The waves of the early morning crashed to the sand, the water breaking against the ground and stealing what little warmth Legolas' already sodden-shoes provided his cold feet. He didn't care, though, as he had been there for some time already, and had come there the day before, and the day before that, leaving only when the sun disappeared behind him.

Legolas stood patiently there every day, gazing out to the east from the land he had come. Each morning the sun would rise and he would watch it, and it would set to his back while he waited. Each day he hoped to see white sails on the eastern horizon, but he did not really expect them, yet he was a dutiful son and so he waited and waited.

On many occasions Silvan Elves from his father's kingdom would sail up, and he would greet them, hoping his father was with them even while knowing he was not, and so Legolas still waited and waited after greeting his kinsmen.

And yet still the others suspected that he waited there not for his father, but because he mourned for the loss of his old Dwarven friend, who lived so long for a mortal, yet eventually succumbed to Ilúvatar's gift to all but Elves, so it was not surprising when the quiet voice of Celeborn behind him said, 'It does not do you well to grieve…'

'I come not to grieve, but to wait.' Legolas answered, tossing the words carelessly over his shoulder without turning around.

After a moment of pondering the prince's puzzling reply, Celeborn realized the true reason the prince returned to tarry on the shore long day after long day, and commented, 'Then you wait in vain, he will not come by sea, but by the Halls…'

Legolas could think of no words to this, he knew well of his father's stubbornness and that what the Lord or Lórien had said had elements of truth, and so he remained silent, and continued to stare mournfully into the distance.

After more than a few moments of silence had come to pass, Celeborn glanced almost worriedly at his kinsman, noting the prince's ghostly composition under the soft golden glow the rising sun lent his pale skin. Celeborn chose not to say anything, and looked back out to the sea, allowing the silence to stretch on, wondering just what words he could use…

Soon the cool wind picked up and whipped the younger Elf's golden hair around so that it fell in tangled clumps around his face, damp and salty from the spray of the sea. Feeling the cold water dripping from his hair smelling of ocean and fish, Legolas' heart ached, torn by the two halves of the world, yearning for his home in the East and the desire for the tranquility of the West.

The East had been his home, Mirkwood had been his home. Valinor was not as such, it lacked his closest kin and the forests, the very trees and soil that made the old forest his. The cries of the rising gulls reminded him of why he had come West, of what he had left behind.

It made him want to go back, but Legolas knew he could not, and so when he spoke, at last breaking the silence, it was in a in a resolute and determined voice that he said, 'he will come. Ada will come…'

'But you must, Ada, you can't remain here!'

'Legolas, you say our time is ending, yet it is only the Noldor whose time is ending.'

'Nay! 'Tis the end for all of our people, we all must go West. Sindar, Silvan, Noldor, all of us alike must leave.'

'These are lies, Legolas; the Men cannot take this land. They scare the Noldor with threats of becoming the new Kings of all the world, but they never will become as such.'

Legolas clenched his fist tightly and forced himself not to raise his voice at his father. He had traveled from Ithilien to see his father, and to tell of his plans to journey West, to the Undying Lands, as all Elves must.

'The time of the edain has come, Ada, the others are not trying to trick us and take the land. We must leave, as I will do soon.' Legolas said.

Thranduil waved his son's words aside and said, 'Legolas, you go off to find your own kingdom in Ithilien without so much as a good bye, and now you visit me, only to say you are leaving and never returning? This is not how a prince behaves.'

'That is because it is the time to leave. These woods can no longer be ours, the West calls us home!' Legolas cried, aware of the tug of the sea that he had felt since the fated day on the corsair when Galadriel's words became true.

'Perhaps that is how you feel, but 'these woods' make up my kingdom, my home, the home which is yours and home to all the Elves who reside here. We cannot simply uproot ourselves and leave. The ocean is not ours; we were not made for the water, lest it is to be our grave upon our crossing!' said Thranduil, attempting to sway his son from the notion of sailing.

