Author note: Oh, crumbs. Here it is. The end of book two. How has this happened? I might give myself a little break after writing so much in the last few weeks, and it feels like a good place to have a breather. I somehow feel perilously close to the end and miles away from it at the same time.

Lovely reviews as always, thank you. I always find it really interesting that what some people think is great, others are like, 'um, did you mean to do that?" And vice versa! Ha. To explain - I think the story goes through phases - action, mystery, romance, drama, and of course people will like some genres more than others, so will inevitably prefer some parts of the tale and think others are a bit meh. I figured there's nothing I can really do about personal preferences, so I'm just going to keep writing what I planned, and hope on the whole it's an enjoyable story. I really would be lost without your reviews and the love you give this story. Even when something isn't to your personal taste you are still so kind with your compliments and kindness, so THANK YOU. x

Chapter Eighteen - Family

Keren and Palen stood side by side at the door of their father's small house. Dannis was wide awake and pulling at his mother's hair, which on any other occasion would have caused giggles and amused huffing from her, but today added to her short-temperedness. She had come to support both Keren and her father in what could potentially be their last conversation, and she could feel nothing but a general anxiety, which at this current moment her baby son was not helping.

"Oh, Dannis stop!" she snapped, as her son yanked on a particularly large strand of her dark hair. Little Dan, who was now eight months old, gurgled and put the lock of hair in his mouth. Keren would have laughed, but she was tense as well.

"It will be alright," she said as much to herself as to Palen, before she knocked on the door.

They heard heavy footsteps, and Maleron appeared in the doorway. He did not slam the door in Keren's face, which she had feared.

"Please may I come in?" Keren managed to say, and she took him walking back inside and leaving the door open as a yes. Together the sisters followed him into the little parlour at the back of the house. He did not offer them anything, but did pat Dannis's head gently by way of greeting. All three of them sat around the wooden table in front of the fireplace.

Keren had debated how to begin the conversation, with both Legolas and Palen. Even Arwen had offered to help, having undergone a similar talk herself. But nothing had prepared Keren for the fear she now felt, seeing the effect her news had had on her father. He was thinner, greyer, older. Was it possible that her happiness could have caused him so much pain?

She knew not how to begin, but in the end it was Maleron that spoke first.

"I see your elf has not deigned to come to me himself, has not come here with you today, to be by your side. A fine protector, clearly worthy of your heart."

White hot rage shot through Keren.

"That is unfair," she said quickly. "He stays away for my sake. You threatened to kill him if he came here and, though you would have no chance of doing it, I have made him promise to stay away in case either of you get hurt. For I cannot promise that he would not hurt you."

Palen sighed and rolled her eyes. This was off to an excellent start.

Maleron huffed in disdain.

"You expect me to believe you care if I live or die? After the choice you made? No Keren, you have made your choice, you have made it quite clear you care nothing for me, despite all your words when you returned. Like mother, like daughter. Choose your elf lover over your family. Run away with him. I care not."

"But you do care, father," Palen interjected, gently. "Of course you do. And of course Keren does not want you to die, nor does she truly think Legolas will harm you." And she glared at her sister for suggesting so.

"Silence from you, Palen!" he shouted.

And there was a moment's silence, all three sat frozen, whilst Dannis happily babbled away, unaware that the future of his family was being decided.

"I am not 'running away with him'", Keren said eventually, trying to stop her voice from shaking. "We are travelling to Rohan to see his friend married, and from there we go to visit his father. Then we return to Gondor, and I shall never be more than a days ride away from here, that is all."

But Maleron was unbending. Keren tried another approach, and tried to remember the speech she had prepared, but her heart was too full. It seemed an insult to him to reel off something she had written out of fear.

"Father, I understand your anger, and your fear, and the fact you feel I have betrayed you. I even understand your hatred for Legolas's people. But I ask you to remember something - I am not my mother. I have my own life, and my own choices, and my own spirit. I'm not simply a copy of her. Neither is Palen a copy of you, though to you she has made the 'right' choices."

