The first thing Hérion noticed when he entered Thranduil's study the next morning was that the King was in a rather good mood. Which was odd in itself.

Usually a summons from the Elvenking was cause for dread and foreboding. Hérion, though, was unlike the rest of his kin and was not intimidated by Thranduil's tempestuous nature - regardless of how impressive it was - and today was no exception.

He had suspicions as to what his summons was about. One did not need the gift of foresight to know that it regarded yesterday's dismal riding...incident. He should have known that it would have been nothing but a disaster – disaster seemed to follow Charlotte wherever she went and whatever she attempted to do. He had tried his best, but there was only so much he could do when it came to the King's beloved.

But even with the knowledge that his King was not very impressed with him at this very moment, Hérion was not nervous, and, by all appearances, seemed unconcerned. He had seen Thranduil at his worst and had weathered many brutal storms when it came to the Elvenking's infamous wrath. Today would be no different.

Surprisingly, though, it was not a roiling storm that greeted him, but rather a relaxed and pacified ellon with contentment radiating from his very fëa, Thranduil appeared to be the very opposite of his usual frosty and formidable self, which stunned Hérion - though he hid it well.

He closed the door behind him and arched a brow at the King, who was languidly seated in his high back ornate chair, an inner light radiating brightly from within him.

"Please be seated, Hérion," Thranduil directed, gesturing with a slender-fingered hand in the general direction of one of the chairs stationed opposite the oaken desk.

Hérion settled comfortably into one of the chairs, crossing his long legs at the knee and clasping his hands in his lap.

"You are in a remarkably good mood this morning, my King," he said.

Unbidden, a smile curled the corners of Thranduil's mouth, his eyes burnishing with a twinkling gleam as a memory seemed to take over his senses.

Ah, the Lady Charlotte was responsible for the King's good mood, he thought wryly.

Then Thranduil quickly schooled his features and leaned forward, clasping his hands in front of him on the surface of the desk. He levelled Hérion with a stern look, but on closer inspection, Hérion could discern that there wasn't much heat behind that gaze.

"I shouldn't be...do you have any idea how long it took me to free Charlotte's hair from all those bramble twigs?" he asked, more in annoyance than anything else.

Hérion allowed a smirk to grace his face. "I imagine quite a while, considering that the both of you were absent from dinner last night."

Thranduil leaned back in his chair, not looking in the least sorry for having missed said dinner.

"I do hope you gave a plausible excuse for our absence."

Hérion scoffed. "I didn't have to. The whole kingdom got quite the eyeful when Lady Charlotte stormed up to your chambers. All could see from her..." Hérion paused, apparently searching for the right word, "...exceptional appearance that it would take quite some time for her to get cleaned up."

Thranduil gave him a disapproving glare, but, again, it was ruined by the amusement twinkling in his crystalline blue eyes.

"Would you care to tell me what transpired yesterday?"

Hérion rubbed thoughtfully at his chin. "Truthfully, I do not know. Gilroc is a compliant and docile horse, and I chose him for his gentle nature for this particular lesson, as Lady Charlotte is considered a novice rider. But as soon as she mounted him, it seemed that he wanted nothing more than to rid himself of his cumbersome burden." His frown deepened as he continued. "None of my tactics worked in settling him. He managed to toss her into the bushes no less than five times and after he threw her into the mud, she decided to call it quits." Hérion scowled at another memory. "I should also mention that Lady Charlotte unleashed a torrent of curses in my direction, some of which were quite colorful and...creative."

"I can only imagine," Thranduil deadpanned, knowing full well the language that could come out of Charlotte's innocent looking mouth.

"Needless to say," Hérion intoned, "Lady Charlotte does not, and I put emphasis on that word, have any sort of affinity with horses. It would be best to keep her apart from them at best of times."

"She has already told me as much, and I concur."

Hérion breathed out a sigh of relief at such wondrous news. Part of him had dreaded that Thranduil would insist on the continuation of the riding lessons.

