Author note: Well here it is, the chapter I was terrified of. *Stuff* happens and it is SO HARD to write without either bursting out laughing or wincing internally. However much I want to write *certain words* and go super-smut I just CAN'T in this story, I physically can't do it, the tone is just not that at all. But it's still, ya know, a teeny bit lemony. Maybe my next project can be pure filth?!

(I'm actually terrified of the whole of the rest of the book as the end is so close and I feel I can't put a foot wrong - all of my ancient plot notes are soon to be smushed together into what's hopefully a satisfying conclusion). My plan is to finish in the next few weeks, posting a chapter each week or fortnight. There are three left after this one, so that means the very final chapter should be out just before Christmas or New Year, a nice holiday present to those of you who have followed the story since the start and have clung on to the bitter end!

New readers Ambray and o whimsical: O W thanks so much for all of your reviews as you read through the story, please keep them coming. I'm glad I'm not the only one that calls Keren 'Keren babes' when she's being particularly slow. Sometimes I feel incredibly patronising towards my own OC lol. Ambray I'm sorry (but also kind of thrilled) that it kept you reading until 4am! Glad you're now up to date.

And then the many reviews from names I recognised, those of you who've been reviewing for months or even YEARS, seeing your reactions to the last chapter was overwhelming, seriously. In this last month of writing I've decided to make the time to reply to every review I get on these last chapters. I really want you all to know how much your comments mean to me, how much it means to know people have even read any of it, let alone four years worth of my - at times terrible - writing.

I cried AGAIN in parts of this chapter - safe to say I think it's gonna be permanent blubbing now until the end, and probably beyond.


Chapter Fifteen - The crystal crown

The sun was set, and all the guests had gone to their beds. Keren and Legolas remained in the glade, sitting in the oak tree. Both their feet were bare, and Legolas was singing softly, the lay of Beren and Lúthien. There could have been no-one else in the world. Gently his finger would brush through her hair or across her cheek, linger on her neck, her collarbone, the promise of what was to come later. But for now they were content to just sit in the moonlight, listening to the sounds of the forest at night, talking quietly together, in the place they had both held in their hearts with hope this long, lonely year.

"Do you remember, in the caves," Keren said, once he had finished singing, "the pool of stars?"

"How I longed to tell you everything, then," Legolas replied. "And it wasn't the first time I almost did, nor the last."

"Maybe it really was Lúthien we saw in the water," she said distantly, her mind back there. "Was this really hers, do you think?" Her fingers stroked the silver ring that hung around his neck.

"According to my father, according to Galadriel. But, my love, it's yours now, so does it really matter? You've earned it - it was with you through all your trials. And it will lie here next to my heart forever."

"Forever," she whispered. Sometimes she would almost forget, in moments like this, when he was so close, so real, so human, that he was not human at all, that he would outlive her, that he had outlived her ancestors for a hundred generations or more.

"I waited so long, for you," he said, and she smiled, his uncanny ability to perhaps read her mind reminding her of many moments passed, moments where she had had no idea what it was he had felt for her. "I thought perhaps you were out there somewhere, but the years went by, decades, centuries. Almost an entire Age. And I admit, I gave up hope. And then you appeared, with your bloodstained hands and your weary face. And I liked you. A healer, giving over your life to saving others. A healer with a secret, it turned out."

He looked knowingly at her forehead, and smiled, for upon it sat Tinúnil, shining upon her brow, now set in a band of entwining gold and silver wrought as leaves and stars. A gift from Thranduil.

"Then we met again," he went on, "at this very tree. And I liked you more. And I kept seeing you after that, though not to speak to, and I found each time I was happier than the last at the sight of your face. And then…"

"And then the night on the balcony happened, and you had to wait for me," she said.

And they chuckled together, but then fell silent as the memories floated in.

"Can you believe almost four years have passed since the night we met, when the sky was red, and I thought the world was ending?" Keren asked quietly, then thought it was a foolish question, for four years to him was a turn of his head, a shrug of his shoulder.

"Well, the world as we knew it was," he offered. "Now we have many years together. Some will speed and some will linger, but every one will be a joy."

She smiled. "Ithilien feels like home already."

"My father wishes for it to be a Kingdom. Our Kingdom," Legolas said.

"Of course he does," Keren said, with a frustrated sigh. "But I'm not a queen, Legolas, nor do I wish to be."

