Author note: Many apologies *again* for the delay. But good news - I have finished the first book! This means two chapters posted today! It's taken me A YEAR AND THREE MONTHS to get this book done, which is super frustrating as way back in July last year I plotted all the way to the end of the trilogy. I hope I don't take as long with the next two books, but I'm not making any promises ;)

Thanks for all your feedback re. whether to split the story. I've decided to keep it as one big document so it's all in one place. I will not be changing the name, and each new book will simply be 'Book 2' and 'Book 3'. I will update the chapter titles so you don't lose which book you're in!

Zip001, AxidentlGoddess, Hawaiichick, Certh, Guest E, Rachetg, allebiouqruop, Me and jshaw0624 thanks so much for your reviews - I'm almost at 100 now! My favourite part of all this is reading your reactions and suggestions. I love that people take the time to leave great, helpful, kind reviews!

WickedGreene13 - You win best reaction haha. I've messaged you about artwork, so exciting!

Thanks Zip001, TetiSherii, Anastasia Slytherin, Woman of Letters, trouvaille, LovelyBoA, allebiouqruop, Raelan87 and anaylen for the follows and favs.

Chapter seventeen – Rohan

Eowyn was tired. It had been a long final stretch of their journey, and she looked up at the white walls towering above the plains with great relief. A sideways glance at her brother's drawn face however reminded her that they were here for an unpleasant, if honourable, task.

In just a few days' time, she and Eomer would undertake the journey again, this time bearing the corpse of her uncle, travelling with him on his final ride home. Many of their new friends and acquaintances would join them, to be present as Theoden was laid to rest in the royal cemetery at the foot of Edoras.

But another event was to occur there, one which only three people knew of. She had tentatively informed Eomer of her and Faramir's desire to marry, and he had insisted that on the very day they lay their uncle to rest, the same day that he was welcomed as the new King of Rohan, they must plight their troth in front of all.

"For it will bring all of our people joy, I know it, to see you so happy," he had said.

And she was, she was happy. She was to see Faramir in a matter of minutes, the man who had finally brought her to life.

She had loved before, deeply, unrequitedly, but she had had no joy in it. Aragorn was to her what an elf was to Merry, she realised with some humour. Too different, too distant. Faramir was her equal, her mirror, somewhat constrained by his position and fears, like her. And yet he had a simple wonder for life that she had not formerly possessed. He had taught her many things in the short time they had spent together, and she had known, as they stood together in the face of total evil, that she had found a true companion.

It was slow progress, she knew, for she had yet to shake her stiff, somewhat formal manner around him sometimes. But there had been days when they had laughed together until she had cried, and it was with a hidden, secret smile that she rode towards him now.

For Keren, gone were the days of not feeling, and working automatically – now she felt greatly, sometimes a little too much, and could swing from happiness to grief quickly, leaving all who knew her confused and a little worried. But she had confided to Palen that she would rather live thus for now, rather than return to the horrible state of nothing-ness. Now when she worked she truly listened, and felt, and was greatly pleased when she helped someone on the path to wellness.

She could not say for certain what had brought about this change, but she had a suspicion it was to do with her instructions from the strange Lady Galadriel, which she had so far kept secret from all except Palen.

She knew not what was coming, but at least it was something.

It was with wonder and a little annoyance that the warden had accepted her request to leave the employ of the Houses.

"But, Keren, you are one of my best healers, and at such a young age you could become highly renowned for your skill given time," he had said, bewildered at her sudden desire to leave.

"I know, sir, but – "

"And we will miss you not only as a healer but as a friendly face about the place," he went on, interrupting. "I cannot understand what has brought this on. Are you unhappy here?"

"The Houses are my home, sir," she had said. "I have not always been happy here, but that is nothing to do with my position, or the work, or any of the people here."

"Then why?"

"I just feel it is the right time to leave, to… to try other paths," she said blandly. "Even though I know not what I shall find, I would forever regret it if I do not try something new. I have a strange yearning to see new places and learn new things, even though I know it means leaving home."

"But where will you go?" he asked.

"Perhaps to Dol Amroth." She plucked a place of Gondor from thin air, for if she mentioned that she was travelling to Rohan, and from there who knew, she thought he would question her sanity.

"Well there is trade to be found there, to be sure," he said reluctantly, "but I would worry for your safety. How would you travel?"

