The rising morning sun stretching lazily over the horizon found a certain elf already up and dressed as he stood by the window, internally keeping track of the passage of time as the new day dawned.

The bursting golden rays from the sun reflected upon Legolas' electric blue orbs and spun gold in his silver strands of hair as he stood unmoving by the window, his hands clasped behind his ramrod straight back. He was dressed in a simple forest green tunic and earth brown breaches, and his platinum blonde hair was tied back in his traditional warrior braids, revealing his breathtakingly handsome features and fine bone structure.

He watched as the sun rose higher still in the sky, chasing away the shadows of the lingering passage of night. The minutes stretched into a full hour, yet he did not move from his position.

His mind was abuzz with everything that had transpired thus far and the complication that was Charlotte. Admittedly, he did not know what to think.

His thoughts drifted to the previous night and how he and his Ada had feasted on pizza and had drunk far too much wine than was considered healthy. A small smile curled at his lips at the memory. It had been rather refreshing to pass the night in such a way, and Legolas had to admit that the obvious change that had overcome his Ada of late was not only noticeable, but also welcomed.

Gone was the coiled tension, as well as the cold indifference Thranduil often outwardly displayed, and now in its place now was a certain lightheartedness, as well as fatherly affection, which Thranduil had seldom showed in public before. It was a rare sight, indeed, to witness.

Legolas puzzled at this change and secretly admitted that he was not opposed to it. Quite the opposite actually. But, like with everything, this change was going to take some getting used to. And acceptance, especially of the certain someone who had brought about said change, was going to prove even more challenging.

Legolas cast his mind back to his encounter with Charlotte. Did he resent her? No, he could not say that he did. Did he dislike her? Legolas smiled to himself at the whimsicalness that was utterly Charlotte and shook his head. No, he did not dislike her, either. But he needed to find out more about her. And in order to do that, he needed to spend time with her. He did not know if he was quite ready for that yet, but knew it needed to be done.

He tilted his head fractionally to the side as the noises of the waking kingdom filtered through to his pointed ears.

He could not put off having a conversation or two with Charlotte, but that would have to wait for later. For now, he needed to seek out a few others; others that could answer some important questions for him.

Turning on his heels, Legolas strode gracefully to the door and yanked it open. Already he could smell the delectable aroma of baking bread wafting through the halls of the palace, and his stomach gave a hungry growl in response.

Maybe a detour to the kitchen wouldn't be a bad idea. Aranhil surely would have something delicious to nibble on...

With that in mind, Legolas' feet seemed to guide him towards the kitchen without a second thought. As he neared kitchen, the multitude of aromas cascaded over him, making his hungry stomach growl even louder than before.

He stepped through the archway, intent on getting something to eat, and halted on the threshold.

The kitchen was a hive of efficient and well-organized activity, though the atmosphere was warm and welcoming as the kitchen staff went about merrily with their duties, each with a smile and a musical laugh on their lips as they talked amongst themselves.

But he noticed none of that.

Instead, his attention was now centered on Aranhil and his aunt, Calenmiriel, who were sitting side by side, talking softly to each other with beatific smiles on each of their porcelain faces as their heads almost touching as they conversed. From his position, Legolas could clearly see that their hands were entwined with each other's under the table. And the smitten look on each of their features was another dead giveaway as to what was actually going on between them.

Legolas stood rooted to the spot, stunned by the revelation that a relationship had formed between Aranhil and his aunt. He hadn't even heard a whisper of anything happening between them before now.

By the Valar! I go away for two months and everything as I know it has completely changed, he thought to himself, unable to tear his gaze away from the sight before him. By some miracle he did not openly blanch at the sight.

Calenmiriel laughed at something Aranhil said and turned her head slightly to the side, doing a double take when she noticed Legolas standing in the archway. She froze, her eyes widening spectacularly in surprise.

Time seemed to some to a standstill and then she suddenly came to her senses. Leaping to her feet, she rushed towards Legolas and enveloped him in a warm and affectionate embrace.

Legolas stood unyielding and then blinked out of his stupor before hugging her back.

Finally, Calenmiriel pulled back enough to gaze up at her nephew, clasping his hands in her own.

