Charlotte set the feather quill on her small writing desk and stretched her back. Though the letters were scratchy and wobbly, they were legible, and she would be able to send them as soon as the last missive dried.
She stood, pulling the dressing gown tighter around her frame and pacing to the window where the midmorning sun peeked through. Waterfalls rumbled in the distance, feeding the river carving through the mountain below and adding to the chill of the smooth rock beneath her bare feet. She usually would shy away from the cold, but the biting against her skin centered her, and she craved focus and concentration. Her mind was foggy and dim, like she wasn't looking out of her own glassy eyes but instead curled behind the darkened peepholes, shrouded in the blackness.
Thranduil was getting married. To Lothuial.
She hadn't realized until that moment, standing in the hallway like a ghost while Lothuial dictated the upcoming nuptials, how intensely she'd grown to cherish her time with Thranduil.
And now it would all be coming to an end.
Lothuial had been clear about her distaste for Charlotte from the beginning, and Cúthon had it in for her as well. Friendship with Thranduil would not save her from them after the wedding, and Charlotte would be lucky if they shipped her off with supplies, rather than tossing her out into the winter with nothing.
She shook her head to dislodge her thoughts. That was precisely why she didn't show up to breakfast, the reason she had pretended to be asleep when Ellavorn had come knocking early in the day. Under normal circumstances, Ellavorn would've tossed Elven propriety out of the window and barged in to drag her from the depths of her bed, ushering her out onto the training field with nary a "good morning."
Except now, she had Maethor and Haedirn, who took their guard positions seriously. She'd shoved her thin blanket over her head while she heard Maethor murmuring to Ellavorn outside of her door, and whatever he said had magically made the captain vanish. He'd come back an hour later, and she'd heard Maethor practically growl, "Absolutely not!" But her door remained closed, and Ellavorn left.
She'd need to bake her guards a "thank you" cake.
Hours passed with her wallowing in self-pity, before she crawled out of bed and decided to pass the time more productively by responding to the few people in Middle Earth who currently didn't despise her. Her letters were brief, and in Common Tongue, and she hoped that Amroth could read his. She'd never asked him if he could read the language, though she knew he could speak it.
The letters lacked anything of importance anyway. Celebrían and Amroth already knew about the enchantment on the river from Thranduil's letters, though perhaps not the cause, and Beorn would likely know already since he seemed to be in constant communication with the animals in the Wilderland.
She gently poked her signature on the bottom of his letter to see if it had dried and then rolled it up, sealing it with an unmarked blob of deep blue wax she'd borrowed from Haedirn. Now she just had to slip out and mail them.
If she were at home, her current mood would mean yoga pants and an old t-shirt, so she went with the Middle Earth equivalent while getting dressed and threw on an oversized tunic and the leggings she favored. Now that she had settled in Eryn Galen, she was probably supposed to wear dresses like Celebrían, but as far as she was concerned, everyone already hated her anyway; she might as well be comfortable.
Maethor's face was the first she saw when she cracked open her door. His dark eyes creased with concern, and he whispered, "Good morning, my lady."
She knew he did it just to raise a smile from her, so she humored him and forced her lips to turn upward. "You know I prefer just 'Charlotte.'"
"Of course, my lady."
Haedirn stood on the opposite side of her door, the silver ring in his dark hair glinting in the lights from the orbs lining the hall. For once, his plush mouth pressed into a tight line, and displeasure etched in his eyes as he glared at the ornate double doors that separated the royal chambers from the visiting dignitaries. Her heart swelled at their loyalty to her, even though a small part felt guilty that they carried anger toward Thranduil for something as unfair as unrequited feelings. She should probably try to fix that.
"Good morning," she said to Haedirn, gently placing a hand on his tensed forearm. His eyes drooped at the corners as he turned to her, pity and compassion mingling in his gaze. Her heart swooped at the sight. She wasn't sure what she had done to earn their friendship, but she would be forever grateful for it. "Would either of you know how to send out a letter? Or three?" She asked, fanning the three rolls of parchment out for them to see. "Ellavorn mentioned the birds could be bitey, and I don't know where they are or how to get them to carry these."
Meluieth was supposed to teach her, but the other elleth hadn't spoken a single word to Charlotte since their altercation during the journey north, and Charlotte didn't dare go near the healing halls until she had a better idea of how to activate her traitorous necklace.
