I just wrote all of this watching "Fellowship" again, drooling over Legolas :)  Some things never change!  This chapter slightly depressed me but my views on Mithmír's mother changed while I was writing it – she's gone from cold, detached Elf to someone I can actually relate to, which has to be good, and there are some aspects of her which are similar to Mithmír.

Thanks for all the reviews on the first chapter!  I hope you enjoy this one and please review.

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'Naneth!' said Mithmír breathlessly.  Mother!  'I thought you only came for Arwen's wedding and that you were already gone from the White City!'

Lómwing shook her head sadly, her eyes telling all the sorrow of her people, the High Elves who had seen the light in Valinor; the people whom she had forsaken to love a mortal man whose soul had now departed from the spheres of the world.  She placed a gentle hand on her daughter's arm.  'I am not so cruel as to leave you so soon!  Please, Mithmír Rochiwen, nín sell [my daughter], sit and we may talk awhile.'

Mithmír nodded slowly and took her place beside her mother on the bench of pure, white stone.  The courtyard was bathed in sunlight, the day warm, and she felt greatly at peace; disturbed only by the aura of great pain emanating from her silent mother.  She motioned politely for her mother to begin; though she was loath to awaken old wounds by talking – as they inevitably would – on her father.

Lómwing looked with troubled, grey eyes at her daughter.  Oh, my child, my love, she thought, you have truly grown to womanhood.  'You have aged much since we last met,' was all she said in a stately manner, trying to hide her breaking heart.  And you are so much like your father Dîntir…  A single tear dropped down her smooth, ageless cheek.  Mithmír felt helpless, confronted with her mother openly crying.  She did not know how to act.  Luckily for her, however, Lómwing continued to speak.  'I hear that you have decided to be counted among the Elves.'  She smiled bravely.  'It is fitting, I suppose, that as the mother loses her immortality and kin, her daughter takes her place.'  She patted Mithmír's hand lovingly.  'I do not blame you, nín sell [my daughter].  Far from it!  I wish you joy and good health with the fairest of people.  After the death of my beloved Dîntir,' another tear escaped her rain-cloud eyes, 'I have had little or no love for Men and the Doom that is upon them; even for Aragorn who was your father's greatest friend.  And now they have taken our Evenstar also, just as they shall take the beautiful Middle Earth after the Fair Folk are gone.'  Her eyes were unfocused, as if she was looking at something far out of the world.

Mithmír wordlessly put her arms around Lómwing, holding her firm against the tide of grief.  She realized that, no matter how much she was akin to her father, she resembled her mother also; in more subtle ways.  'No-sîdh.  Sí im.' she said comfortingly.  Be peacefulI am here.

'You are so kind, like your father,' whispered Lómwing.  Looking down Mithmír could only see the dark-blonde halo of her mother's perfectly straight hair.   'You seem so cold on the outside, so stubborn, the fierce warrior only and no more; but inside…'  She smiled, withdrawing from the embrace.  'Inside is the soul which is warm and loving enough to draw an Elf away from her people and the Western Shores.'  She lay her hands on her lap elegantly, effortlessly.  'Mithmír, the Elves are failing and the Sea is calling us again…'  A flicker of pain cast a shadow on her beautiful face.  'I can no longer follow that call.  Now my love has gone I may find no rest in Middle Earth nor Aman.'  She lowered her voice to the slightest of whispers, but the words were clear and their meaning easily understood and deathly serious.  'I stay here until my daughter is joined to her Elven love and needs me no longer.  Then I shall bring my end upon myself, dying by a sword even as my husband did.  I follow him then, to where I cannot say…  I follow Dîntir even as Lúthien did Beren.  And now the end is even harder to me, for my daughter shall never follow my steps…'  She sat tall and straight, and it seemed that a white light came from her.  'But Elbereth Gilthoniel blessed you, and for that I am ever grateful.  I am afraid, Mithmír Rochiwen, and I do not hide it: but my love for the Dúnedain Dîntir I do not renounce; and it shall give me the strength to endure the Doom of Men.'  She smiled again, and the look was so sorrowful that Mithmír herself wept.  'You shall see the Light of the Valar, Mithmír,' she said in a final whisper.  'You shall pass across the Sea, though it may grieve the part of you that is Human still.  Remember me then, and your father.'  She leaned forward and kissed her daughter's forehead almost regally; seeming once again like the High Elf she was.

'Cenlim a namanadh,' You shall see the white light and have eternal bliss, she said finally.  'Cenle lim awarthaim an meleth Dúnedain.'  You shall see the light which I forsook for the love of a Dúnedain.

And then she got up silently and walked away.  Mithmír looked after her in awe, seeing one of the kin of Galadriel as she truly was: tall and regal, bold in the face of fear, beautiful in her sorrow, and loyal to the end; with still the Light of the Trees in her soul.

'If I can grow up half the woman you are, nana [mummy],' whispered Mithmír, suddenly regretting the fact that, after her childhood, she had never spent much time with her mother, 'I shall be counted with the fairest of the fair and the wisest of the wise; and call myself blessed indeed.'

