Author note: Quick one to say thank you so much for all the reviews - it's been equally lovely seeing new followers who have just found the story and are racing through it, as well as those of you who've been following for ages, sometimes waiting months for an update (sorry), and have finally got to them getting together. Believe me I never thought we'd get there either. One, max. two, chapters left in this book and then onto Book Three. As before I'll just keep it all one story so it's easy to find. When complete I may split it into three. Please do keep reviewing, I love to know what you guys think. x

Chapter Seventeen - A shared fate

Legolas was silent, reeling with anger and disbelief. Even his father, with his reclusiveness and blinkered views, was at least open to the idea of his marriage to Keren. He had never said no, not once he trusted that Legolas had found his bond-mate. But to Keren's father there was no such thing as bonding, so he could not understand. There was marriage for convenience and marriage for love, but no true spiritual union.

"Perhaps if I spoke to him?" he offered. "Explain what has happened?"

"No, you mustn't," she said hastily, looking up at him desperately. "He said he will kill you if you ever cross his path."

Legolas's face grew hard as flint.

"He would not succeed."

"I know, but surely you would not even let him try?!" she exclaimed.

"Hush, love, no of course not. But I am saddened, for this means you are having to choose between me and your father. I cannot ask such a thing of you."

"Palen is trying to talk him round, but she resents it," Keren admitted. "She feels she has to choose between us and him too. If she comes to the feast - if she openly supports us - then he will feel she has betrayed him as well as me. And things are just as complicated for her as for us, for she has Little Dan to consider - she wants him to know and love his grandfather, for both Dannor's parents are dead."

Legolas grew silent and withdrawn before her eyes.

"Always I knew we would face trials," he said softly, "but I thought, once we had dealt with my father's wishes, they would not come until later. But I am causing a rift between you and your family before we are even wed. Tell me, Keren, are you sure of your choice, truly?"

"I love you." She looked up at him. "And if that is not enough, I know there will be many trials before… before the end comes." She could not speak of her death, not yet. For though she knew it would come long before his, she hoped the Valar would grant her a long life, not end it prematurely. Surely if they had orchestrated this bond they would want it to be maintained for as long as possible, or what was the point? "I am willing to face any trial that comes our way. My choice will always stand. My choice will always be you, for though it may not be the easiest path, it will be the one that is right."

And she leant in to kiss him, a feather-light touch at first, that deepened as she tried to pour all her love for him into it. It was still a wonder to her, kissing him, knowing that he loved her, had loved her far longer than she had ever dared to hope. But something he had said nagged at her.

"What trials were you thinking of, coming later?" she asked as she broke the kiss.

He shook his head. "Think nothing of that remark. I do not think we should speak of it now."

She rolled her eyes. "That's exactly the kind of sentence that immediately makes me want to speak of it."

He sighed. "Keren, there is much else that needs our focus before we discuss…"

"What?" She said, firmly. "Tell me."

The muscle ticked in his jaw, the sign that showed her he was tense, maybe even angry, and she could see him trying to control it.

"I am fearful to speak of it to you, this early," he began, "although I know the longer I put it off the harder it will be for you to hear. And I beg your forgiveness. It is hard for me to speak of, as hard perhaps as it may be for you to hear it."

"Greenleaf, you're frightening me." She put a hand on his arm.

"How do you feel, when you see Palen with Little Dan?" he asked, his voice soft now, looking at her small hand, taking it in his.

It was not what she had expected, and she froze. The question caused a chill, hard knot to form in her stomach, for she thought she guessed what was coming.

"I suppose what I mean is, do you see that future for yourself?" His eyes searched hers, teeming with things he could not bring himself to say.

"I - don't know," she said eventually. "I feel very young still, certainly not ready to have a child any time soon. Perhaps" - and she thought for a beat before deciding to tell him the truth - "perhaps not ever."

He nodded. "That is all I wished to know."

Keren blinked. "That's it?"

He nodded again.

Keren was dubious, but there had already been one too many problems today, and she decided to drop it. Her mind went back to fretting over her meeting with Legolas's father, something which he picked up on with his talent for reading faces, or to Keren, minds.

"Once he sees us together, how happy you make me, he will thaw a little, I am sure of it," he said gently.

