Author note: It feels so silly to have to keep telling people this, but obviously I don't own any of Tolkien's creations, just Keren and her family.

Thanks zenstarrflower for the follow and fav :)

Thanks jshaw0624 for another kind review - you have no idea how much research I did for that conversation, I'm so glad you enjoyed it! I didn't want to do the usual first meeting thing of 'oh my god he's so hot', or rather (they are in Middle Earth after all), 'sweet Eru, but he is wondrous fair'. Although Keren would have to be blind not to notice. I also wanted to make sure I got all the facts right about Legolas' life and Elvish culture, just out of respect to Tolkien I guess. I discovered a website called realelvish which is brilliant (and funny), a work in progress but so useful for fanfic writers who want to do it properly! So yeah they're chat was mostly Keren geeking out about elves, but I hope ( I really hope) that there was just enough of a hint of a little frisson of *something* between them.

Anyhoo, in this chapter Keren and Faramir get to know each other - some frisson-ing going on there too - and there's some pretty rubbish news, hence the title (which is a little nod to Wormtongue's name for Gandalf).

Chapter six – Ill news

Keren awoke with a clear head, feeling well rested despite everything that had occurred. She rolled over with a smile and a happy sigh. As soon as she was conscious she remembered that Faramir had asked for her to go to him. After her awkward encounter with the elf she no longer felt fear of being in Faramir's – a simple man's – presence. His mind and heart were, after all, the same as hers, unlike the odd creature she had met last night. She scrunched her eyes up in annoyance and forced the elf from her head.

Turning her thoughts back to Faramir, she decided she would not press the conversation back to their first meeting, but neither would she flee again if that was where their talk led. She was nervous yes, but not terrified.

She looked over to Palen, who had crept in whilst Keren was asleep. Palen was now lightly snoring herself. Keren looked at her fondly. It would not be long now until her sister was properly reunited with her husband, who had come to the houses briefly yesterday to reassure her all was well with him. So wrapped up had Keren been with Faramir that she had selfishly forgotten that Palen had her own love to be worrying over. Once the hobbit was properly up and about Palen could be released for a few days' respite back at her home with Dannor. It would do them both good to spend time together after almost two weeks apart.

Keren rose and stretched. She dressed herself with much more care than usual, choosing a freshly laundered shift and kirtle which still smelt of sweet herbs. The uniform was a dull dark blue, and the colour had faded which could not be helped, but she pulled the bodice of the kirtle a little lower than she normally did, to allow her shift to stretch over the tops of her breasts. Palen, if she were awake, would tell her off for using a whore's trick, but then she had seen her do the same thing when Dannor was first introduced to her. It would definitely be a step too far to pull the shift down as well, she decided, after thinking about it for far too long.

When she pinned her hair up and attached her scarf she made sure that some wisps hung down to frame her face. She could always pin them up if Ioreth or the warden said anything, but she would try her best to hide from them before she saw Faramir. Nothing could be done about the dark circles under her eyes, but she could hope that the more she rested the better they would appear over the next few days. The spot on her chin was also a problem, but she pinched her cheeks to bring some colour to her face and hoped that would be distraction enough.

She went to the refectory to break her fast, although she could not eat much due to her anticipation of what the day was to bring.

She went straight to the warden's room where Faramir lay, hoping that he would have left already so that the only person who might possibly notice and comment on her appearance would be Beregond, who she knew would probably just laugh.

Sure enough, he was there, beside Faramir's bedside, the warden long gone. Faramir was sitting up and looked brighter. The two men were laughing gently together, as if reminiscing, but there was an easily sensed anxiety in their manner. She wondered what news the morning had brought them both.

"Good morning," she said quietly from the doorway.

Both men looked over to her, and if either noticed at first glance her peculiar efforts that morning, neither of them showed it in his face. She could not help but be a little disappointed. She smiled awkwardly, as was her wont lately.

"Ah." Faramir's smile dazzled her, and rendered her speechless that he was smiling at her, for her alone. "Here is my favourite healer. You may leave us Beregond."

