Author note: I am on a roll! Seriously, what is happening, I am writing so quickly lately!

Thanks to heyitsJace, Nbr2twin, WickedGreene13, Cutedxlls, NameWithNoMeaning, WatcherOnTheWall and qantaqa for the follows and favs :)

Rachetg - Thanks! I love writing them conversing together, I adore them both!

jshaw0624 - Thank you :) Yes it is verrryy slooowww building up their interactions, but it will be worth it eeeeevvvveeennntuuuaaallllyyyy (God I hope it will be worth it...).

qantaqa - I know what you mean, I feel the same about some of the stories on here, just update already haha! I'm honoured that you think mine is that enjoyable, so thank you and I hope you enjoy the rest of it (I've barely scratched the surface of the story btw).

alter321 - Oh the prophecy! She has totally shaped her life around it, and I guess it's up to the reader to judge if that's brave or stupid to put so much faith in something. It's all about how she deals with the fall-out now. But who's to say whether it was entirely untrue? ;)

WickedGreene13 - Wow, thanks for taking the time to review as you read, I was so touched to see all your comments in one go! I really want to keep people guessing about the whole Faramir/Legolas thing. I love them both so it was hard for me to choose for her, but I have and I'm sticking with my decision! I really hope you keep enjoying it. (And yay for another fan of barefoot Legolas! Why is it sexy? Is it just me that thinks it is? I don't know lol).

Some dialogue in this chapter is taken directly from Tolkien, so I feel like this time it's actually worthwhile saying I don't own those bits or indeed any of his characters, places, random objects etc etc etc. Enjoy!

Chapter Thirteen – The King is crowned

Keren awoke the next morning with more energy than she had felt for a long time. After the elf had gone she had found her way back to the healers' tent where she had slept undisturbed, and woken with a clear head and bright eyes, unlike Palen who was nursing the effect of too much ale the night before. She set to work with determination and genuine pleasure at helping those in need.

Thus the days passed at Cormallen. She did find her mind wandering to Faramir, particularly late at night or when the daylight hours were quiet, but usually she had something to occupy her time. Every few days men returned to the camp after scouting the land for Southrons and Easterlings, and sometimes they were sorely wounded, for the enemy were not willing to leave without a fight. Keren and Palen found themselves busy tending to them for most of their time in the camp.

The girls did however have much free time, and this they spent, when they could, in each others' company. Beregond and Dannor were often with them too, and Palen even visited their father every other day. Keren joined her when the mood took her.

Some of their happiest hours at Cormallen, however, were spent in the company of the hobbits. Keren did not realise how much the youngest, Pippin, had befriended Beregond, and often the three of them would sit sharing funny tales and jokes. Merry would sometimes join them, and after a few days of encouragement, the two others.

Keren did not know how to act around Frodo and Samwise – they were far quieter than their companions, although still quick to smile, and had as great an appetite for food and beer. They did not speak of their time in the Black Land, nor was she sure that she wanted to hear of it, but it was clear to her that they shared a strong bond after their trials.

Keren, Palen and Dannor would sit silently in awe as they shared tales of their adventures, and listened with quiet respect as they described their homeland.

The girls knew that their grandmother, whom Keren had been named after, had been born in Bree, which the hobbits had passed through on their journey. It was, they were amazed to discover, where the hobbits had met the King, although he had been in a different guise then.

When they asked the girls why the family had ended up so far to the south they could not answer, for their mother had never shared the tale. Listening to the story of the hobbits journey, however, made them realise how far their ancestors must have travelled.

As the days passed into weeks, most evenings this strange small group of two girls, four hobbits and two men would meet. Keren always looked forward to her time with them, but as time went by she began to notice something that troubled her. Beregond, rather than becoming more joyful at the prospect of his return home, which must surely be growing near, seemed on edge and anxious. Whenever mention was made of the city, of Faramir – during which times Keren fought desperately hard to remain indifferent – or the citadel, he would grow grim and silent. Once a flicker of fear passed over his face, and she longed to ask what troubled him.

