Author note: What is happening? Three chapters in a week. Unprecedented I think. Whilst holding down a job too! Madness. Anyway...

Thank you to everyone who left reviews for the last chapter - so many people that have just found this story too with all the new follows and favs, thank you so much :) And to everyone that has followed this since 2016, of which there a few, honestly I am so touched that you are still reading and reviewing. x

I really, really, REALLY hope this chapter delivers. (Hint, it's a big one). Lots of exposition which I always struggle with.

Chapter fifteen - The coming of winter

Keren stared in disbelief as the figure of the elf grew smaller and smaller. She was so confused - Arod had been left with Leofric in Lothlórien. She was fairly certain she would have noticed a horse sharing a tiny boat with her… How was he now here and able to bear Legolas away from her? Had Legolas sent for him? How had he got here? Where were they going? Were they coming back? When?

What is it about this garden?! she thought to herself, her mind in turmoil yet again. He could not be leaving without saying goodbye, he just would not do it.

But why was he riding fast towards his own home, so soon after travelling all this way with her? Anger flared up within her - this was a very different feeling from seeing Faramir torn from her. How dare he be so rude, cruel, as to just up and leave! She was not wilting at the sight of him going, she was burning.

Fine, go, she spoke to him in her head. I'll be alright this time.

And, hurt as she was, she knew she would be alright. Her anger would fuel her to work harder, be stronger, and try to forget about him. For some reason Pippin popped into her head, cheering her on. He would pat her on the back if he could reach. Keren had promised herself in Lórien that never again would anyone have as much power over her as Faramir had, to make her so unhappy - the time to fulfil that promise had just come a little sooner than expected, that was all.

She gritted her teeth and set her jaw, holding herself straight and tall, and turned her back on the sight of the elf disappearing, walking back into the houses. But her hands were shaking, and she did not eat her midday meal.

Legolas had spoken of his plans to Aragorn as soon as the two had reunited, and straightaway the King secretly sent word to the Lady of the Golden Wood, sending for his friend's horse as a surprise. If he was going to make regular trips to Ithilien, he would need to get there faster than his own two legs could carry him. The messenger had ridden his own horse back with Arod on leading reins beside, but Arod made it plain he knew the way back to his beloved master, and when they reached Rohan he galloped wild and free over his homeland once more.

When Aragorn had taken Legolas to the stables to present him with Arod waiting patiently in a stall, he had embraced his great friend and thanked him profusely. Now everything could start in earnest. He had great plans for the abandoned forests of Ithilien, and plans for Minas Tirith too. Aragorn had ordered that everywhere within the city walls that had been damaged by war would be rebuilt, not as houses of stone, but as gardens of peace and reflection. Already Legolas had sent for some of his kin from the woodland realm to journey south, with seeds and saplings from the forest. Not only would they introduce nature into the city of men, they would be the start of his first small colony in Ithilien.

Already he had ridden out twice before Keren happened to see him from the walls. He knew not that she was watching this time, with anger and worry, thinking he had left her forever.

She needed time to adjust back into her life, to spend time with her family. He had been giving her space, although sometimes there was a niggle of impatience within him, when he wanted to be by her side at all times, regardless.

But no, he thought. She must be given time with her family again, before I…

What? Take her away from them? It occurred to him that perhaps there would not be another way. If she wished to wed him his father's request would need to be honoured, for her to stay awhile in their kingdom. And if her father hated all of his people… Well, they would cross that bridge if they ever got to it. He thought of the sacrifice the Lady Arwen and her father had made for her union with Aragorn, and shuddered. He prayed things would not come to such a pass as that for Keren - to have to choose between a husband and a father.

He had told Aragorn of his hopes involving Keren too, and had watched as his friend's face grew still at the news - there was happiness in his smile, but something else that Legolas could not fathom behind his eyes. It had made him wary, for his friend knew more than anyone what was being asked of them, for it was the path he had chosen for himself.

"May you have many long years together," the King said quietly, "if it is what she wishes as well. But beware, it took my Lady Evenstar almost thirty years to recognise our bond after our first meeting, when I was ready to cleave to her at first sight."

He offered his friend a small smile, but he could see the elf was not receptive to humour about this subject. Aragorn was blessed with the long-life of the Númenóreans - he was approaching ninety but still in his prime, appearing as a man of forty summers - but Keren was not a direct descendant of royalty. Thirty years from now would place her in middle-age, giving her plenty of time to find someone else, someone mortal, beforehand.

