Disclaimer Borrowed Middle Earth for the weekend. Time to play.
Warnings. Non-canon, OOC Elves. Possible language. Multiple OCs.
AN Right! Entering Mirkwood/Greenwood. Wanted to try my hand at the ongoings in the Elvenking's Halls and this idea came to me. Not really that original, but hopefully entertaining enough. There might be some out of characterness with some of the characters.
Background. In this fic, elves come of age at 50, so that makes Legolas slightly under 400, the whole idea being that Thranduil married and had Legolas before being crowned king, thus ensuring the lines survival before riding out to Dagorlad. Setting is around T.A 300. The Royal family is not only limited to Thranduil and Legolas, a bit of AU. Hopefully, it will all straighten out as the story runs along.
Critique or questions are welcome!
DR
.oOo.
The Other Side
.oOo.
A low humming resonated down the hall. The tone was familiar, an old lay popular among the serving staff that had caught on to her unwittingly. A slipper clad foot swayed the wooden bucket in pace to the music as potato peels fell one after another into it. The container was no more than half full, meaning that there was still two sacks left to be scrubbed and peeled before dinner. Checking the time once again by examining the long candle, Lona wondered how long it would be until her kitchen aides would come to work.
Tossing another finished potato into the large pot used for boiling she sighed, abandoning her knife as she wiped her hands off on her apron. There was work to be done and she would be damned if dinner was served late just because the kitchen staff decided that sleeping in was more important than seeing to it that the King's table was laid at the proper time. Moving over to the large stove, she stirred the pots already boiling and checked the roasts in the oven for a second time in the last half hour. Lona did not like disruption of her routine, and this certainly caused her nerves to strain.
Another half hour passed before the first hurried steps rushed down the corridor. The sound of them told her it was her youngest aid, and probably the one most frightened of her temper.
"I am so sorry, Lona!" the elleth burst out as she stumbled in through the door. Her hair barely pinned up and her dress a wrinkled mess. "I overslept! I did not mean to, it was an accident! It's just!"
"You were enjoying yourself too much dancing with the guard yesterday and forgot the time. I know, I know."
The dark-haired Silvan flushed as she heard the words. She wrung her hands, uncomfortable at the lack of the scolding gaze that was so common when any of the kitchen staff made a blunder. "You know?" she asked tentatively.
Lona huffed, her green eyes eyeing the younger one, "Half of my employees are missing. Either all of you have managed to get yourself poisoned on the same night, something that would at least give me a just cause for delaying dinner. Or last night's merry-making was a little too successful."
"I am sorry," the girl said dejectedly.
Lona sighed, "No idea in worrying over spilt milk, is there now, Faelwen?" She continued to measure up the flour for the desert she was making, her eyes taking in the ratio between butter and flour with practiced ease. "At least tell me he asked you for a dance?"
Faelwen, who stood tying a clean apron around her middle blossomed a nice red color at the question. "He did.." she said and distracted herself by tying a cloth over her hair to keep it from the dough she was expected to knead. "Though, I do not think it mattered to him. The prince danced with many an elleth, many fairer than myself."
Lona nodded, "He is high in demand. Though being the king's son would push him to interact with as many different subjects as possible." The words did nothing to cheer up her aid, and once again, Lona despaired over the fact that another heart would be left unanswered due to the strict class differences in the Greenwood population. As far as Lonawas concerned, an elf was an elf, no matter who you were born to, or what culture you belonged to.
Faelwen's voice gained a little amusement when she disclosed the next bit of information, "Tanna, on the other hand, did get to dance with Calanon."
Lona looked up, amused, "Oh, did she now?"
"It looked utterly scandalous," Faelwen whispered, her eyes showing her delight. "I was sure they would kiss right then and there on the dance floor, but fortunately he pulled back in the last minute."
"They have been pining for each other for years! It would not surprise me if they scurried off together just to get some privacy." Lona said absent-minded as she poured the batter into one of the baking trays.
These youths were sometimes too blind to notice things that stood directly in front of them. It had taken more than a little push from Lona to get them to admit their feelings for each other, and it continued to amuse her to no ends how shy they were around each other. But in the end, her months of careful planning had finally paid off. She was glad that the pair had at last tried to take the next, logical step.
