This was my very first fanfiction, and I just decided to post it here to keep everything I've written on this archive. I'm a fan of both the books and the movies, but this was inspired by a scene from "The Two Towers" film, taken definitely AU. The idea, though, comes from reading plenty of other Middle Earth books and researching canon elven relationships and such. Oh, and I borrowed some inspiration - a couple of lines - from Mercedes Lackey's 'The Last Herald-Mage' trilogy, which I highly recommend.

Warnings: You might need tissues. Slash. Angst. Written at three am and unbeta'd.


Fading


As I stood on that grey cliff, looking over the rushing water that had carried my love away, I knew then that they were wrong.

They say that when the one you love dies it will burn you. The burn flaming as hot as a volcano . . . at first. That the flames die slowly away, leaving you pale and lifeless. That the fire is all that holds you, here without your love. That your light, your fire, will fade until you die of your grief.

They are wrong.

My love, my only, is dead. I can barely believe it, even now, though I know it to be truth.

But they are wrong.

I do not burn. The fire does not hold me here, flaming hot with desire for revenge. The fire does not consume me, nor is it all that is left of me.

They are wrong.

They say that when the light of your life has departed you will see no other's light. Feel no other's touch.

They are wrong.

I see my friends, my companions. I feel their worry for me. I feel their own grief at the death of my love. I see their lights, but dim, as if far off. Too far for the light to do anything but taunt me. Taunt me and remind me of that which I have lost.

They are wrong.

They say that you feel nothing. Nothing but your loss, your grief, your pain, that unquenchable, aching and burning hole in the fabric of your soul.

They are wrong.

They say that you feel dulled, as a blade over-sharpened. They say no other can touch you, not truly. No other can reach your heart.

They are wrong.

I have not been dulled. I have been sharpened. So impossibly sharp that I cut myself on the shards of my heart, shattered as it is by my pain. I feel the others, though not many here dare to touch me, whether out of the fear they mistakenly hold for my kind, or pity for my grief, which is bared for all to see in a way I have never bared myself. Never, for anyone but he. I feel them, fleetingly, upon the surface of my heart, but there is no room for anything but he. And my pain.

They are wrong.

I do not burn. I freeze.

~Fin~


I realise that this is not the best, and I overused my device, but this was my first fic, and rewriting something that practically wrote itself was too hard at the time. Now... I just feel I should leave it as-is, sort of as a record, you know? I hope you enjoyed it.