To anonymous who left the eighth review - Legolas is not the only reason for reading LotR, and even if he does appear later on, it will not be an earth-shaking plot move.

Chapter Nine – A Time to Mourn

Laurè closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to spill from them as the memory of his love filled her heart once more. She remembered the years they had spent together with bittersweet joy. They were the happiest of her life, easily, and yet the most ordinary of her long years in comparison to the deeds she had done in other years. Without quite knowing how, she had fallen deeply in love with Aldamar, and by the end of that first year they had been married, happily settled on his farm. Another couple of years later, and they had two bonny girls crawling around, and generally making their chaotic house even more of a mess.

A wave of longing swept over the she-elf as she stared up at the stars, fighting vainly to keep the grief at bay. Her family … lost to the years as everyone else she had known now was. And she had not thought to tell her friends of her new home, her new life, too caught up in the joy of love and family to think of anyone else. They were the best of times, she thought with a pang, the best of her life.

And then came the night when her old life had caught up with the new …

Laughter rang through the little house, accompanied by the occasional yelp as one or another of her family knocked into something as they chased after one another. Laurè watched the children with a smile as she washed their dishes in the sink, making silly faces to entertain the baby boy sat gurgling by her feet. She was glad of the distraction; an echo had been playing in her heart and mind for most of the day, a voice that she knew almost as well as her own. Aldamar crashed through the door suddenly, lunging at his daughters and catching them both in his arms as they giggled hysterically.

'Fee fi fo fum,' he boomed, echoing the game he had often seen Laurè play with them. 'What have I found?'

Aldè threw her arms around his neck, kissing him as her sister wriggled out of his grip and ran to hide behind Laurè's skirts. Aldamar hugged his eldest daughter close, setting her on the floor as he rose to kiss his wife, ruffling the hair of little Ríel as she hugged his leg. Laurè smiled up at her husband, accepting his kiss lovingly.

'Hard day, love?' she asked him.

He shrugged.

'Not really,' he sighed. 'Just lonely without you.'

Laurè laughed.

'Oh, however did you survive?' she teased, turning back to the washing up as he echoed her laughter.

Her eyes lifted to the window, and the laugh died on her lips as she spied a figure standing in the shadows under the oak tree, watching her as she stared. Her hands froze in their task, the plates dropping back into the soapy water as she struggled to calm the sudden wild beating of her heart. She felt Aldamar come up behind her, obviously concerned by her tension. He, too, saw the dark figure, and she felt his protective side come out in full force.

'Laurè, take the children upstairs, and don't come down no matter what you hear,' he told her, moving to rummage for his only weapon, a rather rusty short sword.

'No,' Laurè managed. 'No, I'll go.'

Aldamar turned back to her, his expression stern.

'I won't let you,' he said, catching her arm as she moved to fetch Angùrei.

Laurè raised an eyebrow at him, reminding him with a look that she knew far more about things of this sort than he.

'Let?' she repeated, her tone dangerous. 'You keep the children in here; I'll go outside.'

He still looked undecided.

'But –'

She smiled faintly.

'No arguments,' she told him. 'Besides, I think I know who it is.'

He held her gaze a moment longer and backed down, kissing her gently as she dried her hands. She waited until he had gathered the children to him, taking up Angùrei as she slipped from the house to approach the not-so-unfamiliar stranger.

A slight breeze tugged at her hair and clothes as she walked towards the visitor, noting the signs of one of her own; the sheathed bow and quiver of arrows; the leaf buckle on the belt; the light boots; and the leaf of Lothlórien pinning the cloak. She moved until she was standing in front of the visitor, placing Angùrei on the ground at her feet.

'It's been a long time,' she said softly.

Galadriel held her gaze for a long time before answering.

'Do you have any idea how worried I've been?' she said acerbically. 'You disappeared from a battlefield, I thought you were dead! Do you have any idea how much that hurt?'

Laurè said nothing. She had known this would happen someday; she just hadn't realised that Galadriel would come all the way out here to do it herself.

