The pink rays of dawn brought little warmth to Charlotte's chamber, and she was reluctant to remove from her bed. Instead, she pulled the woven bedsheet over her head like a hood until only her cold-flushed nose peeked from the fabric.
While the bedding was luxurious and thicker than her store-brand sheets at home, they were still too thin to keep the chill from her skin. As the temperatures dropped during the night, she found herself shivering and scrunching herself into a ball to guard her heat. The croaks and chirps of the nightlife frequently woke her; she was terrified they would caper about her unprotected room while she slept since there was no barrier to keep them outside.
None of those things had been responsible for waking her this time, though she couldn't discern what had disturbed the fraught slumber she'd finally slipped into during the wee hours of the morning. She shifted in her warm sheets, trying fruitlessly to move some of the heat near her chest to defrost her toes.
Her cocoon tempted her to stay buried away for the day, but she'd made a promise to say goodbye to Legolas, and she wasn't going to break it. So she ripped the sheets off and forced herself to get moving.
The stone floor was smooth and polished and soothed her aching feet. Her wounds hadn't entirely healed, and she'd danced multiple rounds with Amroth and Legolas the night before. There was an uncomfortable pressure on her soles, but the worst of the pain was gone.
A curved high-back chair beside the rounded door held a new gown: soothing evergreen silk with silver trumpet sleeves that Charlotte knew would waterfall to the floor. She exchanged it with the nightdress she'd slept in, trying to expose as little of her body to the chill as possible, and expecting to freeze while she switched into the gown.
But standing bare in the breeze from the windows, she was shockingly still warm.
She reached up to find the source of the heat spreading across her body, and found antlered necklace resting against her collarbones and the heat radiating from its protected stone.
"Mother, what on Earth did you give me?"
Charlotte bit her lip. She would never get to ask. Why didn't she ask more about the necklace when her mother had been lucid? Better yet: why hadn't she asked her mother how she'd been feeling?
The heat in her hand grew, and she felt a tugging throughout her body, an insistence that she move. Now. She yanked the dress over her head and threw on her boots. When she ripped open the door, she glanced up and down the corridor. Which way? Where was she supposed to go?
"This is crazy," she said, but she grabbed the necklace again, and felt the heat of the stone. A wailing filled her ears, the tugging intensified, and Charlotte stumbled in the direction she thought she was being tugged.
Her heart was pounding, and the feeling grew stronger as she raced through the corridors, her legs eddying the gown, and the thin sleeves flowing behind her.
Keeping track of the turns she made became impossible after a while, and she ended in a section of the house she'd never seen. The house was still asleep. None of the helpful elves who had been so plentiful yesterday were wandering the corridors, and there was no one to see her pass.
The wailing seemed to echo now, and she could hear the cries ringing in her ears. "Where are you?" She asked. She knew that voice and the sweet elf it belonged to.
The tugging led her to a rounded door in the middle of the hall, and she could hear the cries through the door.
She deliberated briefly on knocking, but heard the little voice crying, "Nana! Nana!"
Charlotte shoved the door open and felt her heart drop to her feet. Legolas stood in his nightshirt, his blonde hair askew, in the center of the chamber. Alone.
"Legolas?" Charlotte whispered. She stepped cautiously into the room. "Legolas, sweetheart, it's Charlotte."
There was a tiny golden blur and a sob as he flung himself at her. She dropped to her knees just in time to catch him. "Legolas, what's wrong? Where's you naneth?"
But that was the entirely wrong thing to ask, for Legolas's tiny body wracked with sobs, and he howled, "She's gone. She's gone!"
Charlotte ran her fingers over his soft hair and pulled him closer. There was a crumpled blanket on the bed in front of her, so she ripped it down and wrapped him in it before settling on the floor with him in her lap. She rocked as she smoothed her hand over his hair. What was she supposed to do? His parents were missing, and no one had come to check on the crying elf.
"Your naneth must be around here somewhere," Charlotte tried. "See? All the luggage is still here." She pointed to a stack of lumpy woven sacks near the door.
"Those are mine," Legolas hiccuped. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and Charlotte used a corner of the blanket to wipe the tears from his cheeks. "Hers were over there," He pointed a finger toward an empty corner by the window. "They're all gone. She left me!"
Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut to hold back her tears. They would not help Legolas. He burrowed into her chest, and she hugged him tighter. "Shhh, it's going to be okay. I'm here," She said. She wasn't sure what platitudes she offered as she rocked him in her arms and combed through her mind for options.
If Nemir had really gone, Charlotte couldn't expect the elleth to come back, and she would not leave Legolas by himself while she went to find help. She had to find Thranduil, and Legolas would have to go with her.
"Come, little one," She said and lifted him into her arms. "Let's go find your adar. Do you know where his room is?"
Legolas hiccuped again and shook his head. Her mysterious sixth sense and the necklace were silent. Charlotte took a deep breath. She couldn't walk down the hall shouting for the king, and she didn't know where his room was. She didn't even know how to find her own chamber at this point!
Surely, Thranduil would be nearby, right? Charlotte eyed the doors around her. How many elves would she have to wake to find him? Or one that spoke Common Tongue and could help her?
She glanced down at Legolas, still wrapped snugly in his blanket, with his fists clinging to her gown and fresh tears streaming across his porcelain skin and leaving damp green spots on her bodice, and she felt fierce protectiveness and resolve fill her. She would rip this house apart to soothe him. If every damn elf in the house had to be stripped from their bed, she would do it.
"Best get started then," She said and squared her shoulders. "I'll find your adar, sweetheart. Don't worry."
She straightened Legolas in her arms to free her fist and loudly knocked on the first door in front of her. A brief moment passed, and no one answered, so she moved to the next. And when no one answered that one, she pounded on the next door.
Over and over again, she worked her down the hallway banging on the circular wooden doors that guarded each chamber. "Is there no one in this freaking corridor?" She hissed. Legolas was getting heavier in her arms, and she'd already knocked on at least ten doors. She abandoned that corridor and moved to the next one.
This time she was livid. Who left a child alone in a corridor of rooms by himself? So her fist slammed particularly hard on the next door. She heard a thump through the wood, and angrily hissed words that sounded like cursing.
The door was ripped open, and a scowling Amroth filled the empty frame, snapping out a string of elvish that Charlotte was sure wasn't complimentary.
"Good morning to you too," she huffed and shifted Legolas again. The little elf was quietly hiccuping and sniffling against her. "Where do I find King Thranduil?"
"Charlotte?" Amroth blinked a few times, trying to shove the sleep from his eyes. He smelled strongly of the wine from last night, and Charlotte spied a maroon stain on his rumpled tunic. Then she noticed that the tunic was the only thing he was wearing and quickly averted her eyes. "What are you-" he caught her blush and, realizing his state, ducked partially behind the door. "Why do you have Legolas?"
"Amroth, focus. Where is King Thranduil's room?"
"End of the hall on the right. Charlotte, what's going on?"
But Charlotte was already striding toward the final door. Her arms were burning, as was her anger. "Bunch of irresponsible drunken elves," she thought.
The elves were so convinced that Imladris was safe that they hadn't bothered with guards, gotten ridiculously intoxicated, and a near-stranger had waltzed about with the Prince in her arms and no one the wiser. How could they be so reckless? And Nemir! Charlotte's nostrils flared. There were no words for her anger toward that elleth.
The fury boiling beneath the surface of her skin reached its peak, and her fist came down bruisingly on the king's door. She bit her the inside of her cheek and tried to soothe her temper before she upset Legolas further. She rarely lost it, and she was not going to scare Legolas any more than he already had been.
There was no thump from within the chamber this time, and the door was pulled open before Charlotte could knock again. Thranduil was already dressed in a collared silver robe that hugged his torso before splitting at his hips to glide around his legs. The branched crown sat perfectly on his neat blonde hair, and his silver eyes were alert as he took in the glaring Charlotte and her hiccuping bundle.
Amroth was hopping down the hallway as he tried to shove his legs into his leggings, and nearly toppled over as he shouted, "What's going on?"
"I would like to know that myself." Thranduil's voice was deep and rich. It was apparent he hadn't drunk himself into a stupor like Amroth.
Legolas chose that moment to pop his face out from his hiding spot within the blanket. His pert red nose appeared first, followed by his wobbling lower lip and watery eyes. "Adar?"