Beregond looked with surprise at Faramir's great smile for her, then shot her a happy, puzzled glance and rose.

"As you wish my lord," Beregond said with a small bow. "Although you know I cannot go far."

Faramir looked troubled.

"As soon as I take up my authority we will see about that my friend," he said. "You were loyal to me, and I will have him know that."

"My lord," Beregond nodded and turned on his heel swiftly. "I will remain outside the door."

Keren puzzled at this exchange. She looked worriedly at Beregond as he left. He shook his head minutely and winked at her, but she knew him, and she knew he was troubled.

She walked a little closer until Faramir had to laugh at her shyness.

"Come and sit," he said.

She sat, her hands clasped in her lap.

"Do you mind if I check your wound and your temperature, my lord?" she asked in a rush.

Best get this out of the way, she thought.

"I was hoping you would," he said in a friendly tone. "Are you a healer, or are you simply making a habit lately of finding a way to be at my side exactly when I have need of you?" He teased her gently. "For I did have need of you that day, although I did not know it at the time. You gave me hope."

Her breath caught as she took in his words, so clearly speaking of his first sight of her at the gates, but carried on with the task she had given herself. Her hand was surprisingly steady as she brushed the hair from his face and held the back of her hand up to his forehead. She gently took his wrist between the fingers of her other hand to check his pulse. It was steady and strong, to her great relief, and there was no hint of a fever, his forehead cool and smooth.

Keren could not believe her boldness as she said: "Is it a habit you wish me to keep up, my lord?"

Her hands remained where they were and their eyes met for the shortest of moments before she drew away.

"Call me Faramir," he said. "And I hope I may call you Keren?"

Her heart leaped in her chest.

"You may, and I will, my lord," she said.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Faramir," she said quietly with a smile.

She hoped beyond hope that no one would come in and hear them addressing each other so familiarly. She also wanted as long as possible alone with him.

"I will check your wound now," she said, avoiding any further names or titles. "You will need to sit up so I can change the dressing."

He slowly raised himself up so he was holding his own weight, grimacing slightly as he felt the delicate skin around the injury stretch. Keren tried to hide the deep breath she took. The last time she had checked his injury he had been unconscious so therefore had not been aware of her shaking hands. Now she realised exactly what had to happen she felt incredibly immature at her reaction. She had seen many men's bodies in her job, but now it was him under her care it felt very different.

"Are you able to remove your shirt?" she asked quickly. "I can – I can help you if you need."

"I think I would…appreciate your assistance," he said, and she could see he was ashamed to admit this. She had seen this many times, so as simply and as quickly as she could she pulled the thin material up and over his head, as he gingerly bent his arms and neck. He hissed in pain as he raised his left arm a little higher than his injury would have liked.

She placed his shirt on the bed and checked his bandages. They had been changed the night before by the look of things, and they were still clean. She remembered Palen had told her yesterday that the wound had stopped bleeding. Gently she reached around his neck and undid the neat knot at his shoulder, unwinding the thin strips of linen that had been wrapped around his chest from his right shoulder down to his ribs on his left side, covering his heart, to which the arrow had entered perilously close to. He made sure to keep his gaze down towards the bed, feeling a little uncomfortable. He was not ashamed of his body, but he was not used to a woman tending him.

Keren made sure that she focussed on the bandages not on his torso. Once they were all removed she saw that the injury to his chest was healing nicely. The warden's stitches were still in place, small and neat, and there was no blood. There was some bruising, yellow and blue patches spreading from the wound, but that would fade. Her eyes took in his chest as a whole, and then, against her better judgement, swept over his lightly muscled bare arms and his toned stomach. She knew he was a soldier so had expected this, a body well-conditioned and well cared for, but to be in such close proximity to him, as she had her imaginings confirmed, was making it hard to concentrate on her task.

"How is it?" he asked, sounding worried. And no wonder, he probably thought she had been staring silently in horror at the state of him.

"Um," she said, her voice tiny. "It has healed well; you will only have a small scar."

She brought her eyes up to his relieved face.

