The conclusion to Chapter 27, but not the conclusion to the whole fic just yet. *g* There will still be just a few chapters to come, but they should be properly happy and fluffy now.

I'm not sure how many people are still reading, but if you are I would love to hear from you in a review. :)

Hope you enjoy!

~ RR

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Chapter 28 – You Have Only to Ask

* * * * * * * * * *

The country of Rohan offered far fewer forests than Gondor, in which to spend an afternoon’s walk.  Edoras, though, was surrounded enough with markets and sloping streets that Mírra and Doran could find ample location for a private outing.  They went with the easy pace of two people whose attention could be captured just as well by their own company, as the bustle of the crowds around them.

Mírra turned over a cloth-wrapped parcel in her hands as she walked close beside Doran.  “Will this be right for Nolan, then?”

Doran watched her face, seeing how she thought intently on the purchase.  It made him smile inwardly. “He will be very happy to have it, certainly.”

“He wouldn’t prefer a toy instead, a small game over a book?”

Doran gave a light shrug.  “He is interested in fewer toys than when he was smaller… something to read would be fine for the age he is now.”

Mírra relaxed.  “My oldest sister became much interested in history when she was Nolan’s age.  I thought he might enjoy the same.”  She had chosen a small volume about Gondor, which included several illustrations, and pieces of description about each major town and outpost along the White Mountains. 

“Aye. Since seeing your city last year, he has grown curious about the country. Nolan will be happy to have something from you.”

Mírra’s expression warmed greatly.

Doran held a comfortable distance at her side and, finding himself slipping naturally into the proper gestures for the company of a female companion, always putting himself between the princess and the crowd of the street. He was used to keeping his eyes just low enough not to draw attention, but with the princess by his side, this became a different matter.  He was not used to pausing, and seeing gentlefolk nod to him in greeting.

“There,” he said to Mírra after the third time, “That gentleman, he purchased two colts from me last summer.”

At first she did not know what he meant. “He must have been pleased then, for he remembers you now.”

Doran shook his head lightly.  “He greets me because I am with you.”

“Ah…” Mirra began to understand. “I confess I’ve grown accustomed to it. At home in the city, it often happens when I go out to the markets, especially with Eldarion or naneth or adar.”  To Doran, she appeared thoughtful, but her cheeks reddened just a touch.  “I suppose I hadn’t noticed it now, because I’ve only been thinking about walking with you.”

She saw the familiar creases appear at the corners of his eyes, as he smiled more openly.  His voice quieted, conveying both courtesy and affection. “You do me an honour, lady.”

Mírra’s heart lightened undeniably.  As they continued to walk together a pleasant silence fell over their conversation.  Almost as an afterthought, Mírra drew her sable shawl up, and wrapped her hair and shoulders, cloaking herself more completely.

Doran was not sure what it meant, the added concealment, but he could not help wonder if it was his presence that hindered her.

“But you need not cover yourself… folk will not see you for who you are.”

“Nay, perhaps not,” Mírra said softly, her gaze growing tender as she looked back to him. “But they will see I am with you.”  She set her hand in the crook of Doran’s elbow, and he was reassured.  “And that is just enough.”

* * * * * * * * * *

The afternoon was already a few hours old before Eldarion at last ventured outside the Hall.  A cool wind greeted him as he stepped out over the courtyard that bordered the highest part of Meduseld.  Autumn had arrived, bringing an extra touch of gold to the plains.  The prince neglected his cloak, however, enjoying the freshness of the air.

Reaching back, he stood and stretched for a moment.  He had left his father after the meeting concluded, and would likely see him with his mother in a few hours, for dinner.  Since Doran’s arrival, his oldest sister had been much occupied with him.  His youngest sister would be sleeping.  He wondered if Lúthea was about.  Her company was always calm.

He found his question answered as he turned a corner to a private seating area, where Lúthea was settled on a bench, in a most familiar pose.  She was concentrating on a book in her lap, an apple core in one hand.  As she reviewed another page, she took a careful few bites.

