The little bell above the door alerted the shop owner to a new customer before he saw her approach the counter. His dark brown eyes took in the frumpled state of the young woman, from her slouched shoulders to her deep frown. The look didn't suit her at all. "Something got you riled up today, sheila?"
He went about collecting her usual order of flowers for the late season; dashes of white poinsettias were mixed with the red, with sprigs of assorted accent stems to pull the bouquet together. She fidgeted with her jacket's zip pull as she watched him arrange the flowers. "It's just work, Mr. Aster."
"The customers?"
"The boss." she deadpanned. "Ever since he has shown up to take Terry's place things have gone downhill! He yells at us on the floor - during hours - and has now set in new regulations that are literally insane!"
"I was wonderin' why you were here earlier than normal," Mr. Aster replied. "You usually don't come in till the 16th or so."
Wennie shrugged. "I have to take my opportunities when I can right now. Because of this," she pointed to her hair, "I have to work the morning shift when there are few customers so I won't be 'an eyesore with my mismatched hair'. I'm also supposed to lose some weight, but I think I can squeeze in some time at the campus fitness center."
Each sentence she spoke only became more sarcastic, which had the shop owner raise a brow in surprise. Ever since the first time she had come to buy a bouquet of flowers, Mr. Aster had learned a little about the young woman through their conversations. She was alone in the world, and had little to show for her life except her college grades and the hours she spent waiting tables. The idea of suggesting that she quit nearly crossed his lips, but from her tone and demeanor this afternoon it would not be a wise choice of words. 'Something tells me she already knows what she needs to do,' he thought as he rung up her purchase.
Carefully balancing the bouquet in her arms, Wennie offered Mr. Aster the first smile she had given anyone that morning. "I know I say this every time, but thank you. You do such an amazing job on all of my orders!"
"Think nothing of it, darlin'." He told her kindly as she made to leave the little shop.
After wishing her a good day, he left the counter and moved to bring in his products from outside for the night. He could see her walk the long pathway down the street, then across the intersection and continue on before her silhouette disappeared over the hill. Each month it was the same; Wennie would come in for her "usual" order, which varied depending on the season of the year, and after some small talk, she would pay for her order and walk the long way to her destination. Mr. Aster had tried in the past to discount her order total, but she would have none of it, claiming it to be a disservice to his work. 'That little girl comes in every month to buy flowers for her mother's headstone. How could I not do my best work?'
"I must admit, it's nice having a familiar face to work out with in the evenings."
The college fitness center was an offset building from the gymnasium, connected by a large set of locker rooms with shower facilities. Students had access to the fitness center by way of their student IDs and a sign-in sheet, but outsiders could pay a small fee to use the equipment as well. The later hours of the day saw fewer numbers of occupants making use of the center, choosing instead to spend their time elsewhere in relaxation.
Wennie had come to the fitness center directly from her history class, and had encountered Esther in the locker rooms. While she hadn't expected to run into anyone she knew, she had to admit that having a friend to talk to would help move things along. "I'm hoping that as soon as I can be allowed to work nights again, I will."
"In other words, don't get too used to it. I gotcha." Esther stretched her limbs lightly before climbing onto the leg press seat, adjusting it's dials and weights before beginning her set. "So what exactly is going on with work? Bernard said something to Jack about your boss being a complete douche."
"That's putting it nicely." Wennie settled on the rowing machine nearby. As she began to set her pace, she explained the situation. "According to Rick, I have to lose weight or I won't be allowed to serve the rush crowds like I'm scheduled to do. My hair has nearly been fixed, but my weight is still the problem."
"That's bullshit!" Esther's exclamation and distraction meant that the leg press came rushing back to its resting place, bringing her knees up to her collar bone. With a few deep breaths she managed to extend her legs again, slowly going back to her reps. "I mean, there has to be something illegal in that!"
"What can I do? I need to work, and the newest girls he hired can't keep the pace of the night rush!" Each word was met with a jerk from the handle of the machine, and the roar of the fanbelt within was proof of just how hard Wennie was pulling. The sudden amount of sweat on her brow and shoulders was also a clue. "Gene told me when he pulled a double shift the other week that Rick had them in tears after the restaurant closed! They just started two weeks ago!"
