The bark bit into her skin, and Charlotte wrapped her cloak tighter and shifted her aching hips, searching for relief from the pain shooting up her thigh and into her back. Maethor and Haedirn had helped drag her into the upper branches of the massive beech tree hours before sunset, and her body was screaming after sitting still for so long. She'd tried pacing along the branch, but each time she wobbled, she worried she'd accidentally take the quick way to the ground.

The forest was oddly silent; even the trees stood tall and straight, as if they'd taken a collective breath and never released it. A quarter moon slung shadows across the sloping grass, straining toward the Tithenduin, and Charlotte shivered at the thought of what she had done earlier. What she had ordered done.

A hand settled on her shoulder, and she glanced up, her eyes finding Maethor's sympathetic ones. He understood. His soul recognized the monster forming beneath her skin. Even if hers was worse.

They'd marched for days to reach this spot, cradled between the shallowest section of the cursed Tithenduin and the roaring Forest River to the north, hoping that everything was already in place, that her request from Raenor had been safely fulfilled. Those days had been endlessly filled with counsels. Each time they stopped to rest, each sedate meal, even while riding: she ran through scenario after scenario with Elrond and Amroth. Maethor and Haedirn were always by her side, and she valued their input, but she'd also grown accustomed to altering her plans based on what wasn't said. Particularly, what wasn't said by one elf.

Oropher had become a third shadow in her retinue, and she'd learned to watch his face closely to read his opinion. When Amroth suggested keeping Charlotte with the Imladris and Lórinand host, she'd agreed with the tight-lipped frown and drawn brows that Oropher had silently sported.

"These people have chosen to follow me, to fight by my side," Charlotte had told Amroth. "I would dishonor that by trying to lead from afar." She would not cosset herself in the safety of the trees, buried behind two hosts while the elves of Eryn Galen fought for their lives with her insane plan. Which led to hasty goodbyes so that Maethor and Haedirn could carry her through the trees to the other side of the river while Oropher trailed them.

Haedirn plopped onto the branch beside her and nudged her shoulder. "It will work," he said.

"I hope so," Charlotte mumbled. Her unfocused gaze stared out across the Greenwood. In the distance, hundreds of little birds screeched and zoomed from the treetops, careening into the sky, and then the world stood still once more.

How long did they have? Charlotte studied the surrounding branches, but none of the elves were visible until Raenor stepped forward, the point of his bow peeking over his shoulder. He grinned and winked, as if they engaging in a forest game instead of a battle for their home.

She forced her lips into a smile and offered him a quick nod. Raenor slipped into the shadows without a word.

Would she ever reach that point? Where killing these creatures, bred for war and destruction, would not fill her with grief? Her memory rattled with the echo of screeches, growing louder and higher until her hands jerked in her lap, desperate to reach for her ears to block the sound.

"May I have a word with her?" a familiar voice asked. "Please?"

Maethor and Haedirn shot her concerned glances, but she tiredly nodded, and her guards vanished higher into the branches.

"So you do speak," Charlotte said quietly.

Oropher huffed a self-deprecating laugh. "I've spent months wishing that I could utter even a single word, and now…" His shoulders slumped. "Now, I cannot bring myself to make a sound lest it further rent my soul, and in doing so, I have sacrificed yours."

"The consequences of my choices," Charlotte said, refusing to move her gaze from the forest, "are not yours to claim."

"But if I—"

"No." Charlotte closed her eyes tightly as the screams surged in her head. She heard her voice ordering an elf to bring one of the buckets down, saw her pale hands shaking as she scooped the water from the Tithenduin with her hands and drizzled it over the orc scout. A baptism. A death sentence.

She would live with those cries for the rest of her existence.

"You did the right thing," Oropher said. He placed his hand on her arm, and she finally gave in and met his silvered gaze. "If we were wrong…"

"I know I did what was best for our people." Her nose flared in anger, and she bit hard on her lip. Her voice dropped. "But it still hurts, Oropher. I tortured something, a cruel, vicious creature, but I made it suffer for hours. I could have put it out of its agony, but I left it until its own heart gave out."

The words tore their way up her throat. How would she feel when this was finished? Even Maethor had never left a creature to suffer for as long as she had today. She could tell by the way his hands had twitched for his dagger, the way he paced, desperate to put the thing out of its misery.

And then he'd still looked at her like he understood the itching sensation that now tingled her skin. She wanted to scratch and scratch until there was nothing left but bone, until all of them could see what she was becoming. Her eyes burned, but she refused to allow the tears to surface. Oropher wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tucked her into his side.

