Author note: On a roll now, been a while since I've written so fast!

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Lovely reviews for the last chapter, which I was very nervous about posting, so thank you for letting me know it was ok! Hello everyone new following!

So - this chapter. Ugh it was tough to write just due to the logistics of a character journeying alone. But there is a total mic drop moment from someone I love to hate that makes the hard work worth it. I LOVED writing that scene.

Chapter six - 'You smell of elf'

The night before Keren left there was another feast. She turned up in her travelling clothes, her hair cut short and with an eyeful of hatred for Thranduil. If he had a reaction to her new appearance he did not let her see it, but Legolas's pride was written all over his face as she took her place by his side. She did not speak throughout proceedings, even when Thranduil dared to raise his goblet to drink to her health, and all the elves followed suit. She felt so afraid of what was to come tomorrow that she could barely eat or drink, let alone smile and thank them. Her head kept telling her she was going to her death.

It was a sleepless night, therefore, prior to her departure, and she chose to sit up all night on the balcony, watching the stars, the wind in the tops of the trees, the slow rising of the sun. She could not hide from this anymore. She dressed quickly, went to collect her rations from the kitchens, and loaded her weapons onto her back. She did not have much to leave behind, but her old clothes and boots that she had brought from Minas Tirith remained in a folded pile. The pouch containing her crystal was tied beneath her clothes, for she would not risk losing it. A logical, cold part of her debated selling it if she needed food or help along the road. That's if she met any kind-hearted people.

She longed to just steal away, to avoid a drawn-out goodbye, but then she knew Thranduil would doubt she hadn't just run away for good, rather than face the challenge. No, she had to follow his rules.

She had never hated anyone before, not truly. The fact that it was Legolas's father bearing her wrath was uncomfortable. Had Legolas tried to reason with him? It was something she had forgotten to ask him in their stolen moment alone, for she had had more important matters on her mind. Surely, surely he had?

The knock on the door came, and with it her heart fell into her stomach.

"Keren," came Tríwath's voice through the door. "It is time, dear one."

She took a last look around the room, at the view from the window. She would not be coming back here, ever. She would be happy if she never saw Thranduil or his halls again, despite their beauty.

Well you won't if you die, she thought, a dark smile flitting across her lips.

She was shaking, but she knew she must try and still the trembling by the time she reached the courtyard. She would not have Thranduil's last image of her be a fearful one. She opened the door to see Tríwath's solemn face looking down upon her.

"Courage," the elf said simply. Keren nodded.

When they reached the courtyard Thranduil and Legolas were there, along with all the elves who had helped in her training. They had gotten to know her well, and all looked grim at her going, even the ones who had laughed at her at first. Keren would never know if the grimness was because they thought she stood no chance, or because they disagreed with the challenge in the first place. What she wasn't expecting was for all of them to bow before her, touch their hands to their hearts and whisper blessings upon her. She was too tense for tears, but she was able to bow her head in return.

"You still choose to go through with your trial?" Thranduil asked.

"Yes," she whispered, and her breath fogged in the morning air. Thranduil grew very still for a moment, staring into her eyes, as if searching for an act of defiance, something, anything. He looked almost… sad. Finally he sighed.

"So be it," he said. "My son will travel, with companions of his choosing, by river, many months from now. He will meet you at Cormallen as agreed, on the thirty-first day of summer. Should you, by some happy chance, be there before him, you will find some of our people there to greet you, for the area is to be settled. You will be provided for. If you reach the oak tree - yes I know about the oak tree - any day after then, your vows to each other are forfeit, and you will return to your city. You will still hold the title of elf-friend, but you will not live a life with my people. Is this all understood?"

"Yes," she said, a little stronger. "I have a question. If I die, will you send word to my family?"

"If one more year elapses after the date you were due to arrive, we will assume you have met your death on the road, and yes, your family will know of it." He said it without shame.

She nodded. "Thank you for that at least. Thank you everyone for your help." She looked around at the small group of elves. "Legolas…"

She looked over at her beloved. She would not cry, she would not break in front of Thranduil.

"Legolas…" She did not know what to say. He took a step towards her, took his hand in hers and kissed it gently.

"Go with all my love, my blessing, and my prayers. May Elbereth protect you."

She looked up at his fair face, at the shining grey eyes that held so much knowledge, and now so much love.

"I love you." The words didn't even come out, though her lips moved. Behind them Thranduil stood, a silent, threatening presence. She was so very grateful they had said their real goodbye by the pool.

