Charlotte cracked open an eye, blearily trying to orient herself as she struggled to wake from her deep sleep. Her nose crinkled as a strand of hair tickled it, and she half-heartedly attempted to blow it away. It was no use, as the hair just fell back into her face, determined to be a nuisance.

Charlotte groaned in exasperation and rolled over on to her back, sweeping the offending tendril away. A beam of warm sunlight filtered through the gap of her lavender colored curtains, hinting at a clear and beautiful day, albeit a cold one.

Flinging back the matching lavender hued covers, Charlotte sat on the edge of her bed and rubbed away the sleep from her bleary eyes before stretching and letting out a wide yawn to accompany it. Tea was the first and foremost thing on her mind as she shuffled her way to the kitchen. She had expected to see Thranduil perched at the kitchen table, so she was disappointed to find the room empty, the lack of his presence leaving a gaping void.

She filled the kettle and turned it on before heading to the sink and peering out the window. The light dusting of snow sparkled like a carpet of jewels as the sunlight cast its brilliant light upon it. A crow could be seen in the distance, just on the outskirts of the woods, hopping on the ground as its beady black eyes scoured for something to eat.

Charlotte prepared her tea and plonked down heavily on the hard wooden chair, shifting as she tried to get comfortable. Note to self: buy some cushions!

"Something tells me you're not a morning person," Thranduil stated in his deep voice as he stood in the doorway of the living room, his sharp eyes taking in the bedraggled human.

"Shh. No talky until tea is finished," she murmured, her eyes downcast and staring into the swirling milky tea. She could not bear to see the perfection that was utterly Thranduil right now. He could roll out of bed and immediately look ready for the runway, whereas Charlotte looked like she had been in the bushes fighting off a bear. And lost. Pathetically.

"Duly noted," he said, his voice tinted with amusement. "Though I have never met someone as grouchy as you in the morning."

"I'll show you grouchy," she muttered darkly under her breath, taking a sip of her hot tea.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," Charlotte said, lifting her gaze to meet his and giving him an obviously fake, and far too sunny, smile.

"That's what I thought," the Elven King said, turning his back to her and preparing his own mug of tea. Charlotte swore he was silently laughing at her!

The sleep now clearing from her fuzzy mind, Charlotte could now appreciate the sight before her. Thranduil was dressed in dark blue jeans that conformed perfectly to his lithe body, and a simple dark grey cotton shirt that showed off his toned arms and well defined torso. His silver-white hair flowed like a waterfall made of the finest silk down his back and Charlotte had the urge to run her fingers through the fine strands. It was just too much perfection for first thing in the morning, Charlotte thought with a stab of irritation.

Thranduil sat down next to her, his movement elegant and regal, and they drank their tea in comfortable silence.

"So...I was thinking maybe we could go for a walk today, and if you feel up to it, a drive after lunch," Charlotte said, breaking the silence.

"Drive?" he asked, his dark brows drawing together in puzzlement.

"In my car," Charlotte clarified. She had thought about it briefly last night. Walks in the woods wasn't going to hold his attention for very long, and she reasoned that it would be safe enough to take him out in the car on the back country roads from time to time. Something to divert his attention and keep his mind off of his current dilemma.

"I'll give it a try, though I have to ask if I can trust your 'driving' skills."

Charlotte grinned an evil one. "Oh, I'm absolutely the worst."

"I'd expect nothing less from you, Charlotte," he stated drily.

"Careful, your shins are in perfect proximity for kicking," she warned, draining the last of her tea.

Thranduil's face split into a wide grin, showing hints of dimples. He leaned back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head. "Try it, little one," he dared, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Charlotte stood to take her cup to the sink. "Not a chance! You'll whip my ass."

"Whip your ass?"

"Figure of speech, Thranduil. It means that you'll beat me," she explained as she walked over to the sink.

"That I will."

Charlotte turned to face him, worrying her bottom lip. Thranduil noted her hesitation as he drained his tea and placed the mug down on the table with a soft thunk. "Ask you question, Charlotte."

"Would...would you teach me how to fight?"