She waited for a quiet moment as they were leaving the hobbits' tent one night, but he brushed off her questions and she did not press the matter further. She continued to watch him however.

Almost two weeks had passed by when the last of the troops returned from Mordor. Their grim and pale faces were proof of the dark forces that still lingered there, for long would it be before that land was fit for habitation again. It was on these men that Keren witnessed the King's skill at healing once more, for as much as she could heal their physical wounds, there was little she and the other healers could do to cure their low spirits as he could. It seemed to Keren that he worked a strange kind of magic, and once she was even tempted to ask him if he could cure the pain in her heart. But then the elf's words came back to her.

When we feel as if we are so lost that we can never be found, that is when we can give ourselves the time to learn who we truly are, so we can find our way to what we truly want.

Keren felt she had not worked out yet what she wanted, other than Faramir, so perhaps she was meant to endure this pain until she had. It was not an encouraging thought.

She had thought of the elf often, unlike the time before, and it was frustrating to know that this time he was in the same vicinity as her. Only now their meeting was done had she thought of the many questions she could have asked him about his people. But it was highly unlikely they would meet again.

Despite all the hours she spent with the hobbits, and the brief time she had seen the King, the rest of that illustrious company seemed to keep themselves to themselves. The wizard, the elf and the dwarf she knew spent time with the hobbits, but understandably always at different times to her and her friends. The King of Rohan she actively tried to avoid due to his association with all that had occurred, but she was fortunate, as their paths did not cross again.

The month of April was nearing its end, and Keren was beginning to wonder just how long they would have to remain at Cormallen, for eventually all the sick were healed, and all the men were well rested. There was now little for the healers to do.

Then came the announcement from the warden – they were to make ready to leave the next day. Keren was not entirely sure how to take the news of their return. She would be pleased to go home, back to familiarity, but it would mean returning to the place of her heartbreak, and there would of course be a chance of seeing Faramir again, which her mind dreaded but her heart longed for.

Cormallen had been an exciting time for her, and beneficial to her spirit too, for a firm friendship had been formed between the two sisters and the hobbits, especially Merry and Pippin.

The four of them plus Dannor and Beregond spent a final night of companionship together, and they were all loath to be parted, for they did not know when they would see each other again. No doubt the hobbits would be close to the King in the following days, and when Keren asked Beregond what he would do he replied shortly that he knew not.

The morning of the twenty eighth of April dawned, and all had been packed up. A little over three weeks in all Keren had been away from home, and as with the rest of her time of late, sometimes it had felt like months, and others but a few days. She was surprised to see the entire camp being cleared – it was not just the healers that were going home, but the whole great host of men.

Once more they crossed the Anduin, although it took the best part of a day for all to land at Cair Andros, so there they stayed for a night. As Keren settled down to sleep on the deck under the stars once more she wondered whether her time at Cormallen had changed her. She decided not, for still her heart was aching, and still the tears threatened at quiet moments. She had not forgotten her crystal however, for it had remained in her pocket as always, and now she held it tight as she shut her eyes. No words of wisdom had she gained from it, but then she had not asked, and she belatedly wondered why that was.

The next day all sailed down the great river to Osgiliath, and it was here that the healers and servants parted ways from the army. Their belongings loaded into the wagons once more, they set off across the Pelennor towards home.

Keren watched as the small white speck in the distance gradually became the familiar site of her city – the distinct circles, the white walls, the towering point of the White Tower – all beneath the giant mountain of Mindolluin with its great heft of rock cutting through the centre. She spied out the sixth level where her home was within the Houses, and could even see the spot on the walls which she now associated with grief. She lowered her eyes hastily and tried to think of other things.

She looked back to Osgiliath, where the host were to remain for one day and night. Somewhere amongst the ruins were her friends and her father. No doubt the hobbits, as the King's close friends, were to travel with him tomorrow. For on that day, the last day of April, they were to journey with the army to the fields of the Pelennor, healing now after the great battle fought on the once lush grass, and make camp together one last time. For on the first day of May the King was to be crowned.

