,Author note: Once again, HUGE apologies for the MASSIVE delay. Great as fantasy is, real life does, strangely, have to be prioritised ;)

Thank you to greengrl7, mezzieb1, Certh, Countess de Delos, Daeris1225, Jessy12213, fruityfangirl and sven123123123 for the follows and favs *waves*

Certh - oh wow thank you so much for your incredibly detailed, helpful reviews. The punctuation and grammar ones have been very useful and I hope there aren't as many slip ups from now on. There are two comments of yours that I will try and answer, I would honestly love to discuss everything you said but I would be here a while ;) I hate she-elf too, I've decided, and wish I hadn't written it. I guess I'd just heard it in the movies - 'give up the Halfling, she-elf' lol and it stuck in my head. You're right it does sound a bit derogatory, but I guess the black riders would be pretty sexist and racist to a female elf! Also your concern for Frodo's finger - notice Palen asked where the clean dressings were. The dressings needed changing - Frodo and Sam had of course been treated whilst sleeping, for their injuries, the rest is checking their condition was not worsening - Merry was just desperate for Palen to be involved! I hope you continue to enjoy the story and give great constructive reviews.

Failisse 2001 - thanks for reviewing and glad to hear you're enjoying the story :) I am SO GLAD someone picked up on that passing comment on the girls' family background. I actually wrote that it was their grandmother who was born in Bree, who Keren was named after. But still you would have thought tales of hobbits would have been passed down from her to the girls through their mother... Haha all I will say is their mother, Orwen, you've not been told much about yet, and that is very deliberate. But no, she's not a Dunedan!

Guest - I know not who you are, mysterious guest, but thank you muchly for your great review :) I think you give a fair comment about the 'medieval' tone slipping somewhat, but my defence is a) medieval was a period on our earth, not in Middle Earth, so technically the characters can speak how they like - HOWEVER I like the archaic tone Tolkien often uses, particularly with the elves and in Rohan and Gondor, and for the most part try to stick to that. Sometimes my characters do go a bit 'modern sounding' but to be honest I find it hard to make them say certain things without sounding horribly cheesy if I was forever thee-ing and thou-ing. Glad you are enjoying it!

Wicked, jshaw0624, Hawaiichick, Rachetg and greengrl7 cheers me dears for your reviews!

There has been a common theme of 'it's great that Keren isn't a hero or a warrior but a down to earth normal girl'. I agree, I love her, she is a bit messed up, but brave when it matters, just not with a sword. Also I've found that some folk don't like cliffhangers. You'll be pleased to hear this chapter ends fairly solidly. Also, THIS CHAPTER IS THE MOST IMPORTANT SO FAR, YOU MAY GO LIKE THIS: WHAAAAAT, OHHHHH, WOOOOOOOW, NOOOOOO, AHHAAAAAA or whichever of these you choose, all if you so wish. x

Chapter sixteen – Starlight

Palen was beginning to wonder if Keren had abandoned the celebrations. Once fifteen minutes had passed she assumed it was no visit to the privy, and after an hour had gone by she realised that her sister had not returned to their room to check her appearance and make amends.

Perhaps she has retired for the night, Palen thought. She did look a little pale.

Just as she had almost made up her mind to go to their room and check on her, Palen caught sight of Faramir returning from the House of the King, in the direction Keren had gone over an hour before. Immediate concern entered her head, for she had never seen the steward look so disturbed, and, she realised belatedly, he had also been absent from the feasting since the sun had started to set.

"Oh, no, Keren," Palen whispered under her breath, sending up a quick prayer to the Valar that her little sister had not been caused more grief.

"Mistress Palen," a gruff voice said behind her.

She turned and stumbled over her reply in surprise over who it was who had addressed her.

"M – Mithrandir," she said quickly.

"Watch your sister closely when she returns, I fear all is not as it should be tonight," was all he said, before turning away and disappearing back into the crowd.

What am I supposed to make of that, she wondered.

But before she could dwell too long on Keren's whereabouts, two small figures appeared, with Dannor behind them.

"The dancing is about to start, Pal," Merry said excitedly. "Save us a couple each. Where's Keren?"

"I know not, Merry," Palen replied. "I was just about to go to our room to see if she had gone there."

