Author note: I am so sorry for all the issues with the last chapter. I did tweet FF about the general rubbish-ness of late, and saw that lots of people were having problems too, but I never heard anything back. Hopefully by now you will have seen it. I've been getting more reviews for it lately, so it must be trickling through. If you see this update, please check the chapter list and read 'Forgive, Forget' first if you didn't see it the first time! To everyone who saw it and left a review, thank you so much, this has been one of the trickiest but most rewarding parts to write. Please let me know if there are further issues, we're so close to the end and I'm really worried people aren't going to get to see the final few chapters of the story because of FF being so glitchy!
For anyone interested, I very often write to playlists (and walk to the playlists, and shop to the playlists, and drive to the playlists...), and I've started uploading them onto Sp*tify. FF of course won't let me share the links, it won't even let me type the name of 'the most popular music streaming service', but if you go onto my Sp*tify profile (singingsprite) you will see them. So if you too are a playlisty type of person, you can check out the songs that gave me a lot of inspiration/all of the feels. Some rather random choices amongst the standard fare - my music tastes are eclectic (I also fully stand by the fact that Kylie Minogue has a place in Middle-earth, being so obviously half-elf, half-hobbit). Books 1 + 2's are finished, Book 3's I won't post in full until the story is all published :)
Thanks patrons, reviewers, followers, favs - my little fanfictionfamily I've started to call you... And everyone who's just started reading who has been so kind to review or message me :) This chapter caused a tear, not necessarily from a sad place, to plop onto my keyboard. I hope you enjoy it. x
Chapter fourteen - Trevedril and Barhador
"My warmest congratulations on your achievement," Thranduil said by way of greeting.
"Where's Legolas?" Keren asked quickly.
"Gone." His face was stony as he replied.
"Gone. Gone? Gone where? I don't believe you." Keren was in such a panic her words started to run away, faster than she could get them out.
"It was, believe me, nothing on my part that caused him to go. It was this." He pulled a piece of parchment out from between the folds of his robes.
"What is it?" Keren had no time for games. "Why are you even here?"
"Yes, it was rather a strange moment for me too, realising I wished to leave my lands to see you again. To see if you had survived. Not for anything would I travel so close to the Land of Darkness, or what's left of it, I thought. But there - I was wrong. It turns out I would do so for my son, to see my son wed in the land of his choice, to the person of his choice. We made the journey together, and it was the happiest he had been for a very long while. We arrived a few weeks ago, and he was still hopeful of your winning through, though time grew short. Imagine my surprise when, a few days past, a messenger came bearing this letter for him. Do you know what it says?"
"A letter? A letter from who?"
"From," he made a show of checking, "the Lady of Emyn Arnen. I knew of no such person, but Legolas informed me of a certain Éowyn of Rohan, and a dim memory flared in my mind, of you telling me of a shieldmaiden of that land, wed to the man you were once in love with. What a strange chance, I thought. She wrote of you, that her husband had found you upon the borders of this land, near death, and had taken you to their home in the hills to the south to recover."
Keren's breath hitched in her throat. "I told them not to send word. I knew you'd punish me for accepting help. I don't understand why she - "
"Oh, that is no longer my concern," he said shortly. "Imagine how my son felt when he read this:
'One thing I feel I must say, though I know not where to begin.' He read clearly, loudly. 'You may or may not know that, before either you or I met them, my husband and your betrothed were very close. Both have spoken openly of their love for each other to me in the past. I am sure she has told you of it, for she is not one for keeping secrets.' Thranduil raised his eyebrows as he met her eyes before going on. 'But I have watched them these past weeks as she recovered, and, forgive me for bearing this news, I still see the old love between them, and it is growing apace. Believe me, I would not say this if I was not certain. And there is more.' A quick look up at her again. 'I cannot bear another child, something that both Faramir and I long for. Keren has told me of her desire for a child of her own,' - "I see I must have missed something when we spoke before," Thranduil said to her, archly, as she felt herself sink back into the tree, letting it prop her up - 'and how it is something you feel you cannot risk. I am not one to wallow in grief. Rather, I look for solutions. I see a chance for two people I love to be happy, though it breaks my own heart. If this is the way their hearts are guiding them it would cause more pain for all concerned if I were to stand in their way, especially if this way brings a much longed for child for each of them into the world. But I must not forget, of course, that it is not just I that will feel the affect of this rekindled love between them. So I felt it my duty to tell you, to warn you, and I leave it to you to decide if you wish to fight for her. My fighting days are over.'