"There are no rulers here, not in these woods," he said, and his fingers began their idle dance upon the back of her neck again. "My King, our King, is Aragorn. We are custodians of this land only - we care for it, on his behalf. But he knows that the true lords of this forest are the trees themselves. Aren't you, old friend?" He knocked on the oak's gnarled bark. "No, we will not set up a court here. When people come, whether for a few days or forever, be they elves or men… or Gimli…" - they laughed, fondly - "they will be our equals, no-one above or below. We help them build their homes, we sing the same songs, we dream the same dreams, of peace."

The moon rose higher in the sky as they sat in silence, thinking, remembering, dreaming. Soon it was close to midnight.

"Do you remember my promise to you at Henneth Annûn?" Legolas said softly, and now his hand moved her hair off her shoulder, and she felt his breath upon her bare skin as his lips drew close to her collarbone.

She felt her heart flutter. "I've not been able to think of much else these past weeks," she said, her voice already a little shaky as she felt his soft kiss just below her neck. "But remind me," she added, feeling mischievous, and was rewarded by another gentle breath against her skin as he laughed softly.

"Well, we'll swim in the pool," he said, placing another kiss upon her neck, "and I'll kiss you," another brush of his lips, slightly lower, "everywhere," lower still, "before the falling water, and then, when we can't wait any longer, we'll pass through the waterfall," another kiss grazed the neckline of her wedding gown, "and you will be my wife." This time he surprised her by kissing her lips, possessive and hungry. "Several times over," he added for good measure, before pulling away again. "All before the sun rises." And the smile and the wanton look in his eye was almost enough for Keren to want to physically drag him from the branch they sat upon to get to the forest floor - Henneth Annûn was far too far away. But the thought of the waterfall, and the cave, and his promises, kept her under control.

"Can we go now?" she said quickly. "Is Arod… Do we have to walk - ?"

"Arod is patiently waiting, and he's also laden with enough food and water and wine to last a night and a day, so we can stay for the sunset through the falls tomorrow, and you won't go hungry."

She grinned. "And this is why I love you."

Well," he raised an eyebrow, "I thought you'd need your strength."


Arod bore them most of the way, and Keren could not think of anything other than the feeling of Legolas sat behind her, how sometimes his hand would linger on her thigh, how she could feel the tension in his body, as excited and nervous as she. They walked the final mile, leaving Arod grazing in a glade, as the ground grew too steep and densely wooded. Hand in hand they climbed, Keren a little breathless both with exertion and with anticipation. The sound of rushing water grew louder and louder, until suddenly they broke the top of the hill and Keren saw they were on a wide shelf of rock beside the fast flowing river that dived over the cliff into the pool below.

She followed the water as it flowed east to west, tumbling over and over several steps and running down a smooth, narrow gulley before flowing over the edge. In the west she could see the tip of old Mindolluin, always snow-tipped, lit by the moon. Beneath, hidden from view, lay the city where she was born.

"It feels so far away, though I know it's not," she said thoughtfully. "Perhaps because it's so far from who I am now. It's hard to believe - it was all I knew, for so many years, and I was scared to leave it."

"There'll always be a place for you there, if you ever wanted to go home," Legolas said, standing behind her, gentle hands upon her shoulders.

But she turned in his arms, turned away from the White City, and the mountains of Gondor, to face him. "You're my home. And I love you. But it - it still doesn't feel real, doesn't feel safe to me. I can't believe we're actually here - that the celebrations are done and we're about to be married. I keep thinking, 'what if I'm just in a dream', and I'm actually asleep somewhere on the road, with all the worst of the journey still before me. I'm frightened of that feeling, I'm frightened my mind can do that, convince me that this can't be real. I'm - I'm not who I was, I'm not the person that set out from your father's halls anymore, but that doesn't always mean that I'm stronger. I keep thinking something bad will happen, something will take us away from each other again. Once we're properly wed though, nothing can come between us, for we'll have power over anyone or anything that tries, because we'd be one, we'd be us, together, the only time the world has seen it. And that has power. Does that… I'm talking too much. But does that sound foolish?"

His beautiful face held many emotions at once.

"There's nothing of the fool in you," he said. "But trust me, my love, your trials are over, we are here, and we will be wed, and whilst I can't promise that nothing bad will ever happen to us again, I can promise I will be by your side, through everything. That's something they won't be able to take away from us, not after tonight. And we're only here because of you, because of what you managed to do. And I am proud, and I am humbled, that very soon I will get to call you wife."

She stood upon her toes, her bare feet cold on the rocky shelf, and kissed him. She was safe, with her wild elf of the woods. And the new, wild, part of her rose up to meet him.

