He's gone. The one being more precious to me than anything else I've ever held dear is gone. His lips, usually warm and responsive, are now stiff and cold. I can feel his entire body hardening under my hands, succumbing to the cruel embrace of death. His wonderful gray eyes that once held such a loving gaze are now empty, completely devoid of life. I knew that I would eventually have to look at them like this, cold and glazed, but not this soon. Gently, I lay a hand over them and close the lids, then I kiss each one. A tear escapes my eyes and lands on his grime covered cheek.

I hear Aragorn move quietly behind me and I can anticipate what he is going to say.

"Legolas, I'm sorry to have to say this but we cannot stay here. We have to move on."

My eyes still lingering upon Boromir's face, I answer him, "I know. But we cannot leave him like this, we must give him a proper burial, one worthy of him, of the man that he was..." My voice trembles at this last word. I feel Aragorn place his hand on my shoulder in a comforting manner.

"That I leave up to you. Whatever you decide, we will do, but I must remind you, time is pressing."

Time. I wish time would stand still, that this second be infinite so I could spend an eternity admiring your countenance, an eternity in which to hold you and cherish you, even if I am only holding onto a memory. But I am not to have my wish, time is fleeting. With each minute we remain here Merry and Pippin are carried further away from us. I made a promise to you, my love, and I will not break it. As long as I can draw breath, I will hold true to it, neither sleep nor weariness will overcome me until I see them safe.

But first I must tend to him and what is to be his final resting place, a duty which I hoped I would not have to do for many years. Digging a cavity in the ground to hold his body would take to long, likewise would be the building of a cairn and he would not wish me to tarry so.

"We will place him in one of the boats along with his weapons and those of his fallen enemies and send him over the Falls of Rauros. The river will take care of his body, maybe even take him as far as the sea."

"A fitting funeral for a noble man. We shall do so. Do you want help carrying him?"

"No, I can bear him."

Carefully, I take him into my arms and I stand. Already his body feels so alien, his once plaint muscles are now drawn taut; the cold of his skin chills my bones. His is not a light body, but the weight does not bother me. Soon I will have to relinquish it forever, so I'll treasure every moment.

We arrive at the shore and gently I lay him on one of the boats. My eyes stray to the three black arrows that have pierced his strong frame. I am loath to handle them, I fear their vile touch will burn me, yet I cannot tolerate seeing them mar his flesh. I firmly grab one of them and tug it cautiously until the foul implement comes out. Some blood emerges from the wound and I swiftly dab at it with my sleeve so it will not ruin his clothing further. I repeat the process with the other two, then I remove his elven cloak and cushion his head with it. I tenderly arrange his long, auburn hair, knowing it will be the last chance I have to caress those strands. Gimli and Aragorn set the weapons beneath his feet while I array his broken sword and his fractured horn on his lap. His shield I set beside him.

"Legolas, it's time."

No, I want to say, it is too soon, too soon, just a few more minutes, give me a few more moments with him, don't make me leave him yet. But I know these words would be in vain. I have to let you go.

I lift his hands to his chest and accommodate the fingers to grasp the hilt of his sword. Holding onto them, I lean down and kiss one, then I move forward and place another lingering kiss on his forehead.

"Be safe, my love. Do not worry, I will not leave your work unfinished. Maybe we will meet again, if the gods are kind."

My eyes water again; I wipe at them with the back of my hand before any tears can fall. I take a deep, shaky breath.

"I'm... I'm ready." I'm really not, but I don't think I ever will be, and we must continue.

We tie the prow of our boat to the stern of his and drive them both into the water. We paddle as far as we can to where the water picks up its pace preceding the falls and let lose his boat. My breath catches and the tears rise unbidden as I observe him slowly drift off towards the horizon.

"No, come back... don't..." the whispered words die in my throat as the face I love more than life slowly vanishes from my sight. I bend my head and struggled to control the sobs that threatened to erupt from my chest. I lift my hand to my eyes; tears escape the closed lids. My breath trembles.

"They will look for him from the White Tower, but he will not return from mountain or from sea."

Aragorn sings now, a mournful dirge in honor of Boromir.

Through Rohan over fen and field where the long grass grows
The West Wind comes walking, and about the walls it goes.
'What news from the West, O wandering wind, do you bring to me tonight?
Have you seen Boromir the Tall by moon or by starlight?'
'I saw him ride over seven streams, over waters wide and grey;
I saw him walk in empty lands, until he passed away
Into the shadows of the North. I saw him then no more.
The North Wind may have heard the horn of the son of Denethor.'
'O Boromir! From the high walls westward I looked afar,
But you came not from the empty lands where no men are.'