Heaviness filled the glade, the chirping birdsong at odds with the nausea Keren felt. How had Éowyn got it so very, very wrong? She could not decide whether to feel anger or pity, the strongest pity she had ever felt. Éowyn had betrayed her, though there was nothing to betray. But she had done it thinking she was giving Keren a chance to be with Faramir, to have the child she desired. Her letter was an act both selfish and unselfish, and Keren knew not what to make of it.
And Legolas must have believed it all.
"It - it's not true," she managed to say. "I swear, she's misunderstood. I love Legolas, with all my being I love him. How can you doubt it after all I've done to get here, to be with him? Why would I come here at all if I didn't - "
"It means 'sail away', you know," he said, almost off-hand.
For a second Keren was confused, but then, all too heavily, realisation hit her. He had played the card that would hurt her the most, whilst she was caught off guard, weak from the revelations of the letter.
"Oh. No," was all she could manage, the tiniest of whispers. Finally the answer.
"Ciraen. Sail away. Since Legolas learnt your true name he has feared you. You, the love of his life, turning out to be a cruel reminder of the fate that awaited him. It has always been his fate to sail away from Middle-earth, but only in recent years did he feel the call, only since his time at Pelargir." She knew all this, but Thranduil was saying it to hurt her, she knew. After hearing the contents of that letter she could, for the first time, understand why he wished to. "When he met you shortly after, when he fell in love with you, he told me he'd thought perhaps it would disappear, the urge to escape these shores. But it did not. So you became the reason he stayed, the reason for the colony here, the reason for everything he did. He said he would not sail until you were dead, however loud the call became in his heart. The power of your love was stronger than that of the sea, he said."
Thranduil laughed once, bitterly. Keren felt powerless again. Always, always he took power from her. She could say or do nothing as he continued.
"But then, not too long ago, his thoughts began to change. Perhaps, he said, there was something strange at work, perhaps you were to be the one who sailed, perhaps you would set sail together. How wondrous that would have been, for a mortal. I admit, with the crystal and the prophecies and all the other complications you brought, I started believing it myself. But now… How wrong we both were. The race of men is weak, their hearts fickle, their lusts strong. I warned him. And I was proved right. You were nothing but a premonition of his lonely journey after all. With your love lost, there is nothing for him here. Even now he is on the river, speeding south, preparing to sail West. You have cost him his happiness, and you have cost me my son. I hope your steward is worth it."
The sneer Thranduil put into his voice fired Keren's anger into being.
"I thought elves were wise?" she said suddenly, causing Thranduil to raise an eyebrow. "Why would I leave Faramir's house if I was in love with him? Why would I still honour your challenge, to meet Legolas here? And you didn't think to stop him? You didn't think to find out if there was perhaps more to it than one person's hastily written letter? Éowyn was seeing what she feared, not what was true."
"You expect me to believe you?"
"Yes." She raised her voice. "I do. Here." She reached into the pouch at her side and drew forth Tinùnil. "This is what I kept hidden from you before. This is what we spoke of but I feared to show you. This is Tinúnil, crafted by Fëanor before even you were born." She could not resist the barb at his great age. "Whether by his magic or its own, it speaks with the voice of Elbereth, your beloved Queen of the stars. That is who has guided me, protected me, helped me on my way. That is who wants Legolas and I to be together, for what purpose I know not. She knows I speak truth, and I ask her to show you this truth now!"
She wielded the crystal as if it was a weapon, thrusting it into his hands, hoping beyond anything that he would hear the voice, see a vision, anything.
But the glade remained still and silent save for Keren's rapid breathing, and Thranduil just stood and stared down at the crystal in his hands. He chuckled. Then laughed. He was laughing at her.
Rage returned, rage and hatred that she had only ever felt for the orc that had brought down Hrafn. She would kill him. She would kill him for all he had put her through, she would stop the cruel laughter in his throat.
