The bright flush on her skin would be permanent, she decided as she narrowed her eyes at Haedirn's smug smirk. He'd dropped from the trees almost immediately after Thranduil had summoned him, and Charlotte worried about what else he'd heard.
"Finally," her guard said, his lips twitching upward into a genuine smile.
Even Berior looked overly pleased with himself as if he had single-handedly pushed the two of them together.
She was grateful for Maethor, who had simply given her an affectionate smile before quietly disappearing into the canopy to check in with the guards. "The morning patrol should have taken over by now," he said. "I'll gather their report before we try to move through the forest."
"So, when's the wedding?" Haedirn asked casually. He propped himself against a beech tree and crossed his arms.
It only made her think of the rough bark against her back as Thranduil pressed his lips to hers, the delicious heat of him scorching through her clothes.
"We haven't discussed it yet," Thranduil said, shooting her a deliriously happy grin.
That doused her in ice water. Wedding? After one kiss? One mind-blowing kiss, her brain whispered. But still. Had he asked? She tried to plaster on a contented smile while her mind tripped over everything, trying to figure out where she'd missed the step that led from kissing to bonding for life.
Bonding.
The two ellyn had shifted their discussion to the night patrol's final report, oblivious to the mental chaos reigning in her skull. In her post-kiss haze, she had thought Thranduil's "when I bond with you" statement was simply another flowery euphemism for sex, like the Elven equivalent of "making love."
But she knew better. Amroth had taught her about bonds at Celebrían and Elrond's wedding, and she'd seen the effects of the newlyweds' bond on their fëar. Thranduil desperately desired that rare, meaningful connection for himself. After his relationship with Nemir, she couldn't blame him. But bonding was an eternal merging of souls, and Thranduil didn't know about hers yet. How could he when she'd only just found out? He didn't realize that her fëa was different. What if they couldn't bond?
She needed to find out, quickly, before Thranduil committed the rest of his existence to her and lost the chance at the one thing he wanted most.
Charlotte glanced up at his profile. Joy radiated from his skin, and his eyes were bright. One dimple peeked out from the corner of his mouth, and she caught herself imagining pressing her lips to the spot to see his reaction.
It would be difficult, but she would walk away if it meant he would have a chance at the kind of soul-deep relationship he desired.
He must've sensed her gaze because he shifted his weight, his hand subtly drifting beside hers, and she shivered as his fingers traced the vein in her hand. Delving into the gap at her thumb, he swept against her palm, turning her hand until he could merge it with his, weaving between her bones, scraping down to the tips before sliding up, up, to flutter against her racing pulse.
Somehow this ellon managed to rile her with just the touch of his hand. The embers left over from his last kiss grew hotter, and each pass of his fingers fanned the flames higher until a strange urge surged beneath her skin.
Haedirn was still giving the border reports, though he'd moved on to discuss the few spider sightings in the south, and she tried to quiet the roaring in her body so she could pay attention. She was somehow exhausted and wired, the sensory input from Thranduil drowning out her currently limited capacity for processing their conversation. If it went on much longer, she would likely jump Thranduil or fall asleep on him.
Thranduil seemed oblivious to the chaos he was inciting, his movements so natural that she'd almost think he was doing them subconsciously, but there was something deliciously sensual about the way his fingers caressed her skin. Her sneaky Elvenking knew precisely what he was doing to her.
"What happened when they tried to follow it back to the nest?" Thranduil asked as his nail scraped her inner wrist, only for the soft pads of his fingers to stroke down her palm and splay her hand wide between their bodies.
She suddenly had a vivid idea of what he'd do to her once he lured her into his bed.
She shivered, and Thranduil barely covered a satisfied smirk before he said to Haedirn, "Excellent. As soon as we reach the caverns, we'll send a missive to Elrond to alert him."
"I thought the Lord wouldn't be traveling until spring? Will he be entering the forest?"