"You're back, Legolas," she stated, a wide and happy smile planted on her face, and her eyes shining brightly with joy. "I thought it would be many moons before I laid eyes on you again," she said, her voice becoming tinted with sorrow at that prospect.

Legolas cleared his throat. "I, too, thought it would be a while before I returned home. But Ada sent word..." he trailed off.

Calenmiriel nodded in understanding, fully comprehending as to what had brought her nephew back to the Woodland Realm.

"You must have many questions then."

Legolas gave a nod. "I do," he replied. "But firstly, I want to know when...this," he said, motioning with a long-fingered hand between her and Aranhil, "happened?"

Calenmiriel actually blushed and ducked her head in embarrassment, though a cheery smile graced her full rose lips.

Legolas glanced over at Aranhil, who merely chuckled over the rim of his cup as he took a sip of his tea. Setting his cup back down, he rose fluidly from his chair.

"Come sit down, Legolas, and I'll bring us something to eat," he stated good-naturedly as he strode from the table and went in search of some edible goods for them to eat.

Legolas glanced down at his aunt, who was watching Aranhil walk away with a sappy smile on her face. Legolas rolled his eyes and desperately tried not to actually blanch this time. Calenmiriel was not one for sappiness.

Calenmiriel turned her attention back to Legolas, not looking ashamed in the least at openly ogling her beloved and guided him towards the table.

"So?" Legolas prodded as he and Calenmiriel sat down.

His aunt took her sweet time sipping from her delicate china cup. Finally she placed it down on the surface of the wooden table and folded her hands primly in her lap as she regarded Legolas.

"My relationship with Aranhil is new," she started.

"How new?"

"Two months, though we have discussed it extensively before. It was only after you left and Thranduil introduced Charlotte to the kingdom that we decided to...take the next step in our relationship."

Legolas leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. He regarded his aunt in all seriousness, his features a well sculpted mask that hinted at none of his thoughts. It was obvious that her relationship with Aranhil, though freshly new, was serious. There were so many questions he could ask, but, ultimately, none of them would matter. Except one.

"Does he make you happy?" Legolas finally asked. In all his two thousand years, Legolas had never seen his aunt with another. And he had never seen such happiness grace her features before. It was an unbridled kind of joy, and he found he could not be against something that brought her so much joy.

The same could be said for your Ada, a sneaky voice reasoned in his head, drawing Legolas up short. Could he really deny his father the same happiness; a contentedness that Charlotte had somehow brought to Thranduil's life? Legolas swallowed thickly, knowing deep in his heart that he could not. To be against something as beautiful as a sacred bond between two that truly loved each other would be cruel and callous. Two attributes he most certainly was not.

Calenmiriel gave a soft and happy sigh, her eyes still sparkling with an inner light, and nodded in answer to his question.

Legolas studied her a moment longer, noting the pink tinge to her cheeks as she grinned openly at him. She truly was happy. He finally reached over and took her smaller and daintier hands in his own.

"Then I am happy for you," he said with sincerity, giving her a small and genuine smile, along with a squeeze of his hand.

"Thank you," she whispered, looking both relieved and delighted at his acceptance.

Just then Aranhil showed up with a platter of freshly baked bread, cheese and fruits, and laid it upon the table. A cup of tea soon appeared at Legolas' side and the Prince took a sip of the warm infusion, his thoughts swirling around and around in his head as he drank his tea.

He could not deny, after getting over the initial shock, that he was, indeed, happy for his aunt. She truly did look happy and content, and his heart was gladdened at the sight. She had suffered long and hard with her heartache at the loss of her sister, his mother, and deserved all the happiness she could get.

His heart twisted at the thoughts of his mother; an elleth with the kindest and purest heart who had been taken from their lives far too soon. The void that her death had left in their lives had been all-consuming and crippling, and it had been almost too easy to fall into a state of despair and grief. The fact that his aunt had risen above her grief and resentment and had found a rare chance of happiness was a delight to witness.

As Legolas watched Aranhil and Calenmiriel automatically hold hands, such a simple act that conveyed a much deeper emotion, his thoughts drifted to his Ada and Charlotte. He blinked, realizing that the same look that graced his aunt's features was also present upon his Ada's own.

My Ada truly does love this human woman, Charlotte.

"What are your thoughts on Charlotte?" he asked, trying to sound for all the world as though this wasn't a question that weighed heavy on his mind.

