The elves gazed at her with uncertainty as she swept into the great hall with Haedirn and Maethor. At least, this time, it wasn't overall outright fear and suspicion. She could tell who amongst them had been stationed in the northern borders, not only by their bandages but by the delicate white blossoms they had pinned to their tunics or woven into their braids. There were still frosty glares from others, and a few elves leaned back on the benches as if mere proximity to her would curse them.
She forced herself to breathe normally, chuck her chin up, and glide to the high table where a visibly relieved Legolas waited for her. He sat in his adar's usual seat, though the high back chair dwarfed him. She was surprised Cúthon hadn't seized it for his own, but the ellon had stolen the seat beside Legolas, and Lothuial had settled on the elfling's other side. Eithoril stood behind her mistress, with her back against the wall, and she gave Charlotte a curt nod as Charlotte arranged herself in the seat next to Lothuial. The blonde elleth would be the easiest to divert from Legolas, and Lothuial instantly proved her theory correct.
"Lady Charlotte," the elleth greeted, though she remained seated and studying the hall. "I am surprised you have decided to join us this evening."
"Yes," Cúthon added, leaning around Legolas to catch her gaze, "I had heard you have been taking your meals in the kitchens."
"How dreadful," Lothuial said and gave a faux shiver.
"Not at all," Charlotte's grin was sharp. "I find the company pleasurable there."
"It's quite fortunate you have joined us this evening," Cúthon said as if she hadn't spoken. "It saves me the trouble of summoning you. With the king gone and so many of our warriors with him, it falls to those remaining to ensure the smooth running of the kingdom. Every elf has been assigned to an essential task; we must all do our part, after all. I'm sure you understand."
"And where have I been assigned?" She asked, raising a brow.
"The stables will benefit from your assistance. With so many of our horsemen gone, hands are few there. You are to report before dawn tomorrow."
She heard the shifting movement behind and quickly turned her gaze on Maethor, shaking her head. His eyes were narrowed in rage, and his fists had clenched at his sides as if trying to prevent himself from reaching for his dagger. Haedirn was half a step behind him. She offered a gentle smile for her faithful friends and then said to Cúthon, "Of course. We must all pitch in. Will Lady Lothuial be joining me?"
The lady in question delicately snorted into her wine. "Absolutely not!" She said harshly, and then forcibly softening her tone at her adar's glare, she added, "I'll be assisting in the library. Golodhon has his hands full with all the tutoring he has been required to do as of late."
Charlotte felt her blood run cold. Did they know? Lothuial smirked at her, and Charlotte fought the urge to look to Maethor and Haedirn. "How fortunate," Charlotte mocked, "that he will have someone so… well-read… to assist him."
"We'd considered you for the task," Lothuial said insincerely, "but with your… issue… well, obviously, you would have been of very little use again."
Bitch. Charlotte took an unladylike gulp of her wine and thunked it on the table. A million retorts edged their way onto her tongue, but just as she was about to crack and tell that scheming harlot where she could shove her consideration—
Eithoril stepped forward, her hands clutching a silver pitcher of wine as if to refill Lothuial's goblet, but she lurched, legs tangled. She pitched forward, the wine soaring into the air, and her hands scrambled to catch herself, sweeping across the table and knocking Legolas's plate and goblet to the floor.
The wine landed directly on Lothuial, staining the side of her white gown pink and soaking the side of her hair and face. Charlotte snorted and threw a hand over her mouth to cover her grin.
Lothuial held her hands out, her mouth wide in shock as a flush worked its way up her neck. And then she screamed. "Urh! This was new. The design took weeks! I cannot believe—"
"Are you alright?" Legolas's tiny voice asked, interrupting her tirade. Lothuial froze as if realizing she had witnesses, and she pasted on a gracious smile. It quickly fell when she saw Legolas crouched beside a tear-stained Eithoril, his small hand gently patting her shoulder in a there-there motion.
"If you'll excuse me," Lothuial ground out. Her dress stuck to her as she stomped from the hall.
"My apologies, Your Highness," Eithoril cried, her head dipped low before Legolas. "I do not know what happened. I must have tripped in my skirts."
