Charlotte flung herself out of bed when she woke to the bright morning sun across her face. She hadn't overslept since she was seventeen, for goodness sake, and now she was late for training with Ellavorn. She scurried around her small room, throwing off the pale nightgown Celebrían had gifted her, and hopping around as she tried to shove her legs into leggings and throw on a clean tunic.
Her favorite oversized ones had seen a drastic decrease in use since she didn't want to risk tearing or staining them in training. Instead, she selected one that already looked worn, assuming Ellavorn would put her through hell for being late.
Finger combing her hair, she crept from her room and nearly jumped out of her skin when Haedirn said, "What did you do last night?" His teasing smile made her yank the door closed with a snap!
"Slept," She said succinctly.
"Before or after your midnight wandering?" He peeled off the wall to fall in beside her.
"Why are you asking if you already know the answer?"
"Because," Maethor sighed, "he wishes to once again remind me that I am responsible for fletching his arrows this week."
"And restringing my bow."
"And restringing his bow," Maethor sighed again and turned his betrayed eyes on her.
"You two bet," she said softly, "on whose guard I would slip past?"
"No," Haedirn was gleeful, practically bouncing on his toes, "three of us bet on who you would slip past first." He clapped Maethor on the shoulder, who bore it with dignity, and said, "But sweet, innocent, betrayed Maethor here, bet that you wouldn't try to escape our watch at all."
Maethor again turned his disappointed eyes to her, but she focused on the small nugget of information that Haedirn had likely intentionally dropped. "If Maethor wasn't one of the three betting on the guard, then who were the other two?"
"Ellavorn said you'd slip past me," Haedirn said, his smirk growing wider at her disgust, but then he frowned. "Actually, Thranduil said you'd slip past me first, as well."
"Next time, I'll aim for your rotation."
"Duly noted," Haedirn said, and gave her an extravagant bow. "Let the games begin, my lady. You'll find me an impossible elf to escape."
"I already do," Maethor deadpanned.
Charlotte laughed at Haedirn's affronted expression. "Come then, my fearless shadow," she said. "I'm late as it is, and Ellavorn will run me through training until I drop for being late. We'll swing by the kitchen for water, and you both can grab breakfast."
A bedroom door slammed down the hall, hard enough to make the dining room door rattle in its frame, and Haedirn snorted in disgust. "Guess we were too loud for the Lady Lothuial."
But as they approached the dining room, Charlotte could hear Lothuial through the door. "Our union will unite the two peoples," the elleth was saying, and Charlotte wondered what poor ellon had been trapped in a betrothal with Lothuial. "You and I will usher in a new age of prosperity and peace in the Greenwood, my king."
"The contract is prepared for your review, Thranduil," Cúthon said, his oily voice oozing down the hallway. "A wedding on Mereth Nuin Giliath; it's just what the people need. Stability and consistency are required after decades of turmoil wrought by your last… unfortunate betrothal."
Charlotte froze outside the door, her mind whirling. Thranduil. Engaged to that horrible viper? Something ugly and raw stirred in her chest. This had to be a scheme by Cúthon. She was sure Thranduil wouldn't endure it.
"Careful with your words, Cúthon," Thranduil hissed, and Charlotte straightened, waiting eagerly to hear him dismiss the contract and the betrothal. "My son is the outcome of my 'unfortunate betrothal,' as you've put it, and he has already united our peoples. And the wedding would have to occur before Mereth Nuin Giliath. That evening is for the stars and Varda alone."
The wedding. Charlotte's heart twisted painfully. He spoke as if there actually would be a wedding. She tried to picture him wedded to Lothuial and thought for sure she would vomit across the hardwood.
She shook her head. No, she would not doubt him. Not for a moment. Thranduil had already suffered through one betrothal; he would not do so again. He'd intimated on multiple occasions that he wanted the realness of a bond.
He may have no romantic interest in her, but he certainly wasn't interested in Lothuial either. Charlotte straightened her shoulders, adopting the confident persona Thranduil used as a shield, and pushed the dining room door.
Thranduil glanced up from his usual seat at the center of the long table and paled at the sight of her. Piles of scrolls and parchment were meticulously stacked around him, and a broad black feather quill was delicately perched between his graceful fingers.
