For 100 years, Legolas has been separated from his once closest friend - an incident that he blames himself for. And for 100 years, Elanor has blamed herself for what happened the day she left Mirkwood.
But Fate has brought them together again. Wil...
Elanor stood in her tent, going over the plans in her mind. Braen had just left and she knew that she should sleep as they had been riding for so long to get there, but sleep would not find her. So instead she paced around, wringing her hands together.
Tomorrow they would be at the Black Gate. They would draw out Sauron's army in the hopes they could give Frodo and Sam the fighting chance that they needed. But there was no way to know if it would work. It was a fool's hope, she knew this. But it was the path they must take.
It was their last hope if they wanted to win this war and save Middle Earth.
"Elanor."
She stopped and turned, seeing Legolas stepping in through the front flap of the tent. He wore his weapons - they all did when out on the chance they might be attacked being so close to Mordor. But as he walked in, he took them off, leaving them on a table. They regarded each other a few moments before Elanor strode to him, wrapping her arms around him.
She cared not that she was dressed in only breeches and a loose tunic. All she wanted was to feel his arms around her.
She did not wish to think that this could be her last time in his embrace. Their last chance to be alone. That after tomorrow, one or both of them would be gone.
Legolas guided her to look up at him, gently caressing her cheek.
"No tears, Elanor," he whispered. "Not this night."
"But tomorrow-"
"We will face whatever awaits together," he said softly.
He then lowered his lips to hers, stealing her breath away with that one kiss. She gripped the front of his tunic, feeling as though she would fall apart if she let go of him. If he let go of her.
When he stepped back, staring deep into her eyes, Elanor saw a fire burning in their depths. A fire that matched her own.
"Stay," she whispered. "Stay with me tonight."
He looked away and she could see the passion in his eyes. He wanted to, though wished to follow the traditions of their kind. There was a time when Elanor herself would find the suggestion unseemly, but these were not normal times.
She cared not what they did, only that she could at least go into battle having fallen asleep in his arms at least once. Perhaps they would win and they could spend the rest of their years discovering each other on a completely new plane. Or perhaps they would die and all they would have was this one night.
She could see in his eyes that he felt the same, though he would fight it.
"Elanor," he said, the strain clear in his voice, still not looking at her. She guided him to look at her.
"We do not know if we have more than this night... stay," she asked, her eyes urging him to do her bidding. He sighed and bent down to her, pressing a heated kiss upon her lips.
"I will stay," he murmured. A smile broke across her face as she walked backwards, leading him to her cot.
"For if I do not live through tomorrow, at least I die knowing that I stayed with you this once..."
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