Author note: Well this is it. Over a year in the making. The end of Book 1. Tbh I can't believe I've actually finished it. Thank you all for following Keren for so long. Now to start Book 2! See you all there. x
Chapter Eighteen – Farewell to Edoras
The food continued to come, course after course, washed down with ale or wine. The hobbits and Gimli showed no sign of slowing down, even as Keren was starting to wish for some fresh air as she felt so full she would burst.
"Where do you put it all Pippin?" she asked, as he tried to hide a burp. He shrugged his shoulders.
Merry had told her that feasting in Rohan was notorious, and, like at his home in the Shire, they would likely be up all night if they so wished, and the drinks would not run out. Disappointingly she learned that the people of Rohan were not known for their dances, and there would not be much in the way of it tonight – no space had been cleared.
"But it doesn't matter," Pippin said. "Last time we just danced on the tables."
Keren looked over at Merry, who nodded his head cheerily in agreement.
"Well I shall not be doing that," she said firmly. "Not even if I drink a whole barrel of ale."
Pippin was no doubt about to disagree, when he was interrupted by a rolling of drums and a blast of horns. All turned to the dais to see what was happening.
Eowyn came forward, a highly carved goblet in her hands. She stood beside her brother the King and spoke in her low, clear voice.
"Now we drink to the memory of old Kings, and to the golden future of the new."
She passed the cup solemnly to Eomer, and both stood still and silent as chords from a harp came ringing out, and a man's voice sang of all the Lords of the Mark, from the very founding of the line. Eomer drank from the cup at the mention of his late uncle's name, and Eowyn stepped a little in front of him as the song drew to a close.
"Let all our cups be filled," she cried, and servants sprang forward from the doorways with wine. Eowyn turned now to kneel before her brother. "Hail, Eomer, King of the Mark!"
"Hail, Eomer, King of the Mark!" Keren raised her voice with all the others in the hall, and drank.
Eowyn rose to her feet and turned to go back to her chair, but all eyes were on the new King of Rohan as he put out a gentle hand to stop her. A look passed between them, and she smiled a little and looked towards Faramir.
"Now," Eomer's voice rang out, "this is the funeral feast of Theoden the King; but I will speak ere we go of tidings of joy, for he would not grudge that I should do so, since he was ever a father to Eowyn my sister. Hear then all my guests, fair folk of many realms, such as have never before been gathered in this hall! Faramir, Steward of Gondor, and Prince of Ithilien…"
No, no, no, please, no, was all that Keren could think as Faramir stepped forward, and she wished she could sit down or, better, run.
"…asks that Eowyn Lady of Rohan should be his wife, and she grants it full willing. Therefore they shall be trothplighted before you all."
Faramir took Eowyn's hands in his own and together they stood before everyone in the hall, and Eomer raised his cup in a toast.
"Thus is the friendship of the Mark and of Gondor bound with a new bond, and the more do I rejoice."
All raised their cups to their lips and drank to the happy couple. Keren mechanically followed suit, and she could not tell if she was shaking through fear or anger as, for the tiniest moment, Faramir's eyes met hers. The look was not furtive, nor arrogant, nor cruel. There was no surprise, for he had indeed seen her earlier in the evening. There was an apology there, which only she saw, for he gave no outward sign that it was anything more than a passing glance. Something else was there too, which Keren took a little longer to process – embarrassment and regret.
She tore her gaze away from them and looked down at the table, a stupid, bland smile on her face so as not to draw attention to herself. She felt a gentle hand at her back, and looked at Pippin on her left. But he was standing applauding and cheering with the rest, and of course, he did not know a thing of what had been playing out over these many months.
But the person on her right did. He did not know all, but he knew enough. She turned to Legolas with a thank you in her eyes. He held her gaze a moment, then removed his hand from the small of her back.
I am sorry, his eyes seemed to say, for all that you have been through, and I am sorry that you had to see this.
She took a deep breath, and no tears came, but she still wished to be anywhere else.
"More beer Keren?" Pippin asked, nudging her waist with his elbow, bringing her back to reality.
"Yes please, Pip," she said bleakly.