"You can contain your excitement," Thranduil teased dryly, which earned a scoff from his advisor. "But that was not the main reason I summoned you here today."

Hérion arched a brow, Thranduil now having captured his pique. "Oh?"

Thranduil gave a nod, his penetrating gaze now solely focused on the other elf. "Feren reported to me that Calenmiriel has been observing Charlotte regularly of late."

"He speaks the truth." Hérion regarded Thranduil with a steady and unwavering gaze.

"You don't seem particularly concerned."

"Neither do you."

Thranduil remained silent, observing his advisor with a calculating look. "I am concerned, to a degree."

Hérion sighed and shifted in his chair. "If you are enquiring as to whether I think Calenmiriel will cause Lady Charlotte harm, then my answer would be no."

"But?"

"No buts. I think she is merely assessing, as you seem to have concluded yourself. Otherwise she would have been banished for long ago."

"Banishing her is not a simple matter."

Hérion nodded in agreement. "Yes. I don't think Legolas would take kindly to his aunt being handed that fate, if his reaction to Tauriel's own exile is anything to go by."

Thranduil became pensive at the mention of what had happened with Tauriel. He had made enquiries as to her whereabouts, but thus far there had been no sightings of the elleth. Thranduil had had to make peace with the fact that she had travelled to a remote location to fade; a fate he would have done so himself before he and Charlotte had been given a second chance.

"I am more concerned about Lady Charlotte's reaction, though," Hérion stated, cutting into Thranduil's musings.

Thranduil glanced up sharply.

"She was prepared to act rashly and go after Calenmiriel which, I'm sure, would have resulted in quite a showdown; something that would have torn down all credibility she had built up with your subjects."

Thranduil remained silent as he listened to the advice he knew Hérion would soon impart. The advisor did not disappoint.

"I managed to dissuade her and, surprisingly enough, I made her see reason. She knows now that it is imperative to think before reacting. I have been contemplating educating her in the art of diplomacy – she will certainly need such training for your upcoming trip to Dale."

Thranduil locked eyes with Hérion at the mention of Dale and when he spoke next, it was with careful deliberation.

"Charlotte has noticed that you have not been yourself of late, and she has even deduced that it has something to do with the former inhabitants of Laketown."

"Has she now?" Hérion stated sardonically.

"She is worried about you, my friend."

Hérion glanced up sharply at this remark.

"She even came to me to see what could be done," Thranduil continued.

"She is far too nosy."

Thranduil smiled, albeit a small one. "She is concerned, Hérion. For you. She is starting to view you as a friend."

Surprise flashed in those storm grey eyes, though Hérion quickly concealed the emotion, putting on a mask of indifference in its place.

"Yes, well, she never had much taste. You are proof of that." The mask dropped and was replaced by a rare display of teasing mirth.

Thranduil grinned back, unperturbed, but he had not been fooled by Hérion's change of subject. If the ellon did not wish to not talk about it, then he would respect that choice.

"Now, what action do you suggest I make regarding Calenmiriel?"

Hérion smirked. "Nothing."

Thranduil frowned; the frown threatening to morph into a scowl. "Nothing?" he growled. "Do you perhaps know something I do not?"

Hérion looked rather smug with himself as he gave a singular nod. "That I do."

Thranduil levelled with a look that he reserved solely for Legolas when the Prince was trying his patience.

Hérion chuckled in amusement and then leaned forward, a conspiratorial gleam flashing in his eyes. "I think you are rather going to enjoy this bit of information."

The weeks flew by in a flurry of activity, her days taken up with endless tutoring and sparring sessions. Charlotte and Thranduil would meet up in their chambers at the end of the day and freshen up for dinner, and after their meal they would have a few hours alone together before it was time to retire for bed. And then the whole process begin all over again.

