Author note: Another long chapter! It's mostly the showdown between Thranduil and Keren, which I just could not interrupt. It's taken me a long time to be happy with this - there was so much to cover, recapping old information and introducing some new VERY IMPORTANT things, plus I wanted it to flow like a normal conversation as much as possible without feeling like clunky exposition. It's ended up being a rollercoaster - it's not entirely what I was planning to write, Thranduil threw some curveballs in! You're never entirely sure where you are with him, and I hope that comes across.

Thank you for all your reviews on the last chapter - I really enjoyed writing it and I'm glad you thought it was a good one! Hello all new follows and favs, plus to those re-reading! I read through some of the early chapters myself a few days ago and got very nostalgic. I'll miss this story so much when it's done, and it's quite moving to see some of you saying that yourselves. x


Chapter Three - Upon the Throne

Thranduil stood atop a parapet high above the valley, and watched as his son crossed the bridge, upon the Horse-Lord's beast he had so befriended. Sat behind him was the human woman he had bonded with, arms around him to keep her seat, looking much younger than Thranduil had pictured, and not at all well. He studied her as they dismounted, watching as she fought to keep her legs from crumbling, her head from drooping.

Prideful then, he thought. And stubborn.

Just as he thought he would perhaps like her more than he would have imagined, for those traits burnt strongly within himself, she fainted.

But ultimately weak. A pity.


Keren awoke to gentle whispering, and a feeling something was missing. She opened her eyes in panic, and must have made a sound, for one of the figures in the corner of the room came swiftly over to her.

"Na vedui! Avo drasto, le a vellyn." The female elf spoke gently to her, but Keren could not bring herself to focus on the words.

"Where is Legolas?" she said in Westron, her mind feeling too addled for anything but her native tongue.

"With the King," the elf replied slowly in the same speech, "but he did not leave your side until you were healed. Why did you not tell him of the spider bite?"

Keren winced guiltily. That was what was missing - the pain that had throbbed in her wrist since crossing the Enchanted River.

"We were so close, I did not want to delay the journey any longer. I thought I could hide it, hold on, and heal myself when I got here. Stupid, really."

The elf made no comment, but looked to her companion in the corner of the room, before pouring water from a carved ewer into a cup.

"Be grateful it was just a young one," she said, "or you would have been dead. Legolas told us you had taken down a couple. You are brave. But he blames himself for your injury."

Keren did not know what to say, as she awkwardly shuffled up the bed in order to drink.

"I will send for food now you are awake," the elf went on. "You have slept two days through."

Keren tutted in annoyance, for that was two days wasted when she could have been buttering up Thranduil.

"I am sorry if I've been a burden," she apologised to the elf. "Is it you that has been tending me?"

"I and Nestoril," the elf nodded to her companion, who had come closer to the bed. "My name is Elior. We are healers here."

"Thank you," Keren smiled. "I am a healer too, back home."

"We have learnt much of you Keren, since your arrival, for Legolas has barely left your side, and he told us many things - of your home, your work, your meeting, your love for each other." She smiled.

Keren finished her cup of water.

"And do you approve?" Keren dared to ask. "I understand I have to convince your King I am worthy of his son."

"It is not for us to approve or no." Nestoril spoke up for the first time. "Just to see that you are well. I will go and get food."

Keren's eyes met Elior's as the other elf left.

"Oh, she does approve," Elior assured her. "It is the King she is angry with, for he does not. We all of us know he is set in his ways, and at times it is amusing, but it can be dangerous. Even his son's happiness is not enough to convince him to trust in you. And I am afraid you concealing your injury from Legolas has not helped matters."

Keren sighed. It was not an auspicious start. "Wonderful."


Legolas had watched as Keren crumpled before his eyes, and as he caught her up in his arms her sleeve had fallen back, showing him the obvious cause of her illness. A large red welt had risen up on the inside of her wrist, with two clear puncture wounds which had started to fill with pus. He had raced to his mother's old chambers, calling for help. There he had sat with her, watching as the two healers swiftly dealt with the poison in her arm, and only left when she was clearly safe from further infection, going straight to his father.

"Where is she, and where have you been?" Thranduil said by way of greeting.

"She was bitten by a spider, though a small one only. She will live, and heal quickly, thank the stars. I took her to my mother's chambers, where she is under the care of two of our healers."

He watched for any sign of reaction from Thranduil, for he was expecting cold fury at the intrusion of his mother's rooms. He had always planned for Keren to use them, for it was long since his mother had had need of them, nor was it tainted by the memory of her death, as she had met her end far from home. New life needed to be breathed into them.

"Did you know of her wound?" Thranduil surprised him by asking instead.