"Let us hope so," Keren said. "Because he'll have to put up with me either way. We cannot both lose our fathers over this."

His strong arm came around her shoulder, and he kissed the top of her head affectionately.

"Let us pray they both see reason," he said.

"I think if they met they would actually get along," Keren mused, determined to try and find humour. "United in their hatred of their prospective son or daughter in law. Common ground… It could work in our favour…"

But her voice was far more bitter than she intended.

The sunset through the waterfall was indeed beautiful, as was their night together under the stars - although not in the way Keren had, immodestly, imagined. But still, she had the images Legolas had painted in her mind by the waterfall to keep her going, and often in the weeks that followed Ioreth would have to nudge her, and once even wave a hand in front of her face, to get her to concentrate on a task.

On the journey back to Minas Tirith she had looked southward, towards the distant, hazy hills of Emyn Arnen. Somewhere amongst them dwelt Faramir and Eowyn. Palen had told her they were wed in Minas Tirith back in the Spring of last year, long before Keren had left Lothlórien. She was glad she had not known at the time, but now she experienced a curious absence of feeling. She was sad, but only for the girl she had been, not for the person she was now.

The person I am now. She often found herself thinking exactly who that was. She had not forgotten the strange name Galadriel had given her, though she had spoken of it to no-one, not even Legolas. For she did not feel like a Ciraen yet, did not feel deserving of such a high elven name. It was certainly in no Sindarin that she had ever learnt. She had also not forgotten that, according to Galadriel, Faramir's part in her tale was not yet over, which had initially made her cling to hope for far too long, but made her nervous now all was changed. She turned her gaze away from the hills and clung tighter to Legolas - her reality, her future, her home.

They set a date for the feast, although Keren felt foolish calling it such, for it was to be a small affair. Her birthday, in just a few weeks, was chosen. Aragorn was overseeing, and paying for it, as a betrothal gift to his companion in fellowship, who helped him win his throne.

Beregond and his family received an invite, although Keren knew it was foolish to hope he could come - the King's ban still lay over his head, and he could not enter the walls of Minas Tirith for the rest of his life.

She wished there was a way to tell Pippin and the other hobbits of all her news, and to learn of theirs, but of course it was futile. There was no messenger that could or would travel so far, and all she could hope was that a rumour would reach their distant land of an elf-prince wedding a Gondorian healer, and they would somehow put two-and-two together.

She had told the Warden of her need to leave, at the same time inviting him to the feast. Their meeting was shorter than the last, for this time she had not had to create a story, nor beg for his leave. Both mutually agreed that, this time, her place would not be open to her upon her return. It was time for her life to move on.

Palen also had left the Houses, her son now her most important charge, and Dannor earning far more as a guard of the citadel than he had as a lowly foot soldier. She often brought Little Dan to see his aunt at the Houses however, and on her birthday Keren turned to find her sister waiting in the hallway outside the main ward when she came off duty, Dannis in her arms.

She could read in Palen's face what news she brought.

"He's not coming is he?"

"I cannot make him change his mind, I'm sorry." Palen truly was, for it meant that she too would forego being at her sister's side that evening. "But he has seen reason to an extent, for he no longer wishes you dead. Indeed, he feels foolish for ever saying so, as he did not mean it - how could he?"

"Well, that's something," Keren said. "Will he see us, before we leave?"

"You, but not Legolas," Palen replied.

Together they walked slowly down the hall, their footsteps echoing off the stone, Dannis snoozing against Palen's chest.

"Are you happy for me, Pal?" Keren dared to ask.

Palen was quiet a while before answering, looking at her feet in their new, slightly heeled boots. Both she and Keren were starting to enjoy the finer things as their fortunes rose.

"If this is what you truly want, then yes, I am. But you are leaving home, again, and by all you've said his father sounds completely mad, so I don't know how enjoyable your time away will be. And look at what it's doing to our father. To me. I thought I had lost you before, and now you leave me again."

"I won't be leaving you." Keren stopped short and took both her sister's hands in hers. "This time you know where I will be, and that I will be coming back."

"Do I?" Palen whispered. "It's still the Wild, Keren."

"And I will be travelling with someone who has defended himself and others for thousands of years."

Palen shuddered.

"What?" Palen's motion touched a nerve with Keren.