Charlotte was holding out hope that after Dale things would calm down to a relatively more leisurely pace. Hérion was still being as relentless as ever with her tuition, his focus now on diplomacy, though she noticed that his attitude towards her had somewhat changed. Oh, he was still snarky and sassy and sarcastic as ever, but there was a certain degree of warmth to it than before. It made his lessons somewhat more bearable, though she still called him the Dungeon Master. Not to his face, of course.

Feren had hinted that after Dale he would start training her with the bow and even dual blades; neither prospect sounded appealing to her. Her skill with the dagger was so-so and she would be able to defend herself at close range, if she was hard-pressed enough, but she had a long way to go to mastering it. She didn't really want to think about the time she tried to hit a target with her dagger. Safe to say not one dagger hit. Not even close.

But as much as she detested training, she had to admit that it was paying off. Her reflexes and speed were marginally better, and she was not so out of breath as before. Maybe after a hundred years she would be as good a fighter as the other elves. Charlotte snorted to herself at that thought, especially when she thought back to Feren and Hérion sparring, and she made a mental note never to challenge an elf to a duel. She wouldn't last five seconds, unless said elf was in a magnanimous mood.

She had not spied Calenmiriel since that day with Feren and Hérion, but every now and then she would get the distinct feeling that she was being watched. But when she glanced around, she could see no one - not even a flash of gold hair disappearing around a corner to confirm her suspicions. This did not fool her, though; Calenmiriel was an elf and as such, she had an uncanny ability to conceal herself and remain hidden from sight, if she so wished.

The other thing Charlotte noted was that at dinner time, Calenmiriel would be seated with the rest of Woodland Realm, but the elleth refused to glance her way and chose to ignore Charlotte throughout the course of the meal. Charlotte wasn't complaining, though, but found it was rather unnerving, especially when she knew Calenmiriel was going out of her way at other times to observe her.

Something was brewing, that she was sure of, but she could not place her finger on what it was exactly.

Charlotte was trying to think up yet another plausible excuse to escape early from her lessons with Hérion. This morning's session had been rather grueling and her head felt like it was going to split from the headache that had ensued from said lessons.

"You seem preoccupied. What is on your mind?" Hérion asked, startling her from her thoughts.

"Um..." Charlotte froze, wondering if she should use her excuse now and make her escape, but another thought that had been nagging at the back of her mind for some time now came to the forefront. She decided now was a good a time as any to broach the subject.

"I was wondering why Calenmiriel does not eat dinner at the High Table with us. I mean, she is, technically, part of the royal family."

Hérion regarded her with an assessing gaze, and maybe she was imagining it, but she thought she saw a hint of approval at this train of thought.

"When Legolas is present, then she chooses to dine by his side at the High Table."

"Are her and Legolas close?"

"As close as Aunt and nephew can be. Calenmiriel became a mother figure to the young Prince when his mother...died." He said the last word on a regretful sigh.

Foreboding suddenly coursed through her. If Calenmiriel hated her, then Legolas, logically would hate her, too. This was not looking good. Not good at all.

"When Legolas is absent, Calenmiriel chooses to mingle with the rest of the kingdom. As a result, she has earned their trust and respect, and among many, their friendship."

Charlotte swallowed hard. If Calenmiriel really put her mind to it, she could turn the whole Woodland Realm against her...So why hadn't she? Or was she doing it in such a way that it could not be traced back to her?

She glanced up to see Hérion regarding her thoughtfully over his steepled fingers from the chair opposite hers. "You seem worried all of a sudden."

Charlotte chewed her bottom lip and then, haltingly, voiced her concerns. Hérion remained silent as he listened patiently, but oddly enough, he did not seem perturbed.

Finally, after the silence had descended long enough, he spoke up. "You talk as though you know her personally."

Charlotte gave him a puzzled frown. If she was not mistaken, there had been a hint of derision in his voice.

"Do you, who know nothing of Calenmiriel, really think she would stoop to such spiteful methods?"

Charlotte pursed her lips, feeling as though Hérion was, in his unique way, calling her stupid. "It's what someone in her position would do."