Calenmiriel momentarily stiffened, and then cast her gaze downwards, looking in this very moment...remorseful. Ashamed even.

Legolas frowned. Thranduil had hinted that Calenmiriel had been opposed to his union with Charlotte, but he hadn't quite elaborated as to the extent of her opposition. Now, seeing the shameful look gracing her face, Legolas had to conclude that she hadn't exactly been kind, warm and welcoming towards Charlotte.

Did he want to cause the same amount of grievance towards his Ada and his beloved, when they had already been through so much?

It was Aranhil who cleared his throat, the usual teasing that seemed to be always present on his features absent and was now replaced with rare seriousness.

"Charlotte is a good woman, Legolas. I have grown quite fond of her and cherish our friendship, and I have personally seen the changes she had wielded by doing absolutely nothing but by just being herself."

Calenmiriel nodded slowly in agreement. "Yes. I will admit that in the beginning I wanted to hate her. I despised that she was taking your mother's place and was casting her memory in the shadows. But after observing her for some time and seeing the woman that she is, I know that my previous thoughts were...childish and uncalled for," Calenmiriel admitted. "And I have had to conclude that she is good for the kingdom." She sighed and reached over, taking Legolas' left hand in her own. "She is good for your Ada, Legolas. This I know deep in my heart, having witnessed the changes she has brought about in him. The whole kingdom has noticed it as well."

Legolas stared at his aunt, his gaze intensely penetrating as he studied her. Then he sighed and leaned back in his chair, his hand still clasping hers.

"Yes, I will concede that you are correct, but you've had two months to adjust to this news. I have still yet to get to know the woman and draw up my own impressions of her."

Aranhil smirked. "Then I suggest that you find her and talk to her," he stated simply.

Legolas lowered his gaze from the other ellon and remained silent for the longest while. Finally he spoke. "I'm afraid that if I do so, I will, indeed, grow to like her. I found my earlier interaction with her surprisingly...pleasant," he mumbled.

"And would that be such a bad thing?" Aranhil enquired softly.

Legolas thought about his question. Would it really be such a bad thing to like the woman who would soon be his Ada's wife? Before he would have thought that it would have been a betrayal of his mother's memory. Now...now he wasn't so sure.

He glanced up at the Master Chef. "How did you and Charlotte become friends?"

Aranhil's smile stretched wider at the memory. "She wandered into the kitchens once day, lost and hungry. I took pity on her."

Legolas frowned. "As simple as that."

Aranhil gave a nod. "As simple as that."

"Aranhil has practically known her since her first day here," Calenmiriel pointed out. "It was he that was able to get me to see reason and seek her out. As I grew to know her more, the more accepting I became of her."

Legolas fell silent, contemplating his aunt's words.

Calenmiriel continued. "My relationship with Aranhil has made me come to the realization that we cannot deny who our hearts choose, Legolas," she added softly. "Your Ada loves Charlotte dearly and his heart has chosen her to be his bond mate. And she loves him just as equally. Who are we do deny them that?"

Silence descended upon them as Legolas digested all that had been presented to him. Finally he lifted his gaze to meet each of their own.

"I will not begrudge them their love, just as I will not begrudge the two of you your relationship," he stated, giving them each a pointed look. "And I will endeavor to seek Charlotte out and get to know her better. It helps to know that she is a good woman and has my Ada's best interest at heart."

Aranhil gave Legolas a wink before taking a sip of his tea. Calenmiriel merely gave him small and proud smile.

"I think you shall find that you will be quite annoyed with yourself at just how easily you will come to accept her," she remarked dryly.

Legolas sighed. "I think, in a way, I am already half-way there. But I do have one very important question."

Aranhil raised a brow. "Oh? What is that?"

Legolas took a deep breath through his nose, his nostrils flaring, and then let it out before voicing his question.

"I would really like to know how it came about that Hérion came not only to tolerate her, but accept her as well?"

Aranhil let out a musical laugh that filled the room with his mirth. "I think tolerance is stretching it a bit far, Legolas," he chuckled before sobering. "Theirs is an odd friendship, that I admit. It is a friendship that is more akin to bickering siblings than anything else. But," he continued, placing emphasis on the word, "they respect each other and are protective of each other. Hérion would see no harm come to her, and likewise with Charlotte. For all the grumbling she does concerning the royal advisor, she would never let anything happen to him or wish ill upon him. I think she is rather fond of him, and he is just as equally as fond of her. They just won't willingly admit it."