Ellavorn stood behind him, his lips twisted in frustration. She guessed that this was why she wasn't forcibly dragged from bed for training after she overslept. He didn't move to collect her, so she assumed her training with him was canceled for the day.
Lothuial, unsurprisingly, was simpering beside Thranduil, and she gave Charlotte a look of vicious gloating that nearly made Charlotte sag with relief. Nobody truly confident in their position would try to scare her off with an expression like that. Cúthon was equally smug, standing at Thranduil's left side with an unrolled scroll stretched out between them. No doubt, it was the aforementioned contract.
Charlotte quirked a brow at the tableau and forced a cheerful smile on her face. "Good morning," she said simply and breezed past them all into the sanctuary of the kitchen.
Idhrenes was whirling about the room when she entered, packing away utensils and ordering barrels loaded into wagons. The back door was propped open, and the elves streamed through with great oaken barrels, ceramic pots, wooden crates, and deep woven baskets.
"Leave that one," Idhrenes said to an elf carrying a basket filled with bread. "Those are the ones for dinner tonight. The ones for the journey are packed over there."
Charlotte waited for a break in the line and approached her. "How can I help?"
"We've got it well in hand, dear," Idhrenes said and gave her a quick absentminded pat on the hand. "I appreciate your offer though. Why not sit with me a moment? I could use a break myself, and I haven't seen any of the three of you in the dining room yet today, so you'll be needing breakfast."
Once they were ensconced at a table away from the ruckus and Idhrenes had placed a heaping plate in front of each of them, the cook settled with a sigh. "Oh, I cannot wait until we are finally moved north. To not have to pack and resettle once more will be divine. Thranduil has assured me the kitchens there are more spacious than even Amon Lanc's. It will be such a relief to be able to spread out."
"They are," Haedirn said before he bit into his apple.
"You've seen them?" Idhrenes leaned forward, rested her chin in her hand, and waited patiently for Haedirn to finish chewing, her wide cinnamon eyes locked on him. Her cheeks were flushed from the kitchen's heat, and Charlotte moved to fetch her a cup of water from the workstation by the window.
Haedirn was trying frantically to both chew politely and quickly so he could answer Idhrenes and seemed to appreciate Charlotte distracting the cook by placing the water before her. Idhrenes turned her wide eyes on her and whispered a soft thank you, just as a relieved Haedirn swallowed his bite.
"As Marchwarden of the Northern Border, I'm responsible for maintaining the safety of the area around the caverns," he shrugged. "Thranduil had me examine them for weaknesses in their defenses. Maethor has seen them as well."
Charlotte felt guilty at her surprise. She had assumed Maethor was the Marchwarden of the Northern Border. Even though Thranduil had told her that Haedirn and Maethor were both excellent guards, she'd made the false assumption based on Maethor's stern countenance and Haedirn's devil-may-care attitude.
Haedirn must have caught her look because he grinned and said, "Don't let him fool you. Maethor had other responsibilities." There was a darkness to his grin that made Charlotte want to avoid asking what those other responsibilities were.
Charlotte decided a change in subject would be prudent and asked Idhrenes, "If it's not too much trouble, would you allow me to prepare a lunch for my training this afternoon with Thranduil? We'll be out in the forest, so we won't be here for the meal."
Idhrenes was oddly pleased by this and nodded. "Help yourself to whatever is still unpacked," she said. "I have only one request."
"Oh?" Charlotte asked, delighted by the elleth's eagerness.
"You're going to show me how you cook those pumpkin seeds."
"You must've read my mind," Charlotte laughed. "That's one of the things I was going after."
Idhrenes's eagerness reminded Charlotte of Legolas as she taught the cook how to roast the seeds until they were perfectly golden brown and warm. She did the first batch while Idhrenes watched, and Idhrenes spent the time showing her the best way to cook over the hearth without burning herself. At one point, Charlotte's loose curls swung low over the flames, and only Idhrenes's quick actions kept her hair from being singed.
"After this batch is finished," the cook said, still holding Charlotte's hair, "we're braiding this."
Charlotte blushed, wishing she'd taken a moment to throw her hair together, and realizing that she had been in her worst tunic and wild hair when she'd entered the dining room earlier. It was no wonder Lothuial looked smug.
