Sorry if this chapter isn't very long, I had a very busy night tonight!  Please R&R

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And so they returned to Gondor, and Aragorn was crowned King of that fair country, and in looks he suddenly became even as the monarchs of old, proud and noble in his bearing.  For many days Mithmír was separated from him for he was very busy putting the city in order.  She missed greatly being denied the chance of congratulating him, but tried to put it from her mind.  It was partly because of that,  that on the first morning after their arrival, she made her way to the Houses of Healing.  Legolas had been acting her shadow since they left Ithilien, for reasons she could not discern.  She had finally shaken him off, however, leaving him to talk to Aragorn – as a member of the Fellowship, he was allowed to meet with the King, much to her disgust.

Mithmír entered the hall that lead to the Houses.  The air was cooler in there, and she breathed deeply.  The corridor was empty; and her soft steps made no noise on the stone flags.  She paced silently down the way, and opened the wooden door at the end sharply, stepping in nimbly and closing it behind her.

She was instantly besieged by a rather round, portly woman wearing a healer's apron around her waist.  The woman prodded her sharply with her toe, seeing as her arms were full of baskets.

She looked at Mithmír oddly.  'Would you be so kind as to help an old woman carry these stores of healing-weeds – athelas, or so the King calls it, though it's Kingsfoil to you and I.  We've collected so much of it since we learnt its properties!'  She dumped well over half the baskets in Mithmír's arms.  A potent woodland scent reached her nostrils, and she thought of Legolas with a faint smile.

'Follow me to the store-rooms,' ordered the woman haughtily, completely oblivious – or uncaring – of the fact that she addressed a well-renowned warrior so brashly as an inferior girl.  Mithmír did so, perplexed, and when she arrived laid the baskets down carefully where the healer asked.

'Where is my father?'  She asked politely afterwards, trying not to lose her temper and gritting her teeth.  The woman – Rekara, as she introduced herself – ignored the question and continued to sort out the baskets with vigor.

Mithmír repeated the question, an edge entering her voice.  She did so until Rekara turned around, a frown creasing her sun-tanned features.  There was also an odd feeling in her eyes that made Mithmír's stomach clench unnaturally: pity.  Mithmír resented pity at the best of times, and it induced anger in her, but rarely fear as it did now.  'Where is he?'  She asked, and to her shame her voice wavered.

Rekara moved forward somewhat jerkily, as if unsure of herself, and embraced Mithmír closely and maternally.  She pulled away slowly after she realized Mithmír was as cold and immovable, as lacking in life and emotion, as a statue.

'I…' she said hoarsely, 'I thought you knew…  I was told that you knew, that you were told…'

Mithmír felt something inside her break.  It was as if her heart had been driven through with some cruel blade, worse than any Morgul knife.  To Rekara, it appeared that her eyes suddenly misted over, their deep brown shade becoming more grey, more dead, as if life and the ability to love fled from therein.  Her mothering instincts were now fully awakened, and she tried to hug the girl again, but Mithmír pulled away.  She turned slowly on one foot, her mind and soul in turmoil, her entire world turned up-side down, but she looked as calm and collected as ever.  She began to walk away slowly; showing no emotion, until when, seconds before she left, she could hide her feelings no more.

With an almost animal cry of rage and pain she lashed out at the stacks of supplies to her right, sending valuable piles of healing-weed, salve and bandages flying.  A basket landed at Rekara's feet, and instinctively the old woman knelt down to pick it up, her mouth in a wide "O".  When she looked up, the lady-knight was gone.

Mithmír was blinded by sorrow and anger greater than she had ever know.  No tears showed in her eyes which were now dull and shadowed.  She ran through the Houses the way she had come, roughly pushing away any healer who tried to stop or slow her.  She didn't hear their shouts, only the painfully-slow beating of her heart, which pounded in her ears with all the force of a drum…

She ran out of the Houses of Healing at full-pelt, and dashed through the city with incredible speed but little or no grace.  Her breath was harsh and ragged by the time she reached the Citadel.  The guards got up to stop her entering, but she mindlessly and viciously kicked one in the groin and nimbly dodged the other's grasp.

