Ada,

I just realized that I have been rejoicing in my own marriage without remembering you. I have started writing to you because my love does, and I still wonder why I never thought of it before. I will try to document the story that I know.

Liron and Faervel kissed the young elf's forehead once, and pressed a dagger into Elrond's hand. "If he ever needs it." Liron said. "I swear that Liron and I will wed as soon as we return. We truly did not mean to create a child, but we love him with our whole hearts." Faervel said, and quickly swung up onto her horse, Liron copying her movements. As the two lovers joined the army of elves, they took each other's hand, looking behind at the child of two warriors riding to battle.

He was sleeping peacefully, his long brown hair fluttering in the breeze. The opposite as the two who looked back to see him. Faervel quickly let go, spinning her horse around, back in line.

Soon they were both fighting, spinning daggers and swords, twirling and ducking gracefully. Liron could not see Faervel, fighting back towards the circle of elves, certain that she'd be there. He was almost there when he ran into an orc with iron welded into his skin. The captain.

He had no choice. Captain versus captain, blades whistled and met with a clang, forcing Liron back, and with another clang, the orc captain twisted his blade, spinning Liron on the ground. As he saw the sword swirl down to kill him, he heard a scream to his left. Faervel.

Seizing the broken blade at his side, he blocked the orc's sword, and rolled to his left, stabbing the orc captain right through his ribs.

And he ran, trying desperately to find Faervel. When he saw her fighting a troll, he ran faster, shoving orcs with the hilt of his sword. When he reached the troll, he took up a dagger from a fallen elf, and sank it deep into the troll's leg. He roared, clutching his leg, and swept his hand towards Faervel, spinning her off balance by grabbing her breastplate. She had no choice but to take it off.

Liron kept stabbing the troll, and soon he drove it a bit closer to the circle of elves, letting them join in the fight. Soon he fell with a thump, dead on the ground. Ignoring the shouts of the other elves, he ran back to find Faervel and bring her closer.

He grabbed her arm, pulling her with him to the middle of the circle of elves. An idea flashed into his head.

A mid-battle wedding. A last spark of hope for the elves. A chance to live.

"Faervel! Will you please be my Beloved?" He shouted, protected from the battle, surrounded by elves. Faervel turned towards him quickly, noticing the elves falling around her. The battle was almost over. Seventeen elves remained, and nearly two hundred orcs and goblins were left. This was the last time for a wedding. "Yes." Liron took her hand quickly, handing her a dagger. "I will give you a circlet when we return." He promised. "Stay with me!" Was all that Faervel could say before the orcs and goblins scattered the circle.

Only one of the elves had noticed the wedding, and he cried loudly "Then you are wedded!" and the rest of the elves heard. They fought harder, knowing that there was hope.

Soon, there were only fifty orcs left and thirteen elves. Liron and Faervel turned toward each other, kissing quickly but passionately. They both turned back toward the orcs around them, fighting harder, knowing that they would return to their son soon, and be wed properly.

They never got that far.

Neither of them saw it coming. A dying orc had thrown his spear at the couple, and the throw was true. The spear went straight through Faervel's ribs. Liron turned towards her, and she collapsed, falling on another orc's blade. Blood was pouring out of her wounds, and Liron was trying to fight off the orcs that were trying to finish her off when he felt a blade through his heart.

With the last bit of his strength, he reached up and traced a circlet around Faervel's head, sealing his promise with a circlet of blood. Faervel smiled, tracing an identical one on his brow.

And they died together, hands entwined, smiling, lying in a pool of blood.

By the time the triumphant elves had walked back to Imladris, every elf knew what had saved the fading hope; and upon seeing the small child of the captain of the army and his wife, not a single one of the remaining nine elves wanted to tell the story to Lord Elrond.

But they had to.

And on the last word, Elrond had tears in his eyes, and he was quietly rocking the small child in his arms.

Ada, I only heard this story on my eight hundredth birthday. The day that Elrond gave me your dagger from so long ago.

I was very moved by this story, and I hope that I remembered everything correctly. If you ever see Tauriel's parents, please tell them that I love her if they do not know.

Boe I'waen,

Lindir