She couldn't imagine the joy Lothuial would have if Charlotte had burned off her own hair. She wasn't used to it being so long. It'd been at least a foot shorter when she was human, and now it trailed down to her hips. After nearly a month of being an elf, she still had so many things to learn about her new body, not to mention her new life.
By the time the first batch was cooling on Idhrenes's workstation, Charlotte's spirits had deteriorated. She was quiet as Idhrenes directed her to one of the worn stools by the window and scrounged around for a comb. Charlotte was surprised to see her whip one from a ceramic pot in the corner.
"Hours in a small room with a fire and fifteen other elves can make my hair puff up like a bear in winter," Idhrenes explained as she pulled the comb through Charlotte's hair. "It's nice to be able to freshen up between meals. I wash it and store it here, so I don't have to leave the kitchen unattended. Valar be blessed, these elves would burn it to the ground, I'm sure." She clucked in a way that said she didn't really believe they couldn't manage without her.
Charlotte smiled weakly, trying not to shake as she felt the soothing motion of Idhrenes's soft hands combing through her hair. When was the last time someone combed her hair like this? Sure, Meluieth did it sometimes, but this… this was almost… maternal.
Charlotte blinked heavily at the moisture curling along her lashes. Wasn't she done crying? Hadn't she poured it all into the river with Thranduil? She took a deep, steadying breath and was supremely grateful that Haedirn and Maethor were suddenly intensely focused on the kitchen doors. Especially when Idhrenes started humming.
The tune was soft, like a lullaby, with slow, gentle notes, and a soothing melody. She squeezed her eyes closed. She could enjoy this moment, right? Her cage for her emotions had been so thoroughly decimated she knew there would be no containing the storm rolling through her, and she both cursed and praised this tiny moment for reminding her of her loss.
Her mother would hum and comb her hair just like this, decades ago when she was young enough to appreciate and cherish the help. The memory was bittersweet, and she held onto it, letting the pain and joy mingle in her heart.
This, she thought, her heart aching, this is what it is to grieve forever. She finally understood why Thranduil had said that the pain both ended and endured; understood how grief was enough to force an elf to fade.
Idhrenes was quick and efficient in pulling her hair into an intricate braid until she was left with its tail curled over her right shoulder. It was almost too quick for Charlotte's liking. She'd wanted to savor the moment for as long as possible, and just like all the other beautiful moments in her life, it was gone nearly as soon as it arrived.
"Beautiful," the elleth said and patted Charlotte's shoulders.
Charlotte's voice was hoarse as she thanked her, and Idhrenes smiled softly, her eyes filled with shared pain and understanding. "The seeds should be cool enough to eat," the elleth said. "Let's try them, and then we can pack some for your lunch today."
An hour later, Charlotte left a gleeful Idhrenes standing over the third batch of pumpkin seeds. By that point, most of the kitchen elves were munching on the roasted seeds as they worked, and even Maethor and Haedirn had taken a small handful to snack on while she rushed back to her room to switch out of her worn tunic.
Idhrenes had shown her the braid with a small mirror from her stash, and Charlotte had quickly decided that Idhrenes's work was too beautiful to waste on a training tunic.
She'd debated on utilizing one of Celebrían's gifted gowns but quickly dismissed it. Thranduil had heavily implied that they would be training in the forest, and she couldn't imagine fighting, or whatever else Thranduil had planned, in long flowing skirts. Groaning, she realized Ellavorn would eventually conclude that she'd need to know how to fight in any outfit, and he'd start training her in her gowns as well. Until then, she'd wear whatever she wanted, so she gently maneuvered the training tunic off and slid one of her borrowed, oversized ones on.
When she opened the door, she was surprised to find Thranduil already waiting for her. Like her, he'd changed his earlier attire and, though there was an elaborateness to the design, he was dressed like any other Woodland elf in a long-sleeved tunic and leggings. Daggers hung from his hips, and a bow was strapped across his back.
He seemed hesitant, cautious, around her, and where he would normally offer his arm to escort her, he only said, "Shall we?"