"I can but trust to hope that all will be well," Legolas replied. "As well as it can be."

"Will you speak up to her?" Aragorn asked. "Perhaps if you tell her how you feel, what has occurred…"

"It would frighten her, I am certain of it. Sometimes she still looks at me as if she is wary of me, like I am strange to her."

"Often I would gaze at Arwen like that," Aragorn said, "for I could not believe something so beautiful could still walk the earth, and even once she had declared her love for me in return I could not believe she was mine. Elves are wondrous to us mortals, Legolas, particularly when we love them. That may be all it is, and you may find the answer you seek in her eyes as she looks at you."

Legolas frowned slightly and was silent.

That conversation had been a week ago. Now he was riding out to Ithilien again, to scout out his future home, and he had to admit to himself that perhaps now he was avoiding Keren within the excuse of giving her space, in case he did not see the look in her eye that Aragorn mentioned. He had tried avoidance tactics before, and it had upset and confused her. He felt ashamed - he could look death in the eye, but not Keren apparently. He brought Arod to a halt and stopped for a while in the road. Ahead of him, after a few hours ride, was Ithilien. Behind him was Keren. It would not matter overmuch if he made the journey then saw her upon his return - but that was a day away, and time was short for them. No, a day could change everything. He kicked Arod and started galloping back towards the city.

"Is everything alright, Keren?" Ioreth asked her that night, as they had just sat down for their evening meal in the houses. The girl had been sat staring into space, fiddling with the silver ring she always wore on a chain around her neck since her return. She would get to the bottom of that one day, but for now… "Often I can read you like a book, child, and I can tell that something has happened."

"It's nothing," Keren replied, smiling.

"Hmm. Don't think I don't remember all your troubles before. Now, I never asked what they were about, but I can guess, and if it is a similar thing now then I think you need - "

"I'm fine thank you, Ioreth." The smile grew a little like a grimace, and she picked up her knife and began cutting her chicken less than delicately.

Well, thought Ioreth, at least the girl is putting on a brave face this time, and at least she is not acting like a corpse. But she's in love again alright. Let us hope this time it is with someone within her reach.

There came a knock upon the door. Ioreth tutted.

"Who is that disturbing us at meal time? No, don't answer, Keren, make them wait," she said as Keren sprang up, eager to escape Ioreth's imminent lecture. She went to the crooked wooden door of the refectory, always open, but where a young servant girl was waiting, her place in the ranking one step below those of the healers she cooked and cleaned for.

"Oh, Keren, there's a - a man. No, not a man, I mean an elf. An elf is at the main doors asking for you," she got out eventually, flustered from her exchange with an immortal being.

"Mistress Keren to you, Maedeth," Ioreth said loudly from the table.

Keren grimaced. Since Keren's unexplained long absence and apparent acceptance back into the Houses, she had not found herself the most popular of staff. She was unaware of it, but she carried herself differently from the others now, and the elvish ring around her neck gleamed brightly, strangely. Unless they knew her well, the other healers and the few serving staff assumed she thought herself far above them. Ioreth's utterance would not go down well.

"There is a male elf waiting for you at the front door, Mistress Keren," Maedeth said loudly and clearly enough for everyone to hear this time, as if it was a perfectly normal occurrence.

Everyone in the room stared at Keren. She decided the best course of action was not to turn back to Ioreth, not to speak or look anyone in the eye, and just walk out of the room as quickly as possible, leaving the wide eyes and the whispers behind.

She had to work hard to stop herself running down the halls to the main doors. Her breathing grew shallow, and she reminded herself that she was angry with him for making her wait so long. Perhaps it was not him she had seen from the walls earlier? But she had been so certain. What was going on? Maybe this mysterious elf behind the door wasn't him at all.

But who else would it be, idiot? She laughed under her breath as she hurried through the main passageway that ran the length of the front of the building.

Reaching the doors she halted, took a deep breath and swung them open. She had not done so since meeting Pippin for the first time, and their heavy weight as she pulled on them now took her right back to that day - Pippin and Beregond bearing a dying Faramir inside, as she struggled with extreme fatigue. But now it was an elf, her elf, that waited behind the ancient oaken doors, and there was no war and no dying soldiers. A feeling of peace washed over her as she beheld his face. But still…

"Where have you been?" she asked, trying to sound angry but failing. "It's been weeks!"