Legolas frowned, feeling more puzzled than anything at this revelation. Hérion avoided humans at all cost, flat out refusing to attend annual treks to Laketown for the required trade relations. The fact that he not only tolerated Charlotte, but had struck up an odd, but true, friendship with her was astounding, to say the least.

Legolas reached over and plucked up one of the pastries resting upon the platter Aranhil had brought to the table. When he bit into it, his taste buds practically exploded. It took everything not to moan in elation.

"What is this?" he asked, swallowing down his mouthful and eyeing the half-eaten pastry in his hand in wonder.

"It's called chocolate. I was playing around and decided to fill the pastries with it. Do you like it?"

In answer, Legolas shoved the remaining morsel in his mouth and reached for another.

Calenmiriel chuckled and shook her head. "You have not changed in the least, Legolas. Your appetite knows no bounds."

Swallowing his bite, Legolas turned to Aranhil. "Where did this recipe come from?"

"Where do you think?"

Legolas mentally sighed. Of course it had been Charlotte. His thoughts drifted to the pizzas he had shared with his Ada the previous night, and he mused that he could be more accepting of her if she continued introducing such delectable dishes to the kingdom. Pizza was now firmly a favorite dish of his, and now this 'chocolate' would soon become one as well.

Legolas finished the pastry and stood fluidly, now determined to get on with the day. There was much to do and even more information to glean. He needed to have the inevitable conversation with Charlotte, that he knew for sure. Each step he took was taking him closer to her.

But there was one more he needed to seek out first.

Hérion.

Charlotte opened her eyes and let out a wide yawn as she stretched languidly in the massive bed that practically swallowed her up. She stared up at the high ceiling, her thoughts drifting as to what she was going to do today. It was the weekend and she had no lessons with either Feren or Hérion, so the day was hers to do with what she pleased. Though, Thranduil still had royal duties to attend to, so she was going to have to occupy herself for the time being.

It had been late when Thranduil had crawled into bed, but he had forewarned her that he was going to be having a conversation with Legolas and that it would be best if she didn't wait up for him.

She smiled at the memory of him stumbling into the room, clearly very tipsy and smelling suspiciously of pizza and wine. His exceptionally good mood only confirmed that his meeting with Legolas had gone well, or maybe better than he had expected, and she felt better at ease knowing that the rift between father and son was healing.

Her thoughts drifted to Legolas and she felt the familiar jump of nerves at the thought that he was handling the news of her upcoming marriage to his father. She had no idea how she was going to handle it if he all but outright refused to accept her. Maybe it was best not to dwell on such thoughts yet.

Flinging back the covers, she padded to the bathroom and quickly washed up before dressing in simple tunic and breeches, which was paired with supple leather riding boots. Today she was planning on spending the day with Tallagor.

She returned from the bathroom to find breakfast already waiting for her on the table and she smiled to herself, still not quite knowing how Galion could sense when she was up and ready to face the day. That elf sure had either a freaky sixth sense or exceptionally good hearing. Or maybe it was just years of training.

Charlotte quickly ate the meal that consisted of eggs, toast and sausages, downing it with freshly squeezed orange juice. Now fully awake and ready for the day, Charlotte made for the door before she paused, her hand on the handle. She glanced back over her shoulder, her gaze landing on the two gleaming daggers Feren had given her.

She frowned slightly, recalling Legolas' surprise that Feren had gifted her with them, and she pondered briefly as to the significance of it. She had just assumed that it had been a thoughtful gift from an ellon who had fast became a friend; a gift that was given out of fear for her safety. Charlotte shuddered as she recalled how those daggers had saved her from those ghastly spiders, knowing that she was indebted to Feren not only for the blades, but for training her as well.

Making a last-minute decision, Charlotte backtracked and sheathed the daggers in her boots, mentally reminding herself to thank Feren later on.

Flinging her earth toned cloak over her shoulders, Charlotte stepped out of the bedroom and made her way to the stables.

