Here is another short one from me.

It is the same challenge Trinka gave to San.

Write something about a swamp, no comedy.

And three pages only.

But for me Trinka added two more things. She wanted me to try something different and it should be dark.

So here is the result.

Dedicated to Trinka for daring me to try something different, I did not know that I could do something like that.

And many Thanks to Alina for editing this little piece. You rock.

I hope you enjoy this.

Feedback is always appreciated.

Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me. I'm not Tolkien. sigh

Tired

Am I really going to die here?

It seems so.

The cold invades me and I shiver.

It is not only the cold from the outside but it also comes from the inside. Alone...that is what I am... alone.... surrounded by nothing but cold muddied water and impermeable fog hovering over the Dead Marshes like a shroud, blocking out the faint rays of the sun and the bodies of my enemies. I have killed them all before I gave in to the darkness.

There is nothing what could warm me.

I can feel my body dieing around my soul and I'm not sure if I can stop it or if I want to stop it.

Would I be able to stop it?

My life leaves me like the blood that seeps from my body through numerous wounds. I can not hold it back. Do I want to hold it back? Or should I allow the eternal darkness to embrace me?

Could this darkness ease my pain and my sorrows?

Could it take away the memories and pictures of death and decay?

Death had always been a constant, silent and sometimes not so silent companion throughout all my life. But it had always been me who had brought him to others.

I had thought that should death claim me one day, it would be on a battlefield, a swift stroke with a sword or the piercing pain of an arrow. Never had I expected that death would come to me like a long lost friend and envelop me with his dark wings, like they were some kind of warm cosy blanket wrapped around me by a friend.

What surprises me the most, is that I'm willing to welcome him like I would welcome a friend or a beloved wife.

Am I really so easy to defeat?

Usually I would say... No!

At any other time I would fight...What is different now from all those other times that I chose to fight?

I have no strength left to fight. I feel weary and tired.

Yes, I am tired. Tired of fighting.

Maybe even tired of life?

Can it be?

Can it really be that an immortal as young as myself is tired of life and living? It is not meant this way. It never was.

But it happens to me right now.

Can it be that it is an after effect of laying beloved friends to rest and to know that their bodies will fall prey to slow decay until nothing more is left of them than some dust and bonesAfter some more years nothing will remain.

Nothing but memories and paintings.

That is all that is left behind.

No, there is something more.

Children, their children will continue what their parents have started.

I never had children.

I never had a wife waiting for me.

What will be left of me?

Memories?

How long will mortals be able to remember me?

Is there something to remember?

As what person will they remember me? As a friend? The warrior I have been? The Lord I am now?

Will they remember only the good days or will they remember the bad times too?

One day they will forget everything they know about me.

I will only be something their great-great grandparents have told them about in bed time stories. And after some more years these memories will fade until nothing is left than a fairytale of immortals who once wandered over the soil of this world?

One day we all will be forgotten.

What will they do should they find my corpse one day? Will they bury me under piles of stone like they do with their own kind? Like they have done with their kings?

Like they have done with my best friend only 7 days ago?

Is that the reason why I want to give in to the inviting darkness?

Because he is gone and I have fulfilled my oath?

The oath that I would never leave him until death claims him.

He had chosen his destiny. He had chosen the time.

Maybe this is why I stopped fighting against the dark friend who comes closer every passing moment.

I had left the White City seeking solitude after the burial.

I had watched them, when they laid him to rest in the Silent Street among all of his ancestors. I had watched everything. But only my body had been there, in this silent, dark place. My mind had been far away that day. I had been back in the time when we first met and when we became friends.

I remembered him as a child, as an adolescent, as a young man, as the ranger he had been, as the newly crowned king,

I remember how he looked the day he finally married his beloved Evenstar.

I remember him the day his son had been born.

I remember him as a father.

I remember him, in his old days.

And finally I remembered the day when we said our last good bye. He was the one who said, that he was tired of life and that his time had come to go and leave for another place and other adventures.

He had been so sure that death would be not the end for him.

He did not know, but he had hope.

I could not stand among all these mourning people.

I had to be alone to give in to the overwhelming grief.

So I left.

Riding out alone.

Gimli insisted on coming with me, but he understood when I told him that I wanted to have time alone and after I had assured him that I would be back in a few days he let me go.

I do not know why I rode to this place.

Maybe I wanted to be with my kin, even when they were all long dead.

I had watched the dead faces under the water and they had watched me.

Then it happened.

They attacked me, I still cannot recall how they could come so close without me noticing them. I do not know where this pack of orcs came from, maybe there were still some dwellings in Mordor. I do not know and now I do not care anymore. They are all dead, and I will soon join my kin and many others here in this swamp.

I have already joined them.

I watch my body drifting in the muddy waters of the Dead Marshes. When had it been that my lungs struggled for one last breath before the water filled them slowly?

It could not be long ago.

I see my hair flowing with the movements of the waters, rippled by a light wind. I cannot see my face, all I can see is my back and my outstretched arms and legs. I'm drifting.

I see a group following the trails my horse had left in the muddy surface. I see the dwarf sitting behind a dark haired elf. I see another elf, a mirror image of the first one. I see a young human, he looks so much like my friend when he had been in that age. It is supposed to be so, the young one is the son of my friend and the new king. I watch them when they reach my body. I watch them when they pull me out of the waters. I watch them, hovering over my dead body. I watch them when they try to remove the water from my lungs. I watch them yelling at me, that I should not give up. I hear them shouting that I'm too stubborn to give up, but I see the hopelessness in their eyes.

I watch the dwarf crying.

I watch it all unfolding before my eyes.

Can I really leave them all behind?

Have I really fulfilled my oath?

Looking at my friends I decide....

No, I do not have fulfilled my oath and I have not fulfilled my life. It is not time for me to leave, not in this way.

One day I will leave, but not now.

So I return to my body where cold and pain awaits me.

I return to my friends.

The End

A/N: I want to thank everyone how had left a review to "Grapes and Elflings" and all the other one shots I have posted over the time. I loved each one of them. huggles Reviewers

Thank you to the lurkers too. I know that you are reading my stories, and I hope you like them. ;-)