It tears at me, the words, the question, for it is never to be, never will he be found again. Nevertheless, I lift my voice to continue the bitter melody, my heart bleeding with every word that passes my lips.

From the mouths of the Sea the South Wind flies, from the sand hills and the stones;
The wailing of the gulls it bears, and at the gate it moans.
'What news from the South, O sighing wind, do you bring to me At eve?
Where now is Boromir the Fair? He tarries and I grieve.'
'Ask not of me where he doth dwell--so many bones there lie
On the white shores and the dark shores under the stormy sky;
So many have passed down Anduin to find the flowing Sea.
Ask of the North Wind news of them the South Wind sends to me!'
'O Boromir! Beyond the gate the seaward road runs south,
But you came not with the wailing gulls from the grey sea's mouth.'
I have not the strength to finish, my voice fails me. Aragorn must continuefor me.

From the Gate of Kings the North Wind rides, and past the roaring falls;
And clear and cold about the tower its loud horn calls.
'What news from the North, O mighty wind, do you bring to me today?
'What news of Boromir the Bold? For he is long away.'
'Beneath Amon Hen I heard his cry. There many foes he fought.
His cloven shield, his broken sword, they to the water brought.
His head so proud, his face so fair, his limbs they laid to rest;
And Rauros, golden Rauros-falls, bore him upon its breast.'
'O Boromir! The Tower of Guard shall ever northward gaze
To Rauros, golden Rauros-falls, until the end of days.'

I raise my eyes and look towards the edge of the falls where my love has found his final destiny. My vision blurs; tears beset me once more. My soul quakes at the near-fatal blow of the knowledge that his fair face is never to be seen by my eyes again.

For only one day have we been following the orcs' tracks and yet to me it feels like an eternity. My sense of time has changed so much in the past days. Before this quest I gave it the same attention all elves do, moving through the centuries easily and hardly noticing their passing. But with Boromir, every minute, every second became essential. The moments we shared together seemed to stretch out into the ages and become infinite, yet soon, too soon, the sun colored the sky. I realized the brevity of our time together and I was afraid, afraid of losing him. My fears were well founded.

Now time is stagnated, I feel each minute more keenly than I did before, because I don't have him by my side. The first night without him seemed endless. As we sped through the forest, the only thoughts that came to me were the image of his face, the sound of his voice, his infectious laugh. I ran wildly, tears I was barely aware of flowing down my face. My heart is an aching wound; I hurt so badly I never thought it possible. Only one thing keeps me from collapsing on the ground, closing my eyes, and never opening them again. Merry and Pippin. They are in the filthy beasts' hands and I will not have them suffer one more minute with them than they have to. The orcs take further and further away from us, our speed is no match for theirs. No matter how swiftly we travel, how determined our step, they elude us.

Earlier Aragorn found the brooch of an elven-cloak lying near Pippin's footprints. They strayed from the orc tracks, he probably tried to escape but his flight couldn't have lasted long. He wished to leave behind a token so that we may know where to pursue them. Boromir's affection was not ill founded; they have proven themselves braver than I originally took them for.

We have stopped to rest now that night has fallen again, yet I cannot do so. My heart is too grieved. The orcs won't stop marching during the night; I fear we will lose all hope of meeting up with them soon, or at all. It is as if some force aids them, giving them speed. How am I to keep my promise to Boromir? How can I respect his wishes if the forces align in the enemy's favor?

Oh Boromir, why did you have to leave me? Life no longer holds any joy for me; the leaves have withered and fallen and the flowers will not bloom again. The night we used to share and fill with sweet words and actions is now empty. It misses you, my love, I miss you, I miss you terribly. My heart aches; it has been injured beyond repair. I look up at the stars, stars that were witness to our love. Their bright light seems dulled somehow, perhaps they grieve with me.

"You have not rested this night, have you?"

It is Aragorn, he has awoken. I have been too troubled by my thoughts to notice. I hear him move behind me. I don't turn around to face him, I cannot do so yet.

"I know you are hurting. I know what Boromir meant to you."

I shake my head slightly. Tears sting my eyes again.

"How can you know what I feel? The pain, it eats at me. I can't bear to feel this agony, to live this way. How am I supposed to live without him?"