"Shall we jump in?" she said with a grin.

Legolas looked at her as if she'd grown an extra head for a moment, but then laughed aloud.

"Of course you don't know," he said. "My love, this was all crafted by the hands of men many years ago, it's not a natural water course, it's an old defence system. There are rocks sharp as knives beneath the surface of that pool. You jump in from up here and you'll be sliced to ribbons."

Legolas laughed again at the look on her face.

"Come on, wild one." He took her hand, and together they - carefully - followed the path downwards.

They stopped to drop their packs in the cave, and Legolas, a knowing look in his eye, lay soft, warm furs upon the stony floor, and Keren's heart leapt into her throat. But he pulled her away, and her stomach flipped as she heard, she felt, him say, "not yet," close behind her, his voice vibrating through her body. They skirted the edge of the falls until there before them, a little further down, was the pool. They stopped where they had before long ago, against the rock, and Keren had a strange thought - that she longed to go back in time to that spring when they were last here together, and tell them both that everything would be alright in the end, that they would make it back there, and get to do all the things they longed to do then.

Still dressed in their finery from the celebrations, she in dark blue velvet, he in silver silk, they turned to face each other.

"I need - " Keren tried to speak, but all that came out was a croak. Both smiled, remembering the willow tree under a fiery sky, when she could not even say her own name. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I need help getting out of…" She gestured to the gown. "…laced at the back." Suddenly her throat was dry and her hands were shaking. She couldn't even form proper sentences. "…don't know why I'm so nervous," she whispered.

But he took her shaking hands, and she was both reassured and a little thrilled to feel that his were not entirely steady either, and placed them upon his heart, which was beating very fast.

"Though I know there is nothing to fear, see my heart races also," he said quietly, and then kissed her, very softly. Gently one of his hands left hers and found its way to her hair, now long and healthy again, and he laced it through his fingers. She shivered as she felt them graze the back of her neck, and found herself deepening the kiss, leaning into him against the rock.

But he soon turned her within his arms, sweeping her hair aside, seeing to the laces across her back, and with every loosening of the gown he would set down another trail of kisses upon her neck, her bare shoulders. Impatient, she shed the rest of the gown from her like a second skin and turned to face him again, taking his face in her hands and pulling him towards her for the most possessive kiss she had ever granted him, all her nerves gone. She all but ripped the clothes from him, and both laughed breathlessly whilst kicking all their garments aside, before stillness came upon them, and they stood together, breathing hard, and drank each other in with their eyes.

"You're so beautiful," Keren said, her voice still shaking, though from something else, very different from nerves, now.

Legolas looked at Keren standing naked before him. Long had the image of her beside another pool, far away, haunted his mind, but now there were subtle changes from what he remembered. She held herself differently, that was all it was, he realised - she stood taller, prouder. But there, across her belly, was a long scar that stretched from rib to abdomen. He frowned with shock and concern, and stepped forward, to touch it, to stroke his fingers across it.

"Don't," she said quickly, quietly. "Please don't, I hate it. I didn't tell you about it, but I forgot that of course you'd see it…"

"Oh, my love," he said sadly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was all over, it - it was done. It's bad enough I carry the reminder of it on my skin, I didn't want to talk about it as well. Please let's not… Can we just pretend it's not there? Pretend none of it ever happened?"

But he knelt before her, and kissed her navel, where the scar was at its fiercest, and she found herself sobbing. There should have been no tears tonight, but the look upon Legolas's face as he rose again to meet her, to take her in his arms, was enough to let the dam break, and the tears that fell as they kissed were a final release of all the hurt, all the fear, all the loneliness.

"Every warrior has scars," he said, as he rested his head atop hers, once she had cried her fill. "The race of men, you can bear them upon your bodies. My people's scars are all in here." He gently stroked her head. "But, my love, wherever your scars are, upon your belly, or if there are some inside here too" - another caress of her brow - "know you're not alone in it, know each of us has found the person that can heal them now, even if just a little."

And she nodded, and rose up to kiss him, and soon all thoughts of tears, of scars, of hurts, were forgotten as she felt their bodies meet, naked together again after a year of longing. They walked together to the pool.

Keren's breath suddenly came in gasps, for the water was cold. But Legolas chuckled.

"I admit," he said, "I got so caught up in my imaginings of what was to happen here, I quite forgot you'd feel the cold."