"Perhapsh she had too mush wine with dinner," Pippin said. "All the besht people did."

Palen gave a little smile, but could not stop herself from worrying what had befallen her sister. But Mithrandir had said 'when' Keren returned, not 'if'. Reassured that she was at least safe, she followed the tipsy hobbits into the Merethrond.

Keren had stood frozen for a full ten minutes, her fingers clinging to the balcony as if she were on the deck of a ship. Thoughts and feelings had deserted her, and she felt as if she had slipped out of time. Somewhere in the back of her brain was a dim awareness that she had experienced something that she could not explain, something that had once more set her off on a different path. It was oddly freeing. And yet beneath that – after her one final attempt to make him understand – was heartbreak that he had ultimately rejected her, despite, for one too short moment, acknowledging that he felt the same.

It meant nothing. It was goodbye.

She knew he lied, and thought him a coward, afraid to not conform to what was expected of him. Part of her felt she should be happy at the thought of him with Eowyn, as he did not deserve her honest and brave heart, but she knew although this was true that she was fooling herself – she was close to breaking once more. She was not sure she could be brave again, not after this, what felt like a true and final end to all her hopes. The memory of lying alone in her room, with no feelings, with a strange detached-ness from the world, seemed appealing once more, but it also terrified her, for to return to that state would be to allow herself to break. She leaned forwards and rested her forehead on her folded arms, shutting out the lights of the city. She did not cry, but rather felt a twisting begin somewhere in her belly, which made her want to grit her teeth and groan, as if she was in physical pain.

Mother, was her only coherent thought. Mother I miss you, I need you now. Please.

But of course there was nothing – no gentle caress of her cheek, no warm embrace, no soft voice telling her all will be well. With the realisation that there never would be, Keren pulled herself upright quickly. She did not know where she planned to go to, what she would do, who she may see, but she just felt an urge to move. She spun round and took a single step, but then stopped dead as she realised she was not alone. Her initial thought was to carry on walking, and pretend she had not seen the elf, who was illuminated plainly by the light of the moon. But she knew he would not fall for that.

"Why are you here? Why are you always…?" Her words dried up.

On closer inspection Legolas looked ill at ease himself. His face, though almost always serious, was tonight especially drawn. He looked perplexed, unnerved even. And she realised that it was her that he was looking at with such a perturbed expression.

"What?"

Keren was in no mood to be polite, even to a prince among elvenkind. She watched as the elf blinked and inhaled deeply.

"At last I see the cause of your pain," he said gently. "And it grieves me, but greatly puzzles me."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You love," he replied. It was not a question. "All the talk of change we have had when last we met, it is all down to one being. One man. He has great power over you."

"He does not have…" Keren began, then realised the elf was correct.

"And yet, judging from his manner when I saw him walking from this place a few moments hence, it would appear you also have power over him, for he was much shaken. I was surprised and confused when I arrived here to see that it was you that had caused him to be so."

"You spoke to him?" Keren wondered.

"Nay, not a word was said, do not fear," he reassured her.

She was silent.

"I – I did not understand such love, before," Legolas began. "But now I see you, I begin to."

He took a step closer, and reached out to touch her hand as if to comfort her, but appeared to hastily change his mind.

"Seeing you thus," he went on, "I fear it, for it has not brought you happiness. And you are mortal, you will not have to endure the pain for long, whereas I…"

She frowned at his blunt words as he continued.

"An eternity. Even sailing to Eressea I would not escape."

Keren realised she had not yet discovered if the elf was married, but his statement made it seem that that had not yet come to pass. She had not had the courage to ask how old he was at their past meetings, but, now that she did, she felt somehow it was not a good time to ask. She sensed the answer would unsettle and concern her – thousands of years seemed impossible to face without love, despite the fact he did not seem to welcome it.

"My apologies." His soft voice brought her eyes back to his face, still and solemn in the moonlight. "You have had a traumatic encounter, I should be offering you words of comfort, not seeking them for myself."

Keren was surprised that an immortal being would admit to looking for sympathy. She knew not what to say to Legolas. She rather wished to just be left alone. But then what would she do? She could tell him everything, but everything felt too raw. He had guessed the crux of the matter anyway it seemed.

