It was immediately apparent that Charlotte was not in heaven. If she was, her head wouldn't have been throbbing, and she wouldn't have been fighting the urge to toss up the earlier meatloaf Betsy made.
She wasn't sure if she was upset about this. Nearly anything seemed preferable to waking up in a world that lacked the essential bright spot that was her mother. The idea of calling all of her mother's old friends was crushing. What was she supposed to say to the people who didn't stick around? They trickled out of her mother's life, and who could blame them? Now that she considered it, did she really need to call the people who had stepped away so easily? Probably. It would be "the right thing," and Charlotte couldn't imagine doing anything other than the socially correct action. She absently swatted a hair from her face and sighed.
She needed to get up, call Betsy, and face the first day of her new existence without the person who had been there every day of her life. Charlotte had no idea how she was going to manage that.
"Coffee," she groaned. That would fix her most pressing biological needs, at least. Her psychological ones would have to wait.
The instant she opened her eyes, however, she knew there would be no coffee in her morning. A baby blue sky with wispy clouds peered down at her, and a sweet earthy scent filled her nose. The hair rubbing against her face turned out to be long stalks of heather, golden under the afternoon sun. She stood and gasped. There was no civilization in sight.
A forest, thick and gloomy, pressed at her back, and an enormous grey mountain range tickled with pines erupted before her. In between the two was a lush field of heather with smudges of green and lilac bending under the breeze like thousands of thin little soldiers paying homage to the stone peaks.
Every part of her mind wanted to justify what she was seeing and turn it into something logical, but when she stepped forward, a sharp spike jammed into the sole of her foot. "Son of a-" Charlotte hissed, clenching her eyes shut and hobbling through the stinging pain. The necklace, the last gift from her mother, winked innocently up at her. The sunlight seemed to enhance it's unearthly glow as Charlotte scooped it up. "Well, that crosses 'dreaming' off the list then."
Not that it was genuinely an option; her senses were bombarded by the stimuli of the world around her. She could feel the heather against her skin, smell the damp soil beneath her feet, and knew that any amount of pinching herself would be futile. She was genuinely here, in this place she didn't recognize, when she should be safely in her overpriced small apartment.
Charlotte debated as she clasped the necklace around her neck. The teardrop stone settled neatly above the vee of her shirt, and the antlers spread cooly against her skin. It was a least one tether to her reality.
She could lay down and close her eyes and hope she woke up in her bed again, but that seemed silly. There would be coverage in the forest behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and studied the arching boughs, and the thick trunks tucked tightly together. The field provided no assurance of safety, but to Charlotte, it was preferable to the oppressive darkness after her earlier episode. No, she certainly didn't want to feel trapped and breathless so soon again.
Decision made, she plodded barefoot through the heather, following the graceful curves of the grassland toward the mountain ahead. Inevitably she'd stumble along someone. It wasn't like human beings hadn't been prolific over the years; she couldn't imagine there was more than a mile or two untouched by mankind.
Picking her way over the heather proved trickier than she expected. The land was riddled with boulders and deep clefts hidden by the tall grass. She had to follow the ravines running parallel to the mountains until she found an easier crossing point, but it seemed her feet were doomed to be pierced and sliced by the rocks and brambles regardless of her path.
As the afternoon wore on, and the sun beat down on her skin, Charlotte despaired. Her hunger was slowing her. Her last meal was the meatloaf the night before, and she hadn't finished much because of her mother's upset. She could hear trickling water but had yet to find it, and her throat felt dry and scratchy. Her feet were far past the point of rescue, and she found herself gingerly placing each step to minimize the sudden pressure on her swollen bloodied feet.
Just as she thought she should turn and begin the long trek to the forest to find shelter for the night or settle inside one of the ravines and hope for the best, she spotted dark hazy figures on horseback, picking their way along the treeline.
"Hello!" She shouted, waving her arms above her head.