"I have a friend in the city who wishes to visit there," she lied, easily.

"And how long will you be gone for?" He was becoming exasperated.

"That I cannot answer easily," she said, and she knew this was to be the sticking point, for she guessed that her position at the Houses would no longer be open to her on her return. "But… I am hoping to return. My family are here, I could not be parted from Palen for too long."

"What does she say to all this?" he wondered.

"Not much," Keren admitted, for Palen had learnt not to be surprised where Keren was concerned now, and took it for granted that her sister had made up her mind to leave. "She is not happy, but she does not wish to hold me back."

He sat silently, his hands clasped before his lips, elbows on the table, with his dark eyes looking at her shrewdly.

"Well, sir?" she asked hesitantly.

He sighed, and seemed to think a short while before speaking.

"I do not know what to say to you Keren," he finally said. "You wish to go, and indeed I cannot force you to stay, I am not a slave driver. You chose to come to us as a child, and now you are a woman you are choosing to leave. I am… sad that this is what you wish, but I have to accept your choice, as imprudent and unwise as I believe it to be."

Keren felt a lump rise in her throat at the disappointment from the strict, stern man she had come to like and respect. She knew that one day soon he would find out where she was truly travelling to, and question her lies, and no doubt be even more disappointed.

"I am sorry, sir," she said quietly. "I will be very sad to leave, and I hope that if I return the door will be open for me to return to my post. I know that is maybe too much to ask but – "

"Our doors will always be open to you Keren, I promise," he said. "Just stay safe."

Tears were shed by both Keren and Palen at their parting, for they were very close, and knew not when they would be reunited. A small part of Palen worried if they ever would, so strange had her sister's life become.

Keren had gone to her father separately, telling him of her plans, to which he had shown surprise, and, she thought, a little fear.

"You'll not be going north?" was the first thing he had said.

"I will go as far as Rohan," she had replied. "It is a great honour."

"And from there? You'll be coming back here?"

"I – I do not know, perhaps I shall travel further north."

She did not realise until the moment she said it, but once it was out of her mouth she knew that that was what she desired to do. It would never come to pass, for she knew no-one to travel with, nor had any knowledge of the land beyond Gondor other than what the hobbits had described to her. To venture past Rohan on her own would be certain death. And yet something within called her to dare, or at least acknowledge the desire to see the wider world.

"No child of mine is going beyond the Entwash, nor do I even want you in sight of it," Malerond said quickly.

"But my grandmother was from the North!"

"Your mother's mother, not mine, and she was from far beyond the 'Wash."

"From Bree?" Keren wondered whether her father would finally tell her more of her mother's family.

"Aye, but that means naught to me," he said. "It is on no map that I have seen."

"But she must have said something about it."

"Your mother was never there, her family left before she was born."

"I know all this," Keren said, frustrated. "And then mother was born here, and her mother died in childbirth."

Her father was still, opened his lips a fraction, then shut them tightly again.

"Father?" Keren pushed for more information, which she knew he had.

"Your mother was born on the road," he said reluctantly. "I know not where. Your grandmother perished, and I think some others of her family did not reach Gondor either. But they knew what they risked – travelling is dangerous and hard on the body. I know naught else of it all. Do not go looking for answers. The lands to the North are vast and beyond our reckoning, and there will be nothing to find. Once your business is done with the high folk of Rohan you are to return home."

Keren blinked, taking in this, the longest speech she had heard him make for years.

"Thank you, father," she said, for not only had he given her information of her family, he had also silently given his permission for her to leave the city. She wondered why she thought she had needed it as she turned to leave. She felt a strange tug of her heart and pushed it down.

"Goodbye, daughter," he said with a nod of his head, as if she was an untrustworthy stranger, with all her talk of travel and strange lands.

Maleron had not been so afraid for his daughter in his life, and now perhaps she was lost to him forever. Danger lay beyond their borders, strange lands and people, and he knew far better than Keren what grief they could bring.

"Behold, the King Elessar is come! The Forest of Druadan he gives to Ghan-buri-Ghan and to his folk, to be their own for ever; and hereafter let no man enter it without their leave!"

They were in the Grey Wood in the region of Anorien, but Keren could not even point out on a map where exactly that was. She felt foolish and ignorant, for it was only their second day out of Minas Tirith.

