There she was, lying down in front of him, hanging on to life with fleeting breath.
He was not supposed to feel the kiss of mortality on his heart...
He was supposed to live forever in the arms of the one he loved, he was supposed to have his love forever.
He kneeled at her bedside as he watched her strength show through, her courage resound in every word she spoke.
"Do not shed a tear for me," she said.
He tried to hold the tears back, he tried to remain strong, to imitate the courage and strength he saw in her.
"Tears are the words the heart can't say," he replied.
Her emerald-jade eyes caught his sapphire ones as he spoke, and let the stream of tears flow down his cheeks. His eyes told her the unspoken words of his mind.
He was scared.
"Your mask is crying, not your heart," she replied softly.
A warrior was not supposed to show fear, or vulnerability. He kept a facade up to the outside world, only in the private moments together did he show his vulnerable side to her, and only her. It was at this moment, a moment only personal between two mates, did his eyes scream for comfort and know, at the same time, that none was going to come.
And she cried.
He gracefully grabbed her hand, and squeezed it lightly. Images of their past came flooding into his mind as he looked upon her pallid face.
They walked quietly through the wood of Mirkwood. Listening to the rhythmic breathing of the trees around them, the very life of the world. They merely enjoyed their companion's company, as unspoken words resonated between the two.
Wordless barriers restricted the relationship to a sudden halt. He was an elf, and she would one day feel mortality grace her soul. He could not hide this fact, nor did she wish he would. They merely relished the time they had together at the present.
He stopped at a small clearing near a calm stream. He turned to her and looked deeply into her eyes.
She smiled.
His heart grew wings.
He grabbed her hand, and held on tightly, showing all his heart in one common gesture.
"Don't hold my hand if you aren't willing to take everything that comes with it," she replied defiantly as she pulled her hand away.
His eyes had betrayed him, betrayed the doubt that filled his heart.
He saw her turn away, he heard her speak those words, but their meaning did not register. All he thought of was the pain he felt to the very depths of his being, right down to his life of immortality, his life-blood.
He decided, in a small clearing, that he was going to, for once, follow his heart.
He thought once more of the immortality of his kin, and kissed it good-bye happily as he grabbed her and pulled her into a long deep kiss, full of passion, full of love.
As the image left his mind, it was replaced by an image of a much older, feebler woman. The same strength, the same wisdom in her eyes, but all of it clouded by old age and deterioration.
As he watched his lover hold to life with bated breath, he felt himself grow cold. His life was leaving him as his soul left hers.
"I told you to run away with my heart and take me for who I am," she said quietly, "And you did that. Do not sit and mourn for me any longer, all I wanted before I went was you by my side, with my hand in yours. You have given that to me."
"Your life was too short, our lives together were too short."
She smiled for the last time; "The tragedy of life isn't that it ends so soon, but that we wait so long to begin it."
And with one last breath, the life left his lover.
And he truly wept for the first time.