Author note: Wow, I've managed to update within the month (just), can I get a round of applause? I know for many of you you're wondering - 'there are a lot of elves in this bit, but I'm missing *that* elf, so... where is he'? Well I promise you don't have long to wait now!

Thanks for all your wonderful reviews, it's made me super happy and relieved that the last chapter was worth it! And hi to all new follows and favs x

Reminder - when all characters in a scene speak Elvish I just use English - when Keren is surrounded by elves speaking Elvish and is not sure of it, I (try) and use Elvish.

WickedGreene13 - Her new name is pronounced 'Keer - ai - en'.

Certh - Urgh, I kicked myself! I got super cocky and was like 'I don't need to look this up', then you very correctly pointed out that I'd used part of Yavanna's name, not Varda's. (For anyone who doesn't understand that sentence, read the Silmarillion - it will take you ages but I promise when you get to the end of all the wonderful stories they'll probably never be able to adapt into film, you will be sat there with your *MIND. BLOWN.* that one man created this entire universe and multiple languages).

P.S. Has anyone seen the trailer for the new Tolkien film starring Nicholas Hoult? Looks great but full of what he allegedly hated, allegory ;-) Still I'll be going to see it for sure.

Chapter Seven - Galadriel's tidings

Keren did not sleep that night, nor the next. The first night she spent fretting, restless in her bed, willing herself to sleep but failing. During the day she wandered aimlessly through the forest, sticking to paths she knew, trying to wear herself out in order to sleep better the following night. But sleep did not come again, and unable to face another anxious night alone, she ventured down the steps curled around the tree to Haldir's flet. She did not know if she wanted to talk, or just sit in silence for the company. When she hesitated outside she wondered if he was even there, for she knew not where the brothers went to at night, not needing to sleep. But peering through the gauzy material that gave an unexpected amount of shelter and privacy she could see him lying, still and unmoving. She spoke his name softly.

"Haldir?"

There was no response from within, so she dipped her head between the gap in the fabric. Being lit with the same silvery light that everything in Caras Galadhon was by night, she saw him lying on his back, one leg bent and propped sideways atop his other knee, hands clasped across his front. His eyes were open, unseeing, unmoving. It was the first time she had clearly seen an elf in this restive state at such close quarters, and it unsettled her just as much as she thought it would. Instead of feeling comforted she instead felt panicked at where she was, what she was doing, who she was with, what she had learned. She felt an ache in her chest for home, for Palen, for Beregond, for the remnants of an old life. Short had her time been in Lorien when judged by the passage of days, but she may as well have been there from childhood, with the amount she had learned.

She retreated slowly, but instead of walking back up the steps to her flet, she found herself descending, passing Orophin's quarters, until she reached the ground. Then she knew where she was headed.

Retracing her steps to the place she had first spotted Elunis, she then found it easy to remember the way to the glade where her grandmother lay buried, and the two statues stood still and peaceful. She sat herself down, cross-legged, in front of them, and hesitatingly removed her crystal from its pouch. It was the first time she had looked at it since all of Galadriel's revelations, and now she was afraid to do so, for the voice which she had long allowed to guide her, that brought reassurance and peace, now was a frightening thing. There were two options – either the voice truly did belong to Elbereth, as Galadriel had said, or Keren was mad, and Galadriel was unwisely encouraging her delusions. Neither option was good. Now it lay innocently in her open palm, such a small thing to have caused all this upheaval, and all was silent. She did not know whether to be relieved or disappointed, for if it truly was Elbereth then Keren was blessed beyond all of her beliefs. But it also meant that she had the voice of a Vala in her palm, and she didn't really fancy having that responsibility for the rest of her days.

"So, what do I do now?" she found herself asking the two stone women before her. "And what do I believe?"

