Author note: Happy new year everyone, and welcome to the Third and Final Book! I wonder if this one will take two years to write, like the other two each did?! I hope everyone had a lovely holiday season wherever in the world you are. I'm currently uploading this whilst listening to some beautiful LOTR ambience and music :)

A warning, this chapter is LONG. I tried my best to cut it in two but it just didn't want to obey me. Some of this stuff was written weeks ago with earlier chapters, and I needed it all to join together coherently. So apologies, but I think it would have suffered from being spliced!

*Another, important, warning - there may be triggers for some in this chapter re. pregnancy, fertility and childbirth - that's all I can say without giving too much away. If this is a sensitive topic for you it may be best to skim read, as I would hate to upset anyone.* If you feel in any previous chapters I should have given warnings for violence, or potentially emotional/triggering scenes, please let me know and I will update accordingly.

You may have noticed I've edited the blurb for this story (where FF visitors search for new stuff to read). I thought it would be nice to feature some reviews to hopefully draw more new readers in (TheRoadtoHell666 and daughterofthechief it's your words I've nabbed, if you're at all unhappy about this please let me know and I will remove them). Although of course I'm amazingly grateful for the hundreds (!) of you that are already following Keren's adventures. I hope very much that this last book does not let you down x

Previously: When Keren's mother dies, she and her sister Palen find work and a new home within the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith. Keren's mother had secretly left her a crystal, containing the voice of Elbereth herself, who gives her guidance in times of need. She believes it's prophecy foretells her union with Faramir, but it is Eowyn, the White Lady of Rohan, that he chooses, leaving Keren bereft, and feeling betrayed by her guide. She turns to her new friends, including the elf, Legolas, for support.

Wishing to escape the shadow of what might have been, she travels to Lothlorien to learn more of her mother's past. She is given a new name, Ciraen, though she keeps this secret from everyone, and upon her return home realises it is Legolas who the crystal was guiding her to. Their bonding and betrothal drives Keren's father to disown her, and together they travel north to Legolas's homeland, in the hopes that his father will support them.

BOOK THREE

Chapter One - The healer and the King

Eowyn was warm. Too warm. The pains she had begun to feel the last day of the journey, the pains she had thought were just from being too long in the saddle, had gotten far, far worse.

The ceremony had almost finished, Meduseld filled with hundreds of people all moving towards the door to witness the hand-fasting, and she was sweating, gritting her teeth beneath her forced smile. Her brother, her dear older brother, was married, and she was happy, proud. But none of it seemed to matter when faced with the blinding pains that ripped then pulsed around her belly and back. She must have let out an uncharacteristic whimper, for she felt her husband's hand at her back, and when he turned to her he was frowning with concern.

"It's the babe," she whispered, her voice sounding miles away. "It's coming. Or I pray that is what is happening. It is beyond it's time after all. The riding must have finally stirred it."

Speaking seemed to sap her energy, and she sank down onto the hard wooden bench at the front of the hall by the dais, unseen by all but her husband.

Faramir knelt before her, putting a hand to her forehead. He knew it was wise to hold his tongue, despite wanting to berate his wife for choosing to ride hundreds of miles when her birthing time was imminent. But he had known it would have been pointless to try to stop her from being at her brother's side, in her own country, to see him married. He had begged her to at least consider a litter, but the ice in her eyes showed him what she had thought of that suggestion. She had ridden all the way, in true Rohirric style, and now their child was to be born in Edoras, her home, as she had always secretly hoped.

"You are very hot," he muttered. "You need to be abed now, and I will send for a midwife."

"No, it is too soon," Eowyn replied. "The pains are not close enough yet - you will be wasting her time. And the feasting has not even begun, we will miss it."

"There will be no feasting for you now, my love, nor for me," he said, as he helped her up, and they began walking towards the archway leading to the private chambers.

As one couple reached one door, another reached the other. Keren and Legolas had not seen any of Eowyn's troubles, and were with the hundreds of other guests, now spreading out over the slopes of the hill top and the stones of the terrace. The townsfolk had also gathered on the lower hills - everywhere Keren looked there were people. Eomer and Lothíriel stood together beneath the great arched entrance to Meduseld, and there they kissed, and were hand-fasted. Keren cheered and clapped along with everyone, but she and Legolas shared a private look. This was their future too. Keren wondered what their ceremony would entail - a blending of Elvish and Gondorian traditions, she hoped. Who would be there to witness it?

