Legolas was thrilled to unveil two perfectly golden pies to her guards, and her guards were equally pleased to dig into their shared dessert, eating directly from the pie pan with their forks battling over the midline.
"If this whole hero-from-the-Valar-thing doesn't work out," Haedirn said after stealing a mouthful of pie from Maethor's territory, "Idhrenes should really hire you."
Idhrenes noticed Charlotte stiffen, and the cook scoffed as she sliced into the remaining pie, cutting one of the decorative leaves Legolas had added to the edge of the crust. "Put more pie in your mouth, Haedirn."
Finally realizing what he'd said, he grimaced. "Apologies, my lady. I only meant to complement your baking."
"I know. Thank you," Charlotte said. She chose to ignore the churning in her stomach. Tomorrow, she thought, I might finally be able to fix this mess tomorrow.
"Speaking of apologies," Idhrenes continued. She slid a slice of pie onto a plate for Legolas, who dove in with gusto. "I owe you one, Charlotte. I swear I didn't know what they were doing when they took you into the forest."
"Then there is no need to apologize," Charlotte insisted.
"Well," Maethor said, dropping his fork to the workstation. "She may not need to, but I certainly do. I should've told you."
"Why didn't you?"
He glanced at Haedirn, who placed his fork down as well. "Please forgive us both," Haedirn said. "It's just... you were already carrying so much we could see it in your fëa. When Ellavorn showed up that morning with their plan, we refused."
That explained the yelling she'd heard then.
"So, you didn't think I could handle knowing?"
"No!" Maethor insisted. "No, we just didn't want you to have to handle more. If anything had happened, if a guard was injured, we knew you would blame yourself, even though it wouldn't have been your fault. And then suddenly everything was careening out of control, and you were going for a ride anyway, and you were starting to come to life again, and we didn't want to ruin it."
"That," Idhrenes sighed, "would be my fault. While I didn't have the same motives, I was trying to usher you into the forest."
Charlotte figured she'd deal with one plan at a time and focused on the orcs. "You told Ellavorn I was never supposed to be in danger, but three orcs cornered us. What happened?"
Maethor rubbed the bridge of his nose, but Haedirn took responsibility for answering. "Ellavorn has been receiving reports of orc skirmishes from the northern border. Not the usual full-on assaults, but attempts at sneaking past the border. They're hunting for someone, and we've gotten lucky that there have only been few injuries so far."
Her body went cold. She knew the orcs were looking for her. But she'd foolishly thought that once she was within the stone walls of Thranduil's caverns, she would be safe. Now, not only had she poisoned Thranduil's people, but orcs were hurting them trying to get to her. She shoved her dessert away. They were right about one thing: she would take the blame because it was her fault. She was supposed to be helping them, not the other way around.
"That is why we didn't want to tell you," Maethor lamented. "Your fëa is fluttering again. Almost like it can't keep itself lit."
"Is it possible for it to snuff out?" Charlotte worried.
Idhrenes patted her hand, "It is, but that's not going to happen to you. Deep, crippling emotions: grief, trauma, guilt; those can cause a fëa to fade."
Grief? Check. Trauma? Absolutely. Guilt? She had that in abundance. Was her fëa at risk?
"Does that happen often?" Charlotte asked, suddenly worried about yet another problem. "Is there a way to stop it?"
"Most elves sail west before their fëa weakens that much," the cook said with a subtle glance at Legolas, who appeared to have tuned out the conversation. "But it happened enough after the war that it was common for a while. Even during the war, we faced fadings. Lothuial's mother, for example, faded from grief during the war."
"Oh," Charlotte said. "I'm sorry to hear that." And she was. She knew that pain intimately. Maybe that explained some of the coldness in that family. Loss had tempered them, honed them into steel. If it weren't for the elves she'd grown close with, and of course, the skin-changer, she may have ended up just as cynical and distant.
"I'm surprised Thranduil didn't mention it before," Idhrenes said. "I've noticed he shares more with you than he does others."
Charlotte raised a brow in question.
"You didn't think I was leaving two forks out for fun, did you?" Idhrenes scoffed again. "Honestly."
"My look was more along the lines of 'Why would Thranduil have told me about Lothuial's mother?' Versus: why would he have told me specifically?"
