This is just a One-Shot, so don't jump all over me for lack of character background. I really hope you guys enjoy it. I've never really done anything like this, so feel free to review and tell me if my little experiment worked out.

Grenn

Orshal lay on the bloodstained earth. All around her screams of pain and cries of fury sounded off. Her own pain crawled across her body from the point of origin: her spear-pierced side. A beautiful river of crimson streamed from her wound, soaking the ground and her tattered clothing. Broken shards of her breast plate dug into her soft flesh, adding to the mess of a lesion that plagued her ribcage.

"I failed." Her raspy voice squeaked out. "Mellonamin. Melamin. Amin hiraetha."

(My friend. My love. I'm sorry.)

After a few minutes, the pain melted away into numb relief. Her long black hair made an ironic halo around her swimming head. Ironic, of course, because she would soon be dead. Death, she had decided long ago, would not be as bad as all of that, and she was right. She was settling into the numbness of her spirit leaving her body. There was nothing to be scared of now; there was no undoing it.

"This started..." she thought, "with those little hobbits. My little hobbits."

She sat with Aragorn in the dark corner of the Prancing Pony, their black cloaks pulled over their heads to hide furrowed brows and shifting eyes. Aragorn took a long drag off of his pipe before handing it to her to do the same. She inhaled deeply then, just as he had done, exhaled though her nose, giving her the momentary appearance of the dragon she had heard of once that stole gold from some dwarves or something along those lines.

She heard the door of the pub open and close over the roar of the crowd, her ears finely tuned to pick up tiny, seemingly insignificant noise. Instantly she could feel a darkness flood the room and, by the way Aragorn shifted back and forth in his seat, he felt it too.

"Something is wrong." She whispered the bleak warning to her counterpart and knew by the lack of response that he understood.

The pair watched as four stout Hobbits made their way to a tiny table that harbored four tiny chairs. For sometime the half-lings drank and ate before one scurried away, a half-pint of ale in hand. One of the Hobbits' eyes fixed themselves on Orshal and Aragorn, whose eyes stared right back at him. Suddenly, the Hobbit perked up and turned his attention to the bar. He hopped up from his tiny chair and pushed his way through the crowded room, yelling at one of his friends that had already seated himself at the bar. Orshal watched as the little being lost his footing, a small twinge of embarrassment washed over her for him, but it jolted into surprise as she watched him hit the floor and instantly disappear.

Orshal reflexively grabbed Aragorn's arm, but let it go as the Hobbit reappeared. She didn't take her eyes off of the half-ling as Aragorn smacked her shoulder in silent agreement and stood. Following his lead, she smoothly stood from the table and made her way to the room they had bought for the night and extinguished the small candles that illuminated the small room, only leaving the lamp that made its presence known on the writing desk in the corner. Moments later, Aragorn pushed the door open violently and shoved the poor Hobbit into the middle of the room. Aragorn angrily ripped his hood off of his head, exposing his hard face.

"Are you frightened?" His deep voice seemed to scrape the Hobbit who flinched at the words.

"Yes."

Aragorn furrowed his brows once more before turning his attention to Orshal. Feeling bad for the little being, she removed her hood slowly and moved smoothly across the room to him. She placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder and shook her head.

"Not nearly enough."

As if on cue, the door burst open again, revealing the small party of Hobbits that had accompanied the one Aragorn had carried off like a hawk carries off a panting field mouse. The trio were, sort of, armed and ready to fight for their stolen friend.

"I'll have you!" cried the ruddy one in the front, his fist balled up and held in the striking position. Orshal held back a chuckle and looked over to her partner.

"We are going to need more beds."

Orshal's breathing began to shallow. Her body involuntarily jerked, trying to get oxygen to her organs and milk her lungs for everything they had. She fisted the loose dirt around her, forcing herself to take breaths. Her mind wandered to her partner... or ex-partner. As soon as the war was won, Aragorn would be sovereign. King of men. Joy filled her heart for him, then sadness when she realized she wouldn't be there to share the joy with him... and Legolas.