"I did not, she hid it from me," Legolas replied. "Upon reflection I imagine she did not wish to slow our journey, nor show any weakness, though it was foolish, and I wish she had told me."

"Ah, you admit she has faults then, this bond-mate of yours?"

"Of course, as do I, as do we all," Legolas said shortly. "But please do not think I love her any less because of hers."

Thranduil huffed in gentle amusement, almost fondly.

"I do not think that. I believe, I accept, that you love her. But I have lived through three Ages, and in all those thousands of years only three bondings of elf and mortal - "

"Can you not accept that we are the fourth?" Legolas asked quickly.

Thranduil smiled. "I am sure I will have many interesting talks with her to ascertain the truth."

Legolas frowned. "You know the truth already, father. I know you wish to speak with her, but you must treat her kindly, with honour and respect. She has done nothing to deserve your scorn, or your malice."

"Apart from wasting the resources of the only two healers we have left, when you tell me she is well-versed in leech-craft herself, and I am sure could have healed herself on the road, had she stopped and rested." His father's face suddenly turned stony.

"You cannot know that for a certainty," Legolas retaliated. "She was unfamiliar with the land, we may not have found the supplies she needed. She would have known it was more likely there were stores of healing herbs here, and she deemed it more prudent to wait rather than us having to hunt in the wild, with spiders on our tail. But I admit I wish she had shared the knowledge of it with me."

Thranduil was silent for a while, then turned his back, as he so often did when he gave orders.

"As soon as she is recovered you will send her to me. You will not be present at our first meeting, I do not want her lust for you to prevent her giving me truthful answers. I will wait for her to be fully healed, I will not be unreasonable. The feast will also be postponed. But I will know when the delay becomes too long to simply be recovery. And Legolas, know that every day she delays… Well, it is one less day you are married, and one more day closer to her death."


When Legolas returned to Keren he was overjoyed to find her awake, having eaten. She looked sheepish as he approached the bed, but he could not berate her.

"Sorry," she whispered nonetheless. "I should have told you."

He kissed her brow, conscious of the healers standing back a little.

"You are not the first to hide a war-wound for fear of judgement, my love, nor will you be the last."

"War-wound!" She huffed. "I was bitten by a baby spider whilst you were busy slaughtering the ones that could actually kill us."

He looked at her steadily, an eyebrow slightly raised.

"And would the Keren that I first met - the Keren whom I told would never see me in combat - would she have even tried to fight alongside me?"

"We both know the answer to that," she mumbled. "But now I have the biggest fight of all on my hands - convincing your father to like me. And even if he likes me… convincing him that a mortal could ever be a good choice for his son."

Legolas was silent for a moment, wondering how much to tell her of his meeting with Thranduil.

"How are you feeling now?" he asked instead.

"Oh, fine. Tired, but no pain, not really. Your healers are very skilled." She smiled over at Elior and Nestoril.

"She has been an obedient patient, my lord," Nestoril said. "Yet she has a strong spirit. Let us hope it stands up to our King."

With those words Keren seemed to pull her herself into action, swinging back the coverlet on the low couch she was resting on, planting her feet on the floor, testing herself for faintness.

"Fine," she muttered to herself, then spoke aloud. "Where are my clothes? I want to go to him, I need to speak to him before the betrothal feast."

"He has ordered the feast to be postponed, Keren, until you are well," Elior said.

"Well then, he will be pleased to hear I am recovered and wish to eat heartily soon," Keren said as she stood.

"Keren, are you sure?" Legolas took her hand. "He will question you for hours."

"What can he possibly question me about for that long?" she scoffed.

"I do not think - "

"Legolas." A flash of annoyance came into her eyes. "Remember your promise to me. If I need you, I will ask for your help. We are not on the road now, I am in my future husband's home, I need to prove my mettle, and fight this particular battle alone."

The elf's face settled into the displeased, stern look she had grown to know so well - the warrior's face, that hid his sadness.

"Do not think I don't need you sometimes," she said gently, "for I do. We both know those spiders would have killed me had I been travelling alone. But I want to look after myself when I can, however much I love you. You must understand, if your father sees any sign of weakness in me, that is how he will bring me down. And you, in a way, are my weakness." She had to smile at the ridiculousness of it all.

"He has banned me from being present anyway," Legolas admitted.

She laughed. "See, already he thinks he tests me, by taking you from me. I will tell him it was my choice to come alone, see how he likes that."

Her eyes met Nestoril's, who was trying to hide a triumphant smile. She had quickly come to like Keren's slightly reckless spirit, though she feared their King might yet break it. She went to fetch fresh clothes for Keren, heavy robes of green and brown, as all the wood-folk wore. Her charge needed to look as if she already belonged.


