Well here we are again… Yeah I'm aware that the last chapter moved v. v. fast but that's all this chapter deals with - why it happened. Thanks for the reviews!

Please R&R

***

Aragorn told her of the plight of Faramir - or rather how he had been nearly killed by his maddened father and rescued by the Future King - over dinner. His face was grave, and quelled Mithmír's already failing spirits instantly. Legolas, who was sitting beside her, also lost his slight smile.

'Will he live?' Asked Mithmír frantically, dropping her bread on the table.

'Yes,' Aragorn replied evenly. 'But I'd prefer it if you didn't visit him.'

'WHY?' She demanded, incensed. Legolas mumbled for her to calm down. Despite herself she was annoyed at him for ordering her about so. They had only been off the Pelennor fields for two or three hours; but already she was horrified at what she'd let the Elf do. She was a warrior first, lady second, and she'd let him treat her like any common girl. It was as if the time on the field had been a dream. She was starting to think she'd not been thinking straight because of blood loss. She determined to let him know that she wasn't interested, thank you very much. She cringed to think of who might have seen him carry her up to the healers…

Legolas was also feeling confused. It was as if for a while there, in the hot day, things had become unreal; he'd said things he didn't even know if he really felt like a silly elf-boy with a crush…

'He's still very ill indeed,' Aragorn explained, giving Mithmír a look which made her be quiet. It was an order, even if it wasn't put across verbally. 'Seeing you might… distress him.' He raised a hand to stop her outburst - 'and you'll be angry at him for what he did to you.'

'How do you know about that?' Asked Mithmír, mouth agape and eyes wide. 'Who told you?'

'It doesn't matter, Mithmír,' Aragorn replied, and took a determined mouthful of soup. 'But I've told the Keeper of the Houses of Healing to not let you see him on any condition until I come with you.'

Mithmír stood up angrily, her chair tipping over behind her. 'Aragorn, I love him!' She shouted, and was surprised to find tears welling up in her eyes. 'He means so much to me… You can't keep me from him like this!'

Legolas was only dimly aware of the battle of words which was being fought beside him. He was only conscious of Mithmír's words: I love him… I love him… I love him… He bent down further over his soup and began to eat it neatly. So he was wrong anyway, this lady was for Faramir. Well it made his confusing emotions much easier to deal with. He hoped she would forget his hasty words on the fields. He felt a rosy tint come to his pale skin when he thought of what he had said. It had been so stupid of him… He barely knew her and he'd let a mere physical attraction take over his senses. It wouldn't happen again, though, he promised himself.

'Aragorn, the last time you held me back like this I did it anyway!' Mithmír reminded the man. 'The same will happen again.' And she made to storm out, but Aragorn's next words, spoken calmly and simply, made her hesitate:

'Don't run to your father for help, Mithmír. He is also ill in the Houses.'

She whirled around on the spot, her eyes filled with worry. 'Why? What ailment has he?'

'Merely a bad sword cut to his left arm,' Aragorn replied almost lazily, helping himself to more bread. 'You can see him, if you want.'

Mithmír felt so much anger towards the cool, calculating Aragorn at that moment that she didn't trust herself to speak. She glared at him, glared at Legolas' back for good measure, and then stormed out.

The dining room stayed quiet for a few seconds, and then the babble of many voices slowly built up again.

Aragorn turned to Legolas. 'Why so silent, Elf?'

Legolas turned his blue eyes to him but was silent for a while. 'Why should I talk?' He said finally, slowly.

'I have seen the way you look at her,' Aragorn said softly so only the Elf could hear. 'When you told me of her your eyes were even brighter than they are now. When you brought her into the City with you that embrace was not merely one soldier helping a weary comrade.'

'I do not know of what you speak,' Legolas denied. His eyes showed no flicker of emotion. 'She is a human, and I an elf-prince. We are not at all similar.'

'Don't lie.' Aragorn could be exceedingly infuriating, Legolas decided, with his calm father-like attitude.

'Maybe I did once, Aragorn,' he said firmly, and his blue eyes sparked with contained emotions, 'but that was a silly moment brought on by loss of blood and too much heat. It was a one-off loss of control that I am very ashamed of. It shall not happen again.'

Aragorn looked at him piercingly for a while; and Legolas did not back down and avert his eyes. 'Very well,' he said finally. 'I'll take your word for it. I'm going out of the City now to sleep in my pavilion…' And he walked away, thinking hard. So that explained the awkward mood over dinner. He frowned. Was he right in thinking that maybe… possibly… Legolas had misinterpreted Mithmír's words on Faramir?