Disclaimer: I do not own any of this. I am making no money from this story. All recognizable events, places, scenarios, concepts, items, and characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and possibly New Line Cinema.
A/N: Inspired by my bedroom ceiling, which strongly resembles the mountainside, and the color of my cat's eyes [aka the moon], who kindly kept me company when I jumped up halfway through spoiling and flattering him in order to find a notebook and pencil. ;)
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Holes and ice riddled the craggy mountainside, as marred with craters as the moon, under whose light two figures lay, illuminated in her silvery rays.
One could not have produced such a glow if given a thousand years to try. The other's natural luminescence had long since faded, stolen by the ruthless grasp of death. One was white as the snow upon the mountain, consumed with grief and shivering with gelidity. The other's face was as cold and pale as she who rested above in the dark winter sky. One's hands grasped those of the dead in desperate denial, silver irises paling further in sorrow. The other's fingers were stiff with dying rigor, nails transparent in the ethereal glow of the moon. One's chest was tight with loss, heart choked in emotion. The other's chest had been ravaged by a single, agonizing arrow wound, veins emptied of the blood that now soaked into the snow around them. One's pupils were dialated with shock and a fast weakening spirit. The other's eyes were blank and blind, never to see again. One was dying. The other was already dead.
Both were cold, and both were empty. One had lived less than a century. The other, three milennia. Both were lost. One had seen far too much of the world. The other had seen far too little.
Both were reunited by the light of the moon.
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A/N: Please read and review, I'd really like some opinions on this, because it's different than anything else I've written.