"I'll explain what we know when we reach my chambers," Thranduil said. "We've been away long enough, and we'll need Ellavorn as well." He turned to Charlotte, and she could almost believe she'd imagined the whole thing; he was the picture of innocence. "I can relate the information if you would prefer to rest?"
She was tired, but she didn't want to miss anything significant for the sake of a nap. Fresh from death's doorstep or not, there were still sick elves to heal and orcs to defeat, and evil dark lords returned from the grave, and maybe that nap was a good idea after all.
One disaster at a time.
"I think I'll go to the library first," she said. She needed answers, and that seemed the best place to start. It was where she would have started in Virginia at least: with thorough research and a literature review.
Thranduil sighed but nodded. "I will tell them everything on the way back then. I will not risk you being unguarded for now, and I doubt they would leave your side anyway. The journey is short, but you're welcome to ride with me so that you may rest before you bury yourself in the library."
It was a solid compromise, and she knew she was tired enough that Berior's swaying gait would drift her to dreamland and have her dropping to her back in the dirt without someone to stop it.
Maethor descended from the canopy a moment after and let out a piercing whistle to summon their horses. "The path is clear, though there is some commotion in the caverns. If something has happened, the guards do not know the specifics yet."
"Then, we need to get back," Thranduil said. He gently wrapped his hand in hers and escorted her to Berior, waiting for permission before lifting her to sit sideways across her elk's back. Then he was behind her, pulling her into the cove of his arms until she settled her head against his shoulder. He smelled crisp and wild, the embodiment of the forest, and it was both soothing and thrilling. With a smirk, she skimmed her nose along the vein in his neck, lips dusting the racing pulse beneath his skin before pressing a featherlight kiss to the hollow behind his ear.
His answering groan vibrated through her skin. "Wicked little elleth," he breathed. "You don't know what that does to me. What it will do to you." His mouth danced at the newly curved tip of her ear, and a tremor shuddered through her when his heat met the delicate skin. "I will thoroughly enjoy teaching you about all of the… sensitive… places an elf possesses."
Berior suddenly picked up his pace, and Haedirn and Maethor had to urge their mounts faster when the elk trotted past them. Thranduil tightened his hold on the reins and tensed his thighs on the elk. "Settle, Berior. There is no need to rush," he said.
The elk snorted but barely slowed, racing through the forest as if spiders were on their heels.
She was right about one thing: the swaying motion, coupled with Thranduil's warmth and scent, ushered her into sleep before she could think twice about pursuing those Elven anatomy lessons Thranduil had so graciously offered.
Charlotte was jolted awake by the screaming.
"She needs to fix him!" an elleth shouted.
"She will be down to examine him after she rests," Thranduil said coldly. "In case you have forgotten, she drained herself putting the others to sleep last night."
Charlotte cracked her eyes open to see Thranduil, stone-faced and livid under the softly-glowing orbs in the caverns. She did not want to be the elleth on the other side of that glare. Thranduil must've felt her move because he glanced down, his face morphing, smoothing away the anger until only concern remained in his lowered brows and soft grey eyes. "Everything is fine," he murmured. "You deserve to rest after all you've been through." His arms pulled her against him, and she realized he had carried her into the caverns.
"Please," the elleth said, and Charlotte's body tensed as she recognized the voice, a voice she had wondered if she would ever hear again. "He is my hanar and all that I have left. Please, do not make him wait and suffer," Meluieth begged.
The blood drained from her body as her fuzzy brain realized what Meluieth was saying. There was only one illness Meluieth would think Charlotte could heal.
"Galion is under the river curse?" Charlotte asked.
"They found him a few hours ago." Meluieth's voice wobbled. "If he's like the others, he'll wake soon."
And only suffering would follow. Galion would be forced to relive his most agonizing moments while his muinthel helplessly watched.
The king and the ellon warred in Thranduil's expression, but Charlotte had already decided. She slid herself free, feet settling shakily on the stone, and Thranduil held an arm out to support her. Maybe he had been right about needing to rest before she dove into research, but now her path was clear.