But she had no weapons, not any more. Her bare hands, then. She ran at him.
"Stop," he commanded. "Stop." He grabbed her arm firmly, and she had nowhere to run, no sword to swing. She twisted and sobbed.
"I believe you," he said simply. "I believe you."
That gave her pause, and she looked up at him, still angry, unable to trust him.
"I laugh because I feel joy. I saw your future, there in the crystal. I saw a child. A child with silver hair, and pointed ears, and grey eyes. Its small hand was in yours. I heard - "
She saw the wonder in his eyes, and something else, a kind of grief, and their grip became one of closeness rather than fighting.
"I heard my beloved's voice, from wherever her fëa has flown to. She said to trust you. I believe you."
Keren let out another sob, this one of relief.
"Help me, then," she whispered.
"Long have I suspected the Valar had a part to play," he said, still shaken. "But the letter… I admit my prejudice as well as her words led me to believe you had forsaken my son. But I - "
"Yes, I know." She had no time for his flowery explanations and apologies. "But I can't lose him, I can't. You have to help me, we have to stop him sailing. It might already be too late."
"He set out from here the day the letter came, he has been gone almost a week. I cannot imagine he is not already at the shore. If the future I saw is to come to pass, it is out of our hands. He must look out for guidance of his own, I am sorry."
Legolas travelled alone. He had had some delay in Pelargir, that fated place, for he had tried to buy a ship fit for his long journey, but the sailors and merchants of the town would only rent, and all he spoke to knew the Eldar did not return. He thought perhaps if he waited long enough more of his people would pass through, and he could find passage on one of their ships. But four days passed, and no elves were to be seen beginning their final journey.
Late one night he attempted the harbour once more before giving up and moving on to try his luck in the smaller towns further down the river. There he had seen an old boat, listing slightly in the shallow water. The owner had taken one look at him, known he had enough riches to buy, and sold it on sight, for he was moving up in the world and wanted to be rid of such a humble, worn-out craft. Legolas gave one of his knives as payment. He would not need it where he was going.
Now he was sailing down the Anduin delta in his new, old, ship, and it was not how he had imagined this journey. In his mind he saw a large, proud vessel, one designed and built by his own hands, with time and love poured into it. Not some second-hand galley for sale at the dock. But then he had never imagined he would leave Keren, leave to sail West while she still lived.
All along, all along her name had warned him. He had been foolish to allow himself to be so taken in by the bond between them. He should have known that such a thing could not last - that she would choose one of her own kind, one she could grow old with, one she could have a child with, one that she would not leave behind. Perhaps she felt she was doing him a kindness, in choosing her old love over him. It meant he could answer the call to sail West sooner after all.
So why was he in such pain? Why was every league he drew closer to the shore more of a struggle? There was nothing for him here, not now. Keren had defied all odds to complete her journey, but at the end of it had been Faramir, not him. Faramir had found her, Faramir had been her prize at the end. Perhaps it was always supposed to have been that way.
He could not find much rest. The quicker the journey, the sooner the pain would lessen, for Valinor would heal his heart. He could forget the pain, despite still wearing the silver ring upon his finger. He would wear it in the western lands for as long as he endured. Though she had chosen another, they were still bound, and he would love her all his life.
He wondered if anyone would be there to greet him, if he would know anyone that lingered close to the shore. Mithrandir, perhaps. That would be a comfort, to see him. Would the Lady Galadriel hold to her word and be there too?
Galadriel.
It was always Galadriel. Her rings, her gown, her tunic, her crystal, her words of doom.
Legolas, Greenleaf, long under tree in joy thou hast lived. Beware of the sea. If thou hearest the cry of the gull on the shore, thy heart shall then rest in the forest no more.
It had all come true. All her gifts, all her words, had shaped his future, Keren's future. And now the sea was in his sights, the only thing between him and his new life. A life without Keren.
His heart shall not rest in the forest… His heart was with Keren now, always. So no, it would not rest, would not be at peace, all the while she lived and loved another, and he remained in the same world as she - his old world, of forests and trees and leaves, of roots and acorns and moss. A new world was calling, the sea was calling.
Sail away. Sail away.