"Do be more careful in the future," Cúthon hissed. He frowned, tugging harshly on his sleeve, and waved his other hand. "You are dismissed, Eithoril. See to your mistress."
Eithoril squeezed Legolas's hand and murmured a soft "thank you." As she passed by Charlotte, her eyes widened, fear vibrant in her gaze. The moment passed quickly, and Charlotte couldn't help but study the elleth in concern as she fled from the hall.
"Now," Cúthon smacked his hand on the tabletop in a congenial way and summoned one of the servers floating behind the high table. "Fetch His Highness more wine," he ordered.
"No!" Legolas said, a bit too loudly. "Thank you, but I think I will retire for the evening. Good night." He swept from the hall, waving gently to those who caught his gaze, and Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief when he turned the corner and vanished from Cúthon's calculating gaze.
"I think I've had enough excitement for the evening, as well," Charlotte said primly before Cúthon could trap her in conversation once more. Now that Legolas wasn't alone with the wolves, she could abandon the forced attempt she'd made at eating. She crossed her silverware on top of her half-finished meal. She couldn't even remember what she'd eaten, only that she'd needed an excuse to be there to support Legolas, and she wasn't breaking into the archives on an empty stomach.
She kept her feet steady as she exited the hall, but once she was out of sight, she ran. Where had he gone? She darted into the throne room, intending on using the hidden stairs, but lurched and froze when she saw Legolas standing before his adar's throne. His shoulders were shaking.
"Little leaf?" She called.
His arm swiped across his face before he turned to her with puffy eyes and a forced smile. Charlotte's lips twisted, her brows furrowing in concern as she slowly crossed the bridge to kneel on the stone in front of him. "I miss him too," she whispered.
"He's coming back, right?"
His shoulders drooped, and his entire body appeared to deflate as his pleading eyes watched her. The truth was Thranduil was facing impossible odds, even for an elf of his age and ability. None of that would help Legolas. Lying to him though… She had vowed to him long ago that she wouldn't make promises to him she couldn't keep. "I know," she finally said, tucking his long hair over his shoulder, "that your adar will fight fiercely to return to you."
Legolas nodded and wiped his arm across his eyes. His chin wobbled as he said, "I don't want to go to my chambers."
She understood that. With Thranduil gone, it would be empty aside from the elfling. At least she had Maethor and Haedirn in the adjacent rooms. "Well," she said, thinking quickly, "would you like to visit Berior with me?"
Her lungs echoed the relief on his face.
Hours later, after an exhausted Legolas had been safely tucked into his bed, Charlotte, Maethor, and Haedirn slipped into the massive library. They had arrived later than she would have preferred, but she had difficulties ushering a visibly exhausted Legolas to bed. Each time she gazed at his sad eyes, she felt herself wrap tighter around his littlest finger. Thranduil would've had him in bed on time, but if Thranduil was there, then Legolas wouldn't be so heartbroken and afraid to sleep alone in the royal wing. If he was still having trouble sleeping the next night, she would insist he go to bed on time.
By the time she had changed into a midnight blue gown, regretting that she hadn't commandeered one of Thranduil's tunics, and met with Haedirn and Maethor, half the night had slipped away. Her guards had wanted to lend her another tunic, but she declined because time was already so short. They looked much more "burglar chic," with charcoal grey cloaks.
"Where do we start?" Haedirn whispered as he carefully pushed the library door closed, blocking off the scant light the corridor offered. They couldn't afford lamplight, so they were forced to search by the dimmed light of their fëar.
"When I asked Golodhon about the archives," Charlotte said, "he glanced up there." Her feet were soft as she rushed across the cavernous room to one of the many staircases that lined the wall. The lack of railings had ceased to bother her, having lived in Eryn Galen long enough that traversing over great heights without guardrails had become a daily occurrence.
"There's nothing up here though?" Haedirn said. He ran his fingers along the leather spines and thick scrolls. "This is just lore and history."
"Remember the passageway behind the throne?" Charlotte asked as she pushed and tugged on the shelves, running her hands along the blank walls of stone between them.
Maethor's eyes lit up. "You think they have a passageway here."
Charlotte nodded and moved to the next shelf. "Let's split up. I know," she said, catching their stubborn gaze. "We won't be that far apart. I'll be safe."