"Take me to him," Charlotte said. She jutted her chin, trying to adopt Thranduil's regal pose as she followed Meluieth through the corridors, attempting to hide the temporary frailness of her body. Thoughts of Varda's warning, the threat of burning out her fëa, speared through her mind. Thranduil didn't know about that yet, or he surely would've argued with her. As it was, she could tell he was displeased with the idea of her using the necklace so soon after nearly fading.
Thranduil clasped her wringing hands in his own and gently squeezed. "You don't have to do this."
Charlotte didn't say anything. Galion was only sick because of her, which was reason enough to try to alleviate his pain before it could start. Besides, it had taken multiple cursed elves to wear her down to the point of fading. One elf wouldn't be too hard, right?
Except, she was still recovering, and the excess energy in her fëa had been discharged into the forest song.
Thranduil rubbed his thumb over her hand. "I will not leave your side," he vowed, the low rumble of his voice quiet enough for only her to hear.
They heard the sobbing before they reached the healing hall, and Meluieth hitched up her skirt to run the rest of the way, throwing open the heavy oaken doors with a bang.
Galion was thrashing against three other guards when they entered. The sheets and pillow lay scattered on the floor beside his bed, and though his screams could be heard down the hall, the handful of cursed elves remained asleep in their beds.
"No, please!" Galion cried. His hands clawed at his captors. "I have to help him! Let me go! Elros? ELROS!" Tears streaked down his cheeks, and he had a gash in his hairline where the blonde locks had matted together with thick dark blood. It painted the side of his face burgundy.
"Do something," Meluieth snapped at her. Tears ran down her cheeks in rivers.
Charlotte tightened her arm on Thranduil, sent up a quick prayer to whoever was listening, and ripped off the veil shielding her light, letting the full force of it chase the shadows from the room.
The effect on Galion was instantaneous. His body stilled, and his pupils constricted, the sea of his irises swelling across the darkness. The guards hesitantly stepped back as he slumped. "The stars weep, Elros," he whispered. His eyes dripped tears of reverence. "Do you see them?"
"I do," an elf said quietly, and Charlotte finally glanced beyond Galion's narrow bed to see another elf arranged in the next one. "I see them, mellon nin," Elros said.
It was startling to see a conscious sane elf in the healing hall. His leg was wrapped from mid-thigh to calf in white linen bandages, and a pillow was stuffed under his knee for support. Sweat beaded along his flushed brow, and his arms shook as he tried to hold himself in position without disturbing his injured leg. As awful as he appeared, he was still the least of her problems.
Meluieth was a mess beside her hanar. Her frantic fingers whispered through Galion's hair, searching for the cut beneath the layers of sticky blood, and when her probing digits discovered the source, Charlotte both felt and heard Galion's wince.
"I'll have to clean the blood away," Meluieth said, "but it doesn't look deep. All this blood is just because it's a head injury." She sounded as if she were trying to convince herself. "I'll need you to put him to sleep before I try to clean it. I wasn't even able to look at it before. I don't know if he'll let me take care of it while he's awake."
"Will it be safe?" Charlotte asked. Her legs were wobbling beneath her, and she allowed herself a brief moment to lean on Thranduil. His grip tightened before she could pull away.
"We're facing the same issue as before." Meluieth assembled fresh linen and hung a kettle of water to boil over a bowl-shaped iron brazier against the far wall. The smoke curled and twisted up to a small hole in the cavernous ceiling. "If we don't, he'll likely injure himself like the others. And..." She pinched her lips for a moment, debating. "I would rather not sedate him with any of my herbs or medicines. I don't know what he's had to drink lately or how much."
Charlotte nodded in understanding and slowly crossed the stone floor to sit beside Galion. Thranduil held his spot beside her, still clutching her arm. Whether to reassure her or himself, she wasn't sure. But she was thankful for him and for her two protective guards who stationed themselves on either side of her. Especially when Haedirn gently redirected Galion's hand when the elf reached for her hair in wonder.