She tried not to shiver, but failed. "It's not the first time I've said it," she said, "but I hate elves, I really do. 'Forgot I'd feel the cold', honestly." She rolled her eyes, trying her best to be annoyed, but Legolas did not notice, his own eyes being instead fixated on how her body was reacting to the cold. "Legolas." She attempted to sound angry, but found she was too deliriously happy to have his eyes upon her, to be here, standing in the very place he had promised she would be. His eyes snapped to hers.

"It's alright," he replied. "I'll warm you up." The roguish smile was back, along with the wicked glint in his eye, and suddenly she didn't notice that she was shivering. He took her hand, and they walked further in, until her feet left the bottom and she was instead held deliciously close to him. He stopped just short of the falls, and the beauty of the water as it fell - seen, heard and felt - shook Keren's heart.

"Wild enough for you?" Legolas raised his voice over the pouring water. Her fierce kiss in reply was answer enough for him.

Soon they were swimming, enjoying the freedom, the strange heavy lightness of their bodies in the water, twisting and flowing around each other, then coming back together - each time a little shorter apart, as if each separation was a small bereavement. The joy and desire she felt every time his skin brushed hers beneath the water, his lips met hers, was more than she thought she could bear. And yet she never wanted it to end. Or rather, she realised, there was only one thing she wanted it to end for.

"Legolas," she said, between kisses, as his hands, his lips now too, explored her body as they stood again in shallower waters. And he knew what she wanted, for he wanted it more than anything. Their eyes met, and both were still for a little while, knowing what was to come. Then they grinned and, knowing no eyes were watching, waded out of the pool and went back up the path to the cave, feet flying past the pile of clothes that lay discarded by the rock. They laughed and laughed with happiness the whole way, stopping to kiss sometimes, when the mood took them, and anyone who had happened to see them would say later they had surely stumbled upon two woodland sprites running through their home, beings of light and lust, naked and forever young, filled with the joy of nature, of life, and all happy things.

They stopped by the sheet of water, and looked through it to the cave beyond. On the other side lay their future, their union. Serious now, together their fingers intertwined and they walked through the curtain, falling as the heaviest torrent of rain upon their heads, then suddenly they were in the dry, dark cave, silent except for the steady stream of water outside, quieter now, far quieter than the tumult of the pool, and strangely distant.

Both felt as if they were in a dream, as if they had left the world behind, and it was lying waiting for them the other side of the waterfall. It would be there for them, when they were ready, but their time inside the cave would last as long as they needed it to, for the gods were watching, steady and proud. The union of mortal woman and elf male. It had come to it at last.

"I feel strange," Keren said. "For the first time I - I really feel we're in a great tale of our own. That everything has happened as it should, that we are together to do something the world has never seen."

But Legolas could not speak any longer, though he felt it too, far stronger in fact, the will of the Valar pulsing through his Elvish soul. So he just nodded, and smiled, and the strange, sad, wistfulness of it, the beauty and care, the love behind it, caused Keren's heart to physically ache with love and longing.

She stepped forward, and once more she fitted into his embrace perfectly, as she always had. She let him lie her down upon the soft furs, and this time, unlike that stolen moment in Mirkwood - that tense, anxious, desperate time when she did not even know if she would see him again - she knew he was hers now, they were each other's, and what she had longed for had been allowed to come to pass. And when their bodies met truly, when they moved together for the first time, she saw the heavens in the darkness of the cave, saw the stars of Elbereth, night unveiling itself before her eyes, as if a new world was being revealed. Peace settled in her heart, even as it soared. All was as it should be.


The moon sank in the sky, and a grey light slowly crept into the cave. Keren thought perhaps she slept for a short while, for when she next opened her eyes it was full day. Legolas was lying upon his side, head propped up on one arm. His eyes met hers with a gentle smile.

"Hello, wife," he said. "Are you happy this mor - "

Hearing that word fall from his lips did something to Keren, and he could not finish his words before she pounced.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, his words muffled as her lips met his. Neither of them got much rest that day.

Eventually Keren's stomach let her know she was hungry, for her head was not up to realising much at all. She chuckled merrily as she ate delicious morsels he brought her, polished off with sparkling Dorwinion wine, which she quaffed whilst still sat entirely naked wrapped up in the furs.

"Every day's going to be like this, yes?" she checked. "We only have to leave this place for special occasions - births, deaths, marriages and the like, you know?"

He laughed. "You'd miss the outside world after a time. The trees, and the hills, the wind, and the waters."

"How do you make everything sound so beautiful?"

