The Elf

by QPaysTaxes

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Alternate Universe, Human
Length: 2239

An elf, from across the Everfree Forest, gets mortally wounded and carried to Ponyville, the nearest town with a hospital.

Silverstring, an elf (technically elð, but no one speaks Elvish anymore besides the scholars) finds himself in Ponyville after he's seriously wounded by his own kind. He finds himself embroiled in the struggles of Equestria, alongside the Elements of Harmony, though always indirectly.

Warning: I will blatantly and unabashedly ignore canon if I think it'll make my story better. Feel free to point out any clashes, but don't expect me to fix them.

Permanently on hiatus because this is only a side project of mine, and I want that to be abundantly clear from the beginning.

Rated Teen because there will be mild descriptions of violence. For example:

[spoiler]Then my brother's body plummets past me, a gleaming sword through his chest. Blood follows in a trail of crimson droplets. As he passes me, our eyes meet. I reach out to him, but before I can catch him he plummets past. He hits the ground with a strange, muffled thump.[/spoiler]

(Taken from the prologue)

No romance, with or without OCs, unless it's explicitly stated as canon by ~S3. Probably not gonna be too dark, though the world is meant to echo Earth – not absolutely horrible, but not perfect either.

Any and all constructive criticism is welcomed – plot holes, missing tags, whatever. If you're rude, your comment will be deleted. If you're not, I'll try to keep in mind what you say, but I give no guarantees I'll remember.

While I don't particularly need an editor – this story isn't meant to help me get better, just to be a hobby, and my English is good enough – I certainly wouldn't mind having one. PM me if you're interested.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-04-17 21:12:56 UTC

Prologue

Barely three meters below, the Duke's army marches. I keep my eye on the gryphon himself. When he moves, I silently hop from tree to tree, keeping myself high off the ground without losing sight of him. Every so often my brother appears from nowhere to give me a break to sleep or eat or wash. Together, we leave a path of carefully-balanced twigs, oddly-placed pebbles, and every now and then a leaf sticking jauntily up, tracing a curved line from our home to the Duke, meandering to follow where he was.

Today, though, is different.

I stand as wind brushes my back, opposite the direction of breezes in the forest. I hop to the next branch, spinning around mid air and landing in a silent crouch.

Behind me stand seven armored warriors in mottled grey and green armor, blending in nearly perfectly with the sunlight but subtly wrong. After a moment, my brother drops silently beside me, grinning.

His hand flicks out in a series of gestures. I found help for us, Gold.

I grin back and reply, So I see.

The lead warrior gets my attention by tilting her sword until the sunlight catches the flat ruby in the pommel. I look at her.

We would rather avoid bloodshed, where possible, she signs.

I nod. We'll follow your lead, warrior.

She nods and starts flashing gestures to her team. They disperse quickly. She draws two short, leaf-shaped swords and leaps straight at me, one sword poised to skewer me in the throat as she slashes at my brother. I draw one axe from my belt, leap forward, and slam into her with the weight of a tiger, spinning to plant the axe in her chest before leaping off and pulling one axe into each hand. A pair of arrows fly straight at me, but I block them by holding the axes' heads in their path and letting the wood shatter on hard steel.

My brother, barely an instant slower than me, drops out of the way in time to avoid getting his ribs crushed by a powerful blow from a quarterstaff. He swings around a branch and shoots back into the air, drawing a dagger and slashing at the neck of the warrior who attacked him. The warrior dodges, leaping to another branch.

I hear the whistle of another pair of arrows and leap forward, straight at the back of the quarterstaff warrior. At the same time, my brother launches himself up into the trees. As I crash into my target, embedding an axe in his neck so deeply that his head is nearly severed by the blow. His body plummets to the ground as I land lightly on the branch, then scan the area.

With perfect timing, my brother drops the bodies of both archers to the ground. I chance a glance down to see that the gryphons have formed a wide circle around the bodies, staring in shock up into the trees.