"Hello, mellon nin," Charlotte said softly, wrapping her hand around his before he could try to grab her again. "Close your eyes."
The last time she'd done this, she only had to think of Legolas. Her love for him had been just enough to put the elves to sleep, but not strong enough to heal them completely. Still, something was better than nothing, so she focused on how she loved his cute dimples. She loved the way his eyes lit up as he shot his bow or climbed a tree or stole apples. Her mind replayed hundreds of tiny moments from her month with him: when she met him, and he introduced himself as "Legolas of Both," his desire to have a horse named Limlug, his adoration for Berior... it seemed endless.
But it didn't work.
"I don't understand," she whispered. Panic welled inside her. Why wasn't it working? It worked before!
"Try again," Meluieth insisted. Her fists were clenched so tightly, her knuckles were white.
Charlotte closed her eyes and dug deeper, whipping through images: Legolas teaching her Sindarin. Dancing with him at the wedding. Watching him lead Berior across the narrow crevices in the mountains. Legolas flinging himself at her after the orc attack. He'd been in such terrible pain then, terrified that she'd abandoned him as his mother had—
"How can you not remember how you did it?" Meluieth cried. "You managed all the others, and now, when I need you most, you cannot manage to save my hannar?"
"I'm trying!" Charlotte growled.
"Clearly!"
"I would never abandon a friend," Charlotte hissed. "When I say I am trying, you can trust that I am putting everything into it. I don't know why it won't work."
"Get her out of my healing hall," Meluieth said. Her nostrils flared, and she flung her arm toward the door. "Out!" She barked.
But Thranduil had endured enough. "Sit. Down." He ordered his healer, his voice snapping like a whip. His temper was raging, and his control was about to burst. "This is my healing hall, and you will not insult and demean an emissary from the Valar. Especially since you know little of what she has already sacrificed—"
"Thranduil." Charlotte shook her head gently. Please, she tried to say with her eyes.
Thranduil's mouth popped open in shock before a pleased grin stole over his features, so at odds with his previous storm, and then she heard him clearly in her mind, "My, my, aren't we the quick study?" Pride oozed from his words, and she lost herself in the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "This will be such a delight to use later."
"Behave, you."
Meluieth seemed gratefully confused for the Elvenking's sudden docileness and stayed mercifully silent as Charlotte refocused on Galion.
She tried every combination of memories: love for Legolas, for Thranduil, for her guards. She even tried thoughts of Berior, her very first friend in Middle Earth, but nothing worked. She worked at it until her stomach was twisting from hunger and her limbs quaked. A sharp stabbing pain had started at her temples, and she felt an odd fluttering in her chest.
"Enough," Thranduil ordered. His voice was firm, but soft.
Charlotte jerked in her spot and glanced around. Maethor and Haedirn were polishing daggers behind her, and the other guards had disappeared to rest in the few remaining empty beds. How much time had passed? She wasn't sure, but her body felt ransacked. Still, Galion was wide-eyed and awake, and she knew the moment she left, he would descend into madness once more. Without thinking, she stretched out to try again.
Thranduil's hand darted out to seize her wrist. "Charlotte," he said. "You almost died—"
"What?" Meluieth's face paled, but Thranduil continued as if he hadn't spoken. Charlotte suspected he'd meant for the healer to hear him, and she shot him a glare.
"You should be resting right now," he continued, ignoring her irate expression. "I can see your fëa flickering. It's not safe to keep trying. Eat, rest, do your research, and then you can try again."
"Thranduil, I—"
"I'm not ordering it, yet, but I will if I have to," he said. "I don't want to, but I don't let my healers practice when they're compromised. The same applies to you."
He was right. Of course, he was right, but how could she walk away when her friend was in such pain? She felt a shiver race down her spine and realized she was sweating, her damp hair sticking to her forehead. "Fine," she caved, irritated with her lack of usefulness.
Meluieth sniffed, her mouth twisting with the same thought.
"I'll be back soon," Charlotte promised.
"After she sleeps," Thranduil added.