He moves closer to me and places his arm around my shoulders. I welcome the solace offered by a dear friend, but it is small comfort.

"I know what you think of," Aragorn said. "I do not claim to know Boromir's mind but I know he would not want that for you."

"What are you saying, that I have to live for him? How, Aragorn? How can I live when all I feel is anguish?"

"It will get better. It will take time and the hurt will not diminish completely, but it will become bearable, trust me. Alas, we are not allowed the opportunity to grieve him properly."

Aragorn's words calm me a little, but only a little. My heart still aches. I gaze towards the north and I remember our most present problem.

"There is one last wish of his which I am afraid I will not accomplish. The two hobbits we search for, he gave his life in their defense. I promised him I would not rest until I saw them safe, yet now I doubt I will do so. They are far, far away." I turn my head to Aragorn. "I know in my heart that they have not rested this night. Only an eagle could overtake them now."

"Nonetheless we will still follow as we may."

He rouses Gimli and informs him that we are to continue on our trek, even though I think it hopeless.

"I fear they have passed beyond my sight from hill or plain, under moon or sun."

I despair of seeing them again, for they are now beyond our reach.

They are safe. After all our hardships we have finally found them. And not only are they unharmed but they are smoking pipe-weed and have just feasted. I am so gladdened by this sight that I let out the first laugh I have emitted since Lothlórien. At first they ignore us and exchange words only with Théoden and Gandalf until Gimli protests about it, then they acknowledge us. He is excited about seeing them, as am I. When Aragorn, Gimli, and I were left alone with the hobbits I demand a full account of what has occurred since we last parted. But that has to wait until we have eaten; Gimli insists and in truth we have not eaten since early morning so a repast is welcome. The hobbits join us. Since first meeting with these creatures I have often marveled at how much they eat despite their small size. They appear healthier than when we saw them last, which does not seem so strange once they say they drank the water of the Ents. Odd songs have been sung regarding those waters.

As soon as they eat they set themselves to smoke some of the of the tobacco they have found. I let them enjoy the rare moments of calm and peace, although my own soul does not share it as much as I would like. The loss of Boromir still weighs heavily on my heart. The story I am so anxiously waiting to hear is not only that of the Ents and their dealings with the orcs, but the circumstances surrounding his death. I need to know how it happened, I need to make sense of the man that I found broken on the ground. I lie still gazing up at the sky with the sun shining on my face, trying to appear composed but I'm sure Aragorn can guess at my real feelings.

After a while in silence I can wait no longer and I sit up.

"Come now!" I say fighting to keep the tension from my voice. " Time wears on, and the mists are blowing away, or would if you strange folk did not wreathe yourselves in smoke. What of the tale?"

"Well, my tale begins with waking up in the dark and finding myself in an orc-camp," said Pippin.

They did some calculations with their fingers and figured it was nine days since the breaking of our fellowship. Nine days since he abandoned this world forever. Nine days. Has it really been so short a time? The many events that have occurred during that time have managed to distract me but could not obliterate the pain of losing him. As they begin the account of Boromir's last battle I unconsciously hold my breath.

"We ran, leading the orcs away from Frodo so he could escape. It was working well until we got to a stone bridge, then we saw more of them coming from in front of us. I was more frightened than I've ever been in my life. I thought for sure our time had come when I saw an orc with an enormous axe towering above our heads ready to come crashing down on us, but Boromir appeared and killed it with its own axe. We backed up to the side while he fought them. They were so many we thought they were going to overcome him, but he drove them back. He blew his horn and we thought for sure someone would come but nobody did."

My heart clenches as I remember the grave call of the horn and my futile attempt to rush to Boromir's aid.

"Then an arrow shot into his shoulder and he dropped to his knees."

My breath catches and I close my eyes. I raise my hand to my own shoulder and clutch the cloth. I can almost feel the pain from the wound he obtained.

"Then another got him in the stomach."

I unconsciously clasp my stomach.

"When the orc shot a third arrow into his chest he couldn't hold out any longer. Frightened, we looked into his eyes and saw that he was defeated. He didn't get up again."

I can imagine him on his knees, gasping for breath, trying not to give in. Oh, Boromir, how you must have suffered. I suffer along with you, I can feel your pain as surely as if the bolts had pierced my own flesh. My chest heaves and I can feel the tears waiting to fall behind my closed eyelids. I feel a firm hand on my arm and I slowly lift my watery eyes to the concerned face I know I will find.

