Author note: Well. What can I say. The world has changed since we last met, friends. I've had lots of free time but somehow haven't felt like writing much, not until a couple of days ago. I don't know about you but here in the UK we're in strict lockdown. I've lost all of my work (I'm freelance) for the whole of the rest of 2020. Completely unemployed with no income predicted for the rest of the year. Not quite sure what I'm going to do, but I'll figure something out :) If Keren's taught me anything in these four years of creating/writing/loving her, it's to have courage and hope, and faith in your own strength, even if it feels hidden. I've called on her many times, but then I guess she's technically a part of me!

I'm also very lucky to have kind and generous family and friends, and I pray everyone else in hardship has someone they can turn to. If anyone wants to reach out on the messaging service here, I'm definitely up for a quarantine getting-to-know some of you! Spending so much time in my own company has made me realise a) I actually really don't mind missing social occasions, as long as I can still see and hear my friends and family through technology and b) the few friends I have are gold, pure solid gold. I'm happy to reach out across the world and make some more!

We've had three ambulances called to our little street this week, my house included (I'm ok, had breathing problems but am on the mend). But people are dying. Shit got real. It's scary. And it sucks. It individually and collectively sucks. Is anyone else feeling that collective grief?

I really hope all of you are safe and well with your loved ones. If there happen to be any of you who are still carrying out vital jobs, eg. healthworkers, foodstore and supermarket workers, teachers, everyone else doing work that keeps the world spinning, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Thank you for your reviews, some of them made me teary (in a nice way, and not that it takes much at the moment, admittedly). I've already taken up too much space in this A/N so won't reply individually this time, but know that they are so, so appreciated. And hi to all new followers (a lot of you!). If you're reading the above in like a couple of years time it will make no sense. Although I'm sure we'll all remember this the rest of our lives. Unfortunately this chapter is quite heavy (bad timing), but it's one of the most important ones on Keren's journey. I hope you'll be as proud of her as I am!

Lots of love xxx

Chapter four - The challenge

Legolas was anxiously awaiting the return of his betrothed within her rooms, taking deep breaths out on the balcony overlooking the river tumbling below. It had been an hour or more since Keren had left. He had asked all others to leave him with his thoughts, for he knew when she returned they would need to talk, but now he was regretting it, for his thoughts were dark.

The door to the chambers slammed open, and fast, angry footsteps echoed out to him. He turned, puzzled.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

It was Keren, but he already knew that, for he would know her tread anywhere. She had spoken as soon as she saw him, though she was still in the middle of the room. Legolas was dumbstruck. She was not shouting, for she seemed too angry to shout, her voice coming out high and strained, her whole body taut, as if she was being held together, held up, by the thinnest of ropes.

"Well?" she went on. "Why didn't you ever tell me what bonding with me really meant?"

Hot, angry tears were spilling out of her eyes.

His heart sank.

"I - I tried, but - " was all he managed to get out before she swept closer to him, rage and hurt and confusion in her eyes.

"Forever? Forever, Legolas?!" Her strength seemed to leave her, for she was still weary from the poison that had not long left her veins. He knelt before her, half catching her as she sank on to the bed. "Once I am dead you are alone, in life, in death, forever. If I was one of your people you could find me." She sobbed.

Do you hate us so much, father? he thought.

There was nothing to do but face it now.

"I said it once, long ago, in the caves of Helm's Deep, do you not remember?" he said quietly. "The tale of Beren and Lúthien. I said, 'mortal souls are not bound to the earth'."

"I remember the tale, I do not remember those specific words," she said shortly, and frowned when he looked hurt. "What, are you telling me you remember every word I've ever said to you?"

He sighed.

"My love, can you ever forgive me? Know that I did not lie, I just did not think you needed to know, why tell you something that would never affect you? You would already be long dead, I - "

"Never affect me?" she looked up at him, bewildered. "The fate of your soul affects me Legolas, for I love you!"

"But you would have no knowledge of it. And it - it may be that it is all nonsense, that when we are dead, we are dead."

"You don't really believe that. I know you don't. You have seen the faces of the gods, as have I, heard their voices, in the stars, in the trees, in the very fabric of the world. You know the tales of the Elder Days, when spirits walked the earth. Before my time in Lórien I would have said the same, but now I know, I know, that there is more beyond what we can see. And to think of you, even in death, never being able to find me…"

She broke into silent sobs, unable to speak, having to let the tears roll.

"Did you mean it?" Keren heard him whisper.