It was a different city that the healers returned to. The women and children had returned, bearing flowers from the countryside where they had stayed safely away from the fighting. Folk from all across Gondor had somehow found space to stay, and amongst them were skilled singers and musicians, all aiming to compose and perform great masterpieces of these the golden days of their country. The city still bore the scars of the siege, for some time would pass before a plan could be put in place for the repair of the walls and gates, but the Houses of Healing were reassuringly unchanged as the small group made their way up to the great front door.

Ioreth was there to welcome them all, and Bergil peeked from behind her back and, spotting Keren, waved happily. He helped the girls take their belongings to their room, immediately asking after his father.

"Mother had a letter from him," he explained, "but it's not the same as seeing him and knowing he is well."

"He is well Bergil, have no fear," Palen replied. "We have spent many happy hours with him."

Keren was silent, for she did not wish to comment on what she had perceived to be her friends' strange humour of late. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but she did not want to worry Bergil.

"And you have been alright Bergil?" she asked instead.

"Oh, more than alright, apart from worrying about father of course. Ioreth has had me assisting her rather than just running messages. But mother and Borlas returned a few days ago, so everything is back to normal now. Now all we need is father. Do you want me to help you unpack?"

His rushing babble was another thing that was familiar and comforting. Keren felt great relief that he was safe and well, for Beregond had asked her to watch him whilst he was away, and then she had up and ran away to Cormallen herself with no thought for him at all. Really, she did not like how selfish her sadness made her. She vowed silently to herself that she would make up for it.

"There is to be a meal all together tomorrow, to celebrate all of the healers being back together," he went on. "The Lady Eowyn is to be guest of honour."

Palen noticed two things simultaneously – Bergil went red, and Keren went white.

"She is very beautiful," he said simply, obviously aware that he was blushing. "She is staying here in the Houses, for she does not wish to leave us, imagine! She says it is here that she found her happiness. Oh, but wait, you might not have heard the news, her and the Lord Fara – "

"We have heard Bergil," Palen said quickly. "News was brought to our camp."

"Isn't it wonderful?" he beamed. "For he is so handsome and wise, and she is so fair and brave, it is like something from the old tales! And they fell in love here, in the gloomy old Houses! Well, not that gloomy I suppose, but – "

"It is indeed a lovely story." Palen forced a smile. "Bergil, we do not need your assistance unpacking, but you could go to Ioreth for us and ask if there are any duties we could be getting on with, as neither of us are in need of rest."

Bergil looked a little disappointed at being dismissed, but quickly went off to do Palen's bidding.

"Keren, oh Keren, I'm sorry," Palen said quietly. "He was not to know."

"It's really happening isn't it?" Keren managed to say. "They will marry."

"It appears so."

"And it will be all people speak of here, I will never escape it, and she will live here in the city with him, and I will have to see them together, and they will have children, and be happy, and I – "

"Keren," Palen said hastily. "Keren, stop."

There was silence as Keren became aware of her surroundings, of how she had sank onto the edge of her bed, of Palen kneeling at her feet, strong hands on her arms, bracing her back to reality.

"Oh, Pal," she whispered. "I can't… I just can't do this anymore."

"Nonsense," her sister said brusquely, trying to hide the fear in her voice from hearing her little sister speak so again, just as she had after the death of their mother. "Of course you can. Why you were almost back to your old self at Cormallen. It was just a shock to you, hearing that she is here."

"I can't face her."

"Yes you can, and you will. Tonight we will both sleep well, tomorrow we shall go to the meal, and we will both eat and drink and celebrate that our city was saved. Celebrate that we are alive in such times, and get to see a King crowned, and meet folk who we only knew as strange figures from tales."

"The elf," Keren said numbly. "Legolas."

Palen raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Prince Legolas," she said, "of Mirkwood? Merry introduced him to me and Dan."

"Just Legolas, he said," Keren said cryptically. "I am glad I got to meet him."

"When did you?" Palen was intrigued, for her sister had made no mention of him before.

"Here, in the gardens, before… everything happened. And then the night of the feast at Cormallen. We spoke of many things."

"Oh," was all Palen could say in reply.