Her answer was only the rustle of the breeze through the trees. Looking up, she could see it was not entirely dark now, the first cold light of dawn beginning to turn the sky from black to grey. Soon the sun would rise. She took stock of the situation – the last time she had asked her mother for help, when Faramir had deserted her, it was a desperate plea, with tears and pain and heartache. The crystal was silent then as now. But now she felt stronger, and even a little wiser, and she knew she would have asked the same question regardless of whether her mother's image had been there or not, and she knew the answer would come from herself, not the crystal, not a statue, not even Legolas with his ready advice. Stunned with this realisation that she had, in fact, become a little more self-reliant, and had grown in courage, she began to wonder if maybe it did not matter what the crystal was. Maybe all this had happened because she had willed it to? She ran through the prophecy from her childhood in her head again.

One will be brought to you who will change everything. His love for you will be so great that you will not be able to comprehend it. Your love for him will overcome all. He is of noble blood, with a kind and brave soul. All who know him learn to love him. He is the son of one who sits in a great hall, the ruler of an ancient realm. You will know him to be your love when you see him stood under the white tree. He will know you to be his when you don the green of the forest. Go to the healers and they will put you on the path to him. His soul is waiting for yours. Go to the healers!

Could it really all have been coincidence? Truly? She started feeling the burn of embarrassment and shame to think that she had lived her life by words that she perhaps may have made up in her grief. She recalled the last time the crystal had spoken, the day she had run from Faramir when he awakened, so many moons ago. It had told her she had not long to wait until the events of the prophecy would be fulfilled, but of course she had had no sleep, no food, and was under intense stress from believing that the man she loved was dying. In short, she had been running on four days' worth of nothing. She wondered if truly all of her longings and wishes had been a delusion. But then… the mirror, she could not explain that, and she could not wish away that feeling immediately after Galadriel had told her tale – that feeling of total belief in all she had heard.

And if all was true, then what? For the prophecy had failed. She had found Faramir only for him to leave her, a little bit more broken than before.

But wait… She realised with incredulity that, in all the wonder and worry of the last two days, she had not thought of Faramir once. And now she was thinking of him it was with… acceptance, forgiveness. She loved him still, yes, very much, but she suddenly saw it from another's point of view, that, if Galadriel's tale was true or no, he really was only a very small part of her life.

And besides, she thought, the prophecy never actually stated that I would find my happiness through this man, only that we would love, and he would change everything. Perhaps I met Faramir in order to bring me here? But then, that would mean the prophecy was real. Oh, I don't know.

Her brow furrowed with frustration, for she was finding herself going around in circles.

Do not be troubled, little one. She replayed some of the earlier part of the crystal's words. You are young, and you have much to accomplish. Grieve for your mother, yes, for hers is a kind soul that will be missed, but do not let her death rule your life. You are destined for great joy, for happy times after your fair share of sadness.

At that moment the sun rose in the east, and a golden light fell on the wooded valley of Lothlorien. In Keren's small glade it permeated through the branches of the trees, and a solid shaft of light fell on her mother's stone face, as it had done in life. The breeze was blowing and the birds were singing. Orwen's upturned face was smiling, glowing, and free.

"Do not let her death rule your life," Keren whispered.

And then a voice whispered, so quietly she thought she had perhaps imagined it.

"At last," it said.

And she knew never again would she seek comfort and love from one who could or would not give it, for she had found the truth – that she did not need her mother, or Faramir, or Palen, or hobbits, or elves, or anyone. But wanting them was allowed, and that was very different.

"Thank you," she said, and it was far easier to believe she was speaking to herself than to the Lady of the Stars. "Thank you for the gift of courage."

Then she was stunned to hear a familiar voice clearly answering.

"That you had already had, little one," it said. "But now you know it."

Keren left the glade smiling, the crystal clutched to her heart once more. If she was mad then so be it, but she thought not. Rather she felt saner than she had ever been, for finally she was learning that she was accountable for her happiness, no one else. If it was Elbereth… well she was not entirely sure what people would say to that – that she was completely mad no doubt – so she vowed to keep it a secret, from everyone other than Galadriel.