She did not have to search long to find the object of her chase.  Legolas was standing in the far right corner, looking out the window towards the Sea with a deep wistfulness in his eyes.  She ignored it.  'Legolas Greenleaf!'  She cried out in a cracking voice.  He looked up instantly, his eyes wide with surprise.

'She may enter these halls, Guards!'  He ordered with great force.  The two pursuing men stopped their chase instantly, looking puzzled.  Legolas, however, had no confusion over the nature of Mithmír's anger.  He could see the great depth of pain in her eyes, and could almost feel the agonized beating of her heart, the wordless scream of her soul.  He opened his arms to welcome her into his embrace, to tell her why they had kept it from her, to make it all right: he hated to see her like this so much, the guilt was making him feel so bad for her…

Mithmír hit him like a charging Oliphaunt, barreling furiously into his chest.  With a cry of surprise he fell over backwards, and she landed on top of him heavily.  He looked fearfully into her eyes, and the thing that stared back at him was wild with rage.  He could barely recognize his Mithmír, his loved one…

Mithmír felt like a fire was burning in her, roasting her slowly…  She felt a great, almost physical pain all over her, her chest was tight and made breathing hard.  But she didn't, wouldn't cry.  She began to punch Legolas' chest, shoulders and stomach, but it was like her fist were moving through water, and they hit him with little force.  Legolas, his instincts of self-defense coming to the fore, rolled over with all his strength, pushing her over so she was beneath him and he locked her hands down over her chest.  She looked up at him angrily for a while, but suddenly her gaze softened, blurred by tears.  She began to cry softly, beautifully, as Elves cry.

'Why didn't you tell me…'  She said in a choking voice as she wept, her voice beseeching him for an explanation.  'I have lost him forever, Legolas.  You cannot understand…' her body heaved under his in a violent shudder.  'We can never meet again, Legolas, don't you see?  Never.  There are no timeless halls in Valinor for mortal Men.  If you had even told me even two days after the fighting, I would have been here in time, I could have said goodbye…'  Her face creased in grief inconsolable, and Legolas began to cry also, his pearl-drop tears falling onto her face below his.

'You are right, Mithmír,' he said with great sadness, 'you are right, I did not understand the parting of Men…'

'I knew that you had a secret,' she said hoarsely.  'I saw the way you looked at me…  But this?'  She beseeched him.  'I have lost the man I loved most of all, Legolas.  I have lost my ada[daddy].'  Her gaze was hollow, and the look scared him.  'He died without me.  When he needed me most, I was not there…'  She sobbed again.

'Forgive me, nín meleth [my love],' he pleaded her, leaning down and kissing away all the tears on her cheek.  'Forgive me…  Again I deserve no more than your hatred, but I beg you, let me make it up to you…'  He kissed her lips roughly, praying for forgiveness.  'Please…'

Mithmír shed a single tear more.  'I lost my father, Legolas,' she said numbly, 'and I gained you…'  She fixed her eyes on him in a look that was horrifying in its sadness.  'I do not know whether my… "choice" was right.'

Legolas felt like his world was being ripped away.  He let out a hoarse cry.  If only he could turn back time…  'I will make it up to you, Mithmír!  I can never bring your ada back, but I am sorry… so sorry… forgive me, my love, forgive me, I cannot live without you, I should have told you…'  He held her close and sobbed into the hollow between her shoulder and neck.

'And this is how you show your "love"?'  The voice was Faramir's, long unheard to either Elf, and the hatred in it was clear.  Legolas moved a little to turn his head, and Mithmír caught sight of her long-missed friend behind them.  She nearly cried out in joy.  'You show your love by hurting my sister so?'  He grabbed the Elf's shoulder and dragged him to his feet roughly.  Legolas did not resist, as he was too shocked to.  Faramir then drew Mithmír into a protective embrace, kissing her brow softly, and whispering comfortingly.  She did not move.  The emotions running through her were too strong.  She did not know if she could love Legolas anymore.  He had denied her the last days of her father's life and their time together, and her father had been the whole world to her…

Faramir glared at the Elf accusingly.  'Get away from her,' he said quietly but harshly.  'Go.'

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Sorry about the random ending.  Any suggestions appreciated.  Please review!

-- Annaicuru