"In human society," Hérion pointed out. "Need I clarify that you are no longer amongst humans, but rather elves."

An angry retort was on her tongue, but Charlotte paused as his words from long ago came back to her. You need to start thinking.

What was he trying to tell her?

It almost felt as though he were trying to guide her to the answer without actually revealing what is was. It was frustrating, the tactics elves chose to use. Nothing was ever straightforward with them.

Hérion was studying her with an acute gaze, and decided to speak up.

"Now, I gather you were trying to find an excuse to make your daily rounds to the kitchen. There's no need for that as I have had quite enough of your presence for today. Please tell Aranhil that I would like some pizza for my lunch, if you would be so kind," he stated, rather brusquely.

Charlotte gaped at him; whether from surprise that he had spoken to her in such a way, or whether it was the fact that he wanted pizza, she could not tell. Probably the latter. She was rather used to the former by now.

As she departed from the room, she could feel his penetrating gaze trained on her, and she was once again rattled with the sense that he was trying to push her towards the answer.

She entered the kitchen and sat down at her usual spot by the table, pleased to note that a cup of tea was already waiting for her. It was as though Aranhil had an uncanny ability to know when she would show up for a visit.

She took an appreciative sip and glanced around. The kitchen staff were their usual efficient selves, bustling around with quiet and organized control. This still unnerved her, for Charlotte had always associated kitchens as raucous and chaotic at the best of times.

Elves were certainly a different breed altogether.

She startled when a tray of dainty biscuits dipped in chocolate were presented before her, and she glanced up to see Aranhil grinning down at her, his dimples showing plainly on his breathtakingly handsome face.

He untied his apron and draped it over the back of one of the wooden chairs before seating himself opposite her.

"Back again to sample some of my newer creations?" he asked, the easy-going smile never leaving his face.

Charlotte glanced back at the tray and had to smile to herself. In her world, these were by no means 'new' creations, but she supposed they would be in Middle Earth. She would not tell Aranhil this, though. She rather enjoyed seeing the glinting excitement flush his features when he created a dish that he thought she might particularly enjoy, and she really appreciated that he went to such lengths just for her.

"They look divine," she enthused, picking up a biscuit and taking a bite. Her eyes widened and she let out an appreciative groan. This, this was nothing like what she had tasted back in her world. Aranhil really had a knack for baking and cooking, where everything he made tasted simply divine and exquisite.

Aranhil's grin broadened at her reaction and he took a sip of his tea, watching her over the brim of his cup.

Finishing her biscuit in record time, Charlotte said, "Oh, before I forget, Hérion asked if you could make him some pizza for lunch?"

Aranhil rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "He is worse than the King. This is the fifth time this week he has requested it."

Charlotte chuckled. "And how many times for Thranduil?"

"Three times thus far."

Charlotte shook her head. Who would have guessed that the great Elvenking would be such a glutton for pizza?

Her thoughts drifted back to Hérion and their conversation regarding Calenmiriel. It still irked her. There was something she was missing. Something blaringly obvious. But what? And why Hérion's sudden change in attitude?

She drummed her fingers against the wooden surface of the table, her brows furrowing as she mulled over everything.

"What troubles you, my Lady?" Aranhil asked kindly.

She startled, having not realized that she had spaced out for a few moments. She eyed the chef, wondering how much to divulge.

"What do you know of Calenmiriel?" she asked cautiously. If Hérion was right and the elleth was well-liked and popular amongst the rest of the elves, it would not do well for her to bad mouth one of their own.

Aranhil peered at her thoughtfully over the rim of his mug. "I know of her well enough," he replied diplomatically. "May I enquire about your sudden interest in her?"

Charlotte sighed. She had not spoken to Aranhil about the other elleth; there had always been something stopping her from doing so. But now she needed advice from a different source.

"Do you know her story?" she asked slowly, her eyes downcast as she picked at an invisible thread on the sleeve of her dress.

"I do."