"Have a whole pint," he said gleefully, and she took it gratefully.
"Pippy-Pip-Pip, pass me the ale please," Keren said, laughing. "Pippin!" She pretended to slam her tankard down on the table. "Another pint, Pippety-Pip!"
"Are you drunk?" her hobbit friend asked with disbelief.
"Yes," she said simply. "And I have never been so drunk before… Why are you staring?"
"It's just…" Pippin began. "I have never seen a lady drunk before."
"Well, it's all your fault. And a lady is allowed to get drunk, or at least merry."
"Pardon?" said Merry.
"Keren is drunk, Merry," Pippin said wonderingly.
"Well what do you expect," Merry replied. "She's had two whole pints, and some wine, and I haven't been keeping count on that."
"Yes, but that's a lot for us, not a human." Pippin frowned.
"I don't usually drink much, Pip, it's all gone to my head," Keren explained, voice slightly slurring. "And glad I am of it tonight," she said a little bitterly.
She felt very hot. She was now rather grateful there had been no dancing. A few hours had passed since Eomer's announcement, and Keren had lost track of what she had drunk. In that moment she felt as if the people sat closest to her at the table were her only friends in the world. For what had she done? Left a good position at the Houses, and a stable future. And tonight she wanted nothing more than to erase the cause of all this upheaval – who was currently sat less than twenty feet away – from her memory, by wiping him away with alcohol. She had never been a drinker, and she was aware that this was most out of character.
But then, I do not know who I am anymore, she thought glumly.
"I'd like another drink, please, Peregrin," she said with a polite, forced grin.
"Keren, is this wise?" A calm voice behind her spoke, and Legolas laid a hand on her arm, mainly to stop her tankard from hitting him in the face. "You have had enough."
"What's the matter, Keren?" Pippin asked seriously, before she could answer the elf, and the question caught her by surprise.
"The – the matter?" she stuttered.
"Yes," Pippin said. "Since we met you, you have always been fun, and often smiling and laughing, like now. But right from the start, it sometimes feels like a pretence, and when you think no one is watching you, you are quiet and sad. And I feel like – like there is something that is making you sad, underneath it all, just sometimes you're very good at hiding it."
She sat in stunned silence, unaware that she had let any appearances slip. Then embarrassment hit her, and she stood suddenly.
"I need some fresh air," she said and went quickly towards the doors leading to the forecourt.
The others at the table all looked at each other in surprise and alarm.
"I'm going after her." Pippin sprang up.
"Pippin, wait," Legolas called after him. "Pippin – "
The elf's words fell away as Pippin ran after his friend.
Keren heard his pattering bare feet on the stones behind her, as she walked quickly alongside the low stone wall, looking for a seat. In the end she gave up and sank down on the wall itself, trying not to think of the drop behind her. Movement had increased her awareness of how drunk she was, but the fresh air was already helping clear her head.
Pippin sat next to her, and nudged her in the ribs.
"So, come on then," he said. "What's going on?"
Keren shrugged. Pippin looked at her until he realised that no answer would be forthcoming.
"It's the Lord Faramir isn't it?" he blurted out.
"What? No! How could it – ? What do you…?" She paused, then sighed as she realised she could not dissemble. "How did you know?"
"I guessed the very first day I saw you, but it took tonight for me to be convinced," Pippin replied.
"The first day?"
"You remember," he said, "when you opened the door to me at the Houses of Healing, and we ran down the halls together with Beregond, and Faramir lay dying in his arms?"
Keren nodded, words and emotions sticking in her throat.
"And you sat at his bedside while we went off to find Gandalf? When we returned you didn't see us immediately, and I saw his hand in yours before you quickly dropped it. And the look on your face was just… broken. And I wondered what you were to each other. And then I thought, well, nothing, because you were… well, you were… and he was…"
"I was a healer and he was the Steward of Gondor," she said blandly.
"Well, yes. But then every time we have been in his presence you are more withdrawn, and now that the Lady Eowyn is here too… I am afraid you did not do as good a job of hiding it as you thought."
Keren sighed again, and flopped forward with her head in her hands.