"Does it not bother you?" Palen asked. "It would bother me. He is so ancient, and yet he looks the same age as Dannor. I could not trust someone whose countenance did not match what they actually were."

"I trust him completely, in every way," Keren said, "for he is part of me now. I would not expect you to understand."

"What's that supposed to mean?" It was Palen's turn to stop and turn to face her sister. "Just because Dannor and I have not bonded, whatever that is, is it somehow not enough? Do I not love him as much as you love Legolas?"

"Shhh, please let's not fight," Keren said softly. "We must stay loyal to each other."

"But how can I Keren, how can I, when you are not loyal, when you are choosing an elf over us?" She whispered viciously, conscious of their voices echoing down the hall.

"I'm - " Keren was so hurt she could barely speak, and her voice came out in a choked whisper. "I'm not." Her older sister had never been bigoted or closed-minded, and Keren was shocked at the vehemence she put into the word elf.

Palen must have felt immediate guilt, for she went pale and exhaled deeply. She took her sister's hand and pulled her into their room, shutting the door firmly behind them. She sank onto her old bed, Dannis not stirring, and Keren slowly sat down on her own, watching her sister calm down.

"I'm sorry," Palen began. "I did not mean that, you know I did not."

"You don't like him at all do you?" Keren realised.

"It - it's not that. He is very… impressive, and when you are together I can see how much you love each other, for I am not blind. And that makes me very happy. I know he will protect you with his life, he is utterly devoted. But still, the more I think about what they did to mother - and it does not make it any better that the Lady Galadriel said it was to bring about your birth, it makes it much, much worse - I find myself thinking of elves with some scorn. They are wise, yes, and proud, but do they have hearts, Keren? Is everything they do just to fulfil some grand mission written in the stars? Do they follow blindly, even if it means good people have to die? Our mother?"

"Mother did not have to die, Palen," Keren said gently. "Galadriel sent her back to have me - she could not have foreseen that mother would not recover." Keren winced as she said it, and doubted herself, for Galadriel absolutely could have foreseen it.

"But I don't understand Keren. If it was so important that you were born could they not have sent her back to have you, then allowed you both to live in Lórien?"

"And leave father to live without his wife and youngest child?" Keren shook her head.

"Is that not coming to pass now anyway?" Palen said quietly, bitterly.

The sisters sat in silence, neither knowing what to say, both feeling far smaller than the things they spoke of.

"Why are you so important to Galadriel?" Palen said eventually.

"I don't know," Keren whispered.

Palen huffed in annoyance. "How can you trust them if they don't tell you what is happening?"

"Legolas does not know either," Keren replied quickly. "I'm not even sure Galadriel does, not really."

A shadow had started to creep from under the clothes chest as the sun began to set. Keren sighed.

"I need to get ready," she said awkwardly. "It starts at dusk."

Palen looked solemn. "And you know why I cannot come?"

Keren nodded. "I understand. Dannis needs his grandfather."

Palen teared up as she looked at her son's face. "But I also want his aunt to be in his life." She took a breath, and pulled herself together, laying Dannis on the bed. "You know I will be there tonight in my heart," she said, and bent to kiss Keren's head as she stood. "Now, let's get you into this."

She reached for the green gown that had been hanging airing beside the window. It would be the third time Keren had worn it - she felt it was fitting to wear what she had the night Legolas had first loved her, the gown that was part of the prophecy. A shimmer flitted through her brain, the thought of Faramir seeing her in it too, that very first time down by the gates of the city, as he had ridden away, she thought, to his death. So much had changed. When she left for the Greenwood she would not be taking it with her, and she did not think she would ever wear it again after tonight. It was time to move on from prophecies.

"Beregond!" Keren had tried to enter the room with the calm and dignified presence of the betrothed of an elven prince, but as soon as she saw her old friend she scampered across to him and flung her arms about him. "Are you well, are you well?"

Beregond laughed in true delight to see her so happy.

"Very well, I thank thee, Keren. It is foolish to ask if you too are well, for I see you are, and more."

She looked up at him, happy but concerned. "But - but how are you here? They do know you're here?"

"It is Prince Faramir we have to thank," Beregond spotted the briefest spasm of discomfort flitting across Keren's face, "for he begged leave of the King to allow me one night in the city, in order to wish you joy."

