Decisions are coming up for Mithmír in this chapter, a big decision in particular…
Please R&R
By the way, thanks to all my reviewers especially my most recent, Satiana - I'm so flattered by the stuff you said! Thanks!
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'The Lady shall come?' Asked Faramir, his smile widening. 'Oh that's good news in deed! I worried greatly for her.'
'As did we, Lord Faramir,' Frodo said politely. He couldn't help noticing the man's abundant joy, and he wondered at it. All through their long journey together, he had never seen Mithmír as more than a protector, and an (at times) unseen guardian. To think of her as a woman, subject to the same passions and attentions as any other, confused him.
'I have my men working on providing you with clothes for the feast, hobbit lords,' he said graciously, getting up and patting them each on the shoulder enthusiastically. 'We have little small enough; but our spares are being re-worked and shortened.'
'And for that we thank you kindly, Lord!' Sam said gleefully. 'Imagine! Clean clothes at last!'
'Why yes, Sam!' Agreed Frodo with a chuckle at his friend's impromptu happiness. 'That'll be a joy beyond the words of even Elves to tell. But if you'll excuse us, Lord,' he said with a quick bow, 'you said baths were being prepared for us…?'
'Why, of course, if I hadn't forgotten!' Said Faramir in reply. 'Servers? Take these two lords to their rooms, and wait on them in accordance to their importance, which is great.'
'Well, mister Frodo!' Sam said in wonderment, 'what would Merry and Pippin say to hear us being talked of so?'
'I wonder in deed,' said Frodo quietly, and fell into silent thought on the friends they had so long been sundered from.
The feast was full under way, and yet still the Daughter of Elves and Men had not arrived. Faramir had been told to start without her; though not the reason for her lateness. With a heavy heart he watched the joyful revelling about him, and at every movement near the hall's door it leapt, only to plummet again when the figure was shown as one of his own men. Where could she be?
Frodo and Sam were thinking the same thing as they tucked into the succulent rabbit-meat before them. 'I wonder what's delaying the lady, mister Frodo, sir,' Sam said after swallowing a particularly large chunk. 'Maybe she's been claimed ill again?'
'No, Sam,' said Frodo, who could guess the true cause. 'Then they would have sent out her food on platters with some serving-man; and none has gone. I think I should be right in saying that the lady, however unlikely it seems, is nervous.'
'She? Nervous?' Sam gasped. 'Of what, mister Frodo? I should never have imagined such a high and brave lady as her to be scared of anything at all.'
'She fears nothing at battle,' Frodo agreed, 'but now… She is a warrior, Sam, and has been for a very long while. She shall now be, for an entire night, viewed as the one woman – and indeed, the one she-elf – among a party of men. That is what makes her nervous.'
'Aye,' Sam said in wonderment, though he didn't really understand at all.
She stood in the corridor, her hands on her belly as if to quell the nerves that made it writhe. She stroked the unfamiliar fabric, the red velvet. The healer had found the dress in a long-unused chest, which previously – many years ago – belonged to some Lady of Minas Tirith who stayed in the Ithilien camp. It was a perfect red for her rather pale, elven skin; and its style was long but with a cut neck and a well-fitting bodice. She had fixed her own hair, with much cursing and difficulty, so it hung long and dark down her back, but with the two front pieces braided neatly and tied behind her head, keeping the locks well back out of her face. She had even crushed the berries the healer had provided to die her lips a full, deep red. She liked the resulting look, she thought, but she had a nagging feeling it wasn't her. She was a warrior, a shield-maiden, and an elf… She began to doubt that she could ever fulfil all her roles, all her lives.
She felt the healer's hand on her shoulder, and his voice by her ear in a whisper: 'Be brave, my Lady.' And pushed her forward.
The light enveloped her, surrounded her, and the sound of near a hundred voices hit her like a wave. The heat of the room, the heat of so many bodies and the large fire, made her feel slightly nauseous, but all such thoughts were forgotten in a second: for the nose stopped, as did the movement, and all eyes turned to her in wonder. She looked at the hobbits, who stared with open eyes, amazed at the transformation. She smiled weakly.
It was Faramir who spoke first. 'My Lady Mithmír!' He said out loud, moving to her side, and placing a warm arm around her waist. He then whispered close to her ear, his hot breath tickling her sensitive skin, 'you look fairer than I ever imagined you could, Lady Elf. Truly you are one of the high folk as your beauty proclaims!'
She blushed a little, and murmured her thanks. She was uncomfortable with the way this man paid attention to her, as a woman. She thought instantly and inexplicably of Legolas; but her heart was beating hard with emotion in the company of Faramir too… She was so confused….
She pulled away a little, and said with a laugh – sounding more brave than she felt – 'shall you dance with the Grey Stone? Shall you be able to lead her in a dance?'
He bowed low, a smile crossing his features. Mithmír realised he hadn't taken her moving away as a half-hearted refusal at all. 'Of course, my fair Lady!' He took her by the waist then, and drawing his body up close to hers – a little closer than the dance required – and then signalled for the music to start. It did nearly instantly, the fiddles and pipes and single drum beating out the slow, stately beat of a dance popular with the nobles of Minas Tirith, very refined and elegant.
'I cannot confess to knowing this at all!' Mithmír gasped, trying to unobtrusively pull away from her partner, despite a large part of her conscience saying, what chance do you have with the Elf? Settle for a Man of a high line and be happy.
'Then let me teach you!' Faramir laughed happily, and swung her delicately but enthusiastically into the first twirl of the dance. His rangers quickly formed a circle, clapping excitedly at this new entertainment, which was a welcome change to the normal routine of eating and listening.
Despite herself, Mithmír found herself to enjoy the dance immensely. She ended so hot and flushed with both happiness and exertion, so foot-weary the man was nearly holding her up. When she had finally caught her breath, and the cheering and clapping had died down, she delighted Faramir by saying eagerly, 'may we dance again, Lord? Something yet more lively again?'
'Of course!' He shouted, and led her in a merry folk tune. 'So am I a good enough dancer to be blessed with partnering you, Lady Elf?'
'More than enough skill is in your feet!' Laughed Mithmír above the din of the crowd. She waved at Frodo and Sam as they whirled past their spot in the crowd. 'It is my honour to be led in the dance by you, Lord!'
He looked her deep in the eyes, and she saw feelings she couldn't – or didn't want to – understand; most of all a burning passion. 'Your words please me more than you shall ever know, fairest of all maidens.'
Unnerved, she broke the eye contact. 'I am sure you shall find a fairer maiden than me for yourself, Faramir,' she said in a low voice.
'If there is,' he said, 'I want not to find her: all I desire is here in my arms.'
She blushed furiously. 'Faramir… you have my respect and admiration, and gratitude –' Faramir broke in before the but came.
'That's all I want, lady, all but one. I want your love, as surely as you have mine.'
Every word he said made her more aware of how hard the let down would be for him - if it came, if she could make her mind up. 'I cannot give my heart to you…'
'Not yet,' he said with a cheeky grin she found endearing. 'But please – give me just tonight, and I will change your mind on that.'
The voice in her mind was back: see how he cares for you? He is worthy of you, and he is within your grasp. You enjoy his touch! Do not deny yourself the pleasure he can give. Her resolve finally weakened, she smiled. 'Very well,' she said with a smile twitching the corner of her lips. 'You have one night, Lord, and one night only to take my heart.'
He called out in joy. 'And it is all I ask, fair maid!'
