The gleam of gold armor was blinding in the morning sun. Charlotte stood just over the bridge, her slippers digging into the grass as she curled her toes to keep herself rooted. Thranduil was already astride Belegroch, his smooth voice rolling over the crowd of assembled elves as he spoke of defending the realm and the bravery of the Woodland soldiers.
Her brain was struggling to comprehend it all.
Maethor and Haedirn flanked her as usual, though Legolas had squeezed himself between her and Haedirn. Idhrenes had even surfaced from the kitchen, dressed impeccably in a thick emerald gown with her hair braided in a coronet. The elleth had placed herself beside Charlotte immediately, subtly reaching out to hold her hand in support.
Charlotte was grateful for it, especially when Meluieth appeared. Her friend looked thinner, and dark bruises had formed beneath her eyes. Meluieth hesitated upon spotting her, her brows tangling as she chewed her bottom lip. But the elleth dropped her gaze to her feet and buried herself in the crowd.
Charlotte forced her body to numb as the Elven warriors rotated on their heels to create a corridor for Thranduil and Belegroch. This would be her final glimpse of him, his branching crown balanced atop his long blond hair, his elegant charcoal cloak draping his back and broad shoulders. He would vanish into the sea of gold to lead the host into the north. If they were lucky, he would survive the crush of death that awaited him there.
But he'd had to restructure his army, leaving behind enough warriors to defend the caverns from their southern threats. They'd both decided that Mairon would undoubtedly survive the wound she inflicted on him in the dreamscape, and the spiders had been suspiciously silent as of late. War brewed in the mountains above and below, and they had received no communications from either of their allies.
They were on their own.
Charlotte was used to that, but this time… This time Thranduil's life was on the line, as were the lives of his people.
Belegroch turned toward the waiting gap, and Thranduil caught her eyes for a brief moment. Her foot surged forward of its own will.
Idhrenes tightened her grip. "Don't," she whispered. "They are looking to you now."
Sure enough, Charlotte caught the eyes darting toward her from the elves in the assembled crowd. Thranduil had warned her they would be watched. Morale was critical. If his host felt they were marching toward their deaths, then they would be.
Charlotte forced a deep breath into her lungs and straightened her neck.
"That's it," Idhrenes praised. "Almost through it now."
Charlotte and Thranduil had shared their goodbyes before waking Legolas and then forced a mask of calm for him as well. Now the best she could do was whisper to Thranduil across the distance, leaping her thoughts from her soul to his.
"Gi melin. Nínion ned i vened lîn." She sent to him.
His eyes softened. "Do not weep. I vow I will return to you, whether it is here or across the sea. Our story is yet unfinished, meleth nîn."
Legolas clenched her arm tightly as Thranduil turned, slowly parading through the troops. She felt the elfling shudder against her side as the first row pivoted. The warriors rotated as Thranduil passed, and Charlotte stood frozen as she watched him vanish beyond the lines of gold.
The crowd trickled away. The lines of soldiers rippled. Her little makeshift family stood by her side as Thranduil led the warriors west to the river crossing.
"Come, Legolas," she whispered through numb lips when the final row of warriors began the march through the trees. Her body felt strangely empty. Robotically, she offered her hand to Legolas, pasting on a smile for him. "Your adar said you do not have lessons until this afternoon. That leaves us plenty of time to bake."
Her little leaf nodded, but she could tell he felt just as bereft as she did.
"It's all going to be okay," she said.
Her stomach twisted, and she fought against the dark feeling that she had just told her first major lie to him.
Golodhon was late. Charlotte had managed to walk Legolas to the archery fields, feed an apple to a grumbling Berior, and return to the library all before her appointment time with Legolas's tutor. And that had passed nearly twenty minutes ago.
As time had slowly ticked on, Charlotte had grown bored, and rather than let her mind wander through the possibilities of Thranduil's departure, she flipped open the registries once more and set her mind to studying the characters that comprised the Elven alphabet, enjoying the feeling of dry paper beneath her fingertips as she traced line after line of lettering. She wondered what history this particular text covered and was about to ask Maethor or Haedirn for the answer when the door opened and Golodhon appeared.
The ellon strolled casually past her visibly irate guards, not a single sign of remorse in his smug expression, but Charlotte was much too excited at the prospect of finally having answers to be anything other than grateful and courteous. So despite his displeased frown, she offered him a warm smile and stood to greet him.
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me," she said. "I truly appreciate your assistance."
"The king did not afford me much choice," Golodhon sniffed. He straightened his cuffs and raised a brow at her. "How can I be of service?"
Her smile tightened. "I was hoping for a bit of a history lesson. Particularly regarding a few of the Valar: Nienna and Varda specifically."
"I can direct you to a few texts here," he offered. His eyes roamed the shelves.