"But you will need to be careful for a couple of weeks," she added, "until we remove the stitches."

He nodded.

Keren was uncertain how to proceed now she had done her duty. Was she simply supposed to provide him with company?

But he has Beregond for that.So what am I supposed to do now?

"I know that the warden has told you about your father." She said the first thing that came to her head, and immediately regretted it as his expression turned stony.

"Yes," he muttered. "But I do not think he is telling me all."

Her breath held in her chest. She knew what had really happened and she could not be the one to tell him. Besides, they had all had orders from Elessar not to say.

"You are still recovering," she said. "You almost fell into shadow; you were so nearly taken from us. It would be too much for you. He is trying to spare your feelings."

"My feelings?" he glared at her. "I would have the truth."

"Trust me," she took his hand without thinking. "Trust that we will tell you, when the time is right. For now, just focus on healing."

"You would keep this from me too?" he said in disbelief.

"Only because I – I care for you too much to hurt you with the tale." She managed to look him straight in the eye.

It seemed to distract him.

"Do you care for me very much?" he said, his hand remaining in hers.

"Yes," she whispered. "Very much."

She was close to faltering under the stare from his stony grey eyes. They were so intense, and the way they were looking on her felt almost possessive. She felt a thrill in her stomach, which was quickly replaced by a feeling of loss as she felt his hand slip from hers. She wondered if this was all a horrible mistake and he was going to tell her to leave before she embarrassed herself further. She looked down and closed her eyes with shame and sadness.

Then she felt a warm hand gently cupping her chin between finger and thumb, raising her head. His eyes were soft and kind, his expression curious.

"Why?" he asked softly.

She hesitated. Now would be the time to tell him of the prophecy, but even thinking of that one word made Keren laugh internally. It sounded so ominous and dramatic, and she did not wish him to think her completely mad.

He sensed that she was uncomfortable and withdrew his hand from her face.

"Tell me," he said. "You need not be worried. I saw something in your face that day. You love me?"

Keren was far beyond the point of denial – she had already hurriedly told him when he awoke, and she knew she was terrible at keeping her emotions from her face.

"Yes," she admitted. "But I cannot tell you why. It is too strange."

He regarded her closely, but decided not to press her. He had had a handful of women who had claimed to love him before, but none as innocent and endearing as this one. He wondered if perhaps, for the first time, he could reciprocate those feelings. How strange their meeting had been – he had never known anything like it. His feelings at that moment he still did not fully understand, so did not wish to speak of it to her yet. But she was intriguing, definitely.

"Not as strange as you are to me, Keren daughter of Maleron," he said.

She stared. Had those very words not been said to her just the night before? But by one very different to the man that sat before her now.

She tried to brush off the strange coincidence, but for too long a time to feel comfortable, it had robbed her of speech.

"Come," he said, noticing that something had troubled her. "Let us talk of other things. Tell me of you – have you always lived in Minas Tirith?"

Keren gratefully, but haltingly, began to tell him of her life, which he seemed very interested in. Once she felt she had exhausted that topic she began asking him questions of his life in the citadel. She was curious how the son of a steward spent his days. He brushed quickly over his childhood, and life with his father, seeming to far more enjoy telling her about his patrols in Ithilien – what a fair and beautiful land it was, but dangerous, being so close to Mordor. She was sad but not surprised to hear how orcs and Southrons made regular attacks on his men, but fascinated to hear of the strange animals that he had seen. He had discovered from Beregond that they had been used in the attack against the city, and when he told Keren so she marvelled.

"They must be as big as houses," she exclaimed.

"Bigger, some of them," he said enthusiastically. "Mûmakil they are called, from the deserts of Harad."

She shook her head in wonder.

"From so far away. This world is so large, and I have never even left the city."

He looked at her curiously.

"Would you like to travel?"

"I'm not sure," she replied. "I want to see parts of the world, but not all. And I'm not sure I'd be a very good travelling companion, but it is not safe to go alone. Besides, I am needed here." She smiled, a little embarrassed. "If I were not tied to the Houses I think I'd like to…" But then she stopped that train of thought, as after last night she was less certain of the truth of it.

