Here it is. The last chapter.

This story ended the moment I began to write it. Therefore, no matter how many mails I received to urge me in that direction, I can change neither the ending, nor the epilogue, which is already written and will follow this one. The epilogue is almost a new chapter in itself and will tie all the loose ends (no, I haven't forgotten anything) and bring a new angle, I hope. Some will like these last two chapters, some won't – I know. Such is the way with everything and it matters little, as long as we SHARE them.

I want to thank everyone who read this far, everyone who took the time and effort to write, everyone who shared and treasured. The road is never this entertaining when one walks alone. I also want to thank once again Melissa for forcing me to write this story in the first place and remaining ever supportive and tolerant through it, as well as my beta Kris, who put her own work aside to aid mine.

The curtain opens, the last act begins.

We have come this far. Here ends a tale of life. Of greed, loss, regret, past mistakes that won't let go. But also of love, hope, sacrifice, friendship and forgiveness.

Music Score:               Annie Lenox, Into the West (ROTK OST)

                                    Sting, Book of My Life (Sacred Love)

Darkness.

So deep and so long that it blocked out the memory of anything else.

She had no thoughts. No feelings. No perception. There was darkness only and that was all and final.

It was perfect, really. If she had been capable of thought, Irulan would think it beautiful. Peaceful. Alluring.

As it was, she felt nothing and only remained in it, like a little pebble resting in the depths of a lake.

Then it became imperfect. It twisted and stirred and with it, so did she. It became blotchy and torn and jarred and Irulan shifted restlessly, feeling disturbed at that. It crumbled and creaked and cracked and a frown settled on her face as her discomfort grew. The darkness bent further and was pulled and pushed, swishing with agony. Holes were driven into it and deep cuts appeared in its perfect stillness. Irulan shook her head, willing it back to completeness. But it pulsed on, heavy with agony and twisted, twisted, twisted until it was ripped open and it felt like her own heart was split apart. She gasped and released a strangled cry, arching on the ground. Her fingers curled with the pain and her limbs felt detached, not her own anymore. Every heartbeat hurt. Every breath burned. Her body refused to obey and she lay still, tortured by remaining like that alone.

In reality it was only minutes, but it felt far longer to her as the pain throbbed slower and her body sizzled back into vitality. The ache faded into the background and her brain slowly began a tentative attempt at understanding. She was lying on a hard surface. It was really dark or she had gone blind. She was not alone.

"Sssshhhhh...it is all right. I am with you," said a voice right then and if she had any strength, Irulan would have jumped with the sudden fear that ran through her. For momentarily she had no idea where she was and how she had gotten there and who this other person could be. A strangled whimper escaped her lips and something soft appeared against her forehead. "It is me, Irulan. You are safe. Relax." The words meant nothing. But she DID recognize her own name and in an unexplainable way, it brought tremendous relief.

Irulan obeyed the command and let time pass by. The caress on her face continued and she gave in to its spell, allowing her battered senses to dwindle back into position. Her memories came with a lazy, leisure stroll, very much like they would after a very deep episode of dreaming. And so absurd they were that they might have been a dream indeed. If not for the fact that she was hurt and lying on a dusty ground in almost total darkness, Irulan could have fooled herself into believing that she was in the hotel room with Baeron, waking up yet from another nasty dream.

"Baeron," she said and the cracked whisper was so different from what she expected to come from her lips.

He grasped her hand then. "You must get up, King-daughter," he said, his voice strained.

Irulan tried to focus but the pain she was feeling in her ribs was excruciating. She felt his hands on them and hissed with hurt when they glided on the spot. Baeron stopped immediately and grasped her waist, pulling her to sit up closer to him. "Irulan," he said, and it almost sounded like wheezing, "Get up. The tomb will close. Get up...now!"

"I...I can...not," she choked out in reply. The pain was incredible.

Baeron breathed deeply a couple of times and she used that interval to try to press down the dizziness, her eyes fluttering madly to see. "You MUST," he whispered, suddenly laying his palm against her face. Perhaps that was what made her finally able to open her eyes fully and take a long look at his face. It was not as dark as she thought it would be this far deep and her adjusted gaze found his features in the dim setting because he was so close to her. Her hand flew up to his temple and Irulan watched in amazement the warm dark liquid that stuck to her fingertips when she touched it.

"Wh-what is this?" she said in alarm, sitting up with haste, and almost cried out when a bolt of pain surged through her. "What happened?" was her strangled addition when she caught her breath again. And then the rest of her memories came to her – like a graceful ballerina, drawing arcs and circles closer and closer as she remained rooted on her spot, dumbfounded. Only her eyes widened with the remembrance. Baeron had been there during their short flight through the dark. She had felt his limbs entangling her and his strong grasp so hard on her, that it had literally hurt. His arms had pressed on her waist, pulling her against his chest and the breath had left her and rendered her unable to scream. And then she remembered her body turning, her brain registering amongst the chaos that she was angled to lie atop him to cushion her fall, right before an incredible darkness had shut off her mind with the ease of shutting off the light switch.

As incredible as it was, Baeron smiled in return and chose not to answer. The dust swirled some more, like some strange halo around his head. "Get up, Irulan," he said softly and his voice was inhuman...soft and yet demanding. Irulan swallowed, looking at him in alarm. The idea that Baeron was hurt and wounded was a scary one. Even scarier than the fact that they were in a tomb with God knows what else. And it was that idea that made her try again. Again pain fanned through her but this time he was there and completed her movement for her, pulling her up to a standing position as Irulan cried out despite herself. She closed her eyes with the hurt, distantly trying not to bite her tongue.

A moment passed as Baeron steadied her and swung her arm over his shoulders, his hand holding on to it while the other hand rested on her unharmed ribs. He waited a little and the sound of their heavy breathing was the only one in the darkness. "I cannot see," she whimpered finally, trying to shift on her feet and discovering that it only hurt to do so.

"I can," he said, his voice even more strained and coming out rather hoarse now. "Walk with me."