"Are you in love with him?" Pippin dared to ask the question.
"I don't know," came the muffled reply from within Keren's arms. "I was, I thought I was, everything told me that I was." She sat up slowly, and turned to face Pippin. "But then, he hurt me. He told me he loved me, in a roundabout way, but he hurt me, and chose another. Chose her." She jerked her head towards the Hall. "And now I – oh, I don't know. I still love him, and I should not, and it hurts."
Pippin was quiet as he took all the information in. Had Faramir really told Keren that he loved her?
"So… what now?" he asked gently.
"Now he marries her, lives happily ever after in Ithilien, and I am destined to be alone," she said, fully aware of how pathetic she sounded, but not caring.
"Oh, come on now," he said, trying to hide a laugh at her dramatic turn of phrase. "You'll find someone. You're… Well, you're wonderful, quite frankly, and if you were a hobbit-maid I would be first in line."
He smiled shyly, then promptly fluttered his eyelashes and grinned maniacally.
"Thanks, Pip." Keren rolled her eyes, but could not help smiling in return. "But I really do not think I will. Find someone that is. Nor am I sure I want to. Life feels empty now."
Annoyingly she felt tears rise to the surface, and decided to, this time, blame it on the alcohol.
"What shall I do, Pip? What can I do?" she asked in a small voice.
"Why did you come here?" Pippin asked. "If it was to get away from him it wasn't a very good – "
"No, I know," she interrupted. "It wasn't to get away from him, I knew he would come. But he will not be here forever. Nor shall she."
"But will you be here forever?"
"I don't know," she shrugged. "I was told to come, so I came. I do not know what is going to happen, and I feel more lost now than I ever have, and glad I am to have friends here, for a short time at least."
"Who told you to come?" Pippin wondered.
"The Lady Galadriel."
Pippin's eyebrows shot up.
"Oh. Well, then, I would listen to her," he said simply.
"Elves are most confusing," Keren sighed. "Legolas has given me advice sometimes which I do not think will ever make sense, although the care behind it helps."
"Legolas?"
Keren realised Pippin would not know of their private meetings.
"He has… helped me, a few times over the past few months," she explained. "He knows about Faramir. To an extent."
"Oh. Right." Pippin's reaction was much like that of Palen's when she had told her of her meetings with the elf. Was it really so strange?
Of course it is, she thought.
"Can you face him again tonight?" Pippin asked.
"Who? Legolas?" Keren frowned.
"No, Faramir, of course. Because I want you to come back inside and have fun with us, your friends. And, if your head is clearer now, I am going to be most irresponsible, but fun, and instruct you to have more beer. That will help."
"I do feel a lot better for having some air," she admitted. "And another drink I do not think will hurt, not tonight. He will not speak to me again, I am in no danger of hurt or embarrassment."
"Other than dancing on a table," Pippin prompted.
"Other than – wait, no!" And they were laughing.
"Come on," Pippin said. "We do not have much time together left, you and I. Nor will I have many other opportunities to drink pints. Let's go in."
The grey light of early dawn was spilling over the mountains when many found their beds in Meduseld that night. Legolas, not especially needing to sleep, watched as his friends one by one staggered to their rooms, until he was left with only the other elves for company. Illustrious company it was, but he was in no mood to meet Galadriel's questioning eyes this night. He had been aware of her watching him next to Keren, for what reason he could not deduce. When Keren had left, his one wish was to run after her, hold her tightly and make her troubles go away – but he knew he could not help her in regards to Faramir, and that only she herself could banish the thoughts of him. So he had left her, and he had felt Galadriel's silent approval. He had wished for Pippin to leave her too, knowing that Keren found solitude helpful. Since then he had not spoken to her, but rather had watched her grow steadily more inebriated until at last even Pippin admitted she had had enough. The last he had seen of her Merry and Pippin were leading her outside for some air once more, promising to look after her.
He politely made his excuses to the table, and went to find his chamber, which he was sharing with Gimli.
Once outside he heard snoring. He followed the small sound, as it was familiar, and he knew the owners of it were not where they ought to be.