As Eldarion neared, he saw her set the greatly diminished core neatly on a napkin beside her. She was closing the book’s cover when he stepped beside her, and she looked up and smiled.

“I thought you were meeting with the Lord Elfwine?”

“’Tis already done,” he said simply. “And the afternoon beckons.  Well… at least, what’s left of it does.” He gave his sister a grin.

This cheered Lúthea. She had spent so little time with her brother since their arrival. Having grown accustomed to his company on the journey south, and from the last few months in Rivendell, she realised how much she had missed him the previous summer.

Eldarion collected an apple from the dish where Lúthea had found hers, and took a seat beside his sister.  He stretched briefly, resting his eyes on the landscape of the Plains before them.  Looking over her shoulder, he glanced at her reading.

“Moving from the history of Arnor to Rohan with no difficulties, I see?”

Lúthea nudged his elbow at the jest.  “In part.”  She opened the cover and turned a few pages for him.  “I told Elladan I would take notes along our way south.  There is much to tell about Edoras, of course.”

The prince gave a curious smile.  “He gave you it as a task?”

She shrugged a little. “Sort of. I offered also.”  The wind caught a piece of her hair and she tucked it behind her ears again.  “He said, to tease me, that I had read so much I must have had all of Middle-Earth committed to memory, before I even set foot out of Gondor.”

Eldarion took her meaning.  “But now you can commit it to memory yourself, as you see it.”

She smiled sheepishly and ran her hand over the leather cover, before setting the book down again.

“I don’t know, sometimes.  I like hearing about places from other people… it becomes a story, that way.  But to go to them yourself, seeing so much like adar has, like you and Mírra want to do…” She bit her lip gently. “That is a different kind of challenge. I don’t know if it’s for me yet.”

Eldarion chewed a bite of apple thoughtfully.  “Journeying can often be challenging, yes.  But I’ve found that the destination makes up for that.”

Lúthea looked over at him calmly.  “Rivendell did.” A corner of her mouth turned up in a half-smile.

Eldarion gave her a nudge back.  “It rather did, didn’t it?”

Her smile widened.  “When you wrote to say you would be staying there for the winter, I was so disappointed because you wouldn’t be home.  But after we came too, I understood why.”

“There you are, then,” he said kindly. “Don’t sell yourself short, for you took to it just as it was your home.  Better than Mírra did, certainly.”

The princess looked out at the view, her expression becoming subdued. “She liked being there. But she had Doran on her mind.”  She looked back at Eldarion again. “And now we’re in Edoras, and he’s still the only thing on her mind. Now he’s here, she spends time only with him.”

Eldarion saw her shoulder sag slightly. It wasn’t something that had escaped his notice either, but he was beginning to realize that Lúthea had not understood until now what their sister’s new relationship was going to mean, in the grand scheme of things.

He sighed. “Well… she loves him. It is only natural.”

“I know,” said Lúthea in a quiet voice.  “I know she wants to marry him also, even though father has not said yes yet.” She stopped and hugged her arms gently against the cooling air.  “Do you think Doran is a good match for her, Eldarion?”

He held back the smallest of smiles at the question, for his sister was never nothing if not direct.  Giving a small nod, he answered simply. “Yes. I do think so.”

Lúthea sat up, looking back at her brother curiously. “Even though he is not a nobleman?”

He nodded again, calmly. “Even so.”

“Why, then?” Her tone was inquisitive but not accusatory. She simply wished to know.

Eldarion gave a very faint sigh. This was also something he had turned over in his mind, but by a different route than his sister had taken.  “Because from what I know of him, he is a good man, from a good family. He loves Mírra, and would care for her, and she would care for him.”

“I think so too.” Lúthea relaxed a little.  “But adar wanted her to wait, and so I thought she would, and perhaps wait for someone of her station.”

“Someone she did not care for?” Eldarion shook his head.  “Nay, she is lucky.”

Lúthea cocked her head. “Yes?”

Eldarion sat back. “She has the freedom to make a choice for love, now. Without obligation.”