The guests mingled for a while outside whilst the servants rearranged the heavy oaken tables and benches inside Meduseld, preparing for the great feast that was to come. Eowyn, meanwhile, had obeyed her husband and taken to her bed. She would not tell him of course, but she was starting to worry. The pain was now constant, and she was sure it was far too soon for that to be the case. Nor did it seem to be focussed on her belly, but was instead all down her legs, and up her spine. She felt weak and faint, not at all ready to push a babe out. Faramir had arranged for a midwife to come to her, and the woman was there now, trying to keep Eowyn cool with damp cloths at her wrists and temples.

"Is it normal to have a fever?" Eowyn asked, making her head pound.

"There is no such thing as 'normal' in childbirth, my lady," the good wife replied. "Every woman is different. You are just overheated from the strong pains, and from your long journey."

"But is it a cause for concern?" Faramir asked as he came back into the room, catching the conversation.

"Everything is a cause for concern in the act of birthing babes," was the unhelpful reply. "But as long as I am vigilant, and the lady is strong, there should be no real danger."

But I don't feel strong, Eowyn longed to scream. I don't feel strong enough to do this.

She lay back on the pillows, and thought of all the horses she had seen giving birth. The wide, rolling eyes, the enormous, engorged bodies, skin stretched tight over the rippling muscles, the scent of fear as the mare sweated and snorted. And then the spindly thing that appeared, that almost always was well and whole. But the times when it was not, the times when the foals were born dead, or died shortly after… She heard a whimpering sound, and realised it was herself. Faramir was immediately at her side.

"You're alright, my love," he said, taking her hand. "I won't let any harm come to you. And our child will be born in the land of your forefathers, who carry far more pride than my own can claim."

Eowyn placed her hands gently on her swollen belly, but even as she did she felt a wave of nausea, and shut her eyes tightly against the swimming sensation. She had not been able to see Faramir's face, and she was afraid - not because she could not see him, but at the realisation that she felt fear when he was not visible to her. When had she become so dependant on him? She concentrated on the feel of his strong hand in hers, and tried not to let the fear overtake her. Every minute she berated herself for feeling afraid. This was a simple matter, she told herself, and she should be up on her feet minutes after giving birth, she was sure. She did not recognise herself, and decided if this was what pregnancy did to her she would rather not venture to try it again. But of course that would have other implications. She had not meant for it to happen, but Faramir was her whole life now - a fact that both pleased and irritated her. She had longed for love, but had not expected it to consume her so completely.

The midwife replaced the now warm cloths with fresh ones. She was a little concerned, but it was far too soon to acknowledge it to the couple. She had seen this happen many times, and normally all was well in the end. Not every time, mind, but no need to worry them yet.

The feast began, richer and greater than the one Keren remembered from the last time she had feasted here, for this was a gathering to celebrate a marriage, not a death. Legolas had sat beside her then too, as he was now, whilst she had tried to drink herself into oblivion over Faramir being in the same room. She wondered where Faramir was now, for she belatedly realised she had not seen him since they had all entered the hall before the ceremony. Their paths had not crossed much since their arrival in Edoras - she had said two sentences to Eowyn, and none to him, although their eyes had met. She had smiled, or she thought she had. It seemed to her that he had tried to, but could not. But she was long past reading into such things, for at her side was the great love of her life, her bond-mate, and it all seemed a little laughable now, the extent of her feelings towards this poor man who could not fathom them, nor his own. She sincerely hoped he had forgotten them, whatever troublesome thoughts he had ever had towards her, and loved his new wife honestly and completely, as she loved Legolas.

Eowyn was also missing, she realised, and something shuffled in her brain.

"I think Eowyn may be in labour," she said conspiratorially to Legolas. "I've not seen her or Faramir for hours."

"If so she's picked her moment well," Legolas said amusedly.

"Babies unfortunately do not run to a schedule."

"You have helped at births?" Legolas wondered.

"Many," Keren replied. "Many women come to the Houses to give birth. Poorer ones generally, those who don't have the luxury of lying in. Sometimes women who can't give birth at home, for whatever reason. We don't ask questions."

"And you enjoy it?"

"Not especially. The midwives manage everything normally - if I am called upon it is because things are going wrong and they need healers on hand to assist. I almost feel like an omen of bad luck if I turn up in a birthing room. But of course, sometimes all is well, even if it seems both mother and babe will die. And then there are the times when they both die despite everything going to plan. You can't predict anything when it comes to childbirth."

Legolas did not reply, and gave Keren such a look that it almost frightened her. It was… desperation? No, grief.

Just as she was about to question him a lone horn blew, and the meat was brought up from the spit over the hearth in the middle of the hall. Her stomach's needs were for now more pressing than her mind's.