Thranduil was instantly enraged and towered over her. "What have you done to my son?"
"Me?" Charlotte nearly screeched. That pompous, arrogant, pointy-eared bastard! She shoved her way into his chambers and settled on the bed where she could rest Legolas' weight in her lap. Her arms were on fire, and she rolled her shoulders to work the kinks out. Legolas whimpered, and she pulled him closer.
"How dare you!" Thranduil hissed, trailing after her. "Release my son at once and leave!"
Amroth tripped barefoot into the room where he promptly shut the door. "Thranduil, keep it down, you're going to wake the whole house."
"As I should!" He whirled on the other king. "Where are the guards?"
"There are none," Charlotte sniped. "You left your son completely unguarded in a separate section of the house."
"He was with his naneth and her guards!" Thranduil yelled and then froze. "What do you mean, there are no guards?" His voice had dropped, and the silky whisper frightened Charlotte more than his yelling ever could.
"Naneth is gone, Adar," came the tiny wobbling voice from within the blanket. "She left me. She didn't even say 'goodbye.'"
The sobbing started again, and Charlotte shushed him and ran her hand over his head while she glared at his adar.
Thranduil, to his credit, looked shocked. His mouth popped wide, and he appeared to be on the verge of dropping. Amroth noticed it as well, and shoved a chair under him and said, "Sit. It's clear you've made quite a mess of things."
Charlotte couldn't tell if he dropped into the offered seat because Amroth had told him to or because he needed to. She could see him working through the events in a new light and finally coming to the correct conclusion.
"Where was he?" Thranduil whispered, and his glazed eyes stared past her.
"In his room."
"His room is on the other side of the house from yours," his eyes narrowed. "What were you doing there?"
Charlotte's temper had yet to cool, and his attitude was like gasoline on her flame. "Is this an interrogation?"
"Should it be?"
"You arrogant, conceited son of a-"
"Charlotte! Thranduil!" Amroth barked. "Enough." He nodded his head toward a wide-eyed Legolas, and Charlotte felt immediately embarrassed.
"Sorry, little one," she said and pulled his blanket back up. He settled comfortably into her shoulder and sniffled. Exhaustion etched across his face, and she knew he would be out cold soon if the adults managed to keep their voices down. She narrowed her eyes at Thranduil, who was still glaring at her.
"I do not like your level of familiarity with my son," he said and shifted in his seat. "Hand him to me."
With no logical reason to refuse, especially since she had initially sought out the king, Charlotte moved to deposit Legolas in his arms, but the little elf cried and clung tight to her dress and begged.
"Please don't leave me!"
She felt her heart chipping and squeezed him in her arms. "It's going to be alright, I promise."
"Please." His voice whispered. "Don't go."
That his mother would abandon him like this nearly broke her. She knew that loss and the grief that followed. It was darkness always on the edge of her vision, silently seething, waiting for a break in her defenses so it could swarm forth and swallow her whole. She had nearly three decades with her mother, and though she supposed Legolas had almost a similar amount of time, it was glaringly different. He was a child, and his mother left without warning and of her own volition.
Poor sweet Legolas was left to carry that pain, and she fervently wished she could ease even a fraction of his suffering.
Her necklace heated, and she felt more than saw Legolas's breathing even out, his tiny shoulder's unfurl. She watched in the quiet of the room, as his eyes fluttered once, twice, and then he was asleep.
"Now that is interesting," Amroth said, and Charlotte could see that he had once again leaned forward to study her.
"Indeed" was all Thranduil said, and though she had clearly done something to Legolas, the layer of suspicion had fled from his gaze.
"I think it's time for some answers," Amroth said. "Charlotte?"
So Charlotte took a breath and explained, quietly so as not to wake Legolas, how she had woken feeling strange and felt pulled in his direction. Her voice shook with anger as she described finding him alone and distraught in his room, and the subsequent hunt through the corridors. Thranduil was pacing like a tiger by the end of it.
"That hall was filled with guards and the members of her party from Lindon." His robe swirled as he spun on his heel and stormed through another loop. "If I find out that they left, knowing that he was alone, there will be drastic repercussions."
"She had to have known what this would do to him," Amroth added. His ordinarily cheerful disposition had twisted into something sour and unpleasant. He stood, darting a glance between the two of them, and said, "I'll be back. The lord will need to hear of this."
