A/N: sorry its a little short. Thanks so much to the people who reviewed my other stories.

'No, no, no' I scream. I pull out my weapons, slashing and stabbing and killing, but they just wont fall. They keep coming and coming and coming. Blood coats my clothing after each strike, so my clothes are stained black. An endless pile of bodies. I leap over them running and killing. Another throat slashed, another heart pierced. I reach him. Maybe we will survive.

But its like I'm not even there. Because I'm not. The blood is gone, now I don a white silk dress, which would be pretty if not for the meaning. He keeps going...alone. Because there is nothing I can do. Nothing that will change it. He falls, after killing so many. All the creatures leave, their task complete. Another heart broken, literally and metaphorically.

I cradle his head in my arms, which are just solid enough to provide the dying elf a wisp of comfort.

"Nadear"

A cry of anguish escapes my lips.

Xxxx

I sent for Legolas and Gwenel, and we wait together, the only thing disrupting the silence is Alehia's occasional moan or whimper. She tosses and turns in her trance-like sleep, half of her celeste irises showing in a disturbing fashion.

Gwenel paces, back and forth in their small living space. She is as upset as Alehia about Janrean, but with Alehia in her current state, she can not grieve properly. Legolas is sitting, but I can tell he is not as relaxed as his facial expression shows. His muscles are tense, as if expecting to fight. His back is strait, too strait, even for the fine posture of a prince. I kneel by the bed, holding her ice cold fingers.

Without warning, a cry so full of anguish even a stranger would take pity on the poor creature that made it, rises into the room, and many rooms of the palace can most likely hear it too. The archer sits bolt upright.

"Edíwn le muindor!"

and she falls back again, her eyes completely shut now. I let my head slam into the bed.

In the seconds the event happened, the prince was at her side, the back of his hand on her cheek. As she fell, he lowered it to feel her neck, and then her pulse.

"Its regular sleep," he explained with a relieved sigh. Well, her eyes were closed, but Legolas knew more of this than I, so I kept quiet.

"You are welcome to stay for the night..." Gwenel offers. I accepted gratefully, but the prince hadsduties and must return to the main branches of the palace. As he leaves, I grab his arm. Our eyes meet. I search the cobalt orbs. He cares for her. Ever since that test, when he met a young, optimistic elfling, she was the little sister he never had. She had hopes of creating a better world for herself and her kin. She was a sister to both of us.

And she was sick. And we could do nothing.

Elvish translations:

Nadear – good bye

Edíwn le muindor – I failed you brother

A/N: Just to clarify, Gwenel is her sister...

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