'Look at you,' her friend went on. 'You're disgustingly healthy; you have a family … you have children! And you didn't think to tell me that you were alright?'

She threw her sword onto the ground in impotent anger.

'I grieved for you,' she snapped. 'I spent weeks searching for you, but you had yourself well hidden away, didn't you? And do you know what's even worse?'

Laurè didn't dare speak an answer, knowing it would come no matter what she did.

'Even after everything you've put me through, all the fear and hurt and anger,' Galadriel declared, her face softening, 'I can't be angry with you. Gods, I'm so happy to see you safe!'

She surged forward, hugging Laurè close with something close to a sob of relief. They clung together, laughter mixing with tears as Galadriel forgave her for the years of worry she had caused. Laurè drew her friend inside, introducing her to her husband and children with a proud smile, and watching happily as Galadriel accepted them all without question.

'Are you an Elf too, Galadriel?' Aldè asked her excitedly. 'Like Mama?'

Galadriel smiled indulgently.

'Yes, little one, I am,' she told the rosy-cheeked child. 'I knew your Mama when she was very young. We've been friends for a long time.'

'Hundreds and hundreds of years, I'll bet,' Aldè declared, grinning as Galadriel laughed.

'Longer,' she said. 'Try thousands and thousands.'

As Aldè's jaw dropped incredulously, Ríel pushed forward shyly.

'Mae govannen, Galadriel,' she lisped hesitantly, glancing up at Laurè for encouragement before going on. 'Gîl síla na lû govaded. That means a star shines on the time of our meeting, doesn't it, Mama?'

Laurè nodded, hugging her daughter close as Galadriel looked suitably impressed.

'Well done, honey,' she praised her. 'Well met to you, too.'

Laurè watched happily as Ostoher tugged on her friend's cloak, demanding without words to be lifted into her arms. Aldamar wrapped his arms around his wife, pleased to see her so happy.

'Shall we ask her to stay, love?' he murmured, laughing softly as Ostoher tugged on Galadriel's long hair.

Laurè turned to him, a delighted smile on her face.

'Thank you,' she breathed, rubbing her nose against his tenderly. 'I would love for her to stay for a while.'

That night, once all the family were asleep, the two Elves sat up until morning, talking about anything and everything. Galadriel told Laurè of the uneasy peace that had settled on the lands since the Witchking's defeat, and of the fortunes of Men and Elves in her absence. In her turn, Laurè told her friend of all that had happened to her since they had parted ways, and of the dark paths of her heart she had walked before meeting Aldamar. At this, Galadriel grew serious.

'You do know what you are doing, don't you?' she asked gently.

Laurè's smile faded.

'Yes, I do,' she told her friend.

'He will grow old, and he will die,' Galadriel pressed. 'And your children will also die. If you love him even half as well as you seem to, it will destroy you.'

She leant forward, taking her friend's hand with touching concern.

'I don't want to see that happen to you,' she said softly.

Laurè sighed softly.

'I know,' she said sadly. 'I try not to think of it.'

'You're going to have to think about it, Laurè,' Galadriel told her quietly. 'As the years pass, and he grows old and fades, you will not be able to escape it. You will have to face never changing, never aging, while everyone you love succumbs to the passage of time. Your children do not have the light of the Elves; they will not be given the gift of an immortal life.'

'Yes, I have noticed that, thank you, Ri,' Laurè said harshly. 'I don't like to be reminded of it.'

Galadriel forced her to look into her eyes.

'You have to remember it,' she insisted. 'Because there is nothing you can do to change things. You are set on a path that will break your heart, and I can't stand back and let you do this without making sure you know what will happen.'

Laurè sagged, sorrow filling her face.

'I do know,' she said, her voice miserable. 'And it already hurts to know I will lose them all.'

Galadriel wrapped her arm around her.

'I'm here,' she said encouragingly. 'And I always will be. When the time comes, I will come and find you. You will not go through this on your own.'