Eowyn had not rallied, though now she was having to push through all the pain. But she was not pushing hard enough, she knew. She was lost in a world of red and black, the colours she saw when she closed her eyes, her body shaking and straining. She had lost Faramir, though she was still holding his hand. The midwife was at the foot of the bed, and only the top of the child's head yet could she see. The babe was large, and late, and though the labour was progressing quickly the mother - she could not believe it of the famous White Lady of the Rohirrim - was weakening by the second. So foolish she was, the midwife thought, to have used up her strength on the long ride to get here. She must gather herself soon, or the stress upon the child would become too great.

Faramir was beside himself, for he was powerless.

"What can I do? Is there anything I can do?!"

The midwife assessed him with calm but sympathetic eyes.

"Stay calm and tell her to push, she may heed you and obey. For she must push. The babe will become distressed."

Faramir knelt close and whispered in Eowyn's ear.

"Do you hear that, Shieldmaiden? Our little one is tired and wants to meet us, you must help him on his way. Push with all your strength, my love, with all your strength. There will be time to rest, weeks if you wish."

She heard him, but could not speak. She gritted her teeth and when the next pain came she tried again, and this time something happened. A new, searing, tearing pain came from between her legs. It took her breath away and made her gasp with fear and shock.

"'Tis just the head my lady!" The midwife shouted in triumph. "Another push and your baby's face will feel the air of this world."

And with those words Eowyn felt a new strength come from within her. She had had a fever before. She had felt pain before - not like this, never like this - but still. She still could not focus on anything in the room, for her head was swimming, but she could shut her eyes and breathe and focus on her baby. The pain around her body was so constant and present that she felt she simply could not do that again, not when she knew the added pain that was coming, but for her baby she would. She made no sound, for all her energy went down, down through her belly and between her legs. Again there was the burning pain - agony - but then she felt a huge relief.

"Well done, Eowyn!" The midwife cried, forgetting formality, taking the baby's head gently in her hands. "Now I can help you. One or two more of those and you will meet your child."

Faramir felt a brief curiosity to watch his firstborn come into the world, but he wanted to be with his wife - for the first time, he felt, she truly needed him. He had been fearful, but she had won through, as he knew she would.

"Strong, my love, is what you are, and I love you for it," he said, not too gently. "Now keep that strength for one more try, and we will have our child."

And in a last great effort the White Lady of Rohan, Dernhelm, bane of the Witch-King, brought forth into the world a son, who took a little while to cry, but when he did cried lustily and heartily.

Eowyn lay back, spent beyond all strength, and drifted. Faramir looked down in wonder as the babe was laid upon Eowyn's breast.

His child was healthy. He had lost his father, his brother, but here now was his son, and he vowed to be a better father than those gone before.

"Eowyn," he said gently. "Wake for a minute, and meet our son."

"No, no, no, my lady, you mustn't sleep yet," the midwife agreed. "The afterbirth is still to come, and the little one must feed."

At this the midwife looked frustratedly at Faramir - for he had told her that Eowyn had chosen not to have the child suckle at a goodwife's breast, but her own, unlike all other noble ladies she had known.

Eowyn regretfully rose from imminent sleep at the sound of the midwife's loud voice, and looked up to where she knew Faramir was. His face swam into focus, his beloved face. His dark hair, his grey eyes, his brown beard - wait… no. She blinked, and Aragorn disappeared. Her mind was wandering. For she loved her husband, truly loved him in every way, and she had not even thought of Aragorn since the moment Faramir had declared his love for her. She was exhausted, and her thoughts were simply running back to the last time she had not been able to leave her bed, when he had called her back from the dark abyss.

"Palen," she whispered. "I want Palen."

For it was Palen who had come to her after Aragorn had healed her, it was Palen who had continued bringing her back to life, feeding her, exercising her arms, her legs, never patronising, always patient. And her sister… Kerin? Keren, of course, she had seen her here in Rohan not two days ago. She had disobeyed the master's orders, and allowed her to walk in the gardens, and there she had met Faramir. She had those sisters to thank for everything.

Faramir smiled at her, not hearing what she was saying, and moved her hand to place it upon her baby's head. She looked down in surprise, for she had not felt him be placed upon her.

"Boy," she whispered.

"A strong boy, my lady." The midwife smiled down at her. "And big - it is no wonder you found it a struggle. Now, put his mouth to your breast and nature will do Her work."

Eowyn took a deep breath and felt her head clear a little. She was feeling a little foolish at having put herself in such a vulnerable state because of the long journey, but everything was well. She was exhausted, but her baby was healthy. He had a little wrinkled forehead, and was an angry shade of red. His eyes were screwed tight shut against the new sensation of light, and he had a small tuft of dark hair on his head. She looked up at Faramir with love, and sighed contentedly. She had done it.

