The world was shaking.
"You cannot rush this," a low voice murmured. "They will awaken when they are ready."
"They will awaken now!"
Oropher?
Charlotte struggled to drag herself to the surface, but her mind hopped from thought to thought, unable to focus. Memories stubbornly slid across her vision— some hers, some theirs. Her lids were heavy, and a burble of laughter tripped from her mouth.
The world quaked again.
"Come on, Charlotte," Oropher called, and the world tilted, dropping away beneath her shoulders as he heaved her into a sitting position. His cold hand tapped her cheek, and she fought the weight of her eyelids.
"Oropher?"
"Legolas is missing."
Ice coated her skin, and her stomach tumbled to her feet. Legolas? Missing? The two words didn't belong together in a sentence. She staggered to her feet, tumbling leg over leg like a fawn, until Oropher grasped her beneath her elbows and steadied her.
"What do you mean 'missing?'" she slurred.
Somewhere beneath the loopy warmness of her new bond, she felt rage and fear bubble. Two groans surged up from behind her. Maethor and Haedirn were slowly coming around.
Maethor's muscles quaked as he lifted his hand to his eyes. Valar, he hurt. He'd known, seen the grief and pain she'd carried, but living it with her… he loved her more for it. On the Valar, on his fëa, he'd never let her face such pain alone again. A hand gripped his, and he cracked his bleary eyes open to see Haedirn staring at him with such intensity that he knew his thoughts were echoed.
Haedirn wanted to rip the trees from their soil. Rage surged through his bones, and he fought hard to stamp it out. He'd felt so damn helpless watching her. As helpless as she'd been. For the rest of his days, he'd never be able to eliminate the vision of her crumbled in that decrepit room, a single stone against waves of agony. Nor would he forget the terror she felt as that orc crouched over her, as its weight crushed her, and the blood slicked her skin. Never again, he thought. Never will she feel helpless and alone again.
Maethor jerked his head in agreement, and a tiny flare of his own fury blossomed in his gaze.
Oropher gently guided Charlotte around to face him, and Charlotte cursed herself. Focus, damnit. Legolas. Legolas. Legolas.
"Celeborn has heard from Galadriel," Oropher said slowly. Still, Charlotte struggled to put the words together. She felt so much. So much that wasn't hers. "She tried to reach you first, but you must have been blocking her. Legolas has vanished from camp. They suspect he's somewhere in the forest."
Her Legolas? In the forest?
She shook her head. "Maethor? Haedirn?" Her voice was no more than a whisper. They staggered to their feet, albeit more gracefully than she had, and their eyes contracted and dilated as they tried to focus on her. She'd never be able to locate Legolas in her condition. When she found him, she was going to… to…
"How the hell do you punish an elfling?" She cried, and then the first terrified tear slipped through even as she smeared it away. Maethor and Haedirn stumbled toward her as if drawn to that tiny droplet. "Doesn't matter. First, we find him. Then we hug the crap out of him. Then we send him packing for Celebrían."
The ground swarmed up toward her face, and Oropher sighed painfully as he set her straight.
"I warned you," Celeborn said, his voice smug. He crossed his arms, and a flicker of amusement lifted his lips. "They'll be useless until their fëar settle."
Charlotte whirled on him, baring her teeth. It would have been more threatening if Maethor hadn't needed to step in and catch her, and if Oropher hadn't needed to rescue them both from collapsing. "My son is out there somewhere," Charlotte hissed.
Oropher jerked his head at the Elven lord. "Return to your host," he told Celeborn. "I thank you for your continued efforts to locate the Prince of the Greenwood."
"If we find him," Celeborn said, "we'll send him straight to Celebrían under guard."
He didn't wait for Oropher to agree and leaped into the nearest beech tree, vanishing into the forest. Charlotte stumbled after him.
"Woah," Haedirn said, looping his arm through hers just as she knotted her legs and toppled. Her two guards were recovering much faster than she was, and she said as much.