Maleron bristled, so she hastily went on before he could stop her.

"I am not trying to defend their actions around mother, but my time with the elves did the opposite of what you feared, can't you see that? It brought us back together, for it shone the light of truth on all that had gone before. It helped me understand you. Now I ask you to try and understand me. Legolas truly loves me, father - I am at a loss to explain it, but he does. He would die for me. His life will be full of sorrow because of me, and yet he wants me to be his wife. And I love him so much."

Her voice became fierce, and her eyes shone. She had not had to defend him before, and she liked the feeling.

"He is kind-hearted, he is good - there is no evil in him, no ill-will, no greed. He fights to defend all the fair and good things in the world, to bring justice and balance and harmony. He is funny and warm, quick-witted. He is fiercely loyal, trustworthy, brave. He is humble, gentle, and complex, and wise beyond measure. I love him so much."

She said it again, and it felt good. She had not said it to anyone but Legolas himself before. Now it was out there, a defiant statement, and yet somehow vulnerable too.

"I am sorry that I did not tell you sooner," she went on. "It breaks my heart to think that we might lose each other again because of my folly. But I was scared - not scared of what you would say to me, not scared of your anger - I was scared of hurting you. Like you were scared of hurting me and Palen by telling us the truth about our mother. All the hurts in this family have been caused by not wanting to hurt each other. And that could only have come from a place of love. Please open your heart a little and see that."

For a moment she thought she had touched his heart, for he looked at her with an open face rather than a glare or a sneer. But then a blankness came into his eyes and he shook his head.

"I see the elf has already taught you how to deceive with fair words, words you know I wish to hear." And he was not angry, but bitterly sad. "Your mother did the same. They taught her well too. Go to Rohan, daughter, and then journey through the Wilderland. But upon your return, though I wish you well, do not darken my door again. I cannot welcome the wife of an elf as my daughter. I love you, Keren, and I always will, my youngest child. But I cannot forgive you."

Keren broke all the rules of propriety within the King's House that night, but she did not turn even one thought towards what people would think. Her bed within the Houses lay cold, and she spent the night in Legolas's arms. She had run first, not to him, but to Arwen, who had also been sundered from her father. The Queen held her tightly and let her cry, not needing Keren to tell her what had happened. It was painful to stay strong whilst her heart was aching for her own griefs, but she looked Keren in the eye and told her to listen to her heart, and to not judge herself harshly if it told her her love for Legolas was more powerful than her father's tears, and subsequently her own. This at first had made Keren cry harder, and hate herself, for that was indeed what her heart was saying. But Arwen had been firm.

"There will always be sacrifices that must be made. We should not judge ourselves for loving people too much. Though you do not have his forgiveness, you have his love from afar, and even if you do not meet again, he made the choice to tell you he loves you still, and that cannot fade."

So Keren had gone to Legolas, and by then she was spent, and he did not need to ask what had happened when he found her pale and red-eyed at his door. Neither had spoken, but he kissed her forehead, picked her up gently, cradled in his arms like a child, and laid her on the bed. Together they lay, her head upon his chest, her arm about his waist, his hand stroking her hair, whilst they both stared into space, thinking, until after many hours she slept.

The next week found them preparing for their long travels, but they were not alone. The King and Queen, along with some from the court, were travelling also, with Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth and his fair daughter Lothíriel, in her bridal train, for she was on her way from her homeland to be wedded to Eomer, King of Rohan, and to start her new life among the horse lords. They arrived in Minas Tirith with guests from the Prince's court, and much music and merriment, but Keren had been busy with her last day of work at the Houses, having her own merriment, as Ioreth had organised a farewell party. Few tears were shed at her departure, but many came just to say they had been there when the famous elf-wife of Gondor left their humble Houses of Healing. Ioreth was one of the few that held her close and wished her well.