Orshal stood beside the small fire she had made. Aragorn emerged from the forest, a string a rabbits in one hand and a fist full of clover in the other.

"You are getting better."

Orshal smirked at his comment, stealing the vegetation and plopping it into the small iron pot filled with water from the clear river that flowed next to the camp.

"I did learn from the best."

She took out a few vegetables that she had brought along and broke them into the water while Aragorn skinned the little creatures.

Their relationship started when she was a teenager. She had grown up in Rivendell with Lord Elrond as her guardian. Not knowing her parents never really bothered her because he and his daughter Arwen filled the roles quite nicely. Lord Elrond told her once that she looked exactly like her mother and gave her a silver necklace that had belonged to her. It was a lovely sentiment, she thought, but it did not mean anything to her.

He allowed her to tag along, begrudgingly at first, on a few of his outings into the dense wilderness. After a few months, he gave her the title of Ranger, which thrilled her beyond belief. He slowly stopped addressing her by Lady Orshal and, all at once, dropped the formalities. Being alone with someone for so long strengthens a relationship. They, of course, didn't have a romantic relationship, but Aragorn treated her as an older brother treats a younger, inexperienced sister.

"That is not the way you do that."

His gruff voice called her out of her memories. She turned her head to see him pointing at the small stand she had made to hold the pot out of the fire.

"It is the way I do it." She cocked her eyebrow and continued to bind sturdy sticks with thick twine she had packed in her satchel. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him turn around and begin cleaning the meat again.

"It is wrong." He grunted. Orshal took a quick breath in and snapped her head to see his hunched shoulders and back facing her. A small acorn caught her attention, calling her from its lonely home on the moist dirt. Swiftly her hand scooped up the seed and hurled it at the head of her partner, the acorn hitting its mark perfectly. Quickly she turned her focus back to her self-assigned mission to hang the pot over the fire to boil. A small smile surfaced after feeling light knock on the back of her head and seeing her tiny acorn roll back to her field of vision.

The thick night fell on their little camp. The unforgiving forest of Everholt was littered with noises of creatures that could, and would happily, tear them apart- especially the boar that the forest was famous for. Orshal reached around the outside of the fire and pulled out a few pieces of wood, causing the flames to die down and allowing them to stay partially hidden from view. Aragorn leaned against the trunk of a thick, old tree, eating his stew greedily; Orshal doing the same.

After dinner, Aragorn doused the campfire, drenching the pair in darkness immediately. Listening to the rustling of leaves and calls of crickets and other various night crawlers, Aragorn and Orshal lay side by side. Their combined body warmth provided them with enough comfort to get through the chilled night. Orshal stared at her partner's back, knowing the exact thing that was clouding his mind, because it clouded hers as well.

"Arwen thinks of you this night." She whispered lovingly to him, raising her hand and resting it on his shoulder blade. His body tensed under her hand as she mentioned the name of his mate.

"And Legolas of you." The sound was barely audible, but even the whisper of his name wrenched her heart. It was times like this that she was thankful Aragorn felt the same pain she did. It is a miracle to be loved by an elf as a human. The beauty of courtship, the ecstasy of the purest love ever known, the unbearable ache of being separated. At times Orshal would wonder if it was possible to die from the pain, but death never came. It comforted her to know she was not the only one feeling the nearly physical wounds.

Orshal pressed her cheek to the fabric on the back of his cloak, drying the single tear that journeyed down her face.

"What great fools are we." She smiled into his back. A deep chuckle reverberated through him. He reached back to her freshly calloused hand and clutched it, stroking it with his rough thumb.

"Aye."

"Orshal!"

A pained yell came from her right side. By the timbre, she could tell it was Merry, and that made her smile. She heard the thumping of his bare feet on the ground approaching her. His shadow fell over her as he kneeled beside her, a sick look plastered on his innocent features.