"Because," Maethor explained, "Thranduil's mother, Queen Renieth, died protecting her friend: Lothuial's mother."
"Did Adar's adar fade?" Legolas asked.
The adults spun to face the elfling, chagrined that he was, in fact, listening. Charlotte was surprised to see Idhrenes field the question, "King Oropher died during the war," she said, "Though yes, his fëa had begun to fade."
"Do you think he would've liked me?" Legolas asked, pushing the last bite of his pie around his plate. The wound from his naneth's abrupt departure was still raw, and Charlotte wasn't sure who she disliked more at the moment: Nemir for hurting him in the first place or Lothuial for tearing open the wound again.
Idhrenes turned over Legolas's question, her lips pursed as if deciding how much to share. "King Oropher could be demanding," she settled on, "but even he would've adored and cherished you in his own way. Despite everything, there was nothing more important to him than protecting his people and his family."
"She's right, little leaf," a deep voice said from behind her. Maethor and Haedirn didn't so much as flinch, so they must've known Thranduil had entered the room. The Elvenking took a knee behind Legolas, who turned to study his adar. "My adar would have loved you as much as I do. One day, when we sail west to Valinor, I'll prove it."
Legolas was caught on one particular part of Thranduil's sentence. "You really love me?"
Thranduil's mouth dropped in shock, "How could I not? You're the most important elf in all of Arda to me, ion nin."
The elfling looked to Charlotte and took a deep breath before facing his adar again. "Charlotte said you wanted me very much."
Thranduil seemed to sense the question there and said, "I've thought of you every day since I first felt your fëa call out to me."
"Why didn't you stay with me then?"
Charlotte quietly slid off the bench and led her guards away to give them some privacy, but Legolas stopped her.
"Please don't leave!" he cried. She could see the fear and vulnerability in his eyes.
"I promise you, I won't," she reassured him. "I'll be right over there, ready to say goodnight when you're finished talking with your adar."
Vow accepted, Legolas turned back to his adar and said, "This would be much better with another slice of pie. I made it for us! Do you want some?"
Once the two ellyn were settled with dessert, Charlotte helped Idhrenes tidy the kitchen while Legolas and Thranduil spoke, trying to give them at least the illusion of privacy. It felt wonderful to do something helpful and productive, even if it was just washing forks and plates while Idhrenes banked all but one of the enormous hearths. Despite the warmth from the last fire, the newly-fed shadows sent a shiver down her spine, and her mind tumbled over the last time she'd washed dishes. The dream seemed so long ago, even though it had been only a few weeks since she'd slid her knife into the orc by the river. Her shoulders tightened. She would definitely have nightmares about that tonight.
Legolas wrapped his arms around her as she was tucking away the last of the plates. "Goodnight, Charlotte," he whispered, and she bent down to return his hug. "Thank you."
She smiled and tapped her finger against his nose. "Get some rest, little leaf."
Thranduil turned to her guards and asked, "Would you escort Legolas back to his chambers?"
For a moment, she took in Maethor and Haedirn's stone-faced expressions, and she was sure they would decline. Thranduil must've seen it as well, since he said, "I vowed I would keep her safe. You know that still stands, and I owe her an explanation. Please."
Still, Maethor flicked his gaze to her, only consenting after she nodded her head. "Very well," Maethor said, though he sounded displeased, "Haedirn and I will rest while she's in your care. Please wake me when you're finished."
When they were gone, Charlotte realized Idhrenes had somehow slipped away too, leaving her alone in the dim kitchen with the Thranduil. It reminded her of when they'd sat exchanging stories and sharing an apple tart. The flames in the hearth flickered across his face, and she caught herself lamenting the fact that he was dressed so regally. She missed the relaxed look he wore last time. Even as she thought it, Thranduil pulled his crown from his head and slipped his robe from his shoulders, revealing a silver tunic beneath.
"I hope you don't mind," he said, and she quickly schooled her features as she watched him roll up his sleeves, her eyes tracing each inch of golden skin revealed.
Her throat felt dry all of a sudden. Married, she reminded herself. Engaged, betrothed, whatever. Thranduil was off the market. Unavailable.
She turned from him to give herself a moment. She would not eyeball another woman's future spouse, even if she hated the other woman. Vehemently.
