Thranduil coughed, rubbed the back of his neck, and vanished into the bright sunny garden, leaving Charlotte to face a raised-brow Meluieth by herself.
"Let's get you cleaned up," was all the elleth said, and she sat Charlotte down to help her comb through her long, tangled hair. As she worked the knots, the elleth quietly whispered, "I'm so relieved you are well. When they took you…" And then she fell silent once again.
Charlotte reached back to squeeze her hand, and pretended to ignore the wobbling in Meluieth's laugh when the elleth said, "You said I would be the handful, and it seems to be the other way around."
"Technically, I am completely innocent," Charlotte said. "Mostly." Her mind was well aware that it had come down to her life or the orc's, and she didn't regret fighting for her life. But it was different. Talking about defending herself didn't encapsulate the horror that came with feeling another being's life draining through her fingers, and the more she thought about it, the more guilt and hatred warred within her. She despised the orc. She loathed that he stole that sense of innocence she'd long taken for granted. Her body flushed with heat, and she ground her teeth. Why her anyway? It couldn't have been because she escaped from them on the plains before Imladris. It would be ridiculous to track one measly elleth over a hundred miles, through mountains and marshlands, just because she escaped their dinner fire.
Her mind kept replaying it over and over. There had to be a reason, right? She shivered. If there was no logical reason for her attack, it could happen again, no matter what she did. She felt the floor sway underneath her.
"How much farther to these Dark Mountains?" Charlotte asked through bloodless lips.
"You look a bit pale." Meluieth kneeled before her and took her charge's face in her soft hands. "Perhaps you should rest a bit longer."
"What are they like? The Dark Mountains?"
"It's hard to explain. It's a temporary home, but you didn't hear that from me."
"Is it a secret?"
"What it implies is a secret," she winked, "but I hear everything. I have a feeling you'll know soon enough."
No amount of questioning would get Meluieth to reveal any more, and once Charlotte changed into a fresh tunic and leggings, they joined Beorn and Thranduil for breakfast at the enormous oak table. There was minimal talk during the morning. The cocoon that enveloped Charlotte and Thranduil during the night dissipated, and other than hesitant greetings, they didn't speak to each other. Meluieth, observant as always, quickly picked up on the tension and was content to let it play out, leaving the house achingly silent. Charlotte felt her mood darkening with every minute, and eventually, even Beorn grew antsy.
"Come," he said to Charlotte, "You owe me a tale, and the gardens are beautiful. Take a walk with me."
At first, Beorn quietly escorted her through his extensive gardens without asking for any input from her. He pointed out each plant species, told her their names and when he planted them. Roses were popular in his landscaping, and he had many breeds and colors, ranging from pearl to pale pink, and the deep burgundy she'd spoken of to Thranduil in the safety of the night. The huge bees flitted from bloom to bloom, and she was certain to keep a healthy distance from them. The skin-changer's devotion to horticulture was evident, though Charlotte quickly lost track of all of the names he provided.
"I know what you carry," he said as they passed beyond the hedges that encircled his home. Tall golden grass stretched almost to the horizon, and in the distance, a blue-grey smudge was visible: the Greenwood.
"The first one is hard," he continued, his eyes traveling his domain. "The second is easier, and after a long while, you don't even think about it much."
Charlotte remained silent. Thranduil's presence during the night kept her distracted, but with the silence throughout the morning, she'd been left to her thoughts and quickly fell into melancholy.
Her mind was whirling from one moment to the next, watching a memory stream that skipped and froze. One moment, she felt the weight of the body on her, and then time was barreling forward, and blood was waterfalling through her shaking fingers. She felt fragile enough to snap, all her strength temporarily sapped. Charlotte knew, deep down, that she would rally, but at that moment, she didn't want to. She didn't have the energy to pull herself together again yet.
Beorn studied her from under his bushy brows. "If you can help it, save yourself from the apathy that forms. You saved your own life."
"Is that what you did?"
"I avenged lives," he said. He stood proudly beside her. "Once, there were many of my kind, high in the Misty Mountains. If others are remaining besides myself, I have not found them. You and I are alone in the world. The only of our kind."
"There are other elves," she said quietly. It hurt to hear the truth that had been bouncing around her heart for weeks.