Irulan knew that he was in pain. It was evident in his clumsy stance, in his hoarse voice and most certainly in the way he was limping. And if an elf was hurt to this degree, that was not good. Not good at all. She began to cry then, out of sheer fear and worry. She should be strong. The thought of Aragorn came to her, but bounced off the thick armor of her current pain. She was not Aragorn. Nowhere near him. She was a stupid, weak, small woman! And she had caused serious injury to an elf!

His grasp on her grew somewhat stronger. "Sssshhhh," he soothed, his voice still rasping. She could not stop for the world, but tried to, against all odds. "Sssshhh...everything will be fine."

"I am so sorry," she whispered, breaking into sobs. "So sor-sorry...Baeron."

He halted then and the hand that held her arm let go to lean on a wall that was invisible to her. She felt him looking at her, but did not see that either. "Never be, Irulan," he said gently. Suddenly his fingers were on her cheek and Irulan whimpered, leaning into the touch. "You will be fine, I promise," he said, his voice hoarse again.

"And you?" she croaked, the fear squeezing her heart with might.

"So will I," was his late answer and though she saw no cheer in the way it was said, she hung to it with fervent hope. Irulan nodded a moment later, once again in effort to cease the stupid, childish crying. She only managed to turn it into sniffs. That seemed good enough for the elf, who once again bounced off the wall and continued to guide her through the darkness.

They walked, slowly inching their way through the debris as her eyes grew accustomed to the lack of light. She saw large, bulky shapes...boulders or blocks of stone, pillars...broken, heaved in or cracked into two...lying in ruins. The walls were adorned with the etchings of hieroglyphs, but it was too dark to see the details. Not that she was really interested at the moment. The pain was still there – a dull, red ache, growing no less with each step. Actually it grew more and reached such an overload that she began to feel it less, for the sole fact that her nerves began to numb with the pain-relieving fluid that was pumping through her nervous system.

Baeron did not speak and no other sound than their sliding steps and their harsh breathing came. There was a stagnant odor in the place and the idea that Irulan was breathing air that was thousands of years old, was rather awkward. And yet she kept her silence, so that she would not be an extra burden on him, now.

"How deep are we?" she said a long time later, mainly to hear his voice again.

"Not at its deepest," was his gasp of an answer. "Do not worry. Lord Legolas knows the way. He will come."

Irulan nodded and hung her head as Baeron paused and leaned on another wall, trying to catch his breath. She embraced him gently, afraid beyond reason at this point. Afraid of the dark. Of being in a tomb. Of his condition. His arm came around to embrace her back and he pressed her to himself, stronger than usual. Irulan felt tears building up again, because everything he did just scared her further. She buried her head into his shoulder, grasping his shirt in desperation as Baeron gently stroked her hair with his other hand. "Ssssshhhhh," he said again and she sobbed once more, simply unable to hold it. "It's all right to be afraid."

"Don't you dare leave me!" she cried, her hands trembling as the clutch on his shirt grew.

Baeron wheezed a laugh, then coughed with the pain of that action. Irulan hastily leaned back, waiting anxiously for it to pass. She could not see his face and therefore remained still as stone, listening with rapt attention. A few moments passed after it died out and she was surprised to feel his lips against hers, a tender kiss blooming between them. She kissed him back in desperation, eager to kill his pain and having no other means to do so and he relented to it, allowing it to grow between them, almost like an anchor that both held on to.

A faint, distant sound brought them back to reality. It was like stone falling on stone and the soft rumble of an echo. Baeron broke the kiss and she turned to the direction that sound had come from. "He has come," the elf whispered. "We must hurry. Come, Irulan."

She nodded and resumed her former position as he began to guide her through the forest of stone once more, his steps faster. They changed direction and even though there was no source of light, it seemed somewhat lighter in this corridor. She stared around in awe, then up to his face. Now at least she could see his features. And the dark blotch running down his temple. Another was on his side and his shirt seemed to be completely colored with blood. Irulan swallowed and looked ahead again. "Why must we hurry, Baeron?" she said, breathless with the effort of walking against the will of her body that only wanted to lie down and remain.

"Because the emergency exit will open only once. And will not remain so for long."

Her head turned sharply to him as they hopped on and another deep bang echoed in the silence of the tunnel. "What?! W-why not?"

Baeron took a deep breath and then broke into coughs once more. "Because I designed it that way," he wheezed several moments later. Irulan just stared at his dark face with disbelief and growing panic. He turned to smile down at her, and even with her limited vision and in these grave circumstances, the smile was fabulous. "Partly because the architecture requires it. It is a complicated thing, this tomb, and the opening of the emergency exit is a big strain on the structure." He looked around at the rumble for a moment. "I only hope that it will hold." Irulan just kept looking, now even more alarmed. What the hell did 'not long' mean? Exactly how long would it remain open, damn it? He turned back to her, once again smiling at her silent alarm. "But mostly...because I never thought I would end up using it, Irulan," he said in his usual lofty fashion and even tried to laugh to his statement. Which remained an effort.

They hopped on for a few more minutes and another, this time much louder sound came. Baeron arrived at a wall and his hands glided along it. Irulan remained behind, leaning into it. She heard the clicking of stone as some of the bricks seemed to give in. Nothing happened other than that. He returned, limping, and found her hand again, then pulled her further. "For the traps. They will not be activated," he said with a raspy voice.

They walked on and turned to squeeze through another, very narrow tunnel. Irulan ignored her claustrophobia and just walked on, the voice of Baeron betraying his worsening condition. She could not think of anything else. Then another chamber and just when she was beginning to believe that the pain in her ribs was simply too much to endure, Baeron stopped, heaving with effort. "What happened?" she said in alarm, looking up to him. He looked up, too and Irulan followed his gaze to the ceiling. "What happened?" she said again, not liking his silence.

"Nothing," he said a moment later, but it was not a nice tone and she did not like it a bit. "Now we will wait."

"Why don't we open the exit from here and leave?"

Baeron pursed his lips and let his gaze sweep over the chaotic cluster of boulders around him. "The exit can be opened from here or from the outside. But it would be useless to open it from here, for we will need Legolas to get out." He sighed and looked up, squinting his eyes as pale dust, freed from the floor by the friction of their steps, swirled gracefully and settled on his features and his hair. "Since it will hold open only for a limited time, it is wise to wait for his arrival."