Then my brother's body plummets past me, a gleaming sword through his chest. Blood follows in a trail of crimson droplets. As he passes me, our eyes meet. I reach out to him, but before I can catch him he plummets past. He hits the ground with a strange, muffled thump.

I stare with wide eyes, barely managing to slip out of the way when a swordsman drops down, trying to skewer me from above and behind. I swing at him, but the strike is weak and he blocks it easily. I see the blood on his armor and sword.

We exchange a few blows, each of mine faster and stronger than the one before, but he slides each aside easily. I roar in rage and, by subtly twisting my body as I strike, I force him to bring both blades up. The sheer power of the blow shatters the metal, but like any good sword he dodges back. By the time I can strike again, he has another pair of swords out and ready. My blow, however, leaves me overextended, and when he strikes, the silvery steel heads straight for my throat.

The gleam of sunlight off of steel brings back the image of my brother, falling, a sword through his chest. I pull my axes back up but I'm too slow to do more than nudge it slightly to the side.

Pity flashes across his face as he opens my throat, cutting open the vein, rather than piercing through the center.

I try to roar again, though it comes out as a hiss. I throw one axe at him. His eyes widen, but he can't dodge in time to avoid taking my axe to his chest. It knocks him off the branch, and I throw the other at him, which sends me into a wild spin. Before I can see if my second axe found its mark, I slam into the ground.

In front of me is my brother, eyes dead. I reach out weakly, ignoring the screaming pain in my shoulder and upper arm, and clutch at his shoulder.

The world goes dark.

Chapter 1

I wake up to bright lights, not the chilled grey of a hospital. I smells plants nearby: apples, lavender, cabbages, daisies, and rosemary, as well as a hint of something else I can't quite place. As my vision clears, I notice a fan spinning lazily overhead, with a slightly tinted light at the center. I try to stand, but the flood of pain brings me back to the bed with a stifled scream.

I feel the softness of the bed against my bare back and stiffen, noticing that my armor is gone. One of my hands twitches, a bare flicker of motion that echoes an oath. I try to sit up again, but again the pain forces me down before I can get off the bed. Despite my best efforts, a groan escapes my lips.

This time, a creature walks in. Its posture is like that of a gryphon, but beyond of that, the similarities end. The legs end in flat, broad stumps, rather than claws or paws, and it has a muzzle rather than a beak. The ears stick out as curved flaps of skin rather than tufts of feathers, and there's a horn protruding from roughly between them. Its whole body is the grey of ancient mountains, and its eyes are the light yellow of sunset.

I try to raise my arm to greet him, but it barely lifts an inch before falling back to the bed. The creature blinks in surprise, then mutters in Trader, "Quick healing. That's good."

I stare in shock for a moment, then mentally shrug and murmur, "Never treated elves?"

The doctor tilts his head. "Speak up, please." This time, his voice is nearly at a shout, and my eyes widen in surprise. Do these creatures not value silence?

Still, as he is the doctor, I do as he says and repeat, louder, "Never treated elves?"

He shakes his head. "The Medical Collegiate taught me how, but your kind isn't all that common on our side of the Everfree Forest." He scowls. "Wasn't, at least. There are a few more of you here nowadays, with the war and all."

I nod. "Point."

He sighs and shrugs, then says, "Well, in another two or three weeks you should be good to go, but you'll be walking with a cane or crutch for another couple months after that while you get back up to strength. Can I get you something to eat or drink?"

I frown. "Brightwater tea?"

The doctor shakes his head.

I sigh. "Coffee."

He nods and walks out, but he's only gone for a moment before returning with a steaming cup of coffee, held in a light grey-blue glow. His horn glows the same color. I abruptly recognize the species, mentally smacking myself for not realizing he was a pony until just now. Ignoring the distinctive body shape and horn, the warmth, the polite neutrality, the speaking should have tipped me off.

The doctor raises an eyebrow. "What're you blushing at?" he asks, quieter now. He sets the coffee on the table beside me, smiling faintly.

I instinctively try to move my hand, but the twinge of pain reminds me to stop. I sigh and say, "Forgetfulness."

