Warning: contains two (perhaps three?) drabbles with character death, one of which doesn't fit into my usual 'verse. Just because I wanted to depress myself. Also the last prompt was too perfect not to use like that.

Well! This is the last collection of drabbles – I hope you enjoyed all 100 of them, and that you won't miss them too much!

#10 – Earth

"What in Arda is that all about?" Erestor asked, looking out the window of the library.

Across the well-kept lawn, Lord Elrond's twin sons had spades in their hands, digging in the soft dirt beside an overhanging tree. A young Arwen stood beside them, a cloth bag clutched in one hand and her face streaked with tears.

Glorfindel, who for some odd reason was visiting the library just then, stepped up beside Erestor and peered out the window as well. "Ah," he said with a small smile. "Arwen's pet lizard has died, and she's heartbroken, so her brothers are kindly burying it for her."

"Oh," Erestor said. He grumbled something under his breath, then turned and clasped his hands behind his back. "Well, come on then," he said, heading for the door.

"What are we doing?" asked Glorfindel, pulling away from the sad scene at the window.

"Going to either join the funeral, or find her a new pet, of course," the adviser said.

Glorfindel laughed and followed.

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#12 – Betrayal

Elrond cleared his throat and looked around the group of collected adviser, councilors, captains, and just a few diplomats from the other elven realms. "Well, thank you all for your contribution. Is there anything else we need to add to this?" When no one said anything, he nodded. "Excellent, shall we move on to the weapons inventory and ordering?"

They all nodded their assent, and Elrond turned to Erestor. "May I have the report, please?"

Erestor's head jerked up and he blinked like a startled deer. "Excuse me?"

"The weapons inventory…" Elrond repeated slowly. The others sitting began sorting their own reports and preparing for the next part of the meeting.

"Ah…yes. That." Erestor straightened and swiped at his eyes, once, then began shuffling through the pile of papers in front of him. He scanned them quickly, and his movements became more frantic as he didn't find what he was looking for. After a bit longer of searching, his shoulders slumped wearily and his face fell into a frown. "I…must not have brought it, my lord," he said somewhat weakly.

Glorfindel, half-asleep the whole time, came to full awareness as he realized what they were talking about. "Oh!" he said loudly, attracting the attention of everyone that had been staring at Erestor, shocked at his forgetfulness. "It slipped my mind; my apologies. I borrowed that this morning to check it again and it must be still in my office." He offered a bow, terribly formed from his sitting position. "I can bring it next week, no worries." With that, he slid down in his seat again and his eyes glazed over.

It finally sunk into Elrond's brain, and he nodded. "Oh, yes, I see. Thank you, we'll just go to the next part then. Galdor, will you present that message from Lord Círdan?"

Erestor would have given Glorfindel a relieved look at the unexpected, entirely untrue, yet welcome interruption, but the Balrog-slayer had already surreptitiously fallen asleep again.

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#22 – New Race

Elladan and Elrohir were lounging in the grass beside a tall willow tree, both in a similar pose of long legs stretched out before them, arms propping their heads up, and staring absent-mindedly at the passing clouds overhead. They were both easily reminded of when they had done this before, in times long gone by, where a silver-eyed laughing lady would lie next to them and point at the sky with them, making up names for each oddly-shaped piece of fluff.

Elrohir eventually broke the silence, his voice low. "Look, there's a rabbit," he said, and a grin tugged at Elladan's lips.

"A horse and its rider," the elder twin suggested, readjusting his position to gesture at a cloud that continually changed shape. "It's galloping across the sky."

Elrohir squinted up at another cloud just floating past the gleaming sun. "What about that one?"

"Hmm." Elladan thought for a long moment. "That must be some kind of new race. A mix between an elf and a dwarf, perhaps?"

Elrohir coughed, and they had a good laugh about that mental image. After a few more chuckles, they fell into silence once more and pondered the memories that danced through their minds. Both startled when a widely smiling face came into view just above their heads, blocking out the view of the sky.

"Having fun without me?" Arwen teased.

"Of course not," Elladan said in mock horror, but he scooted a little further from Elrohir and patted the space between them. "Join us?"

Arwen nodded and settled herself between them, grinning. "What are we doing?"

Elrohir and Elladan exchanged reminiscent looks before moving closer, sandwiching her between them. They both smiled and one lifted her hand to point it at the clouds. "We're making names for the clouds," they said. "What does that one look like?"

"A dead bird!" she exclaimed, seeing the image immediately. "No wait – it's Ada!"

Her brothers choked.

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#44 – Wounds

"Ow!" whined Elladan, yanking his arm away. His twin gave him an exasperated look.

"Would you stop moving?"

"But it hurts," Elladan whimpered, trying to elicit a little sympathy. It didn't work; Elrohir just rolled his eyes and dabbed the wound with a damp cloth again.

"You broke your arm last year in sparring and you were all tough and 'this doesn't hurt, it's just a scratch,'" Elrohir remonstrated. "But now you actually get a scratch, and you're acting like you got a limb chopped off."

Elladan pouted. "I wish Ada could help me instead, he's much nicer."