"Mean what?" She hated how wavering her voice was.

"You said, in the midst of your anger and pain, that you love me. Still? Knowing this, knowing that I have kept it from you?"

She sighed, a long and heavy breath, pulled from the deepest corners of her heart. It was painful.

"Of course I love you. I cannot stop loving you. For that is what it is to be bonded to someone, as you well know. It is an unbreakable chain - a shining, wondrous chain - but a chain nonetheless."

"Oh, Keren, I am sorry." Legolas's voice broke with grief.

"No. No," she said fiercely. "Never apologise for loving me. Apologise for hiding the truth from me, yes, for all eternity if you wish, but never, never regret loving me. For I do not regret… I do not regret…"

She was sobbing, but she knew not what for. She was angry, and bitterly sad, but she could not tell if it was at Legolas or for Legolas. A little of both, maybe. What had they done, either of them, to be found in this place? There was no one who could guide them. Even Arwen, Keren thought, having forsaken her immortality, would not know Legolas's pain. The ancient bloodline of Eärendil was not in his veins as it was hers, he was not one of the Peredhil - the few part-elven that had the gift of choosing between immortality or freedom.

And Keren could not choose his fate, not once the knot had been formed on that fateful day under the willow tree. Both were hurtling towards a future that would be golden for but a moment, then dark - dark as the bitterest winter.

"No matter what happens, I cleave myself to you, as the rings show, as my heart tells me to," Keren found herself saying. "Nothing in this world shall part us, save death, and I pray to the Valar they hold that at bay for as long as my body can endure. We plighted our troth, and no matter what happens" - she said again - "I will love none but you."

"What has my father said to you?" Legolas asked. "Why all this 'no matter what happens'?"

Keren felt unutterably tired. There were things, she realised now, that she had kept from Legolas for the same reason as he - because she did not feel he needed to know. Elbereth, the mirror, her true name…

"I don't want to talk about it. I need to rest."

Weak, she chided herself. On both counts.

"There is a feast tomorrow, in our honour," she went on. "And we both need to be there."

He gently brushed the hair from her face.

"Very well, my love. Sleep. I won't be far away."

She felt herself drifting as she held his hand, but something felt important.

"Legolas," she whispered. "Do you trust me?" She kept her eyes closed, afraid to see his face betray him.

"Of course." His voice was gentle, but a little concerned.

"Even though I will not - cannot - tell you what your father said?"

"If either you or he have reasons why I cannot yet know, then I must honour them."

She tried to smile. But he spoke again.

"But… it can't be that bad, can it?"

Legolas watched as she lay still, looking for some sign from her to appease his worries. He trusted her with his life, but what was she hiding? His fears were not appeased when she answered.

"It's worse than bad. And I need to try to sleep my fear away, for I cannot face him afraid."

Keren did sleep, but her dreams were full of darkness and terror. There was a cruelty in her slumber, as sometimes she would be back in happy times with those she loved, but all would go wrong - the hobbits would scorn her, Palen would spit at her, she would watch as Haldir was hewn down by an unseen foe though they were stood in the peace of Lórien, she would hear the death rattle of her mother but be unable to reach her. And Legolas… that was the worst dream. Beneath the willow tree she saw him, but as a wraith - a cold, grey, ghost - who could not speak, nor touch her, nor see her, for he had no mouth, and no hands, and his beautiful grey eyes had been put out. She ran from him in terror, and she felt strong, warm arms go around her, comforting, protecting. She looked up into the eyes of Faramir, also grey, but hard and cold. Hatred was on his face. He pushed her to the floor, and suddenly he was far above her, upon a cliff, whilst she scrambled in the shallows upon a shore she did not know. She needed to get somewhere, to someone, but where, and who? She could not stand, and the tide was coming in, and so she gave up and lay in the cold water, until the waves inevitably carried her away, Faramir watching until the end, until she went under.

"Noooooo!" She screamed as she woke. "Legolas! Legolas!"

She was panting, sweating, her eyes wide and terrified. Even waking, even seeing her beloved elf run to her in the darkened room, all she could see was his eye-less face, his poor mutilated hands. And Faramir, Faramir wishing her dead. She clamped her eyes shut again, trying to block out the world.

Legolas enveloped her in his arms, cradled her head, held her close.

"Shh, shh, velethril nîn, shh. Lasto nin - avo dhavo am môr, av-'osto. Ceno nin."