Sure enough, leaning up against the wall a little way along the terrace, their legs spread out before them, were Merry and Pippin, a low rumble coming from their noses. But more of a shock to him was the sight of Keren, also passed out beside them, Pippin's head lolling on her shoulder as she had slumped almost to the floor.
An unexpected fury hit him at the sight – the hobbits had failed in their promise of getting her to a bed.
No doubt they were enjoying the ale so much that they could not even make it back inside, he thought.
He felt a wave of protection towards her, and whilst he knew that the hobbits were only trying to keep her spirits high with their company, he was angry that he could not have been the one she had turned to.
I would not have left her sleeping on cold stone either.
Without thinking he knelt and picked her up in his arms, deciding to leave the hobbits, for they deserved an uncomfortable night after this.
She did not even stir as he carried her slowly to his chamber, which was filled with more snores courtesy of Gimli, who Legolas knew from past experience would be passed out for many hours.
Gently he lay her on his pallet, brushed her hair from her face, and knelt beside her, elbows on the bed. He could feel that strange aura from her again, present each time he had seen her, but now brought to the fore. Crystals again. How he wished he could just plainly ask her what it was.
He instead took the rare opportunity to study her face. She was pale from drinking and lack of sleep – he imagined the nausea would hit her strongly when she awoke. Not since the first night they met had their faces been so close, and he was pleased to see the signs of exhaustion so present then had gone. But still, even in repose, her face was not peaceful, and he sensed that her mind was not at rest.
He loved her face – it was not perfect, nor truly beautiful, but he was attracted to her in ways he had never felt, nor thought he was capable of feeling. Her lips were soft and full, pursed in sleep, her eyebrows dark and elegantly, gently, arched. It was not a face to inspire fear or envy, but trust. Her body too he had noticed more since that night on the balcony. Wary of his thoughts going down that path, one he was so unused to, he turned and sat on the floor, leant against the bed, facing away from her. He would stay there, silent and still, in his usual position of one leg bent, one stretched in front, until she awoke.
Keren was half-awakened by a strange sound – she thought she must be in the mountains and there was a rockfall, but she knew that could not be right. As she was wondering what was happening she became aware of an unsettling feeling in her stomach, and rather thought that if she moved she may vomit. Deciding that would be a very bad idea she allowed herself to drift off into sleep again.
The next time she awoke she could tell that it was full day, for the light hit her closed eyelids, and she wondered where she was. Beneath her was a soft mattress and pillow, rather than the earth floor of the hall she had been getting used to. She had absolutely no idea how she had got there. The last thing she remembered was getting cross at Pippin for sending her flagon of ale flying while he was kicking his legs about dancing on the table.
She risked opening her eyes.
Immediately she shut them again, the light making her feel ill. Her stomach was roiling and her head was pounding.
She stretched out her limbs and rolled over onto her side, realising that the strange noise of earlier was gone.
After giving herself a few minutes for her head to settle, she tentatively tried opening her eyes again. She blinked a few times, for all she could see at first was silver. But then patterns and shapes started forming.
It was hair. It was very intricately tied hair. It was an intricately tied braid atop a head of long silver hair.
It's… Legolas's hair?
Assuming she was still asleep and this was a very convincing, if strange, dream, she gently stroked the smooth strands, answering her patient curiosity from their first meeting – yes, his hair was as soft as it had looked. Finding comfort in the touch, she shut her eyes again, her fingers toying with the ends.
"You are finally awake," came the gentle voice.
"Not awake," she mumbled. "Dream."
"I will fetch you some fresh water," the dream said.
"No, wait, nice dream."
But the elf was gone. She went back to sleep.
A gentle hand on her brow woke her again.
"It is best if you drink now."
She scrunched up her face in annoyance.
"I don't want any more drink," she said dully.
"'Tis but water," Legolas said gently. "And I am making you drink it. I have put some healing herbs in it, to aid the symptoms which I have no doubt you are feeling. Drink it, then sleep again. I will come and wake you in one hour, by which time you should be feeling more yourself."