"He asked the King for you to attend, despite not being invited himself?" Keren was not sure how to feel.

"He did." Beregond said simply. "And he wishes you great happiness."

To her great annoyance Keren felt an emotional tug at her throat, again more of a memory of the past than anything else. But she had found her future now.

"Please, when you next see him, tell him I wish the same for him," she said, honestly, feeling surprisingly unshaken. "That is if we do not all meet in Rohan before then. You are going?"

"As Faramir's guard only, not as an invited guest. But still, it is a chance to travel again."

"Is Bergil here?" Keren asked, looking around for Beregond's son.

"Somewhere, with Borlas and their mother. Ah, there!" He located his family and waved them over.

Orel, his wife, smiled in recognition upon seeing Keren, and none too gently dragged her younger son by the hand over to say hello. Bergil, the elder, now a tall but stocky youth of thirteen, started to run over, then abruptly stopped, smoothed down his hair and bowed low.

"Mistress," he said quietly.

Keren snorted.

"Very convincing, Bergil," she laughed.

But he looked up at her with his big brown eyes, and looked hurt. Keren felt shock and shame. He truly had wished to greet her as he would a lady, or someone who garnered a large amount of respect. Was she really so changed?

"Oh, hello," she said awkwardly. "Um, thank you. I hope you are well too? How is Ithilien treating you all?" She opened the question up to the family, so as to avoid the look of wariness in Bergil's eyes. She was not the Keren he had once loved like an older sister. This was a young woman of strange fates and odd chances, who did not seem to belong to the healers, to his childhood, anymore.

Beregond smoothly covered for his son's behaviour, and began telling her of their home, sheltered within a green valley between craggy hills, just half a mile from the house of his lord. She was interested to hear of their new life, of course, but at some point she lost the ability to follow Beregond's words, for at that moment her betrothed walked in, and her jaw almost dropped. Beregond fortunately, amusedly, noticed and stopped talking. All eyes were on Legolas.

The velvet green tunic he wore matched the shade of her gown exactly, down to the exact dark and light hues when he passed through shadow and out again. He must have ordered it to be crafted especially. Or perhaps…

"A gift to him from the Lady of Lórien," a voice said next to her. She turned slightly, not taking her eyes off the elf. It was Gimli who had spoken. "She's canny that one. And he carried it the whole way back - your head might have even rested upon it in his pack as you slept." The dwarf chuckled. Keren smiled weakly back.

Is there anything Galadriel had not thought of, she wondered, and whilst there was still humour in the thought, there was now also a creeping fog of unease. Were she and Legolas merely following Galadriel's 'grand mission' as Palen had caused it? To what purpose was all this for? But she shrugged the fear away, and did not care either way, for she loved him, and if they were puppets of Galadriel, even of Elbereth herself, what of it? She was happy, as was he.

Legolas made his way through the small crowd - made up mostly of the Greenwood elves, Erebor dwarves and a few select healers dressed up in their finest - to get to Keren's side, nodding with thanks at the many words of congratulations. He wore a silver circlet upon his brows, making the reflected candlelight dance about his silver hair. He greeted her by bowing slightly, taking her hand and kissing it, but she saw the look in his eye - when they were alone he promised far more than that. His lips where they met her skin sent a shiver through her.

Legolas rose, and Keren introduced him to Beregond formally. They had fought together at the Morannon, had been at Cormallen and Rohan at the same time, but never spoken. Both bowed deeply, for each had seen the measure of the other, and in courage and loyalty they found themselves to be equal.

Keren felt she had a lot of people to acknowledge and speak to that evening, and after a time she excused herself and made her way to the little cluster of healers that stood in a corner, looking as if all their birthdays had come at once. Only the Warden seemed to take things in his stride. Ioreth was pointing constantly at the fashions the elves were wearing, the richness of the dwarves jewels, and she marvelled at Keren's appearance.

"Like an elf yourself," she beamed. "Although more the height of the dwarves there. And of course the elven folk are more…" With a nudge from a younger woman she stopped and stuttered. "But - but beautiful, Keren, beautiful."

Keren smiled. She was not, never would be, a beauty by elven standards, but tonight she looked her best, and felt so happy she found such things did not particularly concern her anyway. Suddenly Ioreth's eyes threatened to pop out of her head, and she made a courtesy to someone behind her.