The sudden silence brought her out of her musings, and she turned to Faelwen to see her grinning so much it almost split her face in two. Lona's eyes widened, "They did not!"
Faelwen simply nodded, knowing that saying anything more would put her friend in trouble. The elleth was well aware that although Lona was in favor of romance, and actually actively encouraged it, the woman was very conservative. She probably thought they had eloped or something equally scandalous. It was better Tanna explained herself, if she decided to show up today at all.
"What happened to small steps?" Lona mumbled to herself, her mind kept spinning and she couldn't help but think that maybe her actions had worked a little too well.
Pushing the tray into one of the empty ovens, Lona pulled off her head cloth, allowing her auburn braid to slip back down her back. She wiped at her temple, the kitchen was sweltering at this time of day and she only hoped that the dinner would be done in time. Clearly, there was no knowing when the rest of her aides would turn up.
"You did only dance with the prince?" she asked, her eyes measuring the girl in front of her. The wild but attractive features were sure to catch more than the prince's eyes, but the girl was stubborn. She had a hard time believing Faelwen would entertain the idea of any of the other ellon at the gathering. The girl did have a terrible crush on the Prince, as many other of the young Silvan maids.
"Yes. Only the prince." Faelwen answered flatly.
"Good, at least I have one sensible girl in the lot."
.oOo.
The last of the serving staff had left and only a pile of dishes remained. Lona was thankful that the dinner had gone as planned, for she did not like disappointing the king. The kitchen was silent now at the end of the day, and a cool breeze was let in from one of the windows that had been left open. Lona sighed as the tickle of cold air ran along her skin, this was the last time she made oven roasts and baked at the same time. The warm summer air provided little relief even without having all ovens on full burn for most of the day.
She looked up when another presence settled beside her. A longhaired, blonde elleth joined in on scrubbing plates. Her blue eyes not leaving the soapy suds.
"You don't have to be here. I gave the rest of the girls time off." Lona pointed out softly, her hands carefully handling the silverware.
The elleth glanced at Lona for a moment, blue eyes gazing at her guiltily. "I had more time off than the others. Let me help."
"I do not blame you, or any of the others for enjoying yourself now and then, Tanna. Even though the timing could have been better." Lona tried to explain, but watching the normally silent elleth try to make up for her mistakes made a hint of pride fill her. Tanna had been left in her care at a very young age, a favor to her mother, and it made her feel almost maternal around the elleth she had come to count as family.
"Thank you." Tanna worked in silence for another moment, her face conflicted. "You once told me to trust my heart. That it would know when I met the right one."
Lona nodded, she remembered the advise she had once given the troubled elleth. Was this about Calanon? She frowned as she considered the captain. They were both inexperienced in the ways of love, but Lona had thought that the ellonwould have a little more sense in the matter than Tanna. The elleth could be naïve about even the simplest of things.
"I think.." Tanna shook her head, causing some of her blonde strands to shift forward over her shoulders. "I think he is the one."
Lona raised a brow. Tanna did not sound that convinced. "Is he?"
"I.. It is hard to explain." Tanna moved to set some of the washed plates in the stand for drying. "I feel happy around him. He makes me smile... I long for him."
Lona smiled, she knew that feeling well. "It is only natural."
"Is it?" Tanna questioned, surprised.
Lona nodded, her green eyes shimmering. "You long for him. You cannot bring yourself to part from him, and before you know it, you cannot live without him. He becomes the very air you breathe. The sun that lights your day.."
She watched the dreamy expression overtake Tanna's face as she spoke and it made Lona feel young again. Like the last two millennia was simply a dream and she too was a girl experiencing the age-old magic of love. But the truth was much more dark, and she wished it upon no other. All she could do was hope that Tanna would be spared that burn that could follow in love's wake. Lona's eyes saddened a fraction as she added, "Then one day, you realize there is color in the world. A vibrance that you had never imagined existed. All due to him."
