There is very, very, very, very mild, implied slash between the elves Tirathnavir and Haldir in this chapter. It's nothing, really. Please don't flame – if you don't like it, don't read it. This mention of her Elven friends from Lothlorien will be fully explained later when she finally returns to the Golden Wood. Basically (and this will be explained in one of those short stories when they're finally up!) she has always known they liked each other – elves are very accepting of different sexualities – but neither have, as of yet, admitted it openly to the other. That comes later. :-)
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He looked so peaceful, lying there, the dear ada [daddy] she had always loved. His hair had the same hint of a curl, his face the same smile-lines, and his eyes – could she see them – would have been just as wise, she knew. He wore his best tunic, and his hands were laid over his chest. He was finally peaceful… Mithmír realized death could not be as bad for the deceased as it was for those left behind. It was they who bore the long sorrow. She noticed, pleased, that Dintîr's sword Náring, Cold Fire, which had stayed by his side all his long life, retained its accustomed position at his side; the blade glinting – almost like her ada's eyes had, she thought wistfully – in the failing sun.
She was the last one to stand by his body before it was sent out into the swift current of the Anduin; the last one to pay her final respects. She could not find words to explain the myriads of feelings that her soul was screaming out; but she kept the weakening, betraying tears at bay. Instead she knelt beside the slim, beautiful boat, not caring that the wet earth muddied the knees of her dress – for she had, as she did once in a blue moon, put on a gown. This one was green and flowing. Legolas liked it; though he cursed himself for thinking of such trivial things at such a time. His heart yearned for the bent figure before him; for her vulnerability and the sorrow that, though she tried to hide it, obviously threatened to tear her in two.
Oblivious to all of these thoughts, and those of the other men (and woman, though she hadn't talked to Éowyn yet), Mithmír laid her head on the icy cold chest of the body before her, and her arm cradled her dead father's hand. Her eyes were stony and all emotions were hidden; but inside she was agonized for this final, irrefutable proof of her father's death: the motionlessness of this corpse; the lack of breath and heartbeat. 'I love you, ada,' she whispered almost silently. The churning roar of the Anduin whisked her words away, perhaps to where her father now walked, if Ulmo so wished it. 'I will always love you. You were my first love, and the only one that shall last all of my long, long life…' She half-laughed. 'For I'm an Elf now ada! Can you believe it, your little grey stone, an Elf! And Legolas Greenleaf, Sindarin Elf, Prince of Mirkwood and Thranduil's son wishes to court me and maybe marry me. And ada,' she added somewhat uncertainly, 'I think… I think I really love him, ada. Like Tirathnavir and Haldir do each other; how you love naneth [mother]. I finally know how you all feel towards your beloved now.... But at least I admitted it to him, unlike Tirathnavir and Haldir to each other.' She smiled a little. 'I think I will marry him. I know you'd say yes. And Aragorn will look after me, like he always does.' She stroked his cold cheek. 'And you will too, ada, from wherever you are. We will never be totally apart.'
She stayed there for a second longer, and then stood up briskly. She turned around to the others, and began to speak the words Aragorn had hastily taught her, but with her own variations. The speech was rather short but to-the-point and heartfelt.
'Here is a great man, a Dúnedain, true to his people and true to his beliefs. He died in combat with valor even the great Tulkas [a Valar] exults. He lived with the sword Náring by his side; and died likewise. He has passed as he lived; and that is no thing to be ashamed of.' Her eyes swept the crowd. All heads were bowed; and there was some weeping. Legolas was, as she noticed with gratitude, on his knees in the manner of mourning Elves, and tears were in his eyes that looked towards the Sea to which the river would take her father's body. She continued in a firmer voice, 'he shall be dearly missed by all those assembled here today: friends, companions, family, or all three, as applies to King Aragorn.' She smiled to her uncle, whose frown lifted momentarily. 'Our lives were touched by his, as a blessing from the Valar, and they shall never be the same again. We have only thanks for him.' And then she sang in a voice which was strong if not beautiful, moving if not overly dainty.
'Alnallon an fern;
Sennui no-gelir e cuin meduiannan,
A ammen anna-meleth.'
Do not cry for the dead;
Rather be happy that he lived once upon a time
And to us gave love.
Then she bowed her head, and in the silence cried out once, 'Im meleth ada!' I love you daddy!' And then she turned and gently slid the beautiful boat out into the current. Her eyes followed it down the swift way of the river; and only when it had carried her beloved father out of sight over the horizon did she allow herself a heart-wracking sob. 'May the Sea welcome you and carry you to Ilúvatar, ada, for you deserve it more than any of us,' she whispered to the water. Sudden gusts of wind blew up, as they often did in that land, and they made her hair whip dramatically around her face which was outlined against the sinking sun that glared red behind her. She looked as fair and desperate as the Elven maids of old, her pose defiant and yet despairing, her face striking and – to a certain Elf – arousing. Silently Legolas wondered if every man felt her sexual allure as strong as he did.
He didn't wait for Aragorn to go to her, as it would have been polite to. In stead he got up and ran over to her himself. He caught her supple and yet surprisingly feminine body in his arms and drew her in close to his body.
'Nín meleth, nín meleth,' my love, my love, he murmured in a comforting monotone, running gentle hands over the small of her back. 'You are so beautiful, you did so well… He must be so proud of you…'
'I know,' she said with a slight smile, almost imperceptibly wiping her eyes dry on his tunic, hoping he wouldn't mind.