He took her face in his hands. "Ceno nin," he said again, for she would not look at his face.

"I - I can't," she whispered. "I'm afraid. I've never been so afraid. Not when my city was burning, not when the spiders… Your face… your face…"

"Tell me," he said gently.

"Too many horrible things," she said. "Just dreams, I know… Just dreams."

She could feel herself coming back to reality, and looked at his eyes - there they were, large, and deep - so much depth - and grey. How she loved those eyes.

"My mind is… running away with me. Making me dream things that I know cannot come to pass."

"I will lie beside you," he said, and did so, cocooning her within his arms, fitting her into the curve of his body. "Sleep. I am here, and I will not leave. There is nothing to fear here."

Keren didn't answer, for she was still exhausted, and she couldn't bring herself to tell him he was wrong. Had he guessed, would his mind ever begin to conceive what his father wished upon her? She must do it. She had to do it. Even if it meant death.

But why should it mean death? she thought, as she lay in the dark. I can hunt, I can travel, I can… I can fight. And anyway, I can travel east, through elven lands, until I reach the edge of the forest, then turn south. And then…

She would need to look at a map somehow. Was she mad to even be considering it? Possibly. But it meant a marriage, a life, with Legolas. She had to try.

She remembered a conversation about her mother, with Haldir on the shores of New Hithoel, a year ago or more.

There are many things I am still much afraid of. I would not do as she had done and journey alone, not in the wild, she had said.

And Haldir had replied, in his practical way.

Well, one who is not accustomed to defending themselves, and foraging, and rough terrain, should never choose to do that, for it is foolhardy and reckless. So there I would say you are wise, not cowardly.

Haldir would call her wise for saying no, then. But even if it meant giving up Legolas? Surely he would tell her to fight for him?

Oh, who am I trying to fool?

She was entirely unequipped to succeed in such a task. She was not Beren, already a hero before he had even set out to win Lúthien's hand. She was not Lúthien either, escaping from her father's prison to rescue her lover from a dungeon in a far land.

Oh, Lúthien. Keren called out to the long-dead woman. Guide me now, for you travelled alone and in peril to find your love. Elbereth, protect me as you did her. For I cannot say no, though I have no powers or spells to aid me. I cannot give him up.

And then another thought - a quiet, calm thought - came into her head.

If you do this, you must do it for you, not for him, not for anyone else. The elven king is testing you - just you, not Legolas. He will not expect you to say yes. You must bluff your way into getting all the skills you need, you must barter with him. Take him by surprise and he will meet your requests.

The voice in her head almost sounded reasonable, but still she could not get back to sleep. However confident her mind was, her heart was still afraid. She could not do it, she just couldn't, it would mean death. But to not do it… She felt Legolas's warm, protective presence, heard his slow, reassuring breaths. Could she really give this up, for fear? She felt her hand reach for the crystal, for the first time in many moons, but the pouch was still with her travelling clothes, folded up on the other side of the chamber. Would guidance even come now, she wondered, as she had neglected the stone for so long?

The stars made their slow course across the sky as she lay in pensive silence the rest of the night, and she watched from behind closed eyes as the room turned grey, then red, then golden. It was tomorrow already, and come the evening she would have to announce her choice.

Keren studied herself in a clear mirror. She had had a bath, a bath - she sighed with happiness at the memory - and washed her hair. She had eaten and not felt nauseous, which was a huge improvement. An elf had come to help her dress and style her hair, and the healers had said they were now confident she could look after herself. The words haunted her, despite all the lovely distractions of the day. And their diagnosis came at a price - now she was deemed well Thranduil had forbidden Keren and Legolas from spending any time alone together, as he had first threatened. When she saw him tonight at the feast she might not see him alone ever again. However long it took her to train, whether for her long journey or her escape, either way… she had to leave. And either way she would be leaving without him, never knowing if she would see him again.

Stop. Stop these thoughts, they will not help.

She was tired from her sleepless night, and could feel a tension in her body that had briefly faded during the bath, then immediately reappeared. She was no closer to making a decision. She had said she would die for Legolas, if it meant his life could be spared. But his life was not in danger. Or was it? She knew if he had even the slightest idea of what she had been instructed to do, if he knew she was even considering it, he would forbid it - he would try to come up with a way to defy his father. But Thranduil was unhinged, clearly, and she worried what he might do to either of them should she refuse the terms but still try to wed. Perhaps she could publicly say no, then secretly tell Thranduil she agreed, and sneak off without Legolas being able to stop her?