He quickly left the room. Keren sighed and heaved herself up into an almost-sitting position, stretching over for the jug beside her bed. Did he intend for her to drink it all? She eyed it warily – what had he meant by healing herbs? With an internal shrug she began to take gentle sips, knowing that to slosh the whole thing back would cause it to come straight back up again. She had never been truly hungover in her life, and at that moment had no wish to ever be again, for she assumed that was what was wrong with her.
Curse Pippin, she thought, as she lay back down to sleep, her stomach already feeling a little more peaceful, but her ears still ringing.
The rest of the day was, thankfully, an uneventful one. Legolas had come to wake her again as promised, and this time she was alert enough to feel mightily embarrassed about what had happened. He had explained how he had found her, and how he had gone to the trouble of putting her to bed, staying with her, and then preparing a drink to ease her head and stomach.
He told her that she was to have his bed for the duration of their time in Edoras, which was only to be for a few more days.
As he said it the truth of the words sank in for Keren. His thought and care in looking after her in her embarrassing, inebriated state had proved what a true friend he was, and all too soon they were to be parted. Keren could not see a time when she would see him, or the hobbits for that matter, again.
The remnants of the fellowship spent as much time together as possible in those last few days, and Keren did not wish to intrude on them too often.
As it happened, Pippin came to find her and apologise for the happenings of the night of the feast. Keren assured him she did not remember, and besides, that had been her aim. Her glance passed coolly over Faramir now, for she had learnt that he was not the only person that could put a smile on her face.
Nor never shall he again, she said to herself. Soon he will be gone, and I can begin again.
As she was thinking this, however, her hand drifted to the pouch where the crystal still sat at her waist.
"So, what do you plan to do, once we have gone?" Pippin's question brought her back to reality.
"I wish I had an answer," she replied. "And do not remind me that in two days we must part, forever. You have been such a good friend to me Pip, and Merry. But I know you must go home."
"It is a long journey," said Pippin.
There was a pause.
"If you really have no plan or place here, and if you really want adventure…" he began.
"What?" Keren asked.
"You could… come with us." Pippin got out awkwardly.
Keren stared.
"I know you would not wish to leave your home, and Pal, and everything," he went on hastily. "But you would be welcome to come north with us, as far as you wished. You told me you wanted to see the world."
"When did I say that?" Keren wondered.
"Well admittedly you were very, very drunk at the time."
Keren sat, and did not know what to say or think – for her immediate first thought when Pippin had said 'come with us' had frightened her. For it was yes.
"I'll think about it," she said instead.
The large group who were heading to their homelands had made ready to leave, and they were to depart early the next morning. Keren learnt that Elessar would travel with them some of the way, for what reason she knew not. His wife was to stay behind, and Legolas told Keren that it was with great sadness – for never would she see her father or brothers again.
"Why, poor lady?" she wondered.
"She has chosen to forego her place in the Undying Lands," Legolas replied, one foot on the low wall of the terrace where they had met after supper. "She has chosen the Gift of Men – mortality."
"The gift of men?"
"Death frees your spirit. We, as immortals, are forever tied to Arda." Legolas was staring out into the clear, starry skies.
"But we have the fear of not knowing what happens, where our spirit goes, when we die," Keren said.
She had thought of death often, after her mother's passing, and also seeing it so frequently in her work as a healer. She believed she had a soul, she believed there was something more to the world – for she could either believe that, or think she was going mad hearing voices from a crystal.
"Such thoughts are often on your mind, I feel, daughter of Maleron," came another voice from behind them.
Keren turned to see the Lady Galadriel silently approaching. She shot a glance at Legolas, silently asking if the beautiful elf always behaved this way.
"Wonder and curiosity over the future is to be encouraged," Galadriel went on. "Fear is not. Legolas, Lord Celeborn wishes to speak with you."
Legolas bowed and immediately retreated inside, aware of the clear dismissal.
"You chose to follow my advice," Galadriel said to Keren once Legolas was gone. "I am glad."
"But to what end?" Keren found her tongue, aware that her voice sounded shrill and childlike compared to the Lady's. "I know not what to do here."
"Peregrin of the Shire has, I think, made a suggestion?"
"He has," Keren said simply, hoping that Pippin had actually told Galadriel, and this was not the elf reading her mind. She was certain that had happened before.