The necklace hadn't so much as glittered since her disastrous picnic with Thranduil, and as the days passed, the stone grew cold against her skin. She glanced down at it, studying the pale, lifeless teardrop diamond. Useless.
A pair of snickering ellith popped out of the double doors at the end of the hall, and Charlotte felt her shoulders collapse. Lothuial's glee at spotting Charlotte made her stomach twist.
"Get me out of here," Charlotte whispered to her two guards, hoping Lothuial and Eithoril couldn't hear her.
Her guards were already on it though. Maethor extended his arm to her, and Haedirn took her other side. Charlotte felt Lothuial's stare like daggers in her spine until the guards took her down the main stairwell beyond the elleth's view.
They were silent as they followed the curve of the stairs burrowing into the mountain. The entrance hall at the bottom was empty, and Maethor ushered her through another enormous archway into a great hall with long tables leading up to a raised dais. They passed unnoticed by the few stragglers milling about and descended another set of stairs.
"I thought we'd be going up," Charlotte said, raising a brow at her stern counterpart.
"We will," Maethor said. He squeezed her hand on his arm. "I've been guarding your door all morning. I know you haven't eaten, and so does Idhrenes."
"I believe," Haedirn's mouth twisted, though his eyes glittered with amusement, "her exact words this morning were, 'either you bring the elleth to me, or I'll fetch her myself.' And neither Maethor nor I would like to be rapped on the head with a wooden spoon again. She's fierce as a dragon that one." He rubbed his head as if to push away an echo of pain.
"Well, I would hate to cause further damage," Charlotte said, trying to gather an ounce of their usual teasing repertoire. She must've failed spectacularly, because she caught them exchanging worried glances over her head, silently trading thoughts.
"After that, we'll send your messages," Haedirn said as if there hadn't been a lull in the conversation. "And then there's someone, actually two someones, impatiently waiting for you on the training field."
That thought perked her up. Whereas she was in no mental place to practice with Ellavorn after she'd first woken, she'd had some time to center and pull herself together, burying her many failures over the past weeks deep into her mind. It was time for her to be human— elven— and move on with life.
She didn't belong here anyway. So it didn't matter, in the end, whether or not the elves liked her. Didn't matter whether or not he liked her. She would try to fix the mess she made and then go on her way. To where? She wasn't sure.
The kitchen was cozy and warm when they entered, permeated by the symphony of pots banging and the steady thunk of knives slicing through fragrant herbs and colorful vegetables. It didn't take more than a second before Idhrenes was wrapping her in a crushing hug and Charlotte's shoulders heaved at the maternal embrace. She was so tired. So numb to it all.
Idhrenes pulled back and studied her face, and the cook's furrowed brows and thin frown indicated that she wasn't pleased with what she saw. "You'll see me tonight," she said, and it sounded like an order. "And if I don't see you at dinner, you'll see me sooner."
A threat and an order. Usually, Charlotte would chafe at such a thing, but she didn't have it in her at the moment, and she knew Idhrenes was coming from a genuine place.
Maybe everyone didn't hate her after all. Just mostly everyone. Still, Idhrenes's firm tone was exactly what she needed. She wasn't this woman— elleth, whatever. So what if some people hated her, and her first friend in Middle Earth abandoned her, and the man she was slowly growing to... She cut the thought off. It didn't matter what she was maybe starting to feel; he was getting married.
Idhrenes shoved a heavy woven picnic basket into her hands and winked. "You're going to need this," she said. "I packed more of those pumpkin seeds we made together. I saw you never got to eat the ones from your last outing." And then she was forcing a second basket on Haedirn, before adding to Charlotte, "Some sun will do you good. You're looking peaky after being caged in your chambers all morning, and I'm sure an afternoon practicing on the training field will help mend your fëa.
Charlotte raised a brow at her odd behavior, but said, "I'll stop by after I mail these." She held up the scrolls messily sealed with wax, each bearing the name of their recipient.
"Galion!" Idhrenes barked, not bothering to turn her head.
Charlotte heard a thunk, and then Meluieth's brother was scurrying down one of the corridors leading away from the kitchen. As she watched, he staggered to the side and barely caught the wall before he fell.
Haedirn scoffed, "It's not even lunch, and he's already into Thranduil's wine."
Maethor tightened his arm on Charlotte and made a "hmph" sound. "I'd rather not leave the lady's messages with an elf in his cups," he said to Idhrenes.
"In his cups or out, nothing slips past Galion." Idhrenes propped her hands on her hips.
