A/N; I wrote this a long time ago and I was shocked when I looked back at it because I quite liked it after getting away from it for a year or two XD And I'm sorry if my little snippets of Sindarin are grammatically incorrect or anything. I have consulted multiple sources trying to find the best translations. I hope that it's all right, because I know there a lot of Tolkien fans out there who know the languages of Middle-earth better than I do.

DISCLAIMER: LOTR BELONGS TO TOLKIEN. I OWN NOTHING.

It was high afternoon, the sky a bright, clear blue over Minas Tirith. It may have been a beautiful day, if it were a day in the days of the King, or at any other time, really. Though this escaped Eowyn's notice almost entirely.

Positioned at her window in the palace, facing out over Pelenor Fields, Eowyn's gaze was focused on what had once been a beautiful green expanse, but was now a wasteland of horror. There was a terrible smell on the air still, and there was a sickened haze lingering over the destroyed plain.

But something that made her heart fill with dread and despair even more was to be seen if one would only lift their eyes a little from what had been a field of battle. The black, ever-churning clouds that hung over Mordor loomed ever on the horizon, and in the Lady of Rohan's heart. All the lives lost, all the pain felt; the shadow still remained. She felt sure it would spread out its dark wings once again; covering her land, this land, and all the others in Middle-earth.

They had been very kind to her in Gondor. Lord Aragorn, whom she had never expected to see again, had even tended to her wounds. They had given her a place to stay in the palace; a beautiful chamber. She was still weakened (mostly by the hand of sorrow), and spent most of her time in her room.

She had been watching out her window for a long while now, as she had oft done since her stay had begun. She was dressed in a loose-fitting, white dress with flowing sleeves. Her golden hair was let down, blowing slightly in the breeze sifting gently in the stone window.

"Why do you fear the shadow, my lady?", came a gentle, male voice.

Lady Eowyn jumped slightly upon hearing the voice. She turned to see a face that was only vaguely familiar to her.

"Your stealth should be applauded, Master Elf,", she said, smiling very feebly at him.

"I did not mean to startle you, my lady,", he said, taking another step towards her.

She had never conversed with the elf before; she'd never really had the chance. She didn't even really know his name. But as she saw him now, she realized; she had never even studied his face. His complexion was pale, very fair. She had little experience with elves, for her uncle had never sought their council, but she supposed that this was simply their way. And it wasn't unpleasant at all.

From her first glance upon him in her home at Edoras, she had remembered thinking that his features were rather sharp, forbidding. This had been how elves had been described to her by her elders. But now that she saw him up close, she did not think that this was the case. At first sight, perhaps this might be what one saw, but now that she had been granted another opportunity, she saw otherwise. He had a very regal face (set off by his midnight blue eyes and his flowing blonde hair), but it was... Kind. More kind than she had ever imagined any elf to be.

It was then that she realized that she had not been speaking, only staring at him. She looked down abruptly, remembering herself.

"I do not think, Master Elf, that I remember your name.".

He smiled a little.

"It is Legolas.".

"Indeed,", she said, slightly embarrassed.

"You fought bravely, Lady Eowyn. To slay the Witchking of Angmar is no small victory,", he said, now standing next to her at the window.

"You are very kind, Legolas, but I fear that it makes little difference,", she looked back out the window, suddenly seeming weary.

Legolas looked down at her, his Elven face never dimming.

"I understand, Lady Eowyn.".

Eowyn, puzzled, looked up at him. "What do you understand?".

"I understand... How you feel,", he said, averting his gaze out over the former battlefield.

"I hope you do not.".

He looked down at her, waiting for her to continue. Her gaze was fixed on the shadow in the East.

"Your king is not dead. You are of the First-Born, you do not feel the pain that we mortals are faced with. The taste of mortality is a bitter one. The shadow cannot affect your people in the way that it destroys my own,", Eowyn said, suddenly turning to him.

Legolas swallowed.

"I understand more than you may think, my lady. The time of the Eldar is ending. What elves love best is the light, and it is but slipping away. The darkness has brought to a bitter end so many that I have known, elf and man. The shadow eats at our souls, decaying us day by day,", he said, looking down mournfully directly into her eyes with a gaze that could cut glass.

Eowyn's eyes, for the first time since her uncle's death, filled with tears. She looked on at him expectantly.

"Long I have felt the Dark Lord's power growing, for centuries I have dreaded this very fate. I have sensed his malice in my heart, feeling the stretch of his arm grow longer, while just... Waiting. But now, my lady,", he said, his expression turning. A dim light was lit behind his eyes that warmed Eowyn's heart immediately.

"What?", she said, engrossed. She offered him her hands. He took them gently.

"I feel Sauron's doubt, his fear of Aragorn. He fears your people, Eowyn, he fears Rohan and Gondor. The Dark Lord has long hunted Lord Aragorn, and his father before him. But even as the clouds gather, the line of Númenor endures. I do not believe that is in vain,", he said, looking reassuringly into Eowyn's eyes.

"Your senses must be weakened from your long travels and labours in battle,", she said, turning away from his gaze.

"No, my lady. I have never been more certain of anything. There will be victory for the Free Peoples of Middle-earth.".

Eowyn looked up at him, a single tear rushing down her cheek.

"You have brought my heart hope, Master Legolas.".

He looked down, smiling rather sheepishly.

They stood in silence for a few moments.

"The best and most wondrous of things oft lie in front of our very eyes, my lady. And if we open our hearts to them, they will reward us,", he said.

Eowyn looked up, welcoming his gaze again, but in a moment his eyes turned to look out towards the outer corridor. Eowyn followed his gaze.

There stood a man, with shoulder-length ginger hair and his arm in a sling, limping slightly down the stone walkway. It took a moment for Eowyn to pair a name to his face, but she soon remembered; he was Faramir, Son of Denethor. He had been severely wounded before the battle had even begun, while trying to repel the orc's siege of Osgilliath, as she had heard later.

"Even in the darkest hour, there is light,", he said, nodding towards Faramir.

He bent closer to her ear, "You will need each other in the days to come.".

Before Eowyn could even react, Legolas had let go of her hands, gave her a very respectful bow and a warm smile.

"Na gelir, bain elleth,", he said in his native tongue.

Eowyn's mouth gaped, still trying to find words to say, even after he had gone.

Then she looked up to the disappearing figure of Faramir.

She allowed a small smile to escape her lips.