"You have completed two bonds this evening," Oropher explained. "Maethor and Haedirn have only completed one each. I would guess that it may take your fëa longer to acclimate to both bonds, especially since you may also function as a bridge between their fëar."
Great. She shook her head. Legolas was somewhere in the forest. She was not going to sit around while the orcs closed in and her elfling wasn't safe.
This time Maethor stopped her. "Charlotte, you can't normally run through the canopy, and right now, you're basically drunk."
"Am not—"
"We will find him," Maethor promised. "But not like this."
"What about the song?" Charlotte tried. "Is it possible to search for him through there?"
"I've already tried," Oropher said. "The forest feels… dark. Heavy. It was difficult to travel the song at all." He placed a hand on the rough bark of a towering white beech. "Are you two capable of getting her into the canopy, or should I do it?"
Her two guards— her two gwaethainn— exchanged a glance and their shoulders sagged.
"It's best if you take her," Haedirn said solemnly.
Oropher waited patiently for her brain to catch up and agree, and then he swooped her into his arms bridal style and took a running leap onto the nearest branch. They had to zigzag into the canopy, jumping from tree to tree, since, at best, Oropher only had one free hand to work with.
By the time Charlotte's feet were firmly settled on a thick branch, her head had cleared, leaving behind a vague hangover. "How long do we have?" Charlotte asked. The host had been mere hours away before the bonding ceremony, and she had no idea how long they'd been unconscious.
Oropher pinched his lips tightly.
"How long?"
"The first scouts were killed a half-hour ago," he confessed.
Charlotte's stomach twisted. They had no time. Her eyes darted to the trees around her. If she left… They'd lose one of their few advantages. As it was, only the warriors loyal to her were present. The rest were in the caverns, reporting to Cúthon, who was technically still the acting Steward until Thranduil could come home and deal with him. She hoped the sequestered elves would do what needed to be done when the time came, whether they were loyal to her or not.
But the idea of not searching for Legolas…
Oropher's face reflected her pain. "I cannot leave your side. Nienna was clear, and I learned my lesson the first time I made such an error."
If she left, she'd take her two guards and Oropher too? In one swoop, all leadership for the Eryn Galen host would vanish.
Her heart thundered. Legolas was out there though.
What would Thranduil do? She wasn't sure. He was fiercely loyal to his people, but this was their son. She'd said it on accident to Celeborn, practically intoxicated from the bonding ceremony, but it didn't make it any less true. She was betrothed to Thranduil, and when they married, Legolas would become her son. He had already claimed that title in her heart, and now, she would have to betray that fledgling bond.
Bile rose in her throat, and she buried her emotions deep beneath her skin. Each word felt like a knife sliding through her ribs. "Prepare the host. We'll continue as planned."
"Are you certain?" Oropher had pride and anguish in his own eyes.
Was she? Absolutely not. If anything, even a tiny scratch, happened to her little leaf… she'd never overcome the guilt. "Issue the order," she said, "and find Raenor. I want a small group to hunt for Legolas, and he'll lead it. He can pick his warriors, but Legolas is to be taken to the nearest safe location, preferably the western border with Celebrían." She would've sent him all the way to Beorn's if the skin-changer wasn't already standing on her side of the river, ready and eager to shred the incoming host with his teeth and claws.
"As you wish, Annuiel." Oropher bowed and ran along the branch, leaping into the adjacent tree to carry out her order.
A warm fëa bolstered hers, and Charlotte subtly leaned into Maethor, somehow knowing exactly where he was in relation to her body. "If he's not found within the hour, I'll rip this forest apart myself," she vowed. Her entire body craved it.
As honorable as Oropher thought she was in staying instead of searching for Legolas herself, she had to at least admit that she had another reason for remaining. A large part of this plan relied on her presence, and if she truly wanted to keep Legolas safe, she needed to help destroy this host before he could be threatened. Once she finished her part, then she'd hunt for him.
If she was still alive.