As she strode down the various hallways of the mountainous palace, quite a few elves stopped and inclined their heads respectfully towards her. Charlotte knew the correct protocol would be to nod back or offer a formal greeting, but she chose instead to give them a friendly wave and a sunny smile in return. More oft than not her smile would be returned with one of their own, the citizens of the Woodland Realm now quite used to her odd ways and total disregard for stiff formality.

She entered the stables and made her way to the very back where Tallagor's stall was located, unsurprised to find the greedy moose nosing through his feeding trough and picking out his favorite fruits and vegetables.

Tallagor lifted his head at her approach and let out a happy sound that was something between a bellow and a snort before dipping his head, his focus once again concentrated on eating his food.

At least he made and effort to give me an enthusiastic greeting, she thought amusedly to herself as she leaned against the wooden rails, her hands clasped in front of her as she watched him with a fond smile tugging at her lips.

"Feel like going for a ride?" she asked.

Tallagor gave a snort, his nose still buried deep in his trough. It was almost as though he were saying, After I've finished eating.

Charlotte chuckled and shook her head. "You really are a greedy one," she stated as she reached over, stroking the top of his head affectionately. "But I wouldn't have you any other way," she mused softly. And it was the truth. She wouldn't change a single thing about her faithful stead.

"He certainly is one of a kind," a soft and musical voice sounded from behind her.

Charlotte whirled around to find Legolas standing a few feet away from her. His posture was relaxed and non-threatening as he watched the interaction between human and moose, his electric blue eyes sparkling with an inner light.

"Legolas," she squeaked, suddenly nervous that he was here for the confrontation she feared and was so not ready for.

"Charlotte," he greeted back, inclining his head slightly to the side.

They stared at each other for a few moments, the silence stretching between them.

"Um, your father is in his study, I think," she hastened to explain.

"I was not looking for him," Legolas replied casually. He seemed to come to a decision and strode forward, coming to stand beside her, though his gaze was trained on the moose still rooting through the food and completely ignoring both elf and human.

"Oh?" she asked, twisting her hands together in front of her.

Legolas slowly turned his head to the side, locking his penetrating gaze on her. "I was hoping to find Hérion here. He can often be found here during his free time with his horses. He is naturally gifted with them."

"So I've heard. He did try to teach me once, but I ended up being thrown into a bramble bush by one of the horses. It took your Ada ages to get all the twigs and leaves out of my hair," she remarked, trying not to sound sullen at the memory.

Legolas' gaze flickered to her unruly mass of dark waves, and an amused smirk graced his features as he envisioned what she had just described.

"Be thankful it was not I who was graced with the task of detwigging you. I would have sheared your head and have simply been done with it."

Her hand flew up protectively up to her hair. "You wouldn't!" She paused, asking more timidly, "Would you?"

His smirk broadened. "No, but I am fairly certain the thought crossed my Ada's mind more than once during the whole ordeal."

Charlotte thought about it. "You're probably right," she admitted, turning her attention back to Tallagor, who was now noisily lapping at his water trough. "So what did you need Hérion for?"

"I just wanted to talk to him," he answered evasively.

Charlotte turned her attention back to him, noting that he refused to meet her gaze, and put two and two together. Legolas wanted to fish information from Hérion about her. Which was hardly surprising. She would be doing the same if she were in his shoes.

Well, seeing as he was here, she was going to fish for information of her own.

"I wanted to ask you something?"

Was that curiosity she saw gleaming in his eyes when he looked at her, his one brow raised questioningly.

She continued, not waiting for a reply. "A thought occurred to me earlier on. Why were you surprised that Feren gave me those daggers?"

Legolas regarded her thoughtfully, though his features remained annoyingly unreadable. For a moment she thought he was not going to answer her, but finally he took a deep breath and spoke. "The fact that he gifted you with weapons of his own making signifies that he has accepted you not only as a friend, but also, I would wager, as his Queen."

It was Charlotte's turn to be surprised. "Really?"

Legolas gave a single nod and she mulled over this bit of information.

Charlotte reached down freed the dagger from the inside of her boot, studying the gleaming blade with renewed awe and respect. "Did Feren really make these?"

"Yes. Feren is highly skilled in the art of making weapons, though his true love lies with the Guard."

Charlotte gave a nod, the dagger still balanced in the palm of her upturned hand. "When he gave me these, I thought it was only because he was concerned for my safety and that I would need some form of protection."