"Many congratulations," a gentle voice said, and Keren turned to see who it belonged to, for she did not recognise it.

Before her stood the Queen, the Lady Arwen, ready with a smile and a kiss to her cheek in greeting. Keren curtsied low, but at the same time two horns blared out an alarum as the King entered the room. Arwen moved to be by his side, but not before shooting a glance at Keren with some urgency in her grey eyes. We need to talk, it said.

The whole room made reverence to the King, who took his place at the long table that had been laid out for all the guests. At that sign all the other folk found their places. Keren's throat felt a little dry with nerves, for Legolas was opposite her, as was the custom, and next to her was the highest ranking male guest, the King himself. The Queen was next to Legolas. Was Keren expected to make conversation with them both for the whole meal? She felt so utterly ordinary, and caught Legolas's eye, sending a silent message to him to do most of the talking.

"My betrothed is I think feeling a little nervous to be in such illustrious company," he said. "But I would not have her feel so, for she deserves her place here."

Keren frowned, confused. "How do I?" she asked, baffled, and temporarily forgot her shyness.

Arwen smiled. "As a mortal wedding an elf you will be written into the annals of history. A marriage with such challenges as yours will face is worthy of recognition. The choice both of you have made to cleave to one another is a brave one, and deserving of a place in our histories."

Then her husband spoke quietly.

"My wife speaks true, and her opinion is more qualified than any on the subject, along with, perhaps, my own."

Legolas smiled at his friend, but Arwen again looked at Keren in a way that let it be known that, before the evening was through, she wished to find time alone to speak.

Keren found the nerves to look the King in the eye. "Thank you for all of this." She looked around the room in awe at the architecture and furnishings. The King's House had been brought back to life since the days she used to run furtively through its deserted corridors to the balcony.

"It is a just gift," the King said. "Without Legolas I would not have won through to Gondor, nor would the ring-bearer's quest have succeeded. Your betrothed was a vital member of our fellowship, and I owe him my life many times over."

At this the food was brought, and the scattered conversation was on more varied, less serious, subjects. Course after course came, with wine, but Keren was careful to keep a clear head, for she felt she needed her wits about her. After the final course was cleared, the King stood and addressed the room.

"Friends of Keren, daughter of Maleron, and Legolas, son of Thranduil," he began, and Keren felt bitter regret pour over her as neither of the fathers Aragorn named had deigned to be present, so it was down to himself to give a speech, "we are brought together tonight to celebrate in joy."

He bid them both stand and face the guests, hand in hand.

"Tonight we witness this couple's desire to wed, having pledged their troth to each other and, as is the elvish custom, each given and received the gift of a silver ring. They shall marry next year, on a date of their choosing, and on that day history shall be made in Middle-Earth, for it will be the first wedded union of an elf to a mortal maid."

Keren felt Legolas squeeze her hand, imperceptible to the other guests. Neither of them liked to dwell on that point, for all it was an exciting occurrence for everyone else.

"Join with me now in wishing them all happiness and good fortune for their future together." Aragorn raised his cup, and all in the room stood and raised theirs. "To Keren and Legolas."

"Keren and Legolas!" The room rang with the sound of their names. Keren looked around at all the smiling faces, and could not help feeling that all those dearest to her were not there to share in her happiness. But Legolas's hand was in hers, and whenever it was she felt invincible. She was fortunate indeed, and it was wrong of her to dwell on the things that were not perfect. Things would come out right. Of all things Keren was reminded of the night in Rohan when Legolas had supported her, looked after her, when she had been so depressed about Faramir's own betrothal. Even then he had bonded with her and cared for her despite seeing her loving another. The force of his love shook her as she realised how hard it must have been for him. In front of everyone she stood on tiptoes and kissed his mouth, which caused a great cheer to go up from the guests, and Gimli to start a round of applause.

Music struck up from a gallery high above their heads, a hidden group of musicians waiting for a suitable cue. It was the start of hours of dancing and merriment that went on into the early hours, a wonderful mixture of traditional folk dances that Keren knew back to front, and more stately court tunes. It was during one such piece, whilst she was nursing her first full cup of wine - she assumed her betrothal duties were over - that she felt a gentle touch at her elbow, and there was Arwen.

