Disclaimer: I own no characters, the one mentioned, anyways.
A dark shadow of a person stood silhouetted at the foot of a grave. On top of a hill in the middle of bloody nowhere, she could see for miles around. It really was a beautiful country, an excellent place for a final resting. Though, not one many would have guessed for the occupant. She looked down at the grave, and forced herself to hold back her tears. Enough crying had been done on her part. She read the headstone again for the thousandth time. It was simple, his name and final words to his people. Nothing flowery, that was never his idea of a man's decoration. Slowly, she knelt and placed a bouquet of flowers at the foot of his grave. They had been taken from a special place, the first to bloom on a long-dead land. The cold wind blew around her, and caught the edge of her hood, revealing long, chestnut brown hair. She shivered and pulled the hood up again. It was too cold of a night to be without a cloak. She debated going back to her saddle bags to fetch a blanket, but decided against it. She would not be here long, in fact she already should have gone. But she had to see it one more time, as if to confirm its reality. Even now, months after the battle, the wound still felt fresh, the grave newly dug. And with that, she broke down as she had on countless nights past and buried her head in the flowers, crying her heart out to the man who had left her. The man who would never again comfort her, or kiss her, or hold her. They would never talk again, share jokes, travel or fight any life long battles, not that she had battles anymore, or a life. It had died with him. Her life, her dreams, her light and her hope had died when he fell. Still she could see that pain in his eyes when the sword caught him. Too many Trollocs, and only one blade. Her comrades fought above her as she held him while he died. The hardest part to cope with, was the last time that he looked at her, when his eyes were filled with so much love, it did not seem possible. He died, in her arms, and she claimed her revenge, massacring all Trollocs and shadow spawn that her blade could reach. She fought with a new hatred, and was not satisfied even after all the enemy were dead. While the others in their army celebrated their victory, she mourned and lamented for her love long gone. She searched the field and found his body, closed his eyes, and buried him in a place he mentioned once when they were talking. He said it only in passing, but for a reason unknown, it had stayed with her. In all of his travels, he said he never found such beauty as atop a hill east of the Two Rivers. There she decided to bury him, in beauty, as if to make it all a little bit better. But it did not. It only made everything seem worse, all this beauty contaminated with death. With his death. Her horse neighed at her, and impatiently stamped his hooves. She looked down the hill to where he was tied, and contemplated setting him free, and staying here, to die by her love's side. But no, he would not want that. She had to go. Where, that did not matter. Only that it was away from here. She needed to get away from the death and destruction. So she stood, wiped her tears, and looked upon her love one last time. She blew him a kiss, turned, and walked down the hill to her horse. He nuzzled her hand, and kicked his legs, eager to get on their way. She untied him, climbed into the saddle, and slowly began to ride away. Just at the edge of the trees, she turned around and whispered into the night, "Good bye, my love. I will never forget you, al'Lan Mandragoran." With that final word to the lost, she rode away, never looking back, never forgetting.