"Is that even enough time to learn the routine?"
Wennie shook her head, once she came to a stop on the machine. "Not anymore. He keeps changing things, and without warning."
Esther completed her set and looked over at her friend, who was still sitting on the rowing machine, bent over her knees. Wennie's face was red, she was sweating a lot, and she was breathing like she had escaped a zombie hoard. It was easy to see that this was stressing her out, and while they didn't have the same class meetings, she knew of the work that Wennie had to do before the end of term. "Hey," she said, getting her attention. "I know you're sick of hearing this, but maybe you ought to think about leaving- Hear me out, before you blow up. B also said something about you having a friend over in Europe."
"...So?"
"Why not go with Bernard to this company party this year? You could use a vacation, and from the way he talks, you've already been talking with your friend long enough to be known."
"How is that going to help me with work?" Wennie asked tiredly. When she felt that she could stand up, she moved over to the line of treadmills against the wall.
Esther followed, stepping up on the one beside her. "Change of scenery usually does some good, or so they say. Then again, getting some also gives you a better perspective, if you know what I mean," she said with a wink.
Wennie nearly slapped the wrong button on the treadmill's panel, catching her mistake and adjusting the speed to something that wouldn't send her across the room. Sparing a half-glance-half-glare at Esther, she said, "When did my friend from Scotland become my fuckbuddy?!"
"Hey! I never said fuckbuddy! It was implied, but you said it, not me!"
"So when are you guys going back to Scotland?"
"I would estimate the end of the month," Galion said, checking the calendar. "Perhaps after Thanksgiving at the earliest, once the chaos of return travelers has dissolved."
Wennie looked dubiously to Thranduil. "Is he serious? You'd be lucky if the flight plans are settled by the beginning of the year!"
"We have our own personal means of flying," Thranduil replied. "It is not so much a matter of whom you are flying with, but rather when it is safe for us to travel among the commercial airlines." He looked up from the magazine he had been skimming. "Have you made a decision, daughter?"
She sighed. It was like once she accepted to be called 'Ithilwen' by her family, Thranduil had also wanted to slip in 'daughter' every once in a while. It was strange at first, but by no means was he trying to replace her actual adar. "I...haven't...not yet," she said shamefully. "Legolas keeps telling me not to worry about it."
"You shouldn't."
"But I do! I can't help it!" Wennie leaned back in her chair, catching a whiff of the food that Galion had been preparing. "I feel almost as guilty about eating your cooking, Galion."
"You shouldn't," the dark haired ellon echoed, setting the plate down before her. "You need to eat, Ithilwen. You are looking rather thin."
Wennie picked up the fork given to her and stared at her plate. She wanted to eat, she desperately did, but could she afford to? The amount of time she had spent at the fitness center for the last few weeks was doing nothing to assure her that she was getting thinner. Some things were firmer, but she wasn't losing the inches she needed to. To help balance it out, or perhaps speed up the process, she had taken to skipping meals, eating small amounts when she had to...such as eating dinner with Thranduil and Galion.
"I have to lose some weight," she retorted half-heartedly, not even believing the words she said anymore. They were an excuse, and all they seemed to do was irritate everyone around her.
Thranduil gave her a hard stare from across the table. "Do not let the words of a mortal convince you of something that is a natural part of you. Ithilwen, your form was never built to be thin, and as such, your vessel now reflects that. Elves rarely gain or lose excessive amounts of weight under normal circumstances, childbearing is perhaps the only instance. For you to succumb to that man's requirements, you would need to let your body wither to nearly ash and bone. Is that something that you wish to do? Do you wish to waste away to satisfy a mortal who will decompose faster than you could be reembodied? Do you wish for me to tell my son that his mate has chosen to throw her second life away for the demands of a mortal?"
Never had Wennie heard Thranduil speak so harshly, and she knew she had been due to be given this speech for a while. It had been Galion that had managed to clam the once-king, as his temper was steadily growing. She knew that she was being foolish, and this just further brought it home. It's not like she was alone anymore either. She had a family now, a big family, and a husband, and they all wanted to see her. Healthy and alive.