"I have already attempted to do so, but I cannot read Tengwar yet."
"It is the written language of the elves."
Charlotte bit her tongue hard. She needed him, and the bastard knew it. "Legolas has told me a little about them already," she said, driving the conversation back. "However, I was wondering if there was a connection between those two particular Valar, aside from the obvious."
"You will have to clarify what you consider 'obvious,'" He straightened his sleeves again and pursued his lips. "Elflings are given a thorough history on each of the Valar, after all."
"Do they or do they not have any particular historical connections?"
"Of course they do," he huffed.
"Then perhaps you can join me and elucidate the topic? I'm sure the king has selected you for this task for a reason?" Her gaze was hard. He'd chosen the wrong day to be rude to her. She already felt numb; it wasn't hard to turn that numbness into rock-solid ice.
Remorse and pleasure warred within her as he begrudgingly took the seat across the table. "Who has foolishly directed you to these?" He waved his hand dismissively at the record books still stacked on the table from her last excursion. She blushed hotly. "They are useless for such a subject."
"Legolas was kind enough to show me my name in the registry," she said instead. "Which is how we came to our discussion regarding Nienna and Varda."
"This is not the book of Begetting records," he said, pulling the text around so it faced him. "These are deaths. Particularly during the three years preceding the War of the Last Alliance." He raised his brow, though his mouth turned down, and his eyes grew distant and sad as he traced a line midway down the page. "It was a cold day in Eryn Galen when Queen Renieth was taken from us. The very trees wept, and the stars dimmed."
"She is in there?"
"Of course she is."
"Thranduil had mentioned her death, but I had assumed it was closer to the war," she explained.
Golodhon shook his head, "She was murdered by orcs in the southern woods shortly after the host arrived in Imladris. King Thranduil has refused to visit her favored grove since. It has been tainted by the blood spilled there. Now she is but a line in a death registry, unlooked upon save by the illiterate." The book closed with a snap, and he shoved it aside.
Charlotte bit her tongue and took a deep breath through her nose. "Nienna and Varda?" She prompted again.
He sighed at her persistence. "Since I do not wish to assume you possess any knowledge on the subject, I will begin with the basics. Nienna and Varda are two of the Valar Queens."
"Yes, Varda is associated with the stars and Nienna with grief and courage."
Golodhon raised a brow at her interruption. "Lady Nienna is also associated with mourning and pity. One of her greatest works was her assistance in creating the Two Trees of Valinor: Telperion and Laurelin. She watered the mound with her tears, even as Yavanna sang power into the earth."
"And what about Varda?"
He huffed at her. "In Sindarin, she is known as Elbereth Gilthoniel, and she created the stars, sun, and moon, the last two with assistance, of course. After Melkor and the Ungoliant destroyed the Two Trees —"
"The Ungoliant?"
"A spirit of great evil, which took the form of an enormous spider."
"Like the ones in the forest?"
Golodhon frowned and shook his head. "I have not seen these creatures myself, but I do not believe it to be the same creature, though perhaps they are descendants. I will suggest as much to the king upon his return, though he likely has already considered such a connection. It is well known that she fled to Ered Gorgoroth after Melkor refused her the Silmarils and the Balrogs chased her with their fiery whips. There she bred, and her offspring wrought horror and death, though they were not as evil as their maker. It is believed that she continued to the far south or starved until she was forced to consume herself. Perhaps both," he shrugged.
Charlotte opened her mouth to ask him more, but he silenced her with a look. "Elbereth," he said, forcing them back onto the Valar, "created the moon with the last flower from silver Telperion and with golden Laurelin she forged the sun, each of them placed within the vessels fashioned by Aulë."
There had been no sun or moon in the darkness when she was pulled by Mandos into the abyss. Only stars, thousands of brilliant stars, and a hot burning beneath her skin. There was something, some connection, and she was missing the pieces to put them together. "Varda and Nienna never created anything together? Even something small or loosely connected?"
"No," Golodhon pursued his lips. He crossed his arms at her sigh.
She'd slammed into another dead end. Maybe it had been foolish to hope that figuring out her origin, the link between her and the two goddesses who summoned her, would have allowed her to figure out the necklace's power. She wasn't a stranger to stories of heroic odysseys and godly endowments, where the hero was blessed with a gift related to the god's affinity. She'd been an idiot to think that those stories might bear fruit here.
"Actually..." Golodhon bit his lip, debating.
"Yes?"
He narrowed his eyes and begrudgingly said, "There is a small connection. Very small."
Charlotte sat up, leaning over the table on her elbows.
"When Elbereth created the first stars for the awakening elves, she used dew from Telperion to do so."
"From Telperion?" Charlotte whispered. A grin stole over her features. "The same Telperion watered by the tears of Nienna." Finally! Finally, a connection!
