*sob* I've just come back from my friend's funeral, so I'm really depressed. In an attempt to cheer myself up I'm re-posting this fic to try and get a couple more reviews. Self-centered (or should that be elf- centered?) I know. But whaddya gunna do? *sniff* Poor Laurieā€¦didn't deserve to die.

Oh, yeah, I'm not a Legolas fanatic (Frodo's the one for me) but Orlando Bloom's looks lend themselves to being described like this. Sorry.

By the water

The night wrapped the glade in its velvety soft nothingness and caressed the edges of the clearing with elegant fingers, as it watched the dying fire with a tangible mistrust. Soft sounds came from the sleepers within the glade's boundaries. Sounds of sleep, sounds of rest. An elf crouched on the outskirts of the area, silent and thoughtful as he sat out the first watch of the night. His gracefully curved back lay against the trunk of a gnarled tree as he examined his arrows for the kinks that could mean it's shooting off in an unintended direction. A mistake like that would be fatal and unforgivable.

A sound reached his highly sensitive ears and he roused himself from his seated position. The dying embers crackled slightly in the fire, and gave out no more light as he stood. The luminescence of the moon shone though the trees above him and caught his elegantly high forehead and regal nose making his pale skin seem to glow. He took two silent steps forward and paused, listening. The noise sounded again, a rustle, like the one made when a piece of clothing slides past another. Standing at his full height he surveyed the sleepers. Two men lay on the opposite side of the circle and a dwarf near them. A slight look of amusement crossed the elf's handsome features as he thought of their friendship. His friends at home in Mirkwood would laugh so, if they knew. His gaze flicked next to the mound of gray elvish-made cloaks from which slight snoring could be heard. At close inspection, three heads of curly hair could be seen and one or two pairs of furry feet stuck out of the bundle. The elf frowned slightly. He knew not what, but he knew that something was amiss from the scene, despite the absence of Gandalf the Grey. It hit him suddenly.

"Frodo. . ." he whispered. He checked again, but the Ringbearer was not with the other hobbits. The noise sounded again and this time it was accompanied with a choked sob. Determined, the elf searched for its source. It was found, huddled behind a tree not far from the clearing. Sinking to his knees beside it, he gathered it into his arms and rocked it gently as it cried. He began to murmur in his own tongue to the hobbit. Words of unmistakable beauty but of empty content. "Shhh, Frodo. Everything will work out eventually" he whispered in the common tongue. The Hobbit looked up sharply.

"Do not patronize me, Legolas" He hissed sharply in reply, before withdrawing again, the harshness lost from both his voice and his eyes. "The Lady Galadriel showed me. . ." the halfling's shoulders shook in the elf's embrace.

"Showed you what?" Legolas replied, although he had heard of the Lady's mirror, and knew full well what Frodo had seen.

"I know what's going to happen if. . .if I do not succeed. All will crumble, all will be in pain. All will die, because of me." Frodo whispered, fixing the elf with his impossibly wide blue gaze. Legolas returned the look as he measured out his reply in his head.

"It is true that a great weight rests on your shoulder, peredhil, but we all help to bear it. You will not be alone with this burden." Legolas was satisfied with his answer, but the pain and hurt in Frodo's eyes didn't lessen.

"She told me. . ." a dry sob wreaked his body "She told me that I have to do it alone. I'm a ringbearer. It is my destiny to be alone. I must make my way into Mordor on my own. Without the Fellowship. I wish I had Gandalf's council. It would soothe me so." Frodo pushed his way out of the shocked arms of Legolas and began to walk back to the glade.

"Frodo, wait." Legolas called at length. The Hobbit turned and the elf quickly made his way over to him. He kneeled, so they were looking eye to eye once again and lowered his voice. "I am not Gandalf, but I offer some relief of your agony. If that is what you mean to do, then you have my blessings on your quest. I will go on to Minas Tirith with Boromir and Aragorn, although my thoughts will be with you." Silent, they regarded one another. A small smile crept onto Frodo's face.

"Thank you." He whispered. Legolas stood again and they returned to the camp. Frodo looked at Sam, who lay by Merry and Pippin. Noticing this, Legolas frowned slightly.

"You will miss him, will you not? And I fear he will miss you even more" He studied the Halfling as Frodo replied.

"Of course I will. He's my best friend. He's fiercely loyal, and that has helped me so many times on this journey. I love him dearly." Frodo sighed. "I do not know how to tell him. I fear it will break his heart, and that is not the last thing I want to see of him. I do not expect I will return to make happier memories."

"He will be devastated, but if you mean to go alone, then he must stay here" Legolas agreed. "When do you propose to leave?"

"I was thinking of leaving quite soon" Frodo said eventually, after a long pause in which is gaze never left Sam. "What do you think?" Legolas' line of vision flicked between Frodo and Sam. Pity passed across his elegant features before it was fought back down.

"We pass the Argonath in two days time, then it's two days to Tol Brandir. I say you should leave just after then. It will leave you time to say goodbye to all of them in your own way." The hobbit considered the elf's words for a few moments.

"Then it is decided. Four more days on the Anduin, then I leave when we are between Amon Lhaw and Amon Hen." Frodo murmured, a small smile playing with the corners of his mouth. He became worried suddenly. "Legolas, you will not speak of this talk with the others, will you?" His blue eyes peered up at the elf with infinite sadness. Legolas bent over and pressed his lips to the Hobbit's head gently.

"Do not worry, Frodo. I will not speak a word." He whispered, returning to his arrows, lying in their quiver by the tree.

"Thank you, Legolas" Frodo told the elf's retreating back. The elf smiled in the moonlight.

"Lle creoso, peredhil. Lle creoso."


Didja like? Didja? If yes, tell me! P.S. 'Lle creoso' means 'You're welcome' and [duh] 'Peredhil' means 'Halfling'


Laurie Suckling


We'll never forget.