"Thranduil has told me your tale," he scratched his beard. "You're a mortal in an immortal's body, and I see your fëa; it's different. You may be some variation of an elf. Like the many roses you've seen here, all of them are roses, and yet each is unique. Your light is not the same as the elves you travel with."
It wasn't the first time she'd heard that. Amroth had made a similar comment during Elrond and Celebrían's wedding feast. Her stomach knotted. "Does that mean something is wrong with it?"
Beorn harrumphed. "Did I say 'wrong?' I said, 'different.' Don't confuse the two."
"Sorry."
"You apologize too much."
"Any other critiques while you're at it?" She was starting to feel feisty.
That got a smirk from the huge man. "There it is. Nice healthy glow. Like a little firefly. Keep it burning."
And with that, Beorn stomped off without a goodbye and left her standing at the edge of the field. Just as she was about to follow him, she spotted horses in the distance, coming up to the house from the south.
She ran inside, calling, "Thranduil! Meluieth! They're here!"
Thranduil sprung from bed, where he'd been polishing the blade of his sword, and was out the door before she could say more. Meluieth was nearly right behind him, and that left Charlotte to escort Berior through the large double doors in the front of the house.
She'd hardly taken a step into the afternoon sun when she was barreled over by a tiny blond sobbing blur. Her butt landed hard on the packed dirt walkway, and her arms came reflexively around the elfing who had tackled her.
"Legolas, ion nin," Thranduil came running around the hedge and froze when he saw them cuddled in the dirt together. "I said to wait for me. You must be gentle with her."
"I thought you were gone forever!" Legolas cried. Tears soaked his cheeks, and Charlotte's tunic was growing damp. "I thought you left, and I was all alone, and you were gone!"
Thranduil's mouth was agape, his eyes glassy, before he promptly snapped his jaw shut and hesitantly approached the quaking Legolas. He paused in front of them, lifted his hand, and dropped it to his side. She could see his fingers clenching and releasing.
"I'm alright, Legolas," Charlotte said gently. She used the long sleeves of her tunic to wipe his tears away and then rocked the little elfing in her lap. "I'm here. I missed you too."
"Amroth said you'd been captured by yrch," he hiccuped, "and Adar was missing, and you both didn't come back." Fresh tears welled and crashed over his lashes, and his nose was running over his lips. Face scrunched, he pressed himself into her shoulder and shook and sobbed.
"Shhh," Charlotte rocked him. "It was scary, I know. We're all okay, I promise. Your Adar is safe, and I'm safe, and Berior is safe."
Charlotte felt her heart shattering. She had been worried for him and the others, but she never expected such a strong reaction from Legolas. Why wasn't Thranduil saying something? Why wouldn't he comfort his son?
Thranduil stood wide-eyed, two-feet in front of them. A porcelain statue.
Her stomach dropped to her feet when she realized it. All the pieces had been there. Nemir and Legolas lived in the Havens, and Thranduil ruled the Greenwood on the other side of the mountains. It was taking them a month to get from Imladris to Eryn Galen. How much farther was it from the Havens? Legolas had even mentioned visiting once. Once. Singular.
Thranduil didn't know how to comfort his son.
She tried not to jump to conclusions. Legolas was twenty-two. How had he only seen him one time in two decades? They had to have seen each other more than once, right?
She needed to focus, needed to get past the whirling sensation in her head. Legolas. He needed someone right now. It was no wonder he felt so utterly alone. Her chest was burning, mingling with her pain, and it took her a moment to realize the necklace was glowing. She slapped her hand over it, panic swelling inside her, but Legolas stopped her with a gentle hand over hers.
"Please, don't stop," he sniffled. "It feels like your fëa is hugging mine."
How could she stop it now? Instead, she tried to pour more of herself into it, but she couldn't tell if it was working, and Legolas didn't seem to react any differently. His breathing deepened, his shaking subsided, and he hesitantly looked up at her.
"You're really okay?" Legolas sniffled. He peeked at her with watery eyes, and she fought to give him her brightest smile. Thranduil pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Legolas to wipe his face.
"I promise."
"Who's Berior?"
The elk, hearing his name, nudged the back of Legolas's head, stirring the elfing's hair with great puffs from his nose and earning a watery giggle.
"Legolas," Charlotte grinned and waved to the nuzzling elk, "meet Berior."
