"Melindo," she said softly coming up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He looked over his shoulder at her and kissed her cheek as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Why have you come here?"

This was not the first time she had found her husband sitting at the top of their new home in Mirkwood, which Thranduil had renamed Eryn Lasgalen. It had been centuries since they'd last slaughtered the great wood's beasts, and they lived in peace within their flourishing trees.

It had been centuries since their son had sailed for the Undying Lands, taking with him his closest friend; who Legawen had been most pleased to meet. Thranduil had not been so joyful to shake the hand of Gimli son of Gloin, but his wife and son outnumbered him and so the dwarf had been welcomed to stay in their home for a time – reconciling the two peoples.

It had also been centuries since Legawen had first noted her husband's fraying hold on Middle Earth. In truth, she had wished to sail with her son; her husband had bid her go, for his love for her was great, but he wished to restore his kingdom and so he would remain until it was complete. Legawen's love for Thranduil was great enough that she had remained at his side, knowing he would spend centuries longing and aching for her should she leave him; so she'd stayed.

…

Legawen shielded her husband's head as best she could, waiting for the blow that would kill them both. It did not come. She looked up wide eyed at the orc's scream – hearing not only the pain, but the rage beneath it – to see him staring at his arm. Below him was Thorin Oakenshield, standing erect with all the force of a dwarven king, the rest of Azog's arm and his mace on the ground at his feet.

Azog turned on Thorin with a roar and swung his metal spike, Thorin met his blow with his ax; the sound of metal clashing ringing loud in the air. So strong was Thorin's spirit that he drove his foe back, but the dwarf king had forgotten the warg. The white beast leapt at the dwarf and knocked him off his feet, crushing his leg in its powerful jaw, eliciting a strangled yell from Thorin. Azog leered down at the dwarf before impaling him with his spike, laughing as Thorin cried out.

The pale warg circled the dwarf, stopping at his head, and bared its teeth menacingly. Thorin yelled through clenched teeth as Azog twisted the spike in his gut, staring up at the warg as it opened its jaw. The warg collapsed dead with an arrow embedded in it's head, and Thorin turned to see Legawen standing with her bow in hand. She had lost her her arrows as she had jumped, and she had taken an arrow from a dead goblin and shot the beast; but it left her unarmed when Azog turned on her snarling.

Her bow did nothing but shatter when she hit him with it, and she was left with empty hands as she stared up at him. "No," Thorin yelled when Azog flung her against the Mountain, watching as she crumpled on the ground.

Everything had gone white for a moment when her head hit the rock, and she laid blinking as she caught her breath. She knew she was hurt but she couldn't feel anything, at least for the moment. She pulled herself along the ground trying to back away from the orc as he walked to where she laid, and then she could feel just how hurt her body was. Her head pounded agonizingly and she could feel her heart beating behind her eyes, and she sat with her back against a rock and nowhere else to go.

She did not close her eyes, she did not turn her head away as Azog descended upon her; she stared at him waiting for him to take her life. And for the second time she braced herself for a lethal blow that did not come. The sword moved too fast for her to see, and then Azog's head fell to the ground and then a second after his body fell.

"Thranduil," she said softly, seeing him swaying on his feet with a sword in his hand. He fell moments later, only having strength enough to save his wife before he could stand no longer. She crawled to him, her body screaming at her every inch she moved but she did not stop until she lay at his side staring into his eyes. "Melindo," she said cupping his cheek.

"I am sorry Melda," he said wearily, black stars dancing in his eyes. He could not protect her, his strength had fled him and he could see hers had as well. But unconsciousness took him before he could say anything else, and she was left alone.

Thorin had gained his feet only for a goblin to thrust its spear in his belly. Azog's roar had caught the attention of the goblins and they swarmed around him, tittering excitedly. With a battle cry Fili and Kili leapt in the middle of them and fought them back. Thorin watched as his nephews protected him, and then as they fell. And then he was left staring up at Bolg as he held his spear above his head. He gasped startled as jaws wrapped around Azog's son and flung him away, and then Thorin was left staring at a massive black bear.

Legawen watched as the bear gently picked Thorin up and carried him away, and then heard his roars and growls as he tore through the goblins – leaving them to run away in fear.

"Naneth," Legolas called when he saw her, and then he saw his father and the blood on his head. He gently cupped his mother's cheek in his hand, she smiled slightly at him; her blinking slowing and it growing harder for her to open her eyes after they closed. He felt something on his fingers and released his mother's head to see there was blood from where he'd touched her.

He called to those around him and told them to take the Elvenking to be healed, and he gathered his mother in his arms as men and elves alike carried his father. Legawen's arm fell from around his neck and hung limp down his back as the world turned dark behind her eyes.

…

He turned fully to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, and sighed as he held her to his chest. "Who am I to leave my kingdom to?" he asked her softly, wanting nothing more than take her by the hand and to sail with her – but he was coming to see he could not yet, though he greatly wished to. "Our son has gone and bore no heir of his own. There is no one to wear my crown."

Legawen ran her hands along his chest as she thought, for he was right; though there was one elf she had been thinking of. "Perhaps Tauriel could take up your crown."

"Your ward?" he asked as he thought, absentmindedly playing with her hair. "She is a fierce leader, she would make a strong queen though she refuses to wed."

Legawen smiled sadly as she thought of the red haired elleth she had loved for centuries as her own daughter, and of the dwarf who had taken a part of her heart to his grave. "She has no desire to leave Middle Earth, as do many of our kin. They have known her all her life. She would rule your kingdom justly."

Thranduil looked down into her eyes, imagining spending his unending days with her in peace; it was a dream he greatly hoped to make a reality. He was so tired.

"Let us leave together, as we swore to," she said gently, soothing his weary spirit.

He held her tight against his chest, breathing in the scent of her which hadn't changed for the four thousand years they'd been wed. When he breathed out he had come to his decision; it was time for them to leave.

Next chapter will be the last one and then this story will be finished. I'll probably thank you then as well, but thank you all very much for reading and reviewing.