"To…?" he prompted.

"It is just a dream of mine," she said. "If I had no responsibilities here I would travel to the north, past the mountains. I had a desire to see the elves. Don't laugh."

He was not laughing, but she did not want him to start.

"Do you not have such a desire anymore?" he asked instead. "I share your interest in them. It is strange: the high men of Gondor speak their tongue, I could recite many a Sindarin poem, and yet few of us have ever seen one. I would like to know if they are truly as perfect as everyone says."

Before last night she would have smiled, but instead she just nodded.

"I think they all would be," she admitted. "I met one last night, and they were."

"You met one? Here? In the city?" he exclaimed.

"In the gardens of these very Houses," she said. "He had travelled here with Elessar. He told me – "

"It was a he?" he asked quickly, which made her mouth quirk up into a little half smile.

"Yes, and he was very… odd," she said, which seemed to be good news to him. "I think I did not like him much. He was polite enough, but he was just so different."

He frowned slightly.

"I hope he did not upset you?"

She shook her head.

"No," she replied. "But I am glad our meeting is done. His manner was rather intense. I do not feel I could sit with him as I am sitting here with you and just laugh and talk as we are doing."

"Well of that I am glad," he said with a smile. "It means I get you all to myself."

She looked away, eyes wide with embarrassment.

"I – I did not mean – " he began.

"I know," she said quickly, pleased she was not prone to blushing.

Awkward seconds passed by.

"What were you and Beregond speaking of?" she found herself asking.

"He was telling me of the decision that was made at a council yesterday," he replied. "Tomorrow a great host is departing, to march on the black gate of Mordor. The men of the west are making a last stand, it seems."

He hesitated before continuing.

"I do not know how much you know of all this," he began. "Isildur's bane? It is something I only learnt of recently."

"I know a little," she said. "The elf told me that the rumours we have all been hearing were true, to an extent. But I cannot believe it – surely we have no chance against Sauron when he has only two hobbits to face?"

He sighed.

"I have met the creatures of which you speak," he admitted.

"You have seen a hobbit too?" she asked. "Are they not wondrous strange? Pippin, the one I have met, is scarcely to my waist, and yet he is a prince!"

"You misunderstand me," he said. "I have met those two particular hobbits, in Ithilien. Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee, and long will I remember those names, although I have no hope of seeing their owners again."

This grows even stranger, Keren thought. And I have not yet told him that the elf saw his brother die. One thing at a time though, poor man.

"Frodo told me many a strange thing," he continued," and I admit it took much to believe all that he said. But I suppose I shared odd tales too. It seemed after a time we came to trust and understand each other. He had the One Ring, Isildur's Bane. He is indeed going to Mount Doom to destroy it. I sent him on his way there, when I could have brought him to safety here, and chosen a great warrior to go in his place. Now I think I have sent him to his death."

Keren sat unmoving and silent, knowing that this tale was hard for him to tell.

"I will not tell you more, save that this host that leaves tomorrow is nothing but a distraction to draw Sauron's eye north, away from Mount Doom. To give Frodo a chance. It is near certain death for all who go. I am to stay, by Elessar's command, for he deems me too weak for the journey and for battle. I would give anything to be riding at his side, to honour the ring-bearer who has all the fate of the world on his small shoulders. It is cowardly and shameful to stay."

He looked bitter and stern.

"No!" she exclaimed, and held his hand. "Faramir, you are only here because you have faced the chance of death bravely once before, to save your city. Let others take up the burden now, you have given enough."

He smiled sadly down at her small hand in his.

"I must admit," he said quietly, "you are a pleasant distraction from my worries."

There was a gentle knock on the door – far too soon for both. The morning had passed unaccountably quickly, and now the warden was at the door, sending Keren away for her midday hour of rest. Things had returned to normal within the houses, and the healers were able to return to their usual hours of work, but Keren was reluctant now to go, for it meant leaving his side. She knew she must obey the warden however, so with a small secret squeeze of Faramir's hand, she rose, giving a quiet goodbye and a promise to return.