"And eats," Haedirn jumped in.
"Anything else?" Charlotte's eyes narrowed at the unrepentant ellyn. "I've conceded defeat; let's not push it." The three of them were such mother hens sometimes, but she honestly appreciated that someone else was trying to care for her for once in her life. It would've rankled more if she didn't know that she could politely tell them all to shove it, and they would respect her choice.
Maethor shot her an understanding smile as he slid his dagger into its sheath against his hip. "The sooner you take care of their demands, the sooner you can get back to healing."
She tried not to look back at Meluieth as the ellyn ushered her from the hall, but at the last moment, she peeked through the doors, her heart shattering as Meluieth crumbled into her hands and sobbed. The agony across her friend's face was excruciating, Meluieth's pain at watching her brother fall apart the further Charlotte went. The guards swarmed him as he screamed and flailed. Heat flared at her collarbones, and she felt the tingling in her fëa like her heart was flickering.
"No!" Thranduil shouted, yanking her flush against him as her legs gave out. Her vision closed in as she watched Galion drop unconscious on his bed, Meluieth springing up to check on him, and suddenly Thranduil's light filled the corridor, slamming into her fëa with a jolt.
Her eyes cleared, though she still felt shaky and tired. "I'm fine," she said and squeezed his hand. "Just take me to bed. Please."
"You're going to kill me if we don't figure this out soon," he muttered.
"That'll make two of us," she joked weakly. Thranduil's face crumpled. "Too soon?"
"Always," he swore, tightening his grip on her so she could stumble along beside him. "I don't suppose you'll let me carry you?"
"Nope." She said though she was tempted. Charlotte just wanted to feel like the strong, capable woman she used to be, and being carried into the sunset like a damsel wouldn't help her already flagging pride.
Varda's warning echoed in her mind, and she still had to tell Thranduil somehow. Not to mention, her two protective guards would need to be informed that she could burn out her own soul until there was nothing left to sustain her. They'd never let her into the healing hall again.
She briefly considered keeping it from them but knew she wouldn't, not after encouraging Thranduil to be open and honest with them. It might be easier to take if they had more information though. A trip to the library would have to come first, and then she would tell them. They already worried enough, and she was tired, so tired of dropping into oblivion every time her unstable fëa ran low.
Is this how her mother had felt at first? Slowly losing control over her body? Over her life? At least Charlotte retained her memories afterward. The realization settled like a stone in her stomach. Her mother hadn't had a choice either. Would Charlotte waste away like that? Would Maethor and Haedirn be required to babysit her around the clock? She couldn't, wouldn't do that to them. And Thranduil. It had been agony watching her mother drift away. Could she force him to watch as she broke before his eyes?
Answers. She needed research and information, but it looked more and more like she was leading Thranduil down another pathway that ended in misery and heartbreak. Because somehow, she was supposed to protect the Greenwood, and that sounded far more intensive than healing a few enchanted elves.
Thranduil rubbed a thumb over her hand as if trying to smooth out the ripples in her mind. "Would you join me tonight?" He asked. She darted her eyes up to meet his hopeful silver ones. "For dinner in my chambers? It would be just the two of us."
Could she? Her mind raced over the possibilities, always coming to at least one consistent conclusion: she owed him the truth and a choice. Even knowing all the heartbreak and pain involved, she still would've chosen to care for her mother, and she cherished every one of those memories. Thranduil deserved that same choice, and maybe he would have a solution, or the library would provide a one.
"I'd love to," she said, hoping that she sounded sincere. For as much as she was looking forward to an evening with Thranduil, she was dreading breaking both of their hearts.
Translations:
Muinthel — Sister/ Dear Sister
Hanar — Brother
AN: Reading your reviews for the last chapter was absolutely everything! Thank you so much! We've really been building up to that special moment, so I'm thrilled it didn't disappoint! As you can tell by this chapter, the gloves are off for our lovebirds. Hope you like this new chapter! I'm hoping to have another one out sometime within the next week!
