He went to their wedding. What choice did he have? After the end of the fellowship, after the ring had been destroyed they had gone their seperate ways. He had returned to the ruling of his people and they theirs. Odd that they had all been of nobility. Except of course the hobbits, but even Sam was no a ruler.

The wedding brought them back together at Rivendell as it had before, the day that started it all. The day of the fateful council meeting. He dismounted his massive war horse llightly and looked about him. It had been only recently that he had been here last. It had been a lifetime ago. He was dimly aware that the rest of his party was also dismounting. Without sparing a glance he handed the reins to one of the company and walked, lost in memory.

This had been where they had come together. The first time he had seen Boromir, Gimli, the Hobbits. The first time he'd seen the cursed ring that had cost Boromir his life and nearly destroyed them all. How could two short years seem like such a vast ammount of time to a creature three thousand years old, he wondered as he walked.

So lost in thought he was that he did not notice Arwen until he'd nearly run her over.

"My apologies" he said quietly, formally.

"Legolas? Is that you?" She asked, shocked at his appearance. He seemed thinner than when she'd seen him last. Paler and less substantial. Of course the demands upon him since then had been heavy.

"Who else would you take me for?" he said with a wan smile.

"I'm sorry" she said smoothly. "it is just, I was startled. I did not expect you until this evening." she lied smoothly. In truth she hadn't reconized him because he looked horrible.

"You have never been a good liar Arwen." He said and shoved a hand through his loose hair. Arwen's sharp eyes noticed that at that movment he dislodged a handful of hair. She blinked. She knew he'd had a hard, very hard couple of years at Mirkwood, but never guessed it was this bad. If she had she would have told both Aragorn and her father to go to hell and gone to her friend.

"I'm sorry for your losses." she said quietly, deciding that dancing about the issue would accomplish nothing.

He shrugged slightly by way of response. "T'is the way of things."

"Still, I am sorry. I would have come but."

"It is alright Arwen" He said a bit more firmly, but just a bit. "What's done is done and no ammount of regret will change it."

He'd cut her off and shut down. She realized he was not about to discuss his grief with her. The loss of the King and his oldest son had left many heavy hearted. None more so than his remaining son, now forced to rule a kingdom he did not want.

Legolas watched her. He could almost hear her thoughts so long they had known one another. She thought the loss of his father was what grieved him and was responsible for his condition. That or perhaps the strain of rule. Neither was entirely accurate, neither was entirely inaccurate.

"How long will you be staying."

"Until after the wedding, I hope by several days. It will be nice to be away from Mirkwood for a while."

"Yes. I imagine that it would."

"You're going to Gondor after the ceremony?"

"Yes." She paused and then continued, struck with sudden thought. "Oh Aragorn! He'll never forgive me for not telling him you're here!"

"Arwen, peace!" He said with a faint chuckle. "I have ony just arrived You both know where to find me" To himself he added, Much as I wish you did not.

---

In his room removing his cloak and unpacking his few belongings, was fast escaping him. He was no fool, he knew exactly what was wrong with him. He didn't want to die, but life, like time was sliding through his fingers. Yet as time had passed, he found himself wondering seriously how long this could go on. He was exhausted, and slowly but surely the desire for life was draining from him.

Walking out onto the balcony he stood and looked at the panorama of beauty. Rivendell was beautiful, even by elven standards. He leaned unconsciously on the wall for support. This had been going on so long, and had happened so gradually that he was used to the all pervasive weakness. The slowness of it, the gradual deterioation had also kept those who saw him daily from questioning him too closely.

Arwen of course had seen immediately that something was very very wrong. Aragorn and the others would no doubt react similarly. He sighed. Had he been able to avoid this event he would have. He had no desire to be here.

Much as he missed the people with whom he had shared so much, he knew that they would ask questions. Those questions he did not want to answer and he would not. He thought to himself as he looked down into the river than ran through Rivendell. These people deserved peace and happiness. After all they'd lost, and all they'd been through he would not allow what should be a joyous occasion to be shadowed by his presence.


The wedding was beautiful and touching.

It was also all consuming. Arwen and Argorn, and to a lesser degree Gimli and the hobbits, had been caught up in the festivities and controlled chaos of planning, socializing, eating and drinking. Sharing memories and catching up on things that had passed since they'd last been together.

It consumed them and captivated them. They were so happy to be back here and to be together under joyous circumstances that they didn't notice, or did not choose to notice, how quiet their elven friend was. He interjected the occasional comment. Smiled and laughed when it was appropriate. Otherwise he said very little. They also did not notice that he had not eaten.

While the company of friends didn't notice. . . The Lord of Rivendell did. He was intimately accquainted with the symptoms of an elf dying from grief. Far too intimately for his comfort. None-the-less, he knew beyond a doubt what he was seeing and it saddened him greatly as he watched him with the odd assortment of creatures of middle earth> Dwaf and Hobbit, Man and Elf. The din of laughter surrounded him but did not touch him. He looked simply. . . tired.

Legolas was fading and no force on this earth could stop it.

---

That night he went to Legolas' quarters. He was surprised to find him asleep. Deeply asleep with his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open.

