Aaargh! Excuse the very short chapter. I'm now typing this seconds before I put it up. Shock horror! Hope you're still enjoying it. I'll try to write more each day and put two chapters up each night; but sometimes it'll be more and sometimes less.
Please R&R
Thanks Satiana and Imaginator for the reviews! In reply to Satiana's comment, I'm getting Legolas back as fast as I can. I'm frantically re-reading L.O.T.R again and again to find a place where they can both be at the same time and meet again. I think I have one, and its not too far away, so bear with me! You'll get a lot of Legolas before the end, don't worry.
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Faramir dressed her wound with the utmost tenderness. It was late afternoon when the job was done; and immediately afterwards they ate. The fare was considerably better than the stale bread Mithmír had eaten earlier that day; and the wine was not even remotely comparable to the disgusting water. While the food settled they found her sword and armour, as well as the daggers and bow. All had been put away carefully, to Mithmír's surprise - but probably only because of their value, she knew, not because of any respect for her. Faramir also gave her many arrows. They weren't of the same level of craft as those that were used by elves; but as Mithmír reminded herself, she was in no position to be picky. She thanked Faramir profusely, and settled down to clean and sharpen her weapons.
It was near nightfall - but of course, there was little difference now between day and night - when the horns of war blew frantically from the centre of Osgiliath, beside the ford. Mithmír had lain resting, but she got up instantly. Seconds later, Faramir ran into her tent. He helped her put her armour on, and she tied the straps of his with nimble fingers made clumsy only a little by expectation. Mithmír armed herself with Celebdîn in its sheath, her daggers at her girdle, and the quiver and bow strapped to her back. Brialvastor had been saddled by some man of Faramir's, and was waiting outside the tent. Despite her armour Mithmír mounted nimbly. Faramir took a little longer, but in seconds they were ready. He looked at her steadily, but fire burned in his eyes.
'We can't stay mounted for the fight over these rocks,' he said in warning. 'The horses can't keep their footing during battle like they can when going with care.'
She smiled a little, despite the situation. 'I could stay on Brialvastor for the fight,' she reminded gently. 'He is not of normal stock, and the situation should not ask too much of him. But…' she paused, and hearkened to the sounds of the rising battle for a second. 'I should not want to risk him. I ride only to the edge of the fray, and then, Faramir, we go together on foot.'
He nodded. 'Then let us fly with all speed to the battle, lady elf! Good luck to you!'
'Cuio mae!' She cried, and motioned Brialvastor forward. It might have meant good luck, or then gain it may have meant live well - in case Mithmír did not return from the fight.
They reached the ford and dismounted quickly, sending the horses away, and then jogged over to the men of Gondor, who were standing firm till Faramir's orders came. They greeted the pair with cheers and much joy; but there was apprehension and maybe even fear in their eyes.
'How many in the host on the other side?' Asked Faramir in a half-shout, trying - and succeeding - to make his voice heard above the clatter of the archers about him preparing for their first shots.
'I can see few less than a thousand,' replied Mithmír with equal volume. 'There will be more, hidden further in the ruins.'
'Any Black Riders?' Asked Faramir. The fear in his voice was under control. Mithmír envied him for it.
'There shall be, I am sure of it,' she replied in as even a voice as she could. 'They shall fall upon our ranks when we least expect it.'
He nodded grimly. 'There's no time to waste, then. We cannot let these foes cross the river.'
Mithmír turned and looked at the assembled ranks of Faramir's men, waiting with baited breath for his word. She turned with sad eyes to her friend. 'Ennas alfar adanath sí an dar glamhoth athrad celon.' There are not enough men to stop the horde crossing the river.
Faramir's gaze was steady. 'Im thelan car,' he replied softly. I intend to do it. 'Carle estel nin?' Do you trust me?
'Im estel le,' she whispered back. 'Im innas gwannan le, ae nabaur.' I trust you. I shall die for you, if need be.
He embraced her strongly, in case it should be the last time. 'Naband, nín meleth, nín gwathel.' Be safe, my love, my sister.
'Im cuinar innas,' she replied softly, kissing his cheek with love unabashed. 'Im alinnas gwanna a awarthale.' I shall live. I will not die and leave you alone.
'Gelir faras!' He said finally, before turning and shouting to his men, preparing them for battle.
Mithmír smiled inwardly. Happy hunting indeed!