At first, they stuck to the shelves closest to her, but eventually, and after multiple raised brows on her end, they wandered off to check the other walls and shelves on the second level. Charlotte pulled and shoved on books, shelves, stones, whatever could possibly be hiding an entrance, but found nothing. Where was it? She was sure Cúthon had glanced to this section of the library.
A hand dropped on her shoulder, and she jumped, clapping her fingers over her mouth to muffle the sound of her squeak.
"Shh," Maethor pressed a finger to his lips. "We've searched. There's nothing here. Let's try the next level."
Charlotte felt her stomach sinking even as they rose higher into the library. If they couldn't find it, they would have to come back the next night. But that was another day of not knowing who was giving orders under Thranduil's identity. If she was wrong, and the entrance to the archives wasn't hidden in the library, they would lose two nights of searching.
Her gown stirred around her ankles and nearly tripped her. Thankfully, Maethor surged forward to steady her before she could topple over the side. "Are you alright?" he whispered. She squeezed his arm in thanks and nodded, though she kept ahold of his hand as she continued up the stairs.
At the top, they split up again, racing against the rising sun. Cúthon had been clear about her required time in the stables and would undoubtedly check to see if she arrived on time. Her fingers grew frantic as the minutes slipped away, and quick glances at Maethor and Haedirn showed them darting along the shelves and flicking their eyes toward the door. Haedirn was still on the far side of the library, but Maethor had worked his way around until he was only a few shelves from her.
Suddenly, Maethor froze, his eyes wide, before he flew to her side and pushed her to the floor, pressing them both against the base of the shelf and whipping his cloak over them. He pressed his finger to her mouth to silence her questions, and his body tensed against hers. "Fëa," he whispered.
She'd never had to shield her fëa on purpose before, let alone in a hurry. Still, she managed to reverse her usual process, descending into her center and dragging her light with her until her skin was pale and empty. She hadn't realized she'd never been not glowing since her arrival, hadn't realized the way all the elves were slightly glowing with the light of their fëar beneath their skin. She frowned at the empty feeling that filled her staring at her lifeless skin.
Maethor, always in tune with her, must've noticed. He squeezed her fingers with his own calloused ones. His touch seemed to say, "Soon."
There was complete silence for a moment as if even the library was holding its breath, and Charlotte could only see the shelves and ceiling through the sliver of space that wasn't covered by Maethor's cloak.
There was a slow groan as the library door opened, and her eyes widened in fear. If they were caught here in the middle of the night… Cúthon was looking for any excuse to be rid of her. She held her breath, praying to the Valar that they weren't found.
"I know you are in here," a voice called from the ground floor.
She knew that satisfied, conceited voice. Charlotte sagged against the shelf in defeat, but Maethor gently shook his head, so she remained on the floor. She hoped Haedirn was safely out of sight as well.
"Come out now," Lothuial called, "and Adar will be lenient."
A flash of burnished lamplight zigged across the shelf above her head. Lothuial had climbed the opposite stairs, the ones they had come up themselves, and circled the second level. Charlotte tensed as the light flashed over her head once more, and Maethor tightened his grip and pressed them firmly against the shelf. The familiar pine and apple scent invaded her nose, soothing and reassuring.
The light hovered, Charlotte and Maethor scarcely daring to breathe, and then Lothuial growled in frustration and stomped down the stairs.
Charlotte nearly moaned with relief when the library door closed. She shifted, but Maethor shook his head. His eyes were closed as he listened, and after a few minutes of laying uncomfortably still on the floor, he finally pulled away. "She has left now," he whispered.
Haedirn stormed over with a scowl. "I was pinched between the shelves, and she decided to wait outside the doors just in case."
"We need to get out of here," Charlotte said, rushing them both toward the stairs, "before she changes her mind and comes back."
Maethor had to grab her again as she flew down the stairs, her skirts twisting in her ankles as she rushed. "Easy," he whispered, "I can hear all the way down the hall; no one is near. If you fall, we'll have to take you to the healing wing, and Cúthon will start asking questions."
"Lothuial was here," Charlotte argued, though she pulled her skirt higher so it wouldn't tangle. "It's safe to say, Cúthon is already asking questions."