Keren kept tripping on the robes. She found if she shuffled slightly and held the skirts up at the waist she could attempt a slightly regal, gliding air, so long as she concentrated on where her toes were. A guard had gone ahead to inform the King of her requested audience. She was sure, absolutely certain, that he did not spend all his day sat upon his throne, but was doing it deliberately to intimidate her.

When the guard returned with a curt nod, which she assumed meant to follow, she picked up her skirts again and entered the vast chamber, where winding paths and bridges interweaved through the empty space. Tall, carved pillars seemed to grow up from the darkness below. She looked down, which was a mistake. The parallels with Caras Galadhon did not escape her, although the height here was not achieved by building in the tops of trees, but by delving down deep into the earth, like the dwarves.

In the centre of the cavern was a thick column of rock, that appeared naturally carved, almost like a tree rising from the depths, and atop this tree of stone was a small open chamber. A narrow curved stair led up from this to a large throne, where she could just espy a figure draped over it, appearing at ease, lazy almost.

Working twice as hard to appear graceful, and more importantly to not trip on the folds of her gown and go tumbling down into the darkness, she made slow progress behind the guard, who had to keep turning and waiting for her, which she was sure the distant elf-king was watching with amusement.

An uncomfortable amount of time later she finally reached the throne, where Thranduil had stood to greet her, which greatly took her by surprise. Without saying a word he took her by the hand, and bowed before her. She tried not to frown with confusion as he led her up the curving steps towards his throne, coming to a halt as they reached the massive chair, and stepping aside.

"Please, you are still weary." And to Keren's utter amazement he gestured to the throne. "Why don't you sit for a while?"

She knew her face must be showing distrust, so she decided to speak her mind.

"This is some sort of trick," she said quietly.

"Not at all." Thranduil smiled. "We have much to speak of, and I can't have you fainting again."

She frowned, but sat herself upon the throne, with a slight lift of her chin as she did so.

"Well, thank you," she said, not sure how to proceed, but being entirely sure he was meaning to confuse her.

"So, pray tell me your story," he smiled, and stood before her, hands behind his back in a respectful way. "All of it." Ah, there was the hint of steel she was expecting.

"Where would you like me to start?" Keren asked. "What has Legolas told you?"

"Let us assume he has told me nothing - I would like to hear everything from you."

Keren cleared her throat.

"Very well." She shifted uncomfortably in the huge throne. "I am three and twenty years old, born within the second level of Minas Tirith, if that means anything to you. Until this year I worked as a healer - I am skilled with herbs and surgery. I have a sister who is three years my elder, who is married with a son. My father is a carpenter - though relations are… strained. My mother died when I was eleven."

"Strained?" Thranduil had picked up on the word she had been struggling over, as she had expected.

"He does not love elves, for reasons that I shall share. By marrying Legolas I'm - " She took a moment to breathe, for she did not want her voice to shake. "I am dead to him. I do not expect to ever see him again."

"And does that grieve you?"

"Of course," she said shortly. "Things were just starting to mend between us."

"To mend?"

"My father was always distant after my mother died, my sister and I thought it was because he blamed us for her death. But instead it was because we reminded him of her too much. It turns out he was just… well, he was afraid to face the past."

And here she cast a knowing look at Thranduil, hoping for him to feel in some way recognised, that Keren knew of his own fears. But the Elvenking remained stony-faced, and she could not tell if the barb had found its home.

"Go on," was all he said.

"When my mother died - "

"How did she die?" Thranduil interrupted.

"Of grief, long in the making. But I will get to that. When she died she gifted me with a stone of foresight, although I did not know what it was at the time, I was only a child. She never told me where it came from, only saying a friend had given it to her. She raised me on stories of elves, so part of me dreamed of a mysterious elven princess who had befriended her and given it as a gift. I had no idea how close my fantasy was to the truth. I took its advice, soon after my mother's death, and became a healer, along with my sister, within the Houses of Healing in the city."

"Took its advice?" Keren had the pleasure of watching Thranduil as he desperately sought to control his face from showing just how intrigued he was.

"It speaks to me. Sometimes. Much more since I met your son," she realised belatedly.

"Where is this stone now?" Thranduil asked.

"With my travelling clothes, in my chamber here. I normally carry it with me unless I can guarantee its safety. Legolas is keeping guard - I did not wish to bring it to this meeting, lest it blind you from what we most need to speak of. For it is a rare jewel, crafted by Fëanor, no less, and I know you like… shiny things," she ended limply. She had been trying her best to sound imposing.

At that Thranduil could no longer disguise his doubt.