Mad. You're going mad, she thought, and tutted at her reflection.

The feast was but minutes away. She cast one final look over her appearance. She looked well, all things considered, and perhaps that would work in her favour, for Thranduil's people would see how quickly she had recovered from the poisoned wound and long travels to get here. If she could get them on her side, she might have a chance, she could make friends who could help her prepare.

She took three steps towards the door, then swiftly turned, running across to the pile of clothes that hid the crystal. She was not leaving it here alone, unprotected. And perhaps, just perhaps, it might help her say the right thing. She felt no shame asking for its wisdom now.

A cave full of elves was, on the surface, no different to a forest full of elves. All tall, all beautiful - but Legolas had been right: look closer, spend more time, and there was something different about his people. In a strange way they seemed younger than the wise and noble people of Caras Galadhon. They were quicker to laugh, but also to anger, though there was still no lack of talent and skill, with voices and instruments raised in song every few minutes. So a merrier group, but also a more volatile one.

Keren sat on the high table, Thranduil to her left and Legolas, as close as he could get to her without attracting his father's notice, to her right. They were on the fifth course of food and Keren's stomach, so used to tiny meals on the road, was beginning to feel stretched to the point of sickness. The nerves did not help. She knew he was prolonging the announcement to add to her discomfort. Legolas had guessed something was wrong, and knew it was unlikely that he could help, but his gentle hand on hers - something his father could not reasonably forbid - was a gift.

The elves - about five hundred of them - filled the cavernous feasting hall, where roots of trees had been carved into smooth, simple designs, and interspersed with stone. Just how desperate had Thranduil's people been all those years ago, to have to hide underground, something she knew all elves of Lórien would dread? And how long did it take for them to grow used to it, to like it? Legolas did not enjoy underground spaces, but caves, caverns, he could handle. She looked at him fondly. She loved that he had some fears, for often he seemed too perfect, unattainable, inhuman. She loved him so much.

Just as she thought that, she saw Thranduil rise next to her, as if he had known, and she knew the moment had come. She squeezed Legolas's hand tightly, and tried to smile at all the elves who were suddenly looking at her, knowing something was about to happen. She tried not to catch eyes with any of them, lest she see disdain, or worse, pity. Surely they must be expecting Thranduil to challenge her, they must all know the customs. But any faces she did hover over merely looked curious, and studied her in a polite, interested way. Legolas was a popular prince, she knew, and they were all most intrigued to see the human girl who had finally ended his days alone.

"Friends and honoured guests." Thranduil did not raise his voice overmuch, trusting the echo in the room, but also wanting people to have to work, fully pay attention, to hear him. "Tonight it is my great joy to formally welcome my son back from his quest to find his beloved. As you can see…" he gestured across to Keren, "he succeeded."

There was polite laughter all around the room. She smiled tightly.

"Many of you know I was displeased when he brought news to me of this young woman. No sooner had he returned safely from his travails in the war outside our borders, bringing a dwarf with him no less, but he wished to leave again, to find - he said - his bonded mate. And you may be surprised to hear that I have deemed, having spoken to both of them, that she is indeed that."

A low murmur went around the room, suppressed but excited. Keren was sure she even witnessed money changing hands.

"Unusual. Perhaps even unprecedented." Thranduil raised a hand to still the mumbling voices of his stunned people. "And yet, it is so. They have made the exchange of rings and promises to one another. And heretofore they have followed our marriage customs to the letter, which shows great respect for me, and indeed all of you." He raised a glass to Keren and Legolas, eyes shining. Keren couldn't help but see the knowing looks passed between a few of the elves sat near the front, close to the wine barrel. They knew what following marriage customs meant.

"And it shows they are serious in their love for one another. Although they are not tied together by race, she has been quick to learn our ways, and our tongue, for she has spent time with the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood, and left it with their blessing. She is a skilled healer of the sick in her own land, far to the South. And she is altogether quite…" He looked over at her, as if searching for his next word, though she knew he had it. "Quite a character. She is entirely unexpected, and yet often the best blessings are. At long last, after many years of solitude, my son has found a worthy bride - indeed, now they have bonded, the only bride. So may I present to you all…" He indicated to Keren to stand, and she did so, a little bewildered at just how nice he was being. "Ciraen, daughter of the Golden Wood. A toast to her!"

"Ciraen." The name reverberated around the hall, and it took Keren a moment to associate it with herself as she stood awkwardly before the whole court. Why had he done that? Was her old name not good enough? But then she turned to Legolas, and she saw exactly why he had done it.