"Yes, well," Golodhon cleared his throat. "While Nienna may have watered the mound that grew the trees, do not forget that the trees are largely considered Yavanna's work."
"And what is Yavanna responsible for?" Charlotte asked though she had a guess. It all fit: her strange affinity for the forest, an affinity only Thranduil was known to have, her power manifesting as flowers. Was her connection to Berior similar? He was far more personable than any of the other creatures she'd met in Middle Earth. Did her necklace do something when she first burst into this world? Thranduil had mentioned she'd discharged a power wave that attracted the orcs to her. Had Berior been pulled to her as well?
Golodhon's next words had her head spinning. "Yavanna is known as 'the Giver of Fruits;' all things that grow are under her domain."
Could this finally be it? The answers she had been searching for? Charlotte frowned, finding one giant hole in the possibility. "But you said Telperion was destroyed," she muttered. "There would be nothing left to create with."
"Not entirely accurate. Elbereth kept the first of her creations. How many? I'm unsure. But some of the exiled Noldor claim that she wears one in her circlet and many dangle about her wrist. Even her husband, Manwë, possesses one in his ring."
She eyed her necklace, studying the vibrant stone clutched within the silver antlers. "So it wouldn't be the first time Varda mounted a star into jewelry."
Golodhon's eyes widened, darting to her necklace. "You suspect that may be… Sweet Elbereth," he murmured. "All this time… within reach of one of her stars… may I?" He jerked his head toward the stone.
Charlotte hesitated. Golodhon had done little to earn her trust with his brusque attitude, and she worried at the covetous gaze in his eyes. Still, he'd given her answers, and she might need more.
She leaned forward, cupping the stone delicately in hand. "I never take it off, but you're welcome to study it briefly."
Golodhon's eyes flashed, his nostrils flared, but he settled for holding it in his hand as she arched uncomfortably over the tabletop. She forced her breathing to remain even as he greedily smoothed his fingers over the stone, closing his eyes and tightening his grip on the necklace.
He was silent for a moment, and then deep waves rolled across his forehead. His chest puffed and held, his brows furrowing, before he grumpily opened his lids and frowned. "I feel nothing. It does nothing." He humphed and dropped the necklace as if it were a cheap costume piece. "Whatever it is, Elbereth had no hand in it," he sniffed.
But she ignored him because she could feel it. She had remembered the heat surging beneath her skin, burning in her soul as each star had popped into existence during her brief time in limbo. She remembered the way they called to her. Like to like.
"You are like but unlike the others, and your fëa is of my making," Varda had said.
She felt like she would vomit. From happiness or shock, she wasn't sure. Thranduil had suggested that she was made Elf-kind using some sort of power catalyst, but a star? One of the first stars of this world?
Charlotte tilted her head. Stars seemed so powerful and vibrant, and she was just… well, her. Tired. Confused. Surviving. While she had performed "magic" before, it had always been through the necklace, never on her own. She nearly groaned. Golodhon had given her answers, but now she only had more questions.
If she went into the forest again, she could try to practice. She shoved that thought away quickly. Not only was Thranduil gone, but a large portion of the guard went with him. The forest wouldn't be safe for her. "Not that it was before," she muttered.
"What was that?"
Her head jerked up, and she was oddly surprised Golodhon was still there. She absolutely was not telling him about Mairon. The elves already thought she was a sorceress; any connection to Sauron would have them tossing her out to fend for herself in the forest, and that's if they didn't go for a more medieval approach. "I was considering the dangers of the forest, especially now."
"With the king in the north, the wardens are diminished," he said, echoing her thoughts. "I would discourage anyone from wandering the forest until his return."
"Trust me, I have no intentions of entering the forest alone," she said. "Even with the wardens, these creatures sneak through."
Golodhon flushed and rose in his seat, and Charlotte hurried to explain. "I do not doubt the strength and talent of the Woodland Guard. These beasts are wretched and dark, and it is not the wardens' fault they were ordered elsewhere. Though I wonder who gave such an order."
"Well, King Thranduil did, of course."
Charlotte shook her head and neatly stacked the texts she'd left out. She no longer required them, and Haedirn might help her relocate their proper homes. "I'm sure he is normally in charge of military movements, but he didn't order that."
"And yet the order has the king's seal," Golodhon said, leaning into his seat.
Her hands froze, the registry containing her rebirth information clutched within white-knuckled fingers. "What? That's impossible."
Golodhon bristled. "I assure you, it is not. I filed the order in the archives myself."
She accidentally slammed the book on top of the stack. "May I see the archives?"
"I'm afraid that is impossible," he said, though he sounded pleased at the rejection. His lips pinched against a smile. "That particular collection is restricted. Only the Elvenking may access the records there, and since he is not in residence…"
"What about Legolas?"
