So Mithmír's talking to Aragorn… Can't wait till it's Legolas she's talking to…
This chapter is slightly uneventful, but you need to know the plot so the next chapter makes sense. I'll write more tomorrow.
Hope you enjoy and please review!
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She was led into the Meeting Chamber of Gondor by Faramir. Inside was Aragorn, and he was alone, pouring over tomes of knowledge and laws of the City. He looked up when he heard them, and a smile broke out on his face. He looked benevolent and wise. Mithmír instantly recognized her as the man she had known and trusted for all her life. She walked briskly over to him and embraced him warmly; looking up at him from the comfort of his arms.
'You should never keep secrets from me, Aragorn,' she said in mild reprimand. Don't cry, she reminded herself sternly, don't show that weakness.
'What secrets, exactly, did I keep from you, elfling?' Asked Aragorn nonchalantly, though his ruddy skin blanched.
'Don't lie either,' she said, trying to clear the odd cracking from her voice. 'I found out about… ada [daddy].' It was as if saying the word had an instant effect on her, and suddenly she was crying again, wetting the King's rich tunic with her tears.
'Oh, my lovely, my sweet-daughter,' soothed Aragorn; his loving face creasing into the sharp contours of all-too-recent grief. He held her close and tight, kissed the top of her head lovingly, and his eyes met with Faramir's over her head. 'Who told her?' He mouthed silently.
'She went to the Houses of Healing,' Faramir replied in the same manner. He was feeling a strong impulse to go and comfort Mithmír also, but he was wise enough to realize that this time belonged to her family, namely the King Aragorn.
Finally Mithmír pulled away, and rubbed her bleary, red eyes. She smiled weakly. 'You're meant to have told me first, Aragorn.'
He took both of her hands in his and clasped them firmly but not too tightly. 'I see that now,' he said softly, 'but I had to keep my word to your father and my dear friend, Dîntir of the Dúnedain.' He shrugged apologetically. 'He did it for you, Mithmír. For you. You were the starlight to him…' He smiled a little. 'You were everything. Would you want me to betray his wish to you?'
She blinked a few times. 'No. Of course not. You are forgiven, my King.' She curtsied inexpertly. Faramir and Aragorn exchanged indulgent smiles over her head.
'My thanks, Lady,' said Aragorn, bowing in return. 'I did at least bid them to keep the funeral-boat till you arrived… Your father has been laid in his casket, but they waited for you to set him upon the Anduin.'
Mithmír nodded bravely, gulping to hide her sob. 'That was kind of you. May the ceremony be this eve, at twilight?' She noticed Aragorn's odd look. 'Please, Aragorn. It is important to me. Herimle.' I beg of you.
'Of course, my little elfling,' he said kindly, squeezing her hands once more before letting them go. 'I shall ride out to the river bank with you in an hour so we may be ready. The boat has been long finished in Osgiliath, so we shall launch from there – if it pleases you…?'
'It does,' she said with a slight smile. 'But may I also decide who rides with us also?'
'Of course,' Aragorn agreed easily. 'But I ask you first – allow all his friends, the Dúnedain, to accompany us. They loved him nearly as dear as I.'
'Of course,' said Mithmír with a slight smile, enjoying a fleeting memory of happier times – though what or when those times were, none on Middle Earth now know, but perhaps there was one Elf that she later told. 'You should come, my dear uncle. And Faramir also, as Steward and my brother.' She looked back and smiled over her shoulder at the man, who was blushing with pride. 'And may I also ask…' her cheeks coloured to a rosy pink, 'that Legolas Greenleaf comes with us?'
Aragorn stifled a chuckle, trying to remember that he too had been young and unsubtle once. You still are, he reminded himself chidingly. Not young, but unsubtle. 'Of course, my Lady,' he said gravely.
A flicker of hope; a hope and desire that even she would have denied; appeared fleetingly in the girl's eyes. 'Is my… is my mother here?' She tried to sound careless, but with a flash of inspiration Faramir silently realized her feelings. They were so typical and normal that it would not be expected of her to harbor them. She had lived her entire life trying to please a mother that, though she loved her daughter dearer than all else, had never quite been happy with her own status as a mortal – or her child's. Mithmír desperately wanted to prove her worth, as a mortal or no – though that was wrong now, even if he did not know –. He felt a surge of pity for her. He learnt new things about her every time he met her. Aragorn felt it too, and he replied slowly and with care.
'Nay, lass. Your mother could not reach here in time. We gave her no forewarning, and Imladris is many days' journey away even by the standard of Elves.'
