A/N: Thank you so much to the following for all those wonderful reviews on the last chapter: Cat2k10, Amalie Petersen, ndavis77, LadyAurelia, Raider-K, Ivgotmadskills, Blue1258, Cricklewood16, WickedGreene13, stubs1101, Katia0203, leward1992, CygnusRift, Ashes2Dust18, 01Katie, d'elfe, durinsdaughter2469btw and GaaraSandNin. All those kind words really means the world to me, so thank you so much for all the support and motivation. You guys are the best!
Here is the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it :)
Thranduil groaned as he opened his eyes, his mind feeling somewhat sluggish as he tried to wake from the thick sludge of alcohol-induced sleep. The incessant headache, as well as the far too bright light that filtered through the window, told the familiar tell-tale signs of a hangover. By the Valar, it had been a while since he had experience such a sensation! That was some potent stuff Carl had in his possession!
Thranduil blinked a few times to clear his head and finally sat up with caution, flinging aside the blanket Charlotte had draped over him during the night. Thankfully, Carl's 'whiskey' was not as inebriating as Dorwinion, and he was not suffering the severe after effects as much as he would have been if they had spent the day consuming the elvish wine. Still, his head felt as though a dull drum was beating an annoying and incessant tempo against his skull, ceaseless in its torment. Not to mention that his mouth felt as though it were stuffed with cotton.
Voices from the kitchen alerted him to the fact that he had slept in far later than usual - he had even out slept Charlotte, and that was saying something! Disappointment laced through him at the realisation that he had probably slept alone last night, and he recalled that he had been quite looking forward to sharing Charlotte's bed. Curse Carl's 'whiskey'!
Thranduil rubbed the last remnants of sleep from his face and stood. Dorwinion wine would have, without a doubt, left him in far worse shape, so he considered himself quite lucky that he was quite functional.
Thranduil made his way to the kitchen. Charlotte and Carl were sitting at the table, Charlotte nursing a cup of tea and Carl had a foul looking glass of thick red liquid sitting in front of him. Charlotte noticed his appearance first and gave him a warm smile that lit her face with a radiance that he felt drawn to each and every time. Thranduil returned her smile and came to sit down next to her, clasping her smaller hand in his own.
"So, Sleeping Beauty has finally woken up. Nice of you to join the land of the living," Carl muttered, his head clutched in his beefy hands, not bothering to look up at the elf.
"You woke up only fifteen minutes ago," Charlotte pointed out.
Carl gruffly muttered something unintelligible under his breath, his words too thick for Thranduil to make out, though he was certain that Carl, in his own way, was giving Charlotte a piece of his mind.
Charlotte grinned and took a sip of her tea. She turned her attention to Thranduil. "Want a cup?"
"Please," he replied, eager for a bit of rejuvenation that only a good cup of tea could offer at this very moment.
Charlotte went to prepare him some tea while Thranduil turned his attention back to the bedraggled man in front of him.
"Here, try this," Carl stated, sliding the glass of the thick red sludge towards Thranduil.
"Past experience has taught me to exercise caution with regards to what you now offer me to drink," Thranduil replied diplomatically.
Carl chuckled, the sound reverberating from deep within his chest. Finally, he dropped his hands from his head and stared back at Thranduil with puffy and tired looking eyes, though they gleamed with amusement.
Thranduil, curiosity getting the better of him, picked up the glass and raised it to eye-level, scrutinising the unappealing looking liquid within. "What is it?"
"Hair of the dog hangover cure."
Thranduil arched a brow, directing his silent and questioning look towards Carl.
"Ah, of course…you wouldn't know about that. It's a cocktail consisting of tomato juice, lemon juice, Worcestershire sauce, Tabasco, and vodka. Though, Charlotte had no vodka so I had to substitute it with wine, seeing as we drank all the good stuff last night." Carl pulled a face as though this was an abomination that rocked him to his very core.
