Moonlight fell over the pool of water that Legolas stood waist deep in. A blue hue crept across his surroundings. The night was clear and crisp, the water cool. Legolas looked down as his long fingered hands rose out of the water. He rubbed them together, washing the soil from his calloused skin. He pictured the bones of his hands moving beneath his pale skin as he held them up to the moonlight. He looked at his palms then the back of his hands , then back at his palms. "Will this turn to dust, he thought, or will I someday make it to the safety of the undying lands to be with my people? " He had never questioned his immortality before. He had seen elves die in battle, but he had been so young, it did not even seem real to him now. Gandalf and Boromir were gone. "They simply no longer exist.", he thought. Gandalf fell into the darkness. "He is gone." , he told himself. His mind could not wrap itself around such a thought. "Wizards die? " The image of Aragorn saying goodbye to Boromir as he lay bleeding to death kept entering his mind. At first it had intrigued him. Now, it was haunting him. "Men die. You know that. You've always known that." Suddenly, his mind was bombarded with a stream of images. A flash of Boromir's smile, then him lying dead. He saw Gandalf in Rivendell and then a flash of him from long ago when Legolas was much younger. "How long have I known him...hadn't I always known him?" His thoughts became muddled; a sensation unfamiliar to the usually clear headed elf. He ran water over his chest, hoping to wash away the ache swelling in his chest. Heat rushed to his face. Water began falling from his burning eyes. His head felt thick and heavy. He let it fall into his hands. His body began to shudder uncontrollably, not very different from an orgasm, but lacking any pleasure. He was surprised to hear a high pitched whimper escape his lips. He wrapped his pale arms around himself. He was shaking, cold , naked and alone...consumed with grief.