"My troubles must seem very small and unimportant to you," was the thing she found herself saying.

"No trouble is small," he replied. "And I see that something profound has happened to you. It is not for one person to measure another's sadness and compare it to their own. I see you are sad, so I offer you my…"

He seemed unsure how to proceed, for indeed, she thought, the situation was an awkward one. Keren could not imagine that many elves had had to deal with a jilted human.

"I offer you my friendship," he decided upon, "if you will have it. We seem to keep meeting, and I would prefer it if each time we met it was as friends."

"Is this because you said I am an elf-friend?" Keren answered eventually. She had almost forgotten his strange name for her.

"Nay, Keren, although I still hold that that is the truth," Legolas said. "This is because I wish to offer you my support and protection, and my company when and if you desire it."

Keren was silent as she studied his face. This situation seemed far more formal and serious than simply deciding she liked another human well enough to be their friend.

But I could use a friend now, it seems, she thought, and so far he has spoken fair, if a little bewilderingly.

"That would be nice," she said simply. "Thank you."

"If you wish…" He began to move toward her, but frowned and stopped himself, looking to the starry sky. "Nay, no matter."

"What?" Keren took a small step nearer to the elf, away from the wall that had previously been helping to hold her up.

Legolas shook his head.

"I ask, perhaps, too much of you, it is no matter."

"What were you going to ask?"

Another look up to the stars from the elf, then a frown that she felt was almost directed at her.

"You remember our first meeting, when I offered – I offered to show you what I meant when I said I was sure you were connected to my people?"

"Yes. I ran away."

"You did." He frowned again, but then gave a funny little shrug of one shoulder. "But we know each other a little better now, and I trust you are more certain that I would not hurt you."

There was a little pause before Keren agreed.

"Then I would like to show you now. It is not much. Taking my hand would suffice. When we touch, I believe you will feel something that will, I hope, convince you that I speak truth, and that you are indeed an elf-friend. A true one, not just a friend of mine."

He came closer still, and held out his right hand. She studied it in the half-light. It was large, with strong and graceful fingers. The skin was pale and smooth from what she could see, as if he had never known a days' work in his life, and perhaps as a prince that was true, although she could not believe it – elves were notoriously good at maintaining physical perfection after all.

"What will I feel?" she asked.

"That I cannot say, for truth to tell I have not witnessed such a moment before, merely heard tell of such things. You may feel nothing, and then I will feel decidedly foolish."

She gave an almost inaudible huff of amusement at that – still, more than she had felt capable of.

My life gets stranger by the minute, was Keren's thought as she placed her small palm on top of his, and felt his fingers close around hers, encasing her whole hand.

There was no immediate great wave of feeling or understanding, there were no strange sounds or murmurings in her head, and she felt a little disappointed, for she had begun to expect something rather spectacular. Then she registered that she could feel something unexpected – his fingers were calloused and rough, not at all how they had looked, and his hand was warm. She had been anticipating smooth, cold perfection. Instead the elven hand felt… human.

"Will you perhaps come back down to the feast and dance with your new friend?" he asked her softly, a strange testing look in his eyes.

"That would be… nice," she said again, feeling a little stupid. She knew Faramir would be there, but suddenly she felt as if she had an ally against his presence, someone who could stand between her and him if she felt overwhelmed.

"Do not let one man rule your destiny," Legolas went on. "Come and dance, and drink, and have fun. Learn to live again."

At those words a dam broke and Keren was sobbing – with sadness, and relief that at least now she had an answer, that she could begin rebuilding life, just with a steward-shaped hole in it. It would be hard, but she would live. Strong arms came around her, and she felt herself pressed up against Legolas's chest as he held her and let her weep. She had not expected this closeness, but did not feel the need to back away. She had found someone who cared for her honestly and simply, and whose friendship was very much needed. She pulled away slightly and looked up into his face.

"Thank you," she whispered. She did not feel an ounce of shyness as she lay her head on his shoulder. "You are strange, but you are wonderful."

He went still, then slowly she felt his hand rest on her head, before warm lips kissed her brow. They stood silently together for some time, her quiet tears still falling, his arms holding her close to him. Neither knew what the other was thinking, but there was a calm acceptance that a strong bond had been formed.

