Title – Fading

Authoress – Phoenix Tears

Summary – 'I kept the promise that I uttered, foolishly and naively, almost two millennia ago, under the star-lit boughs of Lórien. It was you, who did not. And I fade because of you.'

Authoress' Note – All Elvish used is Quenya Elvish, as is to my knowledge. If anything is used incorrectly, please leave a review specifying which part, and I shall try as soon as possible to correct it. Thank you!

Rating – G

Warning – Slash. Don't like – don't read. Quite angsty.

Disclaimer – I own nothing, except for this plot. Everything else belongs to the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien.

Feedback – Of course, as for every writer, questions, thoughts, and constructive criticism are all greatly appreciated. Thank you, and enjoy.

            The ship departs. And with it go my soul and heart and body.

            Can you not see it? The time of the elves is fading, melethron. We are fading quickly, like the last rays of spring in the ever-golden woods of Lórien.

            But I fade faster.

            My heart died, day-by-day, and not even Arwen and Aragorn and Gimli, with all their friendship and love and caring for me, could save it from fading.

            The one who can cares no longer.

            The last of our kind is leaving for the shores of Valinor, and then –

            I shall be gone forever.

            And they shall sing for me, voices ringing beautifully with love and respect for their most famed archer, Cundu Legolas Greenleaf, yondo o Aran Thranduil o Mirkwood, curucuar, belegohtar, amin khiluva lle a gurtha ar thar. Oio naa elealla alassë, ar vanimle sila tiri e i'morier Tolea Fuin.

            Prince Legolas Greenleaf, son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood, skillful bowman, mighty warrior, I would follow you to death and beyond. Ever is thy sight a joy, and your beauty shines bright even in the dark Isles of Gloom.

            And they did, and they do, and they shall, long after my departure.

            But you did not, melamin.

            We had always known it would come to this, lirimaer, did we not?

            When I saw you, standing tall and proud and haughty as ever, erect upon your white stallion, features sharp and beautiful, I fell in lust.

            And when I saw you in the Lady of Light's service, eyes a dark cobalt silver and hair a mystical platinum that the Mirkwood elves had never seen before, a faint smile upon your handsome face – for me, for me, it was – I fell in love.

            And I fell until I could fall no more.

            You brought me to your talan that night, oh, el-amin, do you remember? You took me to your talan, when I was but a millennia aged, and you were half more than I.

            You made love to me, slowly, lovingly, gently, passionately, and told me you could not live without looking upon my fair face for all eternity.

            Amin il'coie avaena lle, you whispered in your sonorous, gentle voice. I cannot live without you. Oh, but you can, meleth. You have. You left me; took that pretty little elf-maiden to your betrothal bed and left me forgotten there, eyes filled with tears and heart filled with hurt. You lived without me.

            You made love to her, just as you made love to me, and whispered loving words to her, as well. And she believed you, as I did.

            And I, at that time innocent and trusting, eyes wide and blue, hair golden and fair, said, Amin n'kelaya lle. I will never leave you.

            Aragorn died an honourable death, having ruled wisely over his kingdom for many ages. And after his death, Arwen sunk into a deep darkness.

            She had been my dearest companion for so many years, and it pained me so to see her beautiful face edged in deep pain, just as mine had been for you.

            I feared for her, and forgot about you, a'maelamin, for a while.

            But the Evenstar begged me take her to the woods of Lothlorien, where she would find rest and peace.

            She faded there, among the silvery niphredil and golden elanor, but lived on in the glory of our tales.

            And I saw you there, with your pretty maiden of fair golden locks and sapphire blue eyes, kneeling at the Lady's altar.

            Did you choose her because she bore such a resemblance to me, coramin?

            Your hair was as silver as I remembered, your eyes as beautiful and full of light, your form as strong and grand.

            You did not see me there.

            I left for Valinor the day after.

            It was not I who truly left in the end, Haldir o Lórien. I kept my promise.

            I kept the promise that I uttered, foolishly and naively, almost two millennia ago, under the star-lit boughs of Lórien.

            It was you, who did not.

            And I fade because of you.

Authoress' Note: Ai. Sad story. I wanted to add in some more about how Legolas was waiting for Haldir, but I decided it would be unneeded. Please review!

Oh, yes, I forgot to mention: the song that they sing for Legolas: Cundu Legolas Greenleaf, yondo o Aran Thranduil o Mirkwood, curucuar, belegohtar, amin khiluva lle a gurtha ar thar. Oio naa elealla alassë, ar vanimle sila tiri e i'morier Tolea Fuin, is actually in Sindarin.

This is because while Legolas and Haldir and all my other elf-characters speak Quenya, as it is the High, universal language, Sindarin is the main language of Mirkwood. So I have all the elves speak to each other in Quenyan, but the Mirkwood elves sing in Sindarin. Make sense?

Hantalë, ar tenna enomentiëlva, namárië.

Thank you, and until we meet again, farewell.