Keren leant back from the table, a hand pressed to her stomach, and let out a sigh.

"I'm not sure I've ever felt so full," she said to Legolas, who was looking at her with amusement.

"Is this my future? Watching you eat?" For he had long ago finished his share, not being a great lover of meat, and finding the Rohan style of food unappetisingly unsubtle, whereas Keren had had seconds. The hobbits would have been proud. "Do you need some fresh air?"

"A turn outside would be nice," she conceded, for they were seated close to the fire, and it was a summer evening.

They went to the terrace and looked out over the plain, the tall mountains enclosing the valley, the sun setting over the peaks of the western range.

"It is beautiful here," Keren thought out loud. "I felt so out of sorts, coming here before, I didn't appreciate the beauty. I just felt nervous of going beyond those mountains."

"And now?" Legolas asked. "When we journey north together again soon?"

"Oh, I'll still be nervous, but of your father this time, not of what I might find."

Legolas smiled, for both of them knew he was also nervous of Thranduil.

"At least it will only be us on the road."

His little finger hooked around hers, and he turned to kiss her, but they were interrupted by running footsteps coming from the hall. Keren looked behind her and froze. It was Faramir, his hair damp with sweat and his face wet with tears.

"Keren, it's Eowyn," he said quickly. "I need you, please, she is - she is… I cannot lose her, I can't. The midwife said to find a healer, and I knew not where to find one here, but I knew you were a guest, and I'm - I'm sorry. You are the finest healer I know." He was breathless in his haste and panic.

"You must go, love," Legolas's quiet voice said behind her, for she was still rooted to the spot trying to take in what Faramir was saying. She turned quickly to look at her beloved elf, for she was fearful he would not have liked Faramir running to her in such a way, knowing all that had passed between them - for she had told him everything, even about the night on the balcony - but he was calm. "Go and save the White Lady if you can, for it is well within your power to try, and it may not yet be too late."

Keren gave herself a mental shake, turned back and ran towards Faramir, and together they walked hastily through the hall, through the guests who by now were beginning to feel the effects of the mead and ale.

"Tell me all that has happened up until now," she commanded him as they reached the quiet hallway leading to the private chambers, their feet hurrying across the stone.

"She was exhausted before the birth even began, and complained of a fever, of pains all over her body," Faramir replied over his shoulder as he led the way. "The labour was short but difficult, for he was large and she had not the strength to push. But something in her seemed to change, and she found strength from somewhere, and when he was born all was well. He is still well. The afterbirth came as it should, not too long after, and he has been cut from it. But she will not stop bleeding, and now she will not wake, though she lives still."

They entered the small bed-chamber as he finished speaking, and Keren was faced with the sight of the Lady, all in white, her fair hair darkened with sweat, and her face so pale she seemed as one dead already. She lay still, her breast rising and falling shallowly, slowly, whilst a sheet of bright, fresh blood covered the lower half of the bed. Keren switched off her feelings, and sprung into action.

"What has been done so far to try to staunch the bleeding?" She turned to the midwife.

"I have rubbed her belly to encourage the womb to shrink, as we always do, but to no avail. I am sure there is nothing more to be done, I have seen this many times."

"No, we are not giving up on her," Keren said vehemently. "Not yet. She would want us to fight. Keep doing it."

"You know her, then?" The older woman looked at Keren strangely.

"I do," Keren said, though she was not returning the woman's gaze, and had already started walking to the bedside, past the bucket with the bloody mass of the afterbirth still in it, past the baby, asleep already, wrapped in tight sheets within a simple crib. She did not want to look at the child, not yet, not until his mother was saved. For she was going to save her, she had to.

She laid a hand on the lady's forehead, then in front of the lips to feel the breath.

"There is no longer a fever, that is a good sign. There may never have been one, she may have just been anxious and tired beyond her means." Faramir sprang forward at that news, but Keren held him back.

"Faramir," she said, and she looked up into his eyes. "I will do all I can, but she is very weak and the blood loss seems vast. There are some herbs I can administer, but they will be nothing that the good woman here does not know about already, I am sure."

The midwife nodded, proud.

"I have already tried to get her to drink," the woman said, "but she is too far gone for that now."

"I can stitch up the tear here, should all the bleeding be coming from there," Keren went on, "but if she is bleeding internally that will prove fatal."

"Is there a way you can find out?" Faramir asked desperately.

Keren turned to the midwife again.

"Keep up the massage, we try that for a few minutes more. She is still alive, and she is a fighter. She rode in disguise to battle, and slew a great evil, though she believed it would cost her her life. Only the power of the new king - "

And then Keren let out a cry at her own stupidity.