She joined his inspection of the ceiling and only broke her gaze when Baeron cleared the smaller boulders to sit on a rather flat and raised surface, pulling her to sit beside him. "Will he come from above?"

"He will, Irulan," he said dismissively, gliding his fingers over her face and looking at her with tender passion.

She breathed deeply and tried to divert her thoughts from it. But it did not last long. "But...how can we climb to the ceiling?"

Baeron sighed a tired sigh and kissed her gently on the lips. "There were once steps here...but..." he shrugged with a grin, "...time deteriorates everything!" She just looked at him, her expression of alarm not changing at all. "Even us elves!" he said then, laughing again and this time it sounded right. That finally relaxed her a little.

He embraced her stronger and Irulan embraced him back, kissing his cheek. "How do you feel?" she said, capturing his handsome face between her hands.

"Never better," he said and leaned in to kiss her. There was a desperate and hungry edge to it, and under the circumstances that was only normal. Irulan herself was scared witless. She allowed his attempt, at this moment more than ready to do anything for him if it would make him feel any better. For moments they kissed and embraced, the darkness growing lighter because of it. And even though she loved Baeron...she realized once again that she was not IN love with him. You could only be in love with one person at a time...and well...she was in love with...with...

Irulan broke the kiss and closed her eyes, leaning her forehead on his lips. His hand stroked the back of her head as he pulled her further to himself. "It is all right," he said many moments later, gently rocking her. Irulan had no idea what he was talking about, but was only aware of her own frustration. 'Damn that man!' she thought, her frustration feeding her fury. 'Damn him!' Another sound emerged from above them and it sounded much closer, but Baeron did not bother to look up. "I know you love him and him alone," he said softly and she grew rigid in his arms, her eyes popping open.

"No!" she whispered in protest, leaning back to look at him, "No, Baeron! I-..."

He silenced her with another kiss and she didn't possess the strength to fight it as a strange shame rose in her – the shame of not being able to give him what he needed. "It's all right, King-daughter," he said once more when he broke away. Irulan swallowed and blinked to suppress the water that swam back into her eyes, again. He caressed her cheek, his hazel eyes inhuman again. "You were promised to him. I knew that all along. But..." he sighed momentarily, "...that doesn't mean I wanted it to be different."

Still not sure of his meaning she just shook her head, then cast it down in shame. Her hand flew up to cover her face as she gave in to crying – a more agonizing but calmer ache came over her heart as his hands glided over her shoulders, her arms and through her long, dusted hair. "Do not cry. All will be well."

She shook her head again, in protest to all and embraced him fiercely. "I don't care! I will stay with you. With you, Baeron!"

He chuckled to that for a while. "That would be wrong, Irulan. For he loves you, too."

"I don't care!" she exclaimed, a slight echo issuing from that. Her grip on him grew stronger as his arms glided around her back, embracing her in return.

"Come now," was the gentle and amused reply, "don't be childish. You cannot win this battle. Submit to your Fate, Irulan."

"I will not!" was her determined hiss and Baeron only laughed in reply.

"Aragorn's kin indeed!" he said, kissing her neck. Another sound echoed from above and this time both looked up, because it sounded as if it had come from right above them. When she looked down again Baeron was gazing at her with those penetrating eyes. He did not break it as his hand came up to wipe away a lock from her face and Irulan sniffed silently. "Know this," he whispered, "I do not regret. Not a single thing. If such was the price for your touch, I would pay it again and again Irulan...without a second thought."

"What are you saying?" she said, her voice breaking and her eyes widening with alarm. He did not answer and another stone shifted above them, as some loose earth rained down in the dim glow of the chamber, but neither looked away from the other.

He found her hand and kissed it. "That I had a fabulous time. And that I was blessed with a fantastic life. I hold no regrets for anything, only the regret that I did not meet you sooner, daughter of Kings."

Her eyes widened even further. "W-what...you HAD..." her hand grasped the front of his shirt with fury. "What the hell is that suppose to mean?!" she hissed.

Baeron kissed her in reply. And never had anyone kissed her like that before. It was like a word in another language – full with meaning and history, but beyond her grasp. It was important, and she wanted so much to understand it! The want bloomed in her like indescribable need and for the first time, she kissed him back with the fever of it, as if that action would help her to conceive it. No understanding came. Only the end of the kiss.

Irulan remained baffled while the elf looked up when a soft tremble shook the chamber and a rectangular piece of column moved up an inch or two, then aside. She watched in fascination as it simply glided away, though there was nowhere for it to glide into – the ceiling around it remained intact and didn't stir. But there it was....the square of a meter of thick, solid stone moving aside as if there was a hollow opening on the side, waiting for the block to glide in. A ray of artificial light landed on them and a moment later was blocked by an object. Irulan blinked and slowly regaining her senses, looked up to see the outline of Legolas' head above them, at the end of a rectangular small tunnel that sliced through a rather thick ceiling. It seemed impossibly far up and she had never thought the ceiling to be so thick!

"Baeron! Irulan! Are you well?!" his voice echoed through the dark room and though Irulan was not aware of it at the moment, her heart trembled with the perception of it.

"We are, Legolas," Baeron replied.

A short silence followed. "/Where are the steps?/" Legolas said in elvish several moments later.

Baeron sighed. "/They are no more, my Lord/"

Another silence followed. Irulan glanced from one elf to the other and back, growing more alarmed by the moment. Why would they speak elvish? In a time like this! Damnable men!

Legolas did not say anything at all, though time was ticking away and he was very aware of it. Finally Baeron hauled himself up, grimacing with pain but not halting for it. He pulled Irulan up, too and hopped to stand right below the opening. "I will push her up," he said. "My arms have the strength. You must lean further down to grasp her hand." Legolas did not move for another moment. "/I know you have no rope/," Baeron said then, his voice not gaining expression at all.

"/I have my shirt/," came the reply, "/If you jump, you can grasp it/."