"Are you alright?" Aragorn asks me.

The question is a polite one for he can see clearly my emotional state.

"No," I clear my throat and give a brief glance to the rest of the group, "I am afraid you will have to excuse me, I am going to take a walk."

As I stand up Gimli gives me a kind smile and says, "Take all the time you need."

I try to smile back and I thank him, then I turn around and walk off in no particular direction. I step lightly over the cracked stone and murky puddles, hardly giving them a moments notice. My thoughts are far away from this place with its broken pillars and flooded roads, instead they are in a dense forest were a Gondorian warrior drew his last breath in my arms. Why did things have to happen this way? If only I had not let my guard down, if I had not let you out of my sight. If only I had correctly surmised what threatened us, what threatened you in time I might have prevented this.

I hear cautious steps behind me; Aragorn came to check on me , no doubt. He has been hovering over me these past days, not confining, he has merely been acting as a good friend. His worry for me is not without motive, for I am not sure of myself.

"Legolas," his inquires and he begins to walk at my side, "I know this may sound like a stupid question but how are you, really? How are you dealing with this?"

I take a deep breath before I answer. "How do you expect me to be? I am broken, Aragorn. My soul, my heart, they don't want to continue. Boromir was not the only one who died nine days ago. He took me with him, he took my will to live. I have fulfilled my obligation to him, I have seen the hobbits safe and am assured that they will continue to be for the time being. Now all I want to do is rest. But rest I cannot, not here or any place in Middle Earth."

"I don't to hear you talk that way." He stops me with a hand on my shoulder and gently turns me to face him. "I care about you, Legolas, and I won't have you giving up on yourself this easily."

"But how can I continue here, Aragorn, how can I live without him? I miss him so much."

My voice breaks and a small sob escapes my throat. I shakily wipe the tears that flow down my face. Warm arms encircle me and Aragorn pulls me against his chest. I tense a bit at first, but soon I return the comforting hug, my hands clutching at his clothes.

"It's alright, you can cry if you want to. It might do you good."

I obey him without thinking about it. I let go completely, I no longer seek to keep up an appearance of well-being. Sobs wrack my frame, tears fall heedlessly on Aragorn's shoulder. I allow all my hurt, all my pain, and my hopelessness to be expressed in those tears. I cry harder and with more anguish than I have ever cried in my life; I feel my heart is about to burst. After a long while the tears subside, yet I still refuse to let go of Aragorn. Throughout all this he has held me silently, rubbing my back soothingly. Finally I lift my head from its recumbent position and draw my arms back.

"Do you feel batter?" he asks.

"A little." In truth I do feel somewhat more relieved, though the hurt is still palpable. "Thank you. You have been a good friend to me."

He smiles warmly at me. "I will always going to be here if you need me. Just do me a favor, don't concede to despair and don't be leaving this world yet. We need you here."

I give him a small smile and I answer honestly. "I will try to, though I do not yet know how."

Legolas Greenleaf long under tree
In joy thou hast lived. Beware of the Sea!
If thou hearest the cry of the gull on the shore,
Thy heart shall then rest in the forest no more.


Galadriel's words to Legolas

Minas Tirith, main city of Gondor. The city that Boromir swore to protect with his life. Alas he is not able to behold it again. We were to come here together, after the ring was destroyed. He spoke so fondly of his White City. Now the city has been ravaged, the mighty walls that protect it burned, the confidence of its people brought low by the tenacity of the Enemy. We arrived at the precise moment to prevent the enemy from causing any more destruction, yet the fight is far from over. The shock and bewilderment that the Enemy has suffered at the knowledge that Aragorn, the heir of Isildur, has finally returned to assume the throne of Gondor, has weakened his assurance for now, but it will not last long.

Yet at this time we must bid thanks for being able to succeed thus far and rest so that we may be able to fight as strongly as we can against the fierce onslaught that surely awaits us. Gimli and I are presently at the garden of the Houses of Healing with Pippin who, Aragorn tells me, swore loyalty to the late Steward and wears the colors of the guard and Merry. Poor Merry almost died in the defense of the King of the Mark, and against no meaner foe than the Captain of the Nazgul. Yet here he sits with us, not full well, but recuperating better than could have been expected of a man. These hobbits do not cease impressing me, they are so different from the carefree beings that I met at Rivendell. We have all suffered so much these past days. I knew that the road that lay ahead would be arduous and unsure, but I never expected what has occurred.