"You are seriously expecting me to believe that a commoner from Gondor, with not even a drop of noble blood, possesses a precious stone carved in Valinor, by the most infamous of my Noldor cousins, so long ago that time was measured differently?"

"Yes. Ages may have passed, but the lineage of its owners is not that great: from Fëanor, to his brother's daughter, to my mother, to me."

"Brother's daughter? Galadriel?" He almost laughed, but then stopped himself. "But wait, you were indeed in the Golden Wood, a ward of hers. Can it be so?" He was talking almost to himself.

"It is so, although I can see how improbable it all is," she admitted.

"So explain, how did your mother know the Lady? For she seldom strays from her lands."

"She was born in the Golden Wood. My grandmother died there, as a result. The family had been travelling south when they were waylaid by orcs - all others were killed, but my grandmother, who I am named for, was found by the marchwardens of Lórien. Mother lived there until she was of age, and then she was sent south, to end her mother's journey, to find her family. But she pined for the Wood and its people, and though she married my father and had a daughter she was not happy, and by cover of night she fled. She journeyed alone, something I think I would dare not do, no matter what was at the end of the road, but she was met with stern welcome in Lórien, for she had forsaken her marriage vows and abandoned her child."

Thranduil was still, processing all she had said. It was a tale she felt ashamed to tell, for though she understood her mother's pain, she could not forgive her for leaving Palen behind. If she had taken her with her, what then might have happened? Would Orwen have been allowed to stay? Would she, Keren, have even been born?

"So after a few weeks she was sent back," she went on, "and then Galadriel gave her Tinúnil, my crystal, and the green gown, which she wove with her own hands. Oh, sorry, I'll get to the gown in a minute," she added, for she knew her story was weaving back and forth. "But they were not for my mother, they were for me, the daughter that was to come. The Lady told her that she would have a daughter, and she would name her Keren for her mother. And… and she did."

I really need to work on how I end stories, Keren thought.

"All this sounds most portentous, I'll admit," Thranduil said. "Not only do you bear an elven stone, but you are the subject of a prophetic vision. Do you think you are important?"

He said this not in a mocking way, but with genuine curiosity. Elves were well attuned to the art of prophecy.

"Not alone," Keren said, "but with Legolas I think, maybe. We are the first this way around. Elf male, human female I mean." She cringed inside at the lack of finesse her phrasing contained, but Thranduil nodded.

"This thought had crossed my mind. The unions between elf and man have all produced children with the blood of both in their veins. But with you, 'tis not a certainty - "

"Yes, I know," Keren said quickly, interrupting. "But we are not concerned with that yet."

"My thoughts once would have turned to Legolas and his future heir. But the time of the elves in Middle-earth is ending, and I shall be the last King of the Woodland Realm. Besides he no longer desires to dwell here, for his heart sings in the south, close to cities of men, under the long shadow of the mountains."

His tone grew wistful, and Keren could find no words of comfort. But she did not need to, for soon Thranduil's mind jumped back to the crystal, as his mind was oft bent towards treasure.

"What grants its power of speech? Your stone."

"I only hear it in my head. Only once have I heard a true voice, as if embodied. The night I recognised my bond to Legolas."

"But whose is the voice?"

Keren did not even have to think about lying. She had not even told Legolas.

"I know not. It has not told me."

He raised an eyebrow, but did not press her.

"My son, before he journeyed to find you in Lothlórien, said he suspected you carried a stone of some power, but you were keeping it a secret from him."

Keren surprised him by smiling.

"He sensed it from our very first meeting, and once, after we had known each other a while, I could tell he was pressing me to tell him about it. But I was not yet ready to speak of it, for I knew next to nothing, and I especially did not want to speak of Tinúnil's prophecy to him, not then. Though we were friends my heart was then elsewhere, as I am sure he has told you, for he knows everything now."

Thranduil was suddenly very still, and she sensed a worryingly triumphant air about him.

"He has not," he said, his body taught as a string about to release an arrow. "You loved another? And what prophecy?"

Keren went cold inside. Was she really going to have to regale the whole story? She had planned to leave out Faramir's part entirely.

"The stone told me of someone who would come to me, change everything - the love of my life I suppose. As a child I took it at face value, for of course that is what I longed for. Now I see there is more to it, there are words within it which indicate that in fact, it is not just about two people meeting and falling in love. It speaks of me and Legolas, and the work we will achieve by bringing our two people together, elves and men. The power to change all, it said."

Thranduil chose to ignore this. "But you did not think it was Legolas at first, for you say you thought it spoke of one of the race of men."

"Well of course, being eleven at the time, I did not think I would ever even see an elf," Keren said drolly.