"/Nay, my Lord. I can not jump/," was the matter-of-fact reply.

Again Legolas did not move as Baeron turned and pulled Irulan into a short embrace. "I will take you on my shoulder, Irulan. And Legolas will lean down to grasp you. But we must be quick. Are you ready?"

She nodded and as he was about to lift her when suddenly she grasped his arm in alarm. "Wait! What about you?" The elf just stared at her blankly. It was an expression that she had come to understand and hate in them. "No!" she whispered in alarm, her fingers digging into his arm unconsciously, "No! No, I will not go!" She tried to free herself from his grasp but his elven hold was steel. "No! I will not leave you behind!"

Baeron shook her lightly and gazed into her eyes. She stopped despite herself at the very inhuman stare in those eyes. "You will go, King-daughter!" he commanded and no one had spoken to her with such power, before. No one…not even Legolas! A moment passed as she just stared back agape. A slight tremble shook the chamber but none of the three responded to it. "Irulan," he said a moment later, his voice softer, but still strained, "long have I waited for this. Longer than you will ever understand. It is my time."

"No," she cried, weakly trying again, though by now she knew that she had no chance of breaking away.

"It is, King-daughter," he said gently, his free hand gliding down her cheek and cupping her face. "There is no death for elves. Only relief and rest. I have much longed for it." Irulan sobbed openly now, her fear becoming real with every word and killing her moment by moment. "And I am glad that it I take my parting with you, lovely, lovely Irulan."

This time she just embraced him stronger instead of trying to break free. Her nails dug into his back. "I will not let you! I will not let you die!"

"Ah," he said in weak amusement, "I certainly hope so!" To her dismay, he pried her off himself with the ease of peeling off a little baby. She was crying too hard to fight him, at this point and he cupped her face as another, this time slightly stronger rumble shook the chamber. Again, all three ignored it. "Remember me, King-daughter," he said then. A moment passed between them and this time Irulan did feel it when the air between them shifted. His eyes expanded and covered the whole room, then Egypt itself and finally the world. She submitted willingly, reaching to him across an ocean of hazel as he reached to her. Somewhere along that infinite vastness they touched.

Irulan stood in an open valley, the navy dome above her majestic beyond words. Never had she seen a sky so big. And with so many stars! Her eyes darted frantically, trying to take in all the vision, though it was too large to be seen all. Her stomach turned with that odd feeling – the feeling of falling as she gazed to the diamonds scattered in the dark blue-black ocean above her head.

At that very moment a hand held hers and both warmth and immense tranquility spread through her with that simple touch. She turned around and found herself side by side with Baeron. Very slowly her features broke into surprise as his broke into amusement. He looked different. His blonde hair was long – longer than Legolas' and braided to keep it back from his face. Her mouth dropped open and her gaze slowly glided down, taking in his attire that was very different from anything she had seen before. A long moment passed until Irulan instinctively slowly looked back up and was even more shocked to see his pointed ears. He looked absolutely fantastic this way. Yes, Baeron was an amazingly handsome man. But now he was beyond that....he was...natural. And that just made him...no...she had no words for it. So she would not try to describe it.

A long moment later he smiled and her breath hitched. His grasp on her hand tightened and Irulan could swear that she grew dizzy with that. A warm breeze came up and instantly her focus shifted, for there was a scent in that breeze. Her eyes shut involuntarily and a frown came over her face as she tried to place it in her mind. So fresh it was...so vivid...and soft. Like the smell of forest and nature, but ten times stronger then what she had experience before. Or perhaps the air itself was much clearer.

She inhaled deeply and opened her eyes again. Yes...this was a clearing of some sort. At the edge of a forest. The trees were like nothing she had seen before. Even with the great distance between them, they were each gigantic and strangely glimmering. Or wet-like. So vivid with life...so healthy that their colors shone in the navy blue of the night and the white glimmer of the stars.

It was then that she realized all the other figures standing in the clearing with herself and Baeron. All with long hair and beautiful, flowing attires that lazily ruffled in the warm, fragrant gust. Her eyes washed over the company and her heart began to beat faster at the realization of the fact that these were elves. Hundreds of them standing scattered in perfect silence.

Baeron gently squeezed her hand again and she looked up at him to see him turn his gaze skyward. As did all others. Irulan looked up as well, the reality of the vision incredible to the last detail. Nothing happened for a moment or two. Then a star glided down and she held her breath with that sight. 'I should make a wish!' she thought, a childish excitement taking over her psyche. And just when she saw the second light run down the dome of the sky, she heard it.

First it was like a sound of nature – so dim and natural and low. Then another added to it. And yet a third. And before she could understand the happenings, a chorus of incredibly gentle might rose around her. It began like a hum. And there was a hum to it, too. But then words fell in between those hums, and a melody like no other bloomed, like a shy flower, opening its thin, unused petals. She froze, not daring to breathe as the sea of elves broke into a song, there was simply no way to tell it in human terms.

The rolling of waves...the thunder of wild horse herds running across plains...the storm tackling tree branches...the white avalanche of high mountains...the gurgling of spring rivers...the roar of forest fires...the howling of wild beasts in the night - it was all this and much, much more. She breathed again, the glory and the beauty of it simply too overwhelming for her puny senses. Out of sheer adoration and astonishment, she began to cry silent tears of happiness, her heart hurting with pleasure.

And there was more! Somewhere along that song, she realized that she understood the words. Understood them as if they were spoken in English. Irulan would have laughed at the wonder at it, but at the moment, it was beyond her to do so. Her gaze lifted to the sky again, for an amazing display of light and color was here. Stars...dozens of stars glided through the darkness over and over again. Once, many years ago she had observed a similar thing as a meteorite shower had rained on the Earth. Harmless, of course, but very strange and beautiful. But that held not comparison to this. It could not even come close.

"/Behold, oh the beauty of Life/!" the elves sang and her eyes fluttered at the incredible pleasure of hearing that song while more and more lights flew above her, leaving a slight and swiftly fading mark behind. So many! So many!

"/Behold, oh the beauty of the world!

Behold, the gift of Life!

