When Charlotte was much younger, and her mother healthier, she would frequently play princesses with her baby sister, Abby. They would take turns swirling their bedsheet dresses and dipping into deep wobbly curtseys for their eager audience; Lumpy the Bear was a devoted theater-goer, after all, and didn't everyone eventually marry and become a princess? But little Charlotte grew older, tucked her princess career behind her, and became an assistant to a university professor in the history department where her crotchety boss relegated her to fetching hundreds of cups of tea and translating the original source material into English for him.
"You're hardly qualified to do much else," he would say, before taking a sip of his tea and insisting she make him a new cup because it was too cold.
She would dutifully nod, ignore that she brought the steaming hot tea twenty minutes earlier, and make a fresh cup because the university signed the paycheck that covered her mother's in-home living assistant, the weekly home visit with a nurse, and all the other minutiae that went into caring for her mother. It didn't matter that all of his research depended on her translations and her connections between other relevant texts.
Charlotte felt a brief surge of pride: qualified or not, she was the one currently wearing a flowing medieval gown that ghosted across the stone floors of a lord's Art Nouveau mansion. Walking beside these perfect examples of medieval lords and ladies quickly squashed that satisfaction. The burgundy gown was beautiful and the velvet soft, but she was clearly an unpolished imposter compared to these otherworldly beings. They each looked regal in their robes and gowns, with branching silver circlets gracing their smooth hair. The Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel even possessed brilliant glowing rings upon their hands. They looked like angels to Charlotte and seemed to float rather than stumble along as she did.
In her defense, she was exhausted, and her feet were wrapped snuggly in bandages and crammed into ill-fitting shoes that were an odd cross between ankle boots and slippers. The white cloth bandages peeked out from the open vee across the bridge, and the back strap ended just above the heel. They looked like two folded leaves reaching up from her toes to hug around her ankle.
Even now, as she paced beside the arching windows that lined the Lord Elrond's office, the differences were notable. Elrond, Galadriel, the Elvenking, and four others she'd yet to be introduced to, sat patiently, still as lake water, while she churned like an ocean.
"I'm in Imladris?" Charlotte asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "And you all are elves? And- wait, I'm sorry, what year is it?"
"The year is 109 of the Third Age," a golden-haired man- no, elf, spoke from his post behind Lord Elrond.
"Third age of…" Charlotte prompted. "I'm sorry…"
"Glorfindel, my lady." The blonde bowed shortly.
"Glorfindel." Charlotte flipped her gauzy white sleeves back so she could rub warmth into her fingers. The windows lacked glass, and the breeze was chilly. The thin fabric covering her arms did little to thwart the winter temperatures, and the Elvenking's warm cloak had been returned to him while a servant had dressed her. "How am I here? Why am I here?"
Lord Elrond folded his long pale fingers from where he was seated behind an ornate wood desk with carvings of flowers and leaves wrapping around its legs. "It would be best if we start with where you have come from. Begin with your last memory before you arrived here."
Charlotte did not want to think about her last memory. Not when the loss was so fresh. It had been only a single day since her mother's death. Had Betsy worried when she didn't show up in the morning to discuss the funeral arrangements? Did she call Abby?
"I got a phone call," she hedged, "with terrible news."
One of the silver-haired elves looked ready to ask what a phone call was, but Lord Elrond silenced him with a wave. "Later, Amroth," the lord said.
"I couldn't breathe. There was white everywhere and heat. I must have passed out. When I woke up, I was lying in the fields on the other side of the mountains."
"Is this where you encountered the orcs?"
"At first, no." Charlotte rubbed the edge of a sleeve between her thumb and forefinger. "I wandered most of the day. The forest… there was just something unpleasant about it, so I figured I'd make my way toward the mountains and find civilization. I could hear the river, and normally there's a city or a town near water sources."
She was hardly expecting the civilization she found: an establishment of elves in a luxurious home with lush gardens, terraces that arched over the river, gazebos with climbing vines of fragrant flowers, and hundreds of waterfalls creating a symphony as they carved the mountain.
Even stumbling and tired, she was awed by the majesty of it. And the elves! The air was permeated with melodic voices singing out. They sang greetings and goodbyes and everything between them. Even Lord Elrond sang to her as he picked and scrubbed the dirt and rocks from her battered feet and smeared a sweet-smelling poultice across the wounds.