"An elf-friend indeed," he said, as he let her go.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "I am afraid I did not feel a thing, at least nothing out of the ordinary."

He merely grinned and beckoned her to follow as he led the way back down to the festivities.

"There she ish!" shouted Pippin, pointing wildly in her direction. "Pal! Pal, I'vounder!"

Keren looked over to her sister who was standing awkwardly still in the corner of the room, looking Keren anxiously up and down. She walked over to Palen, who had not appeared to register the elf beside her.

"I am sorry I have been so long," she said. "I needed some air."

"You have been hours," Palen replied. "And we were already outside when you ran off. It has got full dark since you left! Where have you been? We have all been worried, even Mithrandir told me – "

She stopped abruptly.

"What did he say?" Keren asked. "About me?"

"Just to look out for you," Palen said.

"I am alright, I will tell you later. I had help, Legolas – " She turned to face the elf, but he had vanished into the crowd. She felt a twinge of disappointment – he had offered her a dance, something which would have raised her spirits greatly.

"The elf?" Palen said, wide eyed. "Again?"

"He is a friend."

"But still a man. Keren, you cannot just disappear for hours with one man then return with another, how do you suppose that looks?"

Keren was silent – she assumed Palen must have seen Faramir following her.

"All is well, nothing happened."

Not even a half-truth, Keren thought. But not a total lie either.

Legolas had just entered the room when he felt a gentle hand at his back.

Greenleaf. I would speak with you.

A low, gentle female voice in his mind. It had been there before, in Lothlorien.

He nodded and followed the Lady Galadriel into a quieter corner.

"The young human intrigues you," she said, aloud this time.

"She does, my lady," he replied.

"This is not your first meeting."

"Our third. She has always been distressed when I see her, I believe I can help her."

"I am sure you can, but be wary, for she is a strange thing. There is much of her tale that I can relate, but not yet. The time will come when she will know, and it will be her place, not mine, to tell it to you. For you and she are entwining already, it is beginning, you know this, you feel it."

"I – " Legolas was unsure if he heard the Lady correctly. "I know not what you mean."

"She is an elf-friend." Galadriel did not ask a question.

"She is. I have proof, although she, I believe, is unaware of what occurred."

"Proof?"

"I asked her a question in Silvan, whilst her hand was in mine. She replied, fluently, but did not seem to even notice."

Galadriel raised an eyebrow.

"Such things are not unheard of, although rare," she said. "This does not mean she will be able to speak your tongue at all times – she must learn it, for the moment has passed. Nor does it mean that she has recognised your bond."

Legolas's eyes flared at hearing what had so suddenly and unexpectedly happened brought into reality by the Lady's words. He did not know how to proceed, for he was still unable to come to terms with what he had experienced but minutes ago. He could not explain it to himself, nor how the Lady knew, but he knew what had occurred. He had stepped out onto the balcony and seen Keren, in a gown the colour of the forest. The bright lights of the city below were casting a long shadow behind her, almost to his feet. She looked at that moment like a maiden out of the oldest myths, like nature itself, part of the earth, part of history, sprung from the soil like a young tree, like a goddess of the ancient forests and silent woodland groves. Her hair was the colour of shadow and soil, her skin the white of the snow that fell on his homeland in winter. She had starlight in her eyes, made brighter by her tears, and her fair brow, like Elbereth, was crowned by the stars themselves. He had been terrified, for in that moment he had loved her, and known he was lost.

I – I did not understand such love, before. But now I see you, I begin to.

Keren had not gleaned the true meaning of his words, and he was relieved.

"You know your own mind," Galadriel began. "You know what you felt when you beheld her tonight. Again it must, as to how and why, be a tale of her telling. But she is not awakened to it yet, she has been following what she believes is the right path, and it is up to her whether she takes this one instead. This may be painful for you, but you know that pain is your lot regardless, for she is not immortal. Spare both of you pain for now – she must not know that you are awakened. She must not know of your regard for her."

