A/N: Holy Shit. I'm actually posting 76. there's only this and 77 and then I have to start writing as I go again! But these next to, 76 and 77, are 2 my favorites.I put lots of work into them and they are long ass chapters, be thankful. Hehe.I really hope u like, b/c I think these in particular are awesome..Legomance here, beware.Thanks to all my reviewers! Please read and review, people! It really improves the quality of my life.. Oh yeah, and as far as I'm concerned, Legolas is a virgin. If u disagree, sorry, but that's how it'll be here. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part 76

Legolas lay awake in his bed, a pale moonbeam falling through the window. His soul convicting, glassy blue eyes looked into nothingness as he thought. His platinum blonde hair lay over his shoulders flowing, mimicking the moon in her light. His chest rose and fell as he breathed, calm and steady but not yet heavy with sleep. His rose colored lips were slightly parted, tender and full in the absence of a kiss.

He thought of Thaurnoviel; the unearthly fair she-Elf she had been, the ever-loyal friend, the fiery-spirited warrior and archer of Mirkwood, the mind-blowing kisser she had been.

Legolas and Thaurnoviel had never made love, for they had never married. Although, they had been engaged for a short time before her death. Legolas was still pure, having saved himself for her, his true love, and kept himself untouched even after her passing. He often imagined, however, that she was a wonderful lover.

Legolas had first laid eyes on Thaurnoviel when he was 1,642 years old. He had been the prince with a kindred spirit that his father had loved so much, but the fire had noticeably faded once she had gone. That afternoon, Legolas had ridden with a band of soldiers, patrolling Mirkwood's southern border. After an uneventful day, they had stopped for a rest and to feast on a deer that Legolas' friend, Helothgael, had brought down. They Elves had been at ease, laughing and enjoying each other's company. Their mirth filled faces swam in Legolas' mind.

They had fallen quiet, however, when the approaching sound of hooves had reached their Elven ears. The warriors had taken up their bows and spears and had soundlessly moved through the wood to the very borderline of Mirkwood. There they waited until the riders came into view, visibly their own kin. Legolas beheld Thaurnoviel at the head of her band of Elves, astride a magnificent dapple gray mare with a coat that shone like silver. Her face had been solemn, but had in no way diminished her beauty. Her long, dark hair had rippled in the young winter wind against the gray, overcast,and sky.

In the season called //Ethuil//, Legolas' favorite season, their romance had blossomed after a courtship that had lasted all winter. They had danced at the banquets and the balls, practiced archery in the twilight of dawn, and had ridden in the moonlit evenings. They had walked the paths of Mirkwood and through the royal gardens, Legolas' haven. In the golden afternoons would they smile and laugh quietly among the //mallos// and the //alfirin// and the //elanor//. In fields of wildflowers would they lie and watch the clouds. Legolas remembered her smile, her ageless face framed by long wisps of honey brown hair, her sun kissed skin like velvet beneath his fingertips. His most cherished memories were that of their time spent in the wood, hunting, walking, climbing trees, or lying in their boughs and shade. There was one tall and great tree in the depths of the forest that had been their own since their first winter and called //Alwen Kirban// by them, or Tree Haven. And a lovely, verdant glade there was that they named //Laer Meleth//, Summer Love, where they had first proclaimed their love to one another and where Legolas had proposed. There too had Thaurnoviel bound herself to he.

They had stood in the middle of the glade, the silver light of the pale moon shining down upon them and giving them an ethereal glow. With her slender hands in his, she had looked up at him with her long-lashed, warm, dark eyes and softly she had said,

" Wilt thou listen to me, my prince? "

" I would listen to the sweet music of thy voice forever, milady ", he had replied. She had smiled and blushed faintly.

"//Legolas, Im mel le// ", she had said plainly.*Legolas, I love you.* " Im iest na no lin hiril an-uir// ", she had told him.*I wish to be thy lady forever.* Thaurnoviel had lifted her hands out of his and had brought them around her neck to unclasp her necklace. She had held it out to him, the rain drop pendant made of //ithildin// glimmering when it had caught the moonlight.

" Na le, Im anno sen ", she had said. " A Im gwedi anim na le." *To you, I give this. And I bind myself to you.*

Legolas had looked upon her then with shining blue eyes.

" Le turu anno sen ", he had replied.*You cannot give me this.* She had swiftly brought her hand up to his lips to silence him. Thaurnoviel had smiled and had clasped the necklace around his neck. He had worn the Nirlhendrhoss //Tear of Sweet Rain// from that day forward. Still it lay o'er his heart.