After lunch Keren went to her room. She had been looking forward to spending her lunch with Palen, and had been surprised when she had not been in the refectory. As soon as she entered the room she knew something was wrong.

Palen was curled up on her small bed, and weeping.

"Palen?" Keren crept slowly into the room. "What's wrong? Pal?"

She received no reply, just a tiny shake of the head.

"Palen, what is it?" Her sister was not normally one to show much emotion, or to waste time with crying, so she knew something was very, very wrong. "Please tell me."

A minute sound came, smothered by the pillow.

"Dannor."

"What about Dannor?" Keren for a second feared the worst, but then remembered that he had come by the Houses after the battle was won. She sat on her sister's bed and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Palen was silent for a time, and Keren watched the tears slowly fall. She could tell by the redness of her sister's face and the hoarseness of her voice that she had previously been sobbing loudly and for a prolonged time. Palen finally spoke, lifting her head slightly to look at her sister.

"Oh, Keren," she said before dissolving into tears once more. Her words came quickly, breathlessly and bitterly. "He is to go with – with the army to – to Mordor!"

Keren's arms went around her sister automatically, the words sending cold dread through her blood. Faramir had said it was near certain death for any man called upon to march, and well she did believe him. Ithilien was the nearest to the Black Land any man dared go. She had nothing to say, words of comfort would not come.

"We were to have some time together after the battle," Palen said, softly now, "but now he is being taken from me again. And this time there is no hope of him coming back, none."

"There is always – " Keren began.

"Oh, stop it Keren," Palen said angrily. "There is not always hope, and I am tired of you saying there is throughout our entire lives."

Keren was taken aback at the despair and anger that was within the glare her sister threw her way.

"He has told me," Palen went on, "they are marching on the Black Gate, and they are going to face all the armies of Mordor, the Dark Lord himself. Only seven thousand are they hoping to muster, against the entire Land of Shadow. You're mad if you think they will survive!"

She broke down into a storm of angry weeping. Keren felt her own tears begin to form at her sister's hopelessness. Knowing that anything she said would be useless, she lay down next to Palen and hugged her tightly until the hour had passed and she had to return to work.

"What shall I tell the warden?" Keren said softly as she rose. "Shall I say you're ill?"

Palen shook her head.

"He knows," she said. "He was there when Dannor came to find me. He left us alone, but he knew what Dannor's tidings were. He sent me here afterwards. I have the rest of the day off."

Keren was reassured by the calmer tone her sister now spoke in, and tentatively asked an important question.

"Will you get to see him before he goes?"

Keren watched as the tears formed again in Palen's eyes, but this time she held them at bay as she shook her head.

"They are to leave early tomorrow; they have begun mustering already. We have said our goodbyes. Oh, I knew when I married him that he would have to fight, I just never thought…"

Keren hugged her tightly again.

"I must go back to work, but I don't want to leave you," she said sadly.

"I'll be alright," Palen replied numbly.

"I'll come and check on you as often as I can. Shall I bring you anything when I do?"

Palen shook her head and lay back down, her face to the wall.

"Bring me Dannor. That's all I want. But you can't."

"No, I can't." Keren said under her breath as she quietly closed the door. "I'm so sorry."

Keren went back to the warden's room, and as she arrived outside the door some of her anxiety must have shown in her face, as before she entered the room Beregond, still in guard position, lay a firm hand on shoulder.

"What is wrong?" he asked quietly, so that Faramir would not hear through the door. "You've been crying."

"It's Palen really," she explained. "Dannor came to tell her he is part of the army that marches on the Black Gate, and he is leaving tomorrow."

Beregond looked grim.

"Aye," he said. "He is in my company. Once this day is done I am to go down to the Pelennor and check all are there who should be. Tomorrow we march."

Keren looked up at him, anguish plain on her face.

"You too?" she said. "You're leading a company? But I thought – "

"I cannot remain here, nor can I return to the citadel." He interrupted her firmly.