"I am sorry I stayed away so long," he said seriously. "I thought it would be best to give you some time with your family without me interfering, but today I realised… well, I missed you."

Keren absorbed his expression and the tone of his words. He was telling the truth, but not all of it. There was something he was holding back, something he had gone to say but had chosen not to. Again.

"Where were you going this morning?" she asked shortly.

Legolas blinked in surprise.

"I saw you from the Gardens," she explained.

"To Ithilien," he replied. "Remember I told you in Lórien about my plans for a colony there?"

That pulled her up short. She had entirely forgotten. So excited had she been about it when he had first told her, for it meant once she journeyed home he would be relatively close by, rather than unfathomable leagues away in the North. But now… She had got so used to him being by her side she had not thought of his personal plans for months.

"Oh," was all she could manage. She felt incredibly stupid. Of course he would have things in his life that did not involve her.

"Did you… Did you think I was leaving for good?" he asked her gently.

She nodded, and felt a little teary with relief.

"But surely you knew I would never do that?" he said incredulously. "Not now."

"I'm not sure what I was thinking."

"I have gone twice in the past two weeks," he explained. "I thought I would give you some time with your father and sister, and in the meantime I could progress with my work. Already I think I have found where I would like my dwelling to be. But today, as I was riding out, I felt I should… be by your side. I should have come to you sooner, I see that now."

"So you turned back?" she whispered.

He smiled fondly at her uncertainty. "I turned back."

"For me?" she checked.

"Of course."

There was an awkward silence. Both were aware they were stood in quite a public area, that anyone could come by at any moment, and Keren knew not what to say or do. Luckily Legolas spoke.

"I came here tonight to ask if you would like to dine with me, to make amends for leaving you so long. I went to your sister's house, but she informed me you were living here now, back at work. She warned me you would be at dinner already, but we dine late in the King's House, so I thought I would try - "

"Dine with King?" she interrupted. It wasn't quite the full sentence she had been aiming for, but it at least worked to show her shock.

"Not with the King I'm afraid, at least not this time. Just in my rooms within his house. Just - well, just the two of us," the elf replied. "We have much to catch up on."

"I - I have nothing to wear."

"Wear this," he nodded at what she was already in, the uniform of the healers. "It's just me after all - your travelling companion. I've seen you covered in dirt with hair you have not washed for a fortnight."

She wrinkled her nose at the memory.

"The first time we met you had the blood of dead men upon your face," he said more seriously. "Your uniform was stained with it. Keren, you could come to me in a hessian sack beneath a year's worth of grime, and I would still greet you as a queen, for I know the mettle that lies beneath."

He held out his hand, and she took it with great relief. He was still here, he was not going anywhere soon. Her smile beamed as he led her up to the seventh circle, and back in the refectory her plate of chicken and beans grew cold as Ioreth sat staring at it.

Something changed that night, Keren came to realise over the next couple of months. There was an acknowledgement, unspoken, that time together uninterrupted was when they were both happiest. In Lórien it had not even been acknowledged by the other elves when they were alone together, but in Gondor it would always be frowned upon. A young unmarried woman needed a chaperone when alone with a man. But Legolas wasn't a man, so no-one seemed to know what to say or do about Keren and her strange companion. No-one in the Houses ever mentioned it to her, not even Ioreth, for it was unprecedented. But there was gossip in the hallways and at the evening meal, if she was away yet again. Much of it stemmed from jealousy, but some folk were genuinely bewildered at what their relationship could be. Keren certainly made no sign that anything romantic was happening. She remained close-lipped even to Palen, who was the only person who pushed her for an explanation. In the end Palen gave up, knowing she had more important things to be worrying about. It was growing colder, and soon Dannis would have to face his first winter. She knew she was being foolish, for he had a warm house and loving parents, but there was something so fragile about a baby, her own baby, that she had never had to worry about before.

It was true the winters could be bitter. Anórien, that part of Gondor which lay all along the northern side of the White Mountains, was prone to heavy snowfall and chill winds from the north, as the mountains blocked out any warmer air coming from the south. Minas Tirith, at the end of the range, was often not as beset as the land further west, but city-dwellers always knew if the wind was from the north, and more than once each winter had to prepare for flurries of snow coming down off the mountains. Even in the height of summer, when the temperature soared in the city, rarely did Mindolluin lose his white hat. In winter he was more than pleased to share it with the people living below.