Neither Maethor nor Haedirn attempted to soothe her with empty promises, but the comforting embrace of their fëar settled some raw, jagged edge inside.
And then drums pounded, smashing through the trees, vibrating her bones.
Oropher landed hastily on the branch beside her and delicately placed two wooden buckets of arrows, the contents sloshing, at his feet. The green fletching floated like an island of tufted grass above the wooden shafts.
The breeze whipped her hair around her shoulders, and she shivered. Her feet were ice. She glanced down, eyes widening on her bare toes wiggling against the bark. Far below her in the clearing, two borrowed brown boots flopped against each other. She groaned.
"Charlotte?" Haedirn raised a brow.
She pointed to the boots she'd left in the clearing and shook her head. Drunk indeed. Maethor and Haedirn had left theirs in the tree canopy, at least.
Haedirn snorted, and after studying his own bare feet, he said, "I'll get them for you, right after I grab ours." Theirs were only two trees away.
"Get yours," Charlotte agreed, "but mine are lost to us now." She wasn't sending Haedirn alone into the clearing. Not as the drums surged in her ears. "They're too close, Haedirn. There's no cover for you down there, and they can't see you."
Haedirn begrudgingly agreed, though neither of her gwaethainn were pleased about it.
The bonding ceremony wasn't normally conducted barefoot. Oropher had encouraged it, not only because of her connection to the forest, but because most Silvan ceremonies and traditions were done either barefoot or with minimal to no clothing. She hadn't been prepared to go quite that far. Oropher had only laughed with affection and reassured her that it wouldn't be required.
She wiggled her toes on the smooth bark, and the answering thrum of life radiated up her legs. The urge to drop into the song to find Legolas or Thranduil was unbearable.
"I can feel your anxiety." Haedirn opened an arm so she could tuck herself close to his body, and Maethor shifted to press against her other side. She glanced down and saw they'd both reclaimed their boots. "We'd offer you ours, but that seems unwise," Haedirn said.
Charlotte snorted and shook her head against his shoulder. His feet dwarfed hers, as did Maethor's. She didn't particularly have petite feet; theirs were just so much larger. She would have slid around in their boots, and with what might come next, she couldn't afford to be slow and clumsy.
The drums thundered, growing closer, and pinpricks of flame appeared between the branches. "If everything goes really well," she said, "I won't even need to leave this tree."
Maethor and Haedirn squeezed her tighter, knowing by the crest of emotion in her that she didn't believe she'd spend the battle curled safely in the canopy. "We're all going to make it," Maethor said. His words stirred the loose hair at her brow. "And then we'll take you to chastise the young prince."
And then, if they did make it that far, she'd find Thranduil. He'd promised her he would fight to come home to her. Well, if he didn't come home on his own, she'd bring the fight with her.
A growl echoed through the night. It grew louder and louder with each addition, and goosebumps rose on Charlotte's skin. She'd never forget that sound. Her hands were slick, and she brushed them off on her tunic.
"I guess they've found me," she said. She didn't turn from the line of snarling beasts emerging from the trees as she told Oropher, "Prepare the first runner."
She felt the shift of air as Oropher followed her command. Please, let this work, she prayed.
From her post, she could see the Tithenduin glittering as if illuminated by the stars. Behind it, the first of the orcs crept out, its nose raised to the sky like a bloodhound. She knew the moment it picked up her scent.
"Here we go…" she whispered. Maethor and Haedirn gave her a final squeeze, and then their bows were out, their fingers twitching, ready to reach for the buckets of arrows at their feet.
She wished she had her dagger, but she knew she'd be reunited with it soon enough.
The orc host stumbled to a halt, three of the warped beasts snarling and growling at each other.
Charlotte bit her lip. "Come on," she mouthed.
One of the orcs, a creature with a boulder-sized growth over his eye and two slits for a nose, pressed his face to the soil. His gnarled fingers twisted through the autumn crisp grass. She tasted copper in her mouth as he scuttled closer to the water, following the path she'd laid hours ago.