"Who was this man then, that you - mistakenly, you say - loved as a result of prophecy?"

Keren sighed. Thranduil was bound to use this information against her, but there was nothing for it but to go on.

"His name is Faramir, son of Denethor." Thranduil's eyes widened - that was a name he had heard of, from far beyond his borders. "Legolas met his brother Boromir before he perished, on his journey protecting Frodo the hobbit, the bearer of Isildur's bane. As I'm sure you know Denethor died in flame during the siege of our city. Faramir is now not only steward to the new King, but Prince of Ithilien in his own right. He is wed to a shield-maiden of Rohan, sister of their King, and they have a son."

"Was he wed when your infatuation started?" Thranduil asked.

"No," Keren said shortly. "Look, is it really necessary to know the whole tale? There is nothing in my heart for him now, it was but a child's dream."

"But something must have led you to flee to Lórien. What better than a broken heart?"

He leant himself companionably against the chair of the throne, but Keren remained quiet.

"Keren, one of my conditions for your union with my son was that I was able to question you unreservedly. I do not do so out of malice, but to ensure Legolas's trust has been placed in the right person. So please, I wish to hear the full tale."

Without looking him in the eye she capitulated, for she knew she had agreed to such a thing.

"The prophecy told me I would meet the son of a ruler, someone that all grew to love. And I would recognise him when he stood under the white tree. When I wore a green gown - green of the forest," she added for good measure, seeing as they were in one, "he would know me for his love. Well, the first man I saw under a white tree was Faramir, and for ten years hence I loved him. Perhaps infatuation at first, as a child, but growing to true regard and affection. He - he returned my love for a time, and yes you can laugh, for I know I was a simple healer and he the son of the Steward, but there was more at work than my green-sickness. Although I was mistaken in the subject of the prophecy, nevertheless the Lady Galadriel told me his part in it all was important, as my heartbreak over him brought me to Legolas, brought me to Lórien, where I discovered much." Keren declined to mention the cryptic comment the Lady had made about Faramir's part not yet being over. She did not like to think of it overmuch herself.

"So for comfort you fell from the arms of one man straight into another's," Thranduil said. "Or rather, from a man to an elf, one of the Eldar, so far above you that - "

"No, that's not how it was," Keren interrupted, not wanting to hear more of Thranduil's pomposity. "I grieved over Faramir for a year after meeting Legolas. And you know we did not fully bond until the winter just past, though he was aware of it long before I."

"Yes, and I often wonder why that should be," Thranduil said, as if expecting an answer, but Keren had none, so he went on.

"So, the Lady of Light takes pity on you, takes you under her protection, literally, to her home. Where she tells you… what?"

"She seemed to know much of me, before I even knew her name. I trusted her, though I feared her a little. Lothlórien was… like a dream. I remember it vividly, and yet it feels like it was not real. Although I know I could not speak the tongue of your people if I had not journeyed there, so it must have been real."

"Pedig Sindarin?" he asked quickly.

"Haldir en Lórien, mellon nín, ar Rúmil ar Orophin în henair, golthanneth Sindarin enni," she said smoothly. "Ach ú-bedin Quenya. Ah ú-chenion ae pedil lim."

"I will speak slowly then," Thranduil answered in the same tongue, "for it is a strange yet joyous thing to hear my speech fall from your lips. I had not expected this."

"Legolas did not say?" Keren was a little disappointed.

"Perchance he was leaving it as a pleasant surprise for me. I admit - I am impressed."

Keren could not quite bring herself to smile.

"I have told you everything now," she said instead.

There was a little silence.

"I think not," Thranduil said. "I asked you what Galadriel told you."

"I have told it all already," Keren replied. "Most of what I have said to you I only found out last year, from the Lady herself."

"Your mother kept secrets then?"

"I think she was trying to tell me, with all the stories of elves she would read to me and my sister," she said, "but I do not think she could ever bring herself to talk of her time in the Golden Wood. It was too painful."

"How so?" Thranduil was by now genuinely entranced by her story, she could tell. Gone were the doubtful, judging looks - now he stood before her transfixed like a child, as she must have once looked to her mother.

"She… She loved one of the marchwardens - Haldir, the same that taught me Sindarin years later. But though he loved her he sent her back to my father, for he knew her life with the elves was over. I blamed him and Galadriel for her death, for a time."

"And yet if the warden of the Galadhrim had not enforced her leaving, you would not have existed. Her death brought you… well, everything. It brought you to my son."

Keren again did not know how to answer, and the thought made her uncomfortable.

"Have you told all of this to Legolas?" Thranduil asked, filling the silence.

"He knows everything you know," she replied.

"And is that everything?" His voice became a little cutting once more.

