Lord Elrond, Elladan and Aragorn stand stock-still beneath the yellowing evening sun, long hair blowing wildly behind them. The golden glow trickles below the molten red horizon and crickets begin their orchestrated music. The wind continues to icily whoosh past their formal garments, letting the cloth flap against their bodies. 

The atmosphere is almost too loud, yet simultaneously too quiet...and lonely. There is a numb pounding against the base of Aragorn's skull and he can no longer see so far, as the sun drowns beneath the darkening sky. There is still no sign of Legolas.

Grief is fresh and thick in the cool air; pain lacing every thought, feeling and sound. The Sun is gone now, leaving behind a light orange glow in the sky. The cold and darkness only heighten the inner turmoil and anxiety Aragorn, Lord Elrond and Elladan are experiencing and vainly trying to fight. Each and every thought of the war back in Lasgalen is a constant reminder of who they lost and what they lost; having defeated the enemy, but at an unimaginably painful cost.

The palace lay in ruins, bodies and blood splattering the wooden flooring and the stench of Orc ever present in the dank, dead air. The four of them yearned to flee the scene, although they could not, not until they had given every innocent life the courtesy of a grave, honoring their bravery and brilliance, despite the unfortunate unfolding of events. Everyone had battled hard and was fierce in their defence. That would never be forgotten. 

"Come here," Lord Elrond whispers into the wind. The man and elf comply, coming to stand before their father. They watch him with hollow eyes that tell nothing of the anguish stirring in their hearts. 

"Ada?" Aragorn questions the elf Lord. Elladan stands but a few inches away, head bowed, awaiting an order or anything to take his mind off of what they are about to do. He has his lip clamped firmly between pearly, white teeth.

"Come," the Lord of Imladris says once more, turning on his heels so abruptly that Aragorn and Elladan stand completely bewildered for a few seconds longer than they should before following their father. "Come Legolas," Elrond almost pleads, voice uncharacteristically wavering. Said elf takes a step forward, unwilling to meet eyes with any of them. And even though he has scrubbed and scratched away all the blood and grime from his body, its ghostly feel lingers on the tips of his fingers and the images flash against his closed eyelids.

"We will start with the---the elves." The crack Lord Elrond's voice startled the others very little, for the circumstances were indeed horrid. "We cannot take them all back to Imladris."

"I am sorry."

At his apology Aragorn, Elladan and Legolas all look up, all three meeting the Lord's misty gaze.

"Ada---"

"Listen. Listen to me, all of you," Lord Elrond says steadily. The winds calm down, and his voice rings clearer, "We have seen much over these past weeks. Too much." Legolas watches him for any sign of falsity. Elladan briefly scans their surroundings, ears perking up as his father continues to speak in the same serious tone. "But we cannot fail the free people of Middle Earth. These events... as horrid as they may seem, were inevitable -"

"No," Legolas intervenes. "No they were not, my Lord."

"I won't leave him behind." Legolas' eyes shone with tears. "I'll carry him if I must."

"Very well," Lord Elrond said, jaw tensed and eyebrows knitted. "Estel go bring the carrier."

All eyes are on him now. A muscle in his jaw moves and he despises the evident pity in their eyes. "Daro!" He clenches his fists by his side, hissing at the three of them, "Daro. Saes!" //Stop. Please!//

"Legolas. Come here, young one," Lord Elrond beckons, a slight quiver cracking through his otherwise monotonous tone. "Come."

It is almost terrifying when the young elf's face crumbles at his guardian's obvious hesitance. They all fear for him - Lord Elrond, Elladan, Aragorn - and he hates that. And now... he's taking slow strides towards Lord Elrond until he is standing right in front of the taller elf Lord, and then he's clinging onto the elf who has been so kind to him all his life, and his shoulders begin to tremble, and he is lets out tremendous sobs as the elf Lord pulls him in closer, his lips pressing against his golden head.

Aragorn joins the embrace from behind Legolas, and he feels his heart pound against his ribs and chest. Elladan wraps an arm around his last brother's waist, weeping into the crook of the man's neck from behind.

They had separated to pile body upon body, dig grave upon grave, and read prayer after prayer for all those who died. It took them weeks to complete all their work. They burned the Orc carcasses and left the ashes to sweep away under the wind's will. They worked and worked, muscles aching with all the carrying and digging. But the never once stopped. 

It was done now. And they could return to Imladris with solemn hearts and tearful faces, seeking comfort and warmth and hope.

The future that is meant to be doesn't change, as they mend their broken hearts and souls and set to rid Middle Earth of all evil.

Finish.