A/N: I honestly was not intending to finish this but I was reading a recent review and felt really disappointed with myself for just stopping, one chapter from the end. So here it finally is! Thanks to everyone who read, and everyone who put up with my horribly irregular updating. I have no idea what I'll do next, but we'll see. I hope you've enjoyed it.

As always: ASK.Gravitation@verizon.net





"It's funny-but I never noticed the blood before. It must have been there, only I never really saw it. It was death, but it wasn't so final. And so bloody..." The elf shivered.

Aragorn bit his lip. "And so it goes. What happens now?"

"Now?" Legolas leaned down, pushing his hair over his shoulder and cupping his hands into the fountain's water, "We drink." He sipped the liquid. And in some part of him, he was hoping to drink immortality again, hoping to die from the poison that was once there, hoping against hope...

"Just water," he whispered, shaking the droplets from his hands and wringing the cuff of his sleeve.

Aragorn kneeled next to him. "A mortal earth. I never would have toyed with the notion."

Legolas averted his eyes, "There are worse things than eventual death. I see that now. The earth...has millions of years to go. It needn't fear its demise quite yet."

There was no visible difference, really. The trees still parted at random intervals, allowing the light to splatter on the grass and moss like paint. The vines climbed the trees, some whispered endearments and embracing the trunks, some choking the very life away. By looking at the water you'd never know that it was only copying the sky. Only now, a few blades of grass crunched with movement, instead of rustling. Now, there was wind and rain and crickets and sky but no voices. That ballad that seemed to engulf and regurgitate nature eternally had been silenced. And that, perhaps, was not even noticeable to the one who had heard it every day of their life for 100 years.

"I think," Legolas said suddenly, "That I was trying to redeem myself, rather than avenge myself. I'd like to think so, anyway."

"I believe it."

"She was tortured to betray her people-by blood and by her own guilt. But I think her guilt did her in. It should be the 8th sin. It's so complicated, so manipulative," Legolas sighed wearily, looking at his lap, "There is nothing we can do for the souls already caught. But we can slay the orcs that wear them."

Aragorn shook his head, "I will never slay an orc that wears a chain about his neck, for fear that I will cut your throat as well."

Legolas smiled meekly, "Point well taken."

"Stand up."

The elf obeyed, brushing himself off. Aragorn stood up as well. He grabbed a handful of his tunic and pulled him towards him, kissing him with almost bruising intensity. His hand clenched at Aragorn's back, his other arm winding around his neck, determined to never let go. Legolas felt like he would choke on the pure fierceness of it. And then he realized it wasn't that which was making him hurt. It wasn't the slight pain, the dizzying sweetness or even the unyielding desire that was surging within him. It was this finality that he tasted in his mouth, sharper than any blood. That it tasted to completely of goodbye.

He pulled away, licking the corner of his mouth and tasting the tear he hadn't known he'd shed. "This is it then."

Aragorn shrugged. "Give me your hand."

He shuffled through his bag and pulled out a long quill, dipping it in a small pot of ink. Legolas held out his hand. Aragorn took it, turned it palm down and scribbled across it hurriedly. He clutched Legolas' hand for a second, then let go. Legolas did not look down.

"We'll be in touch. You're a great man. Elf. Both."

Legolas smiled halfheartedly. "Don't forget."

"I couldn't if I wanted to."

Legolas handed him a corked bottle. "Water, for the road." His words were short but held so much more than the promise of a drink. "So you can slake your thirst." He bit his lip, looking away. "Remember, I meant what I said. That I do..." his lips formed the words but they wouldn't become sound.

Aragorn nodded. "I know." He backed up, waved, and began to walk. Legolas stood still until he couldn't hear the shuffle of boots on leaves. He drank in the vacuum until it filled him up.

His hand was clenched into a fist. Smeared ink from so many days ago was still on his palm. On the other side, it read, //Nothing is forever.//

Legolas sank to the ground. The wind pounded in his ears as the sweet scent of decaying earth and wood infiltrated the air.

His eyes fluttered closed. It was funny how nothing could make him cry so much.



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