The pipes and drums were loud and merry, as were two hobbits as they danced with Palen and Keren. They even managed to convince Frodo, a formerly accomplished dancer, to hobble round a little despite his healing wounds, and keep a smile on his face. Palen could not help noticing that her sister's eyes would often flick around the room, searching no doubt for a sign of Faramir. He, she was pleased but surprised to notice, did not seem to be present. The King and Queen joined in with many of the dances – at one point they were in the same circle as Keren and Palen, who suddenly found their natural ability to dance desert them as they watched the Lady Arwen glide around effortlessly, despite, they assumed, not knowing the steps.

A particularly lively dance came to an end, with much improvising from the hobbits, who were also not familiar with the dances of Gondor. No one especially seemed to mind their whirling limbs, and occasional stumbles, as their large bare feet collided with ladies' dainty shoes.

Keren was actually laughing with happiness, something which still felt very rare to her, and certainly something which she was not expecting to happen tonight under the circumstances. She whirled and turned in her own circle, the wine she had drunk on her return having gone immediately to her head due to her eating very little at the feast. She inevitably crashed into someone.

"Oof – oh forgive me, I am so sorry," she said laughingly to the air, until the stern face came into focus before her. "Mithrandir!"

He huffed with what seemed to her like disappointment, shook his head, frowning, and swept away, his white robes flowing behind him.

"That name for him is out of date, Keren," a soft voice said behind her.

Another elf stood before her, female, tall and coldly beautiful. Her long fair hair was past her waist, and her eyes were grey as slate.

"Grey pilgrim he once was, now he is resplendent in white," she said, which Keren assumed was an explanation. "But of course, he has many names."

"How did you know my name? I have only met one of your kind. Although… perhaps he has spoken of me?" Keren felt a little embarrassed to admit that she could have possibly thought Legolas had mentioned her to his people.

"Legolas Thranduilion has spoken of you, but he did not mention your name," the strange lady replied. "I am the Lady of the Golden Wood – you may call me Galadriel."

Keren opened her mouth to say that the lady had not answered her question, but the elf continued smoothly before she could draw breath.

"You will have many questions about what I shall say, but I may not answer them. You must just listen and, if you wish, do as I suggest. When the old King of Rohan is taken on his final journey, you must journey with him. Many of your new friends will join you. Some will be there who you may wish were not. But many will stay behind – your sister, your father. It is up to you whether you follow this path, but it may be beneficial to you if you do. You perhaps already feel, in your heart, that this city is not serving your best interests. You long for an adventure, for great change. This I can give you. Think on it. Our paths shall cross again if you choose to leave, for I shall also be journeying north to my home."

"But what – "

"I do not know what you shall find, but I know what I hope will come to pass. Your past is your future, Keren, daughter of Orwen."

"How did you know my mother's name?" Keren's words fell on the retreating back of the strange, tall elf. "Who are you?"

"That is Galadriel," said a now familiar voice, and a welcome face swam into view. "It is best not to ask her questions, for if she wishes you to have an answer she will already have given it."

"Legolas!" Keren said. "Will you dance with me now? Where did you go? I've been looking for you."

"I – I was speaking to the Lady myself."

"Oh." She did not know what else to say, but she did wonder if the mysterious elf had left him as confused as herself.

"The next dance shall be mine I trust?" For a second his eyes flickered to the side, as if cautious of being watched, but Keren later thought she had imagined it, for no such event occurred again.

She waited impatiently while the current dance finished – she was having a surprisingly enjoyable evening. The alcohol certainly helped, although she was desperately trying to hide her mild inebriation. When the musicians fell silent, Legolas held out his hand once more, which she took with pleasure, and led her to a space in the formation. She was hoping for another lively dance with many jumps and twirls, but to her embarrassment a stately, formal tune began, one which required grace, elegance and the ability to slowly walk in a straight line without looking ridiculous. She was a natural dancer, but she was not feeling quite as balanced as usual. Legolas did not help by saying close to her ear that he did not know the Gondorian court dances so she would have to instruct him where to go.

She frowned a little in pretend exasperation, although secretly worried that they were about to make fools of themselves. She was aware that an elf dancing with a human, other than the King and Queen, would no doubt draw curious eyes anyway.