The doctor nods, then slowly shifts the bed so I'm at more of an incline. He gently sets the coffee cup against my lips and tilts it back, letting me take a few sips before pulling it away. I shut my eyes and focus for a moment, pulling the energy the caffeine lends me into form and pushing it in the right way until the bed groans under my weight, then back the other way until the pressure on my back disappears for a second and my hair floats up around me. I drop the magic and let the energy flow where it's supposed to, then open my eyes, some slight energy leak heating me up. I make a mental note to fix it.

The doctor is staring at me in either shock or horror. I tilt my head. "What is it?" I ask.

His mouth abruptly shuts with an audible click. He shakes his head quickly and says, "That's gonna draw her." His face creases a little with effort, for just a moment.

My head tilts a little. "Who?" I ask, confused.

Or, more accurately, I try to ask. I've barely opened my mouth when there's a bright flash of light and another unicorn appears, this one a mare.

"What was that?!" she asks the doctor, not noticing -- or not caring about -- me.

The doctor nods towards me with his head, and the unicorn follows his gaze to me.

By the time she can get a good look at me, though, my eyes are shut and my breathing is slow, as it would be in sleep. My heart continues its slow, sedate pace, only barely stirred by the surprise of the teleportation.

The unicorn groans and a cluster of hoofsteps tells me that she's turned around to face the doctor.

"That thing is asleep, doctor," she says, clearly annoyed."Besides, it's not a Sentient. There's no way it's the source of a magical aberration."

I hear the doctor snort quietly in amusement. "Sure, Twilight," he replies, his voice a quiet murmur. "After all, nothing in a book could possibly be wrong."

I crack open an eye to see Twilight scowling at him, then shaking her head. "Whatever. When it wakes up, bring it to the library. I want to examine it."

The doc shrugs. "If he agrees."

Twilight raises an eyebrow, then turns and departs without another word.

The instant she's out of earshot, I quit pretending to sleep and open both eyes fully. I give the doc an inquisitive look.

"That," he says quietly, "was Twilight Sparkle, resident Canterlot snowflake."

I smile faintly. "New?"

Doc nods. "Very. She got here about a day ago. Want some more coffee?"

I nod faintly, and he brings the cup to my lips again. This time, the coffee is cooler, and he lets me take a bigger sip from the cup. I close my eyes and use a tiny portion of the energy to build a seal. Another tiny bit goes to a quick scan of my body, cataloguing exactly what's wrong.

With a considerable effort of will, I pull the energy into two pieces and redirect it to the parts of my body that need it most. My broken shoulder begins to mend faster, as does my broken knee and leg.

I frown as I realize that there's almost no damage to my internal organs, ribcage, or skull, despite my fall. My throat is mostly fixes as well. Impressive healing, even for a trained doctor.

I look the doc in the eyes and murmur, "You are skilled. What is your name?"

He gives me a short grin. His eyes flash from normal to all yellow, with red irises and white pupils. He winks at me. "That," he murmurs, his voice much deeper than before, "would be telling."

An instant later, he's back to normal, acting as though nothing happened. I give him an odd look, then dismiss it and say, "Will you take me to Twilight?"

He blinks at me, scowling. "Whyever would you want to talk to her? Besides, I can't. You still aren't healed."

I grin a little at him. "She is interesting." I twitch a hand in an abortive attempt to gesture at the hospital. "This… isn't."

He gives me a flat stare. "It's a hospital. What did you expect? A fair?"

I grin wider. "In elf hospitals, people fight for their lives. Here, they wait to be healed."

The doctor snorts. "Your people have a very different sense of honor."

Abruptly, my shoulder clicks as the repaired ball fits into what's left of the socket, which begins to piece itself back together.

The doctor stares for a moment, then laughs, shaking his head. "Very quick healing. You'll probably be out of here in a couple days if you can keep that up. Still probably gonna be on crutches for two weeks at least, but you won't be trapped in this--" He grins a little "--boring old hospital."

I snort in amusement. "Anywhere but here, doctor."

Then my hip explodes into agony and I black out again.