Her death had been untimely, unjust. It had been the most wounding blow ever dealt the Mirkwood prince. A part of him had died that day with Thaurnoviel. The light of his eyes had been dimmed, and joy had been lost to him. Mirkwood had mourned the Sweet Rain with a passion, and a beautiful lament had been written in her honor. Legolas remembered the despaired voices, singing it during her funeral. He had lit the four candles, one at each corner of her pyre, and had suffered to look upon her as he spoke the ritual words.

" Naur na lin ind ", he had choked in grief.

A flame for thy heart. The first candle lit.

" Naur na lin lith." A flame for thy ashes. The second candle lit.

" Naur na lin man." A flame for thy departed spirit. The third candle lit.

" Naur na Menel." A candle for Heaven. The last candle lit.

For a long moment of silence, save the sung lament, she had simply lain there. Thaurnoviel had been just as beautiful in death as she had been in life. She had been clad in a snow-white gown with a garland of wildflowers upon her head. Her long ripples of dark hair had flowed over her shoulders, and her eyes had lain closed, her dark lashes lightly brushing up on her pale cheeks. Her brow had been bound with white gems, and her face had been unearthly lovely and clear. Her folded hands had held a single rose to her breast, along with her bow.

" Haitha na Mandos a rado sidh ", he had said numbly. And then Legolas had stood there and had watched burn with a pale, tear-stained face. //Depart to Mandos and find peace.//

He had planted a red rose at the base of //Alwen Kirban// and, once it had blossomed, he had scattered her ashes there. As he had spun around in circles weeping, her own laughing face had flashed in his mind. The image of her dancing there with mallos in her hair had tormented him.

" Why dost thou laugh whilst I weep for thee? " he had screamed into the surrounding wood. Legolas had stumbled and fallen, to then sit against the tree trunk and hug his legs to his chest, laying his head mournfully upon his knees.

~*~

//Nin Meltha Laegolas,

If thou readest this now, I hath departed from the circles of the world. But do not weep and despair on my behalf. As beautiful as thou are with silver pearls in thy brilliant eyes, thou art even more lovely with a sunlit smile upon they fair face. And indeed, that is how I prefer to picture thee.

Take comfort that now I walk the Halls of Mandos in peace and watch over thee vigilantly. Now thou hath forever a star in the sky on which to look upon for hope and guidance in the dark. And I wilt shine for thee on cold winter evenings in the pale moon's light and above the fading trees in autumn and through the summer rain and upon the verdant wood in spring.

Know that I could not have been happier. Our romance was a blissful dream for me, and I relished every moment of it. Thou hast been my one and only true love. And I believe that we were soul mates. Having said that, I may now rest in peace. Live pit thy life, Legolas. Find joy again and never close thy heart to love. My soul goes with thee, melethron, and whilst the flame of my life hath been extinguished, the fire of my love for thee burns ever brighter.

Lin Hiril a Melethril,

Thaurnoviel

~*~

That had been the letter she had left to him once she had died. Whilst reading it, Legolas had undoubtedly wept. Thaurnoviel had known she would that die in the attack made on them by Dol Goldur. Somehow, she had known. And yet, she had gone.

He had folded up the parchment and placed it in his small, rosewood box with every other letter Thaurnoviel had ever written him. Letters to Legolas from the beginning of their courtship, to him whilst he had been away in Lothlorien and Imladris, and when she had been away from Mirkwood as well.

Legolas had known Thaurnoviel for the last seven centuries of her life. After her death, he had fallen to the shadow of depression and attempted to drown himself in the Forest River one day on a hunt by filling his pack with stones. Once he had failed, he had not tried again. Slowly, he had learned to live in spite of his loss.

Eight years after Thaurnoviel's death, he had found joy again the 2 year- old called Aragorn, whose father had been killed by Orcs in the company of his good friends Elladan and Elrohir. Elrond had taken in Gilraen, his widowed mother, and adopted Aragorn as his son.

Legolas vividly remembered that night so long ago that he had come to Imladris late in the night. The twins had been out and so he waited up for them with Lord Elrond and Glorfindel. The twins had ridden through the gates in the dead of night, whilst a storm raged outside. With them were the fair Lady Gilraen and her infant son. All had arrived dripping wet and flustered.

Elrond had led Gilraen away at once, wanting to make sure the new widow was faring well and to talk with her. That had left Glorfindel, Legolas, and the twins with her son.

