Oh dear one, how you weep. Little do you know I watch over you, little do you know I'm still here. You smile for them, dearest one of my heart, and yet I know the pain festering in your soul. It is a wonder why you have not faded, they rejoice that you are still amongst the living.

And yet I know you won't be amongst them for long.

Dearest Legolas, is it such a crime to wish you could join me soonest? Is it such a selfish motive to want you near once more? I love you Legolas, although I regret deeply that I fell in Helmsdeep and caused you so much pain. I weep with you, dearest, though I have no form.

Lord Namo granted me this one boon, told me you were not long for this world and bid me to watch over you and guide you to Mandos when you cross over. I am glad, my heart, that I am allowed to see you before my judgement, and that I shall cross into Mandos with you.

You sit in the council chambers, that boisterous kind hearted dwarf beside you. King Elessar argues with his advisors, the lovely Lady Arwen offering support at his side. Everyone speaks, dear one, save you. I think you know it is time, that you must go.

Slowly, ever so slowly, you stand up, your sweet face twisted as though you carry the burden of the world upon your shoulders. My heart aches for you, Legolas, I never wished to cause you pain. Estel, dear sweet compassionate Estel, seems to sense something is wrong and he swiftly silences his companions. All goes quiet. Arwen pales, she knows.

"Legolas?" Aragorn asks you, "Do you wish to say something?"

"I-", You begin but never finish, the words dying on your lips as your broken soul lifts and your last breath hisses from your lungs. You crumple to the floor, oh so fast, too fast for any to catch you. There is pandemonium, everyone erupting from their seats but the world darkens and I see nothing more.

Nothing more except you standing across from me, merry and smiling and oh so you.

I smile and extend my hand.

And with a shout of joy you take it

Many years later and many leagues away in the forests of Ithilien, a fair country ruled by Faramir and his wife Eowyn, a young Elf, a youth barely of age if one is to tell the truth, rode towards the halls that housed the steward of Gondor. His long auburn hair was bound in a single, tight braid of the type archers of Eryn Lasgalan wore, although a strange talisman- a golden ring strangely similar to a binging ring- was interwoven in his locks.

He suddenly halted, a mild and patient expression crossing his features as he heard the tell tale sounds that heralded another Elf's approach.

Soon said elf appeared from the trees, seemingly the same age as the other although that is where the similarities ended. This elf had hair the colour of whitened gold and wore it loose like the warriors of Lorien were want to do.

"Mae govvanon", he called.

"Mae govvanon", said the other as he dismounted and fell into step with the other elf, "You must be Domelen, they told me you would be waiting somewhere along this stretch of road for me".

"And you are obviously Laiqualassë, have you brought the papers needed for this diplomatic mission thingy?"

Laiqualassë grinned and held out his hand. "Obviously else I wouldn't be much use in this mission. Now why don't we shake hands and be on our way? Oh, and I prefer being called 'Las, tis a much easier name to say"

Domelen laughed, "Your a polite one aren't you?" he said teasingly. But nonetheless he did as he was told.

"My Nanneth raised me right", Laiqualassë retorted and then paused, a puzzled frown crossing his features, "Have we met before? You seem oddly familiar".

Domelen looked confused also. "I am not sure for you seem familiar also".

"How strange".

The end