Keren sighed.

"There is one thing we have not spoken of," she lied - for even entertaining the idea of telling a soul about Varda felt wrong. There was also the matter of the things she had seen in Galadriel's mirror, some of which had already come to pass. "But not for wanting to hide it, only because I did not hold it of great importance. Galadriel, when I left Lórien, gave me a new name, although she said I did not have to use it, nor speak of it. So I wondered what it was for, really."

"The gift of a name from a High Elf is an honour indeed," Thranduil said. "She marked you out as one of us."

"And of course now I see why, for she had guessed - well, known - about me and Legolas for I don't know how long. It was her who gave me the gown after all, and even his betrothal ring."

"What was this name?"

"Ciraen," she said. "My Westron name was chosen so that they could be interchanged, a disguise for it almost. I don't know what it means, for in Sindarin it makes no sense."

"It is not Sindarin, but Quenya," Thranduil explained.

"You know what it means?" Keren wondered.

"I do," was all Thranduil said.

'And you're not going to tell me, are you?" she realised straight away.

He smiled. "Not yet."

She was boiling with rage, and yet she could not help but - slightly - be amused by his pretence of mystery. She was quickly getting the impression that a lot of what he did and said was only for show.

Thranduil studied her as he stood before her, with a quizzical look.

"You are not at all afraid of me, are you?"

"I was afraid of the idea of you, but now we meet… No, I am not afraid. I am honoured to be in the presence of a King among elves." She meant it too - her childhood fascination was burning strong.

There was a pause, as Thranduil sensed she had more to say.

"But…" Sure enough Keren went on. "I do not trust you. Your Highness," she added belatedly.

"My name will suffice," said Thranduil, as his son had said to her many moons ago. Was she surprised? Yes. "And why should you trust me?" he surprised her even more by asking. "My son has told you I am a recluse - a paranoid, selfish, lonely, frightened, faded King - bitter, angry and sad? My only thoughts of the outside world mere memories of dark times? I do not wish for you and he to be happy?"

Keren looked up at him as he delivered this speech, not blinking. But when she went to speak she found she had no words.

"Well?" Thranduil prompted. "That is what he has told you. Isn't it?"

She saw no point in lying, so she nodded, and she felt her hands clasp a little tighter onto the arms of the throne. She was being completely thrown off her planned approach to their next topic, which had to be - she assumed - the small matter of whether she had truly bonded with his son.

"And you know, Keren, in almost all regards, he is right." He took a small step closer to her. "I do not admit that to just anyone - but as you have, I hope, just told me everything you know about yourself, I feel I must go some way to placing us on a level field. But the one thing he is wrong about - so determinedly wrong about - is that I do not want the two of you to be happy. But answer me this, Keren: how can you make my son happy, mortal as you are?"

Keren finally found her tongue again, and went to speak, but Thranduil continued.

"I know what it is to love someone, with all your being, so that you can think of little else - I know what it is to bond with someone, only to have them snatched cruelly away from you. There is nothing I love more in this world than the memory of my wife - nothing… save our only son. And for my fate to be his also, I cannot bear it - I cannot accept that you will bring him the pain that I feel, every day. That is something I try and make him understand, every time we speak of it. But it seems he has accepted the pain that is to come."

"I know all this," Keren managed to say. "I am very sorry, I cannot imagine… I will never be able to truly understand, for as you say I am mortal. I am grieved that this is the fate I leave him to, but I cannot help it - "

"What grief have you cause to feel?" He interrupted, and for the first time his voice was sharp, though still quiet.

"I grieve for him of course," she said, a little angrily. "I know I will have naught but love from him while I am alive, but after I am gone he will have nothing. I see it, I feel it, every time I look at him, every time I see a knowing, a foreshadowing in his eyes, that, to him, my life is but a breath. And my heart breaks for him, for I love him. And I think even if we had not bonded I would have grown to love him. But we have bonded, and it makes it impossible for me to leave him, as I know it would do no good. We would just be miserable, for neither of us would find another, neither of us would want another. If we are together, if we are apart, either way - it is tainted by grief and loss. But we have been brought to this pass and all we can do is… is find the happiness where we can."

"Do you wish it were not so?" Thranduil asked quickly. "Do you wish you had not bonded?"

Keren felt herself grow emotional, and she willed the tears that shone in her eyes not to fall, not yet, not in front of this person who was now suddenly testing her will. She did not answer. Had he been lulling her into a false sense of friendship all along?

He came closer, as if sensing weakness, and his voice dropped to a whisper.

"Do you ever wish, when all is quiet and dark, and you are left alone with your thoughts, that you were not chained to my son?"