"The King, Faramir, the King! He is here! It is his healing hands that she needs, for he uses Elvish spells I am sure of it. You did not witness it, for it was you he was healing, but he is who she needs now. Find him. Run!"

"I did not even think of him," Faramir exclaimed as he swiftly turned from his wife's side, furious with himself as he left the room. Why had he run to Keren?

"Please, keep trying," she ordered the midwife. "Are these your tools?" She gestured to the bag at the side of the bed.

"Aye, all you will need for stitches are in there, if that is what you think will help," the woman replied. "But why are you sending for King Eomer, and who are you to command him?"

"It is not your King, but mine that I call," replied Keren. "And I do not command him, for I am afraid of him as much as I love him, but he will come for this lady, I know it."

Still, it seemed a painfully long time before Aragorn came to the little room. When he appeared with Eomer, tall and stern in the doorway, his face drawn with concern, Keren bowed her head before him, for again she saw the green stone shine bright at his breast. She knew then that the light of the West was within him, and he had come here prepared with the power and strength he needed to heal Eowyn. Keren's healing skills lay in lore and research, but his came from far, far away. Together they could save her, she was sure of it.

She had already prepared what she knew he would need - two steaming bowls of water beside the bed, and she had scoured the cupboards for healing herbs of any kind - for the Rohirrrim held kingsfoil in even lower esteem than Gondorians. She prayed that the King's strength would be enough.

The midwife stood aside as Eomer ran to his sister's side, distraught, and Faramir took up his son in his arms, staying close to his wife, who was lying as one dead. Keren fumbled for her crystal in its pouch. She knew not what she thought it would achieve, as it had never shown any inclination for helping her in her work before, but somehow, after all she had learnt of it, it seemed a useful sort of thing to do. Perhaps the King's stone had come from Valinor as hers had, it had that air about it, and perhaps there was strength in numbers. It may even magnify his stone's power. It may even have done so the first time they met, but she did not want to give her little crystal ideas above it's station.

The King stared as she revealed it, and held it in her palm as a talisman. A quick smile flitted across her lips. There would be time for explanations later.

"What do you need me to do?" she asked him.

"Has the bleeding stopped?" was the question she got in return.

"It has slowed slightly, but, no, it has not stopped," Keren answered. "We will lose her very soon if it continues."

"You learnt Elvish in your time away?"

"I'm told I'm near fluent in Sindarin, but Quenya, none."

He nodded.

"It may still be enough. There is an ancient song of an elvish mode, used to staunch the flow of blood. I will begin, you join in when you have picked it up. Believe the words, hold the tune. If that succeeds I may yet be able to call her back."

And immediately he placed his hands upon Eowyn and began a chant, low and soft, a song that had echoed down through the ages, and yet was now forgotten by all, except the High Elves and one ranger of the North who had been fortunate enough to have been raised by them.

Keren sat, spellbound, for this she had not witnessed before. Who was this man? More than just a king, surely.

After he had repeated it four times, she began to murmur the words, checking she had them right, and then her voice joined with his in song. Tenderly they sang, the King and the healer, whilst Faramir and Eomer looked on in wonder and fear. Keren felt nothing as she sang the wandering melody, but if she could pour her desire for Eowyn to survive into the words, she tried to. She did not know how long it went on for, but Aragorn eventually signalled for her to stop. He took a deep, shaking breath.

"Now I suppose we must wait to see if the bleeding has stopped," Keren said, whilst the King recovered.

She removed the cloth from between Eowyn's legs and refreshed it. There was a tense wait of a few minutes, but when she removed the new cloth there were only a few tiny spots of blood.

"I don't believe it," the midwife whispered.

"Believe," Keren said firmly, though Eowyn remained still and deathly white.

"I will close the tear," she said quietly, and Aragorn moved to be beside Faramir, where he could place his hands upon Eowyn's head, whilst Keren set to work on the stitches. Now began the next stage, the part that Keren had seen before. The King was going to call upon Eowyn's spirit to stay within her body again, to not wander to those halls that no mortals return from. But perhaps, Keren thought, as she looked at the Lady's ghostly face, she was already on her way there.

The red light of the new morning sun fell upon Keren's face, and she half-awoke. She sighed and turned over, laying her head on Legolas's shoulder, who had returned shortly before from Aragorn's side. He smiled down fondly at her as she immediately fell into sleep again. His betrothed was recovering from lack of sleep, for she had spent all night and the next day - the day they were to have left for the Greenwood - with the Lady Eowyn, not moving until she had opened her eyes, taken some water and a little food. Well into the second night she had finally found her way to his side, with the happy news that the Lady was saved, though much weakened, and the child was well. But there was a thoughtfulness about her that had not been there before. She had learned something that had made her sad, despite the success of her work, and the King's elvish healing.