Thranduil took a tentative sniff, wrinkling his nose in distaste and put the glass back down in front of Carl.
"I'll pass."
Carl sighed heavily. "I guess there's no putting it off then." Thranduil watched with rapt fascination as the man lifted the glass to his lips and downed it in a few noisy gulps. Carl clanked the glass down on the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Ugh! I definitely should have added vodka. Pansy-assed wine just don't cut it."
Charlotte returned, placing the cup of tea in front of Thranduil, who gave her a warm smile of thanks and took a sip. The hot, infusing liquid cleared his mind to manageable proportions, more so than what Carl's concoction would have.
"Next time don't drink so much, then you won't have to suffer like this the next morning," Charlotte scolded playfully.
"You know, Charlotte, I'm starting to think you have very little empathy for my plight."
"Your pain is self-inflicted, Carl. You're not going to get any sympathy from me," she countered.
Carl huffed, though Thranduil could tell it was all for show. "What's for breakfast?"
"Whatever I cook."
Carl groaned, clasping his head in his hands again. "Dear sweet merciful Lord. Have pity on my wretched soul."
Thranduil grinned openly at the man before him; Carl had clearly sampled Charlotte's cooking in the past.
Carl, lifting his head, caught his eye and gave Thranduil a wink. "I see you've had the misfortune of experiencing Charlotte's…cooking, as well."
"I'm right here, you know," Charlotte stated, her tone slightly annoyed now.
Just then a shrill ping sounded from the general direction of Carl, and the man shifted and grunted as he dug in his pockets for his cellphone. Carl squinted at the screen and then fished for his glasses in the confines of his shirt pocket, perching it onto his red-hued nose as he read the message.
"Well, the good news is that Eric is behaving and didn't leave his house last night."
"You have surveillance on him?" Charlotte asked, sitting up straighter, her features suddenly alert.
"Of course. You didn't think I would get blindingly drunk without ensuring that Eric was being taken care of?"
"Um…yeah. It's something I wouldn't put past you."
Carl waggled a sausage-like finger at her. "Ye of little faith. I'll have you know that I have always taken your safety very seriously, Charlotte dear."
Charlotte gave him a small smile. "Yes, that you have."
"Now, that being said, I need to take my safety seriously and I insist that you vacate the kitchen and do not attempt to cook anything!"
Charlotte's smile quickly turned to that of a scowl, which only made Carl chuckle. Thranduil was finding himself hard-pressed not to burst into laughter, either. Charlotte was absolutely adorable when she was angry, and hardly conjured any fear into the person at whom her ire was directed at.
Carl rose from his chair and as he passed Charlotte, he ruffled her hair, making it more of a mess than it already was, and ambled over to the fridge.
"What would your royal highness like?" Carl called out.
"Depends…can I trust your culinary skills?"
"If you can survive Charlotte's cooking, then you'll most definitely survive mine," Carl stated as he straightened, carton of eggs clutched in his grasp.
Charlotte stood, sighing with exasperation. "I think I'll go and get changed."
Carl's grin widened. "Aww, leaving already?"
"Yeah, I'm kinda getting tired of being mad fun of."
"Hmm, I think I should tell Thrandy boy here some of your childhood exploits!"
"Carl, don't you dare!" she warned.
Thranduil leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of him and a mischievous glint in his eye. This was most certainly going to prove entertaining.
Carl held up his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, fine. I will not recount embarrassing tales of your youth."
Charlotte narrowed her eyes, and Thranduil didn't need to be an elf to tell that the man was clearly lying and had every intent of doing the opposite of what he promised not to do.
Charlotte glowered at Carl but decided it best to leave. As she exited the kitchen, she heard Carl give a hearty chuckle and exclaim, "The kitchen, and our digestive systems, are safe now, boy!"
ooOoo
Charlotte dressed in dark blue jeans and a cornflower blue long-sleeved top with a scoop neck. She had tamed her unruly hair into a braid and had applied a light shadow of makeup, making sure to forego the lipstick.