Maethor and Haedirn had been forced to keep their distance, so their scents didn't mingle with hers, and they weren't pleased with being separated from her as she'd waded the river alone to lay the trail on the other side. Only Oropher racing ahead to guard her on the opposite bank assuaged their concerns.
The orc stopped at the water's edge. His nostrils twitched, eyes narrowed, and then his lips parted, revealing a mouth full of long, dagger teeth. His order was short, barked, and the host poured from the trees.
Splashing filled the air as their heavy boots dunked beneath the river's surface. Their arms lifted their swords over their heads to keep them from the water.
Charlotte's body tensed, and she began the count in her mind. Thirty seconds, a quarter way through the river. A minute and fifteen seconds, halfway. Her heart lurched. They were moving too slow. She needed them further into the forest before they succumbed. She glanced at Haedirn and Maethor. "You know what to do," she whispered.
Maethor dipped his chin and scooped her up. His feet were soft as they hopped from branch to branch, until Charlotte could feel the grass tickling her bare toes.
"Never alone," she whispered, cradling his face with her hand.
"Never again," Maethor echoed, covering her chilled skin. And then he vanished into the trees.
Charlotte studied the branches above her, lifting her chin to hide the fear in her heart. Slowly, faces, beautiful faces, emerged from the canopy, visible only for a second, but she saw them. Their white flowers flourished against their tunics, bloomed through their braids, and their fists clenched and pressed to their chests.
She turned, the clearing strangely silent, and sent one last message into the song, spearing it, hopefully, toward Thranduil. Find me.
And then she ripped off the veil hiding her fëa.
The river had already compromised the orcs' senses. Their eyes constricted as her light reached them, and she drove them into a frenzy. Snarls tore from their lips, and they were running, pushing each other through the water to seize her.
"Come and take me," she challenged and ran for the caverns, straight through the corridor of elves she'd arranged. She dove for her boots as she passed, ripping Amroth's dagger from its hidden sheath. The handle was cold in her fist as she flew into the trees, trying to pick up her pace.
Her bare feet pounded the grass. Invisible rocks pricked at her skin, and twigs slashed tiny red lines into her soles. The first orc cleared the water. Silence, such silence from the trees. The second and third orc hit the grass. The earth shook beneath her.
Their cries speared her back as the orcs rushed from the forest to cross the river, to hunt her. Hundreds of them dove for the water, their thick boots stirring up the silt until it turned the water a murky brown.
Charlotte leaped over a boulder and miscalculated the landing, turning at the last second and scraping her side against a tree. The bark left scratches across her cheek. She pumped her legs faster. The first orcs were gaining. She just had to last a few more seconds.
A thud spiked the ground behind her, and she pivoted, feet sliding across the grass as she turned.
The orcs fell like dominos, staggering and toppling in a line of crude swords and rough armor, a macabre road to the river. The lines bottlenecked behind the dropping orcs, until the host was left standing and growling in the water. And then even those orcs tumbled beneath the surface. Some were swept south with the current, but the others…
They sank to the bottom like stones, where they dreamed and drowned. Charlotte waited, eying the destruction with a twisting stomach. This moment would decide everything that followed.
How cruel were they? Would they halt at the river's edge? Attempt to march north to the crossing and lose sight of her?
A single orc, twice as tall as the others and pale as moonlight, met her gaze from across the water, and she shivered as something dark and familiar rose in its eyes. They hadn't counted on seeing him here, in any capacity.
He would know Thranduil's location. She would tear it from his useless body and leave him to drown in the river. Her foot moved forward on its own.
Two fëar tugged at her, caution echoing through her. Don't, they seemed to say. Charlotte shook her head and settled back into her skin, calming the irrational bloodlust, and the orc smirked. She glared at him. His face was cold as he barked an order, and then the orcs were wading into the river once more, stepping on the drowned creatures beneath the water.
Line after line sank beneath the current. Bile rose in her throat. Stay. She needed to stay visible. She took a step backward as the orc, Mairon's malice in his gaze, took his first step across the bridge of bodies, his heavy boots inches above the current.