"Don't bother," Thranduil bitterly. "Let him enjoy his new bond uninterrupted."
Amroth placed a thick hand on Thranduil's shoulder. "He's very fond of Legolas, you know. As is Celebrían. They would be upset if you did not summon them when he needed them most."
A muscle twitched in Thranduil's jaw before he bowed his head. "Very well. Be it on your head if he throws you from the house for ruining his first morning with his bonded."
The room was uncomfortably silent once Amroth had departed. Thranduil seemed lost in his own contemplations, and Charlotte was following the steady rise and fall of Legolas's breathing. He was a sizeable weight on her legs, and she was tempted to lay him on the bed but feared she'd wake him or drop him. And then she realized that she was sitting on Thranduil's bed. A king's bed.
"Do you have another chair?" Charlotte whispered over Legolas's blonde head. "I can move off your bed."
Thranduil's silver eyes met hers for a moment before he dismissively looked away and, with a lazy wave of his hand, said, "You're welcome in my bed."
Charlotte flushed hot. He seemed to realize what he said, and quickly added, "I am done with it, and we depart today."
She wasn't entirely sure that it was better. The implication that she was welcome to his leftovers… even if it was just a bed... She sighed; he was just saving face and probably didn't mean it how her temper was having her interpret it. Still, he could only dream of being so lucky, her wounded pride whispered.
Then again, she took him all in, from the long powerful legs to the fitted robe stretched across his broad shoulders. He was lithe, and though he was hidden beneath the thick fabric layers, there was an undeniable strength. His hands were smooth, with narrow fingers and trimmed nails, and she let herself imagine for a second how they would feel sliding over her skin. Her eyes traveled over the deep silver of his eyes and the pink lips that quirked into a smirk.
She nearly growled at the smugness radiating off of him. He'd caught her staring, and every bit of his expression screamed, "I know I'm gorgeous." Thankfully, he kept his mouth shut.
The silence ensued, and Charlotte wondered how far Amroth had to go to fetch Lord Elrond and Celebrían. He had to be back soon, right? She chewed on her lip, gazed out the window at the sun-kissed valley, and nearly jumped when Thranduil's deep voice broke the silence.
"I suppose I should thank you," he said. He pulled at the cuff of his sleeves as if to straighten them, though they were already perfect. "For finding my son."
She realized he had neatly avoided actually thanking her, and though she didn't need it, because she adored Legolas and gave him comfort despite his arrogant father, she was still miffed at his haughtiness. She rolled her eyes and continued her study of the valley.
Down below, she could see the elves leading the horses from the stable and readying them for the journey to the Greenwood. She still had that decision to make. She desperately wanted to find a way home, but Galadriel and Elrond had been firm in their belief that there was no way back. Not only that, but Celebrían seemed to imply that Charlotte had somehow died in her old life since that was how elves were reborn.
And then there was the issue of figuring out what she was even going back for.
If she went back, she had her work waiting for her. Even with her mother's illness, she had kept in touch with the history and foreign languages departments. It was how she snagged the assistant position with the highly respected and tenured Professor Filmont, who had left for France shortly after and dumped her onto the newly hired Dr. Lewis, who constantly complained about his tea temperature. While she did not want to go back to working with him, she could reapply for the university and finish her studies.
Of course, her mother's things were there, and her house was likely a flawlessly kept shrine if Betsy had anything to do with it. She wasn't too worried about what happened to her mother's belongings. They had known that her mother was deteriorating and had a will in place long before. Her mother had insisted upon it when she was first diagnosed. The house and most of her mother's possessions would be left to Charlotte, aside from a few specific items set aside for her sister, Abby, who had been mostly absent from their lives since she turned 18 and high-tailed it out of town. Last Charlotte had heard, she was living in Chicago, happily married with two cute kids. She called home a few times a year, but those calls dwindled with her mother's mental clarity, and she hadn't called in over a year.
Her mother's 401k had been depleted, but the house was in a decent financial position, and she'd paid the mortgage the week before she disappeared from her old life. The energy bill would be due soon, though, and the quarterly water bill came around at the end of the month. Without the pay for the week, she might have to let one run overdue and hope she could manage the late fee.