Charlotte raised her sights to the ellon before her. There was no trace of humor on his fine features, and instead he was regarding her rather thoughtfully. He placed the teacup on the table and clasped his hands in front of him, silently willing her to continue.

"I...I'm..." She faltered, unsure how to proceed with telling him everything without painting Calenmiriel in a bad light. With great difficulty, she retold everything that had happened from the night of her introduction to her suspicions that Calenmiriel was watching her on the sly.

Aranhil listened patiently, his features a mask of seriousness, though she could no longer read him. He was shielding his true thoughts from her, something she found disheartening.

She sighed in frustration and slumped back in her chair. "I'm not sure what to do Aranhil. I know she is hurting, especially considering that it seems like I'm taking her sister's place, which," she hastily added, "I am not trying to do." She drummed her fingers against the table. "Part of me thinks that I should talk to her, and another part of me thinks that a confrontation would not be a good idea."

"And do you truly believe that it would be a confrontation if you spoke to her?" Aranhil asked softly, but still in all seriousness.

Charlotte paused. "I...I don't know."

Aranhil reached over and patted her hand, a small smile now playing on his lips, much to her relief. Charlotte didn't think she could handle a serious Aranhil. "Would it surprise you to learn that I know Calenmiriel very well, more so than others."

"You know everyone, Aranhil. You're like the social butterfly here."

"True. But take me at my word. Calenmiriel is not the elleth you think she is."

"No, I don't think she is, especially if she had a part in raising Legolas." She clamped her mouth shut. No one, except a handful, knew of her true origins and that she held some knowledge of future events pertaining to Middle Earth. It wouldn't do to go around talking about Legolas as though she personally knew him, especially considering that she hadn't had the chance to meet him yet.

Aranhil, thankfully, did not seem to notice her slip-up and swirled the tea in his cup before draining it. "True. Calenmiriel may have a sharp tongue, but she does have a kind heart."

Aranhil leaned back in his chair and studied Charlotte for a moment, and she had the distinct feeling he was sizing her up. There was a certain cunning to his gaze; a look she had never associated with the teasing elf before.

"I think that it is high time that you and she had a talk. There are misconceptions on both your parts, and you may find that the truth is vastly different from your preconceived notions."

Charlotte gave him a sharp look. As with Hérion, Aranhil seemed to be urging her down a certain path.

"What are you trying to tell me, Aranhil?"

He smiled coyly at her and rose to his feet. "Nothing. But if you wish to clear things up, then I will tell you this: Calenmiriel can often be found in the gardens at this time of day. All it takes is for one of you to make the first move and extend the hand of friendship."

"What makes you think that she wants to be friends with me?"

Aranhil levelled her with a pointed look. "Because you are my friend."

Charlotte frowned in confusion. Aranhil was not making sense. Being his friend would not automatically make Calenmiriel want to be friends with her. Aranhil was popular, but he did not have that kind of power to sway the elleth's opinion of her.

Before she could question him, though, Aranhil strode off and made a show of being busy with preparing Hérion's lunch.

She sat there for a few moments, contemplating her choices. She eyed Aranhil, her curiosity now piqued. She knew he would not tell her anything more, and if she wanted answers, he had pointed her in which direction to go: the gardens.

Charlotte stopped before the archway made of twisting vines, the newly budded leaves vibrant green. Neatly trimmed hedges outlined the area within, and the fragrant scent of flowers wafted on the softly blowing breeze.

It was a beautiful spring day with the sun shining down on the lands, though the air was still cool and crisp from the retreating winter. There was a sense of renewal permeating the air. Spring was a time of rebirth; a time to start afresh.

Charlotte shivered as the cool breeze fluttered against the tendrils of her hair, and she drew her cloak tighter around her.

Should she go in?

Charlotte trusted Aranhil and knew he would not lead her into a trap of any sort. But part of her was still suspicious and nervous.

This could go very bad in a very short amount of time...