And then she ran like hell.
She had to get them to follow her through the corridor, toward the caverns and the Elven host housed behind those stone walls. High in the canopy, two fëar flitted through the branches, running parallel to her path. Though she couldn't sense him, she knew Oropher was up there too.
Growling and snarling licked her heels, and she dared a glance over her shoulder just in time to dodge a reaching orc. A thick line of them followed behind him. They were too close. Too close for her to keep evading them.
The first arrow zoomed over her shoulder and slammed home with a sickening wet thump. Charlotte dared a second glance behind and watched the orc drop. Asleep.
Arrows poured from the canopy, and, finally realizing the trap they'd run into, the orcs scattered. A powerful horn cried into the night across the river, and then the flank of the host was screaming, fleeing as Elrond and Amroth swelled from the west, crushing them between Elven hosts.
Some stupidly fled for the water, dropping into darkness before reaching the tree line on the opposite bank. The river churned and surged in the chaos. The water turned dark with blood as they stampeded, crushing their own troops beneath their feet, unintentionally widening the bridge.
Maethor and Haedirn descended from the trees, coming instantly to her side, swords drawn. Charlotte's fingers tensed on her dagger. She wished she'd had more time. More time to figure this all out. More time to learn how to fight versus defend.
The smell of carrion was overwhelming. It burned through her sensitive nose as the host swarmed them like a black cloud. A horrible cracking sound erupted over the river, and Charlotte's blood froze as long hairy legs and endless eyes peeled from the canopy.
Spiders. At least twenty of them, trying to extend their massive limbs over the water.
Arrows dwindled. The bodies piled. The buckets of water, now emptied of their arrows, were dumped from the canopies, splattering clusters of orcs. Elves dropped from the canopy, landing like whispers with their silver blades reflecting her fëa as they stood between her and the oncoming horde. "We're too far away," Charlotte cried. If they didn't drag this closer to the gates, they couldn't count on reinforcements from within. "Send the second messenger," she ordered Oropher.
They had little hope on that front. Cúthon's military strategy had always been to attempt to wait out the battles while everyone else fought and died around him. But she wasn't after his blessing. She eyed the elves with white blossoms that surrounded her.
Oropher was back at her side just as the orcs slammed against their front line. The clash of steel rang out, melding with the symphony of battle across the river. Beorn ripped through the lines, shredding the orcs with his claws and tearing them apart with his teeth as he rushed for the first spider to cross the Tithenduin. The next spider slipped, its legs diving into the water. It crumbled and took out two of its fellows.
The elves slashed through the lines, matched well against the trickle of orcs from the river. But they just kept coming. More and more of them, streaming from trees, an endless supply of rot.
Orcs fanned around the small Elven host, and the first one to break through the lines dove straight for Charlotte. Maethor's blade whipped across its throat before it could reach her. This was her gwaethainn's least favorite part of the plan: Charlotte as bait. Her ellyn closed in around her, a tight circle daring anyone to try to pass.
Maethor was swept up in a battle with two orcs when one lunged into the gap between him and Haedirn. Charlotte didn't hesitate. She dropped under its arm, pivoted, and jammed her knife into his eye.
Oropher pulled his blade free from his opponent and slammed it through the screeching orc's spinal column. The body dropped, spasming at her feet.
"Stay in the ring," he commanded, as if she'd gone looking for trouble.
But he was right. She'd slipped out of the protective shield. Maethor maneuvered, so he was in front of her once more, but Haedirn couldn't close the gap before another orc came through the opening. Charlotte dodged, sliding along the outside of its arm, before whipping around to rip her blade across its throat. It gurgled and dropped, and another took its place.
She fell into a dangerous rhythm. Drop, twist, stab. Her dagger buried itself, again and again, the splatter coating her hands until she had to wipe the blood off on her stained tunic.