The touch of Time is upon us

The touch of Time is upon us,

Behold, the beauty of Life/!"

The warm scent washed over her again and Baeron held her hand as the melody grew in beauty and the stars fell...they fell...they fell........

She did not feel it when Baeron lifted her with the ease of lifting a child. She did not realize it as she stepped on his shoulders and slowly rose to stand upright. Her eyes were glazed, her mind stolen as she found herself in the narrow tunnel and even though she looked up to see the outline of Legolas reaching down to her as another gentle rumble shook the tomb, she neither thought, nor felt. His hand reached down to her as he glided down till his waist and when her hand reached up to him, it was not a conscious move. Legolas grasped her wrist and she held his. That was when their eyes locked and the world of the past and the world of the present collided in her mind, one shifting onto the other.

Legolas pulled back and pulled Irulan with him when the tomb shook again and he knew that the time was too short now. He swiftly lifted himself out completely and placing his knee on the stone floor, pulled her as easily as pulling out a two year old girl. Irulan appeared out of the hole, dazed and shocked and covered in dust. He gently placed her aside and she remained exactly as placed, like a broken doll crying in silence. Legolas looked down again and his gaze collided with the other elf.

"/Baeron, I tried the front entry, but the spiral staircase is almost completely gone/."

The other elf made a sound that seemed suspiciously like a snort. And indeed, when he looked up, that mischievous look was back in his hazel orbs. He shrugged. "No wonder none of my work survived till this day. I was a lousy architect/."

Legolas, more annoyed by his humor than relieved by it, did not return his smile. "/You must try/!" he seethed instead, frustrated as his gaze involuntarily roamed the chamber to find something –anything- of use!

Another soft rumble shook and Baeron's smile finally gained a somber edge. "/Nay, Lord Legolas. My time has come. I wish to stay/," was his late and gentle reply. The other elf just looked back in shock and anger. He was too experienced to ignore the fact that the Scout looked far too injured to make it beyond his own estate, even if he succeeded in climbing out. But his mind refused to accept that fact and in his own desire to ignore it, his fingers embedded into the rim of the opening and turned white as his stare assumed the elven blankness to hide the pain underneath it, like the ocean covering and hiding an entire civilization. Baeron sighed a tired sigh and glanced around him. "/You saved me once in a battle long forgotten. Now, after an ocean of time, I have come to save what is dear to you. Perhaps we are even, my friend/?" he said in amusement.

Legolas swallowed hard. "/We are not even, Baeron/," came finally his reply, "/I will be indebted to you for all times/."

The Scout laughed then – a tired, yet relieved laugh. Then stillness set between them as both grew silent with the realization of the remaining moments. Their eyes met again and neither spoke at first. What can you say at a moment like this? "/I have missed her much/," Baeron said finally, his voice merely a whisper in the silence of the tomb. "/I will go to my Queen now. Go with yours, Legolas/."

Legolas closed his eyes afraid that he would cry. Never would he cry now – the pain would only invoke pain in return from Baeron. "/Forgive me/," he managed to choke out finally.

"/Ah/," was the amused response, "/Only if you forgive ME/." Another moment passed and the stones shifted as the square began to shake and move to its former place. "/May your path be clear. And may we meet again/."

"/In this life or the other, Baeron/," Legolas whispered as the stone shifted and sat on its place with a loud clang, hiding the smiling elf below from sight for all times.

The deep sound of stone finding rest upon stone made her blink and wake up. It was a real effort to return to the current time and place. She looked up and found Legolas looking back at her. Everything felt strange...languid and slow. As if she was underwater. What should she feel? She felt everything, and as a result, nothing.

In her stead, Legolas felt, and his feelings sizzled, fanned out and engulfed the narrow but tall stone corridor they were sitting in, the blue and cold light of two flash lamps the only source of illumination. Such delicate regret...such brittle ache...such numbing love. Irulan slowly swallowed and took a deep, ragged breath.

There was nothing to say.

So she began to cry. Out of sheer desperation. And anger. And regret. And hate. She hung her head and cried like she had never cried before. She felt him by her side then, embracing her. She wanted to push him away. Instead she held on to him as if holding on to her dear life. Legolas did the same, embracing her with a strong grip. She wanted to curse him out and tell him of her deep hatred for him. Instead she buried her face into his neck while he spoke soothing words with a shaky breath. Perhaps he was crying, too - she did not know. All she knew was that the world was ending and this man was her only anchor.

Time deserted them. Perhaps hours passed. Or maybe it was just minutes before he finally rose to his feet and lifted her in his arms. Again she wanted to tell him that she needed no such assistance. Instead she embraced his shoulders and buried her face into his chest, her crying gaining a silent and softer edge. He walked and she did not look up where to. At one point the dim shadow of the interior ended and bright daylight washed over them, along with heat.

She was placed into the car that stood before the mansion and Legolas cupped her face in his hands, speaking. He had to repeat himself several times before Irulan managed to grasp the words and understood that he meant for her to wait here while he would go back and close the mansion entrance of the tomb. She nodded like a puppet and after one last, worried glance he departed with haste.

As she sat alone in the car, numbed and careless, her eyes glided to the horizon and met the baffling red of a dying day. A fury at the disinterest of the rest of the world to what had happened here, bloomed in her. Along with the strangest relief. 'Every storm will come and pass,' echoed in her head as Irulan watched the sun gliding towards a slow and beautiful death in the horizon.

Another day was ending in Egypt.

Nothing would ever be the same.

***

It took Irulan weeks to overcome the shock of both the Sharing and the death of Baeron. She remembered very little from those days and it remained a fragment of time loaded with blurred, vague images. A time when she slept throughout the day and thought about her dreams when she lay awake in the nighttime. She remembered visions of elves. Along with Baeron's laughter when he had carried her into the ocean in Tunisia. The scent of the ocean was followed by the feeling of his hand running through her hair. Irulan would shiver and wake up to see Legolas sitting at the edge of her bed, his hand completing the action. He would speak to her, lulling her to sleep and before long she would dream of a slender woman with long, raven hair and dark skin, then a meteorite shower, and of Arwen burning on a pile of woods; of Legolas killing a giant spider with Aragorn's dull blade and herself standing on the windy Cerin Amroth. Again she would blink and wake up to the sound of stone gliding on stone and sitting in its place with a dull bang. Again Legolas would be by her side, caressing her cheeks, speaking in elvish.