"However I answer, you will not be satisfied, so I cannot win," she muttered. "What would you have me say? That I would release him, forever bound but unable to be together? At least together we would know happiness for a brief while."

"But that would make your death all the more sorrowful, all the harder for him," Thranduil said, not without feeling. "A clean break now, a swift parting, before the seeds of love fully flower, and he can grow accustomed to you not being in his life."

Keren looked up at him, disgust written all over her face.

"That is truly what you wish? You want me to abandon him? If you had truly bonded with your wife you would know that is not an option."

"Do not question what I know!" For the first time he raised his voice, and there was a flash of pure danger in his eyes that made Keren truly afraid. "Nor question the love I have for my wife!"

Keren stood in response to his anger.

"Then imagine how you would feel if in fact she was not dead," Keren suddenly found herself saying, her voice shaking. "Imagine the pain, the grief you feel now in her absence, was caused not by her death but by her choosing, or being forced to choose, to stay away from you. Imagine knowing that she lives, somewhere far from here, mourning for you, because someone had told her that is what is better for her, better for you. That is what you wish to do to your son. And that disgusts me."

Thranduil was silent and pale, and Keren saw his fists clenching at his side. She could not see him breathing.

"I trust I've made my point." Keren threw a final barb.

The Elvenking did not look her in the eye, and for a brief moment looked as if he wished to collapse onto his now empty throne.

"Never, in three thousand years, has anyone dared to speak to me so." His voice was quiet, deadly. His guard, hearing the raised voices, had appeared on the dais. She took a step closer to him.

"I want what is best for Legolas," Keren said, a little more gently. "And I know you do too. I am angry because I cannot understand your apparent desire to make him feel more pain than necessary. And yes, I am angry because I cannot change our destiny. So I would like your help, your support."

"Who are you?" Thranduil said after a little while. "You speak to me not even as an equal, but as one who is below you, as a child to be chastised and made to see their mistakes. What can you be, to dare to speak to me so?"

The question threw her.

"I… You know who I am. I've just told you everything about me."

"Yes, but who has set you up? Who has given you power? The only mortals that have ever dared to argue with me have been Kings, or the bloodline of Kings."

Keren took a deep breath.

"I do not make it common practise to argue with kings, Thranduil." She dared to use his name as directed. "But no one has 'set me up.' If by 'power' you mean I am able to defend myself, or to speak the truth, then that is a basic human skill - or should be. I am just that - human. And if I really am such a puzzle to you then maybe you have spent too long in these caves. The truth is, you could be the King of the whole of Middle-earth, and you would still not have the power to stop your son and I loving each other. You can stop us marrying each other, you can separate us if you must, and cause your own son immediate grief, but you cannot control people's hearts."

"I have no intention of stopping you marrying each other," Thranduil said, and Keren frowned in confusion. "Have I ever given that impression, has Legolas ever said as much to you? Or have you just assumed?"

"I…. We…" Keren felt frustrated, still as if she was being deceived. And yet, there was something in Thranduil's manner that seemed to convince her otherwise. "You will have to explain."

"I first heard of you the moment my son returned home. Despite all his deeds of renown, his courage, his part in defeating the Darkness, all he could speak of was you. And I questioned him, I tested him, I did everything to try and twist his words against him, to make him realise he was mistaken. I even led him down to our treasure hoards, never expecting him to be able to find what he sought - a betrothal ring, for you. I used it as an attempt to prove to him his folly, his madness. An hour went by, and another, and I stood and I watched, and I started to smile, for no ring was he satisfied with."

"Wait, I - I saw him," Keren realised. "In Galadriel's mirror. He was climbing up piles of treasure, deep underground."

Thranduil gave her a strange look, but went on.

"But just as I thought he would give up, just as I thought he would admit there was no bond, and therefore no ring for you, I hear a shout of triumph, and he returns to me, wielding that which you now wear."

They both looked down at the gems set in the thin band of silver upon her finger.

"And I knew he spoke true, I knew that he had found his bride. There was nothing I could do."

Keren was silent, and she felt a dull anger at how sad Thranduil sounded.

"That ring came with me from Doriath," he went on. "It is very ancient. Some say Lúthien herself once wore it, when she and the world were young. Perhaps she, who was willing to marry a mortal herself, was shining her blessing on your union." He gave a wry smile.

"Have you told Legolas this?" Keren asked, stunned. Well she remembered the night in the caves where the elf had told her the tale of Beren and his Nightingale. She had felt uneasy then.

"I have not, but I am sure you now will."

"I… May I sit down again?" Keren asked, for she suddenly felt drained.

"You need not ask," Thranduil said. "I know you are more unwell than you would care for me to see. You are frightened, not of me, but to show me weakness."