"I suppose you don't want to talk to me," he said, and she spun, shocked, to meet his disappointed eyes. "I deserve that."
"It's not that," she blurted, realizing too late what it implied.
"So it's the nonexistent betrothal then?" His brows raised. "I told you I am not accepting another political arrangement."
"Does Lothuial know that?" She crossed her arms. "Because she's ordered flowers and gowns, and she seems to think that there is a wedding."
"She's what?"
Charlotte glared at him, but the more she watched him, the more she actually believed he was telling her the truth. "You didn't know?" She clarified.
"Of course not!" He insisted, taking another step closer, his hands spread in supplication. She stepped away, her back hitting the wooden table where she'd prepared pies with Legolas hours ago.
"Why does she think you're getting married if you're not?" Her eyes narrowed, studying every twitch in his expression, but Thranduil was genuinely upset. Lothuial wasn't the most trustworthy elleth, but why would she risk preparing for a wedding the groom hadn't agreed to?
"Cúthon probably believes he has me cornered with everything happening." Thranduil shrugged, but then he caught her guilty expression and said, "This isn't your fault, Charlotte."
"It is." She turned her head, unable to view the compassion in his eyes. Of course, it was her fault. It was her necklace, her emotions, and her memories that poisoned their river. And though Maethor and Haedirn were optimistic that they were close to figuring out how the necklace worked, she couldn't help the nagging feeling that she would fail again.
"It's not," Thranduil's voice soothed. "That necklace didn't come to you by accident. The Valar chose you specifically, and something unique to you activates the necklace. I have faith that we can figure this out. If you still want my assistance, that is? I assure you it wouldn't be improper. The betrothal contract is still unsigned on my desk. I could show it to you if you'd like?"
She hesitated. On the one hand, irrefutable proof would be nice, but what value would it have if she couldn't trust him without it? "Your word is enough for me," she finally said.
Thranduil's face lit up, beaming, and a sliver of his fëa's glow illuminated his skin. She fought against the call for her own fëa to rise and meet his.
"Then," Thranduil said, his eyes still locked on hers as he dared another step closer, "I give you my word that I am not betrothed, nor have I encouraged a betrothal with Lothuial. I'm not even slightly interested in another loveless forced arrangement, and after speaking with Legolas tonight, Lothuial would be the last elleth I'd be inclined to marry."
"And what about using me as bait without telling me?"
He opened his mouth, hesitating, before snapping it shut again. "There's really no excuse for it," he sighed. "I should have told you. I wanted to, but…"
"But?"
"It's entirely selfish."
"Thranduil, why didn't you tell me?" She whispered.
His silver eyes closed, and he sighed, defeated. The flames from the hearth flickered and cast shadows across his lids, and for a moment, she could see the pain buried in the darkness around his eyes. "You've been avoiding me for days, I didn't— I missed you. I didn't want our first conversation to be about using you to lure orcs for capture."
She'd been such an idiot. First Legolas and now Thranduil. She had thought she was protecting them by keeping her distance, and instead, she left them feeling abandoned, and they'd accepted it because they weren't strangers to people claiming to love them and then walking away. "I'm so sorry," she said. Her fingers wrapped around her arms to keep herself from reaching out to him. "I thought, stupidly, that if I stayed away, then they wouldn't come after you too."
"Who?" Thranduil asked. "Who's been threatening you?" Peaceful Thranduil had vanished, and in his place stood a king, a warlord ready to eviscerate.
"No threats," she said. "I'm just not particularly well-liked right now. I can handle it." Mostly. She'd given herself her space to mope and compartmentalize, and now she was ready to march on and finish her task. She could deal with the vast majority of Thranduil's people disliking her. Of course, after she left her cocoon of despair, she'd realized that, for some reason, most of her new friends were not angry with her. They should be, but they weren't. "How do you not hate me for what I've done to your people?" She asked him.
Thranduil slid another step forward, approaching her as if she were a wounded animal. "Hate you? For bringing my people hope? For soothing Legolas's pain? For easing Maethor's fëa? Please tell me which of these I should despise you?"
"I don't think poisoning them counts as 'bringing hope,'" she scoffed. An idea flitted across her mind. "Actually, do you think you would be willing to help me with something?"
"Anything," he vowed. His expression was so sincere, she breathlessly chuckled.