After nine battered days her mind finally stilled. The fever that had been burning her left her limbs and Irulan breathed, feeling health returning to her body. She would still cry every now and then, out of sheer longing and regret and guilt. Legolas would stand by silently, caressing her back and looking downright disgusted at himself. Many times she saw tears in his eyes as well, but if he shed those, he did so alone.

He took her on daily walks in the castle and the gardens. The winter days would not allow them to stay long, but Irulan loved the strolls and remained thankful for them. All in all, the two weeks she spent with Legolas passed with tender idleness. He kept his respectful distance and often she thought he looked downright anxious and timid - something she would never expect him to look. As a matter of fact from time to time she caught him in hesitation and in indecision – she felt his longing to touch her and observed him giving in to defeat and pulling back, at a loss of heart to do so.

And Irulan did not give him the courage. She liked it this way. It was easier. She could think better when his fingers did not enflame her skin or his lips did not spin her mind. And she thought a lot in the last few days, when her mind seemed to function clearer and the images of the past days along with the images of the Sharing vanished into the mist. She thought about everything, but mostly she thought about herself. About what kind of person she was. What kind of person she wanted to be. In the dim, warm silence of her castle room, she lay in the dark and thought about her past. Legolas -who never seemed to sleep or do anything else than be with her- would observe her and often ask what she was thinking about.

Irulan would tell him, then. And he would prop up on his elbow, lying next to her, and listen in deep silence. Every fiber in his body would burn with the desire to touch her, but he held back, sinking his determination into his body like one sinks in a sharp, big blade. Too ashamed and shaken he was for such an action. At this moment all he could hope for was that she would not hate him. For he was certain that his heart could not take the pain if she did.

"What day is it today?" she said as he combed through her hair. Once again, rain was falling on the windowpane and the distant, shrill song of the wind was audible.

"It is Wednesday," Legolas said gently. Neither spoke for several moments and the whine outside continued while the warmth in the room was comforting and relaxing. The soft splatter of rain drummed on. The fireplace danced merrily and as Irulan watched the flames, memories of her first Sharing came to her. They held no anxiety or alarm. Only the pain that accompanied every time she thought of Baeron. She cast her eyes down, drawing invisible designs on her bedspread.

"Friday will be a good day for parting. I can tell," was her quiet statement.

Legolas froze behind her. The moment he heard the words, he knew that he had been expecting them. He also knew that it was simply beyond his power to accept them. He remained unmoving, a slow, sizzling heat spreading through his entire body. He looked down at his hands and was momentarily surprised by the fact that they were not shaking. "Irulan," he managed to whisper with a hoarse voice, but got no further. The urge to scream, cry and protest was incredible. "Do not desert me," he managed to add many moments later.

"I am not deserting you," she said, almost gently. Her face remained hidden from him and at this moment he was glad that it was. "I am parting from you."

"Please," he sighed, his voice breaking. The fire burned on and on and he was certain that he himself was burning from the inside out.

"Legolas...it is over," she whispered in reply. So engulfed in his own alarm and helpless fear he was, that she did not hear the same hoarseness in her tone. "You are...too much. I am too weak. I cannot carry this."

He did not know how it happened, but a moment later he was sitting on the edge, across from her and the brush had vanished from his grasp. "I will change! I regret my actions more than I can tell. I will change Irulan!" he said hastily, open begging in his voice.

Her fingers glided over his cheeks. She did not realize it at that moment but it was what Baeron used to do to her. "My heart aches, too," she whispered, gazing into his eyes that spoke of terror and alarm. "But...I do not have the strength. Nor do I have the will. Release me if you love me."

"Irulan," he breathed, then swallowed hard as his hands, that had finally begun to shake, enfolded hers. "I know that I hold no place in your heart any longer." She parted her lips to speak, but he placed his fingers on her mouth, stilling her – his first intimate act weeks. "After what I have done, it is only fair. But...I will regain it. I promise!" he whispered with urgency, his fingers squeezing hers. "I promise! I will change. For you, I will! I'll be anything you want! I'll do anything. Please...don't leave me..." his voice trailed off into a sob that Legolas bit down ferociously, struggling for control and at the same time struggling for the loss of it.

Irulan sighed and looked to the window. The gloomy light of the day had not changed and matched her mood perfectly. "I have thought much about us these last days." She turned back to him and he remained, his head hung, unable to meet her gaze, his figure trembling. "About you. About me." Her fingers glided over his face and Legolas swallowed again, but did not look up or move other than that. "If my heart would listen to my senses, it would have stopped loving you a long time ago." A short silence as a smile crawled up her lips. "But my stupid little heart is deaf to my calls. Always was. Always will be." She bit her lower lip, watching his terrible state before she added "But you must understand – I cannot be with you." Legolas shook his head in denial, his eyes fixed on the bed sheet as his fingers grasped it, curling into a fist. "Too much has happened," Irulan exhaled. "Too many things that we cannot pretend to overlook."

"Time will change that," was his hoarse whisper of a reply.

"Perhaps," she sighed as he finally lifted up his eyes to her. "Or perhaps not. I don't know. All I know is that I must go."

"Time changes everything, Irulan," he said, his voice strained. She could not remember seeing this sort of pain in anyone's gaze and a part of her wanted to stay, just to make him happy. But how could she make him happy when she was not Irulan anymore? When she was broken apart and re-pasted into something completely alien? He did not understand. He thought she was still the same woman. But she wasn't. Never would be. "In time you can forgive me, though I will never forgive myself." His right hand found hers once more and even his touch was full with pleading. "I wish I could change the past! I wish it so much!" he whispered, his eyes sparkling both with determination and unshed tears. "I wish I could go back not to merely weeks ago, but to millennia ago and undo my actions! To undo my stupidity! To undo my work of ignorance!" He sighed and briefly closed his eyes. "But...," was his defeat of a whisper, "I cannot. Forever I am cursed to live with its memory."