The twins and the Balrog slayer had fussed over the bawling child, who had lain on the table, while Legolas had stood back and peered at it curiously and bright-eyed.

" Ai, Elbereth, I hope he was not harmed during the ride ", Elrohir had said and in deep trepidation.

" Perhaps he is ill ", Elladan had suggested darkly.

" We should fetch Lord Elrond ", Glorfindel had said.

" Silence ", Legolas had told them calmly. Three heads had snapped to stare at him.

" He is not ill, nor is he harmed ", Legolas had proceeded to say as he had approached the table slowly. " He's frightened."

The others had watched Legolas as he had looked down at the baby with eyes glowering in the firelight.

" He's only a baby, after all. And a mortal baby, at that. The storm and the swift flight to Imladris has scared the child."

Legolas had tentatively reached out and picked up the baby in his blanket. Gilraen's on had whimpered and yet, much to the surprise of the twins and Glorfindel, ceased to cry. Legolas had sat down at the table and beamed at the child with a faint smile on his face. He had cradled the babe gently to his chest and had begun to sing. His soft, warm, beautiful voice had filled the room with an elegant lullaby in his native Sindarin. The twins and Glorfindel had relished it and listened still and soundlessly. Once he had ended on one sweet note, there was a genuine smile upon his face and the baby was sound asleep.

" How precious you are ", Legolas had said tenderly. " I have not seen such a lovely thing in a long while ", he mused.

" Estel ", he had added.

" Estel? " had come Elrond's voice. " Already, you've taken to naming him, Thranduilion? " The Lord of Imladris had asked this lightly, arching an eyebrow.

" Nay, 'tis not a name. I only called him that for he has given me some sort of hope; to...to have joy again ", Legolas had murmured quietly. The eyes of the twins had softened then, and Elrohir had moved to stand behind Legolas and lay a hand on his shoulder. All of them had known of the prince's pain in regards to the Lady Thaurnoviel.

" He is also the hope for the race of Men ", Elrond had said.

" This infant is the heir of Isildur ", Elrond had revealed.

" To the throne of Gondor. "

Legolas had peered back at the baby wide-eyed.

" I think Estel is the perfect name for him. That's what we shall call him from this hour forth. The name of Aragorn shall not be spoken again, nor his true heritage ", Lord Elrond had instructed in a low tone. And his word had been obeyed until Elrond had told Aragorn everything one the man had turned twenty.

Legolas had fallen in love with the little one called Estel, and the boy had become equally enamored with Mirkwood's prince. The flaxen-haired Elf grew to be just as much a brother to Estel as Elladan and Elrohir. He spent more and more time in Imladris once Estel had come to live there, for both grew increasingly attached to the other and would become sullen in each other's absence. Now Aragorn had grown from being //Tithen Ernil//(little prince), as Legolas had called him when he had been little, to a great king of Men.

Legolas sighed restlessly. He fidgeted in bed until he finally fell out of it and on to the floor in a heap of bed covers and with a thud. Aragorn's gentle hand on his shoulder had stopped him in the middle of getting up.

" Still restless, //mellonin// ", he said with a shake of his head. Legolas grinned guiltily.

" Well, I have not found sleep either, so I thought to seek out your company ", Aragorn said as he sat on the rug beside Legolas, with their backs against the bed. Legolas wrapped himself up in his blanket and hugged his knees to his chest.

" I was thinking of her ", he said quietly. Aragorn need not ask who he spoke of. The Elf stared blankly ahead, eyes glassy in nostalgic thought.

" Do you still think of Arwen? " he asked meekly.

" Always ", said Aragorn after a pause. " I still hope that somehow, she might be still be here in Middle Earth ", he added.

" And even if she has departed for Valinor, I will always bear the Evenstar, her gift to me."

Legolas was quiet for a while, and Aragorn sensed his discomfort.

" What is wrong, //mellonin//? " he asked gently. The Elf only shook his head.

" Please, Legolas. You have always confided in me, as I have in you. What ails you? " Aragorn persisted in concern.

" Nothing ", Legolas said shakily as he lifted his head to stare at the ceiling and Aragorn saw the unfallen tears in his best friend's eyes. " Ai, Elbereth, I miss her ", he finally whispered, a tear swiftly rolling down his cheek.

" I know, mellonin ", Aragorn said softly to him, thinking of Arwen as he put his arm around Legolas, who sank into the embrace. " I know. "