The figure in front whipped it's head around and shouted something, a strange, guttural cry before it was charging at her. There was a ringing in her ears as they pulled their swords out, and the dark metal glinted in the sun, held aloft by deformed creatures with broad ears like bat's wings and rows of thin sharp teeth. What she had thought were horses were the most substantial wolves she'd ever seen, with narrow snouts and long canines that speared past their wet lips. The four of them were swallowing up the distance, flattening the heather under their bulk.
She had no hope, but she ran anyway. Her damaged feet pounded over the field, leaping her over chunks of forgotten grey stones and flinging her over the narrow ravines that pockmarked the earth. The mountain grew closer, the heather denser, and the sound of thundering water filled her with hope. She had a chance! She might actually survive!
A whooshing arrow sliced her arm before burying itself deep into the soft soil. A second one grazed her thigh, and the blood quickly soaked her sweatpants. The creatures were laughing and circling her on their furry mounts, twisting and herding her until she was pinned. Seeing the monsters up close was even worse: their skin was mottled and greasy, and huge lumps grew beneath their flesh. They reeked of iron and sweat and smell nearly made her gag. Another arrow scraped across her arm.
They were playing with her.
The nearest wolf leaped and nipped at her heels, and the creatures leered and grinned when she screamed and tried to run. They closed ranks, alternating between feinting as if to bite and growling as they stalked her. The single bowman launched one of his arm-length black arrows at her, intentionally nicking her arm, and then her leg, before grazing her ear when she saw a break between the wolves and ran for it. The pressed her back, spinning her away from the mountain. Charlotte realized she was being herded toward the trees and cried.
She'd never make it out again.
She wasn't going down without a fight, though, and wasn't it better to die quickly than go through whatever these beasts had planned? She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, preparing to fling herself at the nearest rider to try for his sword, but she didn't get the chance.
A shriek rent the air as a great moose stormed into the leader and scooped the wolf in its enormous antlers before flinging it away and stampeding over the bodies of both wolf and rider. The moose spun, charging down the other three wolves, who bucked and panicked under their passengers until the moose crashed through them and sent them scampering toward the forest while he thrashed at their heels with the sharp tines of his antlers.
The bowman was trying to aim behind him without losing his seat and might have killed Charlotte's rescuer had he been paying closer attention. His head slammed with a crunch into the first of the low-lying branches, sending his arrow wide and slicing deep through the outside of the moose's foreleg. Charlotte could see the moose stomping on what she assumed was the downed body.
She froze as her rescuer flicked his great head up and found her a short distance away. He limped closer, and she resolutely turned her gaze away from the gore that coated his legs.
She'd been calling him a moose, but perhaps that wasn't quite right, she thought, as she studied the approaching animal warily. It had just killed or attacked four of those… whatever they were. She was not entirely convinced she wouldn't be trampled as well. It was far more likely that this breed was territorial, and, rightly, saw those things as the more significant threat.
He appeared to be some variety of hybrid and was undoubtedly the most massive deer breed she'd ever heard of, for his body was distinctly elk-like, streamlined with glossy fur so grey it was nearly a pale silver. Just one of his moose-like antlers, each with a broad flat paddle and gracefully arching tines, seemed big enough to carry her laying down. His own eyes, thick bands of silver around a bottomless pupil, appeared to study her in return. She couldn't help but feel as if he found her lacking somehow.
Charlotte pulled her chin up, "Don't look at me like that. Not all of us have gigantic tusks on our heads that we can use to impale our enemies." She huffed and crossed her arms beneath her breasts.
It was laughing at her, if the twitch of its lips was any indication, and she chuckled before shaking her head to clear it. "I've officially lost it."
The beast limped closer, and she caught the blood weeping from the wound on his calf. "Well, let's see about that then." She grasped one of the tears near the bottom of her shirt and ripped the fabric until she'd pulled a long enough section. "I don't suppose you'll let me make an attempt to bandage you? I'm not much of a veterinarian, but I do know that I need to stop your bleeding."
