AN: Long time, no see. Apologies but it couldn't be helped. For those still faithful to this story (you guys are awesome!) I hope you enjoy this update. There a couple more chapters to go but I'm not sure when I will post them. This chapter is solely dedicated to Erynriel who has definitely been my guiding star!

Enjoy.

Tauriel POV

Years passed in bliss. Tauriel could not be sure how many exactly but Aragorn's hair silvered and his faced lined. Arwen remained ever youthful as she would until her dying day. Éowyn and Faramir had aged the fastest and although they had lived a happy and long life by mortal standards, Tauriel predicted that they were not long for this world. Even Gimli appeared to grow shorter and his beard, longer.

In stark contrast, Thranadir grew brilliantly with Fin-galad although he still barely looked the age of a mortal boy of twelve. Elves took many more years to mature than the race of men. Arthoniel, daughter of Arwen became increasingly detached from her mortal kin and their customs, favouring instead the company and culture of the woodland elves. The young elleth that so resembled her mother in grace was exceptionally proud but those who knew her best also found her incredibly compassionate. Arthoniel favoured the healing arts and would spend hours out at a time with the elves gathering the rarest and most potent of herbs. It was clear the child was choosing the elven path, as was her birthright, yet no one had the heart to voice it aloud. One day soon though, the people of Gondor would come to realise that the daughter of the King would be lost to them, whilst the son would remain as the future King.

Tauriel had her own worries for Legolas as she started to sense a restlessness in him when her love saw Aragorn stoop a little more or when Gimli faltered. Tauriel was not immune either. The thought of her friends' impending mortality terrified her and at first she was somewhat startled by the callous way men would joke light-heartedly about their own doom.

Tauriel had once asked Éowyn on her opinions on the subject back when the woman was in her middle years and her golden locks were traced with the first glimmer of silver. 'Do you fear death, my lady?'

But Éowyn had just laughed in response and touched Tauriel's arm in affection. 'I am not afraid of death, for it is but another form of freedom in a sense.' Éowyn had then wrinkled her nose and smiled. 'Although it is odd to see and feel myself weary with age and yet you my friend remain frozen, ever youthful. Sometimes I forget we are not the same race.'

Years later, Tauriel at present, seated in the shade of an oak tree, again mulled those words that had been spoken so many years ago through her mind. The Captain did not find much comfort as her mortal friends would never see her if she were to die. Tauriel frowned down at the grass.

Such grim thoughts!

An acorn hit her in the forehead.

'What has your bowstring in a knot, little Tauriel?' Ranadir sauntered over, his chestnut hair dappled in the afternoon sun. Tauriel did not respond and instead, with lightning speed, flicked the acorn back at the elf's nose. Prepared for a retaliation, Ranadir easily knocked the missile away with a tap of his hand.

Tauriel sighed and leaned against the oak, although her face formed a small smile.

Ranadir settled next to Tauriel on the ground and easily draped an arm about her shoulders. 'So?' He prompted.

'Oh you know, I was debating whether mortality is a burden or a gift.' Tauriel replied, closing her eyes.

'Ah, just a light and trivial matter then.' Ranadir chuckled but leant his head on top of Tauriel's all the same, as the two found solace from the afternoon sun.

Thranduil POV

Thranduil stretched back his shoulders after finishing the last of his never-ending correspondence with the remaining other elven settlements. He was innately aware that more and more of his people were leaving theses shores never to return and had considered when he would move his own people. Some had left already, those on the outskirts and a handful of nobility who more keenly felt the burden of this world. The majority of his kingdom however, loyally awaited his command for they knew that above all, Thranduil valued the safety and lives of his elves.

Not yet. Not without Legolas.

Moving his statuesque figure to the balcony the King of the Woodelves began his nightly contemplation of the jewelled sky over Eryn Lasgalen and started his routine habit of telling his star flower about his day. Perhaps this was an odd habit he had developed. Talking to the growing things was something the Eldar of old did and Galadriel still probably did but Thranduil cared not. He was lonely. He missed his son. Still, hope remained that Legolas would one day be returning and probably not before long. Turning his silver head to inhale the delicate scent of pure moonlight radiating from the single bloom, Thranduil paused and peered closer. After all these years, a second flower bud was just beginning to form near to the first bloom.

Interesting.

Tauriel POV

Far away to the South, Tauriel woke with a gasp from her dreams of walking through the starlit Greenwood. Sitting up in bed, the elleth immediately felt a strong pair of arms encircle her slim form in a reassuring caress.

'Man cerig meleth nin?' Legolas stroked a hand through her auburn tresses that fell down her back.

Breathing deeply, Tauriel felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips as she placed a hand delicately over her abdomen. The Captain just knew.

A second child. My daughter.

AN: Sorry it's not longer but there is more to come (at some point).