"The sun is at its peak," Thranduil announced. "It is time. I too send the blessing of Elbereth upon you. I do not wish for your death, however much you have chosen to believe that. Should you reach the end of your trial, your courage will have a place in my heart for ever. I wish you well."

This was so unexpected, so at odds with everything else he had said since announcing the trial, that she did not know how to respond. This sounded like the Thranduil she had met, the one that had surprised her with the love he felt for Legolas, the king who had wanted to protect his son from a desolate future. But to now send her to her doom whilst wishing her well… Did she even believe it? It was far too little, too late. Still, she found herself doing an odd little bow.

Legolas's hand was still in hers, and the hardest part was letting her fingers part with his, feeling the sharp, cold, absence where his skin had touched hers. Pain - pain came into her heart. If that was the last touch…

She steeled herself. If she survived this journey it would not be, and the sooner she started the sooner she would reach the end, whether that was inevitable death or a lifetime of happiness.

"I'm ready," she said to no-one in particular. Then with every muscle screaming at her to stay, to run into Legolas's arms, she took a step forward, then another, until she realised she was walking away. She made it to the far end of the bridge in this state, then turned to raise a hand in farewell. All the elves returned her sign. She let her eyes linger on the sight of Legolas one last time, his silver hair blowing in the light wind that blew down the valley, then tore her eyes from him and turned to look over the bridge, at the forest ahead. She hitched her quiver higher on her back, checked her two knives were absolutely, definitely in place crossed behind her shoulders, then began her journey.

The first night she slept surprisingly well, and the night after that. She knew she was still on elven lands, probably watched from afar. It was once she crossed the Enchanted River that she would begin to feel more on edge, but that was still five days march away.

She tended to eat as she walked, the salted meat from the deer she had killed before she left enough to last her for weeks if she ate it sparingly. It took up much of her pack. She had no trouble filling her two water skins regularly either, for the forest was littered with tiny streams that often ran close to the path. But she knew she must save most of the dry food for harder times, so on the third night she cooked a rabbit on a little fire. There wasn't much meat on it, but it was hot and rich. On the seventh day out from the halls she was hoping to reach the river, but it was another two days before she saw it suddenly crossing her path. She supposed she had been sleeping longer than most travellers would. That would soon change when she left Thranduil's lands, she was sure. But still, together with Legolas and the mapmaker, she had calculated that - provided she did not run into trouble or stray from her route - she need only walk three miles each day in order to get to Cormallen on the exact day Legolas would be waiting. That was nothing. But of course she probably would run into trouble, and definitely get lost at some point. Thranduil would not have given her two months of training and ten months to get there if he'd have thought it would be an easy stroll. But if she could arrive early by trying to cover, say, fifteen miles a day…

She shook her head. One day, one hour at a time.

The woodland path had been clear up until now, but past the river she knew it grew wilder, and it would be easier to wander off it. The water slugged by, dark and thick, and the little boat that waited to carry her across looked still and solid, as if daring her not to trust it to cut through the water. The air on the other bank seemed heavier than where she stood now. It was the mundane air of non-elven lands she was feeling, not especially welcoming or hopeful. It had been months since she had ventured into the world of men, but crossing into the true dark of Mirkwood was very different from leaving Lórien for the outside world. Then she had felt an excitement to return home. Now… she didn't know what to feel.

She stepped down into the boat and carefully paddled across. If she fell she knew she would lose days in an enchanted sleep, and perhaps drown in the process, with no one to save her. Setting foot on the far bank she felt the watchfulness leave her. Now she truly was on her own. Gone were the light beech glades and the rolling hills of the wood-elves land - now she faced a dark march alone through parts of the forest that the returning light had not yet penetrated.

Suddenly Legolas's face came into her mind, something she had been fighting against the whole time, for fear it would make her step less certain. It was their first meeting, that was where her mind wanted to travel to, beneath the willow tree that would later witness them plighting their troth, the first time she had ever laid eyes on him. She had been crying, and he had tried not to unnerve her, but failed, for she had never seen an elf before. She smiled at the memory of when she had been so close to him, all the wonderful unfolding of their connection hidden from both of them at the time. But suddenly all went dark, and she remembered what was happening, and that she may never see him again. For the first time in her journey she wept, stifling sobs until her chest and throat hurt, for she would need to be quiet and stealthy through this part of the woods. It was at least another week's journey on foot to the edge of the forest, and that was if all went well. She prayed that she would not attract the attention of the spiders she knew now still lurked in the darkness. A lonely traveller would be easy pickings, although hard to hear if she was sensible. With nothing for it but to go on, she took the path.