When Keren awoke properly she lay still and quiet, wanting to think about the events of the past few days, and what the end result would be. She ran through the moment she had realised she would be the one that would have to break the bad news, and Faramir's pale face swam into view.

After Eowyn had awoken, and Keren and the midwife had checked her, she had taken Faramir aside, leaving his wife sleeping. All thoughts of how strange it was that they were together again were put to one side. She was a healer, and his wife was her patient. They had gone outside, to a small wooden balcony at the back of the hall, and she had gently touched his arm, for he would need comfort. So little a gesture it had seemed, and yet with it she saw him crumble, for he knew it meant ill news of a kind. Keren decided to just say it.

"There can be no more children."

He looked at her, bereft. "You are sure?"

"She must not be made to endure childbirth again. She may be damaged inside, and certainly she shall be weakened. Another labour, even a miscarriage, I am sure, would kill her. I am sorry."

He sighed, shook his head. "She will not believe it, she will fight it. She will defy you."

"Then you must tell her it is not worth the risk. And you must not… If she becomes pregnant again…"

She tailed off, and watched as Faramir truly realised what the diagnosis meant.

"We can never… I cannot lie with her."

"I'm sorry," Keren said again, all she could say.

And then both longed for the conversation to be over, and both turned away at the same time, Keren to find Legolas, Faramir to lean, head in hands, over the balcony. It was too much, too much for the two of them to bear, to have their first time alone together since all had changed be filled with such unhappiness. For all they had ever wished for each other was joy.

After two more days, when Keren was sure Eowyn would survive, she and Legolas made ready to leave. They wished Eomer and his new bride a happy future, and the King thanked Keren profusely for her quick thinking and assistance in saving his sister's life, and gifted her with a small bronze pin in the shape of a horse's head, it's mane flowing behind.

"For Eowyn means 'joy in horses', and I know that is something you lack, so take this gift to make up for it." Did he wink at Legolas over her shoulder? And did she hear her betrothed chuckling behind her? She had a long time with him on horseback ahead of her, again, and she vowed to be sullenly silent for most of it (until it bored her) if the elf had indeed told everyone of her natural disinclination to life in the saddle. But she was cheered by the gift, and by what Eomer said next.

"I sent word to Master Meriadoc Holbytla, telling him of my betrothal, and of yours, for I know you were both close to him and his fellows. He was most delighted to hear the news, and reports that Pippin danced a jig when he regaled it. And he gave us news of his own, for he is newly married himself, to a Miss Estella Bolger as was, and his friend Samwise is married also, and has a daughter."

"That's wonderful! But was there any word of Frodo?" Keren wondered, always having found the quietest of the hobbits somehow more distant. 'Faded' was the word she would always use to describe him, though they never met again.

"None," Eomer replied, "other than that he was also overjoyed to hear the news."

"So he is still alive," she said, pleased. She wondered if after all his trials he would succumb to illness or grief. "Well, please tell them I was overjoyed to hear of them, and I will try to write myself now that I know there can be messengers found that are willing to undertake the journey."

Lothíriel politely, briefly, wished them well, unable to tear her eyes away from her handsome new husband for very long. Keren sympathised. Sometimes she still caught herself staring at Legolas, who would always eventually catch her eye and make her heart soar, for he was hers, he was actually hers. Lust married with love was proving to be highly impractical for getting on with her day.

Legolas parted from Aragorn and Gimli with little fear of not seeing them again, for all were working on the rebuilding of Minas Tirith, and would be for some years. Keren found a quiet moment to wish Eowyn and her son, whom they had named Elboron, well, and the Lady whispered a quiet but heartfelt thank you from her bed, and to both of their surprise, cried as she did so.

"We, all three of us, owe you so much," she went on. "I know there will be no more children, but we have Elboron, and he is strong. We are both alive thanks to you. Once you are wed you and Legolas must come and stay with us in Ithilien, Palen and her family too."

"We shall, my lady," Keren replied, although immediately thought what an odd, awkward, gathering it would be. She wondered if Eowyn knew, or had ever guessed, the nature of her past with Faramir. She hoped not. She had felt a guilt over avoiding him again, not wishing to say goodbye. Now that the peril of Eowyn's labour was over, it was still all too strange being by his side.

Finally Keren parted from Beregond.

"Off again," he said jokingly. "I wonder which Keren will return? For the old Keren I knew has changed. For the better," he added quickly.

"Goodbye, dear Beregond, until we meet again."

