Author note: Guys! I am so so sorry this chapter has been so long in coming! What can I say? Well let's just say that life happened – and for *happened* read *went totally f$%£ing crazy*. There is so much to sort out that this is kind of having to take a backseat for a while, but I am still enjoying writing it, just not as often! Anyhoo I AM back.

Thank you to Rachetg for the fav, and FrlBarth, Zip001, sleepyPrincess, Star Tae, Learnor, AxidentlGoddess, Copycat25 and nina32177 for the follows.

jshaw0624 - Thanks for another lovely review. Oh I do like to keep people guessing re. the dream! It will all make sense further down the line… I'm sure people have an idea of where they think the story is going, but trust me it's not as cut and dry as all that ;)

Rachetg – Thanks so much! I hope you continue to enjoy it. Haha I like both too. So nice of you to review, please keep them coming!

In this chapter, everyone else is really happy, Keren's pretty damn sad. But that was a rubbish title so I went for the much more formal 'joy and despair' instead. ;)

Four days passed since news had come from the Morgul Vale, and since Eowyn had risen from her bed. Since then there had been no tidings of the army, and the folk of the city began to lose hope that any would return.

For Keren they had been four days of uncomfortable uncertainty, both for the fate of her friends travelling ever closer to Mordor, and also for letting her mind run away with itself as to what happened every day between Faramir and the Lady Eowyn. For, despite her best efforts, Eowyn had been unable to ignore the steward's kind, unselfish words, and every morning since their first meeting she had walked and talked with him in the gardens.

His afternoons, and often evenings, still belonged to Keren however, and she told herself regularly that she enjoyed her daily visits to him, that those few hours alone with him were all she really lived for. But instead of the joy that usually rose in her heart every time she even caught a glimpse of him, there was now a pang – a pinch of embarrassment and awkwardness – whenever their eyes met.

Now it seemed vaguely plausible that he showed an interest in her the whole thing seemed far more real – less of a childish fantasy, more of a tentative romance that she could easily ruin if she said or did something wrong, which she had to admit was likely.

But then just as she found herself getting carried away with the idea of him falling for her, she would spy him and Eowyn talking closely together and her courage would falter, as she realised just how far removed she was from the noble lady's manner and bearing. The thought of him coming to her immediately after meeting with Eowyn, perhaps comparing his time with both of them, put her in a constantly self-critical mood.

She was conscious that this made her quieter and more withdrawn when she was in his presence, concentrating more on her healing duties rather than talking to him freely as she had at first. She wondered if he'd noticed, or if he cared.

Today was no different. He had asked for her as usual, using the excuse to the warden that he preferred her conversation to the other healers, and there, now expected by both, came that strange surge of energy when they were alone together. But again no mention was made of their near-kiss, or of the slightly stilted atmosphere between them.

How long can I hold his interest, she wondered, if my conversation and manner are boring myself let alone him?

To Keren it seemed that both were afraid to mention any hint of what could be, and yet were longing to.

He never spoke of Eowyn to her, which admittedly had Keren worried. She, however, doubted that she was a regular topic of conversation between him and the white lady.

And yet there was no way of knowing, short of spying on them which she could not bring herself to do, just what they spoke of.

Sometimes when she passed the entrance to the gardens she had seen them sat side by side under the willow tree where she had met the elf, the low branches mostly shielding them from her view. Other times they both stood at the wall, gazing out towards the Black Land. The lady was now always dressed in fine gowns which had been brought to her from the city's seamstresses, who had returned with the rest of the women and children after the siege. They, like Keren, had clearly all agreed that white was her colour. She did look well in it, for it emphasised her paleness and odd fragility, whilst making her golden hair seem to glow.

Faramir also was improving, both in health and in appearance – no longer did he need support when he walked, and his wound caused him less and less pain. His dark hair was shining and healthy once more, and the dark circles under his eyes had faded almost to nothing. His face was even thinner than before, true, and his eyes, unbeknownst to him, had a sometimes haunted look, but he smiled far more frequently, and could walk slowly at ease for hours rather than minutes. The time was approaching when he would be well enough to leave the Houses – a time which Keren both hoped for and dreaded.