When she made her way back to the kitchen, the table was spread with platters of bacon, eggs, sausages and toast. Thranduil was seated, looking very much his regal and impeccable self, even though he was still wearing the clothes from yesterday. A crisp white napkin was spread over his lap as he cut his food into bite-sized pieces. Carl, on the other hand, had a sausage speared onto his fork, and Charlotte watched as he chomped down on one end, the grease drizzling down onto his beard.
Charlotte tilted her head to the side, clearly seeing why Thranduil had confused Carl for a dwarf.
"An' then there was a blood curdling scream, enough to make milk curdle, and in comes Sam running like the hounds of Hell were hot on his heels. The whole party went dead quiet, and then who should come in, but Charlotte butt naked, covered from head to toe in mud and growling like the swamp monster she was impersonating. Poor Sam. I don't think the kid ever recovered from that ordeal."
Charlotte groaned. "You're not telling that story again are you, Carl?" At least he hadn't bought out the photo albums…there were some pictures Charlotte really didn't want Thranduil to see.
Carl shrugged, unperturbed. "I have to. There's still the mystery of what happened to your clothes. They were never found, not even to this day."
"And why were you naked?" Thranduil asked. He was starting to think this was becoming a habit of Charlotte's.
Charlotte came to sit down next to him. "I was only six years old, so who knows what my reasoning was back then."
"I'll tell ya, though, I've never heard a boy squeal like a little girl the way Sam did."
"It couldn't have been too bad," Charlotte stated. "We dated briefly in middle school."
"Well," Carl said with all seriousness. "It certainly explains why he moved across the country and was never heard from again!"
Charlotte pulled a face at Carl, which only served to make him laugh harder. Thranduil found himself thoroughly enjoying the familiar and playful banter between the two, and he could not help but grin along as a lightness enveloped him like the warm, soothing rays of the sun.
After breakfast was finished, Carl leaned back in his chair, patting his ample belly in satisfaction. "Well, I'd best be off. There's a couple of things I need to take care of before I head back home." He became more serious as he looked pointedly at Charlotte. "Be on your guard, Charlotte. I'll have someone tailing Eric from now on, but you call me if anything happens. Understood?"
"Yes, Carl. And thank you for everything."
But Carl's attention was now turned to Thranduil. "And I expect you to look after my little girl. If not, there won't be enough pieces of you to send back to Middle Earth."
Thranduil kept his face carefully neutral in the face of this ludicrous threat - he could easily cut down the burly man with one strike. But he understood that Carl's deep concern stemmed from a protectiveness reserved for kin and loved ones, and as he peered at the human, he glimpsed all that in his features, and none of the threat that his words promised.
Thranduil inclined his head. "You have my word, Carl."
Carl gave a brusque nod and stood, a silent indication that he was now leaving. Charlotte and Thranduil rose in unison and Carl came to stand before the Elvenking, frowning slightly when he had to look up at the much taller being.
Carl thrust out his hand and Thranduil took it after a moment's hesitation; he had come to trust this human in such a short span of time, and he rather prided himself at being a good judge of character.
Thranduil barely had time to react when Carl pulled him into a 'manly' hug, and his eyes widened at the familiarity being shown towards him. Carl patted his back and pulled away.
"I'll see ya around, boy."
"I look forward to it…just as long as you bring some more of that drink next time," Thranduil replied smoothly, his crystalline blue eyes sparkling in anticipation.
Carl chuckled and turned to Charlotte. "I like this one."
"Me, too," Charlotte confirmed, shooting Thranduil a suggestive grin.
"I'll just bet you do," Carl mused, screwing his face into that of mild disgust. Then he dragged Charlotte into a bone-crunching embrace. "Be safe, my girl," he said more softly before pulling away and grabbing his backpack from the counter.
Thranduil watched with a sensation of heaviness as Charlotte walked with Carl to the front door to see him off. He couldn't quite name the eerie sensation that befell him, but he sensed that this would be the last time he would see Carl, a man whom he had grown quite fond of regardless of the fact that he was more akin to dwarf than man.
