Another World

Chapter 57

"Yes, I think you made the right choice with this dress," Maerwen murmured as she stepped back to study Charlotte. "Simple, yet understatedly elegant."

Charlotte stood before the tall gilded framed mirror, assessing her appearance, and inwardly agreed with the elleth.

The dress that had been selected for tonight's feast was, as Maerwen had pointed out, understatedly beautiful in its simplicity and treaded a fine line between honoring the citizens of Dale and their more humble backgrounds, as well as paying tribute to her status as future Queen of the Woodland Realm.

The dress in question was midnight blue in color and made of the softest velvet Charlotte had ever touched. All forms of extravagance and embellishments were absent, except for the starlit silver that bordered the deep scoop neck like a broad silver necklace. The sleeves were long and straight, though not too tight to restrict movement, and were infused with the same starlight silver flairs that extended from shoulder to cuff, glinting when the light hit it a certain way.

When her gaze had first landed upon the dress, it had brought to mind the one Arwen had worn when she had experienced the vision of her future son with Aragorn and had gone to confront her father. Charlotte liked to think that this, in a way, was a homage to Arwen, who was ever humble and kind, and the perfect balance on what it meant to tread in both the worlds of humans and elves.

And this garment would do just that. It did not scream of extravagance or opulence, and it would not offend the people of Dale. Yet its simplistic beauty would appeal and please Thranduil and his subjects. It, hopefully, would succeed in honoring both races.

Maerwen placed the circlet upon her head, the teardrop diamond sparkling brilliantly like a pulsing star above her brow. Maerwen had finally managed to tame her hair into soft waves, which framed her features like a flowing halo of soft chestnut brown. Devoid of makeup or any other jewels, the exception being the ring she wore proudly on her finger, Charlotte had to admit that she did, indeed, project a regal, yet approachable figure.

"It's perfect," she agreed, smoothing down the velvety skirt of her dress, the material exquisitely soft beneath her touch.

Thranduil chose that moment to enter the bedroom. He paused at the sight of Charlotte, his eyes slowly raking over her form, though his features were annoyingly unreadable and gave away nothing of what he was truly thinking. When he finally met her eyes, he gave her a smile and a nod of approval, almost as though he had guessed her true attentions by choosing this particular dress.

"Beautiful," he breathed out, his voice but a reverent whisper, and she felt her cheeks pinken with a pleased blush.

Maerwen shot Charlotte a knowing and pleased smile, and with a bow of her head she silently departed, her work now complete.

Thranduil, being a creature of habit, was unsurprisingly dressed in all his divine regality. He did, after all, have a reputation to uphold as Elvenking.

The silver tunic he wore peeked out from beneath his matching robes, the material infused with flares of flowing and spiraled inky black designs. Dark breeches and matching boots encased his long and lean legs, and upon his head he wore his crown; all sharp points and edges, though this did nothing to diminish the splendor it projected and only served to enhanced Thranduil's prickly persona.

"Do you think it will do?" she asked nervously, sweeping her hands in front of her dress to indicate what she was actually asking his opinion of.

Thranduil studied her for a moment and then closed the distance in a few long strides. He clasped her hands in his own larger ones and gave her a look of reassurance. "It befits you, Charlotte. Remember, though, that it is not the dress that makes the woman, but rather the essence of the woman that makes her who she is."