Another World

Chapter 53

But he could not tell if she was waiting, biding her time, for the opportune moment to strike with a well-prepared scathing remark that would hit its mark, especially with someone like Charlotte, who was unskilled with craftily twisted words?

Charlotte, though naïve, had proven that she could be courageous when the moment called for it, and he had no doubt she would hold her own and stand tall in the realm of elves when the time came. There was a fire burning within her that was almost beautiful, and breathtaking, to witness.

But she also lacked certain wisdom and foresight; two very important qualities needed to survive here in Middle Earth. Her impulsive nature was going to prove detrimental unless she could control and tame it.

Thranduil pushed away from the door and made his way to the bathroom. He stripped down and slid into the warm depths of water, letting it soothe away the tension from his body. He sighed gratefully, leaning his head back against the edge of the tub, closing his eyes as his thoughts circled round and round in an endless loop.

He could confront Calenmiriel and order her to desist in whatever she was doing, or whatever she planned to do, but the elleth had neither said nor done anything. Yet. He could banish her from the kingdom – he had done so to others before who had dared cross him. But, again, was it really warranted?

Then there was the fact that she was the beloved aunt to Legolas. Calenmiriel, for all her faults, had stepped in and had acted as a mother figure to the young elfling when he had needed her most. Thranduil knew he was indebted to her for her gentle and motherly guidance with regards to his son. Legolas would be devastated on his return to learn of her exile, and Thranduil knew his son would ever forgive him. Ever. There were some things that could never be forgiven, and this was one of them.

But he could not sit back either and wait for something to happen, either physically or verbally.

His fingertips trailed over the swirling, misty surface of the water, his mind delving deep into thought. A plan was needed, and there was no better strategist than Hérion. If anyone could look at this problem objectively and come up with a relatively sound solution or advice, it would be him.

Thranduil finished bathing and dried himself before donning a silken robe of midnight blue that was trimmed with quicksilver stitching.

He settled into the armchair, his elbow nestled on the armrest and his forefinger pressed against his temple as he stared thoughtfully into the dancing flames of the fire burning in the hearth.

Suddenly the door was flung open and Charlotte stormed in, looking thunderous and, admittedly, breathtaking in her temper. She was a force to be reckoned with when she was like this, and he loved this fiery side to her. Thranduil was just grateful that her temper was not directed at him at this moment, though.

Thranduil's gaze flickered past her, watching with concealed amusement as one of the guards shot him an apologetic look and hastily closed the door behind her, no doubt perturbed by the prospect of this woman having a temper to match their King.

His gaze was drawn to her once more and he stilled, his eyes widening as he truly took in her appearance.

"What...happened to your hair?" he asked. Rising from his seat, he closed the distance with slow and deliberate steps, almost as though he were approaching something that needed to be handled with caution.

Charlotte scowled at him, which only deepened when he raised his hand and plucked out one of the many twigs entangled in her wild looking hair.

She muttered, rather reluctantly and somewhat petulantly, "That blasted horse threw me into the bramble bushes."