She looked all around her as the sound of drums rolled around the large group of travellers, answering Elessar's heralds, but she could see nothing. She was surrounded by the best warriors of both Rohan and Gondor, plus of the elven folk, but a shiver of fear went up her spine at the sound of those unseen drums.

Unlike on her journey to Cormallen, this time she had not looked back at the city– not out of lack of care, but more because she knew if she had she would have run all the way back to the Houses.

It was a solemn journey and a strange group, in which she spent all of her time at the back of, with very little company. All of her friends had positions of honour close to the wain carrying the body of Theoden – which she felt fortunate avoiding the sight and smell of, the king having been dead for over four months. Her healer's realistic, non-romantic brain pitied Merry, who was sat atop the wain in his rightful place as esquire, and hoped that the wind was blowing away from him.

Eowyn was also close to the King, riding with her brother just in front of the wain, and on the other side of her was Faramir. During the day enough people had separated her from him, but she was sure that when they reached their destination their paths would eventually cross. Riding before him was his new guard captain, Beregond. Keren had not spoken to him on the journey, and slowly had come to realise their friendship would end when he left Gondor for Ithilien with Faramir.

At night she stuck firmly with the few servants that had been granted the honour of travelling with their illustrious masters, but that first night they had not been talkative. They seemed unsure as to why she was there, and she spun a quick story about a healer being necessary on the journey, which she knew would not wash, as among the elves were some of the finest healers ever born. All were too polite to question her, but she knew she would not make any friends.

She had some idea of how long they were to be travelling from the hobbits, for she had of course informed them that she was also to go to Rohan. They were excited to have her company, for it meant the time to say farewell was a little farther off. From Rohan they would return home. Already they had had to part from Palen, never to meet again.

The crystal was now in a small pouch tied to a belt around her waist, no longer a weight in her pocket that was all too easy to touch, but she had feared to leave it behind for anyone to find.

Sadly, she could not see much prospect of being able to see her friends on the journey, and if their reckonings were correct she had at least twelve days to endure without their company. Luckily the weather was warm, and she had so far had no complaints about sleeping under the stars. She just hoped the servants would thaw a little.

In the end they were on the road for fifteen days, maintaining a slow pace out of respect. Keren had tried to keep track of the passing of time, but was so tired by the time they finally reached Edoras that she had lost count, and could barely lift her head to look around her. She was not used to travelling long distances, and she only dimly registered a craggy hill rising in the middle of the plain, with what looked like simple wooden huts with roofs of thatch atop it. As they drew nearer her tired eyes tricked her, for it seemed that the largest of the huts had instead a roof of gleaming gold.

She had not won any of her travelling companions around, so had no one to exclaim to in surprise, her friends all still way ahead. It had been a lonely and uncomfortable fortnight and she would be sorely glad of a bed and a bath, and the chance to see her companions again, but was not sure if she would get any of those in this strange place.

She knew she was a long distance from Minas Tirith now, and that this must be Edoras, the nearest thing to a city that Rohan had. Strange mounds rose up from the plains by the gates at the foot of the hill, and from there a rough road rose steadily winding up through the town.

Through these gates the party went and, while a short distance to the top compared to Minas Tirith, it felt a long trek to Keren, who was ready to fall out of the saddle. Many eyes watched the procession as it went past buildings large and small.

It was so very different to home. Her thoughts flitted briefly to when she might see that home again, but was distracted by the procession coming to a halt.

"What's happening?" she asked the man to her right after a couple of minutes of stillness.

"They'll be getting the King into the Hall I expect," he replied in the strange accent which she had learnt over the fortnight was common to the working folk of Rohan.

Shortly after they began moving again, and Keren was led to the stables. Saddle sore and with legs wobbling, her and the older woman she had been sharing a horse with for most of the journey dismounted and stretched their tired muscles.

"Rohan horses are the finest," the woman, Eadgith, said, "and Leofric has carried us well."

She frowned at Keren for not showing enough gratitude, but Keren was not a natural horse lover or rider, especially after a fortnight in the saddle.

"Come then, we must to Meduseld," Eadgith said, "though where they will put you and what they will do with you I know not."