Charlotte gnawed her lip with worry as they crossed the sweeping lawns and tracked over the dirt pathways to the main gate. Maybe she'd been overconfident? Was Thranduil actually entertaining the idea of a marriage with Lothuial? Cúthon had promised him consistency for his people with the merger, and Charlotte's stomach twisted as she remembered Thranduil's insistence on supplying the same thing for Legolas. Would he sacrifice himself again for his people's peace of mind?
She chastised herself for thinking it. She'd said earlier that she wasn't going to doubt him in that regard, though she wasn't entirely sure why the idea of him and Lothuial together bothered her so much. Sure, she could admit that she was attracted to him, and sometimes she considered him a friend, but it wasn't as if he was her… well, anything other than a sometimes-friend.
Her eyes roamed his smooth face as they walked side-by-side, and she felt her heart beat faster. Okay, she was very attracted to him. Who wouldn't be? He had a plush mouth and beautiful smiles, and she loved the way his lips twitched when he found something funny. His dry wit and playful personality were endearing, and honestly, his deep voice felt like velvet across her skin. She'd listen to him read a grocery list with rapt attention.
The same voice dragged her from her thoughts when he said, "Are you feeling well? You look flushed." Thranduil's silver eyes were filled with concern. "We can do this another day if you're still worn out from yesterday."
She cleared her throat and tried to force her cheeks to cool. "No, I'm well. I mean, I'm feeling fine, thank you."
Berior and Belegroch were waiting at the gate alongside Maethor and Haedirn's chestnut stallions, and Charlotte took her chance to escape his questioning by climbing onto Berior's back.
Once she was settled, she adjusted the satchel that held their lunch and ran her fingers through Berior's fur. "I thought elks thickened their coats around winter?" She asked Thranduil. Berior's hair was thinner than before, and she worried he would soon look patchy. How would he stay warm this winter? Was all this traveling and stress too much for him?
"They do," Thranduil said, and he eyed her elk with concern. "He could still be recovering from the illness. We'll have Rocher examine him again."
Charlotte leaned down and whispered to Berior, "Would you like to stay here and rest? The stables are warmer, and I could get you a blanket and something to eat?"
But Berior stubbornly shook his great head and stomped the ground. It was clear he would not let her leave the gates without him.
"Alright, but if you start to look worse, I'm dragging you home."
Thranduil's head jerked to stare at her in surprise.
"What?" She asked.
He shook his head, wiping the expression from his face and urging Belegroch onward, and the party fell in behind him. The small group rode for an hour, heading north along the Tithenduin, and Charlotte couldn't help but think about the last time they'd made this journey. They gave the water a wide berth as they passed under the arms of the pines and beeches.
Winter was creeping up slowly on them. Already the air was crisp and tingled the tips of her ears and nose. It wouldn't be long before the weather turned biting, and she wondered if Middle Earth saw snow during the season. Part of her hoped not, since the clothes she wore were the thickest she owned. Elves could tolerate a greater spectrum of temperatures, so she doubted they had anything resembling a thick winter coat. She would be the weird elleth buried under layers of cloaks come winter.
When Thranduil finally stopped the party, they were in a clearing just slightly east of the river, close enough that they could still hear the water bubbling over the stones, but far enough away that she couldn't see it through the trees.
Maethor and Haedirn vanished into the canopy without a word, the satchels of food Charlotte had packed for them swinging against their hips. She slid from Berior's back and left him to settle in the grass. When she turned, Belegroch had already wandered off to find something palatable, and Thranduil had stretched himself out on the grass and leaves with his head tilted back so the afternoon sun could warm his face. His silvery hair looked striking against the faded copper and gold leaves that carpeted the forest.
"So," she said, twisting her hands and staring at him, "what will we be learning today?"
He patted the ground beside him, his eyes still blissfully closed and said, "Sit."
She gently folded herself, shifting against the crackling leaves, and waited. Thranduil was silent, peaceful, for a moment, and she squirmed, wondering if he would ever speak. His mouth twitched, and his dark lashes fluttered against his cheeks, but her impatience didn't sway him. Finally, he said, "It's been far too long since I have simply enjoyed being in the forest."
Charlotte didn't know what to say to that, so she picked up a leaf and twirled its dry brown stem between her fingers, watching the colors of the leaf shift as it spun. Thranduil seemed content in the silence, and even Berior stretched his rear legs out and got comfortable.
