"They are cleaning up the dead," Tinwe whispered as the two horses rode out across Pelennor Fields. She dismounted, as did Legolas to her left. She began walking across the field, leading Alagos. She watched as men walked around, picking up the bodies of the fallen, separating them from the rotting bodies of the Orcs. Tinwe walked slowly for many long moments, before she gasped, staring at a knight of Gondor. She dropped Alagos' reins, and ran over to the soldier, kneeling beside him. Tears welled in her eyes as she gently picked up his head and placed it upon her lap. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and new it was Legolas.
"This is Angren. When I came to Gondor ten years ago, he took me in and let me stay with him and his family. He was so kind to me." Tears flowed down her cheeks as she cradled his head in her lap. "I never got to properly thank him for his generosity."
She cried gently, as two men came over and took Angren's body from her. She stood up slowly, watching them take him. She felt strong arms wrap around her, and she turned around, burying her face in Legolas's chest. She sobbed, her thin frame shaking as her grief overtook her. Legolas held her tightly, leaning his cheek against the top of her head, closing his eyes. The two elves stood together for a long time, each deep in their own thoughts. The men around them left them alone, going about their business solemnly.
Eventually, Tinwe stopped crying, but did not pull away from Legolas. She felt safe in his arms, and she could feel her frailness would become ever more pronounced if she let go. But, she knew she would have to face her weakness sooner or later.
"Are you going to be alright?" Legolas asked softly as they walked through the streets of Minas Tirith. Tinwe nodded slowly, but her head shot up as she heard something hidden among the sounds of construction all around her.
"What is it?" Legolas asked, startled by her sudden change.
"Do you hear that?" Tinwe said softly, standing perfectly still. There it was again.
"Yes. Where is it coming from?"
"Here," Tinwe said, leading the way through the rubble of a collapsed building. She struggled over the stones, Legolas following. As she pushed aside a ruined curtain, she saw a little boy sitting on his knees, sniffing. Tinwe's eyes saddened as she saw that he was sitting beside the unmoving body of a woman, whom she knew instinctively was his mother. She walked over to the boy, just as Legolas pushed aside the curtain, looking in surprise at the scene before him.
"Shh, don't cry," Tinwe said, crouching down beside the boy. He looked up at her, large blue eyes red from crying. He sniffed, watching her.
"Are you an angel?" he asked, whipping his face on his sleeve. She smiled down at him. He could not be more than four years old.
"No, little one. I am an elf. My name is Tinwe. What's yours?" The boy sniffed again.
"Hindil," he said softly.
"Come with me Hindil," Tinwe said, holding out her hand.
"But I can't leave mama," he said, taking a hold of a handful of the dead woman's dress. Tinwe looked at him sympathetically.
"Come, let your mama sleep. I'm sure you are hungry."
The boy nodded, taking Tinwe's hand and following her out towards the street. Legolas held open the curtain as they came out, looking down at the boy.
"Hindil, this is Legolas. Legolas, Hindil."
Hindil looked warily up at Legolas, and gripped Tinwe's hand harder. She picked up the boy, and carried him up over the piles of rubble.
The two elves and the boy walked to the citadel, and Tinwe took him into the kitchen.
"How is that?" she asked, as the Hindil gulped down a warm bowl of soup. He beamed up at her.
"It's yummy," he said, before shoving another spoonful into his mouth. Tinwe grinned, watching him wolf down the food.
"I'm glad. Now you stay here with Brith. I will be back soon."
Tinwe exited the kitchens, and walked out to the courtyard of the White Tree. Legolas was standing on the far end, looking out over the city. She walked up next to him, following his gaze.
"How is the boy doing?"
"He'll be fine. He's got a ravenous appetite." Legolas smirked at this, keeping his gaze forward. As Tinwe looked out across the fields, a single tear fell down her cheek. Legolas put his hand on her cheek and gently turned her head so she was looking at him. He wiped away the tear, looking into her deep green eyes with his brilliant sapphires.
