Her thighs were pounding, and it was entirely her own fault.
The first hours of travel from Imladris had been relatively peaceful, with minimal talk from the elves. In the crags of the high pass, even whispers had a chance of echoing. Despite Meluieth's promise that the Greenwood elves rode quickly, the progress up the mountain was decidedly sluggish, partially due to the thin layer of slush that coated the rocky passages from early snow that didn't survive the late autumn temperatures.
Elves were forced to dismount their horses at the narrow gaps so they could gently sing and cajole their steeds through the tight spaces.
Charlotte's steed would not be coddled, however. The elk's obstinacy led to him wedging his antlers between the cliff faces halfway through the first day. With a long-suffering sigh only her elk could muster, he fought and yanked and tugged himself free, and then, much to the bemusement of the elves, turned his head sideways to the left, so his antlers ran parallel to the walls, and he walked blindly through the gap with only a stunned Charlotte leading him through with the reins.
Legolas had been enthralled by the move, and danced at Charlotte's heels at each crossing, eagerly asking, "Can I lead him? Please?" Of course, Charlotte would always allow him, and Legolas spent a large part of the first day at her side, much to the joy of the elves around them.
Lothuial was particularly interested in Legolas's presence and rattled off strings of Elvish to him that Charlotte could obviously not understand. The rain and rough travel hardly allowed Galadriel to teach Charlotte any Elvish, and she doubted she'd be fluent enough, in the beginning, to understand Lothuial anyway. Legolas's responses were monosyllabic and polite in return and gave no indication as to the topic of the discussion. Charlotte's only measure of the conversation was Meluieth's barely contained glee.
"She speaks to the prince about her horse," Meluieth whispered to Charlotte with a roll of her eyes, before she quietly translated. "Is he not the most beautiful? He is incredibly fast, you know, likely the fastest trained horse in the Greenwood. Perhaps I can speak to your adar about taking you for a ride on the plains beyond the pass."
On and on the elleth went, and when they reached the next pass and had to dismount once more, she quickly seized the approaching prince's attention before he could reach Charlotte. Legolas kept darting a glance at the elk's reins before finally saying, "I apologize, Lady Lothuial, but Charlotte is waiting for me to help her with the elk."
Charlotte didn't catch what the elleth said next, but she grew concerned when she saw little Legolas's back stiffen. "Charlotte is my friend," he said and turned to stomp away before adding over his tiny shoulder, "and it's rude to speak in a language that others nearby don't understand. Mother says-" He froze, his lip quivered, and his voice cracked as he continued, "It is a prince's duty to unify his people."
A single tear was briefly visible before he wiped it away under the pretense of straightening his waist-length blond hair.
"Here you go." Charlotte handed the elfling the reins. The elk snuffled at Legolas's hair until he earned a half-hearted giggle, and then the beast puffed up proudly. Charlotte sent the elk a grateful smile.
Legolas was still muted as he walked the elk through the tight gap, and he handed the reins to Charlotte on the other side with quiet thanks. She did not see him at the next crossing; he stayed with Amroth and Thranduil in the lead.
Unfortunately, she was stuck with Lothuial since all of the elleth traveled close together between the guards, and for better or worse (definitely worse, in Charlotte's opinion), Lothuial had taken Legolas's words to heart.
"It's such a pleasant ride, is it not?" She said, finally speaking Common Tongue. She was a stunning elleth, all long graceful limbs, and smooth, shiny blond hair. "A pity we must travel slowly to adjust to the inexperienced in the group. I had hoped to make it to the Greenwood in time for Mereth Nuin Giliath."
"Mereth Nuin Giliath is not until December!" Eithoril cried. "Surely, we should not take so long as that!"
"It is upsetting, I know, but we must endure. Still, I should have liked to have seen it. Perhaps next year, when we do not face such delays and travel."
Charlotte was silently fuming above her elk. Inexperienced! She could drive a manual, thank you very much, and was confident that a few days on horseback- or "elkback" as it were- would be well within her power.
So she bounced along on the elk's back, carefully ensuring she stayed ahead of Eithoril and Lothuial at all times. She was the last to dismount and the first to clamber back on after leading the elk through the gaps.
But each dismount grew harder, and on the third day of the journey, rain lashed at the mountains, and lightning cracked across the sky. Storms raged for days, and the elves marched onward through the rivulets of water that sought their way down the mountain.
She was damp and chilled and smelled like wet elk. Her hips twinged with each bump and jostle, and her thighs began to burn and ache until she found herself walking slightly bow-legged to prevent the skin from grazing. By the fifth day of riding, she no longer dismounted, and blessedly the rain gave way to brilliant blue skies as they came down the other side of the High Pass. The party was soon gliding like shadows beneath the pines on the worn dirt roads that trailed beyond the eastern side of the mountains.
When they stopped to make camp that evening, Charlotte was exhausted. She hobbled as close to the fire as she dared, neglected to even set up a bedroll, and quickly dropped into sleep without eating anything or shifting out of her damp clothes.