'We will not die, the Valar would ensure us a safe crossing! Lord Elrond, he said –'

'Lord Elrond is a Noldo, they are a sea-faring folk, we are of people of the trees. Our kind did not go West, Legolas, in the beginning. Our kin chose to remain here, and so shall we, unto the breaking of the world!' Thranduil spoke vehemently.

'Yet that we cannot do, even should it be your desire! The Men are come, and so is their time. Our land must be given to them, and we must seek the West and its promises of peace. Is that not why Oropher settled here, first? To avoid the conflicts and pain of war?' Legolas challenged.

'And what would you know of war?' Thranduil dared to ask.

'The sorrows and hatred of it, the evil and mischief that it creates, these things I have seen, Ada, but those tales are for another day. Along my journey I saw the Elves of the other realms fading, of our kinsmen to the south leaving, and I heard the rumours of the Elves in Lord Elrond's house.' Legolas answered quietly, 'the Havens await us, and hope of a future here escapes us.'

'Nay, this is our time to reclaim the world sundered by the Noldor, to regrow all destroyed by them and to heal the wounds of old, to make this world ours once more.' Thranduil replied confidently.

'The Elder Days are over; the old kingdoms are no more. We are the last of our people, and soon we, too, shall fade, grow weary of the world and old and grey, but by then the West will be closed against us.' Legolas nearly whispered.

'It will never be closed against us, even should we choose not to take the sea route.' Thranduil said.

'What do you mean?' Legolas demanded, dreading the answer he knew he would receive from his father.

'That I shall not leave my kingdom, as a king never should, unless killed in battle, and only that way will I find my path West.'

'Then you are a fool!' Legolas exclaimed. He turned sharply on his heel and walked swiftly to the door. He grabbed the handle, paused for a moment, then spun around and marched back over to his father. Stopping just a few steps from the King of Mirkwood, Legolas held up his finger and declared, 'I am sailing West, with or without you, father, and all I may hope is that I set a firm example for the rest of our people to not tarry in this forsaken world.'

Without another word, Legolas spun back around and made his way to the door, intending to take his leave. Yet when he reached the old oaken door, he found himself unsure if he really wanted to walk away.

So there he stood, paused with his hand on the cold metal door handle from the years of his youth for the second time that day, and for the last time for eternity. He could feel the engravings so familiar in his hand, could almost relive the memories from years past spent in that very room…

'"The green leaf fades to red and withers, then to brown and breaks, it is become dust now, blown by the wind to the sea and the West, where sing the gulls, away from the leaf's forest home, and thus ends the tale beyond the world, where the green leaf now lays for ever at rest."

'Is that to be you, Legolas? Will you be that green leaf who falls from the tree ere its time when the summer has passed into fall and then into winter?' Thranduil pondered softly as he gently removed one the leaves from his crown.

Legolas turned slightly, so he could look back at his father. He looked at the green leaf lying in Thranduil's hand, still as lush and perfect as the day it was plucked from its tree.

In a voice that shook with heartbreak and not fear, Legolas replied, 'I am the green leaf, Ada, who will be the first to fall from the tree, because the summer of the Elves is over. The fall has come, and soon it will pass, and when winter arrives, those who remain will be torn mercilessly away by the same wind that so carefully delivers me to the West.'

Gripping the door handle tighter, Legolas closed his eyes, and willed himself to leave; feeling torn and longing to remain where his home was, yet also the need grasp the opportunity for salvation and peace. Taking a deep breath, Legolas pulled open the door, and without another word, took leave of his father, his king, and proceeded out the door.

Thranduil tilted his hand slightly as the door shut behind his son, and watched the green leaf float to the ground, turning to red and then to brown before hitting the ground, where it broke into dust, and remained until he, too, opened the door and exited the room, allowing the wind to enter and blow the fragmented remains away.

Yet Legolas did not care for his father's actions after he left, but pushed himself as far as he could from the Sindarin world, until he could walk no further and had to rest. Though it was not for exhaustion of his limbs that he needed the support of the tree to hold himself up, but that the pain and heartache stole the air from his lungs and strength of his spirit.