Three days later and she had had no sleep. She found every time she shut her eyes one would immediately open and forbid her from getting rest. She had heard nothing, but she did not feel safe wherever she rested, despite being far past where the spiders had attacked her and Legolas. Their webs still lined the path, and until they disappeared she would not be off her guard. She walked along endlessly in a trance-like state, by day and night, and some part of her brain still functioning thought at least this meant she was making good time.

If I carry on at this rate I'll be through the forest in no time, she thought dimly, as if a human body didn't need to sleep.

One day - she had lost track of counting the passing nights - she woke up sprawled across the path, and realised she must have collapsed where she stood. Well, no harm had come to her, and she had finally got some sleep. She got up and walked on, and after that she found it easier to trust in her choice of resting place each time she grew weary, and her body managed to find some semblance of peace.

There was not much food to be had in this darker part of the forest, but she did manage to bring down a squirrel that came close to the path. She tried not to think too hard about it as she chewed, concentrating instead on the sustenance it would give her.

She felt as if she really should be reaching the edge of the woods by now. She had only stopped to rest a few nights, and had been careful never to lose sight of the path. But if anything the air seemed heavier rather than showing the promise of thinning trees. One morning she had had enough and decided it was worth the risk of disturbing the trees - she must climb one, to see the lie of the land.

She looked up warily. In her city of stone there had been few trees to climb as a child, certainly none even half as tall as those that crowded around her now. But needs must. She would have to trust that her training had improved her balance as well as her strength. Leaving her pack at the base of the trunk, but keeping her bow and quiver on her back, she began to climb. She had chosen a tree with broad branches, fairly evenly spaced, so she was able to sit and rest halfway up, being careful not to look down.

Starting her climb again, she fought against the dizziness that was telling her she was too high for her mind's liking, though it might have had something to do with the physical exertion without proper meals and rest. Her body needed to get used to this new way of living, and fast.

Finally some light beamed through, and she sighed in relief. The branches had grown thinner here, and more sloping, so she clung on with her arms for the last push as her head broke through the branches. Sunlight blinded her, and she smiled with happiness at feeling the outside world, despite having to immediately close her eyes. Squinting, she let them adjust until she could make sense of what she saw.

The low morning sun shone over in the east, and there she saw the eastern edge of the forest far away, and then far, far in the distance a lonely mountain against the sky. She wondered if that was the Lonely Mountain, where Gimli hailed from. Not wanting to dwell too much on the east, for she knew that way lay Legolas, her only weakness so far in all of this, she swivelled the opposite way, and gasped.

Almost the same distance lay between her and the western side as the east. How could that be? Nine days had brought her to the Enchanted River, the halfway point, and she knew she had been walking away from it for a further seven, at least. She should have been close to, or even at the edge of the forest by now. What had happened?

And then it hit her. When she had awoken from her unexpected sleep, she had drowsily got up and plodded on in the direction her body was facing from the fall. She had been too tired to take note of her surroundings, and therefore…

Stupid, stupid, stupid! She wanted to scream into the empty morning sky with her idiocy.

Of course she could have fallen strangely, of course she could have turned as she stumbled out of consciousness. And her exhausted eyes had not been taking in any familiar sights of the path that lay behind - now ahead. Three days. She had been walking back on herself for at least three days.

She felt totally wretched then. How could she possibly hope to survive this journey if she did not even have the common sense to check which way she was walking? A kindly voice in her head reminded her that beneath the trees she had not had the sun to guide her, but she shook off the self-sympathy in frustration. Three days wasted, and the food and water that went with them.

"Idiot." She spoke aloud, quietly, despondently.

But there was nothing to be done. She would climb down, and she would begin the march again, the right way this time, and she now knew she was not quite a week's journey from the western edge. Taking a last deep breath of fresh air she began her descent, tired limbs shaking by the time she jumped down to the forest floor. Wanting to rest, she instead shouldered her pack, and began the day's long trudge through the darkness.

Five days passed with little trouble, and her heart lifted when the air began to grow clearer, and the trees thinned slightly. How she had got away with not disturbing the spiders she would never know.

Perhaps Legolas killed the last desperate few of them that day, she mused, before cutting off her thoughts of the elf. Whenever he entered her mind she felt a pain, but when this passed her resolve was always stronger.