The elk was rigid as she crept forward, and she tucked her head down in submission and prayed she wasn't gouged by his antlers for sneaking into his personal space. Helping him was the least she could do since he'd saved her life, and it was far better than descending into the shock she felt trying to take over her shaking body. She sighed as she dropped to her knees before the wounded animal, and gently wrapped the cotton around his leg as many times as she could before knotting the ends. Slipping two fingers under the makeshift bandage, she checked to assure herself it wasn't too tight. "How's that?"
The elk dipped his head, and she took that to mean it would do. She imagined he'd probably gnaw it off later anyway.
"Well then, off you go!" She made a shooing motion with her bloodied hands, before adding, hastily, "Thank you!"
But the elk tilted it's head and seemed to be amused by her antics.
"Hey, whoa, no, what are you doing? Nope, back up, big guy."
The elk gently nosed her, his neck arched to avoid stabbing her with the tines of his antlers, prodding her until she faced the mountains and then pushing her in the back.
"Trust me, I'm not going anywhere near the woods." She assured, but the elk kept at her. "Okay, I'm going. I'm going. Get off your lawn, I know."
The elk finally stopped shoving at her when she picked her way over the heather toward the mountain. Charlotte was bone-weary, and had taken a good number of knicks and bumps herself, but her shirt was already jagged and exposing her midriff. She had no idea what the nights would be like and was unlikely to make it to the base of the mountain on foot by nightfall. Her options were: freeze overnight or pass out from blood loss. "Or both," She said ruefully and heard a snort behind her.
The elk was still following, impatiently at that, if the periodic stamp of his hooves were to be believed.
"I'm sorry, but this is as fast as I go," she said. "I'm only human after all, and I'm starving, barefoot, tired, bleeding, and, quite frankly, freaked out."
He shifted his head again and looked confused, then hung his head in what could only be the elk-equivalent of a defeated sigh. And suddenly, he was in front of her, with his strong back blocking the path to the mountain.
"Would you make up your mind, please?" Charlotte huffed. "Stay, go, which one- oof!"
He had sidestepped into her, giving her a mouthful of fur. His head craned around, and he nudged her toward his back.
"Oh no," Charlotte said, trying unsuccessfully to back away. "No, no. No, thank you. I've never even ridden a horse. It's very nice of you, but I'll walk. Hey, no! Stop pushing. There's no way I can even get on your back. Look at you. Goodness, what did you eat to get that tall, anyway?"
The elk neatly folded his legs under until he was settled in the heather, looking for all the world like a dignified antlered cat.
Charlotte glanced at the sun sitting low above the horizon and then at the base of the mountain in the distance. She sighed. "Fine. You win," she said. "You're awfully bossy for a majestic woodland animal."
If possible, he only looked pleased by the description.
Hands against his back, she pushed down to lever herself up and swung her left leg as far over as she could. The rest involved wiggling herself into place while trying to hold fistfuls of his short fur so she wouldn't slip off. She must've pulled too hard because he snorted at her and shook his head.
She quickly apologized, loosened her hold and squeezed her legs tighter around him as he lurched to his feet.
His trotting would cut their time in half, although she knew she would be sore from bouncing against his back the whole trip. At least she didn't have to worry about drifting to sleep and sliding off his back.
"Where are you taking me?" She asked when he veered off course. They were heading for one of the many outcroppings of rocks that dotted the landscape. A gash marred the surface, and he plunged them both inside without hesitation.
She figured this was his home, and they'd reach an open cave at some point, but as they dove deeper into the rocks, the pathway grew narrower and continued to slope downward.
Charlotte was tempted to sleep while they traveled but quickly shook it off as a terrible idea. In the past twenty-four hours, her mother had died, she'd suddenly found herself in a field far from her bed, and she'd been rescued from deformed sword-wielding monsters by a highly intelligent moose-elk. She was too exhausted and horrified to do anything other than stay alert while they traveled through the tunnels.