"Because there is beauty, in everything, if you know where to look." He threw himself down upon the furs next to her, brushed a hand against her bare leg. "Though I don't need to look very hard to see there is much beauty in this cave."

She nodded, tucking into a delicious creation of sugar and raspberries. "I think you make up most of it," she said. "Husband," she added for good measure. "Though this cake is proving to be good competition."

He smiled, and nodded towards the front of the cave.

"How about that?" he said.

Keren gasped, the cake lying forgotten in her hand. She had forgotten how beautiful it was, Henneth Annûn itself, the Window of the Sunset, light shining through the pouring curtain of water. Only once had she seen it before, and a guard had been in the cave with them, and she had not been naked, her lust thoroughly sated, her head slightly light with fine wine, then. And even then, when her heart had been heavy with her father's abandonment, with the prospect of Thranduil's damned mysterious challenge hanging over her, the sight had been beautiful. Now it took all of her breath away, for she had nothing now to fear or fret over, and could only see the beauty before her, making her feel as if magic was not magic at all, but simply nature in the right light.

As the beams of fire hit the water they were split into many glittering rays of light, some golden, some silver, some all the colours of the rainbow, as if the cave was a living prism, the spectrum playing upon their skin, before their eyes, droplets of water sending sudden glistening hues through the air.

"That's… the third most beautiful thing I've ever seen," she said eventually.

"Third? What are the first two?"

"Well, the second was Lothlórien in autumn. The first was…" She buried down further beneath the furs, feeling a little chilly. "The first was when I saw you, beneath the willow tree in the moonlight, before I even knew your name, or who you were to me, or the roads we would take together. I just saw an elf for the first time, and he was every bit as beautiful as I'd dreamed. But don't let it go to your head," she added, taking another bite of cake.


They lived in joy.

The first year passed swiftly, for there were many changes. Their guests left, some almost immediately, like Katla and Hlíf, like Yrsa, missing their homes on this their first ever journey outside their borders. Others stayed far longer, Haldir in particular, for he, like Legolas, knew that time was fleeting when it came to spending it with Keren. They spent many days walking and talking together, and when the time came to part they could not bear to say goodbye again, so Keren awoke one morning to the news that he had gone. She did not think she would ever see him again, and hoped he gained safe passage West, whenever he chose to sail. Thranduil left for his lands in the north, once he had judged they were settled, and happy. A few elves stayed with them, but the colony was not to begin in earnest until the work on Minas Tirith was complete, which would take many years. So for the most part they spent their days in the quiet of the forest, building, exploring, and watching the world go by. Both craved peace, and time together, their reward after all the uncertainty.

Every few months they would journey to Minas Tirith to see Keren's family, and their royal friends. Legolas would work on the new gardens in the city, planted to cover the scars the siege had left behind. Beregond brought his family to visit them in Ithilien. Bergil was now of an age where he could leave his father's side and go to whichever lord he wished to serve.

There was no lord, he had said, that he would serve, but he could think of a lady. So he was sworn in as a guard of North Ithilien, and though Keren would find herself regularly repeating over the years that she was not a queen, he would treat her as such until the end of her days.

Palen gave birth to a daughter in early spring, whom they named Orwen, and when Legolas had held her, small and sleeping in his arms, Keren's eyes met his, warm with love, with hope, and he did not look away.

The year after, another birth was met with great rejoicing, for a future King had been born. Eldarion, son of King Elessar and Queen Arwen, came into the world with a shock of black hair and a hearty wail. Gimli and Legolas were named honorary protectors, and their time at the citadel increased.

A third year came, and Palen was pregnant again - "for the last time" - she assured Keren, assured herself, both knowing that it was not true. Little Dan was still little, but now five years old, keeping all entertained with his antics. Some sad news came from the Houses just after his birthday - old Ioreth had quietly retired in the autumn, and, only a few weeks later, had just as quietly died. Keren and Legolas attended the simple burial, and their appearance amongst all the healers drew far greater crowds by the end of it, so Ioreth got quite the send-off.

Work on the great gate of Minas Tirith was completed, towering doors of mithril and steel, that shone brilliantly whether by sunlight or moonlight. Gimli had engineered it all, but now the work was done the time had come for him to travel north to his new home at Aglarond, where crystals danced in the walls, and sprung out of the earth.

"You'll come and visit," he had said to them, an instruction, not a question. "And bring the child."

Keren had stopped short. "The child?"