"I really could ask for anything after that," she smirked.
Thranduil was suddenly too close. Her lungs filled with the spicy vanilla scent that was inherently him. "You could," he breathed.
She pictured herself, reaching up on her toes, winding her fingers into his hair, finally discovering if it was as soft as it looked, if his lips would unravel her. But there were elves, sick and crazed, and she needed to help them before she could be so selfish. "Sneak me into the healing hall? Tonight? Right now?"
Whatever Thranduil had been expecting her to request, that wasn't it. "Why?"
"I want to try again," she said. "Tonight, the necklace activated with Legolas. I didn't see it, but Maethor and Haedirn did, and they think it might be triggered by love."
"You love Legolas?" he breathed. There was something more to his gaze, a hope buried in his silver eyes.
"Very much," she whispered. "What's not to love?"
"Indeed." His smile was gentle, tentative, and for a moment, he was wholly lost in his thoughts. He shook his head. "Let's go then," he said, holding out his arm.
Charlotte looped her arm through his and glanced around the kitchen, ensuring that everything had been tidied away. "What about your crown and your clothes? Shouldn't we bring them with us?"
Thranduil laughed, and her heart swelled at the sound. "They'll be in good hands." He turned to the back corridor and called, "Galion!"
Glass shattered, there was a thump, then pounding footsteps as Galion hurried down the hall. "Yes, my king?" He asked breathlessly, one hand against the wall to keep himself from falling.
"Just the elf I was looking for," he winked at Charlotte, who studied the elf with wide eyes.
Galion's hair was askew, his tunic ruffled, and his dark eyes were bloodshot. Even with his hand on the wall, he teetered and nearly pitched forward. Was this elf ever sober?
"Galion, please return my robes to my chambers and then get some sleep. I expect you to be bathed and presentably dressed when you report tomorrow morning," Thranduil said firmly.
Galion's mouth popped open, and his eyes narrowed, the pupils trying to focus on the Elvenking.
"Go then," Thranduil nudged him gently. "My Dorwinion can wait until tomorrow. Though perhaps you can write Lady Celebrían in the morning and compliment her on her selection."
Galion paled, and it was enough to shock him into action. He scurried to collect Thranduil's belongings and disappeared up the stairs in a flash.
"Idhrenes told you after all?" She asked, surprised. Idhrenes didn't seem the type to reveal secrets or give up leverage.
Thranduil huffed a laugh. "I really do know everything that happens in my forest." He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes and smirked. "Well, almost everything."
"Again, I wasn't hiding it."
"I know," he scrunched his nose in an expression reminiscent of Legolas. "Were you behind tonight's pie?"
"I had help," she smiled, thinking of Legolas eating all of the apples. But then her mind circled back around to Galion. Drunk before lunch and drinking more after everyone went to bed didn't seem healthy. "Is Galion…" she couldn't think how to ask, but Thranduil understood her concerns.
"Galion and Meluieth are the last in their family," Thranduil explained. Their gentle steps barely made a sound as they passed through the great hall, empty and cold, and into the entrance hall. The bulbous lanterns illuminated the stone corridors with a pale golden light, a dim facsimile of Thranduil's fëa. "Meluieth has isolated herself from everyone, including her hanar, and Galion is worried about her, but she won't let him see her. Even then, he was doing well until Elros was injured last week on the border. Meluieth was able to save him, but Elros won't be returning to the guard."
"Ever?"
Thranduil frowned, "I wouldn't allow it. Meluieth has shared that the leg injury may leave him with a permanent limp. He would be a risk to himself and the others in the canopy."
"So, what will happen to him?" Was this on her shoulders as well? Had Elros lost his future on the guard because he was defending his realm from orcs trying to get to her?
"Stop," Thranduil said softly, "Galion blames himself as well. And Meluieth. We have defended the Greenwood for hundreds of years. That is why we have a border patrol and a guard. Each of these ellyn knew the risks and were willing to accept them. Remember, Charlotte: we were fighting a rise in attacks before the Valar blessed us with your presence."
Charlotte huffed, "I'm going to start worrying about you if you keep insisting that I'm anything other than a curse on your people."
Thankfully, Thranduil let it drop since they'd reached the double doors to the healing hall. It was blissfully silent inside, and Charlotte hoped that all of the elves had been sedated.