Once they'd slipped undetected from the library, a quick glance out the nearest window had them booking it to the stables. Charlotte was starving, but there was no time for any of them to stop in the kitchens for breakfast, and neither Maethor nor Haedirn were willing to leave her side, even to feed her.
The air was frigid as they stepped on the training field, and high above the bowl, the sky was a dull muted grey. She hoped it wouldn't snow. Fighting in the cold was one thing. Fighting in the snow? She shook her head.
Across the field, ellyn were already buzzing around the stable, and Charlotte rushed inside and prayed that Cúthon hadn't checked on her yet. She knew he would, especially after Lothuial had failed to uncover them in the library.
But Haedirn had a plan for that too. "I already spoke to Dínalagos while you put Legolas to bed," Haedirn explained. "He's in command of the stables since Rocher went with Thranduil. He's left bags of oats near Berior's stall. All we have to do is feed Berior's row."
Between the three of them, they had the horses fed, and Charlotte was feeding the last one and watching the door when Cúthon arrived. His eyes narrowed on her, but he shouted for Dínalagos.
"My lord?" Dínalagos bowed with a raised brow. "I was not expecting you here this morning. How can I be of service?"
"It is I who can be of service to you," Cúthon said. "I came to ask how your new assistants are doing. Do you require more hands?"
Dínalagos made a show of rubbing his cheek and said, "I could always use more hands, but we're well manned here otherwise. Lady Charlotte has been an unexpected boon, my lord. She's already fed the horses."
Not technically a lie; she had fed the horses, just not all of them and not without help. Still, she smirked as she poured oats for the final horse. Most of the stalls were empty since their occupants had gone north with the host. In reality, they probably didn't need any help in the stables with the way she'd seen the ellyn working throughout the morning. They had a finely honed system, and she was an extra cog.
"Excellent," Cúthon said, though she could see the displeasure in the twist of his mouth. "I won't hold you any longer. The stalls need to be thoroughly cleaned, and I would hate to delay Lady Charlotte from her work.
"Trust me, my lord," Dínalagos said, his chest puffed and a frown marring his otherwise soft features, "I am well trained to see to the needs of the stable and its staff."
"Yes, of course," Cúthon simpered. His oily smile made her want to gag. He'd seemed to only just notice that he'd insulted his stablemaster in his quest to torture her. Charlotte scoffed. As if she were afraid of cleaning up after some horses! It would be hard work, but hardly the torture he thought it would be for her. "Good day then," he said as he spun on his heel and fled, nearly knocking over a petite elleth on his way out.
Dínalagos rolled his eyes toward the stone ceiling and shook his head. He turned to Charlotte and said, "The stalls were cleaned yesterday after the warriors left. There are not many horses left here at the moment, but the few here are already prepped for the day, and we'll put them out after their breakfast. Since their riders are all here, there's really nothing else I can give you to do this morning. Your elk sees to his own needs and comes and goes as he pleases. If you want to nap in his stall, that bloated spider won't hear it from me." And then he was off without waiting for an answer.
Charlotte frowned. "I could've cleaned the stalls for the horses still here," she said to Maethor and Haedirn.
Haedirn chuckled, "Why would you want to?"
"To help?" She crossed her arms and huffed. Sure it would have taken her longer than the stable hands, but she could've gotten it done, and it wasn't like she had anything else to contribute. She couldn't go into the forest, couldn't practice healing the enchanted elves, and couldn't search the library during the day.
Maethor smiled softly at her as if he were studying an angry kitten instead of a disgruntled elleth. "I know you do not like it, but you are a titled lady, an emissary from the Valar, and it is a great sign of disrespect that Cúthon has assigned you to work in the stables. Consider it this way: if Lady Celebrian were to stay months will us, would you consider it insulting to force her to work in the stables during her visit?"
"Yes," Charlotte sighed, "but Celebrian would be visiting. I am not."
"So you're staying then?" Haedirn asked, and something fervent blossomed in his eyes. "Forever?"
Maethor shot him a glare.
Would she stay in the Greenwood forever? What if Thranduil did not return? Legolas would still be in the Greenwood, but with Cúthon in charge, it wouldn't be long before he separated them. It's not like she could ask Legolas to run away from Eryn Galen with her. Where would they go? And what about Thranduil's people? Legolas's people?