"You named him?" Legolas was out of her arms in an instant, and, at first, she was worried she upset him again until she saw his broad smile and his two perfect dimples. "It's perfect! It's not Limlug, but he doesn't look like a Limlug anyway."
Amroth strolled through the opening in the hedges and greeted them with, "Who doesn't look like a limlug?"
Legolas laughed and rubbed his little hands through Berior's fur. "Charlotte's elk. She named him Berior."
"A good strong name for a fearless protector." Amroth nodded sagely and turned to study Charlotte. His eyes roamed from her head to her toes before he issued another curt nod. "I'm glad to see you well, my lady."
"Thank you."
"Thranduil," he said, not taking his eyes off her. "The lord and lady were hoping for a word with you. Perhaps young Legolas would like to get his pack at the same time. I've heard Beorn has extended the invitation for him to stay in the house tonight."
Thranduil scrubbed a hand down his weary face before he summoned Legolas with a wave. "Come, Legolas, let us see what the Lord and Lady desire from us now."
"Do I have to?"
"A prince always obeys his king's orders."
Legolas dropped his chin toward his chest and frowned. Charlotte couldn't stand to see him shuffling morosely behind his adar so soon after his upset. She spoke without thinking, "Would you like to go for a ride on Berior after? If your adar is okay with it?"
The elfling brightened instantly. "Oh, please, Adar? I'll be very safe, and Charlotte will be with me the whole time, and Berior is a good elk and—"
Charlotte bit her lip. She probably should've checked with Thranduil before suggesting it, in case he didn't want Legolas on a behemoth elk. Thranduil, however, was barely containing his laughter.
"Settle, ion nin," he said. His twinkling eyes met Charlotte's. "We'll all go. Charlotte still owes me a question."
Charlotte searched her brain. Had he not asked all three of his questions the night before? Had she asked all of hers? Berior's tears had distracted them from their makeshift game, but it seemed Thranduil had, of course, not forgotten. If she remembered correctly, he still owed her a question too, and, looking at Legolas following his adar, she knew exactly what she wanted to ask.
Amroth's palm appeared before her. "May I help you up?"
She grasped his warm hand, and he tugged her to her feet. She could count each of his long eyelashes, and it made her stomach churn, so she pulled her hand free under the guise of dusting herself off and moved to sit on Beorn's porch steps. Amroth settled on the stair beside her, close enough that she could feel the heat off his clothes.
"Has Beorn been hospitable?" He asked.
"He's been very kind."
"Beorn was kind to someone?" He frowned in disbelief. "You weave magic wherever you go then."
That made Charlotte squirm. Had her necklace played a role in Beorn's generosity? She plucked the innocent-looking stone from her chest and studied it. It was warm from her body but lacked the pulsing heat she felt whenever it activated.
Amroth nudged her with his shoulder. "You. Not your necklace. Even Thranduil seems borderline friendly."
She frowned and picked at the hem of her tunic, wondering how long Amroth had known Thranduil. "Was he always so…"
"Tempestuous?"
"I was going to say 'distant.'"
"Thranduil may appear that way, at first." On each side of the stairs were halves of wine barrels exploding with deep blue flowers. Amroth ran his finger down the petal of one, smearing golden pollen from the stamens until it looked like a galaxy trapped in the star-shaped bloom. "We have these in the thousands in Lórinand. They're larger than these, but they blanket the forest floor until the sun warms their petals, and then they stretch wide and glow. Even a dwarf would stop to admire the rivers of gold and silver Elanor that flow through Lórinand."
"It sounds beautiful," she said, and she meant it.
"You could see it if you'd like to?" He turned his eyes on her. "You don't have to go to Eryn Galen. That first night in Imladris, you were quite clear you didn't want to go with Thranduil. His people aren't like the elves you met in Lord Elrond's house."
She squeezed her hands together. Amroth made it sound worse than Celebrían had shared. "Celebrían said they were more..." she fought to remember the word her new friend had used, "passionate."
"Wild might be more appropriate," he said. He'd plucked one of the tiny blue flowers and was spinning the short stem between his thumb and forefinger. "Thranduil and I both lead Silvan elves, but, under my father, our people saw great advancements. Thranduil's father adopted the Silvan ways largely out of spite, from my understanding."