"And what was your heart's response?"
Keren took a breath before answering, for admitting the truth was one thing, sharing it was harder.
"It told me to go, to leave behind everything I have ever known. It told me to be brave, and to have an adventure."
Galadriel nodded, unsurprised, then spoke with a smile.
"The road north is your path now – once you made the decision to leave your home you set your life on another thread. Peregrin is right, your place is not here in Edoras, but with us."
Keren stared. A light breeze lifted her hair and blew strands about her face, but she could not lift a hand to brush them away, for she felt as if she was frozen, as if the Lady held her in place. It was not threatening, but reassuring, as if she had been given some solidity enabling her to stand and assess her future with clarity.
"Tomorrow we begin our journey," Galadriel said. "Come with us, and you will have answers to many of your questions."
"But will I be safe? I have much to lose, travelling with you, away from my home."
"You will be provided for and protected," Galadriel replied, and Keren could not hear any hint of an untruth in her words. "You are a friend to the elves Keren, and we take care of our friends. Do not fear us."
"But where are we to go?" Keren chose not to expand on the topic of elf-friends, for she felt she could not face that frustrating conversation at that moment.
"To my home, as it is now," was all Galadriel said. "But on the way we shall pass many places, and if it is adventure you long for, you shall see things you cannot even imagine."
"Where is your home?" Keren wondered.
"Caras Galadhon, within Lothlorien, a great wood of light and gold."
"Is it… beyond the Entwash?" Keren asked, remembering her father's words.
"Far beyond," Galadriel replied. "But all waters, rivers and roads are one. And all lead home, if you wish."
The dawn arrived – Keren had spent another night in Legolas's bed whilst he rested on the floor. She had begun to realise that he did not truly need sleep, which frightened her a little. Was she really choosing to journey with these strange beings, to travel to a city of elves?
She had collected what little belongings she had brought with her, and went to seek out Beregond. She was a little apprehensive in doing so, as he was always to be found in close proximity to Faramir these days.
They parted, with much confusion on his part, as she had not told him what she was doing there, nor where she was going. Keren hoped to see him again, for in her mind she would always return home eventually. But then he gently reminded her that his new home was in Ithilien, and unless she journeyed there then it was unlikely their paths would cross.
He hugged her tightly when she began to cry, and felt pain at their parting himself – for many years he had been almost as close as a father to her, and both felt they had had too little time to say goodbye, although both knew why that was.
Aware that Faramir would be close at hand, she sadly turned from Beregond as he went back to his duties. Wiping her tears away, she almost walked into someone else.
"Keren!" Eowyn said. She paused awkwardly, not wishing to comment on the tears Keren had been anxious to hide, before politely carrying on as if naught was amiss. "I saw you here a few nights past, and wondered as to what had brought you here? And now" – she glanced at the pack on Keren's back – "you are leaving?"
Keren stood frozen, her nerves shot. She nodded, then realised that was perhaps not enough.
"Yes, I am going… home," she lied awkwardly.
"I am sorry I have not seen more of you, then" Eowyn said. "And I must thank you. I have not spoken to you since my time in the Houses, and you must know that I thank you most sincerely for all that you did for me. If it was not for your understanding I would not have left my room, and I would not have had the luck to properly meet the man to whom all my happiness is bound."
She was beaming from ear to ear, unaware that her words were poison to Keren. Keren attempted to plaster an answering smile on her face, but she could not bring herself to say how happy she was for Eowyn, for she knew the words would stick in her throat and she would give the truth away.
"Eowyn, my love?" came an all too familiar voice. "Your brother is wondering what to – "
Keren watched as Faramir noticed her and stopped dead.
Eowyn faded into the background as she met his eyes.
The look shocked Faramir, for along with the love and the pain, which was to be expected, was condescension.
Keren quickly drank in the sight of him, despite her feelings. She had not wanted or expected this meeting, but she could not help herself, and tried to take in every detail – for she would not see him again. He looked very much as he had the first time she had ever seen him when she was a child, his black hair whipped by the breeze, the stern gaze, the long aquiline nose, the grey eyes of Numenor.