Sometime in the night, she woke herself with her own shivering. The elves were able to see a squirrel in the trees on a moonless night, and she'd discovered that while they were not impervious to the cold or heat, the elves were easily able to tolerate a broader range of climates than the average human. Charlotte had somehow missed this particular attribute, and the once bright fire had long grown cold and dark.
She clenched her teeth together to keep them from rattling and cursed herself for not laying out a blanket and cursed herself again for her own lack of horsemanship. Her legs and butt and back were burning, and they still had weeks to go! Balled on the forest floor quaking, she committed to a long night of little sleep and hoped, since they were resting the horses for the day, that she would get to curl up in a sunbeam like a cat and nap later. With that hope in heart, she dozed in and out, flinching at the cracking branches and rustling leaves, until the last elf on the night watch rose and set about waking the camp while singing:
The night was just the moon and me
And the whispers of a calling sea
But now it's time to wake and greet
the sun who wants for you to meet
Wrens and thrushes whistle too
Long do they wait to sing to you
Awake! fair elves in mountain's bow
Eryn Galen awaits us now.
It had the opposite intended effect: the soothing voice lulled her back to sleep in the pink dawn, and she was content for a while.
Until a cold, wet alarm clock nudged her cheek.
She opened her eyes and nearly shrieked. The elk, who she really had to name soon so she could adequately chastise him, was inches from her face looking rather pleased.
"You're part cat, I swear it," she mumbled and felt an innocent sliver of glee at the elk's mock-offense. "Finally warming up to me?"
She hissed as she stood and tottered. Her thighs brushed, causing her to jerk in pain, and she toppled over, arms flailing until one hand captured the tine of an antler. The elk slowly pulled her upright.
"Thanks."
Charlotte reached down to poke at her legs and hips in curiosity. There was a steady burning, but she had to bite her lip when she reached the tops of her inner thighs where she swore there were two extremely painful golf balls embedded beneath her skin.
Meluieth came around the elk just then with a bundle of fresh clothing and, catching sight of Charlotte's agonized expression, tutted and slid an arm through hers and tugged her toward the tree line.
"I feared you would be so stubborn." She tsked and pulled a small satchel from her pocket. "You are fortunate we're resting today."
"Have mercy on a poor injured woman. Where are you dragging me?"
"Elleth."
"What?"
"You're no longer a woman, Charlotte. You're one of us now."
Charlotte sighed, and then winced as she stepped over a fallen tree branch. "I keep forgetting that."
Meluieth's frown softened, and she gave her arm a squeeze. "You'll have plenty of time to get used to it."
Thousands of years stretched before her, and she had no idea what she would do with a life so long. She changed the topic instead. "You never answered my question."
"I'm taking you downstream to soak before the others fully wake. The cold will help, as will this." She bounced the satchel in her free hand.
As it turned out, the satchel contained a roll of soft linen bandages wrapped around a thick vial of clear fluid.
"Witch hazel," Meluieth grinned proudly, turning the bottle to catch the sun's pink rays until it seemed to blush. "Made it myself. I had assistance, of course. I'm not supposed to make it on my own just yet."
Charlotte took a quick guess, "Lord Elrond is teaching you medicine?"
"His first apprentice in 400 years." She squeezed the vial tightly and studied the stream ahead. "It's mostly letters back and forth, but once a year, a party of elves makes the journey to Imladris, and the king encourages me to attend. He knows I do not wish to be a lady's maid forever."
"Is there not a doctor in Greenwood you could learn from?"
"There is a healer, but he is weary from the last war, and every day he slips closer to fading. The war decimated our people; those who weren't slain in battle, found their spirits weakened by the Dark Lord's hold in the south. We lost many to grief, and there are so few of us now. There have been no elflings born. A century after his destruction, we feel it creeping into our fëa; our people are hurting, and I fear many will choose to sail west before long."
Meluieth took a deep breath and forced a bright smile. "But perhaps our luck has changed."
Charlotte felt her stomach twist at the idea that Meluieth referred to her. The necklace had been suspiciously silent since departing Imladris, and she hadn't figured out what exactly it did.
She glanced at the antlered jewelry adorning her chest. Her mother had been so proud to give it to her, this gift from a stranger. The necklace was a permanent reminder of the last twenty minutes she would ever get with her mother, her real mother, not the shade left behind for years. For that brief hiccup of time, she'd been seen and known and had it cruelly ripped away.
No, she thought with a shake of her head, best not to think about that. She smoothed her hand across the pain in her chest and tightened the reins on her emotions. Later. She'd deal with it all eventually. Maybe.
Instead, she let Meluieth convince her to strip down and sit bare on one of the smooth rocks in the stream. She was thankful for the days of rain, as they'd swirled down the mountain and swelled the stream, so it easily covered her hips sitting down. She sighed once she was immersed in the cold water, enjoying the small amount of relief it offered.
Meluieth helped scrub her long hair and left Charlotte to tend to the rest by herself while she soaked the bandages in the witch hazel concoction. Charlotte was soon wrapped in bandages, freshly clothed, and laying spread eagle on the bank with her eyes closed and her feet soaking in the running water.