"This is your home, Keren, if you wish it to be," Thranduil said to her.
She had not been able to think, to do anything, other than wait for Legolas to appear. The elves had fed her, given her shelter in a newly-built talan overnight, but she had turned down offers of being shown the whole settlement, for it was Legolas's design, his idea of a future they had been building, and it was a future he was not in anymore.
She should probably just go home. Home to Minas Tirith, where she could fade into obscurity again, forget all of this had ever happened. The healers might take her back, even now. Or she could find work somewhere else, stay with Palen for a while perhaps, if she would have her, if she hadn't also disowned her by now, like her father had. So much lost, so much sacrificed, for a love that was doomed to fail anyway. The thought of calling Ithilien home without Legolas in it was wrong and strange to her. And yet she couldn't find it in herself to leave.
"I might stay a few weeks, just in case," she managed to say to Thranduil, who had begun to look upon her with real pity, something she found hard to stomach. For all his words, for all he believed in her innocence, she still could not forget that this was the person who had sent her to face death. He had spouted all sorts about his reasons - the Valar, his son, his wife, her own soul, but the fact remained that he had not ever tried to dissuade her. What made matters worse was him telling her the real challenge had just been to see if she would accept, that the only reason he let her go through with it was because deep down she wanted to, needed to. She could not fathom his logic, and it would be a long while before he earned a place in her heart. Still she had to admit he was improved of late, ever since his vision, and showed her great kindness. But the pity, the pity she could not stand.
She had started composing letters, many of them, in her attempt to process all she felt. Letters to Legolas. Letters to Faramir, to Éowyn. Letters to Palen, to Pippin, to Haldir. Letters to Galadriel, to Arwen. Letters to her father. Letters to Hrafn, to her mother. She would never send any of them. Once she had written them she read them through then burned them. Then she would write some more. Thranduil watched her with concern. He wished to leave, to return to the safe shadows of his home, deep in another forest far from here. But here she was, the young woman he had pushed to her limits, sure she would not break, breaking before his eyes.
"You know," he began, haltingly. She looked up at him with tired eyes. "You know there are many futures. What I saw was only what could come to pass. That it was ever a possibility at all is still wondrous to me. But I would not think badly of you, for wanting to make the best of things now. If truly this man could make you happy in Legolas's place - "
She turned her head away.
"Hear me out," he said quickly. "You do not need anyone to shield you, or fight your battles for you, you have proved that. I am not talking of replacing my son to fill a void. But if Faramir… if there is still some semblance of love in your heart, in his, then you need not be alone."
Keren shook her head.
"I wouldn't do that to Éowyn. I know, deep down, they love each other. It's all a mess. I just… got in the way. And besides, it's not Faramir that would make me happy. My happiness is sailing away, to where I can never reach it again."
Her voice cracked then disappeared altogether in her grief. Thranduil was silent a little while, then dared to say what had long been on his mind.
"Faramir. It is a curious name for these times. Much like my son's, it is old, older than the memory of men. Do you know it's meaning?" He watched as she shook her head minutely. "I always thought it odd, that your name begs one to sail, yet his name tempts one back to the land."
That caught Keren's attention, and she met his gaze, curious yet wary.
"Shore treasure. That's what it means, in its simplest form. The treasure of the shore. My son follows the call of the waves. But Faramir, he will always be here, part of the land. So you must ask yourself, do you choose to be true to the love you have lost to the sea, faithful but alone, or do you go back to the one who always waits upon the shore, who could bring you some happiness?"
Keren shuddered, Thranduil's words too much like her dreams. She wasn't entirely sure they were Thranduil's own words at all. Always, always in her dreams she had been out on the waves, knowing she should be somewhere else, and always Faramir was waiting at the shoreline, calling her back. But it was too late for happiness now, it was too late.
"I will always choose Legolas, and be grateful for the time that we had," she replied, and Thranduil knew then that was no hope for her, and left her to her letters.
Legolas, she wrote. Go with my blessing, follow your heart. Fly with all speed to where you belong.
She read it over and over. The writing was a little shaky, and splotched with tears, but this was the letter she held the longest before she burned it. And when the time came she held it long over the flames, watching the edges curl and crisp before glowing red, then falling away. Once it was ash she watched as the fire sent up small, glittering pieces of flame into the night sky.