Charlotte had not trained for full combat. Her arms were turning to jelly, her legs quaking beneath her. Maethor and Haedirn sealed the opening as quickly as possible, but their plan of using her as a lure was going too well.
Where were the reinforcements from the caverns? Had the elves really locked themselves behind the walls? Submitted fully to Cúthon's insanity? Her small group was being overrun. Maethor was a blur between three orcs. Haedirn was unwillingly being forced from her side. She could still hear Amroth and Elrond clashing with the force across the river. Too far away to aid them.
The orcs crushed in around them, and dread filled her as she saw the mountainous pale orc prowling through the ranks.
"Retreat!" Oropher cried, catching sight of the creature, Mairon's latest illusion. "Retreat to the caverns!" He wrapped his fingers around Charlotte's arm and dragged her away. Maethor and Haedirn guarded her back as they ran.
The turquoise doors came into view, and the long bridge stretched from the forest to the sealed gates. The guards had to have spotted them by now. Where were they? Her lungs burned as she fled behind Oropher.
Pain erupted in her side, and she stumbled and slammed into the grass.
"Charlotte?" Oropher eyes filled with panic as he tried to tug her up. "Charlotte! Where were you hit?" His hands darted over her form, shoving her hand off her side to see the wound beneath. "There's nothing there?"
His eyes widened, but she was already pulling herself away from him. "Haedirn!"
Haedirn had crumbled face down five feet behind her, but she could see him struggling to get his legs underneath himself, to stand and fight. His side was already a vibrant red.
Charlotte slid on her knees and tugged his arm over her shoulder. His eyes widened, terror visible in his dark irises. "Run!" He barked.
She didn't waste energy on answering. Her back screamed as she hefted him from the dirt. Oropher slid into his position as rearguard, and they stumbled toward the bridge. Orcs pressed against them, and this time, Charlotte was defenseless when one slipped through.
He came roaring at them, sword high, and Haedirn flipped her under his body as they tumbled. But the blow never came. The beast fell hard on top of them, a green fletched arrow jammed deep into his neck.
Haedirn groaned and used his body to shove the orc off of them. His eyes roamed the empty mountain face. The arrow hadn't come from within.
A flash of gold whipped through the branches above them, and another arrow blurred through the air, slamming home in the eye of an incoming orc. Arrows flew from the trees, taking out anything that came close to Charlotte and her ellyn. When she finally saw their rescuer, she wished she hadn't.
"Legolas," she breathed. He shouldn't be anywhere near this. Another arrow zoomed overhead, and then the trees were still and silent. Legolas was out of arrows. "Stay in the trees," she prayed. "Please, don't come into this."
Her distraction cost her, and Haedirn's warning came a split-second too late.
She was ripped from him by her hair. Strands snapped from her scalp, and her hands reflexively flung up to tear at the orc dragging her away. She clawed and scrabbled at the thick fingers.
Haedirn's eyes were wide. He crawled through the grass, fingers ripping up the soil, but he'd never reach her in time. Maethor and Oropher desperately slashed through the ranks to get to her.
Too far. They were all too far away from each other.
Distantly, she heard her little leaf screaming. "Nana! Nana!"
She was not leaving her elfling. Charlotte settled into her bones. Think, she heard, her own voice soothing the frazzled nerves. Think.
Her feet kicked over a body, one of the orcs Legolas had felled, and madness filled her. Her hand flung out and tried to rip the arrow from its skull. She yanked, her hands sliding up the wood as the orc dragged her, but the arrow was lodged in the bone. The creature's sword wasn't. She scrambled to grab it, trying to lift the dense metal over her head without decapitating herself.
A low chuckle filled her ears, and Charlotte's blood turned to ice in veins. She knew that laugh. The orc kicked the blade from her fingers and flipped his grip, lifting her with bruising fingers around her neck. Mairon— Sauron— stared out at her from within the depths of the beast's eyes.
"You should've accepted my offer," he cooed, his smooth voice sounding foreign coming from the deformed orc.