She clambered up onto Arod, Legolas pulling her up. He was only using a saddle and bridle for her benefit. A fairly large crowd had come to see them off, for word had spread of the strange pairing of the Mirkwood elf and the Gondorian healer, both of whom had been in Edoras before, but one of whom had not attracted any attention there until now. Keren gave a nervous wave to the people, then immediately berated herself, embarrassed.

"Do not be afraid now you are not just a face in the crowd," Legolas's voice said behind her. "There are some within it who will judge you, be envious of you, but there are many that will admire you. It is not your fate to hide anymore. You fell in with the wrong people if you wish for a life of anonymity."

She could hear the laughter in his voice, but she took the words to heart. Yes, her life was different now, and she could not yet get used to being someone who perhaps was known about before she was seen. He must have felt her tense, for a gentle hand stroked her thigh.

"I jest, my love, and there is no-one I would rather hide away from the world with than you. If ever you tire of fame and renown, we will have Ithilien, and peace, and privacy."

And with those words he lightly kicked Arod to walk, and they began the slow descent through the town, past yet more crowds of people, come to stare at the elven prince and his human bride. She practised smiling and waving, and after a while it became genuine, as young girls threw flowers at Arod' feet, still in a celebratory mood from the wedding.

Once they had cleared the town and the burial mounds and crossed the stream, Legolas turned Arod around and looked back. There were all their friends, tiny and distant on the terrace, wishing them joy as they raised their hands in farewell. Aragorn must have held aloft his green stone, for its light shone down the valley towards them, in recognition of the great deed Keren had helped bring to fruition, in saving Eowyn's life. She realised she had never told him about her crystal. They waved farewell, then Legolas turned Arod's head north and away.

They set their course north-east this time, rather than towards Isengard. Arod had plodded along patiently on the journey from Minas Tirith, and Legolas knew once they entered the Greenwood he would be walking once more, so he gave the horse free rein to gallop over the flat plains of Rohan, and at night horse and woman slept, whilst elf kept watch. Three days of travelling thus brought them to the Entwade, the ancient ford that traversed the river Keren had once been forbidden to cross. Legolas explained they now had about the same amount of time on horseback again before they reached the river Limlight, the border of Rohan and the lands of Galadriel.

She groaned as she half-fell from the saddle once they were in the East Emnet. The backs of her thighs felt red-raw, and her calves aching.

"I really thought by now I'd be getting better at this," she said as she stretched out her tired limbs. "Three more days of it? Poor Arod, it's not your fault." She rubbed his nose. "At least we are friends now."

"You have come on greatly," Legolas said. "And remember you even had your own horse for a time, and you survived."

"Leofric." She smiled in memory at the poor horse that had been lumbered with such a poor rider. "I wonder how he is getting on in the Golden Wood. There is no chance we can stop there?" It was not the first time she had asked this, and it was out of a desire to see Haldir rather than her old horse.

"Though we go through their lands Caras Galadhon is too far out of our way," Legolas said again, patiently, "and I worry we will wish to linger there. My father will already be growing impatient if he knows we set out late from Edoras."

Keren tutted, wondering just how much they had to obey this King that she had not even met yet. To the letter, she imagined.

Arod munched at the tussocks of grass, whilst Legolas gave Keren some of the dried meat they had brought with them from Edoras. She did not sit but paced around as she ate, wanting to bring feeling back into the base of her spine. The sun was setting, burning the grass a deep red, and there was no wind. Everywhere she looked there were no trees, no people, no sound. She wondered if it had always been so.

"Do you notice the world changing?" she asked her betrothed. "Or is it one of those things that happens so slowly you cannot see it?"

"The trees show me how much time has passed," Legolas answered. "You cannot miss an acorn turning into the fattest tree for miles around, though it takes a thousand years or so. But places like this - we could be in any age."

He turned to see Keren looking at him with a bewildered smile.

"I am still strange to you sometimes, aren't I?" he said.

"Very strange, my ancient love." She laughed and gingerly sat down by his side, wincing. "Ouch!"

"One thing you will enjoy in my father's kingdom."

"Oh?"

"No getting around on horseback."

But her mind was still on the longevity of the elves.

"How old is your father? How old was he when you were born?" she asked inquisitively.

"Well, he was, along with my grandfather, one of the grey-elves of the First Age who chose not to travel West. If you ask him he will tell you tales of those he once knew in Doriath, of the King and his Maia Queen, of their daughter the Nightingale herself if you wish. He dwelt for a time in the north-west, after the fall of Beleriand, then established our realm in the Greenwood early in the Second Age. I was born over a thousand years after that, and I spent half of my life steadily retreating north through the forest with the rest of our people, until we could go no further. And that is where my father still rules."

