A/N: I don't own any of these, well exept Minaswen.
From Mirkwood with love
It was the night before the last battle, the oldest son of Lord Elrond – Lord Elladan – stood for himself in the white city and gazed out over the landscape, he looked neither east to wards Mordor, nor west to wards his home or the sea, but north, where he knew the great forest of Mirkwood lay. He looked once again down on the letter in his hand, on the graceful elven letters. He had got it long before, in Rivendell, before the war of the ring. He started reading it, for at least the hundred time.
Dear Elladan. It started
I hope that when you read this my brother has safety arrived in Rivendell, even thou my father have told me not to believe in miracles. Elladan smiled, but it was true, Legolas did arrive more often wounded then safety to the house of Elrond.
I'm sorry that I was unable to join my brother on his journey to the Imladris, but father has forbidden me to travel since the darkness of our home is rising, and my duty lies here, with my people. Both you and I know that war is coming, and I pray to the valar that we will be able to meet again when this is over. Know that if I lose you, I will not be able to dwell on this shores any longer, my undying love for you is too great. I hope you know my love and thought are always with you where ever you go, and that I will await you when you return. Le melon, meleth nin, I love you, my beloved.
No in elenath hîlar nan hâd gîn, may all stars shine upon you.
Minaswen
Elladan smiled and put away the letter in his jacket. Yes, they would meet again, he would return. And with new hope, he turned away and walked quietly into the night.
The end.