Lúthea watched his face, and now began to understand his meaning.  “You mean to say, she is free to make a choice in a way that you might not.”

He gave a rueful smile, and tapped his nose.  “There you have it.”

She tucked her legs up on the bench, holding her knees as she thought.  “But there is no reason it should not be that way for you.”  She poked a finger at her brother’s sleeve. “I see the way the ladies in the court look at you.”

He answered wryly. “And how is that?”

Lúthea grinned suddenly. “Like they wish to look at no one else.”

The prince shook his head again, with mirth. He set his apple core aside and stood, brushing his hands together. “They may look, of course. But nothing more, not for a while. It is not my time yet.” 

Eldarion knew any woman he married would have obligations his sisters’ husbands would not. He was also well aware of the many pairs of eyes that followed him around court.  There were ladies that had in fact known him more closely… and though his second sister had grown older, she was not so mature yet that Eldarion would tell her about them.

Lúthea did not stand yet. She drew her lips together contemplatively. “The lady who marries you will be Queen, one day.  And since she will likely not also be peredhel, your life will exceed hers.”

The prince tapped his nose again. “For me, this is not a decision to be rushed.” His expression softened. It was a matter he had also given thought to.  “But I am happy for our sister all the same.”

She took his meaning, and nodded, not pressing him further.  “I am too.”

He let himself smile again, and extended a hand to Lúthea as she stood too. “Come.” The breeze was now becoming cooler as the afternoon wore on.  “Shall we go inside?”

Lúthea’s eyes brightened with an idea. “Chess?”

“You are sure?” The prince gave a wry look as they walked back to the Hall. It was a game they often played, but his sister had never won.

She nodded.  “I do not know if I shall win, but I like to play it with you.”  She thought for a quiet moment more. “But I shall still call for the white pieces.”

Eldarion grinned, and they went inside.  “Fair enough.”

* * * * * * * * * *

As uncertain as their initial meeting had begun, with it in the past Mírra and Doran seemed to have run through their quota of awkward moments, and their following days were spent in greater comfort with each other.

By the end of the week, Mírra had made a habit of meeting him in the market after trading had concluded.  When she found him today, he was packing a few last items.

She tapped on the doorframe.  He looked up to give a nod, straw-coloured hair falling briefly over his eyes.  Smiling, he paused in his work as he watched her step in closer.  He noticed there was extra colour in her cheeks from the walk outside.

“Am I too early?”  Mírra greeted him as he stood. 

Doran shook his head.  As she came beside him, he set a light hand at her back. “I would never refuse extra company of yours.”

She beamed slightly, raising her heels briefly off the ground.  No one was nearby to see, and she kissed his cheek. His skin flushed pleasantly.

“What may I do to help?”

“Ah, you need not trouble yourself.”  He was accompanied at the market by one of Doreth’s assistants, and her husband, who were more than capable of tending to things with Doran.

“No, I am happy to.” Her hand fell against his arm, and she slipped it into his palm.

He brushed her palm with his fingers.  “Alright, then.” Looking about the stall, he nodded to indicate the stacks of cloth that had not been put away.  “My sister would be flattered for you to help with her weaving, I believe.”

Mírra found a spare sack, and took up her task.

To Doreth’s credit, there were very few pieces of her cloth that had still gone unsold.  Mírra took one out, of a deep earthy green colour, and looked at it with friendly appraisal before refolding it carefully. 

Doran observed out of the corner of his eye as she ran her hand over the very fine weave.  “Green suits you.”

Mírra met his eye again, looking coy and flattered.  “That is what my mother often says.”

He made almost to respond, but stayed quiet for a moment, lacing a sack closed.  “She does not often use that colour.”

“No? It is lovely.” Mírra looked up but his eyes were on his work again, and she could not read his face.

Doran’s voice was calm when he spoke again, but more cautious than before. “…It was Nola’s least favourite colour. I think Doreth avoided it more out of habit than anything else.”

“Oh…” Mírra said softly, gently biting her lip. 

She ran her hand over the fabric again, examining it thoughtfully.  When she packed it with the rest, she handled it carefully, as though now wary of some unseen damage her hands might cause.