The fact that he is wasting his last days here walking for hours with her rather than me is a problem, she often thought to herself.

She had briefly confided in Palen, who had not had the heart to tell her younger sister that all of the Lord Faramir's much anticipated questions to her and Merry the other day had been not of Keren, but of Eowyn.

Palen was not entirely sure what was going on – she had seen the way he treated her sister with both familiarity and tenderness, but she also knew some details of his conversations with Eowyn, often recounted to her by the lady herself, and guessed that the two noble folk were growing steadily closer.

That evening Faramir asked Keren to dine with him in his room, having secured her the evening off from the warden, who professionally declined to comment on the inappropriateness of the suggestion. She was, of course, overjoyed at the prospect of being in such an intimate situation with him, and curious as to his motives.

The sun had set by the time she had finished her duties and was able to join him. This time the room was lit by far more than a single candle, and it felt warm and welcoming.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she said hastily as she almost ran to the chair at his side. "I hope the food is not cold."

"Thoroughly congealed," he said. "But you are worth the wait."

She perched awkwardly on the edge of her chair, unsure how to take such a comment. A decidedly large group of over-sized butterflies threatened to leap from her stomach, but she valiantly controlled them.

Glossing over her silence, Faramir told her to start before the food was completely inedible. Together they sat and ate, sometimes in companionable silence, sometimes laughing and joking. But once the meal was finished the conversation turned serious.

"I think we both know that my time in these Houses is coming to an end," Faramir said gently. "I am almost returned to health. After speaking with the warden he has agreed that in a few days' time I will be able to take up my authority as steward."

Keren swallowed, for her mouth had suddenly gone dry. Only a few more days, and then they would be parted – a bittersweet feeling loomed.

"It has been my pleasure to…help you," she said, knowing that there was far more she could say. "I cannot tell you how glad I am that you have returned to health. But I will miss you."

"Ah, Keren, I will miss you too. You have made my time here bearable. What am I saying? Far more than bearable. I have enjoyed every minute I have spent with you, when I was conscious that is." They smiled gently at each other. "And I wish to thank you for everything. We have become good friends, have we not?"

Friends. The word reverberated around her brain.

"And there will always be this…whatever this is…between us," he continued. "For I acknowledge there is something, and has been from our first meeting. I feel it too."

Keren was silent, knowing that his next words would be very important.

"It would be in vain if I tried to deny that there were moments between us when I was… confused as to what I was doing, how I was feeling, after such a short time. We do not really know each other, and yet I feel I know your soul, and you mine. I assure you that how you are feeling, it is not entirely unreciprocated."

But… Keren anticipated.

"But…"

She hid her sigh.

"I think it is best if when we part, we part as friends," he said. "True and honest ones. For so I think we shall be, for the rest of our lives."

Keren's silence said more than she could have hoped to achieve with speech. She eventually exhaled and looked him straight in the eye with a sad smile.

"Getting to know you has brought me such happiness, and having your friendship will bring me much joy," she said, trying not to let her voice shake. She did not say anything about her prophecy, or what she knew must – surely? – come. She thought he would understand in time. "Though I will not say I will be able to change the way I feel. So perhaps it would be best if we do not meet, for a time. Until fate brings us together again."

Keren could not believe she had the strength to say those words. Her heart was breaking.

Faramir looked at her steadily, then nodded, saying nothing.

"Perhaps it is best if I –". Keren hastily rose to leave.

"Stay a minute more," Faramir interrupted, touching her hand with his. "I have sent for a gift for you, to thank you, and as a farewell. It was something very dear to my mother, and therefore to me. I wish for you to have it."

"You do not have to thank me," Keren said. "And – " she decided to be honest – "a gift from you will make it harder for me to forget."

"Then do not forget," he said, "but remember fondly. And we do not know what will occur in the future. Do you not feel that life is all a matter of timing?"

Keren smiled weakly in response, remembering that those were the exact thoughts she had had the night he had tried to kiss her. Perhaps he was right, and perhaps they would meet again and have a second chance.

