The three separated almost instantly after their conversation, Mithmír getting increasingly embarrassed about kissing Legolas in front of Aragorn. They were to leave the Hornburg later that day, and so Mithmír immediately headed for the stables. She spent a good hour grooming Brialvastor, trying to relieve her sense of guilt at having ignored him for so long. 'Bain roch,' she praised him dreamily while she brushed his dark body with the utmost care. Beautiful horse. Brialvastor, well-used to this, stood completely still but for his head which tossed impatiently from time to time. Mithmír finally stood up with a sigh, bending backwards till the tension in her spine was relieved. She patted Brialvastor's side, and then set to work putting on his saddle. She never used a bridle when she rode. Brialvastor followed her voice, and, if not, responded to gentle tugs on his mane. A harness-like thing around his head seemed completely pointless and degrading to Mithmír. She sometimes rode completely bareback, but on long journeys she preferred a saddle, and Brialvastor put up with it.
'I see you are still smiling, Mithmír,' said a familiar voice, gentle and loving, from behind her. Mithmír didn't have to turn around to see who it was.
'Yes, Legolas,' she said with a wider grin, blushing a little at his attention. She was glad he couldn't see.
'I see how much being allowed to be an Aratirith meant to you, now,' replied Legolas thoughtfully, letting his own horse, Arod, out of his loose-stall. 'And I shall be eternally glad that I answered as I did.' He whispered something in Sindarin to Arod, but it was too fast for Mithmír to catch. She was fluent in the tongue, or so she should like to think, but the Elves laid such intonation on their speech to impart the myriads of feelings needed that the words themselves seemed to transform near entirely from one use to another. 'Do you look forward to the ride?' He asked, after a while. Mithmír had turned to face him, sitting down on an upturned bucket. Legolas himself was checking Arod's hooves. Mithmír had learnt, to her surprise, that Legolas was like Aragorn: though both royalty, they cared for their own horses and would have no servants do it for them.
'Yes, to the ride,' she replied slowly, her forehead creasing in sadness. 'But no, for at Fangorn Forest I shall be parted from you. As much as I love my friends, and desire greatly to see them again, to be sundered for so long from you is hard to bear…' Her eyes assumed a faraway look as her mind strayed to the bittersweet memories of Tirathnavir, Anoniel and Haldir. She looked forward to seeing them greatly, but there was pain in the joy, for she knew that when she married Legolas she should see them much less than she had before, when she had been growing up with them. The War of the Ring had kept her away for a year – the idea scared her somewhat, but it was true – and now she should not return to her old life as she had once thought she would after her adventure was over. Nothing would instantly return to normal, she now realized, there was no beginning to things and, more importantly, no end. Normality and the life she had once lived were closed to her now, and she could never retrace her steps. She had made herself someone, she had fought by the side of the Ringbearer, she had seen death and pain and lost much of what she held dear – the old Mithmír was gone, now, but the new one rose from her ashes with the help of a Sindar Elf. And this one would leave her friends in Lothlorien and Imladris while she lived in Ithilien far to the South… But maybe the sundering should be different from that, she reminded herself. Perhaps some of her three friends were preparing to go over the Sea, finally – she knew the thought had been on Anoniel's mind in particular. And perhaps Tirathnavir and Haldir would go to Mirkwood with Celeborn when he returned, as Lothlorien faded without Nenya, one of the Elven Rings, to protect it with its magic? She doubted this, however. Tirathnavir and Haldir would stay together, if they had declared their love or no, and even as Lothlorien withered they would stay under the mallorn-boughs till the very last of their flowerings.
And in they end, even if the four friends were parted so, they would all sail over the Sea at some time. Or at least, Anoniel, Tirathnavir and Haldir would. Mithmír shied away from these thoughts. She would cross that bridge, over the river of her indecision and Man's still-strong love of Middle Earth, when she came to it.
'Do not worry, we shall come together again,' Legolas reminded her calmly. 'I shall only visit Fangorn Forest and then see you again in Minas Tirith.'
'You shan't visit your family?' She asked, surprised, being unaware her beautiful, somewhat secretive love had changed his plans.
'They shall come to Ithilien for the marriage,' replied Legolas with a deep seam of happiness and pride, 'but Calenhir – my brother – shall come even earlier. I have been brought a message from him by the Lady Galadriel, and apparently he cannot wait to see your beauty with his own eyes.' He turned to Mithmír, with laughter apparent in his bright eyes. 'He seems quite taken with you – though of course, he won't be getting you.'
Mithmír smiled back, flattered, but her curiosity was more important than Legolas' compliment. 'How does a Mirkwood Elf know about me?' She asked. 'Mirkwood isn't exactly, well, close. A message could not have got there…'
'Elves do not only converse in words written and spoken,' was all Legolas would reply. He may have been about to say more, and he was definitely about to be interrogated by Mithmír, but he spun to face the door as it was opened from the outside. Tondfael looked in briskly.
'Am I interrupting anything?' He asked with all the manners of his kind.
'No, please come in,' returned Legolas with equal grace, returning to praising Arod while Tondfael entered. Mithmír sighed. It looked like she had found another question on the Elves which none of them would answer.