As her task was completed, Mírra returned beside Doran, placing her sack next to the others now ready to be stowed away.  His silence seemed contemplative, as hers had been.

She brushed the back of her finger over his arm, which brought a small smile to his lips.

“Is it difficult for you to speak of her to me? Of your wife?”

Doran’s eyes were warm as he turned.  “But we have talked of her, who she was to me. …Have I said too little?”

“Ah, I do not know, I did not mean to make you uncertain…”  Mírra leaned beside him, tucking her hand around his arm.  “But I do not wish you to feel as though you need to hold things back from me.”

He brushed her hair back, smoothing a small dark braid behind her ear.  “I will be honest with you, always.”

Mírra smiled timidly, laying her cheek against his shoulder.  “May I ask you something, about her?”

“Yes?”

She met his eyes briefly.  “How Nola was to you, how you felt for her… is it the same as it is for you with me?”

Doran’s breath caught faintly. What she asked was unexpected. “Ai, my lady…” He felt tongue-tied.

Mírra saw his hesitation. “What I mean is, I… I did not want to you to think I was… taking the place of your love for her…”

He shook his head. “Nay, neither should you feel that way….”

Mírra swallowed. She started to speak just as he did, which stopped them both

“She was such a part of your life, the mother of your son, but I… Do I fit also?”  Her expression was a mixture of questions. She asked not to press him, only a desire to understand.

Doran held her eyes a moment, thinking carefully, and took a slow breath in.  Taking her hand, he sat down on a nearby bench, and Mírra took her seat next to him.  She watched his face as he considered his words.

“I love you, and I loved Nola. But you are not the same person, and these are not the same times, and…” He stopped himself in mid-sentence. “No… I must say more than that.”

She nodded in support, masking her expectation.

“When I was a very young man, I looked ahead to the future so rarely… because the way it was then, was the way I thought it would always be.  I was married. I had my farm, and my house, and I was content.” His voice quieted.  “But it changed. And the things I had thought dependable… they fell apart when Nola passed.”

Mírra held his hand as she listened, knowing he had still more to say.

“I know there are reasons for all these things, but we are all Children of Iluvatar, and only He can explain them. Only now I am beginning to realize there may have been more in his plan for me, than I had planned for myself.”

He swallowed to steady his voice.

“We have made our peace together, Nola and I. I will always cherish her. But I know she would not want me to hide from my life, from possibilities, from love.” He held Mírra’s gaze, and his eyes were clear and warm.  “When I met you, it was the first time I knew those possibilities were real.” Stroking the back of her hand with his thumb, he was reassured.  “And so you fit because there is no need for me to question why.”

Doran released a long slow breath, and Mírra covered his hand with her other one, clasping it gently. She did not know what to say. It was more about himself than he had revealed before, all at once. She loved him, and in that moment, she knew it.

Mírra’s voice was hushed, and genuine. “To find a companion… a true companion. This is a rare thing indeed.  But… so I would be for you, if you would be for me.  And I would live my life well if it was a life with you.”

He touched her cheek with his free hand. “How I do love you.”

She leaned in and kissed him then, and her heart was opened wide to him. Doran kissed her back, pulling her into his arms.

So they sat together for many moments, in silent affection. With closed eyes, Mírra turned her face to his and comfortably brushed her lips against his cheek.

“You are certain, then?” He asked quietly, reluctant to disturb their shared stillness.

Mírra opened her eyes to meet his, and nodded as her cheeks flushed. “You?”

Doran mirrored her gesture. “Yes.”  He pushed a piece of her dark hair behind her ear.  “What is next, we both know, then?”

Though some butterflies of nervousness still fluttered in her stomach, Mirra smiled hopefully, and whispered. “You have only to ask.”

* * * * * * * * * *

In principle, it was a simple enough question. And Doran had already asked it once of her father already, Mírra reminded herself.  But there was no denying that this time, there was a much greater weight attached.