When it was so tight the walls scraped at her legs, she clutched his fur tightly. The sun had set a while ago, and thousands of stars glittered through the skimpy crevices above. She'd never seen so many stars in her life, and she thought it was the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen until they turned the last tight corner and emerged from the tunnel.
Water streamed through the fissures in the stone walls, pooling around the elk's hooves before dropping over the sheer face of the cliff and far into the valley below to join the river winding between the two mountain ranges. The air was thick with pine and the sound of hundreds of waterfalls as they carved at the mountain face. Nestled in the opposite cliff, across the stretch of the valley, a sweeping estate glowed and flickered with firelight. It was a stunning construction of arches and curves, with a spacious main house surrounded by smaller buildings that climbed up the side of the cliff. The high windows of the houses blazed with warmth, bronzing the dark valley.
The elk had paused, ears twitching forward and back, and Charlotte froze in her seat. At first, she could only hear the trickling water as it swirled under her, then the distant echo of the roaring falls through the valley, but at last, a soft whisper of a song, gentle and serene and with all the feeling of home, reached her ears.
"It's beautiful," she said, although it was a vast understatement.
Her companion agreed. He snorted and gracefully swerved to follow the path as it picked its way down the side of the mountain. Charlotte didn't consider herself clumsy, but she was sure she would have struggled over the rocks and shrubs in the darkness. The elk had no such issues, even with the limp forming in his front leg. Each step was as confident as if he'd traversed this path thousands of times before, and it wasn't long before they'd reached a long bridge that extended across the valley to the estate.
It was broad enough for a single rider, with no parapet, ending in a circular courtyard crowded with people. Their hushed melodic voices swam across the short distance, and the elk didn't hesitate to cross the narrow walkway to meet them.
She tightened her knees around his body after glancing over the edge to the churning river far below. Guarding each side of the bridge at the end, were two enormous statues of soldiers with long spears and layers of armor. Their stern foreboding faces were topped with elegantly pointed helms, and she shivered as she passed beneath them.
When her elk limped into the courtyard, the waiting crowd hushed. She clenched her companion's fur harder. She didn't know these strange people.
They were clearly divided into three groups, and all of them were dressed oddly, in long flowing robes and cloaks. At first, she thought it was a crowd of women, but the person at the center of the group, with wrinkles like a wave across his forehead and dark hair flowing all the way down his back, was definitely male.
"Welcome, traveler, to Imladris," he said, and his arms swept wide. On his brow, a silver circlet glinted in the light from the lanterns that circled the courtyard. But the ornament was the least of her problems. Poking out from his dark hair were two perfectly curved ears, tipped in a rounded point.
She glanced around. All of their ears were pointed! And while most of these people looked peaceful, with their soft expressions and gentile manners, the group on the far right looked lethal. They all wore dark breeches and tunics and had swords and bows strapped to their bodies. Most of the group already had a hand resting on either weapon.
Even as she watched them, they parted by some unheard command, and a man strode through. He was quite possibly the most stunning man she'd ever seen: he had wispy blond hair so pale it was nearly silver, capped with an impressive crown formed with branches and tiny red flowers. A thick green velvet cape swished against the stones as he passed through his subjects to gaze at her. His movements were sharp and efficient yet regal. Every bit of him screamed, "Predator!" He was the most frightening of all of them, and Charlotte quickly decided that she never wanted anything to do with the king before her.
Her previously fearless mount agreed. Her elk stumbled a few steps back onto the bridge as if to flee, and she hoped he would. He collected himself and stood rigid between the stone guardians.
"Where have you brought us?" She whispered to him. "They're certainly prettier than the others, but they don't look much safer." Charlotte eyed the king wearily.
The king smirked, and she heard a low feminine chuckle to her left. A beautiful woman, draped in a white gown, sailed forward with a blinding smile. Her eyes were deep and bright, and for a moment, Charlotte felt the strangest sensation of being trapped in them.