"Legolas," she said gently, combing through his hair, "don't think that you are the only one who makes mistakes. So long you have lived and I cannot imagine that any other could have made fewer mistakes than you have, in all this time!" He gazed at her with pure pain and she continued. "You said it yourself and you were right – you are not god. I am sure that Baeron forgives you. And Bentanta, too."

He took a sharp breath, his gaze locked to hers, unmoving. "And you, Irulan?" he exhaled, almost inaudibly.

"I do, too," she said a long moment later.

"Then remain!" he hissed with urgency, grasping her hand once more and shifting to sit closer. "Remain and I shall prove to you that I am ready to do anything you want, Irulan. Anything!"

Irulan looked down on the bed between them and for many moments only the rain spoke, the dull sound filling the room. The smallest of hopes flickered alive in Legolas. A tiny flame. It was extinguished too soon. She looked up and the determination in her dark orbs rendered him speechless. "No. I cannot do this. I WILL not do this. It is over, Legolas."

"No," he whispered and a distant part of his brain told him how ridiculous he must look at this moment. But the major part of his brain only registered the look in her eyes. The look of Aragorn. "I love you," he whispered, his fingers gliding over her face, her arms, her hands, her chest and back. "No one but you." She did not answer, but looked away. He did not cease his caress of her, his expression crowded with passion, love, dread, regret, longing, sorrow and fear. "More each moment. Further each day." A moment passed and he found her chin, gently turning it to himself. Her eyes fluttered and found his. Very slowly, with the caution one would show in holding a butterfly wing, he leaned in, his lids closing. Irulan did not draw back or resist. His lips brushed over hers, and her eyes closed as well.

The oh so familiar taste. The incredible flame. The great, tidal longing. The slightest distance sprang forth between them as he pulled back a little, and right after that, the tide returned, as did the taste. His lips moved as if in gentle speech. And maybe it was a speech. Of hunger. Of need. Of sweet surrender.

Before long they were kissing. Tender and gentle, like the first rays of the brightest morning. His fingers found her nape, wandering down her spine, all the way to her waist. So incredible this woman. Everything he wanted and everything he needed, pulled and wrapped into this little, magnificent package. He did not have the words to speak the love in his heart.

Too soon it was over and she drew away, melting between his fingers and disappearing. He opened his eyes and knew what this meant. It was worse than death.

"I love you too," she whispered, but the words fell like the wings of dead butterflies. "But it's not enough, Legolas." He swallowed, his heart tearing apart so tangibly, that he thought blood must stain his shirt any moment. He shook his head, not finding words to say. Her fingers cupped his cheek as her eyes found the beautiful gaze. "Release me," she whispered.

He shook his head again. 'This must be what death is like!' he thought, the agony defying all words. "I...I cannot," he whispered in perfect terror, grabbing her shoulders and embracing her. She did not resist and melted against him. "I won't!" She said nothing and he began to place urgent, hasty kisses on her cheeks, almost frantic. "I won't! This will all pass, Irulan. Tomorrow is a new day. We will be better, my love!" She said nothing and he embraced her again, perhaps a little too strong. "I won't let go. Never!"

Irulan sighed and placed her head on his shoulder. "This is goodbye," she whispered, feeling relaxed as he kept his caress of her back. "Let us set the battlements on fire."

Very slowly a mist dwindled into the room, then. It seeped through the walls, the ceiling and the floor. It swirled, turned and glided, slowly filling out the chamber. She inhaled and let it settle into her as Legolas embraced her stronger.

It thickened further and further – a chaotic array of clouds, dancing a soft waltz, gliding along the walls, caressing the carpet, tenderly settling around the bed. When it parted, two figures remained, their stance tense and speaking of dislike as they faced each other, an evident glare on their faces.

The woman raised her eyes and met the cold blue gaze of the man. "You are a child, Irulan," he said, his voice frosty and distant. "So is your kind. Children playing with fire."

Irulan clenched her jaws. A flicker of flame surged through her. "I think you underestimate me, elf!" she spat as a gasp of shock rose from the invisible crowd. Perhaps she should feel ashamed, but at this moment all she could feel was satisfaction. Especially since Legolas' expression turned into one of dumbfounded surprise.

However, it lasted too short. A moment later an unexpected grin of pleasure appeared on his features and a shock ran through her when his hand grasped hers. "Is that so?" he mused, his eyes speaking of self-confidence and irritating charm. "Valiant words. For someone so afraid," was the whispery addition before he placed a single kiss on the back of it, his gaze still locked to hers.

She tore her hand away, blushing despite her best wishes. The elf regarded her coolly, not de-motivated by the action at all. "If you deny me now, you only prove me right in the matter of your kind," he stated calmly. "But deny me later…and my vote lies with yours."

Irulan just stared at him agape, words erased from her mind. A flock of birds passed above them as Legolas turned away, gazing into the orange sunset that bled on the Coliseum. She watched in confusion as he sighed deeply, his eyes narrowing as if he was not looking at the structure, but the past itself. "Why the past? It is gone and dead for all times," was his almost inaudible murmur.

Irulan, too, placed her hands on the rusty railing, standing beside him. "YOU are alive, Legolas," she said and he glanced at her, for the first time looking sad and tired. "The past lives in you."

He nodded, casting his face down and she felt alarmed by his sudden sorrow and his hidden agony. She waited in indecision until a whisper fell from his lips, as gentle as the heat of autumn in Italy. "But none has loved me," he said the terror in his voice strange to Irulan's ears, "and no one ever will."

He turned his back to her, meaning to walk away, but the cold command in Irulan's voice stopped him in mid-track. "I am Aragorn's kin!" she seethed between her teeth. "You will NOT refuse my pledge, Legolas!"