"And you will come back and see us?" she had asked, although it sounded more like an instruction, and she didn't wait for an answer before bursting into tears. "…losing my best healer… and the kindest." Keren caught amongst the muffled sobs, and she felt humbled that the old woman thought so much of her. Ioreth had been a strict but reliable presence in her life.

"Goodbye, Ioreth," she said. "Thank you for teaching me so well, and for all your care when I most needed it. And please look after yourself," she added, for the formerly indestructible healer had been looking a little shaky lately.

When the sun rose the next morning Keren looked around her tiny room. Her last night in it she had expected to sleep fitfully, but she had awoken from a solid rest, and now all there was left to do was sweep and make sure it was clean for the new healers who would soon take her and Palen's places. It was a strange, melancholy feeling, leaving a room that for many years had witnessed feelings and thoughts of hers that no person ever had. As she shut the door for the last time she could not help whispering a goodbye. She smiled as she turned to see Legolas waiting for her in the hallway.

"Alright?" he asked gently.

"I think so," she replied. "I will miss the old place. But it's time to go."

He picked up her large pack with most of her belongings in it, whilst she took the smaller upon her back.

"And you are happy that you are going with me?" He held out his hand.

"So very happy," she said, and took his hand. Together they walked the corridors of the Houses, and there was no large crowd to see them off, no-one waving or cheering, no-one even to open the doors for them. It was business as usual for the healers and their servants. One final time they went to the gardens, and stood beneath the willow, now green and abundant, and thanked it for it's part in bringing them together. Then they left the Houses by the main doors, and Keren never came there again.

The day before their departure Keren lay sleeping in Legolas's bed. Aragorn had raised an eyebrow or two when he realised that his friend had not been alone in his rooms, but Legolas had no shame in explaining Keren's grief, and that he had long lectured her on the rules of elven marriage.

When she awoke, late into the morning, she assessed her feelings. She was a long way from coming to terms with what had happened with her father, but she was focussed on what lay ahead rather than dwelling on what belonged in the past and could not be changed. She turned around, already anticipating the thrill of Legolas's kiss fully waking her, but he was not there.

"Legolas?" She called into the adjoining room, but there was no answer. She felt no worry or fear, for he was often called away for meetings with the King, and no doubt he had left her sleeping, not wanting to wake her. She lay back down to doze, knowing that rest and sleep would be hard to come by until they reached Edoras.

Legolas, meanwhile, was not with the King, but was knocking on a door of a familiar house. When the door opened the occupant blinked in surprise, for she was not used to seeing the elf without her sister.

"Oh," she said by way of greeting, not rudely, but confused. But then fear drew across her features. "Is Keren…?"

"Keren is sleeping, and is well," he said, and watched as the worry-lines disappeared from Palen's brow, but a frown creased her eyebrows. She was wondering what the purpose of his visit was, and she did not yet invite him in. He could hear Dannis banging a spoon upon the table.

"I am sorry to intrude," he began. "I have wrestled in my mind on the subject, but I have decided I must go and see your father, I must try to make peace."

Palen's eyes widened with surprise and panic.

"I know of his threats to me, and I do not fear them," he went on, "but I fear what it may do to Keren when she hears we have fought. So I promise you, I will not lay a hand on him in anger or with any intent to harm him. Indeed I do not wish there to even be cross words."

Palen almost laughed, and shook her head.

"You're delusional," she said. "He will not listen."

"He might if you come with me," Legolas replied. "I cannot bear Keren to be separated from her father on my account. I would right this, today, before we leave."

"He has made his decision," Palen said firmly, "though it breaks my heart. If you go to him, it will cause more harm than good. I beg you not to go. He parted with her on the best terms that he could muster. If he sees you it will only breed hatred."

"Mistress Palen, I beg you," Legolas said, not heeding the neighbours that had spied the elf on the doorstep and come to see what was going on. "Let me try to heal this wound that will only fester if left too long. Keren cannot go the rest of her life not seeing her father."

"She barely saw him before all this…" She had gone to say 'before all this trouble started', but the main subject of the trouble was stood before her. "She had learned to deal with it, she can again."

