This is the third story in the 'Mithmír' trilogy. It follows 'The Daughter Of Elves And Men' and 'All Rivers Flow To The Sea', to be read in that order. I'd be grateful if you could click on my username above and go and give them a look! This story will make very little sense if you haven't read those ones first. There is also a work-in-progress short story related to this one, 'Elven Dúnedain'.
A lot of people would call this story a Legolas-romance, but I'd prefer to say it is a lot more than that – there's just a character who's in love with, and engaged to, Legolas Thranduilion.
If you've read the others, you will understand this beginning. If you haven't, I don't think any amount of explaining could make you truly understand it. So please read the others.
Enjoy and please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed.
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The journey changed her. It was more than a trip to be present for the handfasting of two of her good friends: it was going back to the beginning, returning to her childhood home as a different person from that as which she had set out. Returning as no longer a child, but a woman.
The traveling between where she had left Legolas and the Golden Wood was easy by the Dúnedain's standards, despite her wearying haste. She was happy to re-strengthen her bonds of love and comradeship with Brialvastor, and she talked with him often as they journeyed and on any subject that came to mind. He would listen with the intelligence of all purebred Elvish horses; laying back his ears at talks of orcs and snorting playfully to hear how Mithmír's voice sung with emotion when she spoke of Legolas whom she loved.
It rained all of the day that Mithmír at last approached the borders of Lothlórien. Her grey cloak became soaked through; and Brialvastor's temper wore thin as quickly as her own till he was nearly un-biddable. They finally came under the cover of the trees in the late evening, the horse's flanks steaming. Mithmír pulled down her hood and wiped away those strands of hair which were stuck to her face with the back of her hand. The pair remained still for a while after that; two sets of dark eyes scanning the wood about them as water dripped from every inch of their forms to the grass below. It was Mithmír who broke the almost unnatural stillness: she suddenly swung herself out of the saddle, landing neatly beside Brialvastor's neck. She petted his wet mane comfortingly before deftly removing his saddle and the bags – now mostly empty – which carried all her clothes and provisions. She laid all of these damp things on the grass, which was dry in the forest, and then whispered something in the stallion's ear. He snorted and nuzzled her gratefully, bad temper alleviated, before trotting off into the gloom beneath the trees, happy to be free to find food and a place to roll and rest. Mithmír listened as his hoof beats faded from hearing.
'You're just in time.' The voice came from behind her, and she did not need to turn – though she did – to know who spoke with such melodic and singular intonation. Tirathnavir stood there, tall as usual, his bow slung across his back. He was smiling, and a new bright light was in his eyes. The shield-maiden recognized it as the one she had saw in the mirror every day since Legolas told her he loved her.
Mithmír ran into his embrace, wrapping her arms about his slim body as he swung her about in joy.
'You've grown,' he told her when he let her down and loosened his grip just a little. He leant down to place a kiss on her cheek.
'You're to be handfasted!' she parried quickly with a happy laugh. 'Congratulations! You two are perfect for each other. I always knew things would turn out this way.'
'Then you knew more than us,' came another voice, just as Haldir's arms wrapped about her from behind, and Tirathnavir in front of her also. 'I did not dare to hope until we first kissed.'
'Which was an accident of the best kind,' added Tirathnavir with a slight chuckle. 'You are finished your watch so early, Haldir?'
'Arbrethil just came to relieve me of my duties,' acknowledged Haldir with a slight nod. 'I asked him to come a little early so I might meet you too, and not have to bear another moment without your company.' There followed a silence broken only by the sound of a fleeting, chaste kiss of greeting. Mithmír, being shorter than them and in between the pair, could not see, but the sound was distinctive. She could imagine the loving look on their faces.
'I'm so happy for you,' she whispered, speaking the absolute truth. 'You have my every blessing.'
'But we should not have the goodwill of your own love, Legolas Thranduilion, if we allowed you to stay in those wet clothes,' said Haldir, stepping back and picking up the discarded saddle and bags as if they were of no weight at all. 'We shall now go back to the room Tirathnavir and I share, and you may change.'
'You know of Legolas?' she was genuinely surprised.
'News travels as quick as flowing water and flying eagle among the Elves,' said Tirathnavir with a slight smile. He too moved away, and took one bag from Haldir. He would have taken more but the Marchwarden assured him he could manage. 'We know you are to be married, and we congratulate you on it. It is hard for us to believe that you have grown up so quickly; and indeed grown into an Elf.' He beamed knowingly, and Mithmír wondered how long it had been since Haldir and Tirathnavir became more used to talking of "we" than "I". 'It surpasses my eloquence – perhaps even Haldir's – to put into words how proud I am – we are –' he looked fleetingly at his Elven love – 'that you have chosen to which kindred you belong; and yet more that it is our own.'
'Now it is our turn to say "we knew this would be"!' laughed Haldir as the trio began to walk towards the center of the wood. Contrary to the Haldir that most people knew, who was sullen and rather arrogant, Haldir in the company of friends – as Mithmír knew him, and as he was now – was warm and accommodating, open with feelings and free-handed with shows of affection.
'What other news have I missed? What tales of the Elves, the wood, of Anoniel?' pressed Mithmír eagerly.
There was a pause, and Haldir and Tirathnavir's eyes met over her head. It was Tirathnavir who spoke finally, slow and careful, as if choosing his words with the utmost tact. 'We should prefer if we should wait to speak in detail till we reach our room, Lady,' he said simply.
There was silence for the rest of their walk, and a concern grew in Mithmír – for what could they not be happy to tell her in the open that was not bad news?