I sit quietly, not paying much heed to the avid their conversation, for my thoughts are elsewhere. I gaze out at the war-torn landscape and what is left of the might of Gondor. Though I was not able to see it in its splendor I experienced it through Boromir's eyes. With his fond words he painted vivid depictions of the wonders of his beautiful city; the White Tower of Ecthelion, the banners fluttering with the breeze, silver trumpets welcoming weary wanderers back home. He spoke of the long years spent fighting the forces of Mordor, the end of their toil nowhere in sight, and his hopes of seeing Gondor restored to its former glory. It would have broken his heart to see what has become of it. Although we have won the latest battle, it does not appear to be so. Other's which we have yet to face, and will surely not be long delayed, we expect to be worse still.

As I look across the Anduin I see a group of white birds flying up the river.

"Look!" I cry. "Gulls! They are flying far inland. A wonder they are to me and a trouble to my heart. Never in all my life had I met them, until we came to Pelargir, and there I heard them crying in the air as we rode to the battle of the ships. Then I stood still, forgetting war in Middle-earth; for their wailing cries spoke to me of the Sea. The Sea! Alas! I have not yet beheld it. But deep in the hearts of all my kindred lies the sea-longing, which it is perilous to stir. Alas! for the gulls. No peace shall I have again under beech or under elm."

The others hasten to assure me that I must not go to the Havens too soon, that folk here still have need of me. I say nothing, but I know in my heart that I cannot deny the call of the gulls. Their lilting cry haunts my thoughts, they speak to me not only of the sea, something else, some ephemeral message is hidden in their beseeching song, yet I cannot grasp their meaning. Shaking my head, I sigh softly and I turn my attention to the words that are being spoken.

---

The One Ring was destroyed at the exact moment when we most needed it. The once powerful forces of Mordor have fled and scattered and Gondor is finally free from fear. Frodo and Sam are with us again and we have spent many an hour telling them of our adventures and in turn they tell us of their own. We all still remain here in Minas Tirith for Aragorn does not wish us leave yet, he wants to maintain the fellowship united for a while. But one of us, the one dearest to my heart, is not here. His name is not spoken but there is no need, he is still ever present in my mind.

I sit on the walls and look out towards the south and the sea. The sea. My desire to sail upon it far from Middle Earth grows with each passing day, with each undulating cry I hear from the gulls. I see them fly off, their great white wings beating in the air, headed towards their home in the sea. I long to follow them, I think only there will I be able to find the peace that I seek and the part of me that is bereft. Yet I cannot do so yet, I do not want to abandon my friends. When I return to my home in Mirkwood, I will ask my father for leave to bring some of our people to settle in the fair land of Ithilien. Gimli shall also bring folk from his home to rebuild the city and restore its splendor. I will remain with Aragorn for as long as his reign, and his life, lasts, which to me will be but a while, although his lifetime is longer than that of other men. Alas for the Gift of Men. The Doom of Men sounds more appropriate to me.

A gull calls in the distance, seeming to agree with me.

It is ended. King Elessar, Aragorn to those close to him, has died after 160 years in the throne. Now only two members of the fellowship remain in Middle Earth, Gimli and myself, but not for long. I have asked him to accompany me on my journey over the sea, for I shall obey my heart's desire at last. These past years we have grown to be good friends, odd as it may seem, but we set aside our differences and reached an understanding long ago. At first he was hesitant when I broached the subject, as I expected him to be.

"You want me to sail with you and leave Middle Earth?" he said. "But I am a dwarf, we do not share the elves' desire to go West. I don't wish to depart from this land. I belong here, not on a ship."

"This I know and understand but I ask you to at least consider my proposal. I do not ask lightly. I will leave and go West whichever your answer may be, but I would very much like to have my dearest friend with me to share the journey."

He grew quiet and looked away, his face deep in thought as he considered what I said.

"Even if I did go with you to the Havens," he said after some length, "how would I be allowed to stay? I thought no other people besides the elves lived there."

This is a genuine concern I had of thought of earlier, but I will not allow my determination to be swayed by this doubt.

"If you are refused entrance then I will not remain either," I say with firm conviction. "But my heart tells me that will not be the case. If my wish alone does not grant you abode perhaps the Lady Galadriel can, by her grace, sway the minds of those that may object. Yes, I am sure the Lady will not deny you."