"He would have said the same thing." Elrohir wound a small bandage around the already-healing wound and then patted it. Elladan winced pathetically. "And anyway, he's busy with Glorfindel."

Elladan beamed. "Oh, yes, that reminds me. Did you see me fighting Glorfindel? I was amazing, wasn't I?"

Elrohir gazed at him, unaffected. "Yes, you lost. You also tackled him, which is not the best idea when one has a sword."

"But at least I disarmed him!"

"You broke two of his ribs, you mean." Elrohir smacked his brother's midsection. "You've been eating too much, you chunky thing, you."

Elladan growled at him, but Elrohir just laughed.

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#57 – Anyone Of Us

"Lord Elrond." Erestor's voice was ice, and when Elrond looked over at him, the adviser's eyes were half-lidded and very unamused.

"Mm?" said Elrond, rolling up the parchment he had been perusing and placing it to the side.

Erestor held up a piece of paper. "This, my lord, is a letter sent from King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm. It is about…your sons, and their conduct on the diplomatic mission that you decided to send them on."

"Oh, I see." Elrond reached for the letter and Erestor dropped it into his hands with an air of distaste. Scanning the contents of the sheet, Elrond's face slowly paled.

"They did what?!" the Lord of Imladris finally squeaked when he had finished. The letter fell from his hands as if it had burned him.

"Exactly my thoughts," Erestor remarked wryly, his annoyance abated somewhat at the hilariously horrified expression on Elrond's face.

Elrond buried his head in his hands and groaned. "I am never going to be able to look Thranduil in the eyes again. What am I going to do with my sons?"

"Oh, I'm sure you won't have to worry about them," Erestor remarked. "Anyone of us here will deal with them for you. I have an idea that includes the sewage system and a whole warehouse that needs inventoried. Choose the punishment and I shall make sure they execute it."

"I'm going to die of embarrassment," Elrond moaned. "Why did I ever decide to have sons? A girl would be much more obedient!"

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#58 – Friends Forever

Glorfindel's breath rattled in his lungs, and he blinked desperately to clear the fuzziness from his vision. A panicked face came into view, ebony hair falling over dark robes, and he could faintly feel someone frantically grasping his hand.

"Glorfindel! Glorfindel, don't fall asleep!" There was a sob, and Glorfindel recognized the choked voice. He tried to smile, but the agony shaking his whole body turned it into a grimace. Instead, he turned his pain-filled eyes to dark ones that were brimming with shocked tears, and forced his fingers to squeeze the hand that held his urgently.

"Don't cry," he managed to force out, letting out a small gasp when another wave of pain assaulted his senses, but he attempted to smile again. "You never cry."

The person vanished for a moment, then reappeared, his face looking like it was about to collapse. "And you can't die…not again," he whispered fiercely, his face swimming in Glorfindel's vision. "You're my only real friend – you can't die!"

"Sorry," Glorfindel gasped, feeling as though he should apologize for the darkness that was creeping into his sight and the terribly familiar splitting of his soul and body. He pulled on the other's hand, drawing his attention back. "We'll still be friends…I'll see you again – in Valinor, yes?"

The person bent over him pressed a hand to his own mouth, nodding. "Friends forever, Glorfindel." As if he was trying to reassure himself.

Glorfindel smiled then, his face dirtied, pale, and strained with pain, but he smiled nonetheless. He caught the dark eyes above him again, then he relaxed, his last breath in Middle Earth escaping into the frigid air. His hand slipped from the grasp and fell limply to his bloodied chest, and there was a shriek from the sky overhead as a Great Eagle once again witnessed the death of the golden lord.

The person above him bent over the lifeless body and cried, tears falling from his eyes to mix with the blood seeping from numerous wounds on Glorfindel's torso.

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#76 – Harbor

Celebrían, twining silver ribbons into her long blonde hair, ducked out of the bathing chambers and into her room. Her eyes twinkled with mirth when she caught sight of her husband, fully dressed and standing in the middle of the room. He had a pair of unlaced boots in his hand and was looking around the room in bewilderment.

"What's wrong, Elrond?" Celebrían asked, tying off the last of the ribbons and padding toward him.

Elrond huffed in frustration and turned, his gaze searching the room. "I can't find one pair of stockings here! There's a few that don't have any mates, but most are gone. I had them all yesterday – this doesn't make any sense!"

"Ah." Celebrían couldn't help but chuckle. "Yes, I was wondering why your socks were in Elladan and Elrohir's room. They rescued them from here last night, apparently, and are harboring them under their bed."

Elrond snorted with laughter. "They're hoarding my stockings? Well, that's new."

"You can borrow mine," Celebrían suggested with a mischievous smile, tugging the boots out of his hands and setting them on the nearby bed.

Elrond raised his infamous eyebrow. "I don't think so – I'll just go without today." He seated himself on the bedcovers and began pulling his boots on.

"Well, I'm already done," Celebrían said, heading toward the door and blowing him a kiss right before she left the room. "I'm going to go make sure the boys are ready, and that they aren't terrorizing their poor nurse."