"I hope so," she settled on saying. She couldn't do anything if Cúthon booted her from the realm.
She suddenly saw the life she had ahead of her if Thranduil didn't return. Despised or distrusted by a good portion of the Greenwood elves, with Cúthon in charge of her fate and Legolas's, they'd be separated, with her forced to work in whatever jobs Cúthon considered demeaning for her station, and Legolas would grow further and further away. Her little leaf hijacked by his awful advisor.
Thranduil swore Cúthon would do what he thought was best for the people of Eryn Galen, but the advisor had long ago decided that Charlotte did not meet that requirement. She would spend her days carefully tiptoeing around him, trying to be flawless because he would be eagerly waiting for her to slip up.
"It won't come to that," a voice said.
Charlotte shook her head and glanced up. She hadn't realized she'd been staring absently into the bag of oats. The tiny elleth before her pulled back the hood of her green cloak, and Charlotte was caught in her Sídher's owl-like eyes.
"Won't come to what?" Charlotte asked, feeling as if she had somehow unknowingly projected her fears to the elleth.
Sídher turned her lips up slightly, studying her for a moment, before she dreamily said, "Eating the oats. Idhrenes has sent breakfast for all of you since you weren't in the kitchen this morning. She is quite displeased with the spiders, but their webs will catch them soon." She shrugged, and pulling her cloak aside, revealed a woven basket which she extended to Charlotte. "I've added oatcakes for your elk. I remember they are his favorite."
"Oh." The basket felt heavy in her hands. "Thank you," Charlotte said. "Would you like to join us?"
"I've already eaten," Sídher said. "An old habit of rising early in the morning for training. I find it is still preferable to eat before working in the kitchens. It makes me dreadfully grumpy to be hungry and surrounded by delicious food I cannot have yet. I should return to assist with the afternoon meal anyway." She dipped her head at the three of them and floated out of the stables.
When her cloak had, at last, fluttered out of sight, Charlotte blinked as if waking from a strange dream. She turned to Maethor and Haedirn and found them facing the same predicament.
"Breakfast, anyone?" Charlotte lifted the basket for her guards to see.
Which is how they ended up curled in Berior's stall with one of Idhrene's feasts spread out on a blanket between them. True to Sídher's words, Berior's eyes lit up upon spotting the plate of oatcakes, though Charlotte limited him to two. He frowned at her with narrowed eyes as he happily gobbled the treats.
"Don't look at me like that," she chastised gently. "I don't even know if you can safely eat these, and yet I'm letting you have them anyway."
Haedirn shrugged and said, "They're made of oats." He shoved a hunk of bread in his mouth whole, and his cheeks puffed.
"What about everything else in them though?"
"Guess we'll find out soon enough."
"Haedirn!"
"What?" He teased. "I doubt two will kill him, and he seems too stubborn to stay dead if they did."
Berior was suddenly wheezing, and Charlotte turned, her panicked eyes searching him uselessly while her hands fluttered down his withers. "Oh, no! I never should have given them to him!" She cried. The elk bumped his nose to her forehead, his eyes glittering at her before he took an obvious deep breath in and exhaled across her face.
Haedirn chuckled. "See, he's fine. Now, sit and eat with us before it gets cold."
"Thought that was funny, did you?" She asked the elk. "Well, the jokes on you. No more oatcakes today, and from now on, you only get one at a time. I won't have you choking on treats."
Berior groaned and stomped his foot, reminding her of a petulant elfling.
"Now that's just cruel," Haedirn said.
"Shush, you." Charlotte winked. "We need to eat and sleep so we can try again tonight."
They descended into a comfortable silence, enjoying the quiet breakfast before Charlotte left them to finish while she curled up on Berior's side for a nap. She was tired enough that the straw didn't bother her, and she rarely woke. When she did, either Haedirn or Maethor were snuggled against her side, sharing their cloak, while the other kept watch.
Posting today, because I'm booked for the next two days. The next chapter should be posted on Wednesday. Also: due to some mislabeling (I accidentally titled two chapters in my original document with the same number) there are actually 54 total chapters, not 53. :) Thank you for reading and for your lovely reviews!