"So, for now, we say goodbye?" he asked.

Keren nodded and shakily said: "For now."

Her hand remained in his as he stood, and she rose to face him. She stood numbly as she felt his arms hug her tightly to him. She was worried that she would cling on like a mad woman, but her arms simply reached up and rested on his shoulder blades, her head perfectly fitting into his chest. She closed her eyes, and she felt him gently kiss the top of her head, with so much affection she felt her heart would burst.

Slowly she looked up at him.

"I meant what I said, I wish for no gift," she repeated. "But I will remember fondly."

"We shall see each other again," he said.

"I know." Keren's eyes were dry and her voice was steady. "In time. And I will explain everything that I could not say this time."

"And I will try to understand," he said simply.

They drew apart, and Keren knew that no more would she visit him within the Houses of Healing. When she saw him next it would be as a distant figure, separate and aloof from her and her life.

"I will miss you," he said.

"I think perhaps I will miss you more than you will miss me," she said truthfully. "Goodbye, Faramir."

Without allowing herself to look back she turned and left the room.

Faramir sighed and turned to look at the gift he had thought to give her. It lay, folded into a neat pile, on the chest at the foot of his bed. The gold and silver embroidery upon the dark blue velvet shone and glimmered like the heavens it represented. His mother's mantle. The colour would have suited her so very well, and though she would not have had many occasions to wear it, it pleased him to think of her owning something so fine and drawing pleasure from it. But she did not want it.

And yet that is fitting, he thought as he realised the sad truth. For I do not want her. Whatever it is that I may feel for her – and I am not certain what that is – I do not want her. Not as she wants me. At least, not yet. No. Not now.

For Faramir's heart and mind were only just beginning to speak to one another, and he was starting to realise that there was another that he did now want. One who was not driven desperately to love him by any strange feelings of fate, but rather with a mutual desire to recover and find friendship and trust. One who had been cold and aloof to begin with, but who was now starting to smile on him.

Yes, thought Faramir, blue would look well with white.

Keren lay on her bed staring at the ceiling, an occasional tear rolling down her face and leaving a spreading patch of damp on her pillow. Confusion and disbelief raced around her head. She did not know how to feel, for she had never anticipated this moment to come. She had thought that it would be straightforward and easy, once their paths had crossed, once they were both, she thought, in the right place at the right time. And now, like an explosion which had left her reeling, this had happened. Everything had changed, in the space of minutes. Now she did not know where her life was headed, and the thought was terrifying. She had to hold onto the belief that this was just a test, a trial, and that they would have another chance. Why else would they have been brought together at this time? She closed her eyes and found herself bringing the crystal up to her heart.

How has this happened? Why? Why now? she kept repeating like a mantra over and over.

But her head and heart were in such turmoil that she could not hear or feel any reply that may have been forthcoming.

When Palen came in later that day she found Keren staring blankly into space, and knew immediately what must have happened. Silently she sat, and reversing their roles of a few days ago, lay down beside her little sister and hugged her tightly until Keren finally allowed herself to howl with grief.

The next day dawned cold and grey, with a bitter wind that caught old Ioreth's cheeks as she opened the window in the Lady Eowyn's room. Hastily closing the window so the noise of the sudden draft would not wake her, Ioreth glanced over at the young woman sleeping soundly, her pale faced still not fully relaxed even in repose. Ioreth wondered how Eowyn would take the gift that she had brought to her from Lord Faramir. It lay folded, heavy and dark, on the windowseat. What he meant by such a gift she did not know, but she had a feeling it was something to do with the almost primal sounds of despair she had heard coming from Keren's room the night before.

Silently she stole from the room, leaving the carefully written note atop the mantle, waiting to be discovered when the lady awoke.

Faramir was walking alone in the gardens, a strange feeling building in his chest – a feeling that something was about to happen which could change everything, but how, and what needed to change, he knew not.

"My lord Faramir," a now familiar voice called behind him. He turned to face the lady Eowyn, who was holding the mantle in her arms.

"I cannot accept this gift," she said quickly, "it is too fine for a shieldmaiden to wear."