Eldarion watched his sister fidget as she went to look out the window yet another time.  He set aside the papers he had been reading.  “Remember what naneth always says about a watched pot?”

The princess flashed him a quick look.  “Ada’s been talking with Doran for an hour already.  Nana even went to meet them, but she has not returned either.”  She glanced out again, hoping to see them return through the courtyard.  Biting her lip, she came back to her seat next to her brother on the sofa.  “The questions they must be asking him…”

“Well, it isn’t simply an ordinary conversation they’re having,” said the prince a little wryly.

“Ai, I know.” Mírra found herself very aware of her breathing again, just as she had before she had first met with Doran a week ago.  She had to think at least part of it was excitement, hope.

Eldarion saw her fidgeting again, and smiled sympathetically. “Doran can handle himself, Mírra.”

She looked up, and then down again, but eased a little.  “It will be fine,” she said almost to herself.

Their conversation was interrupted as the door opened, with a brief knock.  The King entered, looking to his daughter.

“Ada…?”  There was no frown or stern look about him. He was kind as he always was.

Aragorn extended his hands to Mírra as she rose expectantly.  He took her shoulders gently and pressed a simple kiss to her forehead.  The princess found the gesture unexpectedly calming.

“Will you walk with me a moment, mîr-nin?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

They stepped outside, walking slowly to the courtyard.

Mirra looked up at her father, trying to anticipate what he would say. “You’ve spoken with Doran?”

Aragorn nodded. “We’ve come to an understanding.”

She gave an exasperating, almost teasing smile.  “Please, ada, you cannot keep me in suspense any longer.”

Aragorn smiled gently.  “I won’t. I only wish to ask you something.”

“Anything.” Mírra felt there was nothing she could keep hidden now, and did not wish to.

“Doran has spoken truly, and has come in good faith, and with good intentions for you.  I believe his is more certain about this now that he was a year ago.”  The King’s voice was careful, but he did not intend to test her.  “When you and I spoke then, you knew why I questioned the match.”

Mírra nodded briefly, anticipating what he meant. “You wished to give me time to think, time to myself.”

Aragorn paused just before they reached the courtyard.  “Was it the right course?”

She was unsure about the question until she realized her father did not ask it because he was uncertain about his decision, but because he wanted to know how she felt about it.

Mirra considered her answer for a moment.  "At first I did not understand quite why, and when we were at Rivendell, I missed Doran so very much.  But the time made me reflect on him, and myself. I hadn't expected I would feel so nervous when he arrived here... I had changed more than I thought I would, I think."

Aragorn listened attentively.  "How has this week been for you?"

She gave a tiny smile.  "It's been... ah, to see him in this way, with his work, and to be able to speak with him about so many things... To learn so much about him..." Her voice trailed off as she paused happily to try to find the words.  "It has been so comfortable, now.  I've come to know him in a way that I could not have, before."

When she looked to Aragorn for a response he was at first quiet, and though his smile was kind, there was what seemed to her a trace of melancholy in it.

Her expression warmed. "Have I give the right answer?"

Aragon's eyes became merrier then.  "You've spoken well, sell-nîn."  He took his daughter's hands.  "All I ask to know, is how you feel for this man."

“I…” Mírra swallowed, her expression softening. As she answered her father, she spoke with the honesty of her heart. “I love him, ada. I wish to be with him.”

He nodded, reflecting on her words, and then smiled curiously. "I had not expected this day to come as soon as it has. To give my daughter's hand to another."

Mirra's eyes brightened with sudden hope, and realization of his decision. "Yes?"

Aragorn smiled to see the joy in her face.  "Yes, mîr-nin, if you wish it to be so."

She put her arms around her father. "I wish it so, ada."

He held her tightly, until it was time to let her go.  Mirra saw him nod again to indicate the courtyard, where Doran was entering with her mother.

Aragorn spoke low enough that only his daughter would hear.  "Go to him."

Mírra kissed her father's cheek and did not notice the happy tears coming to her eyes. "Thank you."

He was only a few steps away, but she ran until she reached him, and was caught lovingly in the arms of her betrothed.