Keren's hope for a bed and bath fell dramatically, and she had pictures of her sleeping on the floor on straw or rushes, like the lowest of servants. She was not proud, but nor was she used to not having luxuries like a private room. She gritted her teeth, forced open her tired eyes and followed Eadgith up to the golden hall – Meduseld, home to the Lords of the Mark.

On her first night in Edoras, Keren dreamt of the Houses of Healing, but they were not how she knew them. She could not find her room, and the corridors were long and black, and whenever she ran from door to door they were slammed in her face. The last one, however, opened. Behind it was a strange grey creature with bulging eyes, which jumped out and made her scream before it began poking her in the arm viciously.

"Keren! Psst! Keren!" Pippin's voice sounded in her ear, and she opened her eyes with a start. "At last I've found you," he said, and stopped poking her arm. "What have you been doing?"

"Ssh, Pip," she whispered, for all slept around her. "What are you doing here?"

"I could say the same for you," he replied quietly. "You have told them you're not a servant?"

"Well…" She had not, for she knew no one would believe her. Besides, she was far from grand enough to stay in the buildings that housed all the fine folk.

But nor was she accustomed to having to fight for a space by the fire on the floor of the great hall of Meduseld, bedding down with almost a full roomful of servants, so Pippin had found her curled around herself in a cold corner of the hall.

"But this simply will not do!" Pippin cried.

"Please be quiet Pip," she begged. "What are you doing up at this hour anyway? There has been no feasting tonight. They are all due to start work when the sun rises, and that cannot be far off, we cannot wake them."

"And what will happen to you when the cock crows, you'll go and start sweeping floors and cooking like the rest of them? Surely that can't be why you journeyed with us?"

"Oh, I do not know what is going on," she said crossly, still rattled by her dream. "I do not know what I expected, but I admit, it was not this."

She sighed, fully awake now, and aware they were causing people around to stir. She got up, stretching out her back which was aching from the journey and from a night on the hard earth floor.

"Come on," she whispered, and together they went outside into the fresh air of the early dawn. The guard at the door gave them a curious look but let them pass.

"Just why are you up so early, Pip?" she asked as they sat on a wall.

He was silent for a time, but then turned to her and spoke quietly.

"Can't sleep," he said. "Bad dreams."

"Oh? Is everything alright?"

"Oh yes," he nodded with a smile. "But sometimes it is like my mind cannot process all that has occurred since I left home, especially as some of it has been, well, not very nice, and I lie awake, or I dream… bad memories."

"Well I can… Is there anything I can do?" Keren asked.

"Not really." Pippin sighed. "Although you can promise me that you will find a way to see us, and to not work too hard, if at all."

"I am not sure I can promise that, Pip."

"Well then, we shall just have to find a way," he said.

Two more nights passed, both of which Keren spent on the floor of the hall. Her days were spent awkwardly, for no one quite knew where to put her. She occasionally assisted with menial tasks in preparation for the funeral, but never anything that took her within the presence of her friends, or indeed of Faramir and Eowyn, which she supposed was a blessing.

She had realised that if she kept herself to herself, and not enquire what was to happen, then no one would approach her. Indeed, most people thought she was strange, and knew not why she was there. Many had assumed she was a servant, but she had briefly been seen talking to one of the halfling friends of the King. Folk tended to leave her be.

She found herself wandering alone for a lot of the time, and she felt great freedom exploring the streets, and viewing the great plains and mountains from the vantage point of the city on its natural hill.

Meals were eaten altogether in the hall of Meduseld, but she was always at the very far end near the draught of the door, out of hearing and sight of anyone she knew.

The third day, the tenth of August, as the sun set, was the time that she had been dreading. All were to be present for the burial of the old king, but, in the end, Keren's fears of being seen by Faramir were unfounded, for it seemed the whole of the city was in attendance. She herself was nearer to the front than most, having joined the crowded procession at its start. She did not look towards the flash of gold which she knew was Eowyn's hair, nor the dark figure next to her, the familiar raven hair blowing in the warm breeze coming off the plain.

She watched instead solemnly as Theoden, laid out on a bier in full armour, with his sword clasped to his chest and many smaller arms and flowers laid at his feet and all around, began his final journey through the city. All the nobles of the Mark followed close, with men at arms before and behind, then came the honoured guests from Gondor with the elves.