"Are you sure you're ready?" Thranduil asked her.
Instead of answering, she gently pressed the door open, leaving just enough space for the two of them to wiggle their way into the chamber. It was similar to the healing house at the old settlement. Beds lined each wall, with a central corridor between them, and most were occupied. The elves already asleep rested closer to the door, so she skipped them and went to the elves in the back who were awake but dazed.
She settled on the bed beside one of them, noting that it was the elf who had imagined his naneth. He didn't stir, and his glassy, vacant eyes worried her more than the unconscious elves. "Time to see if this works," she muttered. Her hand wrapped around the elf's, and she closed her eyes, trying to drag up the feeling of love she'd felt for Legolas.
"It's working," Thranduil breathed. Though when she looked at him, his brow was twisted in confusion.
"What?"
"It's not as bright," he murmured, "like you've found part of the key, but it's missing something."
If only she knew what the vague something was. Still, she let her feelings of love swoop through her and into the elf, and nearly sobbed in relief when his eyes began to flutter. His body sagged, his shoulders drooping, before his head bobbed on his neck, his chin dipping once, twice, and then he dropped back, lifeless. Thranduil rearranged the elf's limbs, so he looked comfortable, and ensured the elf was still breathing.
"It wasn't quite as sudden or strong, but it looks like it worked," he whispered. His proud grin caused a blush to race up her neck.
Charlotte rolled her shoulders and stood. "Let's help the others," she said, settling on the next bed and scooping up the elf's hand as she had done before.
It took an hour to knock out the rest of the elves. Charlotte moved from bed to bed, digging up her feelings of love and feeling the feeble answer in her necklace. Each attempt was slower as she struggled to focus her mind and project outward, and by the time she got to the last elf, the one who had marveled over the weeping stars, her arms and legs were quaking.
"Maybe you should rest and finish tomorrow," Thranduil murmured as he wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her from collapsing.
Charlotte shook her head stubbornly, and her hand raced up as if to hold it on her shoulders. "I'm finally helping, Thranduil," she insisted. Her words came out slurred, and her tongue felt thick and heavy. "I'm finishing this now. It's one more elf."
"You're barely holding it together," Thranduil tried.
"Please, don't make me sneak back down here by myself," she begged. Tipping her head back, she blearily studied his worried expression. "You shouldn't frown so much," she whispered. "You're far too pretty to frown." Her shaky hand reached up to smooth the lines across his brow.
Thranduil barked a laugh, quickly trying to cover it with a cough. He was silent for a moment, waiting for someone to burst into the chamber to investigate the noise. When it seemed the coast was clear, he grinned down at her, watching her still dazedly stroking his forehead. The tension in the corners of his eyes made her want to smooth her fingers across his cheeks too.
"You're practically as drunk as Galion right now," he whispered. "I don't let any of my healers practice while they're in their cups."
"Technically, I'm not in any cups," she said cheekily.
Thranduil rolled his eyes, but his smile gave him away. "Stubborn elleth. Maethor will murder me if I return you like this."
Charlotte snorted, "Yeah, probably."
"Thank you for your concern." He huffed. She loved the way his lips curved when he smiled like that. Loved the way his eyes glittered at her.
"I'd protect you," she whispered.
"You cannot stand without assistance." Thranduil tightened his arms around her waist to prove it. "I don't like my chances."
"Well, then," she started, but the thought ran away from her. What were they talking about again? "Mmhm, last elf, then."
"This is a terrible idea," Thranduil sighed, but he helped her stumble the few steps to the last elf.
"Thank you." She grinned at him, wondering why he wouldn't hold still. Damn elf was making her dizzy. Her hands wrapped around the last cursed elf's fingers, though her eyes never left Thranduil's, and she felt the warmth tripping over her stone onto her skin before the elf collapsed in a heap on his bed. "Told you I could do it," she mumbled proudly.
Thranduil's terrified eyes as he dove to catch her was the last thing she remembered.
Translations:
Hanar- brother
AN: I'm going to try really really hard to get another chapter finished and out tomorrow! Fingers crossed! Thank you all for the wonderful comments. I'm so excited that you're enjoying the story and the characters. I feel like the luckiest writer in the world with you all!