Legolas gave her a half amused, half pitying look. "That, too. Though I have to wager that you do not know much of elvish customs if that was your only assumption."

"I'm learning. Thranduil and Hérion are teaching me," she retorted.

Legolas stared at her with an unblinking gaze. If he was unamused by her lack of knowledge, he did not show it. Crossing his arms over his lean chest, he decided to explain.

"When an elf bestows a gift to another, especially one from a different race, it usually signifies that the elf considers that individual a friend. A true enough friend to entrust such a valued gift to." Legolas extended his hand, silently asking her for her dagger, and after a pause Charlotte tentatively handed it to him. Legolas studied the fine craftsmanship of the blade with an appreciative eye before handing it back to her.

Charlotte sheathed it back in her boot and straightened, meeting his gaze.

"Those were some of the first weapons that Feren ever made," Legolas continued. "He values those twin daggers and takes exceptional pride in then as they were one of his first successes in his attempt at crafting weapons. The fact that he gifted them to you means so much more than you realize. He practically announced that he not only accepts you as his Queen, but as a dear friend as well," Legolas explained. There was not an ounce of venom in his explanation, but rather intrigue at Feren's silent proclamation.

Charlotte blinked, shocked at this news. At the time she had not realized the significance of Feren's gift, but now she did. It was an odd thought to be accepted in a world that was not originally her own yet rejected in the one she was born into.

"It would seem that you have gained the respect and protection of those loyal to my Ada," Legolas mused, more to himself than her, though his studious gaze never left hers.

Charlotte, though surprised by this statement, let her thoughts drift to her other protector, Hérion, and she frowned. Lifting her gaze to the elf before her, she asked rather boldly, "And what of Hérion?"

"What about him?" Legolas asked, Charlotte not missing the guarded look that now graced his features.

"You also seemed shocked when you learned that he was tutoring me. Why?"

Silence stretched before them; Charlotte holding her breath as she hoped that Legolas would finally tell her Hérion's tale, and Legolas weighing up internally whether to tell the human woman or not of said tale.

Finally he uttered, his words carefully spoken, "It is unheard of for Hérion to associate with humans. At all. At least, not in the last thousand years. The fact that he is not only tutoring you, but regards you as a friend as well, is surprising in itself."

"But why?" she pressed. "Yes, in the beginning it was a bit awkward, but I now consider Hérion a dear friend and I cannot understand why my being human has anything to do with his past."

Legolas pressed his lips together, unwilling to say more on the matter.

"It is wonderful to hear that you consider me a friend when I, on the other hand, consider you an annoyance that refuses to leave me be," a familiar and sarcastic sounding voice sounded from behind them, making both Charlotte and Legolas whirl around to come face-to-face with none other than the royal advisor himself.

Hérion stared at them sternly, though inwardly he found great amusement at the nervous and rather guilty expressions that now graced the two before him.

It was Legolas who finally spoke first. "Forgive me, Hérion. I meant no disrespect."

Hérion's storm grey eyes flickered to Charlotte, who swallowed hard under his penetrating and hard gaze. Hérion briefly closed his eyes and let out a sigh before opening them once more.

"There's nothing to forgive, Legolas. It is only natural that Charlotte, as a human, would be curious about my past. And maybe it is time that I tell her the truth, if only to stop her from pestering others with her insatiable curiosity about me," he stated, giving Charlotte a pointed look, which made her flush guiltily.

Hérion pointedly strode over to a long wooden bench that was positioned to the side of the stable and sat down gracefully, crossing his long legs at the knee. Folding his hands in his lap, he cocked a brow at the two youngsters before him, silently beckoning for them to join him.

Legolas and Charlotte shared a look before Legolas strode forward, settling beside the royal advisor. Charlotte hesitated, chewing nervously on her bottom lip, before deciding to take her position on the other side of Hérion, her posture stiff with her unease.

"Relax, Lady Charlotte. I told you that I intend to tell you the truth about my past and that is what I intend to do."

She lifted her wide-eyed gaze to him. "You're not angry?"

The mask cracked and he gave her a genuine, though small smile, shaking his head slowly in answer to her question. All tension suddenly dissipated from her form and she let out the breath she had been holding. Hérion was not angry at her and was going to tell her his secret. Suddenly a thought occurred to her.