As the bier approached the site of its final resting place, high on the shoulders of Eomer and three of the finest men chosen from the King's Riders, all were silent in the crowd. Keren watched as Theoden disappeared from the people's sight, and a stone was placed firmly in the entrance to whatever lay beneath the earth, leaving him in the dark, to find his way alone to the halls of his ancestors.

There was a flurry amongst the crowd as a group of riders all atop white horses began to emerge from the west. Slowly they formed a circle around the tomb, facing outwards as if to guard the old King. Keren wondered what was happening, and how long they would remain there, when suddenly one lone rider's voice burst into song. Keren did not understand the words, for he was singing in Rohan's own curious language, but she felt the grief of the crowd. The voice was soon joined by many others, and the men on their horses began to ride around the tomb with heads bowed. Many began weeping. She glanced over to her friends – the fellowship were gathered close to Eomer. But Merry was not with them. Instead she spotted a small figure, previously masked by the horses, stood all alone, at the very foot of the mound, his head held high but his face wet with tears.

When the sun had fully set, and the torches had been lit, the company turned from the royal graves and wended their way back up the hill. Many headed homewards, but the servants of Meduseld, along with Keren, went with the party of nobles and elves up to the Hall, where there was to be a great feast.

The servants all split off and went about their duties, most running to the kitchens to begin serving ale and wine. Keren stood awkwardly in the doorway, feeling once more like she had no place. Her best option would be to seek out her friends, but she did not want to be seen as presuming that her place was with them and the fine folk. Deciding she could not block the door until one of them happened to find her, she turned instead to go to the kitchens, where at least she could be useful. Perhaps in the act of serving them drinks she could see them.

She turned quickly about to go against the flow of the crowd, not heeding who was around her, when a small arm flew up and grabbed her elbow.

"Oh, no you don't," Pippin said. "Tonight you're one of us."

"Pip! Oh, I'm so glad you found me!" Keren cried, and knelt down to hug him tightly. "I've had no idea what to do with myself these past few days."

More strange looks were thrown their way as they drew themselves into an out of the way corner of the hall to speak.

"I'm only sorry we could not get to each other sooner," he said. "It's been maddening to think sometimes we were even in the same room but we could not speak. There was never a moment to get to see you after the first night. Although…"

"What?" Keren asked, as the hobbit's face grew thoughtful.

"The Lady Galadriel, she asked me what we had spoken of then."

"Oh?"

"It was most odd, because I'd never told her I'd seen you. I said I had just wanted to talk to you, and to see that you were alright, and to find a way for you to spend your time here with us. And she smiled at me, and put her hand on my cheek, and said I had a kind heart, but I must leave you to yourself until the right moment. And I said, 'how will I know what the right moment is?' And she said something about an open door, and two choices, and I don't know what else. And I saw you standing dithering in the doorway just now so I took that as close enough."

"Well…" Keren tried to take in his rambling speech, but decided that she would never understand the words of elves so might as well give up on gleaning any meaning from them. Pippin seemed to have had the same thought.

"I think she does it on purpose," he said. "And it's not for us to concern ourselves with tonight. Now the King has been laid to rest it is time for feasting and drinking, and I am determined to have a good time."

"I too!" Keren agreed whole-heartedly. She felt that with Pippin and the others by her side she could face Faramir tonight. The shadow of home and all she had left behind seemed brighter and more real, as if reminding her that she could always return if she wished.

"Come on, then," Pippin said, and took her past the table where she had sat with the servants, all the way to the far end of the hall.

Meduseld had been made magnificent for the occasion, with bright hangings and the light of hundreds of torches and candles all along the walls and tables banishing the shadows, and the fire burning in the centre of the room.

They sat on a long table near the dais, opposite one where several elves had begun to gather. Keren found herself staring at them, like so many, for she still was not used to so much beauty in one place.

Queen Arwen and Lady Galadriel sat beside each other, both snow pale and grey eyed, and yet as unlike each other as day was to night. A male elf with silver hair was next to Galadriel, a quiet hand on hers.

Her husband? Keren wondered.

She remembered Legolas had spoken about love on that sad and strange night on the balcony, and he had seemed completely baffled by it. She knew that elves married, and had children, but did they, could they, love as humans did? Although the new Queen of Gondor looked blissfully happy, she could not imagine the Lady Arwen crying over anybody as she had, and wondered if, for elves, love was somehow easier. Less messy.