Legolas and Keren continued to meet regularly, though once a week he rode out to Ithilien and was gone for two days each time. Some of the smaller gardens within the city he had already planted, but he decided to wait until the spring for further work. When the weather began to worsen the trips to Ithilien also stopped. Meanwhile the five elves that had come from Legolas's home had arrived and were lodged together in rooms near his. Keren had met them all and found them very different from the Lórien elves. They were pure Silvan, not of blood mixed with Sindar nobility like Legolas, and it was most strange to see them being deferential to him. They were the closest to humans of the elves Keren had come across, although they were still fairer of face and taller. Laughter came far more readily to them, and merriment, and song. But they were far quicker to anger too - there was a wildness about them that unsettled her when they were all together. Legolas had warned her of it, long ago at their first meeting, the dangerous quality of the Silvans. Like Haldir, they were trained warriors first and foremost, saving their wisdom for days of peace. Sometimes even in their mirth they were too much. They were all male too, and Keren wondered if the females were similar in their humours.

As winter wore on and the wind really began to bite, Keren found her work increasing - the healers saw the normal winter rush of the very old and very young with chills and fevers, particularly amongst those who were poor - and therefore her visits to Legolas grew less regular. Mostly they would meet in his rooms, or if the night was clear sometimes they would walk in the gardens together, Keren wrapped up in layers of wool. Neither could ever especially recall anything they spoke of, but the occasions when he would put an arm around her to warm her, or raise a gentle hand to her face, burned in her memory. After a while it grew useless to pretend she would rather be anywhere else than at his side. But still the fear and doubt gnawed at her. Every touch from him set her on fire and made her heart dance, but she could not entirely give in, not yet. She could not forget the vast disparity between who they were, what they did, what their futures would be. He was thousands of years old, and bore those years heavily sometimes, despite looking only a few years older than her. She was not a worthy, or useful, companion to him, and soon he would move on. When the spring came, he would be gone, she knew it. Ithilien called him, his new home. So it was best not to get attached, however much she floated on air in his presence, however much she might hope that by some miracle he felt the same.

One morning she awoke shivering. She opened her eyes to see snow falling outside the small window. Hastily she lit a fire, cracked the ice over the water in the ewer beside her bed in order to wash, and dressed herself as quickly as she could. She had better keep busy today or she felt she would freeze.

Despite all the fires being lit, and the windows shuttered, the Houses were for the most part old and lofty, and in the larger rooms sometimes little white flutters of breath issued from noses and mouths. The patients were warm beneath their wool and fur, but the healers suffered chilblains, and red, sometimes dripping noses at their bedsides. At the end of a fairly miserable day Keren ate the warming evening meal gratefully, although she would have cheered up a lot more if she was dining with Legolas. By the time she headed to bed the snow had stopped falling, though it had settled quickly and frozen over, meaning any journey outside the Houses would be mildly treacherous on the sloping streets of the city. She opened the door to her room and was hit by the chill. The fire had gone out. Tutting, she set to work by candlelight, knowing she would not sleep well unless the room warmed up a little. The small blaze had started to crackle heartily when she noticed something light lift up off the floor slightly in the draught from beneath the door. A piece of parchment, smooth and expensive. She picked it up and saw Sindarin written in a firm, flowing hand.

Menin na galadh tathren - aphado nin, pi iestog. (Gloss maer annin).

She smiled. This was a test. It had been months since she had seen any Sindarin written down. She reached up for her elven cloak, for despite its lightness it was still her warmest garment, and hurried out of the room. She hoped she had interpreted the note correctly, and seen it in time.

The winter months in Minas Tirith had brought Legolas to a unique state of painful happiness. Keren was busy with her work, but it seemed that she spent almost every spare moment with him. Sometimes he would touch her and she would look up at him with a question in her eyes, but no more. The night by the fire at Amon Hen still burned in his memory - he should have just kissed her then. But that would have been forcing himself upon her, something it would never be in his nature to do.

She would sometimes smile, and blush, and be lost for words in his company, yet other times they would talk for hours as would the best of friends, which brought him no less joy. But it all left him with a wringing ache in his heart and body - how had Aragorn waited thirty years to be certain of his Lady's love? What if he would always be waiting?

Perhaps it would be kinder to them both, come the Spring, to begin building in Ithilien and stay there, stay away. But whenever he had that thought an alarum would go off in his chest, and he knew his place was by her side, his doom was to wait. He was being tested.

May the Valar guide and protect me. Elbereth help us both.