Her mother had wanted to take out a loan on the house to pay for some of the rapidly accumulating expenses, but Charlotte refused to have her mother use her home as collateral for her health. So she was a bartender in the evenings after she finished at the university, and when the university was closed for breaks, she picked up tutoring jobs for local high school and middle school students. But she'd have to play catch-up when she got back to make up for the loss of income for the days she'd been missing while she was wrapped up in this fictional world.
But it would be worth it, right? To be home surrounded by her mother's things and her familiar rhythm? Sure there weren't really any people for her to go back to. Betsy was somewhere between friend and acquaintance; she was always Dora's friend and caretaker to Charlotte, and she didn't often hang around while Charlotte was visiting, in order to give her some privacy with her mother. And she'd already reasoned that her sister was so far removed from her life that Abby would hardly notice that Charlotte had even vanished. There were no friends or boyfriends… just a life full of near-strangers.
Her mother had said, "You're nearly thirty Charlotte. You can't just let life pass you by." She wasn't prepared for the sharp sting of pain that rode in on the memory of her voice.
"Are you well?" Thranduil asked. For once, he honestly looked concerned.
"Yes, thank you," She said quietly. Thranduil looked as if he would say more, but changed his mind, and she caged the grief attempting to escape the box she'd shoved it in.
She was getting desperate enough to make small talk with him, more to avoid thinking about her mother and her life before Imladris than any sense of awkwardness at this point. Thankfully, Lord Elrond and Celebrían arrived before she resorted to such drastic measures.
When Charlotte caught sight of them, what Amroth had said about the differences in the fëar of bonded couples was apparent. The usual radiance that illuminated the elves was visible, but as she watched, she could see the edges blur and stretch as if trying to embrace each other, a perfect symbiotic relationship where each fëa fed the other.
"Their domestic bliss is sickening, isn't it?" Amroth chuckled, noting her unfocused examination. When she zeroed in on his expression, the light faded slightly, though it was still noticeable, almost like catching something in her peripheral: there but blurry.
Celebrían was carrying a small tray of what looked like thick beige cookies with a glass jar of amber honey. Charlotte grinned. "Those would be the legendary oatcakes then?" She asked.
"Oatcakes?" Came the small voice within the blanket. Legolas peeked out and spotted Celebrían. "Did you bring honey?"
The elleth's smile was soft and sweet, and she nodded, "How could I forget? They're your favorite." She held out a hand and waved it. "Why don't you come along with me, and we'll eat these in the garden?"
Legolas hesitated, but after a tense moment, he shifted in his blanket and turned his big eyes to Charlotte. "You'll be here when I come back, right? You won't leave?"
Charlotte glanced around the other elves, who all possessed such a profound look of sorrow, before she said, "Absolutely. If I'm not right here when you get back, I'll be in my room."
"You're coming with us, right?" he said.
His red puffy eyes looked so miserable to her, his pale face still stained and shiny from his tears, and she found herself saying, "Yes."
"Really?" he said, disbelief evident in his tone. It was hardly surprising considering his morning. "You promise?"
Charlotte made a habit not to make promises she couldn't keep, and she took a moment to think it over. She knew she had nothing to go back to but painful memories and loneliness. Looking around the room, she remembered her mother's words and took in the faces of the elves who were seamlessly morphing into friends in such a short space of time. Of course, there was Thranduil; he was still a wild card to her. But then there was Legolas; sweet, innocent, hopeful Legolas who just had his entire world turned upside down, much as she had.
"I promise," she said. And then more firmly, "I will travel with you to the Greenwood."
A small smile graced his face, though his dimples remained buried beneath the weight of his sorrow, and he untangled himself from the blanket and allowed Celebrían to lead him from the room.
Amroth gently laid his hand on her shoulder. "You better prepare yourself for the journey. I'll escort you to your room. No doubt your lady's maid will be concerned at your absence."
Charlotte worried about Legolas returning to find her gone, but Thranduil read her mind. "I will inform him," he said shortly and waved her off.
She nodded once and allowed Amroth to tuck her arm through his. Just before she left, she heard a heavy sigh, and a softly whispered, "Thank you." She kept her back straight and didn't turn around, though she swore she heard the echoes of his sigh chase her all the way back to her room.