"The orcs were near the forest when they spotted me," Charlotte said. She left off that she had foolishly called out to them. "They tried to chase me into the trees, but the elk rescued me."
"They will not risk entering these lands," Lord Elrond said, and his tone implied that he would not elaborate.
"It is concerning that they are so close to our borders." Glorfindel moved to the door. "Boe i 'waen. I will increase the border patrols and send a party to burn the corpses."
"No dirweg." Lord Elrond inclined his head briefly before turning his gaze to Charlotte.
"What language is that?" Charlotte asked. "It's almost Welsh, but I can't completely understand it."
"We're speaking the Common Tongue now, but we normally speak Sindarin."
"It's very similar to the texts I translated for the university."
"I have not heard of universities?"
"They're huge centers of learning, with hundreds to thousands of students," Charlotte said. "Normally, you spend years learning general knowledge, and then you can apply for university if you want."
The lord looked intrigued by the idea, but Galadriel shifted the topic. "That is a lovely necklace, Charlotte."
Charlotte glanced down at the glittering stone glowing in the antlered setting. She realized she had been smoothing her fingers over the tines as she spoke. "Thank you, it was a gift from my mother."
"Is your mother from our world?" Galadriel asked.
Charlotte shook her head. "She was born in Virginia and lived there her whole life. She said a stranger gave it to her, but I've no idea where she got it."
Galadriel's eyes held, and Charlotte felt the intensity of her stare. "Indeed," was all the lady said.
"I see what you mean, Mother," the young elf woman said from beside Galadriel. Charlotte remembered her name was Celebrían. "The necklace is definitely of elvish make. Were there many elves in Virginia?"
Charlotte snorted. "Elves are stories where I'm from. Orcs don't exist either. This is likely just a really convincing costume piece. We couldn't afford expensive stones the size of this."
Galadriel's lips quirked, and she rose from the settee by the window. "May I?" she asked, inclining her head toward the necklace. "You do not have to remove it if you wish." Charlotte acquiesced, and Galadriel scooped the stone into her dainty fingers and closed her eyes. "The stone has power," she said. Her eyes danced behind her lids. "Though I cannot access it. Nor determine from whence it came. It is unlike anything I have seen on this side of the sea."
Charlotte caught the look shared between the Lord Elrond and the lady. "But you've seen it before? On some continent across the sea?" She glanced down at the lady's hand to study the ring there. Its design was simple but elegant: the band was silver, much like Charlotte's necklace, and consisted of a flower-shaped cage that held a small glowing diamond. "Is this where you found the stone that's in your ring?"
For the first time since Charlotte had met her, Galadriel seemed shocked. A quick look around the room confirmed that all the elves had lost their peaceful facade. Except for the Elvenking. He smirked from his position, leaning against the bookshelves running across the long wall at the back of the office.
"What does it look like?" Galadriel held her hand aloft, allowing Charlotte a closer look at the stone.
"Like a diamond, probably the best diamond I've ever seen. Set into a flower," Charlotte shrugged and turned to the master of the house. "It glows like Lord Elrond's ring."
This caused a further commotion. "How can she see them both?" The elf, Amorth asked.
"What does this mean, Nana?" Celebrían moved to her mother's side.
Lady Galadriel was silent at first, her eyes glazed as she stared through the open windows as if seeking an answer from the night. "I think that is obvious." She turned to the room at large. "An elleth from a different world appears on the borders with an Elven necklace and a stone of power just as we have all assembled for the wedding. The rings of power cannot be hidden from her sight, either because of her rebirth or the stone she carries. Her light is bright, as bright as that of Glorfindel's."
Elrond's expression was solemn, and Charlotte could hardly believe what he said next. "It is clear that she has been unknowingly sent on a quest by the Valar."
Charlotte ran her fingers through her hair, dislodging some of the intricate braids. Quest! She was a research assistant. She made quests for coffee for grumpy professors, not magical Elven journeys. She said as much to Galadriel, who waved off her concerns.
"The Valar would not have chosen you without reason," she said. "While your task is not clear to me, I'm confident I can guess your direction."
Elrond was nodding as well, "You must journey with Thranduil to the Greenwood. There you will perhaps uncover your purpose."
Thranduil lost his smirk. He bolted from the shelves, scowling, "I will not risk the safety of my people on an outsider. What suggests that the Valar have deemed this?"