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#77 – Halfway

Glorfindel, walking inside his room, paused briefly at the desk that he would use to carve statues from memory. His gaze caught on the large chunk of partially completed wood sitting on the end of a shelf, its only completed features glaring fiercely at him and part of a fiery sword extended. He sighed and ran his fingers over the unfinished part, flinching at the memories of fire pain shadows that assaulted him, and tugged his hand away.

Turning his attention away from the carving, he glanced over the rest of the room and the few dirty areas – the corners where he tossed his clothes in the general direction of the laundry hamper, the assorted rusted weapons he had collected and piled in heaps near the window, and more than a few chests full of various gifts he had received over the years.

His attention skipped over it, used to it all, and he instead went into his bedchambers. He examined his large bed for a long moment, then in a moment of unsurprising immaturity, leaped into the air and bounced across the bed. He landed on his stomach, laughing quietly, and let the blankets settle around him. His head had ended up directly beside the edge of the bed, and he rested his chin on the corner as he trailed his hand over the side, his golden hair tumbled all around him.

Pondering different things, his mind slowly wandered into what mortals would call sleep, and his blue eyes glazed over, staring unseeingly at the yellow-painted wall across from him.

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#81 – Far-Fetched

Glorfindel bounded happily down the hall, his golden hair flying behind him. He saw the door to Erestor's office ahead and he went right to it, throwing it open with his usual excitement. "Erestor!" he exclaimed – and then stopped. His jaw dropped open in shock and he stared.

"E – Erestor?"

The dark-haired adviser broke off the kiss he had been involved in and turned to look at Glorfindel. "What?" A delicate-faced silver-haired elleth peeked over his shoulder, and upon seeing Glorfindel, offered him a sweet smile.

"What – what? You aren't married!" Glorfindel stammered, seriously thinking he had just lost his mind.

Erestor looked offended. "Of course I am! How could you forget my lovely wife and our children?" He gestured at the other door to his office, and two tiny heads peeked through, one with dark hair like Erestor's, and the other fair-headed.

"What?" Glorfindel squeaked. He had missed his friend's wedding?

"Oh dear," said the strange elf-woman who was apparently Erestor's wife. She gave Glorfindel a worried look. "Are you well? You look…pale."

"Gck," Glorfindel managed, then fainted.

Glorfindel sat up in bed, his eyes wide and glazed. He uttered a short scream, then leaped from his bed and ran out of his room. Dashing toward Erestor's office, he made it there and flung the door open, breath caught.

Erestor turned and gave him an annoyed look. "What, Glorfindel?"

Glorfindel looked around the room frantically. "Where is she? How did I miss the wedding? Where are the children?"

Erestor blinked. He took a cautious step back and peered at Glorfindel with concern. "Excuse me? What are you talking about?"

"Your wife!" Glorfindel exclaimed.

Erestor choked. "What? I don't have a wife!"

"Yes, you do!" Glorfindel looked around the room again and noted the bare walls, the neatly organized bookshelves, and the immaculate desk that Erestor was standing before. He closed his eyes and shook his head, then opened them again once more. "Are you sure you aren't married?"

Erestor was regarding him strangely. He edged slowly around the desk and surreptitiously slipped a heavy paperweight into his hand. "Yes…" the adviser said slowly. "I am not married."

"Oh." Glorfindel scratched his head and turned to walk out the door, muttering something about 'missing a wedding celebration and good wine.'

As soon as he was gone, Erestor dashed over to the door and immediately locked it.

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#100 – Beyond the Circles of the World

In the dying forests of Lóthlorien, beneath the fading trees and silver leaves, two dark figures knelt beside a female, whose face was pale and eyes glimmering with tears and the light of stars.

"Please…" Elrohir's voice was broken as he lifted a trembling hand to his lips. "Please, my sister…" He could not finish, his voice choked with sobs. Elladan, beside him, was bent over her form, tears trailing down his cheeks as he silently supported her head.

"My brothers," said Arwen with a gentle, tired smile. "I have lived well, and loved well. Mourn me not, please." She sighed, softly as the wind that whispered past their dark hair. "I cannot bear the thought that you would see me such. If you still hold my love, leave me and let me die in peace."

Elrohir wept quietly at her words, and Elladan placed her head carefully and smoothly onto the soft ground. They both pressed tearful kisses to her brow, where once had rested a silver crown that matched her husband's, and then they stood. Before vanishing into the forest, they turned back to look at her, and she lifted a weak hand, looking tiny and fragile among the trees.

"I would not have this to be the last memory you had of me," she whispered softly. "But as it is, fare thee well. Tell Ada and Nana that I have never regretted my choice."

Her older brothers nodded, not trusting themselves to speak, and they turned to disappear among the branches. Arwen lay her head back and let her gaze drift to the moonlight dancing on silver leaves. A peace overcame her, washing away all grief and sorrow, and she felt a boundless joy fill her as she felt her soul fall asunder forever and fly from her body. A great light washed over her and she heard something that seemed like her beloved's voice. With a cry of delight, she moved forward and vanished in a spectacular dance of colors.

Not far away from her lifeless body, two identical elves fell to their knees and cried aloud as they felt their sister vanish beyond the circles of the world.

She was truly gone now.

I'm sorry. Please don't slay me.