Charlotte thrashed in his grip, clawing and kicking at anything she could reach. Maethor was screaming for her, caught behind the horde of orcs. Tears slid from her eyes as she found Haedirn, crawling, dragging himself to her. Mairon's free hand wrapped around the stone on her chest, and he gave it a sharp tug.
It refused to break.
He yanked harder, and the chain sliced the skin of her neck but held firm. Mairon's growl of frustration shivered across her face, and he spun the necklace around her collarbones, searching for the clasp. He ripped and tore at it before he shook her so hard her teeth rattled.
"Aulë," he hissed, and something manic filled his gaze. "Take it off," he snarled.
"Burn in hell."
"Pathetic," he snarled, "how willing you are to die for them. How foolish you are to not see." His eyes swept her body, and his voice turned mocking. "Tell me, little one. How soon after this pretty necklace fell into your hands did she die?"
The world shook as if she were caught in an earthquake. His satisfied huff of laughter skittered down her neck like bones clunking together.
"Convenient that the champion of the Lady of Grief succumbed so quickly after receiving her gift," he said. "How easily they deem who is worth the gift of life."
"And you don't do the same?"
Mairon shrugged, the movement tightening his fingers at her neck. She scratched at his wretched hand as her lungs heaved. "I am, at least, honest about it. The world I would create would have what they lack: equality, order. Every man, dwarf, and elf held at the same value, contributing to the greater function of Arda."
"Yes," she hissed, "all equally subservient."
Mairon shrugged again. "Do you not worship gods in your realm?"
"You are no god."
His eyes flashed, the pupils thinning like an adder's, flames scorching along the void, and Charlotte thrust backward in his hand. The teal doors to the caverns loomed behind her, resolutely shut.
"When I am through," he said, his voice cool as he pressed his mottled lips to her ear, "I will be the only god."
"When you are through," she spat, "you will be ash in the wind."
Behind her, a horn's cry rose to the skies, and arrows filled the air once more. The teal doors ground open, and the thunder of hooves shook the forest. The cavern elves roared through the orcs, cutting them down where they stood. Mairon's eyes flickered between the cavern and the southern forest.
"You'll never get another chance," she mocked. If she could just keep him here long enough, maybe someone could take him out. She knew if he took her, she'd never come home.
He tightened his hand around her neck, a snarl breaking over his jagged teeth. Blood trickled down her collarbones, diving into the valley between her breasts. Mairon's eyes followed the stream, and his eyes lit. He threw her into the dirt, and her head cracked against the earth. Spots erupted in her eyes, and she tried to scuttle away. The world tilted. A screech of metal filled her ears, and she peered blearily over her shoulder at the sword raised, aimed across her neck.
Charlotte tried to shove her fëa into the stone, tried to summon that feeling of love she'd used before. But the stench of decay, the blood, the insects, the crash of metal, and screams filling her ears… she couldn't get past the fear singing in her blood.
She was going to die here. Cut down by a madman.
Mairon screeched, a sound that shook her soul, and Charlotte flipped over and found a tiny blond elfling dangling from a familiar dagger in the orc's shoulder.
"Legolas!"
Mairon ripped Legolas from his back and flung him to the ground beside her, where he lay unmoving with Amroth's dagger in his tiny fist.
"Little leaf," Charlotte crawled to him, covering him with her body. His nose was bloodied, his eyes unnaturally shut. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She brushed the hair from his face, saw the blood leaking from his temple, dying his golden locks. She should've grabbed him the moment she spotted him in the canopy. Somehow.
He'd been so foolish, so brave. She found it hard to care as Mairon lifted his uninjured shoulder, rolling the muscles with a wince as he raised his blade once more. He'd hurt Legolas. Her little leaf.
Legolas had suffered enough already, and he'd still followed them here, still tried to save the people who'd betrayed him. Warmth bloomed against her tender skin, and Legolas's face was illuminated by the brilliant light of the necklace. Mairon stumbled backward a step but pushed on, fighting against a force she couldn't see. Charlotte gasped as she felt the stone tugging at her fëa, urging her light to burn brighter, and as she looked once more at Legolas, she realized.