Maybe race should not dictate with whom he should be friends with…
Thranduil blinked. Where had that thought come from? He had to admit that it unsettled him, for there was a weighty truth to it. Maybe his time here was aiding with a certain form of self-reflection, for a mere few weeks ago he would never have entertained the idea of forming a relationship with a human. But here he was, having freely given his heart to Charlotte. And now he had formed a solid friendship with a man who could easily pass for a dwarf. Was this what Galadriel intended? Would this be the expectation of him when he returned to Middle Earth? The image of Dain came to mind and he shuddered at the thought. Okay, maybe not friendship, but rather tolerance…
"You seem lost in thought," Charlotte said from the archway, causing Thranduil to break from his inner musings, and he turned his attention towards her. Charlotte was leaning her shoulder against the wall, her arms crossed as she studied him. She must have seen something in his face, for she came over and clasped his hands in her own. "What's wrong?"
Thranduil blinked once. "I fear I might be going soft in my old age."
Charlotte quirked a smile. "That's not such a bad thing, but I don't think you're going soft. I think that underneath that frosty exterior there has always been a softer and more caring side that you've had to repress."
Thranduil stared down his nose at her, his features hard like alabaster. Then he sighed in defeat. "Soft-heartedness is a luxury I can ill afford, especially in my position as ruler of my kingdom."
Charlotte cupped his face between her palms, her skin smooth and soft; her gentle touch conveying love and tenderness.
"You can be yourself here, Thranduil. With me."
As he stared down at her, Thranduil realised that he truly could be himself with his little spider. There were no restrictions or barriers in this world. Here, with her, and he could love her openly and honestly without fear or consequence. Would he revert back to who he used to be when he returned to Middle Earth? Gazing into those warm hazel depths, Thranduil knew that he would strive to remain the ellon Charlotte had fallen in love with, though Charlotte had a knack of bringing out this side of him. And he loved her for it.
Thranduil placed a hand on the small of her back and drew her closer to him, his other hand cupping the back of her head. He lowered his head, his hair falling over his shoulders to frame his features in a silvery gossamer curtain. He brushed his nose against hers and he closed his eyes at the intensity of the moment overwhelmed him.
"Gi melin (I love you), Charlotte," he breathed out in a hushed vow, his words fluttering against her slightly parted lips. He opened his eyes slowly, letting the truth show plainly on his features.
Charlotte blinked, comprehending that he was telling her something important. This moment was monumental, seeded with a truth that was almost too painful to bear witness to, though she had no idea what it was exactly.
"What does that mean?" she whispered.
"One day I will tell you, meleth nîn (my love)." Thranduil cupped her face between his hands, his touch gentle and intimate.
His lips brushed against hers in a featherlight motion, and Charlotte felt her body start to tremble with the flood of emotions that such a small act could ignite. Thranduil angled her head and deepened the kiss, taking his time as he savoured and tasted her, ingraining this moment forever to memory. Charlotte melted into the kiss, her body becoming plaint beneath his experienced hands, and she rose on tippy-toes, weaving her fingers through his hair as she returned the kiss with an equal fervor. As the kiss intensified, Thranduil felt it – Charlotte was pouring her love into this moment just as much as he was.
This moment of clarity stole his breath and Thranduil pulled back to stare down at her with wonder. She made him feel so much and with such intensity. Charlotte was showing him how to live and breathe again. She was giving meaning to his life.
"Say you'll be mine," he whispered.
"I already am," she whispered back, her voice slightly shaky.
Her words echoed into the deepest recesses of his being. She was burning down his every defence, and he relished and welcomed it. His words from not too long ago echoed back to him: I fear that your fire will consume me and burn me to ashes, Charlotte, and there is little I can do to stop it.
He was starting to realise how poetically true those words were.
A/N: Please review, fave and follow :)