"The First… Age… in Beleriand…" It had been one thing to establish that Legolas was thousands of years old, but at least he had been born in the same age as her, on land that still existed. His father was truly ancient.

"And he had no other children, before or after you?" she wondered.

"Elves cannot make children unless we will them into being," he explained. "It takes more than just sexual union. It is an act of will - I suppose you would call it magic. During troubled times - wars or great journeys - we simply un-wish a child, and none are born. And my father has lived through many troubled times."

"What is it, my love?" Keren asked, for Legolas had closed himself off from her as he spoke, his face blank. She knew him well enough now to know his mind had gone to a dark place.

"The Lady Eowyn, she will recover?" he said out of nowhere.

"To an extent." Keren wondered where their talk as going, but did not question him. "But they can have no more children, the labour damaged her too greatly."

"That is sad, if they wished for more."

"Very sad." She did not want to talk about the look on Faramir's face as she had broken the news.

"And she a human maid birthing a human child," said Legolas.

"Things can go wrong all the time. Greenleaf, why are you…?" She could see something behind his eyes that he was aching to say.

"Keren." He turned to face her, needing to give her all his attention, his energy. "When we lie together - which of course we will, countless times - there will be no chance of us making a child. I said before, Elves cannot make children unless we will them into being, and I will not risk your life in doing so."

"What do you mean?"

"Once a child is formed, the mother carries it for a year or more before it is born. Keren, there is no record of a mortal woman ever bearing, or even conceiving, a half-elven child, no record of a couple such as us. Always it has been a mortal man and an elf-maid. I do not know if you would conceive, and if you did I do not know what risks it would carry, whether you would be pregnant for longer than you could endure, whether it would kill you to attempt - "

He paused, and Keren felt everything tilt sideways within her as she watched him fighting tears for the first time. But he gathered himself and went on.

"Seeing the Lady Eowyn brought so close to death, forever broken inside, just from a normal, human, labour… I will not risk your life in that way, ever. We just cannot know if it is safe. If the time comes when you do want to be a mother, I could not risk willing a child into being, no matter how much you wish it. I am sorry, my love, but if ever you want a child… I cannot see a way for it to be mine."

Keren was stunned. Everything he was saying came from a desire to protect her, she knew, so she could not bring herself to be angry. She was more in a state of disbelief that they were even having this conversation. She let out a little laugh - she could not help it - and hoped he would be able to tell it was from shock.

"You have given this a lot of thought," she said eventually, all the while enduring him staring at her for some reaction. "But have you ever asked yourself what you want?"

"I want nothing but your safety and happiness," he replied. "I am not paternal." He fought to keep his tone light, and he prayed to the Valar she would not see through it to the truth - that his bonding with a mortal had cost him the chance to be a father. She must never know how he felt.

She sighed. "This is what you were thinking of, that time at Henneth Annun. This is what you did not want to speak of so soon."

"Yes." His voice was low and soft, and full of pain. "I know you said you did not feel ready for children, but a time may come in the future…"

"Greenleaf. None like us have gone before. We are carving out our own rules, rules new to the world. We must simply deal with things as they come. If I change my mind, then we will start worrying about it, not before. Why worry when we are so happy in our love for each other - a love that is unique in the world? We are blessed!"

She knelt in front of him, took his face in her hands.

"All is well."

"How you have changed," he whispered, taking her hand. "You are fearless. You give me courage and hope."

"Then I am simply repaying you for the times you gave the same to me. But I wouldn't go so far as to say I'm fearless," she said, amused. "I am frightened of many things. But I know how little time we have together. Let us not spend that in fear, not for our future."

Then her brain caught up with something he had said a while back, and she sat up straight and pointed a finger at nothing.

"Wait," she said. "Are you telling me elves are actually able to just think a child into being? That if you don't wish for a child, there is no risk? That is a useful skill," she said, thinking of the many mortal men that had bastard children running around Minas Tirith, in all levels of society.

He let a small, reluctant, smile show at her straight talking.

"It's nice too though," Keren said, returning the smile. "No elf can bring a child into the world that they do not truly long for. Your father and mother willed you into being. They must have really wanted you."

"And yet there is still a part of me, after all I have done, that feels I am a disappointment," he admitted.

"I think it is simply your choice of bride that is the disappointment," she replied with a wry look, and settled down to sleep, her head on his leg. "Goodnight, my love."

"Goodnight." He gently stroked her hair, listening to her breathing grow heavy and slow.

What will I do when you are gone? he thought. He looked around at the long grass, now blowing in a gentle breeze, and reflected on how much smaller, how much more complete, his world seemed, now Keren was in it.

Author note: So what did you think? Please review and let me know how the start of Book 3 was x