Let the stars take them, she thought. Let them guide him on his way.
Four days passed. Keren toyed with the idea of writing messages she would actually send - to Palen, saying she was safe, to Éowyn saying… What could she even begin to say?
She tried to relax, to just be grateful she had survived it all. She took walks in the forest, bathed in the pools and springs, ate the plentiful food the elves gave her. She listened as they sang, watched as they built, tried to smile when they spoke to her with grief in their eyes.
She would not leave, not yet. She had to have some hope. Perhaps when summer gave way to falling leaves and chill winds, then she would go to the city. Or perhaps she would embark on another long journey, one without death and despair at its end - perhaps she would go all the way to the land of the hobbits, where she knew she would be welcomed and treated as a friend, where she could live out her days in peace. Around the mountains, under the mountains, over the mountains, she could get there whichever way she chose. And she would do it for herself, not for anyone else.
But for now she could make herself useful. She asked for clothes of elvish make once more, designed for work and ease of movement, unlike the long, heavy gowns she had found herself wearing at Emyn Arnen, and took up some tools. She would help them build. She would help make Legolas's dream a reality, even though there was no place for her there anymore.
On the sixth day since her arrival she was accustomed to the layout of the site, and had taken to marching around quite productively, hammer in hand. There were no other tools of men though. Instead of nails there were wooden pegs, and there were no saws, but blades as thin as a whisper. All that was cleared was re-used, with branches becoming parts of the dwellings, all being built around nature rather than through it, or on it.
The tallest trees were deeper into the forest, near to Henneth Annûn. She could not bring herself to go there just yet, for it was filled with the memory of Legolas, more than anywhere, so she often found herself alone or with just one other, working on a more humble talan close to the ground, and today was no different.
The day was warm, but with a fresh breeze that rattled the leaves ahead. She was within a mile walk of the oak glade and the river, and yet she could find no joy in her surroundings. She concentrated on her task to distract herself. She wanted to start the railings today, for this talan, she had decided, was to have railings, which anyone sensible, or not an elf, would install. Any guests unaccustomed to living in trees in the centuries to come would appreciate her work, she was sure. She was only a couple of branches up, but after her experience with the boar she had learnt that was far enough to fall.
She sat, legs dangling over the edge, as she smoothed and shaped the branches, trying not to think of anything. Her bag of wooden pegs lay beside her, and she scrabbled with one hand to grab one, the other arm propping up the piece of wood. One peg wobbled between her fingers, then spun and rolled off the edge of the platform.
She tutted, before reaching for another.
"It's alright, I caught it," a voice said from below. A voice that sounded like… But it couldn't be.
She peered over the edge despite herself.
"You could come down and get it," said Legolas, looking up at her, holding the peg between his fingers. "Or shall I come up?"
Once the shock had worn off, and she was able to register that he was actually there - that it was really him climbing the tree in his hurry to be in her arms, that he had not sailed after all - once they had embraced, held each other so tightly, kissed each other so much that their tears merged as they trickled down their cheeks, she asked him what had changed his mind.
"I heard you again," he said, as they sat together by the willows beside the river. "The clearest I ever have."
"Again?" She wondered.
"I heard you, I saw you, on your journey. Twice. Once in a forest, running from some unseen foe, and another upon a bare hilltop, facing orcs and men. I could do nothing but yell back in my mind, hoping you heard."
She felt tears of awe, of happiness, of many things, spring in her eyes.
"I did," she whispered. "I heard you."
"I'd reached the shore," he went on, and Keren shivered as she heard that word, "but I was scared to go further, though I knew I must. And then I heard your voice on the air, not just in my heart, but in the air. It said to follow my heart, to fly with all speed to where I belong. I knew there must be a reason I'd heard you say those words. And I - I couldn't, I found I wasn't ready to believe that I belonged anywhere other than with you, not while you still lived. Éowyn asked in her letter if I wished to fight for you, and I did. I did. So I obeyed your voice, and I flew, first with the wind in the sails to help me upriver, then, when the wind dropped and my ship failed against the tide, I abandoned it and ran."