"Am I going to need a tissue, er, handkerchief for this?" she asked.

"Whatever for?"

"Well, I kinda figured this is going to be a tragic tale," she haltingly explained.

Hérion thought about her question as he stared at a spot on the wall, his look almost becoming faraway. "I wouldn't call it tragic. Maybe bitter would be a better word."

Charlotte nodded and silently waited for him to begin.

"It was a little over a thousand years ago. I went with King Thranduil to Laketown to set up trading agreements with the new Master of the Town and advise my King during the meetings. It was not the first time I had gone on such a venture with him and thought nothing of it. But this time was different. This time was the first time I laid eyes on her."

Charlotte held her breath. She had long since suspected that there had been a woman involved, and this only confirmed it.

"Isolda," he said simply, though his voice was now tinged with a deep-rooted melancholy at mentioning his long-lost love. "She was as fair as her namesake, with hair spun of gold and eyes like the purest sapphires. She was kind of heart, slow to anger though her temper could be quite formidable when pushed." Hérion paused, gathering his thoughts, though a soft smile curled his lips at the memory of Isolda. "I lost my heart to her the moment I laid eyes on her, and it wasn't long before I started seeking her out, often venturing to Laketown on my own on some whimsical excuse just to see her again."

"So she returned your affections then?" Charlotte asked.

Hérion gave a nod. "She did. My intentions were to court her and ask for her hand in marriage, regardless of the fact that she was human and that her death would ultimately be my demise. All I knew was that I wanted to share the remainder of her life with her. That was all that mattered."

Charlotte's heart plummeted, knowing that this tale was going to take a turn for the worst. "What happened?" she asked, not sure she wanted to really hear the answer, but morbid curiosity would not let her walk away from this. Not now.

Hérion pressed his lips together, his eyes narrowing on the spot on the wall. "As you can guess, with her being human and I being an elf, it was not going to end well," he stated, the bitterness evident in his tone.

Charlotte swallowed; her mouth suddenly dry. "Did she...did she die?"

"Eventually, from what I was told," he said simply, his statement confusing Charlotte. Then he sighed and hung his head, his chestnut hair falling like a curtain to hide his features from her. She heard Hérion draw in a deep breath before lifting his head once more, the perfect mask of indifference once more in place.

"Her parents disapproved of such a union and could not bear the thought of their only daughter going to live in the Woodland Realm for the remainder of her life, where they would only see her when we visited once a year. Needless to say, Isolda was torn between her love for her family and her love for me, and I could see that it was tearing her apart. But still, I refused to let her go. I could not let her go."

Silence stretched on for what felt like forever, neither Legolas nor Charlotte daring to utter a word. Though Legolas somewhat knew of the tale, he had not known the specific details. He was just as entranced by the story as Charlotte was.

"Eventually Isolda broke it off. Being the kind spirit that she was, she stated that it was because she could not willingly form a union with me, knowing that her ultimate death would literally kill me."

Charlotte felt as though her heart were breaking for her friend. She swallowed thickly not really wanting to ask the question but felt that she needed to. "Was she speaking the truth?"

"Ultimately, yes. But, in the end, she chose her family over me," he said tonelessly. "Maybe it was a blessing that she and I had not bonded, for I am certain that that very moment would have killed me, such was my grief."

Charlotte reached over and took his hand in her own, unable to stop the lone tear that fell from her glistening eyes and trickled down her cheek. "I'm so sorry, Hérion," she said, her voice cracking as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her completely. She reached over and took his hand in her own, though Hérion did not notice.

He gave a noncommittal hum, still refusing to look at either of them. "She married, of course, and bore three children, though I only heard tell of this much later on. I refused to return to Laketown since and even going back now would bring back painful memories. I think I would gaze upon each face, searching for certain characteristics of hers, and wonder which of the inhabitants of the town was a descendant of hers. I would become too absorbed in my grief and I fear I would never surface again."

Charlotte squeezed his hand and the movement seemed to break him from his inner turmoil. Hérion turned his attention to her, his storm grey eyes swirling with profound emotion. "It was the main reason why I was dead set against King Thranduil taking a human as his wife." Charlotte's breath caught in her throat at the affection he held for her now reflecting on his features. "I feared that he would suffer the same fate as I. My viewpoint changed when I was forced to endure your annoying presence," he suddenly stated quite blithely, his familiar sarcastic and brittle demeanor coming to the forefront once more.