"All will be well." His lips froze as if he were preventing himself from saying more.

"Where is Thranduil?" She asked, though she wasn't expecting an answer. "He should be here. Home, I mean, with us." He'd promised her. Sworn that he would do everything in his power to return to her and Legolas. He didn't even know that his adar waited for him as well.

How would he look at her after what she had done?

She shook her head, searching for a distraction, and flung her mind out for the first thing she could think of.

"Why weren't you sent back as yourself?" Charlotte asked. There was a twinge of desperation in her tone that she was sure Oropher noticed. "Why an elk?"

Oropher kicked a leg over the open air and hummed. For a moment, he was silent, and she thought he wouldn't answer. Maybe it hadn't been her place to even ask. But then Oropher tapped his index finger on his thigh and quietly said, "I can only guess at Nienna's intentions." He looked at Charlotte, the silver of his eyes reflecting the moonlight. "I knew that I would not return as myself, but I had assumed I would return as an ellon, at least."

"So why do you think you didn't?"

He filled his lungs deeply, and his brows settled low over his eyes. Charlotte gave him space to arrange his thoughts. High above her, she heard Maethor and Haedirn whispering, their voices soft enough they could be mistaken for a breeze. Her muscles loosened, the sound washing over her bones until she could convince herself that this was just another one of their many excursions into the forest. Her mind conjured an image of Thranduil, his long, graceful legs stretched along the length of the branch. Where was he? Would she know if something had happened to him?

She'd been tempted to travel the song again to search for him, but after talking it over with Maethor and Haedirn and searching Oropher's face for hints about his thoughts, she'd decided that it would be unwise. If Mairon plucked her from the forest again, there was the possibility of him figuring out her plan.

He might already know, though. They'd captured and killed a scouting party of orcs. She'd personally tortured one.

Maethor and Haedirn had gently drilled her afterward, ensuring she stood a chance on the battlefield, training her against the enemy they faced until she could comfortably slam her dagger into any of the ten weak spots in an orc's armor. A fragment of the knowledge gained through the remnants of her tortured orc scout.

She cursed her mind, angry that she kept cycling back to those moments, terrified that it would be all she thought about.

Oropher suddenly sighed, and his chin dipped. Charlotte had almost forgotten he was there. His eyes sealed behind his lids as he finally said, "I was dying."

She tilted her head, unsure how that forced him into the form of an elk. "I thought you were already… you know?"

"My soul was wounded. I cannot remember much of that time, but the pain tore at me. I could feel my strength waning; each moment, a piece of me would drift away until I was too weak to even remember why I was suffering."

She grabbed his hand and gently squeezed it. "It sounds like it was a miracle you were able to return at all."

"It was," Oropher agreed. "Which is why I think Nienna returned me in that form. Maybe it would have been impossible for me to return as an ellon with the state of my soul. Grief had destroyed me; perhaps I allowed it to be so. But I wonder if it was more than that."

"What do you mean?"

"I know some of what Thranduil has told you of me, having heard it myself. So you're aware that in the past, I have been distant and sometimes overly practical. As an elk, I could not resume my old position in this world, either by choice or by force. In a way, Nienna gave me a form that would allow me to both heal myself and protect you, though I failed you many times at first."

Failed her? He'd been there for her from the very beginning. Oropher had always shielded her when he could.

Oropher stopped her before she could argue. "I believed, because of all that I had done, because of the lives I had stolen, that I deserved to die again. How could I not? My actions, my orders, had torn apart my people, ended the lives of my warriors and friends, condemned my son to a century of grief and pain. When I returned, I threw myself into protecting our people once more. But I had shed my practical nature. I was reckless. Foolish. And it almost cost you your life. The night you were taken by that orc…"

The muscles in her back tensed. Charlotte fought the urge to wipe her hands on her leggings, feeling the slick blood settle like a shadow on her skin.

"Exactly," Oropher said, taking in the pale sheen to her face. "I was so preoccupied with protecting everyone, with trying to sacrifice myself, punish myself, that I neglected my duty. When we found you on the riverbank, buried beneath that creature, I was convinced I had cost you everything. But then you were screaming, and that pain was worse. Your cries have haunted me ever since. I vowed that night that I would force myself to think again, to live, if only to fulfill my oath to Nienna to shield you."

Charlotte tried to hide the ache that settled in her chest at his words. Not only for his suffering but because, selfishly, she weary of being seen as a responsibility to the people around her. Her sympathy grew for her mother. Was this what it had felt like for her? Always wondering if people genuinely cared for her as a person? Fearing that she was a burden? Her shoulders drooped.