"He is not as terrifying as he seems. You are safe here, little one," the woman said. She then turned to the dark-haired man, "I am the Lady Galadriel, and this is Lord Elrond. He will be your host. You have traveled far to come here, Charlotte. Welcome to Middle Earth."
"Where exactly is 'Middle Earth?'" Charlotte asked, ignoring the confused gazes of the others.
The king opened his mouth as if to speak, but the Lady Galadriel cut him off. "There is a map in the Lord's study. I am sure he would be pleased to show it to you after your wounds are tended. He will be interested to know where you were attacked by orcs."
"How did you…"
She smiled, looking highly entertained. "I read your mind and your wounds. The pass will not be safe tonight, even with an elk of that size at your side. Come, there is food, medicine, and answers inside."
"What do you think?" Charlotte skeptically asked her elk, ignoring the fact that he brought her to this strange place to begin with.
The elk stomped his healthy leg twice, and she took that as an affirmative answer. She threw her left leg over his rump and slid down. The stone was cold and soothing against her torn bare feet.
As she stepped around the elk, suddenly, the men were extremely focused on anything but her: the trees, the stars, the lanterns that lit the walkways above the grand house... Lord Elrond coughed and shifted his feet as the Lady Galadriel laughed, loud and freely.
Charlotte realized then that she was standing barefoot in ripped sweatpants, and her shirt was torn so that it danced above her belly button. It was no wonder she was chilly, and obviously, it was far too little coverage to be considered "proper" by a group that covered themselves head-to-toe in robes.
Just as she was about to slink back to her mount, the king shifted and quickly strode toward her, yanking the silver clasps that held his cape around his collar. She jerked back against the chest of her companion, and the king froze.
"I mean only to offer you my cloak," he said, and his voice was softer than she had imagined it would be. He slowly edged forward, his silver eyes pinning her where she stood tucked under the chin of her only known friend in this strange place. "Here," he said. He gently slid it around her shoulders when she didn't move and clasped it beneath her chin. "You may keep it until you have more… fitting… garments."
"Thank you," she whispered. His cloak was a tale of contradiction: it smelled of sweet honey and vanilla, but also of oak and moist earth and golden leaves on a breeze in autumn. More importantly: it was decadently warm from his body heat. Even now, he still towered over her, the top of her head coming neatly to his chin.
"Come," Lord Elrond said, breaking the spell, "Let me see to your wounds."
"Wait!" Charlotte said. She pressed a hand to the neck of her elk. "My… friend… was injured. An arrow sliced his leg, and I did the best I could to bandage it, but it looked so deep. I can't go with you until he is taken care of. Please, do you have anyone who could look at him?"
Elrond eyed the enormous elk skeptically but called over his shoulder for another man who eagerly stepped forward. "Gwenestadren will care for your companion and shelter him in our stables."
"It is settled," Galadriel said. "Though your wounds may have clotted, you are likely to stain poor Thranduil's cloak with your blood if we do not tend to you soon."
Charlotte felt guilty and immediately reached to undo the clasp when the king sighed and covered her hands with his own. "Had I minded, I would not have loaned it to you. It is yours to borrow, as I have said." He ended his statement with a pointed glare at the smiling Lady.
The elk nudged her in the back then, and she turned to cup his face between her hands. "I'll be back to check on you as soon as I can. Probably tomorrow, so you can get some rest. Thank you for saving my life." She ran her hand down his muzzle and watched him happily close his eyes before he nudged her again. "I'm going. I'm going."
And as she followed Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel up the grand stairs and into the sprawling golden house filled with these strange unknown people, she couldn't help but glance back over her shoulder to watch her new friend as he was guided to the stables.
AN: Thank you for your kind reviews! They were incredibly motivating. I look forward to hearing your thoughts! Thanks for reading.