Finally after several moments that seemed longer than they were, Legolas pulled himself from where he lent against the dying tree, and began to walk. And as he walked, the fallen, moldy leaves crunched softly beneath his feet as he gazed down the gold-and-red forest path that wound before him, the woodland scent of his home all around, and forcing himself to take the Western road regretfully, and without looking back, he walked away from all that he had known.

Soon the music could be heard afar off, as for the Avari the Vanyar sang of dream-like fields and the old trees, lamenting of the light lost to the world, sweet and sorrowful they played for their guests, and wove into their sad tale hope for a new dawn amid the desolate ruins of the withered, blackened remains.

Legolas listened politely to the bits of the songs he could catch in the wind, and waited there loyally on the chilly shore for his father to come, yet all the while knowing he would not. Celeborn sought to tell him something of comfort, but found no words and merely stood there with his kinsman, unsure of what to do.

But Legolas ignored him and waited unyielding, and when the day had finished, he slept then returned the next morning, still hoping to see the sails of the ships bearing the remainder of his people on the horizon, yet all the while knowing he would not…

A/N:: Pshah, King Thranduil, you stubborn, stubborn Elf! D=
Thought of the Day: I have a cat. And he is fuzzy.
Uhh, anyway. Disclaimer:: I Do Not Own the Lord Of The Rings or anything therein. It all belongs to Tolkien! (and thank goodness for that.)
Poor Legolas, man, I definitely feel bad for him. I think that all the promise of the West would be great and all, but it'd get boring after a little while. Legolas probably would have been more comfortable in the East, but nooo, he had to go West.
Hahaha, random Elvish. WHAT? :: Ada = Father :: (okay, fine, so people don't randomly use other languages for just one word in a sentence, but I have a fondness for the term 'ada'. I'm attatched to it. Mmkay? Mmkay.)
Right! So! I have some things to explain...

1) So the whole thing on Gimli dying, YUH THAT'S TOTALLY HOW IT GOES. See, even if he, Frodo, Sam, and Bilbo go to Valinor, they're still mortal, which means that they will eventually forfiet their lives willingly. Valinor is called the Undying Lands not because the lands themselves lend magic to make the inhabitants immortal, but rather because the inhabitants themselves are already immortal and they just happen to live there.
---therefore any mortal allowed to live in Valinor will eventually succumb to death, especially because in Tolkien's world death is a gift and none, not even the Valar, may take away Ilúvatar's gift. (also, Tolkien states this in one of his letters to his son.)

2) Mmmm, I suppose Legolas wouldn't be the FIRST of the Mirkwood Elves to foresake Middle Earth in favour of the West, but I am of the opinion that because the Silvan and Sindarin Elves didn't leave Middle Earth the FIRST time arround, probably not too many of them would willingly leave until someone from the upper classes, such as a Prince or even their King, were to leave first, meaning that Legolas would be the first NOTEABLE Elf to leave of the Mirkwood host which would lead to more of the other Silvan and Sindarin of his realm to begin leaving.
---- of course, Legolas also probably wasn't the LAST Elf to leave Middle Earth EVER, but he was probably ONE of the last because Mirkwood and the rest of LothLórien would probably be the last remaining Elven kingdoms in Middle Earth until finally the call of the West was just too much to bear or that they were killed or driven off by Men or their upper classes told them to go. the Elves of Lórien probably would have left before the Elves of Mirkwood because Galadriel and Celeborn left long before Legolas.
~~~~Then again, that's just my opinion. Take from it what you will.

3) I know, I know. Leaves don't change colour so fast as the one that Thranduil dropped did, but the point of it was that it was the Greenleaf's story and also ELVEN MAGIC, FTW! I mean, the leaf was probably plucked long before it died, and Thranduil worked some magic on it to preserve it, and when he let it go it died rapidly becauseofawesomeplotholes.

That is all!
(Reviews [and hard critque] are rockin' awesome.)