"But that is not good enough for me," Legolas argued. "Why 'deal with it', when we can fix it?"

"What makes you so sure you can fix it?" Palen was growing angry now. "What gives you the right to try to 'fix' my family?"

"Palen!" A man's voice came from within. "Let the poor elf in and stop shouting at him in front of the neighbours."

Dannor appeared behind his wife, Little Dan perched in the crook of his arm.

"Please, friend, come in." He looked at Legolas with the frazzled look of a young man trying to juggle a new child, a new job and an increasingly stressed wife. "My wife is as protective of Keren as you are, but it seems your methods clash," he said as Legolas crouched under the low ceiling, and shut the door behind him.

"He has told Keren he would not go to see father, he would not risk it," Palen said quickly.

"Yes, love, but you cannot seriously think your father would actually do any damage to an elf, a warrior to boot? Nor do you really think Legolas would harm a hair, what little there is of it, on your father's head." Dannor gestured to Legolas to sit, but he stayed standing, neck awkwardly bent, until Palen sat.

Little Dan was bundled awkwardly into his uncomfortable high seat, as he stared at the newcomer. When he was an old man he would always claim that was his first memory, looking across the table at the tall stranger with the pointed ears - the elf who had stolen his mysterious aunt away - but folk would laugh and say at eight months he would not have remembered a thing, and that it was all a story his mother had spun him.

"Say what you like," he would say over his beer. "But I remember him clear as day, and I reckon he's still over there in Ithilien, though my aunt be long dead."

But for now he stared at Legolas, as the elf in turn took a seat, looking and feeling too big for the room.

"So Keren does not know what you are planning?" Palen asked, her face a picture of disapproval. "You have left my little sister blissfully sleeping whilst you break your word to her."

"I wrestled with myself, but yes, I do not want her to worry. No harm will come to me or her father, but she is fearful."

"And rightly so," said Palen, "for, as I said, it will just make things worse."

"Perhaps it will not have an immediate benefit," Legolas conceded. "But it will make him think. It may make things better by the time we have returned."

"What is your plan?" Dannor asked kindly.

"He does not even have to open the door to me, but I just need him to hear what I say."

"Well, if that is the case, perhaps we could just pass the message to him?" Dannor offered.

"I thank you, but he must hear it is my voice, must hear my exact words. He needs to trust me."

Palen shook her head. "That he will never do."

"Wait," Dannor said quietly. "Pal, we could invite your father here. Then, upon seeing Legolas, he can choose to leave, or choose to hear him out."

"It's more likely he'll grab a knife and try to run him through. And, although I am angry, I do not wish for that." She looked across at Legolas. "I do actually like you, you know. Keren thinks I hate you, but I don't. I just wish it did not all have to be so… serious, so complicated. For we are implicated now. Dan," she looked back to her husband, "if we get father here under false pretences he will never forgive me, and he may lose another daughter. I might lose him."

Her voice shook.

"Look." She gathered herself. "I am grateful to you for trying, really I am. But I know my father - his grief, his fear, controls him. And his fear causes him to hate. He is stubborn, he is brittle. You wouldn't understand."

"Try me," said Legolas. "For you have just described my own father, except he has had thousands of years to let his feelings grow. And somehow I persuaded him to accept Keren. Perhaps not on the most loving of terms, but still, he has not disowned me, and he has asked to meet her. If I can get him to come round, I can make your father see reason."

Palen frowned. "Keren described you as humble. You sound far from it. What makes you think my father will bow to your honeyed words - he already has his guard up against them."

"My words will not be honeyed. In fact, they will be cruel, painful to hear. I wish to tell him what our bonding will mean for both of us. I need him to see that neither of us had a choice, that we are not wilfully, selfishly, doing this to cause him pain."

Silence reigned around the table again.

"It could work," Dannor said eventually.

But Palen shook her head again.

"Keren has tried saying that already."

"At least let me try."

Palen sighed.