She had apparently thoroughly misunderstood the relationship she'd thought she had with Oropher. It certainly explained how he'd so easily withdrawn from her over the past few days. Sure, he'd said she'd shown him how much he'd craved physical touch in his past life, but he hadn't specifically said he'd desired her touch.

Oropher lifted her chin with the curl of his index finger, and she fought to hide the burning in her eyes. "My vow brought me to you," he said, "but I have loved you almost since I met you, standing defiantly in front of me, caring about my injuries even though you were littered with your own. I saw your fire after being cold for so long, and I cherished it."

Everything surged through her at once: the past days of travel, being torn from Thranduil and then Legolas, the distance that grew each day between her and Oropher and Amroth, the stupid, horrible orc. Her face crumbled even as she fought to steady her shaking lungs. She could not allow the Greenwood elves to see her collapse before a battle. Oropher only tugged her closer, wrapping her tightly in his arms while she forced painfully sharp air into her lungs.

When she felt steady, she huffed a weak laugh, though her eyes were damp. "You know," she forced her voice to sound normal, "Thranduil said nearly the same thing. Although, I believe he called me 'dirty' as well."

Oropher cracked a grin and shrugged. "His naneth was fierce too. She will adore you, I think. Being with you, keeping you safe, made me feel worthy again. Your necklace might have been the final push, but you, Charlotte, helped me heal my soul."

He squeezed her hand gently, and her lips twitched with happiness. They were silent, only the sounds of the crickets chirping as their hearts said all the words their souls needed. Even knowing that orcs were currently marching north to overtake the Greenwood, Charlotte decided to enjoy these few precious moments, knowing that they could very well be her last.

Their own scouts were tracking the orc host through the trees, and at the last report, they had confirmed that the orcs would collide with their hosts before morning. With her eyesight, Charlotte would be at a disadvantage, but they'd found other uses for her. She only hoped she could deliver.

"If you can believe it," Oropher said softly, "I actually wasn't intending on discussing my history with you this evening."

"Oh?"

"I was hoping to prod you into talking to your guards."

"I talk to Maethor and Haedirn all the time," she said, and it was true. They spent every waking moment with her, especially since they rescued her from the river. It wasn't an uncommon sight among the host to see her whirling between the two guards, her dagger glinting in the sun as they drilled her again and again, and at night, she'd told them everything: where she was from, her life before, all about her mother.

"They've been hiding something from you, out of fear that you will reject them," Oropher said, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

Two sets of feet slammed onto the branch she sat on, and Charlotte spun to meet her guards' panicked faces.

"Way to broach it like we murdered her favorite bird," Haedirn cried before he faced Charlotte with a grimace. "It's not all that bad, I promise you."

"Well," Maethor winced, "I guess that depends on how you view it."

Oropher smiled cheerfully, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I will leave you three to discuss it then, shall I?"

And suddenly, Maethor's lips twisted as he realized how thoroughly he had been played.

"Alright then," Charlotte said, patting the branch on each side of her hips as Oropher climbed higher into the canopy. "I think he's right. I've given you both plenty of time to come clean. All this whispering and stalking is giving me a complex."

"We didn't mean to make you worry," Haedirn said as he settled beside her. "It's just… you're kind of a bit stubborn about these things."

"So far, not really selling me on whatever it is."

Maethor and Haedirn exchanged glances, and then Maethor said, "Legolas told you a little about gwaethainn, correct?"

Charlotte nodded, already dreading where this conversation was heading.

"What he might not have covered," Maethor continued, "is being a gwaethann is a high honor among elves. To swear the oath to an elf is not taken lightly. I was born before the fall of Gondolin, and never before have I found an elf I wished to offer such a pledge."

"You make it sound like a marriage," Charlotte said.

"In a way, it is." Haedirn scooted closer to her. "We would be bonded together. Not in the way you and Thranduil plan to be, but as protectors."

Maethor's breathing slowed, but Haedirn's stopped altogether, and she realized why. "If it is a true bond, then, if something happens to me…"

Maethor dipped his head sadly. "Then we would fade or be forced to sail."

Charlotte jerked her head. No. She felt her stomach twist. They couldn't be serious. It was terrible enough Thranduil might be bound to her, but her guards too? Should anything happen to her, three people would follow her into death. Maybe four or five, considering Legolas and Oropher would lose them all too. She'd be a lynchpin to the end of the entire ruling family of Eryn Galen.