Ioreth gave the girls the evening to recover from their travels, although despite going to bed early Keren did not sleep well, lying awake with grim anticipation of what the meeting with Eowyn would bring.

During the morning she attempted to keep herself busy by sorting out the store room, returning things taken to Cormallen that had not been used to near enough their rightful places. But the midday meal was drawing near, and she found she had no appetite as she began to walk to the dining hall.

The girls were careful to take their seats as far away from the main table as they could, for there Eowyn was to sit with the warden and Ioreth.

Just after twelve the warden appeared, the White Lady of Rohan on his arm. All stood and bowed. Keren managed to rise and grit her teeth, bobbing into an awkward curtsey as she passed by, but no one seemed to notice anything amiss. She did not look up, so did not see that the lady smiled on her in recognition of her good care and companionship. Palen thought it best not to tell her sister what she had missed, but she gave the lady a genuine smile in return as she received similar attention. She had grown to respect Eowyn while she was under her care, and Palen had to admit the lady did not know of Keren's strange infatuation with Faramir, so she could not bring herself to dislike her for what had happened. None of her actions had been malicious or knowingly cruel, it was all just unfortunate timing.

All took their seats and the food and drink was passed around. Keren's hands were shaking. Palen nudged her knee gently under the table, and she took a deep breath and bit into a bread roll, which to her tasted of dust. Many roasted meats with rich sauces were brought out, but Keren only felt nauseous. She looked down at her plate as a battle to be fought.

"Eat," Palen whispered.

Keren risked a look at the lady. She was still beautiful – even fairer than she had been before, for now she was healed and happy.

"Keren." Palen's voice. "Do not stare. Eat."

Keren ate, and looked no more on the lady. But she tasted nothing.

The afternoon seemed to go on for eternity, and she practically jumped out of her seat when Eowyn left, indicating the end of the formal meal. She wished to be on her own for a while – there would be enough time for celebrating tomorrow at the coronation.

Normally, when she was in a reflective mood such as this, she found her feet going to the gardens and her spot by the walls overlooking the Pelennor, but now that place was forever tainted by what she had witnessed there, and she felt she would not find peace there again.

Another thing that has been taken from me.

She instead went back to her room and straight to bed, giving herself the excuse that tomorrow would be a long day.

If she had stopped to look out of her window she would have seen, as thousands did that night, the tents of the host being set up, for they had marched that day from Osgiliath to the Pelennor. As night fell their torches were lit, and they eagerly awaited the coming of the sun, for when dawn broke the ceremony would begin.

Keren was shivering from a mixture of both the cold of the early morning and anticipation. She wondered if anyone in the city was still asleep at this moment. For though it was still dark, people in their thousands had made their way down through the levels of the city and onto the plains outside where the great gate had stood. The healers had left earlier than most, for, as thanks for their hard work during the darkest hours of the siege, they had a prime position for viewing the event that was to come.

She could not help but be excited for what she was about to witness, and tried not to think about her imminent sighting of Faramir. Instead, she decided, she would focus on committing to memory the splendour and importance of an event that had not occurred in Minas Tirith for almost a thousand years.

There were a few murmurs of conversation and short bursts of laughter, but mostly folk were silent as they gathered on the plains, waiting for the sun to rise behind the mountains in the east, now clear of shadow and fire.

Keren and Palen stood just behind the warden and Ioreth, realising that they would have an excellent view of the proceedings.

Slowly the light began to change, the cold grey of dawn turning all faces pale as they looked towards the fields for a sign that things were to begin, but there was no sign of movement yet, although all could now see the army amassed in their thousands.

And then, like a burst of flame, the first tiny sliver of the red morning sun appeared over the mountains, turning the sky orange and pink as it crept up ever higher. As the base of the blazing disc cleared the very tips of the black hills all the bells in the city were rung, announcing the new day, but also heralding a new age, for with the sun came the King. Across all the city walls banners were unfurled, and down on the Pelennor fields the army released their standards to blow in the cold morning breeze, until the scene was like a patchwork of colours and golden light. But above all flew one plain white flag – the standard of the stewards, flying for the last time atop the White Tower.