Her power, the gift Nienna had bestowed on her, had never been focused on love.
Mairon was wrong; Nienna wasn't just the Lady of Grief. Charlotte cradled Legolas in her arms, and the thoughts came quickly then. The moments after his mother left, the way he still found joy and gave it to others, her precious harness with his wobbly stars that he'd made for an elleth just as alone as he had been. The stone burned brighter, searing her skin.
Thranduil. The way he led his people even though he feared failing him, knowing he'd failed them before and could do so again. Being brave enough to love again, despite the pain from Nemir. Having the courage to become the adar he'd always wanted to be.
Oropher facing down his trauma, seeing his people again, protecting her, and learning to live again. Maethor and Haedirn fighting by her side after seeing so much death and carnage in wars before her time. These people, these elves, battling for their new home after losing their old one, having lost so many of their loved ones to the last war.
Her fëa trickled into the stone, and she pressed her lips gently against Legolas's brow. She could give them this. Offer them this safety. She pushed on, feeling a grim satisfaction at the shrieking and burning of the orcs around her as the light illuminated them.
She could give them this. Mairon's sword dropped from his flaking fingers, and Charlotte narrowed her focus. Not just safety but vengeance.
The white blossoms were child's play to her plans now. She pushed the silver of her fëa wider, brighter, a bubble encapsulating the caverns, stretching down to the Tithenduin. It speared west to the plains, covered the Elf Path, curled over every tree and twig as far south as Emyn Duir.
And then she let white-hot rage burn, let it guide her, shape what she willed. She gently settled Legolas on the ground, claiming her dagger from his hand. Her eyes focused on Mairon. She would give them this. "Your slippery days are over," she said. Her nose flared and crinkled. Her eyes narrowed. "Never again will you beguile another with your form. You will always appear exactly as you are."
Her work was sloppy, a battering ram versus a scalpel, but it was effective. His body rippled, disintegrating as her light speared through him. Shadows sprouted around him like wispy snakes, ripping away his flesh. And Charlotte dove for him, slamming the dagger into his chest. The metal scraped against his ribs and thrust into his heart.
The shadows fled, leaving the gurgling orc behind, and Charlotte watched as it dropped to its death.
All around her, the elves were decimating the retreating host. Charlotte crumbled where she stood, feeling the dregs of her fëa flickering, trying to hold the shield. She forced more into it, even as her head dropped to the stones. Legolas's pale face reminded her: this needed to be permanent. He would suffer no more if she could prevent it.
The ground shook beneath her tired head, another horn cried out, and her bleary eyes saw the last thing she needed before she could let go: Thranduil, bloodied and filthy, leading the charge into the fleeing orcs. His host crashed into them from the east, sweeping through their frantic lines, cutting the orcs down where they stood.
Legolas would still have his adar.
She let her eyes drift closed. A small smile graced her features. Thranduil had once told her, "caring for others doesn't mean sacrificing yourself." But maybe this time it did. She regretted that Maethor and Haedirn would be forced to sail, but at least they would live now. She'd see them again, eventually. She had the rare blessing of knowing that there was something after death. Mandos had proven that. Oropher as well.
Something slammed into her side, and she heard Maethor growl, "You do not get to leave us." Their bond flared to life, and a shock ran through her. Her tired eyes peeled open, and her heart broke at the grief in his gaze, the way his bloodied fingers clutched her hand.
Another body landed against her with a groan, and she slowly flipped her head to find Haedirn grinning weakly at her, his eyes stark against his pale face. His fëa linked with hers through the bond with a jolt. Oropher was suddenly leaning over her, shifting her matted hair away from the gash on her forehead. "Don't you dare," he ordered.
But Charlotte ignored him. She squeezed the hands on either side of her, gave herself a moment to memorize their faces. "Never alone," she whispered.
And then she let the last of her fëa spear toward the necklace, locking the shield in place.