"Well I wasn't born yesterday, was I? There'll be a child sooner rather than later, and they'll want to meet their Uncle Gimli." And he winked, gave a last hug to them both, and trudged off on his way. "Write often, princeling," he had said without turning, and Keren knew tears would be shining upon his red cheeks.

When Palen's third child was born, in the fifth year of the Fourth Age, Keren and Legolas had been married for four years. Once all the congratulations had been offered, once the baby - another girl, named for Keren this time - had been passed around and cooed over and generally admired, Legolas and Keren returned home to North Ithilien, and both were feeling a little sad, though neither wanted the other to know. Keren, however, could never hide her feelings for long.

They sat by the Anduin at Cormallen, where the willows met the riverbank, and she spoke of the thing that was always hanging over them.

"Time goes so fast, doesn't it?"

Legolas did not reply, but smiled a little sadly, and Keren knew he was thinking the same.

"My sister, a mother three times over," she said, shaking her head a little. "And yet I remember when she refused to eat beans because they were a 'funny shape' - sometimes it feels like only a few weeks ago. Mother would - " She stopped herself.

"Your mother would be proud of you both," Legolas offered.

And she smiled, and kissed him, but she didn't say the other thought, the other thing that she struggled to hold in. Not just yet.

An especially bitter winter was had that year. Legolas felt nothing but a slight chill in the air, but Ithilien, though fair, did not have the magical protection the Golden Wood boasted, and Keren struggled in the open dwellings when the snows began to fall. They decided to stay in Minas Tirith until the days grew warmer, and Aragorn invited them to stay within the King's House. And not just them, the whole brood - Maleron and Palen and Dannor and Little Dan and Orwen, and Little Keren just a few months old.

"Eldarion could do with some playmates," he had said, for his son was now two and a half, with as much energy as was to be expected from a child of Númenór, and a mind far advanced for his years, as was to be expected from a child of the Eldar.

Keren, Palen and Arwen sat together, watching Little Dan and Eldarion play, with Orwen, as fiery as her namesake once was, trying to push her way in. Palen was finally starting to feel more at ease with the illustrious company her sister kept.

"It's back," she whispered conspiratorially to Arwen, knowing full well Keren would hear.

"What's back?" Keren asked.

"That look in your eyes," her sister said shortly. "The 'my womb is aching' look. Have you talked to him yet?"

"No, not yet," she said. Her eyes flicked to Arwen, who sat impassively, her face artfully blank. "Soon, though."

"I believe you will hear the answer you crave." Arwen looked over to where Legolas and Dannor stood, Dannor keeping an eye on his youngest daughter asleep by the window. "It's all around his fëa, the love of a child that has not yet come into being."

"Yes, I feel that too," Keren agreed.

"Then why do you delay speaking of it to him?" The Queen's voice was measured and calm, curious.

"It's a strange thing," Keren replied. "Since his father told me of his vision, of the elven child with its hand in mine, you'd think I'd have no fears. I want a child so much, for myself, and for Legolas, but now it feels more real, more certain to happen, I feel more afraid. For years I thought it would be Legolas stopping me, but now it comes to it, it's me that's wary."

"What is it you fear?" Arwen asked. Palen looked concerned and listened intently.

"I don't know exactly. Palen has proved that birthing children can be as simple as breathing, but - "

"Well, I wouldn't say that," Palen interjected.

"You've born three healthy children in five years, Pal. You make it look easy, even though I'm sure it isn't. Even after Dannor when you were weakened near to death, you were up and about as if nothing had happened in a matter of days. Perhaps I'll be the same. But I think of… other women, losing their health, losing their freedom. And there's another thing. My queen, how long did you bear Eldarion before he was born?"

Arwen nodded, having guessed this was Keren's real concern.

"Well, it's difficult to say exactly, of course, but it must have been at least a year."

"Mmm, that's what I thought Legolas said it would be," Keren said absentmindedly, before she grew very focussed upon Arwen. "But do you think, as I'm not an elf, and as our child will have no other, for want of a better word, magical blood - unlike your son with his Númenórean heritage - do you think I might carry a child for the normal amount of time? Perhaps my very ordinary human blood won't expect my body to go to such lengths to bear a child that is, after all, only half-elven?"

"That is something none of us can know. You are right to be wary, for even nine months carrying a babe is not something to be taken lightly. A year or more for a human mother, that is a great ask, and one we cannot say for certain you will survive."

"Except we can," Palen said quickly. "The elf-king, he saw you, with the child. In your - in the crystal." Keren's rational older sister was still struggling with the idea of a prophetic stone sat upon her little sister's forehead, but had long accepted that strangeness followed Keren wherever she went. "We know it comes to pass, we know you survive it."