Mithmír looked crestfallen for a second, but assembled a mask over the emotion quickly, as if she had had much practice. 'Oh. Well, it's a long way.' She smiled bravely. 'I go to lunch now – I'll see you in an hour.' She hugged him once more – so tight she looked almost as if she were trying to hold together the pieces of her shattered heart – and then, with a cry of farewell, left the Hall. Faramir, with a bow to his King, followed after her.
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When Mithmír told her gwador [brother] of her meeting with Elbereth Gilthoniel, and of the granting of her wish, he promptly dropped his bread into the soup.
'Are you joking with me, Mithmír?' He asked, incredulous, retrieving his now soggy bread.
She motioned for him to keep his voice down, but an excited and proud smile tickled the corners of her mouth. 'I am not lying to you!' She assured him happily. 'The Star-Kindler came to me and granted my wish.'
Faramir's eyes went wide and he swallowed his mouthful of boiling soup in a rush. 'You're an Elf then, my sister? My little Mithmír, the shield-maiden, an immortal?' He looked at her ears critically – they were certainly not any more pointed than they had been before. 'I have never heard of such a thing happening before.'
'It has,' Mithmír said with confidence, 'but it's rare. Very rare. But I made the right choice, Faramir… didn't I?' She pleaded for reassurance.
He realized how vague and unsupportive he had been. Spontaneously he leaned over the table to draw her into a bear-hug of such love that it almost forced all the air from her lungs. When he finally moved away, he said with a chuckle, 'that's wonderful, Mithmír! I wish you all happiness for your new life as an Elf! Though I cannot say I will be comfortable with being an old man while you are still young and deliciously beautiful.'
She blushed and stared at her empty bowl. 'It won't be a new life, just a… fresh chapter of my old one. And I'm not beautiful, Faramir, you know that. Especially not for an Elf,' she added with a slight huff.
'I find you beautiful, so you must be,' replied Faramir firmly, finishing the last of his soup with relish. 'And Aragorn does also. So does your father.' He waved away Mithmír's corrections. 'Does, Mithmír, not did. And also,' he winked at her slyly, 'I'd wager a fair amount of coin that the Elf Legolas finds you attractive too…'
He had hit a nerve as he intended, but far from making her annoyed she blushed all the more. 'I don't think…'
'Of course he does,' Faramir said in a matter-of-fact tone. 'Don't hide it from your loving brother – I won't get too jealous.' He laughed out loud. 'I feel terrible for attacking him back there… He must be nice, in fact, incredibly nice, for him to meet your standards. Why,' he said with a cheeky grin, 'even I didn't qualify to have you, and that's something!'
Mithmír laughed and punched him playfully. There was silence for a while as they left the dining-hall and walked out into the bright sun of the City streets. Mithmír breathed deeply. A great weight had been lifted from her ever since that final battle against Sauron. The effect of the victory was evident everywhere, in fact: the smiling faces of the children – now mercifully returned to their home – shone joy about them, and the cries of womenfolk in the streets were proud and beautiful. She looked at Faramir for a while; and noticed – she had been so wrapped up in her own problems before that she had not looked at him carefully – a great change in him, and one for the better, or so it seemed.
Never one to beat about the bush, she said bluntly, 'what has made you so wonderfully happy while I was away, brother?'
He looked at her. The time had come to tell her of his accomplishments… It was a wonder, indeed, that she had not heard of them already – the rumor of him and the lady of the Mark was running rife through the City. 'You are not the only one who has gained, Lady,' he said with a slight smile. 'And your beloved Elf is not the only man to have drawn a shield-maiden to him, and to feel blessed for it.'
Mithmír was on him in a second, hugging him close, and asking many questions that were barely decipherable from her praise and exclamations of joy. She spoke fast and loud when she was particularly moved, and so it was now. Faramir was forced to pin her hands to her sides before she calmed down enough to ask coherently, and somewhat accusingly, 'and who is it? And why haven't I met her yet, Faramir?'
'Her name is Éowyn of Rohan, Mithmír, and she is all the world to me.'
Mithmír felt no jealously. She knew her feelings for Legolas somewhat excluded Faramir also, but her love for the Man was still ever as strong. She embraced him spontaneously again. 'And the answer to my second question?'
'Let her come to your father's funeral, Mithmír. She was in the Houses near your father and talked to him often and at great length. Then you shall meet her.'
'Alright,' Mithmír said, squinting a little in the sun. 'I had better meet this girl who's stolen your heart from me!'
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