"Thranduil mentioned him last night. It sounded like his people adored him."
"Oh, they do," he started to say before turning to her with knotted brows. "Thranduil spoke to you of Oropher? I think that's likely the first time he's spoken his father's name in a hundred years. Your miracles are endless."
"Technically," she said, squirming and flushed, "he didn't use his father's name. This is the first time I've heard it."
"Hopefully, it's the last you hear of him," he grumbled.
"You don't like him?"
"I consider myself a friend of Thranduil's, despite his grumpy exterior, but his adar is not an elf I would want you to meet."
Berior stomped twice, impatient with waiting, and he flopped at the base of the stairs with his head resting on the first step. She reached down to pet his long face. "We'll go for that ride soon," she said, before turning back to Amroth with a frown. "Why don't you like his adar?"
Amroth's nostrils flared. "He killed my adar."
She froze, her hand still on the elk's nose. Berior's long pink tongue slipped out to lick her wrist. "What happened?" Before she rushed on, "I'm sorry, don't answer that. It was insensitive."
"You need not apologize." His sigh seemed to pull all the air from his body. "It was over a century ago."
Legolas came bounding out the front door and nearly tripped over them in his haste. Amroth caught him as he tumbled, standing and spinning the elfing under his arm while Legolas cheered. Any evidence of Amroth's upset had vanished as if they hadn't been talking at all.
Berior looked at her with wide sad eyes, and she smoothed her fingers across his face. Cold seeped into her chest. Over a hundred years, and both Thranduil and Amroth still visibly grieved for their fathers. What hope did she have? What would her grief look like in a century? Her brain throbbed against her skull. The idea of century after century of sorrow twisted her stomach— one hundred years in a world where her mother never existed. Nobody knew anything about Charlotte from Virginia here. Only what Charlotte told them. Her history was blank to them before she showed up in Imladris; her entire life virtually erased with her mother's.
"Charlotte?" Legolas gently placed her hand on her arm. "Your fëa is flickering again. Are you alright?"
"She'll be fine." Thranduil was pulling his cloak around his shoulders as he stepped out behind her. He pulled the massive doors that lead into Beorn's dining room until they thudded closed and then turned to Amroth. "Beorn has arranged for rooms for the Lord and Lady, as well as yourself should you wish it."
"Excellent," Amroth said. "Celeborn has been anxious about his wife being exposed since the attack. I'll inform them and meet you in the hall after we're settled. Enjoy your ride." He dipped his head to all of them and quietly said to Charlotte, "Consider my offer."
Thranduil was frowning at his friend's back, but asked Charlotte, "Are you sure you still wish to ride? Berior looks tired."
And he did. The elk still rested his jaw on the bottom stair, gazing vacantly at the cask of blue pimpernels. Legolas plopped in front of him and rubbed his hands through Berior's fur.
"He's not sick, is he?"
"I don't think so," Charlotte said, and she looked at Thranduil. Elks were a symbol of the Greenwood, according to the elves. It was the reason they insisted she was destined to help Thranduil's people. Surely the king of the Greenwood would know whether Berior was showing signs of illness.
"Adar?" Legolas had come to the same conclusion and pleaded his Adar with wide, hopeful eyes. "Can you check Berior?"
"Legolas, I'm not—" he froze, rubbed his forehead, and sighed. "I will examine him."
Thranduil made a good showing. He checked Berior's enormous split hooves, ran his hands through the elk's fur, and asked, "Have you eaten anything you shouldn't have?"
Despite the complete ineffectiveness of his exam, Berior perked, and Charlotte swore that, if elks could grin, Berior would be beaming with laughter. His silver eyes danced with amusement, and he pulled his head up.
"You did it, Adar!"
Thranduil masked his surprise quickly and smiled, "Of course, I did." He winked at Charlotte, before asking Berior, "Are you ready then?"
Thranduil helped Legolas mount, and then Charlotte climbed on behind him and secured him with an arm around his stomach. Her fingers tightened around Legolas's stars on the reins as Berior lurched to his hooves. They made an unusual group leaving Beorn's garden, with Charlotte and Legolas atop the massive elk and Thranduil walking beside them.
Thranduil's horse, Belegroch, waited beyond the hedges, held in place by a familiar elf on horseback.