"Walk with me," she said quietly, and together they left the room. If any noticed them going it was not commented upon.

They walked down the now well-lit corridors and turned corners until Keren was quite lost. The Queen was a silent figure at her side, although not a malevolent one. Her presence was calming and reassuring, despite Keren not knowing where they were headed. Soon they made their way into a familiar passage, and she found herself out on the balcony which was so much a part of her past it hurt. Why had Arwen brought her here? Did she somehow know of its significance?

"Here we can talk and not be overheard by any except the stars," Arwen began, "and I want them to hear what we speak of."

Keren was silent, not knowing what to say, and fairly sure anything she did say would not be useful. She instead looked around, taking in the place where she had sat curled in the corner reading as a child - there was Palen too - and then much later, where she had folded herself, feeling broken, utterly defeated, over the wall as Faramir abruptly left her. And then… there was Legolas. He must have been standing exactly where she was now.

"I will never say 'do not do this'," Arwen said, as abrupt as an elf could sound. "Your bonding with Legolas will bring you more joy than you have ever known. But I feel you do not need to hear me say that it will bring you the most pain you have ever known also. The courses of your life are vastly different, even more so than for myself and my husband. You will need an ally, a friend, someone who understands what it is to love someone at the cost of all other happiness. At the cost of a father."

And now Keren understood. The Queen was offering her support, but was also, perhaps, seeking it for herself. Keren remembered well the night in Rohan that was the last time Arwen, daughter of Elrond, saw her father. Their parting was irreversible, their bond broken by the very matter of the earth - whatever happened after death, they would not see each other again in life or out of it. It was a fate far worse than Keren could begin to imagine for herself and her father.

"Legolas will also need guidance, a companion, a friend," Arwen went on, "for despite his many years and great wisdom why should he face this alone when there are friends to help him bear it? Whenever either of you feel the weight of your future bearing down upon you, know that my husband and I will always be here, for both of you. For we share your fate. The four of us alone upon earth, to our knowledge, share this fate. Already I have seen my love age from youth to the pinnacle of manhood, and he has lived near ninety years. For Legolas that time shall be even shorter. You must be brave for him, and face the inevitable parting that will come - slowly for you, but as a breath to him. He will hide this from you, this pain, as I try and hide it from Estel, but you know, Estel knows, that we are terrified. That every day we see you taken from us a little more."

Arwen's voice wavered. "It is a blessing to me, to all of us, that we were all brought together, strange as it may seem. But something tells me, Keren, that yours shall be the strangest fate, though I cannot foresee it or guard you against it. I know my future, for though I have forsaken immortality, it shall still be many hundreds of years until my body and spirit is spent. Estel will be dust before I even begin to fade. For Legolas, once your soul has departed, I know not what the future holds."

"Galadriel did not tell me my future," Keren said. "Though she told me much of my past."

"My grandmother, like many of our kind, knows our place is in the past," Arwen said by way of an explanation. "The time of men is at hand. The last ship will sail before my husband's passing, I am sure, but I cannot say if Legolas will be upon it."

"He wishes to sail," Keren replied. "And I am sure he will. But I must thank you, my Queen, for - "

"Please, call me Arwen."

"Arwen. I must thank you for all you are offering. I am afraid of what is to come, though I am trying not to be. All I know is that I love Legolas more than I can explain. I cannot know any more than that."

"And it is your love for him that will overcome all," Arwen said, and Keren shuddered, for she had quoted a line from the prophecy almost verbatim. Elves could be so desperately unnerving. "Keep that knowledge in your heart and you will weather any trial that comes."

Keren smiled, a tiny hesitant smile, for she could not help but think of Arwen, a thousand years from now, her love dead and all her trials passed save for one - interminable mourning. This was the fate that she, Keren, would leave her own love to, and it sent a chill to her heart to think of Legolas simply giving up and fading away. She prayed to the stars that he would still sail west, still have a future long after she herself was gone.

"Do you ever doubt your choice?" she asked Arwen quietly, afraid she was prying.

Arwen looked out over the city, under the field of stars. Here she was, an elven Queen of a kingdom of Men, forever sundered from her father, from her people, doomed to walk the earth alone, the last of her kind. All for one man.

"Never," she said.

And as they turned and went back to the dancing, Keren reflected that doubt was very different from regret.