She tried to settle herself, tried to rest in the silence as they did, but the more she forced it, the more she felt itchy all over. Her eyes darted down. Were there bugs all over her? Nope. Her foot bounced. Why had he brought her out here?
Thranduil grabbed her hand, and she whipped around to stare at him. His silver eyes had crinkled in amusement. "Calm yourself, sink down into your fëa," he said as if it were the easiest thing in the world, and perhaps, for him, it was.
Her foot stilled. He'd finally given her an action, something she could do. She pulled her light to the surface almost instantly, and Thranduil smiled proudly at her effort. "You're nearly there," he said and pulled his own brilliant fëa to fill the clearing. The majesty of their joined light was slightly diminished in the bright afternoon sun, but she still savored the way his golden glow caressed her glittering fëa in a powerful dance.
"Breathe in the forest," Thranduil whispered. She wasn't sure what he meant though. She took a deep breath, smelling the sharp pines and the damp soil. Thranduil chuckled at her efforts and gently added, "Feel the life around you with your fëa. Reach out and touch the pines' rough bark, crawl deep beneath the soil to where the roots reach for sustenance, feel their grasping boughs warming in the sun."
She could picture it so easily, the exact way his soft voice described it, could feel the squirrels preparing their winter nest in the upper limbs of a mighty beech, touch the scars from the stag horns on the bark. Deep below her, worms wiggled through the dirt, looping around roots and rocks and loosening the soil just as the trees delved further.
And then she could see herself, spread out beneath the barren canopy beside Thranduil, and Berior's golden fëa beamed at her as well. She scrunched her brow at it, taking in the small grey center. Maybe he really was sick. She resolved to take him to Rocher when they got back.
Thranduil's warm hand clasped hers, and he murmured, "Focus. You're doing so well. Stretch out your awareness and fly with me." There was a gentle, alluring tug on her fëa, and she smiled as she realized it was Thranduil.
Following the call of his soul, she reached out and found herself whipping through the forest beside his fëa, all on her own. It was enthralling. He led her through caves of furry brown bears, past burrows filled with long-eared rabbits, into a herd of mighty elk nearly the size of Berior, and north, pouncing from one tree to the next until he dove both of them into a wide rushing river.
"The forest river," his voice sounded in her mind. The sensation was jolting and followed by his deep laugh. "Think about what you wish to say and push it toward me."
She focused intently, mischief twinkling in her fëa, and he heard, "Brains are private places, in case you didn't know." Charlotte worried after she said it that he could see the swirls of emotion that erupted when she thought of him. She tried to shuffle them away but went too hard too quickly and fell back into her body. Her brain felt scrambled, and she groaned and closed her eyes against the spinning sensation. Thranduil followed more gracefully.
"I cannot read your thoughts as Galadriel can," he said, once her brain had settled. "Mind-to-mind communication can only be done between two willing minds, and you'll find few elves understand or have the power to initiate it. There are only four currently in Middle Earth, including myself, capable of performing the feat: Elrond, Galadriel, and Celeborn are the others. With your power, I hope to teach it to you as it was once taught to me."
"Who taught you?" She asked though she had a good idea.
"Elrond during the war," his eyes dimmed as he traveled through his memories. "It was excellent for battle strategy, and we'd perfected communicating over greater distances each day. It was how I was able to warn him…" He fell silent, and she could see an echo of grief in his gaze. "But enough of that. I brought you out here to work on connecting to your abilities. You've nearly mastered dimming and unveiling your fëa. Now we need to determine the catalyst for the stone in your necklace. Start with the last time it activated. What were you thinking about just before?"
Charlotte thought back to the frantic moments where Thranduil had been lost to the pain of his past, the agony etched in his face, her heart's desperate desire for him to come back to her. "I wanted you to be free from your pain," she said. "I wanted you to come back."
Thranduil nodded thoughtfully, "And what about with Legolas?"
Legolas. She'd wanted to calm him, to soothe his sorrow. She said as much to Thranduil, and he frowned as he worked it over in his mind. "Try activating it now using that. Make yourself want something strongly."