Charlotte gave him a watery smile and, before she could stop herself, she flung her arms around him. Hérion stiffened at such familiarity, but then relaxed somewhat and awkwardly patted her back.

"I see that you have learned nothing from my lessons," he said sarcastically, though it held none of his usual bite.

Charlotte gave a weak chuckle and pulled back enough for him to see the sorrow in her eyes. "I truly am sorry, Hérion."

Hérion patted her hand, rather like a grandfather would his grandchild, and said, "Isolda did what she thought was best for the both of us. Eventually she found happiness with her husband and I think she hoped that I would find happiness with another of my own kind. Though I could not move past my grief, I wanted nothing but happiness for her."

Charlotte regarded Hérion. He often shrouded himself with sarcasm and haughtiness, barely letting anyone in. And now she knew why. His heart, even after a thousand years, was still desperately trying to heal. Hérion was afraid to let anyone else in beyond those barriers lest they completely break what was left of his shattered heart. She had been told that elves loved far deeper than that of humans, and Hérion was proof of that profound and deep love that elves were capable of.

Charlotte hugged him again, more fiercely this time. Hérion blinked, clearly uncomfortable by such a display of solace, but he finally returned her hug.

Legolas watched the interaction between Hérion and Charlotte, noting that it was nothing but heartfelt sincerity emanating from the human woman for the advisor. Charlotte truly cared for Hérion and, in his own way, he cared for her as well. Theirs truly was an odd friendship.

Legolas was starting to see view Charlotte in a new light; a light that the elves of the Woodland Realm viewed her in. She did not shy away from showing love and affection, warmth and sincerity, friendship and honesty. Some would call that weakness, but Legolas suspected that, when pushed, she could show her mettle. It was all the characteristics of what made a good Queen. At least in his eyes anyway.

Movement caught their attention and three heads swiveled to see Feren walk into the stables. The Captain of the Guard paused, assessing that he had just walked in on a very important and very private conversation.

"My apologies," he murmured, making to backtrack out of the stables, but Charlotte hastily let go of Hérion (much to his relief) and before Feren knew it, he was ensconced in an overly affectionate hug from her as well.

Charlotte pulled back to gaze up at him. "I just wanted to thank you for the daggers, Feren. As well as your invaluable training. They truly saved my life."

Feren had already heard news of the ambush and did not think that her gratitude towards him was necessary, even though she felt it was. So, instead, he chose to deflect. "Don't thank me yet. Monday, we begin your archery training, my Lady."

Her sunny smile instantly fled from her face at his statement.

"Actually, I would like to train Charlotte myself," Legolas interjected, rising to his feet.

Hérion discreetly smiled to himself, knowing that Legolas was using this opportunity to get to know Charlotte better. And he approved. He could see the two of them becoming good friends in the future, something he was eager to witness.

It was true of the saying that friends can be found in the least expected places, and no truer words were spoken when it came to Charlotte. He realized that she was the friend that he hadn't initially wanted, but in the end needed. And he was fairly certain that Legolas would come to the same conclusion in time.

Hérion rose to his feet, donning his mask of arrogance. "By all means, please do. I could do with a well needed break from her."

Charlotte rolled her eyes, seeing right through his facade. Feren smiled as well, he too seeing right through the advisor. He turned his attention to Legolas and gave a nod of assent.

"She would learn well under your guidance and tutelage," he encouraged.

Just then Tallagor gave a loud and impatient snort, offended that he had all but been forgotten.

"Oh! I was going to take Tallagor for a ride," Charlotte stated.

"I will join you," Legolas immediately offered.

Charlotte blinked in surprise at his offer but nodded in agreement. Hérion and Feren watched as the two saddled up the moose, as well as a horse for Legolas before departing.

"What do you think?" Feren finally asked, turning his attention to Hérion.

"I think that, like all things, only time will tell. Though I suspect that we may have just witnessed the beginning of a true friendship."

"Do you think the Prince will accept her?"

"He already has. He just doesn't know it yet," Hérion replied enigmatically, smirking to himself before turning on his heel and exiting the stables whilst whistling a merry tune to himself.