As she stood there she was shivering, and Faramir could not help but smile at her pride.

"Will you at least wear it now, for it is plain to both of us that you are freezing," he said. "And then you can return it if you wish."

"What did you mean by offering such a thing to me?" she asked, and he was surprised to hear anger in her voice. "Surely you knew I could not accept it?"

"Why should I know that?" he asked quickly.

"It would not be fitting," she said with no pause or hesitation.

"How so?"

"A man does not just give things away to a woman he has just met. All sorts of things could be read into it. What must the healers have thought when they saw it laid out in my room, your note with it for all to see? And now there will be talk, and eyes watching us, and assuming. Wrongly."

Faramir blinked in surprise. How quickly her mind had gone in that direction. Little did she know that scarce twelve hours before he had actually been planning to give it to another. And yet how fine she would look in it now, her cheeks red with anger and, he realised, with embarrassment, but standing tall and proud, staring him down. Yet shivering, still shivering. He had a sudden desire to go over and warm her arms and red cheeks with his hands.

"Eowyn." He used her name without its title for the first time, causing her to take in a little sniff of surprise. "Will you not just forget your pride and put it on?"

"My pride is all I have," she said after a little while.

"You have my friendship now," he said simply. "Does that not count for something? For we are friends you and I, are we not? We have shared much together in a short time."

"Yes we are friends," she said.

"Then will you not accept my gift?" he asked.

Eowyn was about to shake her head when a bitter blast of wind hit her, causing her to grit her teeth against the cold and start shivering violently. She rolled her eyes. Faramir so longed to laugh, but knew that she did not always feel humour the same as he did. He took a few paces towards her, grabbed the mantle from her arms and quickly flung it about her shoulders. He thought about securing the clasp under her neck, but she deftly managed it herself before he had the chance.

Without a word she turned and walked towards the walls, looking out across the Pelennor, over to Ithilien and beyond to the Black Land.

Faramir held back a little and subtly studied her. So tall and fair – queenly indeed she looked now. And, of course, beautiful, although she did not realise it, and he caught himself smiling with fondness at her. His heart lurched a little as he realised just what he was beginning to feel. He would be ashamed to realise later that all thoughts of Keren had flown from his head, as if for that day she did not, had not ever, existed.

Slowly he walked to Eowyn and took their now familiar places beside each other at the wall, watching and waiting for they knew not what.

Keren could not bring herself to rise from her bed. It was foolish, for she knew she would be severely punished for it. And yet no one had come to check where she was and why she had not reported for work. So she allowed herself to lie, not particularly caring if she lost her place or not. The sun had long risen, and she could hear all the usual daytime noises of the Houses, could see that the sky was grey, could feel that if she moved from beneath her blankets she would be cold.

It must have been hours since she awoke, but she remembered in the months after her mother died that time had a funny way of rushing by whilst feeling that it was not moving at all, so she could not say what hour of the day it was.

And then a strange feeling took hold – one of complete nothingness. She was not sad, or tired, or even indifferent. She just felt nothing, and time seemed to stop completely. All sound had disappeared, as if it was affecting others too, and she was dimly aware that she was holding her breath. Then the light went. The sun seemed to fail, the sky darkened, and the wind dropped to nothing. Time stood still, and she lay frozen on her bed, and she would never afterwards be able to say how long that state lasted.

But as quickly as it came it ended, and now a great tremor rose up from the earth, shaking the washbowl on her windowsill, the room, the whole of the Houses, the walls of the city itself.

When it died away the strangest thing occurred – the earth sighed. She could never explain, nor could anyone who had heard the sound, what exactly it was that she heard, nor could she begin to replicate it. But it seemed at the time that all living things had been holding their breath for lifetimes, and only now could the breath be released. She noticed her heart was now beating heavily and robustly, and knew that life would go on, and that she would be alright, with a little patience and forbearance.

And she rose from her bed, and dressed, and smiled, for a strange joy had come into her heart that she could not explain or deny. A great wind had risen up, and rather than shutting it out she opened her window wide and gazed out at the sky, now blazing blue with a bright yellow sun high above, shining down upon the city. And she knew in her heart that something had happened, something wonderful.

