I have made a few corrections, like I said, I'm no expert in this department. I may make a sequel, maybe not.

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She watched as her son slumbered on. For the first night in weeks his silver blue eyes were open and glazed over in sleep. At last he was able to sleep as a true elf should. She stroked the elven child's golden strands away from his face so that her own eyes could linger on him for just a little longer. Both of them shared the same eyes…she couldn't help but notice it. For she felt the need to take in every feature of her son, every strand of hair, every gentle laugh that echoed from him, and his light. For such a youngling his inner soul lit up greatly, greater than any other at his age she had ever seen. A single tear escaped from her eye as she wandered in memories of her son. Slowly, she inhaled, hoping to settle any chance of an oncoming wave of tears. When she felt she could no longer hold them in a strong hand touched her shoulder and gave her strength.

"Andúnëia, meleth-nin, what is wrong?" a smooth voice whispered.

Her beloved, Thranduil, how could her sorrow not deepen when he stood here. Dark features, very usual, for an elf of Mirkwood. Lengthy golden strands just like his son's, but his eyes though a mysterious dark amber, were gentle.

"Thranduil," she sobbed, "Legolas," she cried as her eyes lingered on her sleeping son, "I wish not to be parted from him, for I love him so much."

"Then stay my love," the lord begged, "Stay to watch over him, to be his nana…"

She let out a wave of tears at this, "Nay," she forced herself to whisper so as not to awaken her son, "I cannot linger here."

The elven king cupped his love's tear stained face as he brought her forehead to meet his own. Her sorrow tinted breaths came out quick and erratic. He encouraged the calm to settle over her with soft shushes as he kissed her. Their love had passed centuries only to be separated by the Sea. Continually Thranduil brushed back her waved hair and kissed her. He found tears sliding down his own cheeks. It was odd, the cold hearted king of Mirkwood crying…

"Why has the Sea claimed you so soon Andúnëia?" once again both them leaned on the other's forehead for support, "You were not like this before."

"Aye, I was, but the calling was much softer than before."

"But you have Legolas," the king stated, almost in a pleading sort of voice, "I am not enough for him, he needs you."

"Hush," she said, bringing up her index finger up his lips, "Shh, never say that. Legolas will grow without me, for he has a light greater than any."

The once small gap between them had grown, but they remained connected when Andúnëia entwined her fingers with her husband's own. She brought him over to where their son slept, her young son. She could have kept eyes on him until he woke up, and so could Thranduil. He loved Legolas greatly, a lad who was barely over a 29 years of age, looked to be the human age of five. Already, he had become a little pip, spirited yet gentle. Both husband and wife felt pride well up within, for they had produced a fine son, a beautiful daughter, and two grown sons who had become the greatest of warriors, but fell in battle. The loss of them had not gone without sorrow, so the birth of Legolas and Imeidath had been a blessing on the land. The bond of mother and daughter was strong, but Imeidath had left Mirkwood in marriage to an elf of Rivendell and would remain with her husband till the Sea had captured him as well. So, it would be only Thranduil and his youngest…

"Meleth-nin," Andúnëia spoke with eyes still on the sleeping Legolas, "Look at your son, our son, and tell me what you see."

"I see a young elf," Thranduil paused, to stare on at his son, "a young elf who has seen so much at such a tender age. Who has seen the horror of orcs, of our realm's spiders when he was too young to even know of them. He is still a child," he paused to lock eyes with his life partner, "a child who needs his mother, Andúnëia."

Her rose lips curled into a soft smile, "Aye, that is what I thought before the Lady of the Woods spoke to me," once again she kept her son in view, "Galadriel showed me his future, Thranduil. I will not say in detail, but our son will be great," she spoke these words with such passion, it even seemed as though her light had brightened, "He will help save us all, maybe he will make Mirkwood go back to being Greenwood again…"

"He will see death," Thranduil said absentmindedly, "He will become a warrior, yet after all the horrors Legolas has seen, he has yet to experience death up close. He never knew of his brothers, he does not know how to handle true grief."

"My departure may teach him so…"

"You still think he will be able to move on?"

Andúnëia nodded, "Yes, I do. I cannot move on, I have to leave this land."

"I thought our love was stronger than this," the king revealed, some of the coldness he felt from her leaving.

Andúnëia held her husband's hands in her own, looking into his eyes. It was something they always did, both piercing into the other's soul. However, Thranduil made no attempt to look into Andúnëia's eyes. She knew he would be like this, just as she had been minutes ago. Yet, his words had warmed her heart and dried her tears, so she would do the same.

"We will not be apart," she spoke in the tongue of their people as she caressed his cheek, "Our love shall ascend into higher skies. Our souls are forever entwined, we have given each other our hearts…"