Keren looked a little reassured, but Arwen voiced what she, deep down, knew to be true.

"Visions can show us many things - things that have been, things that are, and things that might be. Never things that will be, for we cannot truly shape the future to our will, there are too many variables. Though I would say Keren, if that was what Thranduil, one of the Eldar, saw, then it is the most likely outcome. And remember, should you find yourself with child, you'll have the finest healers to tend you, your own sister included."

Palen smiled a little in thanks, but was watching her sister's drawn face with interest.

"Only you can decide in the end, Keren," she said. "We can all spout advice, and our thoughts, until we grow weary of repeating ourselves, but only you know deep down if you're willing to risk it."

Keren looked over at Legolas, and caught him looking back at her. She was sure he knew what they were discussing, and the look in his eyes was not wary, but protective, reassuring.

She was strong, both in body and mind - she had learnt that the hardest way. She would be cared for and supported at every turn. So why then, after so long, did she now feel unsure? After all, the Valar themselves were guiding her.

And then she realised.

That's why I'm fearful, she thought. After the prophecy, after the pain they put me through - I don't trust the Valar anymore.

She felt a deep shame in her heart, but it was true. So many times she had tricked herself into thinking she controlled her fate, but things had always led back to the prophecy, no matter which way she got there. She could never tell, looking back over everything, what had been her own mind, and what had been put there. Perhaps even now it still guided her life, perhaps she could never escape it. It had led her to a happy pass, now, but not without great trial. And what lay in their future? What was behind it all? Why had she been singled out, and for what purpose?

Such thoughts dogged her all the way home once the snows retreated, and when spring came she found she still had not spoken of it to Legolas. She knew he was waiting for her, for often he would look at her expectantly, but he always smiled at her when she said it was nothing.

The turning point came in May. Palen came to Ithilien with the children for Keren's twenty-ninth birthday. For almost five years the few elves who remained in the colony had built talans in the trees, and delved into some caves beside tumbling rocky streams, so that all their visitors, men, elves and dwarves, would feel at home.

They all sat now in front of one such cave, the two older children running about, laughing by the water, little Keren being held up her mother as she tentatively tried out her little legs upon the cool grass.

"What are they finding so funny?" Palen asked, twisting awkwardly to turn to see Little Dan and Orwen.

"My husband, apparently," Keren said dryly as they both watched. "Immortal, old as the hills, wiser than any grandfather, and yet sometimes… a child."

For Legolas was jumping from rock to rock across the stream, pretending to fall in then save himself just in time, sometimes with a dramatic roll or jump.

"Show-off!" Keren yelled, but she laughed as well.

"He's very good with them," Palen noted.

"Yes," Keren said shortly, not wanting to be drawn into an almost identical conversation to the one they'd had last winter. Palen got the hint.

Keren spent the rest of the day quietly watching Legolas. He made the children laugh, but he was happy too, and of course had endless energy. And he was not just entertaining - Orwen had slipped and skidded on a wet rock and tumbled into the water, shallow but cold. Screams erupted, but Legolas was there in a heartbeat, scooping her up, checking for any hurts, concern on his face. He had known just what to do, and she was not even his child. And the more Keren looked, the more Orwen's face disappeared, and an unknown child took her place in his arms. The more right it seemed.

He was made to be a father. Could she deny him that any longer? When she wanted it too?

Suddenly she gave herself a shake.

You said you'd never let fear hold you back again, she thought, never let it have control over you. All that's gone before, you did it to get to this point, to give yourself this chance, and now you're afraid? What's happened to you? Too comfortable in your happiness, that's what. The Keren who fought her way from north to south would not give up this chance.

She looked at him again, walking towards her, Orwen carried in the crook of one arm, Little Dan holding his other hand, and she knew.


That night, after Palen and the children were in bed, the elf and the healer sat in their oak tree yet again. It was where they went whenever they felt the need to talk together, be it about matters great or small, for all knew to leave them be when they headed there.

"You're so good with the children," Keren began, echoing Palen's words from before.

"So are you," he said simply, but she could hear the expectation, the anticipation in his voice.

"Do you think… perhaps?" She looked up at him, knowing she didn't really need to say anything more. It had been in both of their eyes, unspoken, for a long time.

"I think perhaps," he said softly, and took her hand.

"But…" They both spoke at the same time, then smiled.

"You first," Keren said.