Trying to rouse him proved difficult but was eventually successful. When Legolas sat up he looked around, disoriented and groggy.

"Easy" Elrond said quietly. Legolas blinked at him and rubbed a hand over his face.

"Elrond." He said and then stopped to clear his throat when his voice came out more croak than not. He tried again. "What are you doing in my room at this time of night."

"I wished to speak with you without disturbing the others, or rising questions you do not want to answer."

"Ah." Legolas knew that the other elf knew.

"Who?" the darker elf asked after some time.

"No one."

"Legolas. . " He began patiently. "That is not possible."

"No one." he repeated and then shook his head slightly. "At least anymore."

"They're dead." Elrond said. It was not a question. "How long as this been going on?" He asked as gently as possible, thinking to pin down the person.

"Years." Legolas said with a sigh and sat abruptly.

Elrond winced. He knew too well the physical and emmotional pain he was in. How had it gone on so long? Why had Legolas not made the decision? Why was he letting it go on like this?

"Why. . .?"

"Why am I still here?" Legolas laughed bitterly. "Because I could not leave Elrond." He looked up and his eyes showed every day of his nearly three thousand years. "The quest had to go on, had to continue. Aragorn needed me. Mirkwood needed me. "

"You can't go on like this forever little one." he said kindly. Little one. How fitting that seemed now.

"I know." he replied simply. "I was just not quiet finished yet."

"What was left for you to do?" He hated himself for sounding as though he were pushing him to death, but he'd watched one fade and die. The thought of Legolas being like this for years was more than he could bear. Hurting, miserable, and dying in inches. It was not right. Elves were immortal. They could not die from sickness or age. Yet they did die. Battle, posion and grief. All normallyquick and clean. Dignified deaths. Not thing slow, lingering, agony Legolas was subjecting himself to for some reason that he could not even begin to grasp.

"I needed to see them."

Elrond knew he was talking about the companions he'd travelled and fought with.

"To know they were happy. To see Arwen and Estel married. He loves her so much. . ." He said sounding wistful.

"I see." It was all he could say. He knew they didn't know. Knew Legolas wouldn't tell them.

"Elrond" Legolas said suddenly turning toward him with a slight grimace as he stumbled forward. He was caught easily and held in strong arms that reminded him of his father.

He shuddered at the tearing, burning, pain that ripped through him. He was dimly aware of the hands that held him. Stroking his hair and rubbing his back lightly. He groaned quietly into the other's shoulder.

"Shhhh." Elrond muttered and rocked gently. Instinctivly trying to comfort him. He tried to pull back and Elrond held him firmly, keeping him still. "Wait it out Legolas. . . I am fine."

The blonde elf relaxed back into him and let him support his weight. Gods he was tired. . . He pulled back as it passed, still exhausted. More tired than he could remember being and looked toward the balcony. Staggering slightly he made his way out to it and looked into the sky.

The night was brilliant. The sky was clear and there was no moon. The only light was the light of a million stars set in the deep black velvet of space. He sat against the wall and continued to look up into the stars.

He didn't hear Elrond when he followed him out, but when he sat beside him he leaned on him, moving into the warmth of the other and drawing comfort from it.

"I'm tired." he said quietly.

"I know. You should rest" Elrond replied, but made no move to suggest he go to bed or leave himself. He wasn't talking about sleep.

"Yes." he answered, but continued to look into the night.

"In spite of it all, the world is a beautiful place."

"Yes. It is."

Legolas sighed and began to drift. Caught somewhere between dream and wakefulness, on the very edge between life and death. Elrond felt he was waiting. . . for something. The night passed slowly for the Lord of Rivendell. Legolas was barely breathing, and he was freezing cold, icy to the touch as he faded. He was also disturbed frequently and cried out or flinched frequently in very obvious pain.

Finally Legolas stirred and awareness came slowly back to his eyes.

"How long?"

Elrond didn't know what to say, or how to answer that question.

"dawn" Legolas continued.

"Not long. Perhaps half an hour."

"Good. Wake me." Then he was gone again, staring vacantly at the eastern horizon. Leaving the Lord of this palce to wonder how to tell the guests in his home that Legolas had come here to see them so he could die from grief for. . .who? Who?

It came to him in a flash Boromir. Estle had told him when they'd returned that he'd been afraid he was going to loose Legolas immediately following his death. He'd moved on, at Aragorn's pleading. He'd needed him. They'd all needed him. So he'd seemed to snap out of it.

Now, years later, it was painfully apparent that he had not done any such thing.

He was roused from his thoughts as the sky began to lighten.

"Legolas. Wake up." he said quietly but firmly and shook the still elf sharply. He had wanted to see the sun rising and he was going to. . .AH there.

"Mm. Thank you." he said vaugely and watched the horizon fade to purple and the stars fade with the coming dawn.

Legolas breathing was growing shallower and the pulse against his hand was slowing further. . . Suddenly he roused and said quietly firmly. "Thank you Elrond."

Then he was gone, as the sun rose and the stars faded away, over powered by a brighter light.