Rays of early morning sunlight broke through the light and gauzy curtains to the waking figure under soft sheets. As he left the bed empty, the sunlight caught upon his hair as the fresh breeze drew him to the window. Pushing aside the curtain, Legolas breathed deep the late summer scents and allowed him mind to wander back over past times.
His own realm had been established in the beauty of Ithilien, and he was counted a hero among many companions: it seemed he had come a long way since setting from home those summers ago. Memories then suddenly stopped smiles. Strange feelings of regret and loss assaulted him as they often did at the memory of a certain face. Neldorë.
The passing of time had changed nothing of what the name set in his mine. Yet… was it really so long ago? Some things he would never forget. Even the briefest moments such as when the leaves had started to fall upon a farewell. Legolas moved away from the window, setting himself upon the edge of the bed. The room was light, though not as brightly so as on a day so long passed:
It was not the sunshine that creased her brow as she glanced up. Though her eyes were sad, dimmed not just by the trees shadows. Her came to her, as she knew he would. Then as she went to merely touch her hand to his in acknowledgment, he pulled away, as she knew he would. There was barely a small smile between them, as tentative as the autumn breeze.
"So you mean to go." A flatness was in his tone.
"As do you," she replied, her eyes down to the leafy ground.
"You know that I must. We have lost our prisoner, Lord Elrond must be told."
Did she need more reminders of accepting and the truth? "I understand, I just wish that this did not have to be our parting…" her voice trailed off.
"You have left little choice," came the reply, almost too sharp.
Hurt, then a revelation that perhaps some feeling must have prompted the cold tone caused Neldorë to lower her head. "There will be nothing here for me," she replied, hoping that he would realise, would understand the depths of her words and would say what she wished him to say. Yet silence met her pleas and the ground began to blur as tears were forming. Dashing them away she looked up to him, his beloved face. "I wish you a long and full life upon these shores. I say only this: my mind will oft be upon you. If you should think of me, remember when you leave for white shores." Turning swiftly, she hurried from him, determined not to take an longing glance and missing the hand outstretched after her.