"I know you mourn for the loss of your friend, but there is more than just death in this city. You have proven that. Hindil was a sign for you, to keep you going. Death is sad, but it gives way for new life. Just like a raging wildfire, this war will destroy so much that we love, but life is resilient. New things will grow in the place of the old. Just have faith."
Tinwe smiled up at him through her tears.
"Thank you Legolas. I am thankful that here, at the end of an age, I have you with me. I have been alone for so long, I forget that even in a world of death, there is still hope."
Legolas bent down and kissed her forehead, before walking away, leaving Tinwe to her thoughts.
"Good morning Gimli. Would you care to join us this morning?"
"No thank you lass. I feel like putting my feet up and eating a nice roast chicken. I wonder if Brith has chicken this early…"
Tinwe laughed as the dwarf walked away, talking to himself.
"He is a funny dwarf," she said lightly, sitting atop Alagos, Legolas facing her on Arod.
"But his heart is in the right place," Legolas said, watching his friend return to the citadel.
"Race you!" Tinwe said, nudging Alagos forward, galloping toward the streets. Legolas laughed, wheeling Arod around, and speeding after her. The elves did not know that Gimli hadn't refused just so he could have chicken. The dwarf had finally figured out what about the elves he had found peculiar. He decided to refuse, because he felt awkward around the two of them, and thought they should have time to themselves. He had realized that they were falling in love.
"Oh, do you remember Talathon? About eight years ago, he drank an entire three barrels of brew. You have never seen a stranger sight. He was dancing on the tabletops, and must have fallen off five times, laughing all the while." Tinwe chuckled merrily.
"I remember him. He used to be a guard until the dwarf incident correct?"
"Yes. In fact, that situation is some what of an irony to me."
"How so?"
"Gimli's father, Gloin, was one of those captured. He and I did not get along very well at the start, because of the grudge concerning my father imprisoning his father."
"How did you become such good friends then?"
"When you are forced to rely on each other for survival, you tend to come to better terms with one another," Legolas said with a small smile. "Our time spent in Lothlorien also helped. Gimli was mesmerized by Lady Galadriel. He seemed to think better of elves after that."
Tinwe smiled warmly, but it quickly faded as a dark arrow sped past her left ear. Both elves turned quickly to look where the arrow had come from, pulling out their own bows. All of a sudden, a swarm of Orcs materialized out of the trees, running down the slopes towards them. The elves quickly started firing arrows into their midst, but there were too many. One managed to pull Tinwe from the black mare, which quickly bolted back towards the city. She fell to the ground, pulling a dagger from her belt and stabbing the Orc. She rolled over to avoid a blow from another Orc, and stood up, throwing the dagger at an Orc running at her. It lodged itself in the right eye slit, causing the Orc to fall forward, dead.
She pulled out her sword, slashing Orcs left and right. They fell all around her, but more kept coming. She was losing ground, the Orcs pressing closer and closer.
"Tinwe!" She looked up as Legolas slashed an Orc right behind her with his silver knife. He held out his other hand, and she took it. He pulled her onto the back of Arod, and pulled out his bow, firing into the mass of Orcs, clearing a path as Arod bolted back towards the city. The Orcs pursued them, but quickly fell behind, disappearing back into the forest. Legolas slowed Arod to a trot, looking over his shoulder at Tinwe.
"Are you alright?" he asked, voice full of concern. Tinwe nodded, breathing hard.
"I'm glad I followed Gimli's advice and brought my sword," she said heavily. Legolas smiled. "I see you still have the knives my father made for you."
"They have served me well for many years," Legolas said as the city slowly came into view. "Your father was indeed a talented blacksmith."
"He loved working with metal more than anything. He was so fond of it; I think he would have been heartbroken if Glorothond hadn't followed his footsteps. It meant so much that he could share his work with us."
"Did he make your sword?"
"No," Tinwe said. Legolas looked over his shoulder again. "I made it. He told me that the only way to be truly attached to a sword is to make it yourself. It has to be an extension of your arm, a part of you. He instructed me while it was being forged. He was right. I have never felt comfortable without this sword with me."