Galadriel, who seemed to enjoy riling the king, grinned, "Have you not pieced it together yourself?"
"Do not test him, Lady," Amroth drawled. "You know better than most how it will end." At some point, he had pulled an ornate dagger out and was polishing it with a small cloth.
"I was fond of that vase," Galadriel sniffed. "It was a gift from my Adar on my fiftieth birthday and could not be mended or replaced."
Elrond pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Please, control yourselves, there are priceless texts here, and I do not wish to see them shredded or burned in your match."
Thranduil's face smoothed, save for a single raised eyebrow, a silent challenge to the lady. "I am still waiting for your explanation, Lady."
"She bears your emblem," Elrond said, impatient with their bickering. "I'm sure you recognize the elk antlers that hold the stone, and she rode in moments behind your company on a rather large elk. Are those not signs enough?"
"I care little for the Valar's signs and their mortal plaything," He spat. "Where were the Valar when my people were slaughtered outside of that accursed land? When the monster they allowed to form destroyed the citizens of my realm? I have no interest in engaging in another of their quests."
"Your realm was not the only to suffer!" Galadriel hissed.
"My realm was not shielded by a ring of power!" Thranduil turned from them all.
Charlotte watched his shoulders hitch, the muscles tensing along his neck, and felt rage. How dare he call her the plaything of some deity? She had no desire to aid him with anything, even if she could. Her opinion was firmly fixed: Thranduil was haughty, rude, and stubborn, and she'd find her way home long before she agreed to go anywhere with him.
Amroth, the calmest of the group besides the silent Celebrían, tucked his shining dagger into his boot, stood, and placed his large hand on Thranduil's shoulder. "Perhaps this is their aid," Amroth said. "Would you shun it now, because it did not arrive sooner? When, as you say, your people need assistance and hope the most of us all?"
The tension melted off of Thranduil, giving him the appearance of being deflated. "Very well," he said, although he still didn't turn away from the shelves of leather-bound books. "I will take her to Greenwood after the wedding."
"In the meantime, she will, of course, stay here while we arrange supplies for her travel." Elrond motioned to the last elf, who had been so quiet, Charlotte had forgotten him. "Lindir, would you be willing to see to the arrangements?"
At this point, Charlotte reached her limit. "Now wait just a moment! I haven't agreed to any of this. I am not some magical godsent human destined to save imaginary elves. I'm going home, to Virginia, where I belong."
The room was silent, although they looked more confused than angry at her outburst. Celebrían bit her lip before she said in her sweet, gentle voice, "Charlotte, you are not human. Were you human before? In Virginia?"
"Before?" Charlotte took a step back. "There is no 'before.' I am human. I've always been human."
Celebrían gave her such an intense look of pity that Charlotte instantly bristled. The stunned crowd had deferred this conversation to the young sweet elven woman, who grasped Charlotte's hand and pulled her to a pedestal beside Elrond's desk. A bowl filled with water balanced on top of the short stone column. It was likely a quick place for the lord to clean his hands or splash his face, but Celebrían intended it as a mirror. "Look," she said, squeezing Charlotte's hand.
Charlotte stifled a gasp. The woman in the still water certainly looked like her, except this was a sharper, perfected version. A revised copy of the original. Her cheekbones were more defined, her face shaped in a perfect heart. And her hair! How had she not noticed the extra inches it had suddenly grown? Her eyes, thankfully, were still the same forest green as her mother's. The most damning evidence, however, was the pointed ears poking from beneath her unruly curls.
She wasn't entirely sure what she said as she fled the room, although she thought she'd politely excused herself in some way. She needed fresh air. Just a quick chance to think. Her gown fluttered as she rushed past the curious stares of the elves that wandered the hallway.
The halls were beautiful but confusing. She often thought she had finally found a path out of the house, only to cross through a small courtyard into another corridor. The arching columns and vine carvings that covered the walls and ceilings meant that everything looked the same. Charlotte asked a random elf at one point: "Please, how do I get outside?" But he had responded with a confused expression and a regretful string of Elvish.
Fortunately, Celebrían found her shortly after. "Charlotte, wait!"
Desperate enough for any assistance, Charlotte asked, "Please, I just need to be outside."
To her credit, Celebrían didn't hesitate. She looped an arm through Charlotte's and quickly guided her through the corridors and out into the night air. After seating Charlotte on a stone bench in one of the many gardens that overlooked the falls, Celebrían enveloped Charlotte's hands in her own.