"Allow me to introduce you to Ellavorn," Thranduil said. "He is the Captain of the Guard of Eryn Galen."
Charlotte nodded but didn't say anything at first. She recognized this elf from somewhere and hesitated to imply she'd forgotten him, though she had. His bow slung across his back, and a sword hung at his hip. She could just see the top of a dagger peeking out from his boot, and he would've looked menacing if not for the wide easy grin on his face.
"It's an honor to ride with you, my lady," the elf said. His smile grew mischievous. "Meluieth is very fond of you, and threatened to cut off the tips of my ears if anything happens to you, so try not to attract any trouble today, please."
Charlotte laughed. She remembered him now, the elf who had loaded her meager belongings as they prepared to depart Imladris. The one Meluieth had so happily bossed around. "We can't have that," she said. "I'll do my best to prevent random orcs from attempting to eat me for dinner."
Ellavorn darted a glance at his king, but Thranduil ushered the party onward. "We need to get moving if we're going to be back before sunset," he said and nudged Belegroch into a trot.
They spent a few leisurely hours alternating between racing through the fields around Beorn's rustic estate and plodding along the Anduin River. When they were tired of it, the party sprawled in the shade of a cluster of beech and crab apple trees by the river, shielded from the afternoon sun, and ate slices of Beorn's sweet bread and handfuls of nuts that Thranduil had the foresight to bring along for the ride.
Belegroch ended the trip early after discovering the ground was littered with crab apples and attempted to devour as many as possible before being led away. Luckily, Thranduil stopped him before he could eat more than two, but had to keep a firm hold on the reins to prevent Belegroch from wandering back to the green fruit.
"If you eat more than that, you'll feel miserable," Thranduil chastised while his gray-dappled horse gazed longingly at the juicy orbs tempting him from the grass ocean.
"We should be going anyway." Ellavorn was already tidying the last of the food and trying to erase the evidence of their presence. "Sun's getting low. We should get back to Beorn's before dark."
"Why before dark?" Charlotte asked.
"It's safe enough during the day to move about, but the orcs can travel at night." Ellavorn studied the twisting trees on the other side of the Anduin. "Sometimes, they creep along during the day if it's dark enough from a storm or thick tree coverage."
She did not want them to be alone in the fields when the sun vanished. If the others detected the urgency behind her movements, they said nothing, and they were quickly mounted and careening for Beorn's house. The horses, having picked up on her anxiety and pushed by Berior's great strides, made it to Beorn's estate just as the magical hour of soft orange and pink sunlight began. The elves had set up camp between the house and the promise of the Greenwood in the distance, and she could see the first of the fires flickering to life as they approached.
Thranduil dismounted outside the hedges and sent Belegroch with Ellavorn to be cooled down and fed, and then he led Berior with his two charges into the courtyard.
With his Adar's help, Legolas was off and running into the house with a shouted, "I can't wait to tell Amroth! He said elks are slower than horses, but Berior is much faster than Belegroch!"
Charlotte chuckled and turned so she could slide down Berior's side, when Thranduil asked, "May I assist you down?"
She nodded and rotated her left leg over Berior's rump. Warm hands slid over her hips, and Thranduil's fingers tightened gently on her sides as he guided her down until her feet touched the dirt path. She turned in his grip, hands resting against his arms, and craned her head back to meet his silver eyes. His body radiated heat and caused a flush to spread across her cheeks and neck. She leaned into his scent, vanilla and oak and leather. His thumbs grazed her sides, burned through the thick tunic she wore, and his silver hair, burnished gold by the sunset, fell over his shoulders like a curtain, sheltering them from the outside world.
Her heart was pounding against its cage, so hard she swore he had to feel it. What the hell was happening to her?
"You still owe me a question," he whispered.
Her hands tightened on his arms, feeling the muscles bunching beneath his tunic. "You still owe me one," she breathed.
"Mhmm," he pressed closer. Berior shifted behind her. Thranduil's tunic was soft beneath her sliding hands as they rose over his arms until they settled on his chest. His heart beat wildly under her fingers. "And what would my lady ask of me?"
She mentally stumbled. He wanted a question from her? Now? Her mind disconnected from her tongue, and she blurted out, "What happened with you and Nemir?"
