Mithmír went to find the hobbits to say her farewells to first.  She felt deeply energized and excited, and she could almost sense the power emanating from Tegalu on her finger.  She had never been in possession of anything so strong as that simple ring.  Nevertheless, she felt apprehensive at the prospect of meeting her friends for what might well be the final time; as there was a chance she might not see them again when they were in the Shire.  Truth to tell, she found meeting Frodo at any time now disquieting and even distressing: she could sense that the sorrow and pain in his eyes, the emptiness in his soul, could not be healed by any healer's hands on these shores.

The four companions were assembled in a large pavilion devoted purely to the consumption of food and drink.  They were seated around a small table, Merry and Pippin on one side and (predictably) Frodo and Sam upon the other.  It appeared that the Ringbearer, for so he would always be known even now his ordeal was officially over, had eaten very little; and shook his head firmly whenever Sam pressed him to have more.  Sam's own plate was clear of food, and Merry and Pippin were tucking into what Mithmír assumed would be their second or third helping.

'Go on, Master Frodo, you must eat something,' urged Sam in a soft, kindly voice.  'Just some fruit?  It's good food, here, you really would be surprised at what the Elves are able to get for us.'

'I'm not hungry, Sam,' replied Frodo in a distant voice.  'Though the food is undoubtedly good.'  He smiled a little, but the look was not encouraging as it should have been, for there was precious little light in his blue eyes now.  'Do you remember when you first met the Elves, Sam?  And you commented on how happy and sad they were, and how different they were from what you had expected?'

'Why yes, Master, I do,' replied Sam with a grin far more pleasing to the eye than his friend's had been.  'And I stick by it: the Elves are wonderful, yes, and I will always think so, but they're not all as they're said to be in the tales.'

'Many things are not as they're said to be, Sam,' replied Frodo in barely a whisper.

Mithmír judged this as a good time to announce herself, seeing the worried look on Sam's normally cheery face.  She coughed loudly, and made her way over to stand at the head of the table.  'Hobbits!'  She greeted with as bright a smile as she could manage, before looking over each of them in turn: Merry, Pippin, Frodo, Sam.  She had planned to tell them quickly why she must leave – she was wise enough to know Merry and Pippin would have told Frodo and Sam as soon as they first saw them, and so there was little for her to say – but she was suddenly struck by how much older these hobbits were than when she had first seen them so long ago in the Golden Wood.  Not only years had changed their faces, but wisdom and many things they should not have seen clouded their eyes.  Overall, however, their gazes were still bright: only Sam and Frodo had truly suffered, and Frodo most of all.  She pitied him.

'You've come to say goodbye?'  Asked Pippin cheerily around a mouthful of what might be omelet.  Mithmír found herself wondering how the Elves had managed to find the ingredients for, and prepare, such food.  This returning journey was very different from her outward one.

She nodded slowly, her heart suddenly heavy to leave these people.  Frodo and Sam she knew well, and she held some kind of respectful love for the Ringbearer in her heart, alongside the pity.  She should miss that pair as close friends made ever closer by being together in dark times.  Merry and Pippin she did not know as well, but what she had seen never failed to make her laugh.  She would regret not getting to know them better.  'Yes,' she replied.  'Not forever, though, or so I sincerely hope.'

'Meriadoc told us where you were going,' Frodo returned.  A trace of his old smile lingered on his lips, and Mithmír would have at that moment given nearly anything to win back the soul of this brave hobbit.  'I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time.  And of course you shall see us again: you travel faster than our company, but will delay in the Golden Wood.  We should meet again in Imladris.'  His voice turned sorrowful, and his eyes lost their focus for a while.  'And maybe later, when I travel again, I shall see you by the ships as you come to say a final goodbye…'  The significance of this whispered sentence seemed to be lost on the other hobbits, but Mithmír understood it and knew it to be true.  After all he had been through, there was only hope and happiness for Frodo in the Undying Lands across the sea.