"Not yet, at least," Haedirn muttered.
"And if he doesn't want Thranduil knowing that he drank the bottle of Dorwinion from the Lady Celebrían," Idhrenes threatened, "he'll continue his excellent work. Now Galion will send your messages, and you three can move along to the training fields." She scooped the letters from Charlotte's hand and shooed them all out. "I'll see you all at dinner," she warned as she ushered them out of the kitchen.
"I guess," Charlotte said, "we're going to the training fields then. I need to check on Berior anyway. Would you both be interested in a ride in the forest? I promised him I would take him out if I could."
"I'm sure it could be arranged," Maethor said and shot a glance at Haedirn, who bit his lip before finally nodding.
Charlotte knew they were all up to something. How could she not, with all of them insisting she go to the training grounds? But she wasn't prepared to step onto the field to see him.
All around her, ellyn faced off in pairs, swords dancing and clashing. An archery range had been established to the east of the bowl, and lines of ellyn fired into hay-stuffed dummies positioned near the crags. She heard the twang of their bows in time with her thundering heart.
Watching a small blond elfling fire arrow after arrow into a training dummy at the end of the row was Thranduil. His blond hair glowed in the sunlight, shining against his silver tunic. His eyes snapped to her almost as if he'd been watching, waiting for her to arrive, and with a glance at her guilty guards, she realized he had been.
They stood frozen, eyes caught across the distance, each waiting for the other to move. Turn around, her cracking heart whispered, you don't have to do this to yourself. But at the same time, she heard the quiet hum, but I want to.
For someone prepared for her arrival, Thranduil seemed equally conflicted. His mouth opened once before he snapped it closed again. She saw the shifting of his weight, the indecision in his pale eyes as he tried to determine his next move. She stepped backward, and he matched her. The insane idea skittered across her mind: if she ran, would he give chase?
Legolas decided for them.
"Charlotte!" The elfling thrust his bow at his stunned adar and raced across the field to launch himself at her. She scrambled to catch him in time, dropping to her knees to keep from completely falling over.
Thranduil shook his head, though his lips twitched. "Ion nin, a prince is gentle," he said.
Legolas dropped his head and moved to step away, but Charlotte tightened her hold and hugged him fiercely. "It would please me to always be greeted with such exuberance and affection." She grinned at him, her chest warm as she watched his smile beaming at her.
The elfling needed no further invitation and regaled her with the entirety of his morning, from what he had for breakfast, to his sword lessons with Ellavorn, and his archery practice with his adar. "Adar took me to see Berior as well!" He chirped, bouncing on his toes before her. "He looks bored. We should go for a ride in the forest with him! It's been days since I've seen him. Or you. Where have you been? Why haven't you been riding with us?"
Charlotte gaped at him, "I— uh, I'm..."
"Charlotte was helping Meluieth with the healing wagon," Maethor cut in. Charlotte sent him a grateful smile. She wasn't sure her failures counted as "helping," but Legolas seemed satisfied by the answer.
"Berior said he's grumpy and wants to go for a ride," he insisted.
"Berior said that did he?" Charlotte laughed.
"Well, not exactly," Legolas rubbed his neck, "but he obviously wants to because he's so big, and his stall is small, and Rocher says he keeps breaking out and trying to get into the caves. Please, say you will?" He turned to Thranduil, and Charlotte felt her stomach drop at the neat little trap. "Please, Adar?"
Thranduil, to his credit, made a fair impression of thinking it over. "I suppose a one afternoon off your lessons wouldn't hurt."
"Woohoo!" Legolas cheered, bouncing on his toes.
"Legolas," Thranduil sighed, pinching between his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, "a prince does not 'woohoo.'"
"Sorry, Adar." Legolas slumped for a brief moment, like a kite on the wind, soaring upwards in glee after a quick dip. "Can I bring my bow?" He asked eagerly.
Charlotte laughed and said, "I'll prepare Berior. You two can sort yourselves out and meet us when you're ready."
It wasn't long before she had a cheerful Berior trotting through the side passageway that let out at the main cavern gate into the afternoon sun. The cool autumn breeze rustled what few leaves remained on the trees, and the horse hooves crunched and crackled the golden leaves carpeting the forest. Maethor and Haedirn rode ahead on their chestnut stallions, leading them over the bridge before turning west to travel along the Forest River, riding away from the Elven settlement.
They were far enough north that spiders shouldn't be a problem, but Charlotte was still surprised Thranduil had left the caverns without his faithful captain.