"Merry." The taste of blood rose in her throat as she sputtered out his name. She felt his small hand grasp hers with fervor, trying in vain to pull her back to him. She smiled over to her dear friend, weakly grasping his hand right back.

"You'll be fine." He cried, trying to convince himself more than her. She could see tears roll violently down his face as she shook her head 'no'.

"Merry," she struggled, "I do not want to die alone. Will you please stay until I am gone?"

She saw his mouth move but her ears couldn't pick up the sound. Her mind slipped back into her memory,

"Don't leave, Merry." She couldn't tell if she was actually saying it, but she could feel herself use the energy, "I'm still here."

The trees of Lothlorien stood so tall and so massive, that their branches made a beautiful network of walkways to travel between rooms that grew in the trees. Orshal leaned on her elbows against the window frame. The light blue light of the forest and the whispers of the Elven songs sung by the trees attempted to calm her weeping heart with no avail. She could close her eyes and envision Gandalf's pleading eyes as he fell from the edge of the broken stone bridge.

"Cormamin lindua ele lle." (My heart sings to see thee.)

Her eyes slowly opened as strong arms encircled her waist from behind and a hard chin cradled itself on her shoulder.

"Melamin." She replied. Orshal could feel a sad smile fall on his face. She knew Legolas was just as upset as she was that Gandalf was gone. He buried his nose in her dark hair, breathing in deeply. His touch eased her emotional aching, sending chills up her spine and flooding her brain with peace.

"What do you think it is to die?" Her voice was small and light. She could feel his discomfort. The two avoided the subject of her death often. She was sure that his heart would not be able to take it. Though he was a fierce warrior, his spirit crumbled when she was far away; death would be too far.

"I will die one day, Legolas." She turned to see his blue eyes storming with grey emotions. Her rough hand brushed against his soft cheek. His breathing increased rapidly, tightening his grip on her. Suddenly, his fair hand pushed her head forward, their lips crashing into each other. The two mixed together. Although Elves barely expressed emotion, Legolas had made an exception with his mate. His strong, long practiced facade cracked only slightly, showing her his love and passion. The intense feeling overwhelmed her human spirit. They both tasted her salty tears that dropped from her eyes as their kiss deepened.

"You will never be so far from me." He pulled away from her, his own breathing stable while hers struggled to normalize. She marveled at him. How was he so confident in this?

"You are a fool to love me." Orshal skirted past him, only to be halted in her tracks. Legolas's firm grip held her forearm. His brow furrowed, his eyes holding her eyes in their fierce gaze. She could feel his astounding love for her radiate from him. Elves, though the oldest and most malevolent beings in Middle Earth, were the hardest lovers. They were meant to bond for all of time with their mate, however, for Legolas this would be an impossibility, but this would not quench his love for her.

"I promise you this, Orshal. There is no where you may go that I will not follow."

"Merry." Orshal ran her thumb along the crease of his small hand. She could see the mixture of blood and filth on his beautiful face mingle with the sweat the cluttered his forehead and fell down to his chin.

"It should not be like this." He gritted his teeth and vomited his bitter words out of his mouth. Anger at every foul creature that crawled out of Mordor well up within him. "You should be with Legolas. You should have children and die in a warm bed at an old age."

Orshal let out a laugh, or tried to atleast.

"Do you know what my name means in Elvish?" she spoke slowly. Her light was fading. Merry's ears strained to hear the precious words that flowed from her mouth. He simply shook his head 'no' and held her hand closer to his chest.

"It means sacrifice." Orshal coughed, blood seeping out of her mouth, "I was always meant to die." she took a rough, ragged breath, "Here. Today. Now. With you by my side. My sweet Merry."

Using her ever-draining energy, she lifted her hand to her throat, fingering the necklace that once was her mother's. A silver rose intertwined with clear crystals.

"Sweet Merry, please. Give this to Legolas."

Her eye sight dimmed. She could only feel nimble fingers fumble across her neck followed by the slight tingle of the chain slipping away from her.