Thranduil stared back at her with unblinking eyes, surprise clearly written on his flawlessly smooth face. He had not been expecting such a request, especially from her. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinised her tiny form. Charlotte was small and petite and hardly had any strength or power in her. But part of him was curious to see what she was capable of.

"I think that can be arranged," he said slowly.

Charlotte beamed at him, and Thranduil suddenly found himself desiring to put many more smiles like that on her face. Her smile ignited an inner light deep within her, transforming her features into something quite mesmerising. He stared back wordlessly, captivated.

"Oh, before I forget! Your swords are under the sofa."

"Under the sofa? What are my swords doing there?" he asked, his voice sharp as he straightened up. Those swords were treasured by him, and to be placed without a second thought under a sofa was just incomprehensible!

Charlotte fidgeted. "Um..."

A slow smile stretched on Thranduil's face, making him look predatory, as he realised the cause of her nervousness. "You were afraid I was going to use them on you?"

"Um..."

"Charlotte, if I wanted you dead, I would not have to use my swords. You are fragile enough that my bare hands would suffice," he stated, mirth shining on his luminous face.

"That does not make me feel better," she muttered.

Thranduil stood and advanced towards her. He reached up and gently swept back her thick hair from her face, tucking the flyaway strands behind her ear. Charlotte stared up at him with widened hazel eyes framed by dark lashes. As he peered closely at her, Thranduil noted the light dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks, so light that it wasn't really noticeable. Cute, he thought.

"I gave you my word that I would not harm you, but I cannot guarantee that you will not get hurt during our training, little one."

"Don't worry. I'll just use some creative curse words on you," she replied cheekily, her eyes sparkling with that inner light that he found so fascinating.

Thranduil nodded in approval and stepped back, clasping his hands behind his back. "I look forward to it. I might even learn a word or two. Wouldn't that be interesting?" he mused as he retreated to the living room to retrieve his beloved swords.

Charlotte shook her head. Curse words coming from those perfectly shaped lips of his was almost too much to think about.

They hiked through the woods, the birch trees standing tall and erect around them like sentinel soldiers. Their spindly trunks were ashen white, the color blending with crisp fallen snow at their feet; their branches bare of their usual covering of leaves. Thranduil took the lead, though Charlotte suspected that he did not have a general sense of where he was going, and was letting his feet him where they may.

Thranduil was wearing the insulated winter boots she had bought him, the fine black leather encasing his jean clad legs, along with the stylish black winter coat that reached mid-thigh. The fur lined hood was down and almost hidden by the virgin white of his hair. It looked so wrong for Thranduil to be wearing normal clothes and Charlotte secretly longed to see him again in his clothes from Middle Earth, cape and all. Through all her misgivings, though, Charlotte had to admit that Thranduil looked simply divine, regardless of what he wore.

Talking about clothes, Charlotte wondered if he had worn his pajamas last night or if he had indeed done what he had threatened to do...

"You're awfully quiet back there, Charlotte. What occupies your thoughts?" Thranduil enquired, glancing over his shoulder at his companion who doggedly had her head down as she trudged behind him.

"Your pajamas," Charlotte said, and mentally slapped herself for her lack of filter.

Thranduil grinned slyly. "You want to know if I wore them or not?"

"Nope," she lied.

"You know, I can tell when you're lying," he stated conversationally.

"Really?" Charlotte asked, glancing up at him in surprise. She had not known this. Then she frowned. "What else can you do? Can you do magic?"

"Magic?" he scoffed. "No such thing, Charlotte."

"Harry Potter would disagree with you."

"What?" Thranduil asked, coming to a standstill and turning his attention back to her, his expression baffled.

Charlotte shook her head. "I'll give you the books to read when we get back to the house." Charlotte paused as she glanced around her, recognising the area in the woods. "If we head in this direction it will take us to the lake."

Thranduil eyes lighted and he motioned with an elegant long-fingered hand. "Lead the way, little one."

"Why do you call me that?" she queried as she stepped beside him, her hands thrust deep in her pockets. Her hair was currently ensconced under her white knitted hat, and a matching scarf was wound snugly around her neck.

"Because you are little," he reasoned as they started to follow in the direction where she had pointed. Charlotte couldn't argue with him on that one.

