~*~This may take a moment to explain- but trust me- you'll want to read it:~*~

~First, about the story: It is divided into very small chapters for a reason- I read stories easier when they are divided into small, small, pieces and I know many people who prefer them that way as well. When in smaller portions on a computer monitor, the stories don't seem like such a daunting piece of literature to read- and therefore are more enjoyable. Have no fear however, this story is complete~! Not all parts will be posted at once however, to allow for different people to read the story.

~I might as well place an Alternate Universe label on this story for reasons which will become obvious as the story progresses. This is not a Mary-Sue, in fact, the main character of the story is Legolas himself.

~Reviews: Are wanted but I will not beg for them and if you don't like the story- please tell me why, don't just flame me without giving me logical reasons. Trust me, you really cannot hurt my feelings- please tell me if you have arguments with my storyline or characters! (Now- to narrow that down a bit- I have to give the elves in this story a few "mortal" characteristics- like envy, hate, etc. These attributes, while uncommon amongst elves, are not unheard of- a la Feanor…so no flames about making the elves too "human-like".)

~Oh, yes, almost forgot to mention that my last name is not Tolkien- I humbly revere the master who created these worlds and I write only out of respect and admiration for his work. Well, that about wraps the scene~ 

"Trenerin narnen…"

The end had come. It had come without a herald, without a flourish; it had come with the cold sighs of destiny the depthless black eyes of death. Regrets? Did he have any? He didn't think so- only…

He hadn't expected it to turn out this way. Perhaps that wasn't correct- he hadn't hoped it would turn out this way. Yet…yet she had seen it, she had known it all along. Hadn't she warned him? Hadn't she shown him? He couldn't remember now…now it didn't seem so terribly important. He had never considered himself a breakable or emotional man; his truer self had been shown only to one other throughout the whole of his life. The thought of that man he had been and the reality of the man he had become brought tears of mirth weighed with humility. A crying, broken man he sat, watching the bright redness about him grow greater and greater.

            Where had he mislaid his judgment? When had his calculations coldly turned their accusing fingers towards him? When had the end begin rolling towards him with the subtle ferocity of a growing wave in the ocean?

            Perhaps he was wrong in those answers as well- perhaps the story began before he had even recognized what was building about him and biding its time; waiting for his weakest moment to strike with a fury none could withstand. Hadn't it all started upon that summer's day when he discovered her? Or had the seeds been planted many years before that day…before the eyes of Írime had opened and seen…seen…the end.

            He had returned from the wars a hero amongst those of his father's realm. With triumph and pride he had ridden through the city gates, basking in the glow of the afternoon sun and secretly thinking it shone for him alone. The evening had been bright and his mind had been elsewhere…dwelling upon his own victories, laden with his own thoughts of home and the love he had left behind so long ago. Was it then that the gyre had opened? That the abyss had begun to swallow him without a sound or cry for help?