"Have you ever been in love, Lona?" Tanna asked, her eyes hopeful and bright at the stunningly accurate description of her own feelings.
A small smile curled the corners of her lips. "I have once. A long time ago."
The tint of longing in Lona's voice did not pass unnoticed. "Once? What happened?"
Lona gazed down into the soapy depths of the wash basin. Her voice sounded far off even to her own ears as she contemplated her own fate. The true reason behind years and years of unanswered longing. "We lost sight of one another.. We have never met since."
.oOo.
"How much longer for those onions!?" Lona called angrily.
"Coming!" Faelwen rushed across the kitchen, her eyes red and swollen, carrying a bowl of finely chopped onions.
"Hmm.." Lona said as she ran her fingers through the mixture. "Nicely done.. Keep this up and you will get to help me with tomorrow's dessert."
The girl beamed back at her, her blue eyes shining. "Yes!"
Lona shook her head at the girl. "No point in rejoicing now! You still have another batch waiting for you," she scanned the girls face again, "and pour some hot water into the sink. It will keep your eyes from stinging so much."
"Ah, yes!" she scrambled back to her workbench. Quickly setting back to work on her onions.
Lona stared at her for a minute before sighing. Mixing the onion in with the minced meat she wondered how long it would take for the girl to learn that the kitchen was not a battle zone. Lona was thankful for Faelwen's enthusiasm, but her floor now sported more onion pieces than she considered proper.
A call from the entrance of the kitchen caught her ear and she turned her head, hands still working, and saw the dark-haired male standing there. Galion motioned with his eyes to her, his tall form restless. Frowning, Lona washed her hands clean and went to him.
"What is it?"
"Lady Lona," he started, his eyes flickered over the staff working behind her, "do you mind?"
"Of course not." Lona stepped out of the kitchen, leading him aside to one of the neighboring rooms she often used as an office. "What is bothering you, my Lord?"
An apprehensive look settled on his features, his hand closing the door behind him. "Has the Prince visited the kitchen?"
She tilted her head at the underlying anxiousness in the question. "No.. I am afraid not. I have not seen him this morning, though I did send him something to eat last night, as requested."
The King's butler raked a hand through his brown tresses. His eyes closed as regret filled his face. It was a most unusual sight, and Lona found herself wondering what could bring the normally collected elf into such a state. She thought for a moment before it struck her. "You have lost him again."
The elf winced at the statement. "I have done nothing! It is he who insists on running away!"
It was a known fact that the Prince, though past his majority, had an infamous record of disappearing without warning. The boy loved exploring and adventures, most such thoughts driving him to leave on expeditions on his own; out into the forest or running the lands around Greenwood. This hobby was of course disapproved of by the King, who held his son's safety a high priority. That would be reason enough for Galion's despair since the elf was responsible for keeping tabs on Legolas during the day.
Lona lay a hand on his shoulder, an attempt to try and calm the elf. "I am sure he is around here somewhere. You know how he gets whenever he is locked inside the palace for too long."
Galion looked back at her, a disbelieving stare in his dark eyes. "The last time he disappeared he nearly got himself killed! And I checked, the Prince left his bow, which means he is off somewhere completely unarmed."
She winced, her mind silently scolding the little one that had pattered in and out of her kitchen for years without fail. The prince was dear to her, painfully so. But even she understood that his behaviour was well out of line these days. His escapades had grown in outrageousness, not without help from his overprotective father, who insisted on taking the soft approach in raising the boy. Prince Legolas himself was of course oblivious to it all, and no one had the heart to scold him for keeping a last bit of innocence.
Galion seemed to slump in front of her. "What am I to tell the king?"
The hopelessness of the situation did nothing to improve the butler's mode. The king would be outraged by his son's disappearance. For although the Prince was a fully grown elf, he had not yet been cleared to join the guard. Nor had he received the proper training needed to wander the darkening wood alone.
"Is he asking questions?" Lona asked as she maneuvered the elf into one of the stuffed chairs in the room.
"He suspects something." Nothing could be kept from the King for too long. King Thranduil was in constant connection with the forest, meaning he could sense happenings in the realm far faster than any normal elf. "I believe he was expecting him to show up for the morning meal."