'Where shall we live, Legolas?'  Asked Mithmír realistically.  Legolas was walking with her in the square where the descendant of the Tree of Númenor – which Aragorn had brought to the City – had been planted.  It was twilight, and they had been talking over Mithmír's meeting with her mother before then.  The maiden was greatly distressed at the idea of her mother's unavoidable suicide; and Legolas had been consoling her – with little success, but at least she was becoming more accepting of the fact.

The Wood Elf looked towards the Tree as if for inspiration.  Mithmír didn't speak again.  She knew he had heard; knew he was thinking.  She was happy just being with him; feeling his body close against hers, his arm around her shoulders protecting but not restricting.  She leaned her head onto his chest, so his strands of pure blonde hair tickled her nose, and one of his plaits swung before her eyes with the rhythm of his footsteps.  She felt at peace, walking with this most beautiful of creatures.

Legolas' mind strayed, as it often did now, to the Sea.  He could still hear its call echoing in his thoughts; and here before him was a Tree whose ancestors were the Trees of Light who grew in Valinor before they were marred by Morgoth…  He prayed that Mithmír wished to cross the sea also.  He would not go without her; but neither could he stay and be happy.  'Where do you want to live, Mithmír Silfëa?'  He asked, buying more time to think.

She sighed, and looked up to the stars which were now beginning to appear.  'Aragorn offered us a grand mansion in Minas Tirith, or Osgiliath when it is remade; and I would live close to him; but…' she paused, and then turned her head up to her fiancé's, 'I love the woods, Legolas, the wild places, the rivers and dells.  I always have, but now… maybe it is that my Elven side is blossoming now I am immortal, but I desire them even more and will live nowhere else.'  She shrugged, and scuffed a small stone with her foot.  'I don't want to live in a city of Men, even if it is the fairest of all cities.'

'But you do wish to live somewhere close enough to Aragorn so you may visit him?'

'Do I detect a glimmer of jealousy in your Elven voice, Legolas Greenleaf?'  Said Mithmír playfully.

'Me?  Jealous?  Of anyone close to you?'  Asked Legolas, with a mock-incredulous look in his pretty face.  'Of course, my dear Silfëa!'  He stopped walking and swung her around into a close embrace, leaning down to kiss her slowly with all the grace and elegance of his kind.

Mithmír only reacted half a minute later by pushing him away, a flush rising in her cheeks.  'Legolas!'  She scolded, looking around them.  'Anyone could have seen!'

'They all know anyway, Mithmír,' replied Legolas softly.  'And I want them all to know how much I love you.'  His bright blue eyes sparkled in the growing darkness; his pale, ivory features emphasized by the growing shadows.  Mithmír realized again how stunning he was; and then a second later, how he was hers and hers alone.

'We'll talk first; and then you can sow them.'  Said Mithmír firmly.  'Yes, I do want to live near Aragorn.  And Faramir and Éowyn too: Faramir has been named Prince of Ithilien –'

'Ithilien?'  Legolas asked, instantly alert.  He remembered that country from their march through it on the way to Mordor: a pretty, wild woodland, full of life despite the shadow over it.  There had been Wood Elves of his kin there once; he could feel the impression of them in the place.  And it was near the Sea…  It had often occurred to him that he should like to start a Wood Elf colony there, and return it to its former beauty.  'How much of that land belongs to Faramir then?'

'I think that Aragorn said the people shall be relatively few, and act as rangers mostly – at least for the first few years anyway.  It shall centre around Henneth Annûn, of course.'  She began to guess Legolas' thoughts, and added quickly, 'there shall be much of that fair land left untouched, and owned by no one…'  She smiled knowingly.  'Maybe enough left for an Elven colony from Mirkwood, led by a Prince who wants a land near to the Sea and…' she winked mischievously, 'relatively close to the mines where his Dwarven friend shall live.'

'What makes you think I care for a Dwarf who lives only for rocks and dark caves?'  Asked Legolas, trying to look shocked at the suggestion and failing without caring.  His incredibly close friendship with the dwarf Gimli was well-known throughout Gondor.

Mithmír ignored his reply.  'Am I right about Ithilien, Legolas?  Would you settle there?  Would you start an Elven kingdom there by Faramir's kingdom of Men?'  She couldn't hide the excitement in her voice or the delight in her eyes.  This was a way she could be near all those closest to her!

Legolas couldn't deny her, seeing the happiness in her face, and truth to tell he liked the idea himself, and would probably have come to the same decision on his own.  'I'm sure there are many Mirkwood Elves who will follow their prince to a pretty wood,' he said with a smile.  'And even more when they see the beautiful face of the woman who shall be their queen!'

'Thank you, Legolas, thank you!'  Cried Mithmír, overjoyed, leaping into his arms.  'You cannot understand how much that means to me.  It seems all my dreams are coming true, and it's all thanks to you, Legolas.'

'You make all your dreams come true yourself, Mithmír.  You're still as self-sufficient as ever.  Don't ever become a helpless, dependant girl.'  He said with a smile, glad to see how happy an easy decision had made his love.  'Do I get that kiss now?'  He asked cheekily.

Mithmír happily obliged him.