"Alright. But I have one condition. You do not hide this from Keren. You consult her, and you take her with you. You tell her you have spoken to me and I am supporting you."

"Agreed," said Legolas.

That night, just after sunset, Keren and Palen stood hand in hand in the bedroom, whilst Dannor waited downstairs with Legolas. Keren was shaking with nerves, and quickly removed her hand from Palen's and began pacing.

"This is a terrible idea," she whispered.

"Probably," Palen whispered back. "But it's too late now. What will be will be."

"Why did I agree to this?" Keren stopped her walking to and fro and looked at Palen, stricken.

"Because you're desperate," was Palen's answer.

"He doesn't even want to see me again."

"If things go badly he doesn't have to - stay up here with me, that's the plan."

There was a knocking at the door - Maleron.

Downstairs Dannor looked over at Legolas, who was stood calmly in the centre of the room. Legolas nodded - he was unarmed, and the mere thought of using weapons in this situation felt wrong.

Dannor opened the door and watched as Maleron's face turned grey then puce.

"What is this?" He was too angry, too shocked to shout. His voice came out as a harsh croak. 'I'll kill you now, elf." He pointed a finger at Legolas from the doorstep.

"You would not, Maleron," Dannor said. "You could not, for a start. Please, just hear him out."

"You - you organised this?" Maleron glared at him. "Where is my daughter?"

"She is out, with Keren. Neither of them know that I have arranged this. Legolas did not know until he arrived." Keren raised her eyebrows at Palen. Her cheerful husband could clearly be an incredibly calm liar.

"I thought you were a good man, Dannor." Maleron took a step into the room, and shut the door. It made the atmosphere ten times more dangerous. "But now I see both my daughters are just pathetic girls drawn to pretty faces."

The girls upstairs looked at each other and had the strangest reaction. Both had to silence their laughter. Terrified, frantic, angry laughter. But when that was done they clung to each other, hearts pounding.

"Careful, Maleron," Dannor said, suddenly angry at the slight at his wife. "Neither of us want to fight."

"That is the last thing I want." Legolas spoke, softly, his lilting voice sounding so strange, so out of place, in the tiny house.

"Do not even speak to me!" Maleron suddenly found the strength in his voice, and spittle gathered at the corner of his mouth as he yelled at Legolas. Upstairs Keren shut her eyes, torn between rushing downstairs into the heat of things, or escaping out of the bedroom window. "I know your tricks, I know how you have seduced my daughter, how you have turned her head. But it will not work with me, I will not give your words power, I will not let you use your evil magic on me."

"My words tonight will give you information only," Legolas said simply.

"Will you not listen to him, for Keren's sake?" Dannor asked, agitatedly.

"It is because of him I have forsaken Keren!" He fiddled at his belt, and there suddenly in his hand was a knife - a dull, blunt eating knife that all men carried on their person - but a knife nonetheless.

"Maleron, don't be a fool," Dannor said, as calmly as he could. "We are two trained warriors. That could barely cut a carrot."

"You would kill me, is that what you're saying? Son?" He sneered at the word. "To defend this?" And he waved his knife in the direction of Legolas.

Upstairs the girls had worked out that a weapon was now involved, and it took everything in their power to remain silent.

"No, of course not," Dannor replied. "There will be no killing. So put the knife away, and let the man talk."

"But he's not a man is he?" Maleron said quickly. "He's from a race of evil, disguised by beauty."

"He is not evil, elves are not evil. A handful are, maybe, just the same as men. There is only one source of evil in this room, and it is your belligerent hatred of an entire race because of the actions of a few. And even then, can you truly say that their actions were evil?"

"You shut your mouth!" Maleron roared. "You don't know what you're talking about!" He took a step closer to Dannor, all the while shooting wary glances at Legolas, expecting him to spring.

"My wife has told me the tale. I know it all, Maleron, and I'm sorry. But Legolas did not kill your wife. All he has done is fall in love with your daughter, like I did with Palen."

Maleron froze, took a few heavy, quick breaths through his nose, then charged at them both.