Keren sat as gracefully as she could in the throne, resisting the urge to put her head in her hands.

"I do not think you weak," he said shortly. "Not having met you. But are you ready to understand all you are taking on by marrying him? There are our customs for one thing."

"Yes I have heard these famous customs," Keren looked up at him. "A betrothal feast, the two sets of rings, that lying together equals marriage, that you will set me a challenge, that at least a year must pass between betrothal and marriage, yes I know, I know all of it."

"Impressive," he conceded. "But I wonder how much you know of our lives. Our deaths."

"I know you can die. In battle. Or of heartbreak. Nothing else. And Legolas told me if that happens, you eventually get sent back to live again."

"I see. And did he share what happens if we do not die prematurely? What happens to us then?"

Keren was confused.

"Well, he - he said you are forever tied to the world, so I suppose you just… live forever. Here, or in the West."

"Not so," said Thranduil. "Well, not quite. There comes a day when an elf has lived so long that the physical body fails, or rather, fades away. But however our body dies, our spirits cannot, bound to the earth as we are. So we become wraiths, no more substantial than air amongst the living, and we cannot speak, and we cannot touch, and we cannot feel. A deep flaw in our creation. Whereas you, mortal child…"

And here he reached out to touch her face, and she did not flinch away, for she felt a connection begin, an understanding.

"You will be free," he whispered. "Free to sing the music of Eä, free to watch creation unfold from beyond the great Void, free of any memories, of pain or joy - just part of the music. And you will leave my son behind, where he cannot reach you, and you cannot reach him. You see, Keren, when our kind marry, that bond continues beyond what you would call death. I know one day my wife will be sent back and, even were I faded beyond all sight, I could find her. But Legolas… although he could traverse the heavens, he would never find you, for your spirit will have fled beyond even the farthest star, never to return. As a wraith he will wander, watching as men take dominion, watching as the Ages pass, far into a future that none of us can see. And throughout the thousands, millions of years, none will see or hear him, though he may brush past them to feel less alone. But he will be alone - unto the world's end."

Keren did not realise she was crying until Thranduil wiped away a tear from her cheek.

"I - I didn't know," she found her voice. "He didn't tell me. I'm - I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I love him."

He knelt before her.

"But your love is not strong enough to stop this from being his fate, and for that I am as sorry as you," he said sternly, but not unkindly. "You are very young, but you are brave, and good - I can see that. And I am sorry for you both. But you now understand my reluctance to accept this, however much I know I have to."

Keren sniffed and looked up at him.

"You are not what I was expecting," she admitted. "Well, not entirely."

"And I say the same to you," he replied. "You are a good match for my son, in all ways other than the one that most matters. I do not withhold the gift of marriage from you, nor has that ever been my desire since knowing he had truly bonded. But I hold to my terms - we are a proud people, and there is already much that is strange about what is to come - we must be seen to uphold our traditions. As a mortal wishing to marry the child of an Elven King, you are subject to trial. A year from now you will be wed, if you survive the challenge to come."

Keren froze in place. Had she heard correctly?

"If I… survive?"

"Legolas has told me of his desire to start a colony in Ithilien. You will wed there, not here. But you must needs get there first, of course. I hear you have journeyed with friends for many leagues, to places unknown, and you have faced some trials - river rapids, mountain passes, giant spiders of course. You are not without courage. But you have never been alone; you have never, truly, had to fend for yourself. You have said to me, moments ago, that you would not dare to travel alone, regardless of what lay at the end of your journey. And that is what made firm my idea, so I thank you."

Keren felt dread lurch in her stomach.

"Your challenge is this: to get from here to Ithilien, entirely alone, within the year."

Keren blinked. All the kindly, gentle speech was gone, and suddenly Thranduil was standing, towering over her it felt.

"The rivers are forbidden to you," the Elvenking went on, "but you may take any route overland you deem best. Although remember there will be no such thing as an easy way. The forest, the Brown Lands, the Emyn Muil, the Dead Marshes and Battle Plains up to the very gates of the Black Land, all lie between you and your new home, depending which path you choose."

Angry tears came to her eyes. Had he even once meant a kindly thing he had said? He was more dangerous than she had ever supposed.

"You are forbidden to speak of it to Legolas, to anyone, until I say," he went on. "Think on it, and I will ask for your answer at the feast tomorrow, before all who are in attendance. It is your choice, Keren. I am not forbidding this marriage, and I never planned to, but I can make it as difficult as possible for you to get to it."

And he smiled, as if it was a game.


Author note: Let me know what you think of potentially slightly unhinged Thrandy! Do you think all is at it seems?