She walked up to him and grasped his arm, forcing him to turn around. And Baeron obliged, looking down at her with mesmerized eyes. Hazel locked into brown and she did not see it coming but before she knew, his hand traveled up and then dived into her hair, slowly combing through it with one fluid, gentle motion. Irulan remained shocked, staring at his amused expression, speechless at such a bold gesture. His fingers completed the journey and only after that, they moved to grasp hers. She blinked and turned to look down at their entwined grasp as he placed the napkin into her palm and folded her fingers upon it. "Hope is a mighty force, King-daughter," he said as the flames of the candles that scattered in the exotic restaurant played on his sharp, handsome features.

Irulan looked back at their locked grip, shifting with discomfort. His other hand cupped her cheek and before she knew it, Legolas kissed her. Something exploded in her with that kiss that felt like a combination of lightning and the touch of rose petals on her lips. "I love you, Irulan," came his soft voice when he drew back and her eyes opened to meet the blue fire of Legolas as he gazed at her with unspeakable passion. Mesmerized, she gazed up to him, her heart back to a time when she was six years old and when the world was a different place. A dazzling smile took his lips. "I have led you out of the mist," he said, drawing a graceful arc in the air and a dark night along with the overview of a gleeful crowd of distant city lights, basked in a childish Masquerade came into view momentarily as the haze parted with that gesture.

Irulan's eyes took in the scenery before they settled on him once more. "I love you too, Legolas," she whispered, her hands trailing down the hard surface of the Gondorian armor that he wore, her fingers tracing the pearly shimmer of the White Tree emblem. "And I am yours to take."

He locked eyes with her and his blue gaze covered the heavens, burning her skin with the most pleasurable fire and Irulan trembled underneath it, knowing that she had reached the summit of her entire life and all was doomed to live in the shadow of this day forever. "In you, I have found all," he said in return, his voice a melody. "A confidant for my secrets. A listener to my tales. A lover to my heart."

Irulan dropped the heavy iron blade from her hand, never unlocking her eyes from him. "Give me your pain, then," she said, her voice ringing in the silence of the room, bouncing off the weapons on the walls.

Instead, Legolas cupped her cheek and leaned in for another kiss and excruciating pleasure and sharp love cut through her entire body when their lips met. He placed warm, lazy kisses on her cheeks and on her neck, encircling her until he stood right behind her, his arm secured around her waist. "You cannot leave, Irulan," he whispered into her ear. "I dare not let you go. Stay with me."

A sigh of frustration escaped her lips. She unclasped his grasp and stepped away, then turned to face him. Baeron stood before her in his immaculate beauty, his playful eyes sparkling in the dark. "Are you sure you made the right choice, Irulan?" he said slowly. "No one is perfect. Neither are elves."

Irulan bit her lip and looked away. "I am not a toy of Fate!" she seethed a moment later.

"Alas, we are all toys of Fate," Baeron sighed in return and crossed his arms on his chest, glancing towards the sparkling blue water. "I fear this frailty, Irulan," he murmured, squinting his eyes. "Everything so grave and important will be nothing but air some day."

Terror ran through her and she grasped his hand. "No, Baeron! This day is not lost. I will carry it always. As will you!" she hissed, eager to soothe him and herself.

He looked down at her then and she swallowed with the look in his eyes. His right hand found her temple and his touch spoke books. "Remember me, King-daughter," he whispered.

Irulan closed her eyes and threw her arms around him. Sobs rose in her throat and she gave in to them, crying into Legolas' shoulder as sobbed into hers. "This is goodbye," she whispered again, "Let us set the battlements on fire."

The mist of the past engulfed them and left no room for the future.

The page stood fully written – dark blotches of ink ran into words and from these words sprang lines of sketches of a man braiding a woman's hair, or a beach adorned with spidery trees, a mighty ship visible in the distance as two figures walked towards it in the sand. Some lines were scratched out, rewritten in haste while others went on perfect – without a single correction. Some spoke of the past and some of the present. Some spoke of sorrow and others of joy. There was a tiny, hasty drawing of a man sitting in a bed, his back on the bed board while another one was facing him on a chair and distant flags fluttered in a far off tower. More words...promises, hopes, battle cries, sighs of defeat. Then a clumsy array of strokes that looked like a tall and a short figure, lying on their mattresses, facing a fire in a crowded forest. Other sentences followed, gracefully written, the letters like a piece of art. A small sketch of the lotus flower was squeezed between two paragraphs that spoke of love and longing. A disarray of letters, heavy droplets of ink, more words, more wild drawings...until there was nothing to write, draw, sketch, scribble upon and all was covered and filled. 

Fate glanced down at it and the left corner of her lips curled up ever so slightly in satisfaction. She ran her fingers over the leaf and words, emotions, silent prayers, sighs, wails sparked to life underneath the touch of the Great Artist, their whispers fanning out in echoes in the silent room. She inhaled gently once and a tinge of contentment was in it – a beautiful story this was and she was happy with her work.

Then her long fingers reached out to turn the page and glided over the blank cream colored parchment. Nothing spoke, sighed, sobbed, hoped, fought. It stood empty as can be - untouched and new. A slight frown settled on her immaculate features and for a moment she hesitated, her gaze wandering around the chamber. A large canvas was stuffed into a corner, the painting not complete, the colors in the process of drying. Other such paintings were stacked dismissively here and there – a woman releasing a little basket into a stream, tears on her face as she looked at it. Another showed a violent massacre somewhere in the Far East, and the crimson of blood was so perfect that it held the eye. An uncountable number of parchments, scrolls, leather-bound books were lying around – some left open, others stacked neatly on shelves. There were woven carpets, rolled and placed away, or half completed, waiting in dust. Pages with symbols of musical notes jutted out here and there, waiting for the last tune of a symphony or silent with the satisfaction of being complete. Even sculptures – bronze, iron, clay, wood, glass- stood frozen, speaking of Her unsurpassed skill, its perfection evident in everything She touched.

Her eyes found the empty page in front of her once more and the feather was tapped onto her perfect lips. Then another brief moment of hesitation, and before long, a quick dab of the pen into the ink. The very air stilled became heavy with excited expectance. But she neither noticed, nor cared, her mind engulfed only in the passion of creating.

The feather's tip touched the leaf.

Behold – a tale was born where before there was none.

THE END