Laurè managed a faint smile.

'How will you know?' she asked.

Galadriel grinned and tapped her forehead.

'Hey,' she chuckled. 'It's me.'

She had been true to her word as well, Laurè remembered; always there when she needed her friend. She had spent many happy years with her family, unchanged as they grew older, her strength undimmed as Aldamar's failed, until that awful year when her world shattered …
Laurè sat by the window, her heart heavy with grief. Outside the leaves were falling from the trees, decorating the cobbles of the little courtyard with red, gold and brown. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of sickness and decay, heavy with sorrow and despair. Aldamar lay, weak and weary, against the pillows, the rasp of his breathing painful to her ears. They had had eighty laughter-filled years together, but now the laughter had gone, leaving nothing but painful memories as her beloved husband faded before her eyes. Their children sat around them, each feeling keenly the grief that swept through their mother as she watched their father die. They had all grown strong and true, married and had children, and were growing old as their father had, and they knew, that though the ages would pass and the world would change, their mother would remain the same until the day she died.

She rose to sit with him, seeing her youthful looks as a mockery to his aged form, her smooth skin stark against his wrinkled hands. She still loved him, as deeply as ever before, her heart unchanged by his withering form over the years, though many times he had tried to get her to leave, ashamed to let her see him fade into old age. She had never left his side, and would not, until the moment he slipped into the eternal sleep. And that was a moment she hoped, futilely, would never come.

Aldamar stirred, opening his eyes to look at her, and smiled weakly.

'My beautiful Laurè,' he whispered hoarsely, lifting a hand to stroke her face lovingly. 'I never understood why you stayed.'

She smiled, holding his hand to her cheek with fingers that trembled only slightly.

'I love you,' she told him. 'I always have. Do you not remember my promise? Le meluvan úne ar alya lúmessen tenna nurucilie.'

Aldamar nodded faintly.

'I will love you for better for worse until death do us part,' he translated softly.

'And to that I hold,' she swore, leaning forward to kiss him tenderly.

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

'Even to an old fool like me?' he asked, his voice losing strength with each passing moment.

She laughed.

'Even to an old fool like you,' she promised, gently brushing his white hair from his eyes. 'You know full well I'm much older than you … I shall miss you, my husband.'

He blinked slowly, relaxing back onto the pillows with a sigh.

'If I could wait for you, I would,' he managed, his eyes drifting to the ranks of children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren lingering behind her. 'Take care of one another for me.'

Their children nodded in answer, clinging to one another in acute sorrow as their father turned back to his wife.

'And you, my love …' he murmured. 'You must carry on, do what you swore before we ever met … they will need you.'

Laurè swallowed hard against the tears, not wishing his last sight to be that of a weeping woman.

'I will try,' she said softly.

He smiled gently.

'Then I can rest easy, knowing my blood are protected by the woman I love,' he sighed. 'Tenn 'enomentielva, my lo …'

His eyes rolled back suddenly, and a soft groan escaped his lips as the last of his life's strength left his body. Laurè stared at the lifeless form for a long time, listening only vaguely to the wails of her children as they mourned the loss of their father. She leant forward to kiss his forehead gently, a single tear falling onto his lips as she pulled back.

'Namárië, melindonya,' she murmured.

Then, slowly, she rose to her feet, and left the room, walking through the house out into the courtyard. So many memories surrounded her, bombarded her with joy and pain and love, and reminded her of what she had so recently lost. She made it to the orchard before it became too much, and she fell to her knees, sobbing violently with pain and anguish. Gentle arms wrapped about her, holding her tightly against the grief that threatened to swallow her whole. She pulled back, and looked up into Galadriel's understanding eyes.

'He … he's gone,' she sobbed.

Galadriel hugged her close, stroking her hair gently as she rocked her back and forth.

'I know,' she murmured softly. 'I know.'

Tenn 'enomentielva – Until we meet again

Namárië, melindonya – Farewell, my love