Just a quick note, I do not own any of the characters in this story, Legolas, Aragorn Gimli, and the Elven language are all figments of J.R.R Tolkien's' incredibly vivid and brilliant imagination. I've just put the characters into a different use! In otherwords it all belongs to him.
Mortal
Legolas glanced upwards, flinching slightly, at the arrow that just ricocheted of the wall past his head. The rain was drenching, but he was not cold. Legolas had noticed that he was numb to many things since starting out on the journey of the fellowship. He had been warned that this task may be his last, but he had not taken the advice to heart. He was only young and slightly foolish as his father called him. Legolas refused to listen to his words, taking only to heed what he thought was needed. This, he concluded, probably did make him foolish.
Gimli fought gallantly beside him, and the battle for helms deep was only thickening, his elvish kinsmen, who had arrived to form an alliance once again with the race of men, were falling around him like leaves. He closed his eyes for only a second, and could see himself back in the forest of Mirkwood, enjoying the fruits of life. Opening them again, he was drawn back to the harsh reality. A tear slid from his eye, down his cheek, and he could taste it. A new and strange sensation for him, and he suddenly realised that such was the life of the mortal.
He had experienced deep feelings of loss when Gandalf fell to darkness and shadow, he understood more what life meant to men, when boromir fell. His sorrow was worth aching over when he thought Aragorn had died, and that was the strongest of them all.
It moved in waves over his body now, the anger and the pain, the sickness and hurt, he felt the despair and sorrow of men dying around him. Feelings, they were like a disease and they overcame him. Standing in the rain, staring down on the thousands of orcs and urak-hai, he felt his heart burst with pain and he cried, for the first time in his life he cried streams of tears, mixing with the dirt and rain already upon his face. The tears stung his cheeks like whips, and they tasted bitter, bitter like the contempt he felt for them. And suddenly he felt ashamed for despairing; yet he could do naught about it.
"Legolas!!"
Legolas turned, in time to see Aragorn screaming his name, turning again swiftly he felt the blade cut upwards through his stomach, he stopped mid turn, gasping for breath, the orc grunted and moved off. Legolas grabbed the sword and pulled it from his abdomen. Aragorn rushed to be by his side, catching his companion as he fell. Legolas took a last glance at the epic battle around him, and at the sky and earth he would never see again. "Legolas NO!" Aragorn screamed again Legolas mustered his last smile. "I feel honoured to have died in your arms dear friend" he said, tasting the sticky sweet blood in his mouth. Aragorn 's tears fell on his face and he reached up with his arm to wipe them away.
"So this is how it feels to be mortal," Legolas said, before shutting his eyes. "Namárië Aragorn, Namárië."
NB:Namárië. means Goodbye in the Elven Language.