She nodded.  'Yes, we shall meet again in Imladris.  You are right.  And then again later, it can be guessed, in some years' time.  But now I must ride, and quickly.  Farewell, Meriadoc, Peregrine, Samwise and Frodo.  Till we meet again.'  She found her voice to be choked in her throat, and to her everlasting surprise (she had not known she was so fond of the little people) tears glistened in her dark eyes as she made her way from them, the first four friends who had set out with a terrible burden so long ago.

Considering that Aragorn was waiting for her in the stables with Brialvastor, and she would see Legolas last, only left for the Elven Dúnedain to take her leave of were Gandalf and Gimli; both of whom she knew she should see again.  Gandalf did not hide the fact that he planned to sail across the Sea, but before then he should visit Gondor often, and with luck Ithilien too.  Gimli and Legolas should see no end of each other, she knew and acknowledged with a wry grin, so from his company she would be parted but a little while.

The pair were together, luckily for her.  Gandalf was tending to Shadowfax, as he always did for he allowed few others to handle the incredible horse.  Gimli was sitting nearby, excitedly explaining his plans for a Dwarvish settlement in Helm's Deep with lots of hand movements.  He seemed so involved in his passion for his plan, that he did not notice the warrior approach.  It was Gandalf who looked up, and smiled softly.

'Greetings, Mithmír Rochiwen,' he said gently.  'I have heard you are to ride out now and heard for Lothlorien.'

'Eh?'  Grumbled Gimli, looking up, annoyed and gruff and being so rudely interrupted.  'You're leaving, rider-maid?'  He didn't look too depressed at the thought, and Mithmír didn't mind.  She could grudge him a little time of Legolas' company – especially considering how her love had been acting.  Maybe things had been going too fast, and they needed some time apart.

'I am indeed,' she replied, with a respectful nod to the Istari.  'I came to say farewell to both of you, for a while at least.  And to thank you for your company.  You've been greatly appreciated.  I never thought I'd meet an Istari.'

Gandalf smiled and his eyebrows bristled.  'It was my pleasure to meet you, Mithmír Rochiwen.  I had heard many tales of you, the best of which were true.'  He chuckled kindly.  'And the rumors and gossip of untrusting Bree-folk were all false, I am glad to say.  You were indeed a worthy companion in the War.'

Mithmír blushed a little.  'My thanks, Gandalf, though I am not sure I merit those comments…'

The next words, coming from the mouth of the Dwarf, shocked Mithmír to the core, coming from him as they did.  'Ye do, warrior-maid.  You're a decent fighter.'

Mithmír turned wide, brown eyes on the Dwarf.  He had complimented her!  And being called "decent" by Gimli was a high honour.  'Thank you,' she replied breathlessly, unsure of exactly what to say.

Gimli grumbled something back in return, and perhaps his cheeks reddened under the cover of his thick beard.  He had only just realized he had paid a compliment to the woman, and the idea disconcerted him.  What had he been thinking?  Was he a Dwarf or no?  Embarrassed, he quickly turned and shuffled away, muttering Dwarvish curses all the while.

Gandalf smiled after him, before coming forward to lay a fatherly hand on Mithmír's shoulder.  'You should hurry if you wish to reach the borders of the Golden Wood in time for the handfasting.'  He lowered his voice.  'Also, the quicker you leave, the quicker Gimli the Dwarf will be able to regain some face.'  He chuckled a little.  'Go, shield-maiden.  Ilúvatar willing, we shall meet again.'

Mithmír smiled once finally at Gandalf's wizened face and Gimli's back, before turning quickly away on her heel to go and find Legolas, and a much harder goodbye.

***

I know I said this would be the last chapter, but I'm having real writer's block with the next part, so I decided I'd post this bit on its own.  The rest should be up a.s.a.p.  I also posted another short fic called A Light To Guide which I would be honoured if you checked out and reviewed.

Also for this chapter, please review and constructive criticism is welcomed.  And trust me, in the next and last chapter you find out why this story is called All Rivers Flow To The Sea.

Thanks!

-- Annaicuru