It was winter in the forests of the Undying Lands. Everything was silent except for the snow falling, no birds, no insects, nothing. Legolas watched from his window with a note of bitterness inside his gut. He hated these months of ice and lifelessness with a passion of loathing beyond what you and I have ever felt before, (Elves are very emotional in that sense) because there was nothing to do or see except watch the whiteness fall. He turned away with antipathy and stared listlessly around his room. His hair was still wet from his bath and it dripped down his neck and into his loose, green shirt. Legolas shivered, and figured that you couldn’t necessarily hate a season anyway, but when he looked back at the window and saw the utter bleakness and isolation the loathing repositioned itself in his mind. A strong wind battered against the pains. A few piles of snow moved across the ground like living things. He closed his eyes, remembering the message the The White had delivered from Galadriel:

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.

That was correct, if there was a reason Legolas wasn’t at the ocean at this very moment, it was because of the winter storm. He sighed, and lay down yawning, pulling the thick blanket over him, relaxing his body until there was only a glimmer of wakefulness left, and that glimmer fading, and fading until he faded to. Legolas Greenleaf slept.

Elves do not dream. They do not sleep, and when they do, it is a dreamless one with their eyes open. Legolas’s eyes were shut. He dreamed of a velvet sky and white sheets, of water and fire, warming and burning, of cool and freezing. He dreamed of people whose lives were rich with money, and those who were poor, of forests, and seas, deserts and mountains. He lived a thousand lives and he lived only a moment. He was a star and a sun, a speck of dust, and a planet, and learned that they are the same. He felt trees and rocks, given birth to, live and die, he was all things in one, and knew that even a planet is living a life. He saw colors dance in front of his eyes and a sky full of stars. He felt sleep drag him down once again, as a climax of pleasure ripped though his form as then was still.

He opened his eyes. The sun had gone down and it was night once again. Snow was falling outside, stars twinkled and shone brightly in the ink black sky, and there was absolute silence, both in and outside the palace. Legolas was at peace.

In the morning, a servant came to his room and knocked. There was no answer, and the servant became worried and opened the door with a spare key. Legolas was laying on bed with his eyes closed as if in sleep, his right hand curled around a pen and a letter. His chest didn’t move, his lips were parted but gave no air, and he was still. The servant pick up the paper and it read the following:

To the person who reads this, I have become enlightened by a dream. I know my death is near, and since I do not have young kin to speak of, make Tauriel queen. The dream was filled of things that you will not understand, I fear for a long time, so long that only the youngest of you will live to see it. I have but one request; bury my body by the sea. Legolas Greenleaf

And so ended the life of an elf and they buried him by the sea, and made a small temple, as elves always do with royalty. Some say he haunts the beaches there.