Lona nodded. The royal family was busy, but the king always took time to share breakfast with his son every first day of the week. He specifically made time for it in his schedule. For the Prince to have not shown up would have been strange indeed and a cause for worry.
Inwardly, she scolded herself. She should have known something was wrong when the prince did not find his way into her kitchen in the morning as he did by habit.
"What will you do?" she asked from where she crouched in front of him. She feared for Galion, for the King's anger was not a pretty sight to see.
He threw his arms up. "What is there to do but tell him?"
"You cannot stall for time? Who knows, he may be visiting out in the fields. The girls told me he danced with quite a few of the ellith from the King's farms. Perhaps, he became sweet on one of them?"
"Do you think so?" Galion asked, he doubted it but he could not be certain. The prince was at that age.
"It is possible," she watched life return into the dark eyes. "Let me distract the King. I know just the thing."
The elf seemed to consider it for a moment, his dark eyes searching hers before he reached out for her hand. Without warning, he lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. "You are my saving grace, my Lady."
"Oh, stop it." She gave a light slap to his shoulder before she pulled away and straightened out her apron. "Find the Prince, Galion. I will take care of the rest."
He smiled gratefully, heading for the door after thanking her. Lona's voice stopped him by the door however.
"Oh, and Galion, bring out the wine."
They grinned, for if it was one thing that would improve their King's spirits, it was Dorwinnion.
.oOo.
He was in a particularly bad mood. Somehow, he felt that someone was keeping something from him. The hairs at the back of his neck tingled ominously, and he knew that something was not right.
But what? The King thought.
Thranduil walked the halls with no particular goal in mind. He had thought of retiring to read for a while before dinner, but staring at pages full of text so soon after his work in his office made his skin crawl. He paused for a moment, seeing one of the servant girls scurrying off down the hall. His staff was, as per habit, nervous around him. Something that had gone unfixed during the years of his rule. The image of King that had been drilled into him by his father allowed no weaknesses, but at times like these he wondered whether the fear he could see in the eyes of some of his subjects was really necessary for him to rule.
Sighing, he steered off towards the large sunroom. He would enjoy some quiet before joining the masses in the Great Dining Hall. It was the first day of the week, and that meant more of his elves would have returned to join in on the feasting. The beginning of Harvest always held the most festive dinners.
"My Lord," a serving girl entered the room, interrupting his viewing of the outside garden. "The kitchen send these. Shall I prepare some tea for you?"
He watched the skittish girl, taking in her submissive behaviour, her eyes on the floor. "Yes, thank you."
The acceptance caused the girl to burst into action, her hands well-practiced as they prepared and poured a perfect cup of tea. She set the teacup together with the platter containing the small pastries on the coffee table.
"I will be outside if you need anything," she said with a bow.
With a simple nod from Thranduil, the girl left the room, leaving him alone with a heavy sweet scent of blooming flowers rising from the tea. His favorite. Seating himself, he lifted the cup to his lips, scenting the warm tea before sipping. The mix of flowery nectar and subtle honey filled his senses.
"The Dance of Spring," he mused, wondering at the choice of tea to use in the middle of the summer. It was a blend made by his head cook, one he had indulged in over the years from way before his coronation. It brought back memories of a time much brighter, light days spent underneath the bows of a young forest. Before the dark started to consume it.
Spying the pastries, he reached out to take one. The rich cream and vanilla filling in it a delicious combination with the tea.
Lona must be in a good mood, he thought.
Turning back to gaze at the flowers that still lingered in his garden, he enjoyed the small comfort. The niggling thought vanished for now, leaving only a whisper in his mind.
It was not until dinner when that same pressing gut instinct returned to him. Thranduil was late in arriving to the slightly upraised dais where he and the more central members of the Royal family dined. Immediately upon his ascent up the stairs he noticed the empty chair beside his own.
"Where is Legolas?" he asked, none too bothered by the stares his tall form with its long, white gold hair drew around him. It was nothing new.