She drew in a breath and steeled herself. This needed to be done. She and Calenmiriel needed to have this conversation and settle things once and for all.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Charlotte stepped through the archway and halted, blinking as she thought for a moment that she had walked into another world.

The 'garden' was enormous, like something out of a Victorian era, with pathways paved with cobbled stones leading deeper into the maze of spectacular and breathtaking beauty. Vibrant hues of colors greeted her at every turn; lush, green bushes and flowers of the most magnificent pastel colors bordered the paths and filled the garden to capacity. In the distance she could hear the trickling of water, though its source was unknown.

She walked further along the cobbled path, her pace slow and unhurried as she took her time to admire the beauty that surrounded her at every turn, the scent of roses, lilac, lavender and jasmine filling her senses. There were other variety of flowers she did not recognize, but their splendor was no less lovely.

The path twisted and turned with gradual bends and eventually she came to an opening where a magnificent fountain stood, clear sparkling water trickling over each of the four tiers, the alabaster stone gleaming in the sunlight. Four statues, carved to resemble hauntingly beautiful elf maidens, had been stationed around it, and between each statue were stone benches etched with intricate detail.

And on one of the benches sat Calenmiriel.

She was swathed in a dress of ivory that was a shade darker than her own pale skin. Her long golden tresses hung down her back in soft waves and she regraded Charlotte with those brilliant green eyes that were ringed with orange. Not a bright shade of garish orange, but rather a toned hue that could be found gracing the leaves as they turned during the fall. The combination of the two colors had a startling, yet visually appealing effect.

Charlotte stood rooted to the spot.

"Hello, Charlotte," Calenmiriel greeted, omitting titles, which Charlotte noted.

"Calenmiriel," she greeted back stiffly.

Calenmiriel cast her eyes to the space next to her on the bench. "Would you care to join me?"

Charlotte tried to swallow, but her mouth was suddenly dry. "Depends. Are you going to try and kill me?"

Amusement flashed in those mesmerizing eyes and Calenmiriel gave a small, but genuine smile. "I can see why Aranhil is fond of you."

Charlotte frowned, remembering Aranhil's words. He had stated that he knew Calenmiriel rather well, and it seemed that the elleth was just as familiar with him. An uneasy feeling churned in the pit of her stomach, but before she could dwell on it, Calenmiriel continued.

"But, to put your mind at ease, I assure you that I will do you no harm. And if I try, I'm sure Feren will step in rather swiftly from his hiding spot."

Charlotte's eyes widened at this proclamation. "Feren is here?"

"Of course. He has taken to shadowing my every move," Calenmiriel stated matter-of-factly. "In fact, I do believe he is hiding in the shadows of the trees over there."

Charlotte's gaze followed the direction where Calenmiriel was pointing. She narrowed her eyes at a spot swathed in murky shadows and, after a moment, Feren stepped into the light so she could see him clearly. She gasped. If Calenmiriel had not pointed him out, she would never had known that he had been there. The Captain gave her a solemn nod, a silent assurance that he was keeping an eye on things and would indeed step in and protect her if things went pear shaped.

Turning her attention back once more to the other female, though she made no move to sit next to her, Charlotte narrowed her eyes and asked, "How did you know I would come looking for you today?"

"I did not." Charlotte raised a brow in a poor imitation of Thranduil, letting her disbelief show plainly. Calenmiriel ignored this and continued. "I had rather hoped that we would soon have an opportunity to talk." Calenmiriel smoothed the material of her dress over her lap. When she looked back up, all traces of humor had vanished from her porcelain features and was now marred with a look of consternation. "Though, I would wager that Hérion is responsible for putting all of this into affect."

Charlotte's frown deepened, and then coming to a decision, she came to sit next to the elf, though she was careful to keep some distance between them. She remained tense and alert, ready to make a run for it if the elf made so much as a move towards her. Though, knowing elves and their freakish speed, she would be long dead before she could spring to her feet.

"You think Hérion had something to do with all of this?"