Oh, how I will miss you, Keren's heart cried, remembering the times when she had been floating on air in his presence, when she had shivered at the tiniest touch of his hand on hers. When he had wanted to kiss her, and she had rejected him, fool that she was. Oh, farewell, farewell!
Eowyn was apparently oblivious to all, for no more than two seconds had passed in which both were still.
To Faramir and Keren it felt as if time had stopped.
He saw the simple, frank gaze, the pleasing face with the round chin and large brown eyes. Her dark hair was loose and blowing in the wind.
How different things could have been. He was a courageous man, kind and noble – but this young woman and all associated with her had shaken him to the core, and he knew he had acted, and judged, poorly. He loved her beyond all, but with a power that was not of the earth, so he had lied to her, and run from it. And now it was too late.
Coward. That word from her mouth would haunt him for the rest of his days. He had proven in all other respects that he was not, but when it came to listening to his heart, and to her, he was what she had judged him to be. And yet still she loves me, I can see it in her eyes. What pain I have caused her, and for naught.
You still cannot hide or deny it, Keren thought, willing him to hear her silent words. Still you love me, still you remember that day, and you will all your life. And I will take that knowledge silently to my grave, and I will treasure it. No matter what else befalls us, we had that moment where our stars aligned, and we knew we had a home.
"I wish you well, my lady," she said to Eowyn, even dropping a light courtesy. Then she turned and walked away.
Keren was once more atop Leofric, the brown horse that had carried her from Minas Tirith. He was a good size for her, and well behaved, but it would take more than that for her to enjoy her time in the saddle.
"Plenty of time for riding practise now, mistress Keren!" shouted Gimli as he watched her bob up and down, trying to control Leofric's pace. "The road to Isengard is long."
She shot him a friendly if slightly frazzled look, and asked if he was going to teach her, natural horseman that he was. The dwarf was sat awkwardly behind Legolas, clinging at his waist, as he had for all their journeys together.
They had stopped just outside the gates of Edoras, to bid a formal, public farewell to their hosts. A smaller party by far than the one that had set out from Minas Tirith, Keren felt very much a minor addition, surrounded by the Fellowship, the King and the Elves.
At a fair distance from the town all the horses were turned about to face Edoras on its strange, jutting hill. Small figures were gathered on the terrace of Meduseld, one with golden hair, all in white, and one not as striking in the morning light, rather disappearing in the shadows with his dark hair and clothes. But the sight of him affected Keren far more. Around them were Prince Imrahil, King Eomer, and of course, Beregond, along with many knights and captains.
Arms were raised in farewell, and heads were bowed, before all on the plains turned about and began a steady pace towards the north-west.
Keren turned her horse slowly, allowing herself one last look at the man who, for almost ten years, she had thought was her future.
No more, she said to herself. I am finding a new life. And he has no part in it.
Now, as she looked around, she saw friends all about her – strange, wonderful beings that she had not known even for one year, and yet had saved her, in some way. Pippin and Merry to her left, both with tears drying on their faces at parting forever from their noble friends, and on her right, the elf. He was looking at her with sadness and understanding, and she met his gaze.
There was too much noise around them for him to speak privately, but she felt his respect and kindness, and smiled a little.
He smiled back, then together they turned their faces towards the road ahead.
Keren's smile remained as she took in her company. Elves of legend and myth were behind her, the greatest wizard known in Middle Earth was before her, alongside a King, and two hobbits that had saved the world. She threw her head back and laughed with the enormity of it all, a wild, free laugh that was lost on the wind.
Oh, mother, she thought, I hope wherever you are you are happy for me. I am going to see the elves in the stories you told.
She went to turn her head back towards Faramir, towards home, one last time. But Legolas shouted beside her, and it meant she never looked back.
"Keren, look!" He pointed up to the skies. "A good omen – Manwë has sent an eagle to guide our path!"
She arched her head back and watched the huge bird cut a graceful line through the sky, heading for the mountains.
I am going past the mountains, mother. I am going to see the elves.
And I am going to have an adventure.
END OF BOOK ONE