"You ran?"
"All the way to Emyn Arnen. Three days and nights without rest."
"You went to Faramir's house?" Her heart leapt up into her throat.
He nodded. "That's where I assumed you would be, after receiving that letter. But he… He is a good man, Keren."
"I know. Did you… You didn't fight?"
He shook his head.
"Éowyn went pale as the moon when she saw me at their door. Faramir hadn't even known she'd written the letter, it was an uncomfortable hour for all of us. But all was eventually explained. I'm sorry I ever doubted you, though I always understood, and never felt bitterness towards you, not for a moment. It would perhaps have been sensible to choose him when all is said and done."
She hastily grabbed his hand. "Never. I never chose him, never would choose him, ever. It's been almost a year, Legolas, a year, apart. And I've spent that whole year trying to get to you, thinking of you, longing for you."
"Hush, my love," he stroked her hair, and just hearing those words from his lips caused her to weep again with relief, with happiness. "We're together now, nothing can ever part us again, not while we both live. And I thank the Valar for it."
But Keren felt anxious. "So you know," she said quietly. "You know what I said, about a child."
"Both Éowyn and my father spoke of it," he replied. She knew there was more to come. "If that is indeed the future my father saw, if he saw it come to pass, then perhaps there is no need for me to be fearful after all."
Hope leapt in her heart. "I don't mean now, right this instant, that I want one. But sometime in the future, just before I get too old to…"
But she didn't want to spoil the joy of just being together again with talk of their future. That would come now, and that was enough.
"Well anyway, one thing at a time," she said, smiling. She lay against his shoulder, watching the river go by. "I'm so happy," she said, a simple phrase, but one that made all of her trials worth it. Almost all. There was one…
"Someone died to help me get to you," she heard herself say quietly. "A friend I made on the road. His name was Hrafn."
And Legolas, knowing she had many stories to tell, some that would be hard in the telling, kissed her brow and said: "Then ever do I owe him a debt I cannot now repay."
A fair day dawned, the last day of the elvish autumn, just before the leaves turned golden. The forests of Ithilien were heavy with life, the trees laden with dark leaves, the forest floor green with grass and moss. In a clearing near the edge of the forest at Cormallen, there stood an old oak tree. He had witnessed many things in his long life, but none warmed his bark like the one he witnessed now. The two lovers - and he had known they were lovers from the first time they both set foot upon his old roots, though they knew it not - who had met beneath his branches under a pale moon, who had talked of sorrow and the sea, were to be wed. They had chosen his glade to welcome their friends to share in their joy. There were men of Rohan and Gondor, elves of north and south, and dwarves, there were the folk who could change their skin, and the wild men of the woods. Such a gathering of all peoples had never been seen in Middle-earth, nor ever would be seen again. It was a day of sunlight and all good things.
As was the elvish custom, they had all gathered for a feast before any official ceremony. Music was played, all danced and made merry. Healer danced with King, dwarf danced with wildman, bear-woman danced with elf. Then, as the sun began to set, hand in hand Legolas and Keren walked to the oak tree and stood before all in the glade.
They looked around at all the folk who had helped them get to this pass. Keren smiled, for there was Beregond, and Orel, and Bergil and Borlas. There was - she could not contain her happiness - Haldir, and Rúmil and Orophin, and they had brought old Léofric to her again, who stood beside Arod, and a more mismatched pair of horses there never was. There was her King, Elessar, and his Evenstar, alongside King Éomer and Prince Imrahil, with their wives. There was Gimli with a host of dwarves, though none so dewy-eyed as he. There was Ioreth, and the Warden. There was Negeneth, and Nestoril and Elior. There was Yrsa, as wild as ever, with her new husband, Arlan of the wildwood. There were - and she was so touched they had come - Hlíf and Katla, still in the mourning garb of their people. And, perhaps most surprising to her of all, there was her father, looking slightly awkward, but there, he was there, beside Dannor, and little Dan, and Palen, her belly round with another child. Many elves there were also that she did not know, friends of Legolas, clad in green and brown.