Soon they broke through the trees and came to stand on the edge of the rocky outcrop. The lake lay nestled down in the valley before them, a thin layer of ice having formed on the surface and giving it a mirror-like quality. More birch trees surrounded the lake in their spindly form, and stretched out as far as the eye could see. The picturesque scene still managed to take her breath away every time.

"I often coming up here, especially when I need an escape, and this spot offers solace," she said, her eyes trained on the glassy surface of the frozen water.

"That it does. Though, I have to wonder what it is you seek to escape from." Thranduil enquired as he sat down on the rocky ledge, drawing his knee up to his chest and the other stretched out before him.

Charlotte decided to remain standing, hugging herself for warmth. The ground looked far too cold to sit on. "Life in general. Memories, mostly."

"And what memories are those?"

Charlotte glanced down at him. Thranduil was staring at her with his penetratingly fierce gaze, his crystalline blue eyes glimmering with their curiosity. She shook her head to break from his captivating spell and decided to change subject.

"So can you really hear the trees and plants? Or is that something that's made up?"

Thranduil inclined his head to the side, puzzling over her question. "It is...difficult for me to explain, especially when I am not too sure what you mean." He paused. "I can sense the lands, yes, but it almost a background melody." Thranduil's eyes narrowed at her and then he extended his hand. "Come here. Maybe I can show you."

Charlotte hesitantly stepped forward and Thranduil shifted up. Her eyes widened and her cheeks reddened when she realised that he wanted her to sit between his legs.

"I won't bite, Charlotte."

"Not yet."

He looked puzzled at her words. Charlotte took a deep breath and stepped over his leg, coming to sit in front of him. His long legs were slightly bent on either side of her and Charlotte settled against him stiffly, wondering what he was planning on doing. Thranduil straightened up and pressed his chest against her back, though she could barely feel it through the layer of winter outerwear.

His large hands drew up on either side of her and took her smaller ones in his own, loosely clasping them. Charlotte startled when she felt his lips brushing against her ear, causing an involuntary shiver.

"Close your eyes, Charlotte, and clear your mind," he commanded, his voice low and his warm breath tingling against her ear lobe.

Her heart started racing as something stirred deep within her belly, causing her breath to hitch.

"Calm yourself, Charlotte."

"I'm trying, but you're making it difficult!"

"How exactly am I making it difficult?"

There was no teasing in his voice and Charlotte knew that he truly was perplexed by her statement. Did elves even feel desire the same way humans did? She highly doubted it.

"Never mind," she ground out and closed her eyes. Charlotte concentrated on slowing her breathing, trying to clear her mind and relax. Little by little, she started to ease back against his chest, letting his warmth bathe her in comfort.

A soft musical chant surrounded her senses and she realised that Thranduil was speaking something in his elvish language. What was the name of it again? Oh yes! Sindarin.

The melodious sound pulled her under and she concentrated on the draw of his words. And then like a hazy fog being lifted from her mind, her ears picked up another sound that echoed all around, yet sounded so far away. It was akin to a wordless lullaby that was sung in soft dulcet tones, floating through the wind and being carried to the farthest plains. It was hauntingly beautiful, just as it was achingly enchanting.

Charlotte opened her eyes slowly, realising that this was the closest she would ever get to a spiritual moment.

"It's beautiful," she whispered. She pulled her hand free from his and wiped away at her cheek, surprised when her fingertips came away damp. She glanced back at Thranduil, and he seemed to be looking at her in a different light than before.

"How...how did you manage to share that with me?"

Thranduil let out a breath he was holding and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer, and Charlotte let herself relax against him. He rested his chin on the top of her head as both stared out at the glistening lake.

"I enveloped you in my fëa, Charlotte, essentially sharing with you what I feel."

"It was so...warm and safe," she mused.

Thranduil remained silent at her spoken words, for she had echoed exactly what he had been thinking. Charlotte, for the instant that he had shared himself with her, had felt safe. A warm comforting balm to his battered soul. He was not certain how to feel about this revelation, even as he held his warm companion close, reluctant to release her and let go of this moment.