He shrugged when she asked about it. "I'm the Elvenking," he said as if it was sufficient explanation.
"Wouldn't that mean you should definitely have at least one guard on you at all times?"
"Even if I should, which I do not," he said, "I can always command Ellavorn stay behind."
"And did you?"
Thranduil raised an elegant brow at her. "I did." He didn't seem inclined to explain, and Charlotte figured he wouldn't tell her anyway, so she let it drop.
"Maethor and Haedirn are adequate protection enough, should I require it," he said, "but considering I've increased the patrols along our northern border and I'm almost as old as Maethor and connected to the forest, it is unlikely. A better way of looking at it would be you and Legolas have three guards today."
Berior snorted.
"My apologies," Thranduil placed a graceful hand on his chest and gave a slight bow to the elk beside him. "Four guards for you and Legolas."
Berior jerked his head at the correction and pushed onward. The elk glided through the forest, like something out of a fairytale, regal and mystical. Still, Charlotte worried that maybe she shouldn't have taken him out. Her fingers wove through the elk's thinning hair, and she bit her lip. She'd asked Berior if he wanted to go for a ride, and he'd seemed thrilled with the idea, but now she worried he was being reckless.
"Did Rocher have a chance to examine Berior again?" Charlotte asked. She noticed Legolas and the guards were getting further ahead, but it was for the best. If Berior was ill, she didn't want Legolas to find out by overhearing.
Thranduil nodded and glanced over the elk. "I spoke to Rocher this morning. He said Berior is showing no other signs of illness, save for the thinning hair. Berior is in peak condition otherwise."
Berior pulled his antlers higher, smug with the pronouncement, but Charlotte chewed her lip. Maybe Rocher was wrong? Something had to be causing it. "Are you just getting old then, big guy?" She gently ran a hand down the elk's neck.
Berior snorted again, and Charlotte chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes. On the plus side," she grinned mischievously at the Elvenking beside her, "you are much younger than this guy."
The elk lurched to a stop and snorted.
"Wonderful," Thranduil frowned, though she could tell he was faking it, "Now you're both laughing at me."
"I feel old," Charlotte said, "if that helps."
Thranduil looked her over, his silver eyes traveling from her braided hair, down her neck, trailing down her body until he reached the soft leather boots enveloping her toes. Heat burned beneath her skin.
"May I ask," he said finally, his soft eyes capturing hers, "how old were you before you landed here?"
Charlotte caught his actual meaning, but answered anyway, "Twenty-seven." Stars above, he probably thought she was an elfling.
"It must be a hard world," he whispered, "where a twenty-seven-year-old human woman holds thousands of years in her eyes."
"Not so bad," she shrugged. "My world and yours are not as different as I once thought."
And it was true. There was war, heartbreak, friendship, and betrayal in Middle Earth as much as in her modern-day Virginia. "Same battle, different time period." She gave him a weak smile.
His eyes still studied hers, searching for something, and he opened his mouth to speak, but quickly snapped it shut with a sigh. "We should be there soon."
"There" turned out to be a small clearing near the Forest River, ringed in towering beech trees that were thick enough to hold the telain she'd seen in the Elven settlement. Her guards quickly vanished to establish a perimeter, and Berior wandered into the forest, which left Charlotte uncomfortably settled with Legolas and Thranduil on a wide blanket with a spread of cheeses, bread, roasted meats, and a small bowl of golden seeds.
Thranduil popped one of the seeds into his mouth with a groan, and she felt something in her stomach tighten. "These," he moaned, "are delicious. I've never had them before. I wonder what they are?"
"Pumpkin seeds." Her voice came out higher than she intended, and she coughed to clear it.
"Odd," he said. "Idhrenes must be experimenting again." He popped another seed into his mouth while Charlotte held back a laugh.
"I'm glad you like them," she said.
"I love them!" Legolas dropped three more into his mouth like a little golden bird. Charlotte was eternally grateful for his presence, not only because she had missed him terribly, but it alleviated some of her anxiety about being out with an engaged ellon.
"Next time you make them, can I help?" Legolas asked. He shoved more seeds in his mouth without waiting for an answer, but Thranduil froze beside her.
"I should've known," Thranduil said, rolling his eyes heavenward. "Please tell me you haven't been working in the kitchens."
