Okaaaaay.... Lora Helen here again, after another period of horrific writers block I was able to rattle this off.... To be frank. I hate it. Its not a good chapter and to me it sounds very forced, but well, I leave that up to you in the end. It continues the story, and well, all I can say is that I hope the next chapter come easier.... If it hadn't been for all you wonderful ppl helping to push me on with reviews I think this story would have died at this chapter.... Seeing as the file containing all that I had written mysteriously vanished.... So.... Yeah... I kind of lost hope, but you guys are so great.... And I'm now trying to catch up with where this story was going.

This chapter.... May be a little controversial, if that is the right word, I am not sure how you guys will like it, and if you do not, please let m know and I will try and re do it, because, as I said, I had no spirit for writing when I did this, so if it needs re-doing, PLEASE let me know.... Thanks.

Again though, you can have no idea how much your reviews have done to save my ramblings.

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So now, without further ado, I give you chapter 5. Sunkist day.

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The sun was high in the sky when, still many leagues ahead of them, elf and man were both in sight of the vast expanse of trees that was Mirkwood.

On they rode.

Half a day more, and their Hell-driven pace would bring them to the edge of the vast wood.

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On the morning of the sixth day since his daughter had left, Celithramir awoke with the dawn.

He went around the woodland fort as he did every day, and made sure all was well and in its place. The silence from the princes room assured him that the Prince was in no pain, no matter his state.

As the sun reached its apex, he walked slowly down the wood panelled corridor, and tapped gently on the door of the Princes apartment.

There was no reply, but he hadn't expected one.

Quietly he opened the door, in case the prince was still sleeping, but his care was not necessary.

The Prince lay as usual in his bed, his gaze trained on the window. His face bleak.

Celithramir stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, he then proceeded to tidy and clean as he would have done had the Prince been active.

He was about to leave and fetch the something to break his masters fast, when a quiet voice held him back. For the first time in three days, his master was speaking.

"I awoke to quite a sight this morning." The young elf murmured, his eyes still focussed on the window.

Celithramir moved so that he was standing by the end of the Princes bed. This movement caused the Princes gaze to fall on him, and, as each time it happened, Celithramir was forced to quell the wish to weep for his master.

The change that had come upon Legolas was remarkable, by no means good, but remarkable still. He had the countenance of either a man so old and frail that he should need more than a cane to support him, or a babe so young that it should not yet have left the safety of its mothers womb.

He no longer, in colour at least, resembled the Prince at all.

The thick and lustrous curtain of golden highlighted blonde, that had been the Princes hair, had not decreased in lustre or volume, but it had changed beyond all possible recognition. It was not longer gold streaked blonde. But instead it was silver streaked white.

His skin now had an almost translucent quality to it, giving his whole countenance a look of delicate frailty, such as is possessed by a young spring flower, a dew dusted spiders web or a flake of the finest snow.

His figure, now wasted in appearance, was also frail, delicate as his skin, and very slight. The strength that it had possessed upon his return from the Quest of the Ring had all but vanished. Leaving him a mere shadow of what once he was, but no less beautiful. Because, it is true that even shades can be beautiful.

For though he had the hair and frailty of one aged through many winters, there was not a line on his still trusting and honest face, it was as though he had refused the encroachment of age a hold on him, in the hope that indeed, he would still be saved and not dammed to his fate.

His eyes, perhaps, bore the starkest change; for they no longer shone with a sapphire glow that reflected their owners love of life and the world around him, but instead were as dull as a cloud laden, heavy as lead, with rain.

Rain that would have been the tears the Prince could no longer cry, or maybe a more just way of stating it would be; Tears the Prince no longer cared to cry.

As Celithramir stood and surveyed his Prince, waiting for him to continue, he could think of no one that deserved this fate, this ageless age, less than his own dear master.

"Yes. Quite a sight." The Prince murmured again. "If I knew any longer of the true meaning of the word I should have called it beautiful. And if I knew of whom or what I thought of, I should have said it drew my mind back to a day spent with one I loved. It darkens the world to me that I can no longer feel or remember these things."

Celithramir nodded, mutely grieving his masters despondency and despair. "What did your highness see that could have moved you so greatly at this time?" He asked quietly, knowing that this may indeed be his masters final day.

The progression of his failing had been swifter than even Celithramir had thought possible. A mere six days had driven all strength from the stricken elf. If he no longer knew of beauty and love then his life could no longer hold any meaning to him.