The brawl was almost comical, Legolas and Dannor trying to avoid even touching Maleron, whilst still attempting to get the knife out of his hand. Maleron, though, had fought at the Morannon, and knew a trick or two. Due to their complete lack of attack, he managed to elbow Dannor in the chest, and slice Legolas's cheek, before his arm was seized and the knife wrestled from his grip. All three gaped in surprise, for neither Legolas nor Dannor had done it.

Keren stood behind her father, the knife in her hand, white-faced and shaking, but when she spoke she was calm.

"I love everyone in this room, and it grieves me to have caused this. Dannor, thank you for trying. Legolas, it did not work. Father… Father, goodbye." She looked each of them in the eye in turn, laid the knife on the table, then swung the door open and marched out.

Palen, who had been awkwardly hovering on the stairs after trying to grab her sister when she bolted from the bedroom, ran after her.

"It's done Pal, it's over. We tried, and failed." Keren walked briskly as the road curved higher.

"Will you not say goodbye to me?" Palen's voice was strangely small, calling from behind her, and Keren came to a faltering stop.

"I - I don't want to," she said. "For it isn't goodbye."

"Then why do I feel like it is?" Palen asked, and Keren would always remember her sister at that moment, standing still, the torches in the road casting her face in flickering shadow. She walked towards her, and took her hand.

"I don't know," Keren said as she reached her. "But it isn't. I promise it isn't."

The next day, after a sleepless night, Keren and Legolas were riding across the Pelennor in a great train, both atop Arod. She sat in front of him, nestled into his body. The cut on his cheek was already just a scar.

"That was too close," she said in Sindarin.

"I was never in any real danger," he reassured her, but she found she could not answer.

"I am sorry," he said. "I should never have suggested it."

"No," Keren said quietly.

"Never again will I try to mend something you tell me cannot be mended. I will trust you."

"I love you Greenleaf, just don't try and fight all my battles for me. I got through some well enough before you came along to help."

He smiled with pride.

"Noted, my love."

He slowed Arod to a walk, in order to drop away from anyone who could overhear - many Gondorian nobles spoke the tongue of the Sindar.

"Afterwards, when you had left, I thought we might get somewhere," Legolas spoke again. "He was calmer. Shaken up, I think. I said my piece, and he did not interrupt. But nor did he speak, and then he just left."

Keren sighed. "All we can do is wait and see what happens upon our return. Whenever that will be."

She turned and looked back at the city, already tiny as they neared the Rammas Echor. For the second time she was leaving it to journey to Rohan, on her way to a kingdom of elves. What would await her this time? She was about to turn again, but her eyes were drawn to a shade of black that was familiar. Shining hair, curling at the neck. Her insides went cold.

He sat upon Celtir, his grey horse that had born him into battle on that fateful day, and his smile beamed as he spoke with his wife, riding her own horse side-saddle beside him, despite being heavily pregnant. Keren almost had a smile for the familiar stubbornness of her, determined to make the journey to see her brother wed. His face, still beardless, was unchanged, for it had not even been two years, though it felt like a different life. He did not look in her direction, could not see her, and he was far off, but for a certainty it was Faramir, son of Denethor, riding behind them in the train.

She turned away from the sight of him, and leant back against Legolas, wanting to feel him closer. No longer was her heart seeking adventure, or elves, or mountains, all to rid herself of the memory of Faramir, not like her last ride north. Now she understood that all those desires had simply been leading her to find her past, her truth, and ultimately her love for Legolas.

She found herself scanning the sky for an eagle high above, the good omen that had followed her and her beloved elf as they had left Edoras together, but the skies above the Pelennor were clear.

"Are you ready for your next adventure?"

As always her betrothed's words were perfectly in sync with her thoughts.

Keren sighed, thinking of the man that rode behind her, the elf that held her close, the lands that lay ahead.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

END OF BOOK TWO

Author note: I'll see you all in Edoras for an awkward reunion at the start of the FINAL BOOK!