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***
Mithmír had been expecting to be asked to turn back with the few fighters of Rohan who returned to their homes to guard them. She had set her jaw determinedly as Aragorn gave the choice to the men; and waited to be approached. To her intense surprise and everlasting joy and gratitude, Aragorn merely looked at her questioningly and, when she shook her head firmly, left it at that.
Mithmír could not know his thoughts then, which was lucky: Aragorn's pity was almost boundless. The girl could not be told, by her father's orders, but the brave Dúnedain lay dying in Minas Tirith. The wound from the sword, though clean, had quickly become infected and no work of the healers could save him. Aragorn had offered, but the stout man had refused firmly and bade him to save his powers for more important causes. Aragorn grieved to think how hurt the girl he loved like a daughter would be to find that her father had sent her away so that she was not forced to be present at his passing…
'You will not tell her, will you?' The dying man's eyes were solemn and pleading. Aragorn noticed that they were even darker than his only child's.
'Nay, friend. I swore I should not and by that promise I stand, until the end and after.' He was almost choking on the tears. Mithmír's father, Dîntir, was one of his closest friends.
The white face smiled a little, but the look was weary of the world. 'You shall have to deal with my daughter's anger…' He warned.
'I shall manage,' Aragorn laughed in reply, but the sound was hollow with grief.
'Tell her I love her,' Dîntir begged in a forced whisper, desperation in his gaze that though once so strong was getting ever weaker.
'She knows it already, but I shall.'
'Tell her I did this for her own good…'
'It is as good as done.' He felt a great void open up in himself. He swallowed repeatedly, and hugged his friend tightly.
The man's voice was nearly only a breath now. 'And tell my Melkalwen my love for her is deathless… And,' a great pain came into his voice, 'say that if she wishes she may pass beyond the sea with the Elves.'
'That is a noble thing you offer her, Dîntir,' praised Aragorn softly. He wondered inwardly if he would do the same for Arwen: allow her to go with the last of her people and deny himself the chance of meeting her outside the spheres of the world.
'My beautiful Elf deserves nothing less…' Dîntir replied, and then in the way of the ill was suddenly asleep, a shadow gone from his face.
'Rest easy, bravest of the brave,' said Aragorn in little more than a murmur and then was gone out of the room quickly, bending his head to hide his eyes that glinted with tears. He would not meet his friend again.
Oblivious to her father's fate, Mithmír stood before the Morannon. She had come back to the place she left so long ago - or so it seemed - and she hated it even more. She could see the very spot where the hobbits had stood with Gollum while they debated whether to enter by that way or not. If she half-closed her eyes she could almost see them there, little figures barely as tall as children, wrapped close about in cloaks of Lothlorien grey. She shivered, and wondered where they could be.
She became aware of the conversation about her when it reached near-shouting level. She was interested to see the two combatants were Legolas and Aragorn; and they appeared to be mentioning her name in a lot more than casual conversation. She passed Gimli - who was sitting on the scorched ground and regaining his breath - with the silence of a feline; and went forward till she was but a few paces from the Man and Elf. In their apparent anger they didn't see her. The cause of the "discussion" became apparent soon enough.
'She cannot come to the Gates with us as a fellow herald,' Aragorn said with gritted teeth as if the phrase had been repeated many times. 'She is not one of the Fellowship.'
'Neither are Imrahil, Elladan and Elrohir,' Legolas replied; his musical voice tinged with annoyance.
'I promised her father I should protect her.'
'She deserves to see! She went with Frodo and Sam equally as far as any of us!' Legolas' blue eyes flamed with icy tongues of fire.
'She cannot be risked.'
'Would you deny her it on the grounds of her sex?' The Elf asked incredulously. Elves are not as sexist as Men, though granted most of their womenfolk have little taste for fighting.
Aragorn ignored it, but his body language became more arrogant. 'I knew you liked her,' he said with a mischievous glint entering his eye. 'You may have denied it but I say you still look at her…' He smiled a little. 'Am I right? You're very silent all of a sudden.'
Legolas blushed almost imperceptably. 'What business is it of yours?'
'Nothing, nothing,' said Aragorn carefully and took a step forward. 'Just that I'm… interested,' he drawled. Mithmír scowled at him evilly. She felt her heart beat quicken in her chest as Legolas opened his mouth to reply. She was surprised to find herself hoping that Aragorn's accusations were true…
Legolas raised his head high and defiant and took a bold breath. He had never felt so nervous… Admitting to Aragorn, a close friend, should not be so hard. He finally spoke:
'All I want,' he said somewhat slowly, 'is for -'
It was at that second that Aragorn spotted Mithmír. 'Mithmír Rochiwen!' He cried heartily, and reached out to grab her hand and so stop her running away. Legolas' shade of red deepened considerably. 'Legolas here says you should come with us as a Herald of the West… What say you?'
'I should be honoured,' Mithmír managed, though her throat was dry. Legolas' eyes looked anywhere but her. Inexplicably this saddened her.
'It is settled then, Legolas,' said Aragorn, clapping Mithmír on the back and at the same time nodding at the Elf in a way which annoyed him deeply. 'I have to go tell Gimli… why don't you two keep each other company? Doubtless the Elf and half-elf have some things in common to speak of.'
Mithmír was about to reply that no, thank you, she'd find Gimli; when Legolas' pure voice rang out.
'As you say, Aragorn King. I indeed have questions to ask this lady…' And his gentle, expressive eyes finally met hers. He felt like his heart was in his throat, and it was beating like a drum. He willed himself to be brave. Aragorn bowed and walked away; smiling a little in a self-satisfied way.
'Would you care to take a walk with me, Lady?' Asked Legolas politely.
'Of course,' replied Mithmír somewhat shakily, and so together they set of on a brisk trip around the camp.
***
TO BE CONTINUED
Sorry to cut it off there. Don't worry the next chapter will be good. Revelations are coming, and things will be admitted… Apologies will be made (though you'll have to read the chapter to find out if they're accepted!)
Thanks for reading and please review!