Beside Arwen was an empty seat for Elessar, who had chosen not to share the dais with the King of Rohan, for it was not his country, nor his feast.

Beyond Arwen was a stern looking male elf with hair as dark as hers – Keren blinked as she took in another figure from her childhood book of legends, for it had to be Arwen's father, Lord Elrond. Opposite him were his two near-identical sons, that Keren had seen riding out behind Legolas and Gimli to fight with the Host of the West. The sight of them made something mildly painful twinge inside her, for that day watching from the walls of the Houses of Healing shone golden in her memory, as Faramir had stood close to her, their fingertips touching, each feeling a little less alone.

There were just four seats at the high table on the dais. One for Mithrandir, sat already smoking his pipe. One for King Eomer, who would enter last to a fanfare of trumpets and horns. One for Eowyn, in her rightful place to the right of the King, as his sister. And one for…

Keren felt her breathing grow shallow and struggled to master it.

He sat a little awkwardly, one hand clenching the arm of the chair, the other fiddling with the stem of the silver goblet in front of him. He looked often at Eowyn, as if getting comfort from her familiarity. He was wearing clothes of rich, dark blue velvet, which Keren thought had always suited him so well. His dark hair shone in the light of the flames all around. He did not seem to fit in with the scene, Keren thought, for he was Gondor, he was home – silver and stone, not gold and wood, as Rohan felt to her. She knew just by looking at him that he felt as out of place as she did, and she longed to run to his side and beg him to return to what he knew was right. But she could not let herself do that, even if the hall were empty of all except the two of them, for she could not forget how callously he had treated her, even if he claimed it was to protect her.

She realised she was staring, and thankfully Merry's voice snapped her out of her daze before it became obvious.

"Keren! At last!" he said as he took his seat beside Pippin. "How good it is to see you." He seemed a little less energetic than usual, for the day had been hard for him.

"Oh, Merry, how are you?" Keren asked. "I could see how much the King meant to you."

"Aye, as a father I loved him, and my heart aches to see him laid to rest. But I'm proud also. Oh, it's all mixed up."

She knew not what to say, so reached over and placed a gentle hand on his, and he smiled, eyes slightly misty.

Frodo and Sam came in with Elessar, and, as he took his place with the elves, they came and sat opposite Keren and Pippin, followed by Legolas and Gimli. Gimli raised his eyebrows in surprise at her presence, but quickly gave her a gruff nod, and a 'how do ye do?' as they sat.

The hall filled and grew loud with chatter as the food was brought in, and Keren felt guilty at such a solemn occasion for already starting to thoroughly enjoy herself. The food and drink were delicious, and the company was even better. Before long Merry was smiling and laughing with the rest, as all knew the time for mourning was over, and the time for celebrating Theoden's long life had begun.

Keren did not look over to Faramir and Eowyn again. They had not seen her that first time, but she assumed they must have by now, given her close proximity to them. She wondered what their differing thoughts might be on the sight of her.

Confusion, most likely, she thought, for that had been the expression on everyone else's face at seeing her there, minus Galadriel and her husband, whom Legolas told her was called Celeborn, meaning, in Keren's tongue, silver and tall. She could not disagree with that description.

"What does your name mean?" she wondered.

"My name in your speech is Greenleaf," he said, and she smiled at the new, strange image of a tiny new-born elf-baby, a little leaf on a great family tree of woodland elves. "My father and mother were perhaps sentimental… It was spring when I was born, the forest…"

He looked embarrassed.

"I think it is a beautiful name," she said, with a little smile, for seeing the elf amusingly uncomfortable was reassuring.

"Ha!" Gimli gave a shout. "They might as well have called you 'little sapling' and have done with it."

"And does your name have a meaning?" Keren said, to distract from Legolas going coldly pale. Great friends now, were the elf and the dwarf, but she had heard from the hobbits that it had not always been that way.

"Well, ahem, none that you would know in your tongue I'm sure," he mumbled.

"Gimli means 'star'," Legolas said quickly, and hid a smile.

"Oh, very pretty," Keren said simply.

Gimli scowled in a decidedly non-twinkly manner.

"It is time you had a drink, princeling," he said. "Remember your defeat the last night we feasted here."

To which, to Keren's confusion, the rest of the table burst into laughter.