That evening, as she lay very still and quiet, a small doe drew near, unaware of her, cautious and gentle. The temptation to shoot was overwhelming, and Keren weighed up in her mind whether the delay of skinning and cooking the animal was worth it. Her stomach rumbled. It was. She could feast tonight, and salt and smoke some of the meat to keep for other days.

Slowly she reached for an arrow and drew her bow. Both eyes open, breathing steady, elbow high. The deer was still, although Keren sensed it was ready to spring away at the smallest sound. She would have to be quick, and accurate. But if she could shoot a squirrel and a rabbit, she could shoot a deer, easily. Aiming for the heart - she wanted a quick death for the beast - she was about to loose the arrow when -

"You'd better not be doing what I think you are doing." A very strange voice said, a voice with a low rumbling roar at the back of it. Of course it made the deer speed away immediately. Keren froze with fright. She had not expected to meet anyone on this path other than spiders.

She turned, afraid to see who might own such a voice, but curious. A tall, stocky young woman stood before her, wild black hair in a tangle around her frowning face. Her arms were heavy and muscular, and she bore an axe on her back. She looked…

"Skinchanger," Keren said to herself without thinking.

"Thank you for reminding me. Who are you?" The woman said loudly.

She had been ready for this question.

"Dannor, son of Hadrion, a merchant of Laketown."

The skinchanger looked her up and down.

"Son of, is it?" she asked, and Keren immediately knew her disguise had failed. To elves, who often admit they take little notice of humans, it may have been enough, but this creature knew her sex straightaway. Still…

"Yes," Keren said, firmly. "Son."

The woman chuckled without smiling, and it sounded like a growl.

"Very well, Dannor. Where is the young son of a Laketown merchant going to, so far from home, wandering the elf path alone?"

"What is it to you?" Keren said abruptly.

"I wouldn't take that tone. It doesn't take much to anger my kind. And when we are angry we kill. Just a friendly warning." But she didn't smile.

"I'm travelling south," Keren said quickly. Not a lie. "To… the elves. I want a cure for my father's sickness."

"Indeed. Friends with elves are you?"

"I have been in the Elvenking's halls these past three months." Again, not a lie, and would explain her strange clothes. "But he - he sent me south, for he did not have what I needed."

The skinchanger did smile this time. "You are a terrible liar, Dannor. But you have no evil about you, so I will not question further. But I do want to know if you were planning to kill and eat my friend."

"Your friend?"

"All animals are my friends. My people do not eat our own. If you did shoot at her, I would have killed you."

"Then why did you stop me?"

The woman went to laugh at Keren's stubbornness, but her face grew grim.

"Because I am not my father, nor my brother. I like to think a little, before I rashly kill."

She seemed to consider whether to go on, but shrugged her large shoulders and spoke.

"I am Yrsa, daughter of Grimbeorn, son of the great Beorn. I watch the western reaches of the elf path, close to the forest edge, in return for them guarding our new northern borders. We are but a few hours march to the end of the trees. What are you planning once you are through the forest?"

Keren blinked. Was this an offer of help?

"I… To - to head straight south, through your lands, and then… far beyond."

Yrsa looked at her steadily.

"I am young in the reckoning of my people," she said. "I have not met many folk outside my own, save those woodmen we have dealings with. Elves, once in a blue moon. But I know when there are strange stirrings in the world. So I will not ask you many questions, Dannor. But know that, in the fields and woods of my people, you will be safe from goblin, warg and wolf, for they dare not enter our lands. We're that bad."

She raised her bushy eyebrows and smiled as she said the last words, and Keren smiled back. Could she trust this - this bear woman? She thought so, but her judge of character was often off.

"Dannor will not do, by the way," Yrsa added. Keren tried not to react. "It is a name strange to me, so must be of the south. My people and the wood folk will not trust you if you claim to come from Laketown with a name like that. Also, you're so clearly a girl, you need a girl's name. We'll call you Elfwyn, for that is clearly what you are. Your clothes are elf, your weapons are elf, you speak like elf, you smell of elf. But still, I will ask no questions."

"Why are you helping me?" Keren wondered. She had not expected to meet anyone on the road quite this kind, especially not so soon into her journey.

Yrsa shrugged. "Why not? You couldn't hurt me if you tried, even with your elf weapons. I might as well trust you and help you along your road, at least for a little way."

She held out her giant hand. Keren took it, her small fingers crushed. She tried not to show her grimace.

"Thank you," she said.

Legolas and Thranduil sat at dinner, the empty chair making Keren's absence even more conspicuous.