"What would I want though?" She asked. She could think of a hundred things, but none she truly believed the necklace would supply: her mother alive being the head of the list. A way home. Her mind halted at that. Did she want to go home?
"Try Berior," he suggested. "You've been worried he's falling ill: want him to feel better, stronger; want his fur to grow thick and warm for winter."
She kneeled in front of the elk, who watched her warily with his full grey eyes, and focused on her desire: she wanted him to grow healthy, wanted his fur to thicken into a rich, heavy, winter coat. He blinked at her, studying her intently, but no hair sprouted, her necklace didn't light, and the tell-tale heat was absent.
"It's not working," she told Thranduil.
"I see that," he sighed and started pacing. "I was certain it was activated by your thoughts at the moment."
She didn't bother telling him that she'd already tried something similar. Berior nudged her necklace with his nose, and she sighed, rubbing her fingers down his long face. "I know," she said, "I wish I could've helped you."
"None of this makes sense," Thranduil said.
Charlotte hesitated before she said, "Maybe we're working on the wrong end of this?"
"What do you mean?"
"We're so focused on my ability to heal it that we never thought to ask questions about the elves who've recovered."
Thranduil froze, knowing what was coming next.
"Thranduil," Charlotte asked gently, "what do you remember?"
He sighed and dropped beside her. Berior's eyes flicked back and forth between them. "It was as if I had been transported over a hundred years into the past. I woke, and I didn't remember you or the elves or even what day it was, and then my adar was there, as real as you are now. I swore I could feel him. I had remembered he'd died, but to me, it had been days before. The agony felt like being ripped apart by wargs." He pinched his eyes closed. "The worst part was, after you healed me, I was still thankful because I got to see him just once more."
Charlotte turned over his words, trying to tie together the connection her brain was attempting to make. He'd said something… she couldn't put her finger on what, but something had resonated with her. "What about the stars?" She asked, while her mind tried to force the pieces to fit. "You mentioned 'weeping stars.'"
"I did?" He tilted his head thoughtfully. "I do not remember, but the others, the elves in the healing house, they mentioned 'weeping stars' as well."
Berior cried out, and they both turned to him. The elk leaned deliberately forward and pushed against the stone with his nose.
"I wish this thing would let me understand you," Charlotte grumbled. "Of course, I'd still have to get it to work, and if I could do that, there wouldn't be a growing mound of forgetful elves." She looked over to Thranduil and found him pale and staring at her.
"Your mother," he whispered, shock etched in his wide eyes.
Charlotte instantly tensed. "What about her?"
"You said she forgot things: dates, people, events," he insisted.
"Yes, and?"
"And we forgot one moment when your stone activated. One moment where no one was affected by its magic."
Charlotte felt the blood drain from her face. "In the river. That night with you," she stumbled out, horror mounting in her chest.
"You were crying," he whispered, "over your mother's death."
Her heart thundered in her chest, and she felt the bile burning in her throat. What had she done? "I enchanted the river," she breathed. "The elves are showing my mother's worst symptoms. I'm the weeping stars."
The trees around her spun. Dimly, she heard Berior call out over the rushing in her ears. She'd cursed them. Thranduil's people. They were suffering now because of her. And she had no idea how to fix it.
AN: I can't apologize enough for being away for a month; I've missed all of you so much! Life hit, and I normally try to finish writing a new chapter before posting a previously completed chapter, but I stayed up to edit and post this because it's been so long since the last posting. I'm so thrilled you all are loving their interactions! There's more to come and more Charlotte and Legolas and Charlotte and Idhrenes as well! Thank your for your lovely comments! I hope to have a new chapter out to you soon!
Aquarius Black: Thank you! The plural versions have been driving me crazy! Before everything went south, I went back and read all the books trying to find the plural version and searched through the elven dictionaries I was using and couldn't find it. I am super grateful for your comment and the resource! It led me to a few additional resources as well and I've learned a lot about turning Sindarin nouns into plural forms. (I agree with you, "ellith" seems to be the best plural version of "elleth.") I'll be working on updating the story to reflect that new knowledge! Also: thank you so much for your kindness in your comment! I've been on some scathing message boards reaming authors for incorrect Elvish, so I really appreciate your compassion. :)