"When I opened my eyes...." He murmured, his gaze once more falling on the window. "The sun had not yet kissed the tree tops, and this chamber was in darkness. But, as I lay here, a fine amber glow did creep up the trunk of that young birch yonder.... And soon it was colouring also these very walls that surround me with its amber light."

He shifted slightly, fighting to raise himself into a more comfortable position. Celithramir moved at once to help him, and, as he settled his Prince back against the pillows, the dull grey eyes turned once more to him, wearing a questioning look, as if the prince were trying to recall the name of this person who had so suddenly rushed to his aide.

Legolas sighed. "I suppose it matters not that I do not recall your face. Yet, I am sure I knew and loved you once.... At least I believe that is the word....."

Celithramir nodded, a tear on his cheek, he drew back and affirmed that it was indeed the case.

"I have been in your service since the day you entered this world. You cared for me as an uncle once.... And I you as a nephew."

The Prince nodded and continued to speak of his morning in a murmur. "Soon, though it may have been hours.... For the time I really do not know.... The light reached the highest point of that wall yonder."

He gestured to the wall on his left.

"As it began to brush the ceiling beams it changed, and a green glow filled the entire room, not just the walls but the floor the bed.... Everything. And it called to me, of something in a time passed now, I felt.... In here....."

He pressed a hand to his heart.

"That I knew it. But yet.... As is now to oft the case, I did not understand."

Legolas looked saddened, and Celithramir was about to speak, about to try and offer some words of comfort, when the Prince halted him by continuing himself.

"But now, today. I understand one thing....."

Dreading the answer Celithramir asked. "What my Prince. What have you know an understanding of?"

"That my life is over." Came the sad reply. "That I shall not live to see that sight again. That is why it was gifted to me, that my spirit may carry it forever as it runs with those of the trees. Today. Is my final day."

"No Prince Legolas. No! Do not say such things. You can not know this to be the case."

Legolas shook his head; his long white and silver hair glinting in the sun, and, for the moment at least, he seemed his old self, in mind and understanding at least, if not at all in spirit. "I do. I fear I know this too well. I can feel better now than before how empty I have become, My heart no longer knows how to love, though I still know the word, and my soul..... I can feel it fading.... The twilight of this day shall be the twilight of my life."

Celithramir bowed his head. Objections quelled by the earnestness in the Princes voice.

"I ask of you one favour.... For I perceive you were once my friend."

"Anything my Prince."

"Do not let me pass away within these walls. I ask of you that you aid me in finding my rest outside, in my Beloved Mirkwood. For I know in the final recesses of my heart, I hold love still for the tress and one other..... Though I have tragically forgotten their name."

"Aragorn, My Prince." Celithramir supplied.

"Yes." Legolas said, with a wistful smile. "That is indeed the name..... I thank you for recalling it to me. But, I must know. Will you help me out of doors as the day fades?"

Celithramir nodded. "Yes my Prince, I shall aide you, for it should be my last wish also."

"Thank you kind sir. Now, please. Leave me with my thoughts until that time. I wish to try and regain at least something of what I have lost."

"Of course my Prince." Celithramir said with a bow. "I shall prepare for you a spot in the open air sire, yet still among the trees, and I shall come hither and the beginning of the dipping of the sun. Till then sire."

Celithramir turned on his heel and hurried from the room.

He knew the place he would prepare for the Prince.

Each time a son or daughter was born to an elven family in Mirk Wood, a tree was planted to celebrate the beginning of a new life, and, in the rare event of an elf passing from the land of the living to the halls of the dead, the body would be committed to the earth at the foot of the tree planted there to commemorate the beginning of their life.

And thus, in the way of nature, the elf would become one with their tree. Life and death would become one.

That would be where he would let the Prince end his life, by the very tree that was set to commemorate its commencement, over two thousand years before.

Before going out into the wood, the elf gathered together a selection of blankets and a cushion, for even in summer as it was, the Prince all to easily felt the cold, and, Celithramir decided, it would never do for him to end his days in discomfort.

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Well, if you are reading this it means you got through the horribly forced writings of ME and well, I commend you.... for I really do think I should re- do this. But I couldn't bear to keep you guys waiting any longer....

Well, let me know what you think if its not too much trouble, and most defiantly let me know if I should re do this....

Thanks for taking the time to read and I hope to see you soon!

Lora Helen