Charlotte bit her lip to hold back a smile, "It hasn't exactly been a secret, Mr. I-know-everything-that-happens-in-my-forest." Her smile fell, and she twisted a loose thread on the blanket. "Besides, what's wrong with me helping in the kitchen every now and then? I'm less likely to break anything there. I at least know my way around a kitchen."
"That's not what I meant," Thranduil pinched his lips. "I'm hardly concerned about you breaking anything in a kitchen."
"But you are worried about me breaking other things?"
"Does anybody want to shoot my bow with me?" Legolas said. Something about his chipper voice seemed forced. "No? How about a swim in the river?" His eyes blew wide with panic as he realized what he'd said. "I mean the Forest River, not the enchanted one. Of course, I wouldn't want us to swim there, because, I mean... I, uh..."
"It's okay, ion nin," Thranduil sighed and forced his lips to smile. "Your suggestion is a good one."
"Really?"
Thranduil nodded his head, and without turning, called out for Haedirn. The elf dropped from the foliage and bowed lowly, quietly waiting for orders. "Haedirn, would you mind taking Legolas into the trees with you and Maethor? Show him some of the patrol procedures and take him for a canopy run."
Haedirn darted his eyes to Charlotte and opened his mouth, but Thranduil cut him off. "She'll be guarded well. This is my vow."
Her guard hesitated a moment longer before he nodded stiffly, and she watched as he escorted Legolas into the nearest beech tree. She was surprised Haedirn tried to fight the order and even further astonished that Thranduil had almost allowed it. They were silent until Thranduil breathed a heavy sigh and said, "They have traveled far enough that we shouldn't be overheard."
"I'm surprised they actually left."
Thranduil scoffed and ran a hand through his hair. "If he were any other elf, he'd be on the southern borders for a week for that kind of dissension."
"So why isn't he?"
The Elvenking's brows rose in surprise before he seemed to come to some conclusion. "That is not for me to say. It would have been within their power to refuse my order if they decided to do so. But I'll admit, part of my design in bringing us for this ride was to speak with you alone."
"I'm not sure I'm comfortable being alone with you," she admitted.
Thranduil's mouth dropped as if he'd been struck. "You do not feel safe with me?"
"Oh, no! I didn't mean—" She took a deep breath and tried again. "It's just not... it's not proper for me to be out, alone, with you."
"And why not?"
"What do you mean 'why not?'"
His lips pinched, and he rolled up to his feet. "Is it because I'm the king? Because—"
"No!" She rose, standing toe-to-toe with him, though her head was barely above his shoulder. "I've never seen you as just a king. That's entirely unfair to both of us."
He huffed and glanced away for a moment. His silver eyes closed as all the air left his body, "I know. I apologize. It's one of the things I adore about you."
She felt fluttering in her abdomen but quickly buried it under anger. "That! That's why I can't be alone with you. You can't say things like that to me. Not now."
"That confirms my first question then," He said with a self-deprecating smile. "You did overhear us the other day."
Charlotte sighed. "I wasn't eavesdropping." But then she thought it over and said, "Actually, I'm sorry. I was. Not at first, but... you know, after."
Thranduil pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes closing in frustration for a moment before they focused on hers. "I've mentioned to you before that Cúthon is almost considered royalty among the Silvan elves?"
"He's the oldest."
"The second oldest," Thranduil clarified. "There's one older elf, far more beloved and feared than Cúthon, but this elf prefers a quiet life, and I refuse to drag her out for my own selfish gain."
"What does this have to do with your betrothal?"
"I'm not betrothed," he insisted, stepping closer. He frowned when she stepped away. "Whispers are spreading about my failure to fulfill the betrothal with Nemir. Cúthon is using it to pressure me into another alliance. With the curse on the river, the premature move to the caverns, orcs scuttling through the Grey Mountains, and spiders crawling up from the south, I'm fighting for stability, and Cúthon knows it." He ran a hand through his hair and paced.
She wanted to comfort him, wanted to bridge the divide between them. But Charlotte bit her lip, hesitating.
"He thinks I don't realize what he's doing," Thranduil growled. "But I will not be led like a stallion for breeding again. Not when..." he turned. His eyes softened as he captured her gaze.
"Not when?"
But Thranduil tensed, his head darting to the trees. His brows knotted in confusion before his eyes widened. "Get into the branches," he whispered.
"What?"
But he had already grabbed her hand, rushing her to the nearest beech tree. She balked. "Thranduil, I don't know how to climb these!"