Legolas sighed. "You know it's what I want - sometimes it's all I can think of. I trust in Tinúnil, for it brought us together, Elbereth herself brought us together. So I'm sure my father saw true. But I still can't face the idea of losing you, if, by any chance, something does go wrong."

Keren nodded. "Then we're of the same mind. There's little to fear, and yet… I am afraid. But I've decided that's not enough to stop me. Not enough to stop you. Is it?"

He sighed. "It's your life we're speaking of."

"But Legolas…" She wasn't quite sure how to say it gently. "You know one day you'll have to… One day I'll... I'm mortal, my love. I'm going to die. Whether old or young, in pain or in sleep, I will die. I'll die. And the worst part is… I don't fear death, but the thought of leaving you alone, the thought of you here, under this tree, without me - that haunts me, has haunted me since the day I knew I loved you. If we had a child, children, immortal as you, then you would not be alone. That's why I want to take the risk, because it would mean so much more than just my few years under the sun with them."

Legolas was very still, for a moment. They had never spoken of such things so openly since they were wed, and she saw the pain filter through his eyes, touch her heart.

"You forget, my love," he said eventually, "when I lose you, I sail, for nothing else keeps me here."

"That's not true," she said quickly. "You have this place, and it is such a place. It's yours, Legolas, not mine - you built it, you dreamed it, I just followed along and fitted in. I don't want you to give it up just because I won't be here."

"Just because?" He frowned.

"And don't forget your great friends, Gimli, Aragorn. They - "

"I want to sail, Keren, you don't understand."

"I - I do, I think. I had - have - dreams, since before we even met. Sometimes I'd see it with my waking eyes, once in Minas Tirith, once upon Cerin Amroth. I'd either be stood on the shore, or already upon the waves, and I wanted more than anything to follow the horizon, to get to the place that lay out of my sight. But… something kept calling me back to the land I knew, though my heart, my heart always wanted the waves to carry me away."

He stared at her.

"Why have you never spoken of this to me before?"

"Because I never fully understood it. But now I think I do. It's you over there, across the sea, that I want to get to. But the land won't let me, because I don't belong there. I belong on these shores, and when I die my body will lie in this land until the world ends, or changes beyond recognition. Part of your heart is already called away into the West, and doesn't belong to me. I've always known that, and you mustn't feel guilty, for that's the fate of your people. When I die, you'll be free to go to where you're truly meant to be. I do understand that. But there is much here to stay for, if you wanted to."

"But a part of me will be missing either way," Legolas said, his voice soft with grief. "You will be missing. Any time I think of that name - your true name - it reminds me of what I am to do, where I am to go, and how lonely it will be without you, no matter how much Elvenhome calls. It reminds me of what I will be leaving behind - you, buried under stone and soil, cold and dark, and dead."

"Oh, Greenleaf." Keren said, and placed her hand on his heart. "This is why you must stay beyond my passing, even if just for a little. Forge some memories without me, so that by the time you sail I'll only be that, one of a handful of memories, nothing more, nothing too heavy to carry. My body you'll leave behind, but carry the memory of my love in your heart, and you'll be able to take a part of me with you."

He bowed his head, and she hugged him tight, as always her head only to his chest. She leant against his heart, as she had the night she had realised her love - her favourite night of all - and again felt her tears dampen his chest. His arms came around her, desperate, hard.

"Can you imagine," she said softly as she held him, "if children come from our union, they can choose to sail with you, like all the half-elven have that choice, or they can choose to remain here, to continue your work, to tend my grave. I don't want to lose that chance for you. I don't want to lose them. Legolas, what if that's why we were brought together, what if that's what all this is about, our children - the first that would be born of a mortal mother and an elf father? What if they're our prophecy? What could children like that do in the world, for the world, the first of their kind?"

They looked at each other, both with faces still so young. Tinúnil still sat upon Keren's brow, as it had since their wedding day - the closest thing to a crown she felt comfortable bearing. But it set her apart nevertheless, blessed, guided by the Valar, granting her free and clear vision when she asked. But she had never asked a thing of it, not since that day with Thranduil.

Now she did. She willed it to show Legolas a future not of fear, but of hope, she willed it to show him their children.

She never knew what it was he saw as he stared at the crystal she bore, but she knew when she woke the next morning, after they had spent the night in bliss, that he had awoken the magic of his people within him, and willed a new life into being as they lay together. He had chosen hope, and she was with child.


Author note: BABY. Legolas. And. A baby. CAN'TSPEAK. BYE. x