Weeks passed, and Keren became a little more comfortable with the idea that she owned a stone that had been carved by Fëanor in the Elder Days. She tried not to think about its certain wealth and antiquity, but she did enjoy learning more about the great elven craftsman from the march-wardens. They were not born until many thousands of years after he had been killed in battle, but he was infamous, not really in a good way, and she was gripped by their animated retelling of his troubled, troubling life. Keren thought it strange that her mother had never spoken of Fëanor in all the many stories of elves she had shared, but perhaps she had been afraid of questions leading to the crystal which she had kept hidden for so long.

The lessons in Sindarin were progressing well, and although she was by no means fluent she was now able to hold simple conversations with Rumil and Orophin without much difficulty. In truth she had initially thrown herself into further lessons to distract her from her worries, but as she improved she enjoyed them more and more. She began using her progress in the language as an indication of time, for the leaves were still their autumnal gold, not yet dropping for the spring flowers, but she felt as if she had been there a full year. Another thing she tried not to think about.

One evening a large group of elves of Caras Galadhon gathered at a feast within the gardens of the Lord and Lady's dwelling. Keren had been invited, along with Haldir, Rumil and Orophin, and looking around she noticed it was an exclusive group. Many of the elves present were ones she had not seen much in her time in the Golden Wood, with the same grace and bearing as Galadriel – high-elves, who often kept themselves at a distance. There were also a few elves she did not recognise at all, all in green and brown. They made her think of Legolas, and she felt a pang of loss. No indication had been made of when, if, she would leave, and she wondered whether she really would see him again as he had promised.

All were sat around on heavy fallen branches, or finely carved chairs of wood. There was no artfulness in how they were laid out, and yet somehow it still made the most attractive arrangement of furniture and people Keren had ever seen. She chuckled to herself. After all her time with them she had learnt that elves were in fact far from the perfect creatures she had read about, but in one thing she had been right – looking good was a given, no matter the context.

A low murmur of chatter filled the clearing, and Keren asked Haldir what they had all gathered for.

"I know not, Keren," he replied, "but let us hope it is over quickly, for there is to be dining and drinking afterwards. But what has happened to your language practise?"

"Do you know who everyone is here?" she persisted.

Ú-bedin Annunaid," he said with an innocent shrug, and Keren tutted and rolled her eyes.

"Man ti?" She nodded her head towards the strange elves.

"Laegellim, od Amrûn," Haldir replied. "Am man ídhrog istad?"

"From the East?" Keren repeated. "They're from Mirkwood?"

"Eryn Lasgalen, they changed the name." Haldir switched to Westron and spoke quickly, whispering, for the hubbub was dying down as the Lord and Lady entered the clearing. "And you do not need to answer why you care, I already know. Your prince is not among them."

He looked at her and smirked, then turned away to watch the proceedings. Keren blinked at his back.

Does Haldir think I…?

But her thoughts could not go any further for Celeborn had stood, his arms held aloft.

"Dhe suilanthon!" he cried, and any mutterings or murmurings that were still being uttered fell silent. "Galdol," he said, far more quietly, "Tawarwaith. Tôl Ethuil, a heryn Vuin nîn a ross mer annin uin gearon."

"Haldir, you're going to have to translate for me," Keren whispered in his ear. Immediately all heads turned to her, and Celeborn stopped his speech before he had barely got past the introductions. She had forgotten elven hearing.

"Díheno nin," Keren whispered, mortified.

"You must forgive our friend's interruption." Galadriel stood and addressed the elves in Westron. Keren assumed this was for her benefit alone, which was mortifying. "This is Keren, a daughter of Gondor, and a Friend to all Elves. She is staying with us for some time. She is learning our speech, but such things cannot be learnt quickly, and I fear, husband, you were perhaps talking too fast. Nonetheless, the words we speak are for Elven ears, and not all of us present speak the languages of men well, so Keren, you must forgive us if you cannot follow all that is said, for we will proceed in our own tongue."