He often sent this thought up to the heavens, out to the West.

He never asked them to make Keren see the truth. If all he hoped for came to pass she had to reach the decision, the realisation, of her own accord. He would not coerce or persuade her in any way, which was why he felt as if she must be unaware of his feelings, as he could not tell her, show her. He longed to take her in his arms, press his body up against hers, tangle his hands in her hair, kiss her hard. The passion was frightening, but the love and care he felt for her almost more so. Never would he feel like this again, and he cursed the fact that the bliss was so painful.

Out of hope he had carried the small ring he had chosen from his father's hoard around with him for a few weeks, but now had taken to leaving it in his rooms, safe and hidden. The time to reveal it was not near yet - how could it be, when no words of love had been spoken at all? The hardest part was seeing Keren wearing a silver ring at all times - ever since her farewell feast in Lórien it was about her neck. He knew, or sincerely hoped, why the Lady had gifted it to her, but for Keren to wear it in blissful ignorance, taking it as a memory of her time in the Golden Wood and nothing more, caused a frost to form in his heart.

And then the snow came.

Legolas felt the change it brought - a freshness, a sharpness in the air. When it settled it would bring clarity. Snowfall upon his homeland had always been one of his favourite sights, and he was interested to see Minas Tirith and the lands about all in white. He hoped Keren would have some spare time today to share it with him.

But no message from the errand-boy of the Houses did he receive, as he had got used to. Alas, it must be a busy day for her, so he spent most of his time with the elves from Eryn Lasgalen, drawing up ideas and plans for the talans they would build. Their names were Ferher, Iorthon, Tordil, Erechil and Celeblas - all tree-names, like his. They were keen to recreate their homes to the letter, but Legolas was inspired by the more decorative flets he had seen in Lórien. Friends these elves were to him, but technically at his command, for back home he was their Prince and Captain. Several of them he had trained in the art of war. All had been keen to travel, to see the world outside the great forest, and they had answered the summons readily when he sent for them, mightily surprised but pleasantly so.

Now, however, it was winter and their work had ground to a halt, and they were beginning to feel a little trapped in this mighty city of men. Thranduil's influence reached far. Legolas hoped he could persuade them to remain until the spring heralded the start of their life in Ithilien. It was strange to him to have their company so far from home. Hopefully it would not be too long before he was returning there, if only for a little while.

As the pale winter sun fell from the sky the snowfall ceased, but the night was freezing, and the snow that lay settled hardened and grew crunchy underfoot. It would stay overnight at least. After supper he called an end to their work for the day and headed to the Houses, carrying his drawings to show Keren - he hoped she would take an interest in the designs of his future. Dare he hope further - their future?

He went to her room, but there was no reply to his knock, and no light came from inside. She must still be at work or her evening meal. He had a destination in mind - the only large garden in this city lay practically on her doorstep, so she would not have to go far to find him. He slipped the note he had prepared for this occurrence under the door, simple and to the point, but he hoped she would read the hope he poured into it.

I'm going to the willow tree - follow me, if you wish. (I like snow).

So he had walked out into the gardens of the Houses of Healing and looked out over the city. The moon was full and bright, casting everything in a silver glow, making the Pelennor below appear never-ending. The roofs and towers of the city were illuminated against the black starry sky. It was a night of beauty and peace, and he hoped all could sense it. Elbereth and her King were working their particular magic tonight.

The wind had dropped, and the trees in the garden seemed frozen in time, their branches laden down with snow. He had left only the lightest of footprints on the smooth white lawn, and to anyone else it would seem as if the garden stood empty. His breath fogged in the air, but he did not feel the cold.

Slowly he began to wander amongst the trees, greeting them each in turn. Last he came to the willow, for whom he held a special regard, for beneath its boughs he had first spied Keren. Now they were sparkling with snow, the hanging leaves, long and thin, appearing as icicles where they had frozen. He brushed against one strand and watched as snowflakes landed on his arm.

Such a beautiful night. He longed for Keren with every fibre of his being - to share this moment with her, it felt important. He decided he would wait here until she came, however long it took.

He leant against the trunk of the willow, looking out on the gardens, and waited for his love to come to him. And so it was when Keren's feet crunched upon the snowy path she beheld him, a still and silent figure stood beneath a white tree. And all was made clear, and all her world was changed.

Author note: Surpriiiiiiise! THIS IS HAPPENING - it wasn't *that* White Tree haha gotcha. x