He lifted her to the first branch, but she was too short to reach the next. Thranduil cursed, and she could see the indecision in his eyes. "Stay here," he insisted and pulled his twin blades from Belegroch's saddle just as two orcs came rushing out of the trees.
Thranduil spun between them, slashing and flicking their blades, luring the orcs away from Charlotte's tree. She knew he could take them both out easily, but he was delaying it for some reason. Distracted with his opponents, he didn't see the third orc peeling from trees, heading straight for her.
Charlotte dove her hand into her boot and whipped out Amroth's dagger. Mind racing over everything Ellavorn had drilled into her, she jumped off the branch before the orc could trap her.
The creature was stunned by the move, enough that she dove under his sword and came up slashing across his throat, the dagger cutting deep at the same time she heard a thunk! His body jerked, and he dropped to the forest floor, his sword clattering beside him and the shaft of an arrow jutting from his neck.
Her eyes frantically searched the branches and found a pale-faced Legolas pulling back the string to his bow, another arrow aimed behind her. Maethor and Haedirn dropped from the trees, just as the second arrow whizzed by, lodging firmly in another orc's neck.
Thranduil's shock nearly cost him. He stuttered in his dance, picking up just in time to avoid the arc of his final attacker's sword, and then brought the pommel down hard on the orc's skull.
Legolas dropped his bow to his side, and Charlotte could see his small hands shaking. "Legolas?" She called. "I can't climb to you, sweetheart. Can you come down?"
He jerked his head, scrambling clumsily from the tree until his feet slammed on the ground, and then he was running into her arms.
Charlotte felt her heart drop into her stomach with relief. "You're okay," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him as he shook. "You were so brave, little leaf. I'm so proud of you."
"Maethor felt your fear," Legolas cried into her shoulder. "I was so scared we wouldn't make it back in time."
"I know," she soothed and ran her hands down his hair. She filed away the idea of Maethor somehow sensing her emotions. "I know. There were only three of them. Your adar had it well covered."
"So did you," Haedirn said, and she glanced up to find him standing guard over them, his sword still out. "Ellavorn will be pleased."
Charlotte jokingly scoffed. "I was hardly needed since Legolas got there first."
"It was quite a shot," Haedirn agreed.
"Really?" Legolas peeked out from beneath her arms, his eyes wide with hope.
"I would have to agree, ion nin," Thranduil said as he joined them. Maethor was tying the last orc to a tree trunk, and Charlotte realized that Thranduil didn't kill the orcs immediately because he wanted one alive.
Thranduil kneeled beside them, resting a warm hand on Legolas's shoulder. "There is no prouder Adar in all of Middle Earth."
Legolas beamed and threw himself into Thranduil's arms. She felt moisture pooling along her lashes at the surprised joy that lit Thranduil's face. His wide eyes took in the little blond elfling in his arms, and his mouth stretched until he was beaming.
It was breathtaking.
Maethor coughed behind her, and she stood. The orc against the tree was slowly stirring, his body tensing against the ropes that held him. Thranduil pulled away from Legolas and said, "Take care of Charlotte on the way back. Haedirn will escort you two to the caverns."
"But, Adar, I want to stay. I can help!"
Thranduil's mouth pressed into a firm line. "There will come a time where you must do what I have to do next. For now, I need you to remember that a prince obeys his king. Take Charlotte home for me."
"Yes, Adar."
Legolas took his oath seriously and stuck closely to her side once they'd rounded up the wandering elk and horses, though she could tell he partially clung to her because he needed her too. Berior sensed it as well and nudged Legolas until the elfling climbed onto the elk instead of his own horse.
Charlotte tried to catch Thranduil's eye before they left, but he stayed resolutely turned, his entire focus on the last living orc tied to the tree. As they galloped away, she saw Maethor pull a dagger from his belt, and she finally realized what his responsibilities were before she came along.
They weren't far enough away before the screams started.
The orc's only coherent sentence haunted her all the way back. "He's coming for her," the creature screamed with glee before the painful cries took over.
AN: Inspiration comes from interesting places. One of the original inspirations for this story was a meme that used a scene from Disney's Bambi II with Legolas and Thranduil. The lines: "Woohoo" and "A prince does not 'woo hoo'" are from the Bambi film. It made me think about the struggle Thranduil must have faced when he lost his wife and his father at that same time he assumed responsibility for reigning a kingdom while learning how to raise his son. And so one of the pillars of this story was born. So hopefully you like the new chapter! I hope to have another one out to you soon!