"I cannot imagine what you're feeling right now," the young elf said. Her thumbs rubbed across Charlotte's chilled fingers in a soothing rhythm. "To be so far away from home and all that you are familiar with, it must be frightening."
"I'm not supposed to be here," Charlotte whispered. "I'm not some special warrior princess sent to destroy evil. Places like this… elves… orcs… they're not real. I can't help but worry. What if I'm like my mother? What if this is my mind slipping away from me?"
"You are strong, Charlotte. From your tale, you have already been through so much," Celebrían said. "I am as real as you. I can assure you, your mind is intact. How can I help you through this?"
"Is there any way for me to go home?"
Celebrían squeezed her hands tightly. "I am so sorry. There is not. We have only had one recorded instance of elven rebirth: the Lord Glorfindel. The Valar spoke to him of his task before he sailed from the Undying Lands to Middle Earth, and they were adamant that he would stay here until the line of Elrond Peredhel left this land. I wish, for your sake, that you had received such council on your own task."
Charlotte sniffled and felt her eyes burn. She had lost her mother and her home in the space of a day. All of the mementos of her mother, save the necklace she wore, were beyond her reach. And Charlotte wasn't sure what hurt worse: that she had lost her home or that the life she left behind wasn't worth much to her now that her mother was gone. What did she have besides her work and the care of her mother?
Still, staying in some realistic rendition of a medieval cosplay settlement didn't sound tempting either. She had no applicable skills that would enable her to survive such a life! She said as much to her companion.
"Elves are wonderful teachers," Celebrían soothed. "We will teach you all you need to know."
"That would be difficult since I don't even speak the language."
"You will learn it, and, since you say it sounds so similar to a language you already know, perhaps you will learn it quickly. There are many of our people who speak the Common Tongue, and King Thranduil will have someone who will be able to work with you on acquiring the language."
"I hardly want to go anywhere with him," Charlotte huffed.
Celebrían's smile was soft. "Thranduil is not like the other elves here, although he is Sindarin. Here we are artists, philosophers, and craftsmen first and warriors second. While Thranduil's people, the Silvan Elves, are all of these things, they are decidedly more... passionate and wild. And certainly more dangerous."
"More danger is hardly a convincing argument."
"Give him a chance," she insisted. "He is correct: his people have faced great losses. He has faced great losses and has sacrificed much for his people."
"I could probably more easily forgive his rudeness had he not so quickly insulted me when he knows nothing about me. I would rather not travel with him anywhere."
"Talk to him tomorrow. I am sure you will change your mind," she said. "Do not reject my advice so soon. You are tired and need rest. Come. I will show you to a guest room near my own."
Celebrían was a peaceful and silent companion as she escorted Charlotte through the mansion, down the winding corridors, to a row of round wooden doors set on the inside of a windowed hallway. "If you need me, I am staying in the next room. You are welcome, no matter the time. I wish to be a friend to you if you will let me."
Charlotte couldn't remember the last time she'd had a true friend. Her schedule hadn't been conducive to maintaining relationships. "I'd like that," she finally said.
The other elleth smiled. "Goodnight then, Charlotte. Samho amdir."
"Oh! That reminds me: you all spoke Common Tongue to me when I arrived, even though I look like an elf."
Celebrían's chuckle was soft. "The border patrol heard you speaking common to your elk, and the Lord Elrond called out to you twice in Elvish, but switched when you did not respond. It was actually King Thranduil who suggested you did not speak Sindarin." Her eyes twinkled mischievously.
Charlotte took the gentle nudge. "I'll talk to him tomorrow," she conceded. "I promise."
Unlike her mother, Celebrían didn't gloat at her victory. She smiled softly, squeezed Charlotte's hand once more, and pushed the heavy oak door that shielded Charlotte's chamber from the drafty corridor. "Sleep well, friend," she said, before vanishing behind her own rounded door.
"Sleep well," Charlotte whispered.
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AN: In the next chapter, we'll get into the scene that inspired this story. Thank you for the reviews! They are motivating and encourage me to continue writing and revising even when I feel like the words aren't coming out the way I want them. -NC
Translations:
Boe i 'waen. I must go.
No dirweg. Be careful.
Nana [informal version of Mother] Mom/Mama/Mommy
Samho amdir. Have hope.