His eyes brightened at the prospect of seeing her again. "The Lady Galadriel, the fairest lady to ever grace this land. To see her again would be worth the long voyage. If anyone else had asked this of me I would have said no. But since it is you I will go. We have traveled side by side and been best friends for many years now. It only seems right that we should make this last journey together."

I smiled widely and felt glad.

"Thank you, old friend. That is all I wanted."

---

We sailed a few hours ago in the early morning. I stand at the rail of the ship and look out at the waters that surround us, watching mesmerized the currents that form as the ship breaks through the water. The breeze caresses my skin and lifts my hair, making it fly around my face. I close my eyes and focus my senses on the sensations I feel; the gentle sway of the boat underneath my feet, the warmth of the sun on my skin, the sweet and salty scent of the seawater, the smooth and strong feel of the finely crafted wood under my fingers, the beating of the water against the hull, and the sound of the gulls that fly overhead. Their cry no longer troubles me, now it is soothing, relaxing. For the first time in so long, I am calm.

The morning we set out from Minas Tirith, as I roused from my bed, instead of the veiled yet lingering sorrow I felt each day after his death I felt serenity wash over me and claim me in its healing embrace.

The room I lived in during my stay in the city once belonged to Boromir. I did not ask for it nor did I even think of it until Aragorn took me to it the first night after Gimli and I returned from our travels. He did not tell me it was his and yet I knew, perhaps it was something about the look of the room or the objects in it, or the barely perceptible scent of him that still hung in the air, but that might have solely been a whisper from my memory. Aragorn said that all was exactly as Boromir left it, to the best of his knowledge and that I could remain there if I wished.

I walked further inside and my eyes sought out every piece of furniture from the finely crafted desk to the ornate chair and the large bed, which once held his slumbering body. I moved towards it and stood by its side. I placed my hand on the neatly made sheets and slowly roamed my hand over the smooth surface. I closed my eyes and, concentrating, I could almost feel that I touched not the cloth but Boromir's bare skin, the most precious surface I ever had the privilege to feel. The beloved name escaped my lips in a reverent whisper.

"Legolas," Aragorn's voice intruded into my thoughts. I had forgotten he was in the room, my recollections were so vivid. Quickly, I composed myself and met his worried gaze.

"Legolas, if this is too much for you..."

"No!" I swiftly interjected. "No, I want to stay here. I need to. Thank you for bringing me."

"Alright."

He smiled understandingly then turned to leave.

After the door closed, I sat on the bed and removed my boots, then my clothes so that there was nothing between my skin and the night air. I pulled back the covers and slipped into the warm comfort they offered. Laying my head on the pillow, I closed my eyes and drank in the subtle fragrance that lingered on the fine fabric. I rested that night and every night afterwards, not on a cold and desolate surface, but enveloped in the arms of the one soul in Arda I would have bound to mine. It may have been only a shadow, a remnant, a pale substitute for the one I lost but it was enough to bring me through the long years I spent living with his absence.

The morning in which I rose from that bed for the last time I walked to the window, which overlooked southern landscape, as I had done numerous times before. I spent more hours than I can say during those years gazing out from it at the rooftops and parapets of the reconstructed city, the fresh waters of the Anduin flowing through the verdant land, and the gulls flying across the vast expanse of the sky, all the while with a deep sense of longing resounding through my soul. However, this day instead of a mournful sigh emerging from my mouth a content smile curved my lips, similar to the one that adorns my face at this moment. Perhaps it is the sea-longing in my blood that clouds the partial sadness I feel at the thought that I shall not behold the vibrant reds and oranges that leaves acquire on the autumn or listen to the cheerful song of one of the birds native to my land upon waking again. I visited Mirkwood once more before leaving and said my final goodbyes to my family and the woods that saw the beginnings of my life but will not see the end. I shall carry these last bittersweet memories of Middle Earth close to my heart. I do not dwell on them now, I would rather turn my mind back to happier ones, ones in which loving grey eyes reflected my own, passionate kisses caressed my lips, and a caring touch blessed my skin. It is strange that it should be here on a ship that every minute moves further away from the place where he fell and departed my arms that I can finally set aside my grief. Yet do the people of Gondor not say that the Anduin carried his body to the sea? Perhaps it was so, for I have found what I was seeking and rest eludes me no more. I have found my heart upon the song of a sea gull and I do not intend to lose it again.