Some were not there, however. Pippin's beaming smile she missed the most - Aragorn had promised to bring the joyous tidings to the hobbits next time he journeyed to his new kingdom in the north. Haldir had told her that Galadriel had sailed West, the ban of the Valar lifted. She felt some grief at that, but was in a way relieved that the Lady had perhaps, at last, left her to live her life as she chose. Katla had looked her straight in the eye - there was forgiveness there, but much pain also, for Hrafn had followed her, and Hrafn had never returned. And then there was the empty space amongst her family. She thought of her mother's statue in Lothlórien, and hoped the sun shone upon it today.
She had received a letter from Faramir, wishing her joy. Éowyn, he said, was most sorry, and thankful that all had been made right in the end. They had grown closer again, he had written, Éowyn's drastic actions forcing them to either break or become stronger together in their pain. They had chosen the latter, the White Lady not giving up fighting after all. Keren had smiled as she read it, and knew it would be the last letter she received from Emyn Arnen, the last time she would hear from them at all. The ghosts had faded away.
Thranduil stepped forward, beside Keren. She had capitulated and allowed him at the wedding, once she learned her own father had vowed to forget his ancient prejudices to attend, after hearing from Palen all his youngest daughter had done to win Legolas's hand. Nevertheless, things were more than a little chilly, and her family kept themselves to themselves for the most part, for Thranduil had, after all, sent her off on the journey in the first place. There had been a truly terrifying moment when Maleron had actually shaken Haldir's proffered hand, unaware of who he was. Haldir had known though, and Keren watched, his dear face a perfect mask of politeness, hiding the bittersweet grief in his heart. Keren's heart had been in her mouth, but secretly she felt relieved that they had finally met, that that part of her mother's story could end peacefully.
Thranduil began to sing softly, a call to Manwë and the one god who ruled over even the Valar, dignified and beautiful, though Keren almost chuckled, hearing their lore names for the first time in public. Another tradition they had had to honour, choosing a new name for each other that was to be announced loudly, embarrassingly, to all who attended. They had chosen with meaning though, Trevedril for her - the traveller - and Barhador for Legolas - the steadfast home. Despite the laughter bubbling up in her throat she could not deny that they had chosen well.
And then came the moment all had been waiting for. It was the mother of the bride's duty to step forth and sing the call to Elbereth, but all knew that could not be. Instead Palen came forward calmly, though Keren could see the shaking of her hands. With only a slight quaver in her voice, Palen, daughter of Maleron, became the first daughter of men to call upon Elbereth and Eru at an elven marriage, and for many centuries after both men and elves would say how she conducted herself with honour.
Nai Varda Tintalle, she sang, hlaruva ellor Trevedrilva ar Barhadorva, ar nai Eru Ilúvatar alyuva tet.
Keren watched her sister proudly. When but a child herself she had protected her, watched over her, always wanted the best for her. Truly she had had another mother, of sorts.
The silver bands she and Legolas had worn upon their fingers were removed and exchanged again, hung upon chains around their necks, and on their fingers were placed instead matching golden rings, simple and shining. Then to many shouts and cheers, and with her patience for tradition finally being thrown aside, Keren flung her arms around Legolas and kissed him with joy. Tonight, away from all prying eyes, they would truly be wed, at last, at last. She was deliriously happy.
She was home.
I didn't just meet an elf, mother, she thought. I married him. I hope, wherever you are, you know that.
Author note: *Grabs tissue, dabs gently at eyes.* Not the end of the story, repeat, NOT THE END OF THE STORY! I cannot tell you the absolute joy I felt writing this, I actually feel like I've been to the wedding of two very close friends! Keren has been with me in some form for ten years, I just didn't know what to do with her in my terrible, short-lived, attempts at writing a novel. She finally fell into this story (my first ever fan-fic, still my only fan-fic LOL IT'S SO LONG) in 2016, and now in 2020 she's finally done the dos I wanted her to do. I reckon I really will finish this tale before the year is out :( A huge thanks to the Real Elvish website, which lays out incredibly clearly exactly how an elvish wedding ceremony goes down, along with detailed name and phrase lists, which I've used in the past. Next time, the actual technical marriage (nudge, wink, blush) which will, I guarantee, take me a hundred rewrites and I will still cringe when I post. Much love!