"I can't," she panted. The trees spun around her. "You know I can't. It would kill you eventually. You know that. That's why you never mentioned it, right?"

Haedirn's eyes were wide and crushed, but unsurprised. "It is part of our reasoning. We were worried you would decline because you still sought a way home."

"What would have happened to you then?"

Maethor shrugged and said, "I'm not entirely sure. You're a rare case. Maybe we would have continued to live in the Greenwood, since you wouldn't actually be dead. Or maybe the distance would be too great, and we would still be forced to sail west."

"I just don't understand." Charlotte dropped her head into her shaking hands. She was supposed to be protecting them. "You've known me for such a short time. Thousands of years, and you've never found anyone and only a few months with me?"

"You saved my life," Maethor said.

"When?"

"I was already fading before you arrived." He twisted his fingers as if he were ashamed to admit it. "I was tired. I'd seen too many wars, too much destruction and pain, and something dark was rising in my home once more. The call of the sea grew louder; there was no respite. Haedirn, too, had grown weary of his position, but we stayed out of loyalty."

Haedirn nodded in agreement and said, "When we met you, it was like coming home."

She recognized that feeling. She'd felt it with Thranduil, but it was different with him. How long had she been considering Maethor and Haedirn both friends and family? She generally didn't open up to others anymore, but with Maethor and Haedirn it had been easy from the start.

"You see?" Maethor said.

"It's all the more reason for me to say 'no,'" she argued.

"You're seeing it as one-sided," Maethor tried. "Don't forget that, in many ways, you have already shielded us. When Thranduil assigned me as your guard, before I met you, I told him that this would be my last assignment before I sailed. Just meeting you dulled the roar of the waves, and the day your power lashed out by the river, you didn't just heal Thranduil and the elves."

"You owe me nothing for that," Charlotte said, frowning. "Whatever life debt you believe you owe, I absolve you of it."

"We don't wish for this out of obligation," Haedirn insisted. He nudged her with his shoulder and grinned. "It truly is an equal partnership."

"It doesn't sound equal," she said with a roll of her eyes. She ran her hands along her leggings, trying to let the smooth fabric soothe her. "Legolas told me that gwaethainn cannot part from their charges. You would be stuck with me forever." Her mouth popped open. "Like forever forever. Even I died. Bonds can't be broken. You'd spend every variation of your existence guarding me."

"There is little to guard you from in Mandos' Halls or in Valinor," Haedirn said.

"But even there, you couldn't get away if you wanted to!"

"We wouldn't want to," Maethor said. "Trust us in this. This vow isn't made lightly."

"Unless," Haedirn frowned, "you don't want to be trapped with us?"

"No! I love you both, I just…" she growled under her breath and rubbed her face. "These are your lives at stake."

"They're always at stake," Haedirn said.

"Not helping. And the three of us bound together feels like tripling our chances of dying," Charlotte said.

Suddenly, Maethor and Haedirn wouldn't look at her, and Charlotte narrowed her gaze, swiveling between the two. "Right?"

"Well…"

"You're telling me that if one of you two die, I won't?" Charlotte hissed. "How is that fair?"

"You're so caught on the dying part," Haedirn said. "That's the whole point! We shield each other from dying."

"What does that mean?" She cried. Frustration welled up inside her. How could they not see the problems with this? "Why can't we shield each other without tying your life force to mine?"

"Charlotte—" Maethor tried.

"I'm so sorry," Charlotte said. Heat burned along her lashes. "If you don't want to guard me anymore, I'll understand." Hell, she'd approve. "But I can't do this to you. I won't."

"You don't understand," Haedirn said, "it's honorable for us."

"What honor is there in death?" Charlotte bit back.

"In dying for another?" Haedirn shot back. "You of all people should understand that."

Charlotte jerked back, accidentally slamming into Maethor's side.

"How many times have you nearly died protecting another?" Haedirn said. His body was tight, and his brows creased his forehead. "You nearly threw your whole life away for her."

"Haedirn—" Maethor tried.

"You know," Haedirn plowed on, "you know that it's worth it to protect the people you love. That there is no other path you would choose if given a choice. Would you, Charlotte?"

Hot angry tears ran down her cheeks, and she glared at him. How dare he? "Would I what?" she sniped.

"Do you regret it?" He asked.

"Haedirn, gently," Maethor said. His hand reached out to soothe her, but she pulled away. She tried to crush the guilt at the pain that blossomed in his eyes.