"I understand that you maintain a relationship with the young prince, but since he is not the Elvenking, it will not help you."
"Then who can?" She clenched her teeth.
"No one. Not even the king's advisor can enter the archives. Only the king."
Fat chance of Cúthon allowing her access anyway. "And apparently the archivist," she said.
"Well, naturally, the archivist would be required to maintain the records, but even I am not permitted to rummage through the history of a king's commands. I am only permitted to file the records and escort the King and Prince when requested. When Prince Legolas is older and is required to study military strategy and history, then the king will likely grant him and a selected tutor access to the records, but that is several years away."
Charlotte narrowed her eyes. If Thranduil had given that order… no, he wouldn't. He knew about the plan to use her as bait to lure the orcs, and he had brought Legolas along. There was no way he'd ever purposefully put Legolas in danger. Or her, really.
She needed to see that order.
"I imagine maintaining the records is a high honor," Charlotte said and secretly smiled as she saw the slight puff of pride in Golodhon's chest. "Do they include just military orders?"
"Orders, copies of important letters between the realms, contracts, histories, and so on." He smirked. "There is even a copy of the king's betrothal to Princess Nemir of Lindon."
She ignored him and said, "That sounds like an extensive collection."
His eyes darted to the upper levels. It lasted a split second, but she caught it. Got you, she thought.
"Indeed," he said. "The king honors me with such a monumental task."
"Indeed," she echoed, her mind already running through possibilities.
"If I have answered all of your questions to your liking, I have other tasks for which I am responsible," Golodhon said. He stood, not waiting for her to dismiss him, gave a curt bow, and swept from the room.
Charlotte didn't care. She was busy planning her break-in.
"An actual star?" Haedirn clutched the necklace in his fist. Charlotte had obviously trusted him enough to take it off first. "Elbereth's star?" He whistled, long and low, and held the necklace up against the bronze sunlight pouring through her window.
"Can we focus on the part where she wants to break into the Royal Archives?" Maethor said. He pinched the bridge of his nose and paced the length of her chamber.
Haedirn bounced in his spot at the end of her bed. "Well, that would be exciting, wouldn't it?"
"Exciting?" Maethor spun on him. "If she's caught—"
Haedirn winced and finally turned to study her. "He's right," he sighed. "If you're caught, your sentencing would be temporarily left to Cúthon."
None of them needed to extrapolate on what Cúthon would do to her.
"I'm in the library often enough that no one will think anything is different," Charlotte shrugged. "And of all the times I've been in there, no one else has entered save for Legolas."
"That might have more to do with our presence at the doors though, and Golodhon may be suspicious of you now," Maethor insisted.
"Maethor, that order nearly got us all killed, and it supposedly has Thranduil's seal on it." She shook her head. "I can't just let that slide. What if whoever is using Thranduil's seal is giving other orders that we're not aware of? It could cost us everything."
"We don't even know where the archives are!" Maethor tried.
"I might."
Maethor sighed and plopped into the chair he'd left by her window the night Mairon had pulled her fëa to Amon Lanc. In a mirror of that night, she had settled against the window, legs drawn to her chest and feet tucked beneath her gown's hem.
"Maethor, I won't drag you into this if you're uncomfortable," she said, and she meant it. He'd been far too kind to her; the both of them had really. She didn't want to force him into something that might cost him everything.
"I will be going with you." His tone was firm and final. "I decided long ago that I would follow whatever path you walked." He shared a brief look with Haedirn, who nodded and handed her the necklace.
"We'll go tonight," Haedirn said. "You'll need us to translate anyway."
"Tonight then," she agreed, trying to fight the sinking feeling in her stomach. "We should sleep now then, while we can, and you both deserve your time off."
"First, we must make an appearance at dinner," Maethor said. "With the king gone, Legolas will be required to attend every night in his stead, and I know you would prefer not to leave him at the mercy of Cúthon and Lothuial."
"You are correct," Charlotte shifted, adjusting her skirt. She was officially out of Thranduil's tunics since her two had been destroyed, and she'd never bothered to change out of the more formal gown she'd worn to see the warriors off. At least its layers gave it a shadow of warmth.
"Then we have at least the basics of a plan," Haedirn said. "We'll eat, sleep, and then break into the highly secretive Royal Archives and hope we don't end the night in the dungeons." His grin was bloodthirsty as he turned to Maethor and said, "Definitely made the right choice."
Maethor only smiled and rolled his eyes.
Translations:
Gi melin. Nínion ned i vened lîn. - I love you. I cry upon your leaving.
AN: I cannot believe I got two out this week! It feels like a miracle lately. Thank you all for your reviews and feedback!