Calenmiriel let out a huff. "Hérion is the consummate strategist. When he gets it in his head for something to happen, he usually does makes it so. So, to answer your question, yes, I am convinced that he is responsible for making this meeting possible. A few weeks ago he came to me and we had a little chat."

"About what?" Charlotte asked, though she already suspected what the answer would be.

"You."

Charlotte nodded, her suspicions confirmed.

Calenmiriel regarded her and then turned her attention back to the garden. "And also about me. He was concerned about my 'observations', feeling that they were a source of great...distress for you." The last statement was said rather sardonically, and Charlotte couldn't help but let out a snort, sure that Hérion had used another word to describe her reaction to Calenmiriel's stalking. Calenmiriel gave a small smile, and Charlotte's suspicions were confirmed.

"But you have still continued to watch me," Charlotte pointed out. "Even though I could never see you, I could feel you watching me."

Calenmiriel gave a noncommittal shrug, making the movement look ethereal and graceful.

"Why?" Charlotte pressed.

Calenmiriel stared resolutely ahead of her, but she finally turned her head to level Charlotte with a penetrating gaze. "My actions were not unwarranted. I was curious and I wanted to get a better sense of you without having to actually converse with you. I wanted to see for myself what all the fuss about, and what better way to do so than observe you when you thought you were not being watched."

Charlotte didn't really want to know what opinion Calenmiriel had formed of her, especially if she had witnessed her poor fighting skills.

"And now you want to meet me face-to-face. Has your opinion of me changed?" Charlotte asked carefully, not really believing this to be the case.

"And what do you think my opinion of you was before?" Calenmiriel asked with a brow raised, making her look far more superior than Charlotte could ever be.

"I know that you resent me, hate me even...because you think that I am replacing your sister."

Silence stretched before them, heavily pregnant with animosity at this statement, but Charlotte did not drop her gaze.

"Just so you know, I have no intentions of replacing your sister," Charlotte said evenly, her words sounding braver than what she was actually feeling.

Calenmiriel's eyes narrowed and then she abruptly turned away. "Do you know why I was so...hostile towards you the night you were introduced to the rest of the kingdom?"

Charlotte shook her head.

Calenmiriel sighed, the tension draining from her. When she spoke, her voice sounded almost monotone. "When I saw you and Thranduil together, I could immediately tell that you and he had bonded. He had formed a bond with you, a human," she stated, her voice rising to an incredulous tone, "when he refused to form one with Calemir. I was hurt. And, admittedly, very angry."

Charlotte remained silent, but decided to speak up, making sure to keep her emotions in check. Now was not the time to lose control and say something in the heat of the moment; words that she would later come to regret.

"I am truly sorry what happened to Calemir, and I know that Thranduil is also sorry and regrets what happened. But I will not apologise for bonding with him. I cannot apologise for falling in love with him."

Calenmiriel clasped her hands in front of her, a deeply thoughtful look crossing her alabaster features as she stared down at her entwined fingers. Finally, she met Charlotte's gaze. "I do not expect you to apologize, Charlotte." Charlotte blinked in surprise at this proclamation. "I have recently come to learn that we cannot help with whom we fall in love with." She glanced back down, and Charlotte found she had no words in response at this veiled response.

Time seemed to tick by in its ceaseless march, and still the two females made no move to break the lull.

It was Calenmiriel who finally spoke up, her voice softer, quieter. "Love is a funny thing. It has the power to change the heart; to change the mindset of the one with whom it wields its power over. I have seen these changes in Thranduil – I would be a fool not to have noticed so. I also have to admit that you have brought about these changes within him, Charlotte. Changes that are, if I admit, for the better." Calenmiriel paused, gathering her thoughts. "Love is a force to be reckoned with," she mused, though Charlotte thought it was more to herself than to her.

"I get the feeling that you are not talking about Thranduil and I."

Calenmiriel glanced up, her cheeks now tinged with pink, and then sighed. "Astute observation. Yes, my loved one has managed to talk reason with me and has even urged me to seek you out and talk to you. He speaks highly of you, and I find his judgement of others to be sound."