Legolas gripped her tight once more, wishing he could hold her even closer still… Her naïveté was frustrating but wonderfully attractive too. He sighed; reminding himself that the best things were worth waiting for. And he would wait for her till the end of the world, never demanding of her what she would not give willingly. Finally he let her go.
'Lady Mithmír…' Said a female voice behind Mithmír.
Mithmír turned around. The woman before her had long, golden hair that was slightly wavy and moved a little in the wind. She wore a dress too, and looked equally as uncomfortable in it as Mithmír herself. Beside the woman stood Faramir, looking like the cat who got the cream, smiling both proudly and happily; and all the while obviously desperate for his sister's approval. 'This is the Lady Éowyn, my sister,' he said boldly.
Mithmír curtsied a little, and Legolas – taking his place by her side just as Faramir was at Éowyn's – and bowed smoothly, nodding his head deeply to the Lady Éowyn and glancing apologetically at Faramir.
'I have long wished to meet the maiden who stole my brother's heart from me,' said Mithmír far more jovially than she felt. She wanted to be alone– why did they all have to be here now? 'You live up to even his tales of your beauty!'
Éowyn blushed and smiled at Faramir with laughter in her eyes. 'Faramir most definitely exaggerates about me, Lady Mithmír, you needn't lie about that. But you are as wondrous and fair tongued as he always says.'
It was Mithmír's turn to blush now. She couldn't speak, however, before Legolas did: 'she is fair indeed, Lady Éowyn. The Steward Faramir speaks only the truth of you also, however, whatever you may say.'
'You must be the Elven warrior, Legolas Greenleaf,' said Éowyn with a smile. 'The tongues of Elves have always been sweetest in the ears and hearts of Men.' She nudged Faramir. They had obviously been talking of the argument that had occurred between Mithmír's closest. 'Don't you have something to say to this Elf, Faramir my love?'
Faramir looked once at Mithmír, who nodded encouragingly, and then cleared his throat. 'Prince Legolas,' he began politely and genuinely, 'I wish to apologize for being so rude to you earlier today in the Hall. I misinterpreted Mithmír's actions towards you; and grievously misjudged the situation. I acted rashly and with great ignorance. I would that you forgive me.'
'Your apology is accepted as one between the greatest of friends,' said Legolas lightly, smiling bright as was the way of the Fair Folk. 'For so we are, as brother and…' he paused for a second and looked at Mithmír with love in his eyes that nearly pierced the elf-girl's heart, '… beloved of the same fair lady. Anyone could have made the mistake, and indeed, I have behaved ill recently.'
Faramir smiled gratefully to Legolas as Éowyn and Mithmír shared a happy grin. 'My thanks.' He then turned to Mithmír and leaned forward to kiss her one the cheek lovingly, whispering for her alone as he withdrew, 'he will always love you with all his brave soul.' Mithmír was thankful for his words, and nodded to him; though she never found out whether he meant her father or Legolas.
'We must make for the City,' said Éowyn suddenly. 'I don't mean to be rude, but it's getting dark, and even with the Dark Lord overthrown, I should not wish to be out on the Pelennor at night.'
Mithmír looked at her sidelong as they made for the horses, her to Brialvastor's dim form in the fading light. 'I love night riding, lady Éowyn. It is invigorating and exciting.'
'Then you share my own view!' Said Éowyn with a pretty chuckle. Mithmír resented the all-too-happy sound, but tried to ignore it. 'It is Faramir who said those words to me, and almost persuaded me that they were my own thoughts. He is far too protective of me.' She smiled at her love warmly, before swinging nimbly up into the saddle.
'You are like me indeed then!' Said Mithmír when she too was mounted on Brialvastor and had greeted him in Elvish. 'We are both shield maidens and as wild as the horses, as free as the eagles…' She chuckled a little despite herself. 'And as untamable, headstrong and impatient! On another day I shall have to become more acquainted with you.'
'Indeed you are the same in many ways,' agreed Faramir as they began to ride away. 'And indeed there is also a better time for this. I will ride ahead with Éowyn,' he said with a meaningful glance to Mithmír, 'and Legolas may talk with you as Elves are wont – most probably of the stars,' he said with a gay laugh. 'And may he raise your spirits too. The others are all far ahead of us, following Aragorn, already nearly back at the City. We may catch them up. I shall see you tomorrow, my sister, and you, Legolas,' he nodded his head to both of them and then urged his mare into a gallop.
'Farewell!' Cried Éowyn with laughter in her voice before following.
The Elves did not talk to each other till their friends were well out of hearing; riding in silence, but closely, so their horses' flanks were nearly together, and their riders' legs rubbed at every movement of the animal beneath them.
Legolas was wiser than to ask her if she was alright. 'I love you, Mithmír,' he said simply, 'and so does your father.'
Then they rode in silence again, till they reached the ruined Gates of the White City, whence after a quick kiss they left each other.
It was in the dark night and she lay in a cold bed alone, her arms wrapped about her legs so she was curled in a ball, her head under the covers so that no one could hear her sobs…
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Hope you enjoyed it and please review! Thanks for all the reviews I've had so far by the way, you guys are great!!! (Did I make that clear enough? LOL)