"The others should be moving about by now." Meluieth was twining the remaining bandages around the glass vial to guard it. "I'll finish this and see if I can assemble breakfast for us. Why don't you stay here and soak?"
Charlotte rolled up on her elbows. "I'll come along and help."
"We still have three weeks of riding ahead of us. It would be best if you stayed there and let the witch hazel do its work without you walking around and making things worse." She softened the reprimand with a gentle smile and left the injured elleth sprawled in the grass.
Charlotte flopped back with a sigh, feeling utterly useless and dreading another three weeks of riding. Having to clamor onto the elk's back once more caused her to clench her toes.
She flung an arm over her eyes and sighed. "I am a prideful idiot."
"Most mortals are," a voice said.
She froze. This was the absolute last person she wanted to see her like this, stretched out in pain with bandages laced around her thighs. Not that he could see them through her leggings. Then she caught on to what he had said.
"Most of us are not prideful." She glared, and then mumbled, "I'm apparently just a special case."
He laughed, full and rich, and so unexpected that even he looked surprised by it. It softened his face, and Charlotte enjoyed the play of light in his eyes from the few beams of sunlight that danced in the trees.
His ornate robes had been abandoned, and he wore an outfit very similar to her own: form-fitted leggings in a dark grey and a silver tunic with his usual high collar. Three polished leaf buttons marched their way down the center of his chest, and then the tunic split, sweeping out around his hips and thighs. His long pale hair was unadorned today, and she briefly wondered where he stored his enormous branching crown on such journeys. He looked decidedly more approachable this way.
If only he wouldn't open his mouth.
"It is interesting," he said, his voice silky, "how you still use 'us.'"
"It's an adjustment." Charlotte turned away, leaning her head back and closing her eyes to bask in the glow of the rising sun.
"Indeed."
She peeked an eye open and found him staring at her like an extra piece to a puzzle that he didn't know what to do with.
"I've been, well, 'not mortal' for less than two weeks. I've spent my whole life being human.
"Do you remember how you passed?" He shuffled toward the bank, and gracefully folded his limbs under him.
She whirled to face him. "I didn't die."
But her mother did- her sweet mother who made her pancakes on her birthday and sang Norah Jones off-key while she dusted and hated folding laundry, so she hung it all on plastic hangers.
Charlotte tried to swallow the lump in her throat. When that failed, she took a deep, shuddering breath and stood. The jerky move splashed Thranduil.
He reached up to grasp her hand. It was warm and firm and slightly calloused where his fingers met the palm, and Charlotte felt the heat spread up her arms until it flushed her cheeks.
"I apologize." He said solemnly. "It was not my intent to upset you, and I realize now my question was insensitive."
"It's fine, really, it's not that." She bit her lip and then forced a wobbly smile, tugging her hand free in the process. She felt her heart thundering against her ribs. "I should check on…" she scrambled for a suitable answer, "my elk. He's so far from home with strangers, so I'm sure he's probably worried without me."
And she fled, as fast as her throbbing limbs would allow her, awkwardly stumbling through thickets and over fallen branches left by the storms, feeling the burn of his gaze until the trees shrouded her from view.
She spent the rest of the day avoiding him, although she frequently felt the pressure of his eyes.
Legolas was a frequent companion who was mercifully able to entertain himself. They spent the day nibbling on berries and Lembas bread, a thin square cake wrapped in leaves with a sweet taste and crumbly texture that she could sadly only manage a small bite of.
Legolas laughed at her disappointment in the way of a child who knows more than the adult, as if she were silly for thinking she could eat the whole cake.
"It's for long journeys," he said, breaking off a tiny corner and popping it into his mouth. "You only need a single bite to fill your stomach."
"What happens if you eat more than that?"
"I don't know, but Naneth..." He sighed, and Charlotte regretted asking. "It is impossible to do."
"Just you wait, Legolas," she said. "I bet you I can find someone who can eat the whole thing in one sitting."
His lips twitched. "You won't find anyone, but I accept your wager. I'll even give you until we sail west across the sea."
Charlotte laughed, ignoring the twinges of pain skittering through her abs and down her legs. "How magnanimous of you."
From then until sunset, he chased the elk around the clearing, taught her a few basic Sindarin phrases, and, thankfully, at one point in the afternoon, they curled up against the elk and napped in the sunlight. Meluieth helped her disappear to the stream three more times to soak and change her bandages, and the swelling was receding slowly.
It was one of the best days Charlotte remembered having in a long time, and she fell asleep that night with a broad smile on her face. This time, she ensured she had a blanket.
.
.
.
Mereth Nuin Giliath- The Feast of Starlight (This name isn't Tolkien-canon but came from The Hobbit movies, and it's the name the film gave to the feast Tolkien mentions during the chapter where the dwarves are imprisoned in Mirkwood. That happened around September and was likely an Autumnal Equinox celebration. I've used it as the name of the feast for the Winter Solstice because that is the longest night of the year, and it would be the perfect night to honor Varda and her stars- the night where the elves can view them for the most amount of time.)