"No," she whispered, looking at the table. "No, I don't want to do that to Legolas. I...I couldn't."
"Then what is your plan?" Galion had asked her softly.
Wennie picked up her fork once again, looking up to face them. "Tonight, I will eat. I'll clean my plate, Galion. Tomorrow, when I go in to work, I'll talk with Rick, and I'll explain it to him. I'll make him see that I am just as capable even if I am not stick-thin."
"Good," Thranduil said, looking at her with a hint of a smile. "And at the end of this week, you will join us for Thanksgiving dinner."
"I thought you guys didn't celebrate the day."
"We don't, normally. But this year we've decided to make an exception, for we have many things to be thankful for, daughter."
"Rick," Wennie called out as she approached the office door, "May I speak with you?"
She had dressed for work, save for her corset, which lay in her hands. Her hair was pulled back into a low bun, hiding the tips of her ears, which had thankfully stopped hurting once the points had finished forming. Her makeup was simple, nothing outrageous like it had been in the past. The plan was simple; appear presentable before the boss, plead her case, and hope she could get back into her work routine. The catch would be him approving.
Rick, for whatever reason, had been in an unusual mood that morning, so Wennie was caught off guard as she was called into the office with a nicer tone than he had ever used with her one-on-one. Wennie entered slowly, trying not to make it obvious that she was looking for any kinds of trip wires or traps that could set her up with a pink slip. Instead, everything was normal. Rick was sitting back in his office chair, turned to face her and waiting for her to begin.
"Yes, Sioda?"
It was freaky, him being so calm. "I...I wanted to speak with you, sir, about...my schedule." Rick didn't make any motion of protest, so she continued. "Sir, while I truly appreciate you allowing me to come back to work in the morning shifts, my school schedule is interfering. As it is almost the end of term, I have final exams and multiple research projects that need to be completed in the coming weeks. When I applied for this job, I opted to work the evening hours so that I could attend classes without stress, but this term's schedule is mostly reserved for the morning hours...when I'm scheduled to work."
Rick held up a hand silently and Wennie stopped, fearing that he was about to go on the attack. He said, "You need to take your evening shifts back then, I take it?"
"Yes sir," she said softly. "I understand that you are not happy with me, and I could be potentially altering the other girls' time tables with this request. I am aware of that. I just...need to make it known that this is my second to last term of college, and I have come too far to fail. Many of the projects are group-based, and they are counting on me to follow through with my tasks as well. I will do what I can to make up the difference for anyone that will be displaced," she added, "I'll even forfeit my days off if it means that I can work at night."
"You are right about the displacement, Sioda," Rick said carefully. "The new girls will have to make adjustments. However, I believe that we can arrange it so that you can work nights."
Wennie nearly gasped out loud. Had it been that easy? Surely not! This was Rick!
"Still," he began again, and she felt her chest tighten in anxiety. "There are some things that we still need to discuss before you resume your regular shifts."
It was too good to be true. "Yes, sir?" At this point she was willing to convert to demonic ritual studies if it meant that she could get her schedule straightened out.
"First," he ticked off on one hand, "Your behavior needs to improve. With me, with the new girls, and with the worst customers. I am aware that they are difficult, but they bring in business. You must be willing to show more respect to all members of this staff, regardless of how long you have known them. We are a unit, and without all hands functioning as one, we fall apart."
"I understand sir," she nodded. "Please forgive me of my past discretions. I have been under a lot of stress."
Rick nodded briefly. "Aren't we all. Second, your appearance is suitable, however I am curious as to why you are carrying part of your uniform this morning. You know that one of the newest requirements is to maintain a collective size in order to bus tables. From where I am sitting, it does not appear that you have changed much."
Wennie bit the inside of her cheek to keep from retorting in a snappish way. This was one thing that she had anticipated him pointing out, and the urge to bite his head off was looking better and better. But she had to remain calm and respectful, after all, he was offering to put her back on the night shift. She'd have to pick her battles carefully.