"Tell him." Her eyes widened as she choked on the blood that began to pool in her chest. Fear raced through her as she struggled to breathe. She knew Merry was crying for her to finish. With the last of her will, she forced her mouth to form the words she needed him to hear. She pushed the last of her breath out of her body, only allowing her sentence to leave her as a whisper.

"Do not follow me, Melamin."

She picked up her head from the pillow, letting her dark hair fall to the side. Her elbows formed a prop as she lifted her torso from the silken sheets. Morning light streamed through the windows of her bedroom, illuminating her naked skin and the skin of her bedmate. She looked over at him, knowing he had been awake all night watching her sleep. Laying on his left side, he moved his hand from its position in front of him and reached to her, dragging it along her back and leaving goosebumps in its wake.

"Good morning, Melamin."

She stretched her arms to him, rolling onto her side and revealing her breast. A quick breath was drawn from his side of the bed making Orshal smirk, encouraging her to proceed. The smooth sheets wrinkled underneath her knees as she crawled over to him, straddling his waist and massaging his chest with her hands. His beautiful elven features seemed almost unreal to her. The long blonde hair that scattered behind him cascaded down the sides of the pillow that caressed his head. Leaning down, she ran her lips across his neck, up to the bottom of his ear.

A strangled grunt came from his throat as she skirted along the outer rim of his ear with her tongue. Elves ears were very sensitive organs. The first time she accidentally brushed the tip with her fingers, he had grabbed her arm with such speed and force, he almost separated it from her body. Instantly, his member grew hard between her legs, coaxing a moan out of her. His hands travelled down her sides, settling on her waist and forcing her to sit, taking his member into her wanting sex. Throwing her head back, she let out a gentle cry of relief and satisfaction.

Lights shown around her, the sun blending with bursts of color that her brain generated to help her cope with the extreme pleasure. She called his name, crying to over and over until her voice could no longer support it. Things that worried her she could no longer remember. The details of where she was and how she had gotten there seemed so unimportant. Only she and he existed.

She lay in his arms, sweat that glazed her tanned skin meshed with the sweat on his cream colored skin. Pushing her head into the crook of his neck, she closed her eyes contently.

"I want to stay here with you. For the rest of eternity." her words came out as a whisper, but resinating in his ears. His fingers entangled themselves in her wet hair, bringing her head closer to his lips and crowning it with a kiss.

"I will follow you into eternity and there we will stay." He spoke, taking her captive with his words. A haze suddenly fell over her. She fought against her eyelids that threatened by growing heavier and heavier by the second.

"Legolas..." she breathed, her eyes closing, "I don't want to fall asleep. Don't leave me."

He shhed her quietly, stroking her hair softly. Her breathing slowed, shallowing as sleep overtook her. "Fuume, Melamin."

She tried once more, struggling against the drowsiness that battled her. Her fingers tightened on him, not wanting to fade away from the moment. She pleaded with herself to stay awake, but finally fell to the intruder. The warmth of him comforted her, easing her into the state of unconsciousness. A weak smile surfaced on her lips as her head fell back, totally relaxed. She no longer felt the fear of being apart from him. No ache plagued her. No pain clawed at her mind. A bright glow radiated around her, lifting her spirit to new heights. Peace filled her like a river rushing into her. With one last breath, his name fell from her lips. Finality breaking into her. It was over and eternity was the only thing left for her. He seemed so far from her, but she knew it was only for a short time. The glow brightened, melting away the feeling of his arms around her body.

"I will follow you." His voice faded from her hearing. She felt herself smile peacefully. "My love."

Fading into the light, she spread her arms. Nothing from her life came to her. She could remember nothing. The beauties of Middle Earth, her faithful partner, the pain of death. Her name faded from her memory, but a word surfaced in her mind. Something of mystery to her. She held this word close to her, a precious treasure. Happiness abounded within her when she spoke it. She would only speak it when alone, hugging her arms across her chest, breathing it out into the air, her eyes closed in ecstasy.

"Legolas."

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