"Legolas?" his sister asked slowly, her head turning to watch the chair where the young Prince was supposed to besitting. "I thought he was with you? I have not seen him today.."
The King took his place at the far end of the table, his chair more throne-like than the others, stating his position. "I have not seen him today either.." Thranduil replied, heavy brows knitted together in a frown.
"Perhaps he is out watching the guard train again, you know how much he likes to watch them in action." Beinion, his nephew, added as he spooned himself some cranberry sauce.
Thranduil was about to point out that he had explicitly forbidden him from even nearing the training grounds after his last mishap of almost getting himself stabbed while engaging some of the less experienced members in a spar with live swords. But he was interrupted by Galion, who moved forward to pour him some wine.
"I am sure he is just being held up by one of his female admirers, Sire."
Legolas? Entertaining elleths? He narrowed his eyes at his butler. "And who might this young elleth be?"
Galion gulped, but did not attempt to lie in front his lord. "I do not know her name, Sire. But I have received information that the young prince is very popular among the young women. Prince Legolas.. well.. he is at that age. After the last feast I thought-"
"You mean to say he is off gallivanting with an elleth he barely knows." That is not his son. Thranduil had not raised him like that.
The other members at the table stiffened somewhat at the harsh tone, but they were accustomed to the flare of the King's tempers, and soon resumed their eating. Galion, realizing his mistake, tried to mend the situation.
"I am simply stating that it would not be strange for the young Prince to have developed an interest in the opposite sex. Most elves marry young.."
Silvan elves do marry young, Thranduil thought sourly, his mood not improved by this new argument of his butler.
Suddenly, the thought of his son out somewhere with another elleth did not seem so innocent as he had once thought. What was more, his son had danced with more than a few Silvan maidens at the feast. That thought made his stomach lurch uncomfortably. He reached for the glass of wine laid out for him and downed it. The now empty glass was quickly filled by Galion, the butler flitting about the table nervously.
"Thranduil, please calm down," he heard his sister hiss from down the table. The King knew without looking that his thoughts had not been as hard to read on his face as he thought. He could feel the eyes on him, specifically the eyes of his Silvan subjects.
Picking up his silverware, he started to pick apart his meal. He ate more out of practice than enjoyment. His mouth retained the firm line it settled in at the beginning of the dinner as his mind dissected the possibility of his son choosing to spend time with an elleth over time with his own father.
It left a strong bitter taste in his mouth.
Galion, however, stood hovering by his side. His mind was not far away from his king's, because although he had his suspicions, he had yet to receive any info on the Prince's whereabouts. Lady Lona had convinced him that the young Prince would turn up sooner or later. He had trusted her before, and had not been let down by the Silvan elleth'sinstincts. Still, he wondered what the King would do to him if the Prince did not turn up in time to sooth the King's temper.
The main course was finished faster than he would have liked, for the King soon started to search the hall for that familiar golden head. It was not to be, of course, but except for filling his King's glass Galion had no other way of soothing him. Sadly, Galion realized that the lull of Dorwinnion might not even be enough in the end. Sighing, he bit the inside of his cheek, steeling himself as best he could back into the image of his usual stoic persona.
"I guess, this is it for today." Beinion said, twirling the dessert spoon in his hand. Dinner never was much fun withoutLegolas present.
The servants took away the dirty dishes and now the dessert was being served. A lush bowl of fruit, fresh from harvest, and wonderful soft whipped cream sprinkled with thinly sliced nuts. Plates containing of all sorts of pastries already sat on the table, looking inviting to the eye.
Thranduil sighed as he reached out to one of them while waiting as the bowls were distributed. His hand stopped in mid-air however when his eye caught a flash of silver in the crowd. One of the servants carried a silver serving plate, covered by a dome-shaped lid.
The elf he recognized as Thalion, one of the few males working in the kitchen, stopped beside him and placed the serving plate down before him.
"For you, Sire."
The lid was removed and Thranduil startled seeing the delicately made tart, crowned by fresh wild strawberries and juicy blueberries. He turned to ask Thalion about the tart but the elf had already left. Facing the dessert again, he cut a piece of it and placed it on a smaller dessert platter. It was then that he noticed the writing in blueberry sauce on the porcelain that held the tart.