And with that signal the host began to march, their armour glittering in the sun – men of Rohan and Gondor, and of the Dúnedain, and somewhere amongst the crowd the more unusual figures of four hobbits, a wizard, three elves and a dwarf.

From the city came a smaller group. Representing the folk of Rohan were the Lady Eowyn and Elfhelm, a marshal of the Mark, along with some of their knights. Alongside them were some of the captains of Minas Tirith, and Hurin, the warden of the keys, who had been entrusted with the ruling of the city during Faramir's days of illness. And beside him was the Lord Faramir himself, his black hair blowing in the breeze and his noble face all angles and shadows in the light of the rising sun.

Tall and fair he stood, his sword at his side and in his right hand the white rod of his office. Keren held her breath, and she knew if there was a moment she would have fallen with despair or anxiety, that would be it, for so proud he looked, so great, and so worthy of her love. Love that he did not want or need. To add yet more pain, there stood Eowyn just behind his shoulder, beaming with pride at the sight of her betrothed. But the shock came and went, and she found she was still standing, and still breathing, and still – unbelievably – looking forward to the ceremony and the celebrations. She felt almost as if the worst had now occurred, and she had survived seeing them together. Now all she could do was endure the rest of her life, and she was not doing too badly at that.

The host kept marching until they were but a few hundred feet from the gateway. No gate stood there now, and all that remained was sad stacks of rubble, but a barrier had been hastily built in its stead, in front of which stood men at arms dressed the same as Faramir, in black and silver, with their swords drawn in honour of the new King.

When the army halted the crowd hushed, for all could now see the figure at the front of the Host, and the sight of him instilled wonder into the hearts of all.

Clad in black armour inlaid with silver, his dark hair was loose around his shoulders, and his face was handsome but stern. Over his shoulders a mantle of white fell to the floor, and at his throat was the same green brooch that had so dazzled Keren at her first sight of him. Circling his head was a narrow band of silver, with just a single star shining on his forehead. No such figure had been seen in the city since the last age, and many there thought they were seeing Elendil himself, as if he had just come from the ship that had borne him to Middle Earth from the west.

He stepped forward, and walked slowly towards the entrance to the city, where Faramir stood ready to receive him. Behind him walked his kin, the Dúnedain, all clad in silver and grey, all tall and dark as he. At his shoulders were Eomer, King of Rohan and Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, and flanking them were figures that were only familiar to a very few – Mithrandir, and three strange, small creatures. But oddest of all, a fourth of these was walking at the side of the King, as if an equal.

Keren's heart caught in her chest with pride at the sight of the hobbits in such a place of honour, although the moment was somewhat ruined by Ioreth's wittering to her cousin, who she had managed to sneak into the front row with her.

"Nay, cousin! they are not boys. Those are Periain, out of the far country of the Halflings, where they are princes of great fame it is said. I should know, for I had one to tend in the Houses."

Keren and Palen looked at each other behind Ioreth's back and rolled their eyes, smiling. Whilst Pippin had been keen to keep the creative but inaccurate title given to him during his time in the city – Prince of the Halflings – the girls had swiftly been informed by Frodo at Cormallen that he was most decidedly not.

As Elessar neared the gate a single trumpet was sounded, and Faramir and Húrin walked forward to meet him. Behind them came four armed guards of the citadel, bearing a casket of silver and black.

Upon their meeting it struck Keren just how alike King and Steward were, both in stature and in looks, their dark hair and grey, farseeing eyes proclaiming their shared blood of Númenor for all to see. Faramir knelt before his King, holding out his rod of office.

"The last Steward of Gondor begs leave to surrender his office," he proclaimed loudly, and it seemed to Keren he showed no grief at having to resign his authority.

The reply that came was unexpected to all.

"That office is not ended, and it shall be thine and thy heirs' as long as my line shall last. Do now thy office!"

Elessar handed the rod back to him, and Faramir rose.

He took a moment to gather himself, and Keren's heart went out to him with pride and love as he readied himself to speak when he had not expected to. But when he spoke, he moved the hearts of all present.

