crush him. I do remember, the softness and stillness of her voice. Her voice would lull me back to sleep, creeping into every corners of my dreams; a voice as soft as the ocean's waves, its warm tone crawling up to the depths of my soul. It was her voice that would guide me in the night, when all is dark and the star's are gone, when the winds bring nothing but the cold. Her voice was the only memory I have of her, and I have sworn to the Valar that it would remain recorded into my head and my heart.

"Legolas, are you alright?" I glanced up and saw worried Nina, her arms crossed on her chest. A grin escaped through my lips, attempting to hide the sudden feeling of mourning.

"Of course," I assured.

She sat beside me, and I felt that she is trying to confide something with me. "Listen," she started, "my mom will be arriving in awhile, and you know our situation's a bit complicated right now... Dad and I are wondering if it's okay for you to stay upstairs? She might freak out-"

I cut her off, laughing. "Nina, you don't have to explain yourself. Go and meet your mother."

She stared at me, dumbfounded. I started to feel a little uncomfortable myself when she looked at me with her familiar eyes.

"You know I've been thinking, now that we've established that this world is a doppelgänger of yours, then it is possible that my mother could look like yours, don't you think?" she asked, leaning away, looking over her half opened window, as a gust of wind came by.

"I have thought of that too," I admitted. "But then I know I am not ready to see her."

She frowned. "Why?"

"She died when I was still young. I know very little of her, and it scares me to see her face on someone else, knowing she won't recognize me, her only son."

She keeps quiet, avoiding my gaze, playing with the cords of her ear plugs.

"Can I ask you something?" I asked. She nodded, smiling.

"Why does she not live in your home? She is Tristan's wife, is she not?"

She looked away, and suddenly I wondered if it was a thought that she tried so hard to forget. Maybe it was that one memory that is the reason for the hidden sadness behind her glistening eyes, the frown in her smirking mouth, and the tremble in her firm hands. Maybe it was that one memory she kept on burying, when I look so deep in her eyes.