"That's why I'm holding this," she indicated with the corset. "I have been working at the fitness center on campus since you put me on leave, and no matter how much cardio or strength training I do, I cannot lose the weight. I've even resorted to skipping meals and eating the bare minimum to function from day to day. I have lost weight, however it's just not showing everywhere." To further prove her point, Wennie turned to her left and lifted the side of her blouse, exposing the defined lines of her rib cage and dip where her hip bone had begun to protrude. When Galion had commented on how thin she was the night before, he had no idea just how much she had lost.
Rick didn't say anything, which made her wonder if this display would do any good. After a few minutes, he sighed. "Alright Sioda. Since it looks like you're not getting any smaller, just make some adjustments to your uniform. Cinch the corset tighter or something to appear thinner if you have to."
The lack of breakfast that morning was evident as stomach acid worked its way up. Wennie thought she was going to be sick, like caused from anger. No words of concern about her health, nothing about how she was starving herself to keep her job! Just cinch the corset tighter?!
Through clenched teeth, Wennie responded in as respectful a tone as she could muster. "I will crack ribs if I must, sir." There was no way she was going to back down from his suggestion; she was more than willing to break a ribcage if it came to it. She would have rather it been his, though.
Work that morning had been short. Rick had given her leave to make her day classes, telling her to return right after to take Becky's shift that night. In the span of time that she had been gone, Wennie learned just why Rick had been so "nice" about giving her her normal schedule back.
Victor had been there.
The owner of Cogs and Coins had been spending more time observing the changes that Rick was implementing, which meant that the boss had to play nice with his employees or risk raising the ire of his boss. Wennie had always liked Victor, and knowing that he was hovering just over Rick the Dictator with his thumb on the pules of the restaurant was incredibly relaxing. Unfortunately, that ended with the evening shift, as Victor had left to return home just before she arrived, and things had been back to the norm.
At school, Wennie had to hunt and peck between her classes to find each of her group members to inform them of her current situation. To her horror, she had learned that out of one group of seven, four had dropped the class three days before. Now all of the work was divided between the three remaining members, who already had piles of tasks to complete in other classes. She assured this group, as her other ones, that she would deliver on her end of the assignment, even if she missed some of the group meetings. In that one particular group, however, this promise wasn't very comforting. She couldn't blame them. Not being present for the evening meetings only made it more difficult to ease their minds about her presence in the work, because she was working for her paycheck to keep the bills paid. All of her research papers were a jumble of notes and half-written outlines; not so much as a first draft.
All of this stress was only further added with the lack of time Wennie got to talk with Legolas. In a normal week, she would have spoken to him at least two times a day. Recently, that time has been shortened to two times a week, and it didn't look like it was going to get any better. He understood, as he told her each time they did talk. Wennie still felt a huge amount of guilt though. Yet nothing could compare to the ache she felt when she slept that night.
Wennie found herself back in what she came to know as Lothlorien, observing a more matured version of herself as she went about her days. Most of it would be typical chores, not being of any particular importance, but it allowed her to see what she did as an elf maid. Other fragments would involve her learning to fight alongside her cousin. It was meant as an exercise in knowledge, not in any practical application, but Wennie could see that she was being taught to do damage if she was in such a situation. No screaming or whistle-blowing here.
The fragments of the dreams that she most looked forward to were the ones where she awaited letters from Legolas. In these, she could see herself look anxiously for the messenger that would come to her personally. Other times, she would seek him out, much to the amusement of her family. Wennie saw that these letters were a big deal to her former self, and she paid close attention to each word that was recited from the parchment. The first few times she had tried to read over Ithilwen's shoulder, only to get frustrated when she realized that she couldn't decode the elegant script. This was something she hoped she would remember, because the thought of having to relearn it was daunting. It was after that that Wennie took to sitting beside Ithilwen on her customary bench as she read the letter to herself.
That night in Wennie's dreams, something different happened. Something that left her uneasy as she walked through the dream-forest to find Ithilwen.
Ithilwen was sitting at their usual spot, trying to keep from twisting her hands together with worry. Wennie took a seat beside her, noticing that her former self also worried her bottom lip. "What's wrong?" she asked, knowing that the elleth wouldn't hear her.
