DISCLAIMER: I do not own Legolas, Tauriel, Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any of that goodly stuff. I have no association or claims to the franchises and people that have produced the movies, or the Tolkien family. This is a work of fanfiction, no profit is being made, and it is for entertainment purposes only.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I adapted this from an old story of mine, that when I re-read it seemed to fit the Legolas/Tauriel thing. It is angsty, and I'm not sure if you want to consider it an unsent letter, or just a thought process. I leave that up to the reader.

A Note of Farewell

By MoonofMorrigan

My beloved. My dark angel. My passion. My pain. I've grown tired of loving you. You will take that out of context, I know. But one can only love a dream so long before the emptiness of it overwhelms you. I wanted you from the moment I seen you. Not in the usual way one would think. Yes, I was attracted to you. I was more drawn to you with a desire just to sit beside you for a little while and hear you speak. Dare to wish for a glance. Hope against hope for a touch. I was content with these things. But it grew, and with it so did the impossibility of what I wanted from you. I wanted to love you. I wanted to make love to you. Do you know what that means to a person like me? Do you know what it even is like for a person like me to be even remotely attracted to someone?

No, you wouldn't. It's not your fault. You don't even know how I feel. How I ever felt. You are, I am sure, aware that I like you. You're playful enough to use that, and twist it around... but you have no idea as to depth that it became. It became an ache... a heartbreaking ache. One that haunts me in the night and only barely leaves me to function in the day.

Despite how much I love you, I have to say good-bye. I'm tired. I'm so tired of chasing moonlight and stars. You shine like them. You are just as unattainable as they are. My mind keeps saying this, along with "let you go". But the heart, that beautiful - horrible, little thing refuses. It says, "Go ahead and love you. It hasn't hurt anyone else, has it?" But it hurts me. But how pathetic I am! I am not jealous if another is with you. I don't sit here moping and wishing it was me. I'm happy to see you happy. Yes, I am aware that I am lying to myself. I know that little selfish part of me knows, if you're happy with someone else, I'm not. Not really.

I'm so tired of being miserable. I'm so tired of being a fool. Do you know what you do to people, my dearest? That wicked, playful glint in your eyes makes me believe you do. But you're not a cruel person. You never were. You don't try to do these things to me or anyone else, they are just natural to you. This sounds like a contradiction, huh?

Well, I just know, in the end I have no one else to blame for my feelings but myself. So, I keep telling myself all I have to do is believe I don't love you so much. Believe that when I look at you that the leap my heart does is only due to seeing a friend again. That the shortness of breath I feel when you speak is just my imagination. That the ache I feel when you must go is just entirely, and miserably the result of me lying to myself.

Yes, I'm tired of loving you. The problem is my love, no matter what I do, no matter how tired of it I am, I can't stop.

I've tried. I've failed. I can't stop loving you. So, please, I must plead – when you next see me, don't ask why my eyes look haunted and hurt. Don't ask me to consul you when you think of your lost love. Don't ask.

Now, I am taking my leave, and pray, do not ever ask when I will return, for even I do not know. How do you measure the time a heart takes to heal enough, so it can be torn open again at a single glance?

~FINISH~