They rode fast out of the Hornburg that day; fast and hard.  Mithmír was used to it; however Gimli, among others, was not.  He did precious little but complain for all the first day's journey; and the near-constant gruff moaning threatened to drive Mithmír Rochiwen mad.  Unable to meet Gimli's eyes, and unwilling to insult Legolas' close and unlikely friend anyhow, the shield-maiden settled for looking intensely at the Greenleaf himself until he noticed her – which was very soon.  No Elf can be unaware of someone looking at them.  She then shared an exasperated look with him; and his eyes stared back, blue and understanding with laughter tickling their depths.

'I think your words annoy the Lady Mithmír, Gimli my friend,' he informed the dwarf almost immediately, turning his head back elegantly to eye the dwarf with one curving brow.  'See how she turns her stallion away from Arod and tries to move away from our company?'

Mithmír gasped in indignation.  'Legolas!'  She couldn't help exclaiming.  The Elf, however, appeared to be very pleased at his own lack of discretion and laughed as gaily and brightly as he always did, his head tilting back ever-so-slightly, causing his golden hair to glint ever more in the high-noon sun.

'It is true, is it not?'  He asked joyously, all the happiness of his soul shining out through his expression.

'I don't doubt as it is, Elf!'  Gimli retorted angrily, clutching Legolas' slim waist tighter than ever as the Green Elf looked away from the horse's head.  'But Dwarves and horses don't go together as well as Elves and horses; and few in deed were seemingly born in the saddle as your Rochiwen was.  I have every right to complain.  Your Lady may laugh if she will.'

Mithmír blushed, and glared as fiercely as she could at her love.  He, however, reacted as he had once before, and merely shot her an incredibly clear look, and as if his meaning were not apparent enough anyway, he also mouthed: your arms, my Lady, your arms should be around me like this…

Mithmír, as confused by the complex emotions as she had ever been, spun her head around with as much temper as she could manage, and Brialvastor willingly walked a little further away from Arod.  No matter how far away she was, however, she seemed to still be able to hear Gimli's complaints.

She slept on the first night far away from Legolas' resting-place; on the very outskirts of the camp.  She felt more comfortable that way, with her sword lying close beside her and her hand over the hilt; and the idea of protecting the others appealed to her nature, as it always had.  Tondfael laid his pack beside her, and rested in the same way as she, weapon to hand.  They talked late into the night, taking turns to keep watch.  The power of Mordor may have been broken; but many foul things remained in the world.  In those dark hours Mithmír learnt many more of the Aratirith's lessons; and all of the tales of their valour which were still known to the Eldar.  Her liking and closeness to Tondfael grew and grew; and their friendship strengthened quickly.  Soon they knew near all about each other, and she learnt many new and extremely valuable lessons: how to make him laugh, for instance.  This was relatively easy with the Aratirith, however: he was still young, for Elves, with no Ages of sorrow weighing him down, and so he was still quick to smile and be joyous.

It was a couple of nights later when Tondfael had a meeting with the Lady Galadriel, the Lord Celeborn, and the King Aragorn.  It was to last late into the night, and was to be held a way away from the camp, which is why Tondfael went – to protect them.  Unnecessary, probably – Aragorn was still a wonder with the sword – but it was his duty, and his honour.  Despite all her begging, pleading and clever arguments, Aragorn would not back down, and Mithmír was not allowed to go with the others when they left early in the evening.

She lay alone, on top of her thin blanket, as the night crept over the camp like some silent, welcomed conqueror.  Celebdîn's blade was cold against her side, but she nevertheless clutched the sword ever as tight, drawing comfort from the Elven-wrought metal.  She was lonely, after so many nights of constant conversation and then the silent companionship of knowing someone watched over while she slept.

She would not be lonely for long, however.  Gimli had been tired after "that excruciating darkness-sent torture method on a horse", and had gone off to sleep very quickly.  Unusually for Legolas, he had been unable to sleep himself; being unable to clear his mind of the gulls' cries which haunted him ever the more.  Eventually he stopped trying altogether, and got up from his sleeping-roll as silently and smoothly as the night-breezes.  He skirted the camp in a matter of seconds, feet falling lightly on the grass, and soon was standing, as one with the shadows, looking at the dark form of Mithmír on the ground.  He watched with baited breath, eyes wide with awe and wonder, at her chest rising and falling with her breath.  The movement was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen; and the love it aroused in him was almost painful in its intensity.  Here was another aspect of her being alive that he found almost hard to understand: she may be an Elf, but blades and other traumatic incidents still had the power to take her life.  The idea scared him, and made sorrow grow in his gaze.

He crept forward, eyes always locked on the rising and falling of her chest, wishing he could capture and keep every bit of air that escaped from her lips, for it was nigh on being the most precious thing in the world to him.

Mithmír sat up suddenly, bolt upright, her breathing catching in her chest as her adrenaline raced through her body.  She had heard no one's approach, but as with all seasoned warriors her sense of anyone approaching was very accurate and she trusted it implicitly.  She could not wield Celebdîn without getting up, which she was loath to do when she could not see where her enemy was, and so instead she reached behind her and drew her two daggers from the sheathes strapped to her back.

'Who wanders here, and approaches?'  She called out boldly, her eyes searching the darkness.

Under the cover of the night, something moved.