Tears that she was not aware had fallen, both of sadness and joy, were drying on her cheeks as she walked hastily down the corridor to her work. Past the warden's office she went, and there were no stern words for her at her lateness, and past the gardens, which she did not even turn to look at in her haste to be at the side of her sister, and to ask if she had felt what had just happened.

Palen had, and they gazed at each other in happy confusion as they tried to fathom what could have come to pass. Then Ioreth appeared with the same dazed look of puzzled happiness on her face, and together they set to their work, Ioreth not even seeming to notice that Keren was over an hour late.

Indeed something strange had occurred, and the puzzling thoughts of all in the city were answered when a few hours later, shortly after noon, they saw something that few had ever seen, nor would see again.

An eagle had been sighted flying straight towards the White Tower from the Black Land, and swiftly. Tidings quickly passed through the city, and Keren was one of thousands who fought to find a space out in the open to see it fly over, for all knew it was a sign of some kind.

But none were expecting it to open its mouth and sing. Folk gaped in wonder, and the eagle thought it was most amusing, an entire city far below staring up at his belly with their mouths open. But he was too happy and proud to let it affect his song.

Sing now, ye people of the Tower of Anor,

for the realm of Sauron is ended for ever,

and the Dark Tower is thrown down.

Keren only heard the first verse, as he circled around and around the city, flying high and low, sometimes barely six feet from the walls, but it was enough to make her shout and laugh, and hug Palen to her tightly, and cry into her shoulder with relief and happiness. For a few blissful minutes, there was no despair or regret, no heart-wrenching sadness. Just joy.

There was joy in Faramir's heart also, as he stood with Eowyn on the walls, now crowded with all the folk from the Houses who were giving them not a thought, but rather staring up at the sky. And in that oddly private state, he was able to link his fingers with hers on top of the wall and smile across at her. She felt his gaze, and brought her eyes down from the sky and looked over at him. She did not smile, but the hand that remained in his gave him hope. As did the memory of kissing her brow and her not recoiling from him. She still wore the mantle.

The people of Minas Tirith rejoiced for many days. Flowers were strewn in the still ruined streets, music was played long into the night, as much wine and ale as could be sourced in the city was drunk copiously.

Keren and the other healers were rather amusingly kept busy with injuries from drunken accidents and brawls, but they still found time to celebrate.

Four days after the wonderful news had been brought, Faramir left the Houses and took up his authority as steward of the city. Keren had not seen him once in that time, out of choice, but she was able to smile with pride at the thought of him sat in the grand chair below the great throne in the White Tower, although she of course was not present when he did so for the first time.

What no one other than Palen knew however, was that as the days passed Keren still cried herself to sleep every night. She knew her emotions would be tempestuous for a long time. Her heart was severely bruised, close to broken, and she had been through much in a short time. Some nights she felt as if she would never recover, but every day she rose to go to work, or on her day off, ensured she spent the day doing something useful or fun. She ate and slept, and functioned, and to Palen that was a very encouraging sign, as when their mother had died Keren shut down completely and did not fully resurface for many months.

Keren was aware that she clutched the crystal tightly in her pocket, and perhaps clung to hope a little too much that their paths would cross again in the future – and when the tears came she let them flow unchecked, not berating herself for feeling as she naturally should. But underneath it all was a strength, a reassurance, that she was alive, and she had lived to see the fall of Sauron.

The hobbit then, she realised, must have succeeded. The elf was right to trust in him.

Her thoughts turned to the Prince of Mirkwood for the first time in many days, and she found herself wondering if he had survived, and if he had, whether she would see him again.

Learning more about elves would indeed be a great distraction, she thought.

Author note: Oh the feels! Argh, so Keren got friend-zoned. There's nothing worse is there, we've all been there! I hope people don't think she was overly melodramatic about it – the poor girl had set the guy on a pedestal for nine years, I think she's entitled to be heart-broken for more than a little while. But who knows what the future might hold? Well, me. Haha.