He was looking down at her, white-faced. Of course - Legolas did not know. She had berated him for not telling her something, and he had just discovered she had done the same. But there was more than that.

"What - " she went to say.

"Later," he said hastily, and turned to the crowd of faces, taking her hand, smiling, covering up his initial look of… what had it been?

"I spoke of customs." Thranduil continued. "As I said, we are fortunate indeed to witness the love of human maid and elf man, for never before have our people seen such a thing. You all recall the tale of the Nightingale and her mortal lover Beren. Thingol set Beren a seemingly impossible task - to steal a Silmaril from the crown of the Darkest of Lords - before he would allow marriage between the pair. Now you will be pleased to hear I am not forcing my son's beloved to face any Dark Lords, nor commit burglary, though the last time we had a burglar here I did rather well out of it."

More polite laughter. Frodo's uncle, Keren dimly thought. The world seemed oddly small in that moment.

"But traditions must be upheld, and I have laid a task upon her. Tonight here before you all, I will have her answer. Should she accept, she will win the hand of my son, prince of this realm and beloved by you all. Should she deem the challenge too great, she is free to leave, with an escort all the way to her home, and go about her life. But my son will not be in it. A fair, and just, demand. We are a proud people, and what was good enough for Thingol and his daughter is good enough for me and Greenleaf."

There were more quiet mutterings around the hall at this. They had all, like Legolas, thought this a mere formality, that the task would be symbolic only. They looked to their prince - his face was ashen.

Keren's right hand held Legolas's tightly, but her left hand strayed to the pouch at her hip. She took the crystal from its resting place of many months, and, hidden in her hand, held it down by her side. What she hoped to say she knew not, but it brought her some comfort feeling it in her palm once more. She looked anxiously at Legolas. If he did not like her new name he would certainly not like what was about to come. She envisioned having to stop him leaping over her to attack his father.

"Ciraen," Thranduil addressed her, solemnly and with great gravitas. "Your challenge, as you know, is this: to wait a year to the day to wed my son, and in that time to journey from here to Ithilien, where the marriage shall take place. You shall journey alone, with no guide, and no horse. The forest rivers, and the Running, are forbidden to you, as is the Great River, though you would not be able to carry a boat anyway." There was a little smile there, as if he was amused at the idea of her trying. Was he really expecting people to smile with him? "You will have weapons of your choice, though what you choose to do with them once on the road is no concern of mine. If you are not in Ithilien within a year you forfeit your chance to make your vows, though you may yet be living. If you succeed - you win my son's hand and my blessing towards your union."

Silence filled the hall - Keren felt it, a tangible presence. No one had expected this. She waited for the roar of outrage, the cries of 'madness!', 'unjust!', the laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of it. But none came. She was sure the whole room could hear her breathing.

Legolas's hand felt hot in hers. She squeezed it tight, but felt no answering pressure. She looked up at him. His eyes were wide and alert - she had seen that face before. He was ready to fight. How she wished she could speak to him alone.

"What is your answer, Ciraen?" Thranduil called her attention back to him. "Answer clearly. Do you accept?"

The strangeness she had begun to feel at the mention of Bilbo rose to full magnitude. The world felt too small, too strange - she could hear a pounding in her ears. Her heart, she realised, pumping the blood, keeping her standing, keeping her alive. What was happening? Was she dreaming? Would she wake up to find she was in her room in the Houses, Palen gently snoring beside her, no elves, no hobbits, no mad kings, no crystals. Just an ordinary person about to go about her daily business.

What do I say? Panic was starting to grip her. This was all wrong. She was all wrong. This was not her life, this life belonged to someone else. What do I say?

"Well?" Thranduil sounded as if he was the other end of a long tunnel. "What do you say?"

Had she been talking aloud? Legolas was not moving. No one seemed to be moving.

Silence.

"We are all anxious for your answer. What. Do. You. Say?"

Silence.

She took her hand from Legolas's, so that she could move closer to Thranduil, give her answer just to him. She was not about to pander to his theatrics. He would not intimidate her.

Silence. She looked up at the Elvenking with hate and fury, gathering venom in her mouth.

"I accept," she whispered.

Author note: Ngl, I don't know if it's just all the craziness of the pandemic but I started crying as I wrote that last line. It's a moment I've had in my head for four years and she just frickin' SAID IT. Wish her luck x