"Greenleaf, I have news which perhaps will cheer you," Thranduil said, his voice loud after all the silence. "I had debated whether to tell you, but I fear it cannot do any harm, now."

Legolas looked up, and the pain in his eyes made even Thranduil's heart contract.

"I'm listening," Legolas answered. All pleading and attempts to barter with his father had fallen on deaf ears. And now Keren had gone, and he had not gone with her. He felt like a failure. But he knew she would not have listened to his pleas to stay, for she would not have accepted a lifetime without him in it. And he did not want that either. He had had to let her go, for that tiny chance that she would succeed.

Should he maybe have challenged his father, threatened to fight him over the woman he loved? Watching him now, delicately eating with his fingers, calculatingly, gently breaking apart his food, Legolas felt a spike of hatred he had not felt before. But to kill his father, to even fight him? That was not who he was. Death would not solve this. He would forever be shunned for killing a king, and he was no kin-slayer.

"She reached and crossed the river safely," Thranduil said quietly. "I had guards watch her all the way. I forbade them from making their presence known - she must believe she is alone, or it will not be a true test. But she would never have come to harm. Now she is beyond our borders there is little else I can do, save hope she runs into some of our new neighbours. The skinchangers now patrol as far north as our road, I sent emissaries to them to agree to an exchange of guard duties, which they did. That was for her sake, though they do not know this. They will be watching her through their lands. Beyond that she will pass into the realm of Celeborn, whom I have also instructed of her coming. Once she comes to the Brown Lands, though, then she is beyond anyone's aid other than those that fortune may bring to her on the road. Then will her true test begin."

Legolas froze, and hoped dared to kindle in his heart.

"Had you planned this all along?" he wondered.

"I did not expect her to agree to the challenge," Thranduil said shortly. "I expected her to think about it, decide it was too much to face, and decline. It would have made no difference - you had bonded, there was nothing I could truly do to keep you apart. Should she have declined the challenge, there was nothing to prevent you both from stealing away and living your own life, together. Married, but without my blessing. Still, what would that have mattered to you?"

"But all that you said… the customs…"

"Greenleaf, has it not occurred to you that I am allowing you to forego a life as my heir? To set up your own colony in Ithilien, even though I know you will leave this middle-earth before I? I am allowing you to leave, to not take up the throne here when I sail. This land, this place, will fade, will give itself up to the forest. Our customs are dying, they are sailing away with our people. Ciraen is of the race of men, and it is their customs that will rule. I was challenging her only, testing her. Testing you. You both put your future together before your current happiness, she to the extreme. She was willing to risk her life, for you, for your future together. She had already passed my test, just by accepting."

Legolas stood as rage blazed through him.

"Then why did you let her go?!" he shouted. "Why this foolish masquerade?! Now she is beyond our aid!"

Thranduil remained quite calm.

"Because I could see in her eyes, even at the very last moment of parting, that she wanted to go. Some part of her, some desperate, fierce slice of her soul, needed to prove herself, to no-one but herself. She was using her hatred towards me as an excuse - and she does hate me. I kept pushing her, wanting her to collapse, to say she could not do it. But every time I goaded her, it seemed to make her more determined, so that rather backfired. Though I admired her for it. But all is as it should be, I feel. Her little life has been leading to this, Greenleaf. As soon as you wrote to say you loved a mortal, I knew there was more at play. When such things happen, the world wakes up. There was something she was not telling me, something I am sure she has not told even you. Perhaps I will never know, now. This journey is more to do with that, I am sure, than any ties with you. The hand of fate is upon her."

Legolas could not speak for all the emotions pounding through him. But Thranduil was not done.

"Did she tell you the provenance of the ring you chose for her?" he asked his son.

Legolas could only shake his head.

"Lúthien's. Apparently," Thranduil said shortly. "It was gifted to me when I was a child, in Doriath, for no other reason than I liked shiny things. Do you know who gave it to me, as a parting gift when she left to cross the mountains?"

Legolas could guess. The name had started to haunt him.

"If you say Galadriel…"

Thranduil smiled wryly.

"You see how everything flows around us? All is one long story. Am I saying the Lady knew even then that I would grow to have a son, who in his turn would grow to love a mortal, who would one day bear her gift? I am not sure."

Legolas's mind was reeling, and he sat down again, heavily.

"She is worthy of that gift, Greenleaf," his father said. "The one it was made for was worthy too. May Ciraen have her luck."

Author note: See, he's not *that* bad... I hope Thranduil fans are mildly appeased.