"Why? That's where you belong! If we were to have no guards while all our soldiers are gone what would happen?"

"I have to go Keren," he said, with no effort at explaining. "By order of the King I have to go."

"He's not King yet!" she almost shouted at him. "And what about Bergil?"

"I was going to ask you to keep an eye on him," he replied. "He's a brave lad, but he is categorically not coming with me. Just – will you, if he looks troubled, or lonely, or…"

He tailed off, and Keren could see the effort it was taking him to remain strong.

"You will come back Beregond. You will," she said. "You have to."

Beregond sighed and hugged her close. Keren was surprised at this new development.

"Long have I loved you as a daughter," he said in her ear. "Although don't tell your actual father that."

She smiled through her sudden tears.

"I see you more than him anyway, and I don't think he's too unhappy about it," she said.

And then a strange thought occurred to Keren. She had not stopped to wonder if her father was to go. And if he was, he had not yet come to let his children know, to say goodbye. She hugged Beregond tighter as she realised just what she would miss if he was to fall.

"Will you still be here to say goodbye when I leave?" she asked. "I'm staying with him until sundown."

He shook his head.

"By then I will be with my troops," he said. "Best say goodbye now, eh?"

"You will not go in to say goodbye to Faramir?"

"I did so this morning," he said, "and he did not take it well. I don't wish to remind him that he is not going with me. He is taking it hard that he has to stay."

"I know. Then, goodbye Beregond," she said simply. She rose up on tip-toe, hugged his broad shoulders and kissed his cheek. "Come back to us," she said. "Come back to your wife and your family, and your friends. You are brave, and a strong fighter. You will not fall."

Keren knew they were empty words, as she could not stop Faramir's words echoing in her head. He had seen the Black Gate, he had gone as close to Mordor as any would dare, and now a whole host of men were being asked to go that one step further.

"I will do my best," he said simply. They drew apart, and he held her arms, smiling. "Besides, Pippin is to be in my company, and I've heard hobbits are useful in battle."

She weakly smiled back, and opened the door. With a sad look over her shoulder, she stepped into the room and closed the heavy wooden door, and he was gone from her.

Faramir was asleep, of which she was strangely glad. She was too sad, and the conversation just past felt too personal, to share such things with him now. Silently she sat by his side.

He awoke rather abruptly, jumping to with a start, then laughed sleepily.

"You seem in good humour," she noticed.

"I dreamt I was riding on a mûmak, and fell off," he admitted.

Keren laughed, and then immediately felt guilty for doing so, considering all the ill news she had heard that day. She knew the change showed on her face, and she held her breath as he took her hand.

"What is it?" he asked gently.

"The march tomorrow," she replied. "My sister's husband, and my dear friend Beregond, are to be in the host. But let us not talk of it."

"We should talk of it," he said firmly. "We should honour them. It is my aim tomorrow to watch them all leave, from the walls in the gardens here. It is the least I can do."

She frowned. She understood his sentiment but was concerned that it would take too much of his strength.

"My lord, it has only been two days since you were healed, I do not think it wise – "

"Oh, I am 'my lord' again now I have made you unhappy?" he said with a smile, which she returned.

"Calling you by your name does not make it a wise decision," she replied. "I think you are still too weak to be contemplating leaving your bed, let alone walking to the gardens."

"Allow me to prove you wrong?" he asked. "Besides it's about time the warden got his room back, the poor man's been sleeping in a cupboard since I was brought in. I should go to another room."

"Faramir, I – "

"Aha! My name once more; then you are starting to warm up to the idea."

"Oh, very well," she gave in. "Tomorrow we will see how you get on rising from your bed. I will permit you to watch from the window, but that is all. And I will have to speak to the warden about you changing rooms."

She wondered at how easily she instructed him, this great lord. And yet their easy conversation felt right and natural. When they were together, their troubles seemed to disappear and nothing else existed save their time in that room, which was fast becoming a temple of happiness to Keren.

"Come to me tomorrow morn," he said. "And we will watch together."

"Alright," she said. "Now tell me more about that dream."