"Where could he be?" Ithilwen muttered, and somehow Wennie knew that she referred to the messenger.
"Maybe he's caught in traffic?" Wennie responded, sighing when she remembered that her sass was going unnoticed by herself.
Ithilwen turned sharply, and Wennie nearly shat herself in surprise when blue eyes met her own. 'Holy fucking hell can she see me?!'
"Lannian," she called, and Wennie let out a breath of air. "Do you bring any news from the Woodland Realm?" It was apparent that Ithilwen was trying to remain collected, but Wennie could see the subtle mention of Legolas in her eyes. 'Good lord, was I that far gone already?'
The messenger, Wennie noted with some apprehension, was not making direct eye contact with her former self. It appeared that Ithilwen noticed this as well, for she repeated her question. When Lannian answered, it was not what either wanted to hear. "My Lady," he swallowed, "Lord Celeborn requests your audience regarding the letters from our Woodland kin." He then bowed and excused himself, as if he were delayed by delivering this message instead.
Ithilwen wasted no time in bolting from the scene, and Wennie shot after her, desperate to find out what had happened. She chased herself through the forest floor of the realm, up a spiral set of stairs to a large flet, and through a wide door to reveal that they had entered a highly reserved meeting area. This was her grandfather's library, it appeared.
Celeborn regarded his granddaughter with an incline of his head, motioning for her to sit down. Wennie was right at her side as a support of curiosity and comfort, though she couldn't help her past self. "It appears that you have heard my summons, penneth."
"Lannian just informed me," Ithilwen said. "What is this news, grandfather? Why have I not received a letter from Legolas?"
Wennie didn't like how her grandfather seemed to stall before answering. When he did speak, she really didn't like the answer. "I received a missive from Prince Legolas just a while ago," he said. "In it he made it evident that he no longer wished to correspond with you, Ithilwen."
She could see the light that was in Ithilwen's eyes dim at these words, and the lack of compassion in her grandfather's expression only angered Wennie. How could this be the same elf lord that was so wise and revered? She had been told by her own mother that her grandfather was a very kind a loving figure to her and her cousins. How could this same elf stand here and tell one of his grandchildren something so painful without the slightest sign of remorse?
"Why?" The word was spoken so softly that Wennie wouldn't have heard it if she hadn't been right beside her.
"The letter specified that the prince has become too enraptured with his own people to take time away from his duties to write letters to you. There will no longer be any correspondence between yourself and the future king of the Woodland Realm. That is all there is to be said, granddaughter."
After these words, Celeborn had seemingly left the room. Wennie couldn't bring herself to look away from Ithilwen to know for sure if he was gone, or if he had just simply faded from the present memory. She watched her former self, seeing the words he had said begin to sink in as her eyes filled with tears. Knowing it was impossible, Wennie still tried to put her arm around Ithilwen as the elleth began to cry.
Wennie was at a loss and didn't know what to do. She could only watch helplessly as the elleth's soft cries turned to sobs, and it broke her heart. How could this happen? Why did this happen? They were married now, so surely there must have been something that fixed everything, right?
-x-x-x-x-x-
A/N: Another bit of a cliffhanger, but I already know how the next chapter will play out, and this will be one piece of the story that I won't leave you waiting find out what happens!
I normally respond to guest reviews on my tumblr, but for the guest whom recently reviewed - thank you! I absolutely loved your response because when I read it I thought "Yes! They get it!". Wennie is meek compared to Ithilwen, but not all meek people will take being kicked forever. She's going to get her moment (really soon) that I think you will enjoy! We've got to remember that she's stubborn about doing things herself for a reason; for so long she hasn't had anyone else. It's a simple thing that is a pain of a habit to break, unfortunately. She's gradually getting her memories back, and from here on out it's going to be like rolling a rock downhill for her.
Thank you guys again for all your input on these stories! I appreciate it so very much, so don't be afraid to stick it to one of the characters if you find something wrong. :) I am by no means writing them to be perfect, and seeing y'alls opinions on them really helps me as I work!