It was as effective as dumping ice water over him. His hands dropped, and he stepped back from her. His eyes had fallen shut, and his mouth twisted in pain. "It's a long tale." He sighed, and then his mesmerizing eyes were on her again. "Would you like to walk with me?"
She found herself meandering through Beorn's gardens for the second time that day, with Thranduil at her side and Berior strolling behind them. Thranduil was quiet at first, and she wasn't going to push him to answer a question she was already regretting.
"I think," he said, his eyes on the pink horizon, "that to explain everything, I must first explain how elves mate."
"Amroth explained some of it," Charlotte crossed her arms to ward off the growing chill in the air. "Elves have a hroa and fëa, or a body and a spirit, and elves can bond their fëa together, like Lord Elrond and Celebrían."
"Did he mention that those bonds can never be broken?"
He had not, though, in hindsight, it made sense that it would be impossible to separate two souls once they merged. "So, you are both stuck together forever?" But that couldn't be right. She remembered the argument Thranduil had with Nemir in the stables. Nemir had said she had bonded with someone else. "Can you bond twice?" Charlotte asked.
"You can, under very particular circumstances," he said, "Though they do not matter since Nemir and I never bonded."
"It may surprise you," he continued, "considering we have Legolas. Elves do not have elfings outside of a marriage or bond, not because we lack relations with each other, but because the creation of an elfling requires the will of both parents. It cannot be done accidentally; it requires strength and energy from our fëa. It took much longer to beget Legolas than it would have for a bonded or married couple, and we were relieved when it happened. We didn't hate each other then. We were two elves doing our duty for our kingdom."
Charlotte put the pieces together quickly. What was uncommon in his world was not unusual in hers. "A betrothal. Between Nemir's kingdom and yours?"
He glanced at her, his dark brows raised in surprise. "Yes. My adar and hers, the High King of the Noldor, were in Imladris three years before the war. We called it the War of the Last Alliance. It was named so, because the pact made there, between the two kings, would merge the three elven lines: Sindarin, Silven, and Noldor. Nemir's mother was Silven, her father Noldor, and I offered the Sindarin lineage."
"Is this the decision?" Charlotte asked. "The one you wished your father hadn't made?"
"Yes, and no. Without it, there would be no Legolas, and there is no world I wish to walk in that does not have him in it. My father made a handful of such choices before his death."
He looked so lost to Charlotte. His downcast face was reminiscent of his son's. She tentatively reached a hand out and was relieved when he wrapped his fingers around hers and squeezed.
"Gil-galad, the High King, wished for my father to join forces with him to march against Sauron, but we had just received word of my mother's death, and he was already fighting against fading, against the wound in his fëa and the call of the sea. I know he was worried about his people. The Silvan elves are largely deprecated by the Noldor because they are descended from the first elves to abandon the journey to the west. The Sindar made it to the sea and turned back, and the Noldor crossed the sea to Valinor. Such delineations between our groups were often insurmountable, they bred discourse and violence. The history between our groups caused my father to grow more distrustful of the Noldor, and he was convinced that our people would be considered expendable."
Charlotte had not expected a history lesson when she'd asked about his relationship, but she listened patiently, occasionally rubbing her thumb across his hand to let him know she was focused.
"When the time came for negotiations between them, my adar refused to march under Gil-galad's banner. He would command his own army, and Amdír, Amroth's adar, would command the elves of Lórinand. Gil-galad accused him of being disloyal to the Valar and the free people of Middle Earth. The screaming went on for well over an hour before my father yelled that he would not march under a Noldor elf who would dismiss his people as lesser beings. He then declared that he would march to our old home, Amon Lanc, in the morning, if Gil-galad did not concede to a plan that would erase the classes between the elves. I was betrothed by contract to Nemir by sunrise, and we exchanged hastily-made rings on the steps of Elrond's house."
"I'm so sorry," she said, though it felt inadequate.
"Elves normally have a betrothal period of a year, but our contract tied us together for a century, with stipulations for two elfings: the first elfing would become the reigning monarch of Amon Lanc and the second would rule the kingdom in Lindon. Legolas is the heir to the throne in Eryn Galen, but we never attempted to beget a second elfling."