That sickening feeling returned. "Oh God! Please tell me it's not you and...and Hérion!"

Calenmiriel's eyes widened in surprise and then she tilted her head back, letting out a musical and unrestrained laugh. She finally managed to calm her mirth and shook her head, still chortling to herself.

"Good gracious, no! Though I can see why you would come to that conclusion." She gave Charlotte a pointed look as she asked her next question. "Tell me, Charlotte, who urged you to come seek me out here in the gardens?"

Charlotte blinked and then blanched. "Aranhil?!"

Calenmiriel gave a nod of affirmation.

Charlotte slumped back against the hard, cold stone bench, momentarily numb with shock. "I did not see that coming," she murmured.

"It is not common knowledge. In fact, only a handful, including Hérion, know of our relationship." Calenmiriel gave her a small smile. "When Hérion sought me out to find out what my intentions were, he made the suggestion that Aranhil be the one to point you in my direction. His reasoning was that you and Aranhil have struck up a firm friendship and that you would trust him."

Charlotte, still stunned from this revelation, remained silent, and thankfully Calenmiriel allowed her to process this bit of news.

"My, you elves are full of surprises. First Galion and Maerwen, now you and Aranhil."

She glanced at Calenmiriel, noting the amused light dancing in those entrancing eyes.

"So...you wanted to meet with me." The unasked question of 'why?' hung in the air between them.

Calenmiriel drew her bottom lip between her teeth. "Call it a truce, if you will."

"What? You don't want to become bosom buddies?" she asked sarcastically.

Calenmiriel shot her a withering scowl. "Don't be absurd. You and I are have quite a road to travel yet before even contemplating becoming friends." Calenmiriel visibly worked on reigning in her emotions. Then she let out a defeated sigh. "You are good for Thranduil. Even I have to admit that." Calenmiriel paused as she thought carefully about her next words. "I love Aranhil deeply, but we have not formed a bond yet. If anything should happen to me, I would want him to live on and find love again. Calemir would have wanted the same for Thranduil. And, as loathe as I am to admit it, I think she would have approved of you."

All the air seemed to have fled Charlotte's lungs at this statement and all she could do was stare at Calenmiriel, her mouth hanging open.

"Please do close your mouth," Calenmiriel snapped. "Else the flies will soon take residence."

Charlotte snapped her mouth shut and crossed her arms over her chest. Thranduil hadn't been kidding when he had stated that Calenmiriel had a sharp tongue.

"So, a truce then?"

Calenmiriel hummed in agreement.

"No more stalking?"

"Unless it is for my amusement...I find that your sessions with Feren are highly entertaining."

Charlotte flushed, recalling how her ass had been handed to her more times than she cared to admit. Feren really was a ruthless instructor.

"You have a very vindictive streak. You and Hérion would have been far better suited for each other," she muttered.

Calenmiriel shot Charlotte a look, a retort no doubt on the tip of her tongue but stopped when she saw that the human woman was grinning widely at her, obviously teasing her.

"We would have killed each other for long ago," she conceded.

Charlotte snorted at this.

Calenmiriel rose gracefully to her feet, smoothing her dress in the process. She stood before Charlotte, silently regarding her and then inclined her head. "Until we meet again, Charlotte."

Charlotte stood as well. "Thank you for talking to me, Calenmiriel."

Calenmiriel gave a small smile. "It needed to be done." And with that, she spun on her heel and glided away in a flourish of ivory and gold.

Charlotte watched her disappear amongst the flowers and shrubbery, feeling thoroughly bemused by this turn of events.

"My Lady?" Feren enquired, having suddenly appeared by her shoulder to check on her.

"Well, that was unexpected," she mused.

Hérion and Aranhil had somehow managed to achieve the impossible.

Thranduil really needed to give her two boys a raise, and she intended on telling him as much when she saw him tonight.