"Do. You. Regret. It?" Haedirn pressed. Desperation etched in his face, his desire to be heard, understood, outweighing any caution he had left.

Did she regret it? She'd told Thranduil she didn't, but was it true? Hadn't she craved normalcy? Groceries in her fridge? A mattress that had a frame to hold it? A relationship with her mother that didn't involve medicine and doctor appointments and tears?

She'd spent her "partying college years" cleaning up fires and feces. Would she change it?

"No." Her voice cracked. Not for anything would she have lost the good parts of those years. It had been hard, but she'd been there for the mother she loved. Maybe not the way she wanted to; her mother might have been better off in an assisted living facility, or maybe Charlotte should have moved in with her or vice versa, but she thought that she did the best she could with her own personal situation. And it had been worth the sacrifice.

"So you see it now," Haedirn said gently.

This time, when Maethor enveloped her in a hug, she let him.

"Just think about it, at least?" Maethor's deep voice hummed against her side. "I will understand if you do not wish for the bond because you do not wish to be tied to us personally. I just beg that you do not reject it because you consider it an imbalance. We benefit as much as you do. Haedirn and I are the last of our lines on this side of the sea. Not only will we have finally become gwaethainn to a bonded, but we will have a family."

"And," Haedirn added, "because you are not technically a citizen of any realm, yet, and your title and lineage are equal to the other Elven rulers in Middle Earth— possibly greater considering you're the first of your line and hand-selected by the Valar— we would not be subjected to the orders of anyone besides you."

Charlotte sniffled and asked, "What would that do for you?"

"We might have broken out of a dungeon recently," Haedirn said cheekily.

"I'm sure Thranduil will forgive you for that," she said. If Thranduil returned to them, that is.

Haedirn already knew what she was thinking, "If he doesn't, the bond will protect all three of us from Cúthon."

"But Oropher is back now," she tried. "Wouldn't he just assume his title again?"

Haedirn shrugged, though there was worry in the twist of his lips. "We're not sure. He doesn't seem eager to resume those duties, and it's always possible that Cúthon may fight him for it. Until that is decided..."

"But Cúthon has no right!" Charlotte cried. "We can prove he's been forging documents, that he's murdered Thranduil's naneth. How could he possibly still have a chance?"

"Cúthon is crafty," Maethor argued. "With Thranduil returned, the documents would serve as proof for the realm, but he wouldn't necessarily need it. He is king and can order what he wishes. But Cúthon is one of the oldest Silvan elves, and he was almost successful the first time he tried to change the tide against Oropher. After the war, with what happened, it may be even easier, and Cúthon wouldn't be above imprisoning Oropher for the deaths during the Battle of Dagorlad."

So that was what Oropher was carrying around in guilt. It furthered her understanding of his reluctance to help plan the upcoming encounter. Maybe even explained Amroth's belief that Oropher had killed his adar.

"Promise us you'll consider it?" Haedirn said. There was a tiny flicker of hope in his eyes, and he leaned into her side.

But she knew she didn't need to make that promise. They'd made up her mind. Her shoulders drooped, and she prayed she wasn't making a mistake. This was their wish, and with her history, she understood that. She would have been livid if her choice to care for her mother had been taken from her.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Thank you," Haedirn sighed.

"Wait—" Maethor narrowed his gaze. "Do you mean 'yes, you'll consider it' or—"

"I accept your bond," she said softly. "How do we do it?"

Haedirn barely restrained a grin, but he gleefully asked, "You're sure?"

Maethor, always the more patient and sensible, said, "Wait at least an hour." Before she could argue, he added, "We have a few hours before the host reaches us, and Haedirn and I need to teach you the vows and find someone to guard us during the bonding."

"Why do we need a guard?"

"Bonds like this are rare," Maethor explained. "Ours would involve three elves, which is even less common. The last bond I witnessed knocked the participants out for an hour while their fëar settled."

"Is it wise to do it now then? We don't have that long before the orcs are expected to reach us."

"We'll have enough time," Maethor assured her. "But if you want to move things along quicker, I'm willing to concede to a half-hour wait."

"Very well," Charlotte said and leaned into his shoulder. She didn't see herself changing her mind in a half-hour, but she had been positive she'd never agree to such a thing at all. "But I have an idea for our guard."


Translation Refresher:

gwaethann (singular noun) / gwaethainn (plural noun) - Not canon, but an original word derived from the Sindarin words for "Bonded" and "Shield" = "Bonded Shield."

AN: Thanks so much for your reviews! I can't wait to hear your thoughts!