Legolas thankfully was dancing as if he had been doing that particular dance all his life after just one repetition, and was soon leading her, and keeping her in a straight line. But then came the section that Keren had forgotten about – the lifts.

The dancers were assembled all in one long line down the centre of the room. There was nowhere to hide. She had no doubt that the elf was strong, and she was small and light, but still she was concerned that in front of all she may grow dizzy and nauseous with the effect of being thrown around, the wine roiling inside her.

She only had time to shoot Legolas a quick warning glance before grabbing his arm and placing it around her waist, then putting her hands on his shoulders.

"I'm going to jump, you have to spin me round," she gabbled quickly with only two beats of music to go. "Quick, now, now!"

And she was flying. The elf timed it perfectly with the other couples, keeping a sharp eye out for when to return Keren to the ground. She landed lightly and gracefully as he controlled her descent.

She gave a little breathless laugh.

"Seven more of those and we will have done alright," she said.

The next lift was more successful as both had more time to prepare. Both of his strong arms held her firmly a little lower down, and she jumped higher, pressing down on his shoulders. She was much higher than before, and spotted the gleeful faces of the hobbits as they watched.

By the time they had worked their way down the line ready for the final lift it was truly perfected. They had moved closer together and Keren felt a little sad each time they broke apart. When the time came she placed her hands on his shoulders, but was surprised when he pulled her closer so that their entire bodies touched. She did not have time to react before she jumped and he lifted her high into the air, his hands tight around her small waist. She felt such joy and freedom that she threw her head back and laughed as she was spun around in the air. Legolas could not resist holding her a little longer than the music permitted, as it made his heart glad to see her enjoying herself. Never before had he seen her laugh and smile like this. Keren was oblivious to the eyes watching them as the pair seemed to forget the others in the room, she so much higher than the other ladies due to Legolas's long limbs. But Legolas knew they were being watched, by two pairs of grey eyes in particular – the Lady he was aware of why, but why Gandalf was studying them so intently he did not know. Reluctantly he lowered Keren to the ground, letting her body slide down his, as slowly as he dared. The different motion caused her to look down at him, and he held her gaze until she was on her feet. His hands stayed around her waist, and her hands came to rest on his chest.

She was so small next to him. How he wished to cradle her head to his heart in front of all, and tell her everything, even if he could not explain it yet. She was looking up at him, a small frown pulling at her brows.

"I had not noticed your eyes before," she said. "They are grey."

There was a slight pause as she looked down at the ground. When her eyes met his again they were wet with tears.

"Like his," she whispered. "I cannot even escape him with you."

She turned to run, but he grabbed her arm.

"Keren, do not run from me again."

"I do not want to cause a scene here, everyone is watching us," she said hastily.

"Then stay, stay and have fun. Although perhaps no more wine for you."

She gulped and chuckled a little at that.

"Do you think I will be alright Legolas? Truly? Do you think I will find someone else?"

He looked down at her steadily.

"First you must find yourself, and make peace and be happy with who you are."

She blinked, his words reminding her of the Lady Galadriel's strange parting comment.

Your past is your future, Keren, daughter of Orwen.

"I think I must leave Gondor," she said.

Author note: Ok so can I ask people's opinion? I have always planned to spilt this story into three parts. I am, I think, two chapters away from ending the first 'book'. Would people want me to carry on with the next two books under the title 'A face in the crowd' i.e. what you are reading now, and simply split the tale using the chapter headings eg. book two, chapter one? Or would you prefer me to start new 'stories' with separate titles so it is clearer to find the part that you want? That would mean separately following or fav-ing all three 'stories'. I'm not really sure what is best. I'm tempted to leave it as one super long story for simplicity, but that means that the title of the first 'book' is the only one that new readers will see, and tbh 'a face in the crowd' isn't that great as it is really only relevant to the first portion of the story. What say you? I don't want people to think they are 'sequels' as I have already planned the whole story, it's just breaking it up. I hope that makes sense!

ALSO (sorry but it's been a long time as you know, and I have a lot to say! If there are any artists reading this who have a tiny bit of spare time - I would one day love to see some of my scenes and characters brought to life. There I said it - you don't ask you don't get haha. I thought it was worth a try - please get in touch if this is something you would be interested in helping with, just for fun! x