"She left after we beget Legolas," his voice cracked. "Vanished in the night, and left a letter to share the news. She dismissed me, said my task was complete, and my assistance was no longer required, relegated me to no more than a breeding animal. I followed her anyway, begged her to allow me to be by her side. She continually rebuffed me, and when she was confined to her bed early because of the stress, she would hurl her belongings at me until I was escorted from the room."
"Elflings are a great source of joy for us, and because they require a part of our fëa to create, it is physically and emotionally painful to be parted from them while they are young. And yet, I had no choice. Each day, I felt his fëa grow weaker in her womb, knew the stress I caused by my presence would cost him his life, and my people were leaderless. We had just relocated from Amon Lanc to a temporary settlement in Emyn Duir. I granted her wish and departed. I have marched to war, led my people home after it, and neither were as hard as leaving Legolas behind."
"Surely, she let you visit, right?"
Thranduil's silence was heavy, and Charlotte felt her own tears welling. They stood in the liminal space between Beorn's gardens and the vast grasslands where the host of elves were camped. She could see them dancing and hear their songs floating across the distance.
"I tried once more after he was born," he said, "and was refused. I wasn't permitted to see him until I threatened to rally my people and wage war to reclaim the heir to my kingdom. I was angry, but I never wanted him separated from his naneth. I knew the pain of being held away from my elfling. Thankfully, she conceded, and he visited for a few months during his tenth year. I saw him again in Lindon for his fifteenth year when my missives went ignored for too long. And now, we are finally reunited for good, and my fëa weeps that I have missed so much."
"I will always be haunted by the possibilities. What if I had stayed through the pregnancy? What if I had insisted he live with me instead? I find now I do not know what to say to him or how to comfort him when he's distressed. I don't know his favorite things, though I am slowly learning. And I want to hate her for it, but I cannot, because how can I hate someone who Legolas loves so dearly? How can I hate her when she is the other half which brought him into existence?"
The sun had vanished, leaving the waning moon to bathe the earth, and Charlotte thought he looked like a fallen star in the darkness. A soft glow illuminated his face as he gazed down at her, and she didn't realize it was coming from her until he cradled both her hands in his.
"Save your compassion for those who deserve it," he said. "My suffering is entirely of my own making."
"I will choose who I care for, thank you," she notched her chin up. "And the fact that you think you're undeserving of it after all you've just shared only proves how worthy of it you are."
Thranduil pulled her closer until she was pressed against him. "I know what he has offered you."
Charlotte scrunched her brows at the topic change. "Who?"
"Amroth wishes for you to join his people in Lórinand."
"I've made you a promise, Thranduil, and I won't abandon your people. I don't know what I'm supposed to do or how, but I have to try."
His shoulders sagged in relief, and for the first time since their conversation started, she saw that soft smile she was so fond of. "You had me prepared to beg, and you did not use the opportunity?"
"Perhaps another time," she laughed. "You still have a question."
His eyes studied her, and she squirmed under his gaze. When she could bear it no longer, he finally smirked. "Perhaps another time. Our host is sure to be roaming his gardens soon, and I don't relish the thought of meeting his territorial bear persona."
"Will the elves be safe out there?"
Thranduil turned her toward the house with a gallantly placed hand at her spine. "He won't bother them. They're far enough from the house, and they're neither orc nor dwarf, so he will be disinterested. He was wise enough to roam about them earlier to gather their scent, and Ellavorn was wise enough to set a rotating guard as usual."
With the safety of the others guaranteed, Charlotte allowed him to escort her to the house. Berior was still following behind them, and once inside, he walked straight past an exuberant Legolas, flopped in the corner, and appeared to fall asleep.
"Oh, dear," Charlotte said. "I think we might have exhausted him. Poor Berior."
"He'll be well in the morning," Thranduil reassured her. "Though it's best we all rest before we depart tomorrow."
Legolas immediately followed his adar's bedtime order, and the rest of the adults trickled into their beds afterward. Charlotte lay awake for hours thinking over everything she'd been told, and decided, just as she fell asleep, that she was lucky to have fallen into a world where Thranduil and Legolas existed.
.
.
.
.
AN: Thank you for your lovely comments! szynka2496, your threat of violence worked! All the reviews are visible again. Thank you. Culltravel94, I never got to tell you that your comment about Lothuial had me in stitches! Thank you all so much!