The strangers from Eryn Lasgalen looked at her keenly, and began whispering to each other. Keren couldn't even nod back at Galadriel, she was so embarrassed. The Lady smiled and took her seat, while her husband gave Keren a fleeting, not especially amused, glance, then continued. Keren became fascinated in a thread on her gown. Haldir was looking down, hiding a grin.

She could barely follow anything of the meeting, but rather out of choice than of skill, for all she could think about was how she had made a fool of herself. Haldir was no help, taking five minutes just to stop silently chuckling next to her.

She wondered why Galadriel had called her Keren, not her strange 'new' name. Ciraen – she was not sure she liked it. It did not feel like her, somehow, and she was very pleased she had been given an ordinary name to disguise it. She could not imagine herself ever answering to it, for it felt far too grand and ethereal for her. Perhaps the first time she had heard it would be the last. She silently wished it was so.

She found herself studying the Lasgalen elves, and picturing Legolas amongst them. They were in the same clothing as he had been when they first met, and their hair was also long and fair over their shoulders. But these were not royal elves, and if she were to hazard a guess she would say they were Silvan, not Sindar. They were shorter than her friend and, whilst still beautiful, had a little more wildness about them – even though they were, she assumed, welcome guests they still kept their weapons upon them. They did not look as if they were aware that she was staring, but she wasn't entirely sure she trusted that. Their faces remained cool and passive, whilst the Lorien elves reacted to Celeborn's words. Looking around Keren saw they looked sombre and sad, and she began to listen as best she could, for she feared she was missing something important, and she wondered why she had been invited to the feast if she was not especially welcome at this meeting.

"Mên na Valannor," he continued, then turned to Galadriel and spoke softly. "A nínion ne mened gîn. Ne man menin? Law iston."

The latter part was lost on Keren, but she had heard one thing clearly, that Galadriel planned to sail to Valinor, across the Western sea. The Lady in question stood and addressed the crowd.

"Thand. Lasto nin. Savo amdir, a reitho an glass. I dass carnen, a boe annin postad, boe annin mened, sevin chûr. Ne man menidh? Tolathodh?"

It sounded to Keren as if the Lady was asking her friends to accompany her, but she could not make out any more than that.

How long was Galadriel planning to stay? Was she truly leaving her husband behind? Keren felt a bittersweet sadness she could not fully understand, for her life was very short compared to elves, and comprehending sailing to somewhere she did not necessarily believe in was impossible. But that appeared to be what Galadriel was choosing. But of course, if she was to believe all the Lady had said, Galadriel had lived in the Undying Lands before. She glanced up at Haldir, who looked moved. It appeared every elf present had been expecting this announcement, but perhaps not so soon.

Much more was said and many questions were asked. The Lasgalen elves were silent and did not appear surprised, but did look interested. No doubt the tidings would be swiftly taken back to their King, and to his son. Keren pondered what being an elf must be like, what Legolas was facing as his thoughts turned more and more to the sea, as he had once mentioned they had. Her mind wandered to images of breaking waves upon a dark sea, of small grey ships manned by lonely sailors, of fierce storm-winds hitting sails – a world away from the quiet, sheltered wood in which they had gathered.

"Farn," Celeborn raised his voice, interrupting her dreaming. "Edílef. Nauva i nauva, a nai tiruvantel ar varyuvantel i Valar tielyanna nu vilya. Mado a hogo e-mereth."

He raised his arms and suddenly food was borne aloft on many silver platters and laid down on the ground. Goblets of wine were passed around and the atmosphere was quickly one of hurried conversations and pouring wine. Keren took her chance.

"Why are there elves from Eryn Lasgalen here? And it's not because of Legolas I'm asking, in case you think I – " She stopped herself from going any further.