"Men of Gondor, hear now the Steward of this Realm! Behold! one has come to claim the kingship again at last."

The words of his long speech dwindled into insignificance for Keren, who could not tear her eyes from him. For here was the epitome of what she had fallen in love with, here was the proud and noble man of Gondor, friend to Kings and still Steward of a great city, who inspired faith and love in all who saw him. This was the man she had known she was destined to love, to support, to grow old with. And yet none of that had come to pass, and now there was another in her place – one fairer, bolder and braver than her.

She jumped as all the thousands of folk shouted 'yea!' in answer to him asking if they accepted Elessar as King. Hastily she added her own voice to the crowd before it was noticeable she had not been paying attention.

Then Faramir spoke once more, and Keren tried her best to watch the events unfold rather than pin her eyes on him. He held up a crown which he had taken from the casket, crafted all in white and shaped with wings of pearl and silver. A light shone around it despite its great age.

The King took the crown and holding it aloft sang in a clear voice the words of Elendil, which carried to where Keren stood listening in awe.

Et Eӓrello Endorenna utúlien. Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta!

And then another moment of surprise came, for he did not then lower the crown onto his head. Instead he passed it back to Faramir, and for one dizzyingly wonderful confusing moment Keren thought Elessar was about to renounce his title and pass the kingship to the steward.

"By the labour and valour of many I have come into my inheritance," the King said. "In token of this I would have the Ring-bearer bring the crown to me, and let Mithrandir set it upon my head, if he will; for he has been the mover of all that has been accomplished, and this is his victory."

So the dark-haired hobbit walked slowly forward to take the crown, and Keren smiled with joy to see the faces of Merry, Pippin and Sam with tears of pride flowing freely. The King knelt to receive the crown as Frodo passed it to the wizard.

"Now come the days of the King," Mithrandir's loud voice proclaimed, "and may they be blessed while the thrones of the Valar endure!"

At those words Keren felt something very strange, for the crystal in her pocket seemed to pulse and resonate with joy which echoed through her whole being. She clenched her hand automatically around it in response, and wondered what was happening, but with the events of the day she was to forget all about it by nightfall.

As Elessar stood once more, with the crown of ancient Kings upon his head, all guise of him as an ordinary man was swept away, and he was revealed to all as the powerful figure Keren had first seen in the Houses. She had never seen him as anything different, and so was a little puzzled by the reaction from all those around her.

A light shone around him, and any folk that had been doubting his claim to the throne knew in that moment that the true King had returned at last.

"Behold the King!" Faramir cried. With that trumpets blasted, and Elessar walked forward to the barrier at the gateway to the city, which Húrin opened solemnly. Soon he was lost to Keren's sight, as were all the group at the gates, as all progressed up through the levels of the city to the Citadel, where the banner of the White Tree was unfurled, to fly high and proud above the White Tower for as long as King Elessar's heirs were to rule.

Now all that was left was for the host on the plains to disband, and Keren in her prime spot by the gate, watched with happiness as Beregond's wife, and Bergil with little Borlas, ran forward to greet her dear friend. Her and Palen hugged each other in their mutual joy and excitement, and she found that, unusually, she could not stop smiling and laughing.

Someone was watching her however, although she was unaware.

Legolas had been behind the company of Dúnedain, standing with Gimli. Now they were to make their way up through the city streets to celebrate with their friend the King. As they passed by the healers of the city Keren did not even notice him, but he stopped in his tracks at the sight of her so happy, and smiled fondly. The dwarf noticed this, and unseen by the elf as he began to walk once more, looked up inquisitively at his friend, wondering what could have prompted such a thing.

But the thought left his head as quickly as it came, for Aragorn had promised him a feast worthy of even dwarvish appetites, and he could not get to the Merethrond quickly enough to see if this claim was true.

Author note: Ok so I know in the book Aragorn doesn't sing, but I love that little tune Viggo Mortensen set to Tolkien's words, so I changed it to be a song... Book purists don't hate me ;) It means: 'Out of the Great Sea to Middle-earth I am come. In this place I will abide, and my heirs, unto the ending of the world.' Until next time x