Haldir gave her the honour of not smirking.

"Travel is fairly common between our peoples. We are all wood-elves, and it is useful to know any important tidings that can be shared. The Lord and Lady would have invited King Thranduil to this meeting, I am sure, but he has not left Mirk – his forest – for many years, save when his eyes grew large at the prospect of Dwarven gold."

Haldir's voice grew cold, and he frowned. Sensing Keren's confusion he explained a little.

"Beneath his halls is a vast pile of treasure, that he does nothing with, no good, no evil. It is just there, sitting. No one is permitted in there except his family and a few trusted servants. As long as it survives he will not sail West, and I believe it is the only thing he would be willing to fight for, now. I journeyed to his palace once, and it is a strange place, trees mixed with rock mixed with water, as if it knows not what to be. I had no wish to see his cave of gold."

"Legolas made no mention of any of that," Keren wondered.

"Your prince is perhaps humbler than his father, although I doubt it."

Keren poured herself some wine to cover the awkward silence.

"Well, he is my friend," she said, before taking a sip. "Not his father."

Haldir did not reply, and Keren sensed she would get no further answers if she pushed him.

"And now can you tell me what that was all about?" she asked, nodding towards the centre of the circle. "The Lady is sailing away?"

"Without her husband," Haldir replied, "but long have we known this. We just did not expect it so soon after such a great victory against the forces of darkness. The Lord Celeborn, he is grieved, and has been for many years since she told him of her choice, but she will not be moved to stay. She simply says this was always the right time – the ring of power she wields, is now just a ring, the destruction of its master rendered it useless. The protection, the spells she had woven around and throughout the land of Lorien, are broken. Time is creeping in. Change. Life is slow here, beneath the trees, you will have felt it, and normally it rushes past outside, but now – well, it is not even five months since you arrived here. The world is catching up with us."

Keren's goblet stopped halfway to her mouth as she tried to establish how she should feel. She was shocked at how little time had passed, and also relieved, for it meant that she had not missed too much of her life back home. But when would her time here end? Was there anything actually keeping her here now?

"You are thinking when to leave us," Haldir said.

"Not because I want to," Keren replied. "But I don't know really why I'm staying, I've found out everything I wanted. Perhaps it is time for me to go home. But that means saying farewell to the place that has sheltered me when I needed it, that has given me courage, and strength, through the things I've been told. And it will always be my mother's home. I feel like I can stay as long as I wish, and I'm not sure what awaits me back at home now. But still, Palen, my work. I need to go back."

Haldir was silent for a moment, looking into his wine.

"Ne man meninc?" he said casually.

"Meninc?" Keren checked the word, for she was sure it meant 'me and you'.

"Twice I have ridden with your mother to the edge of the Pelennor, twice I have seen her safely home. I would do the same for you." Haldir had changed to Westron to make sure she thoroughly understood. "So, when do we leave?"

Keren felt a surprising film of tears form over her eyes, as she considered what this elf had meant to her mother, how protective he had been to three generations of her family. She looked around at the beautiful group in front of her, who were all still speaking in small groups with solemn looks over to the Lady, who remained still in her chair, her hand upon Celeborn's. She caught her eye and gave a tiny smile.

"Not just yet," she said.

"Well, what news?"

Fourteen days later, the King of Eryn Lasgalen looks sternly at the messengers just returned from the Golden Wood. They have sped hastily back, as fast as their horses would allow, to bring him the tidings from the Lord and Lady.

"The Lady is leaving the Golden Wood and passing into the West, within the falling year, my King," the tallest one replies.

A quick nod, he had expected this.

"And?" He clasps his hands behind his back.

The messengers look at each other warily.

"And?" Thranduil is in no mood to be patient.

"The girl is still there," was the reply. "We saw her with our own eyes, she matches the Prince's description."

Thranduil exhales and turns to someone just off his shoulder.

"It appears you were right," he says.

Author note: Surprise! ;)