'Congratulations, Ada'
Thanduil almost dropped his fork. There was no question about it. That squiggly handwriting was Legolas's doing.
Galion moved closer when he saw his King's stunned expression. His eyes narrowed in contemplation as he repeated the words aloud. "Congratulations? For what?" he asked mostly for himself.
But the King did not answer immediately, his mind still whirling. "Three hundred years as King.."
Thranduil had completely forgotten. Not that elves put a lot of weight into anniversaries of any kind. Time was always flowing and a simple hundred years meant nothing to an elf's lifespan. Even with begetting days, rarely was any after the fiftieth celebrated, as it marked the coming of age for elves; when they would be classed as fully grown, mature adults in their society.
Legolas, however, had remembered the years and the specific date of his coronation. Despite that Legolas had been barely a hundred at the time himself.
Thranduil felt a strange warmth spread through him and his eyes burned with the familiar sensation of tears. No. He would not cry. He would not waste his son's efforts.
Slicing a piece of the tart with his fork, he tasted it.
Perfect.
.oOo.
"Do you think Ada will be mad?" Legolas asked as he sat on a stool beside the stove, observing Lona at work. The dinner was still in progress, so most of the kitchen staff was upstairs, tending to the diners. It left the kitchen empty of elves, and Legolas liked the cozy silence.
Lona grinned none to discreet at him from where she stood stirring one of the soups needed for the elves in the infirmary. "Do you think he will be mad at you?"
Legolas averted his gaze, staring at his blueberry stained hands. "I don't think so. I did it to make him happy. Why would anyone get mad over such a thing?"
"Parenthood is a complicated matter, my Prince. What might seem rational to you can be taken a whole other way when it is seen through the eyes of a worried parent."
The prince frowned. "But you would be happy if I gave you a present, right Lona?"
"I would be happy for anything you gift me, Prince Legolas. Whether it is a present, or your presence keeping me company in the kitchen."
Legolas smiled happily. His clear blue eyes, the same shade as his father's, shone back at her. "You are a good friend, Lona."
"Good that we cleared that up. Otherwise I will have to start suspecting you are only here for my cookies," she said, laughing.
The ellon grinned sheepishly, "Not just the cookies! Lona, you are good at making anything. The best!"
Lona shook her head at him, eyes dancing. "I won't claim to be the best cook ever, though since I've somehow managed to keep you from growing up a gangly ellon I must have some skill," she stopped to brush some of the cookie crumbs off the front of his tunic. "How an elf manages to grow big and strong on sugar alone is a mystery."
"Ada loves sweets! If he can become a strong warrior and eat it I don't see why I should not."
She leaned down to whisper conpiratorially in his ear, as if sharing a secret hidden from the rest of the world. "Your father has a sweet tooth, my Prince, but he still eats his vegetables."
The mortification on his face showed her all she needed and she smiled inwardly at her success in convincing the blonde prince to eat more greens. She pulled the half-empty cookie jar from the counter top beside him, evoking a small protest from the still cookie nibbling Prince.
"No more cookies for those who skip dinner," she said sternly.
Legolas bemoaned his fate for a minute, before settling back into his place on his stool. His curious blue eyes studied the various parts of the kitchen, which stood still alive with different processes of cooking.
He had once asked his father if he could work in the kitchen. But he had quickly been shot down, apparently the kitchen was not a workplace befitting of a Prince. Or so his grandfather had said, at least. His father had continued the verdict, but no one could stop him from lingering there when he wished. He only did so though when Lona permitted it, which meant one could find him here mostly in the mornings, when it was often just herself readying the ovens and stoves for the days work.
Folding his arms over his knees, he rested his chin against them. "I missed you at the feast, you know."
She did not face him, but continued stirring the soup. "I know."
"Is it because of father?" Legolas knew that Lona and the king had been friends at one point, but the two of them had always acted courteous around each other from the first time Legolas met her. Like a proper King and his servant. Always with a barrier between them. It was sad, because his father had few real friends, and he thought the King might like having her as a friend. Legolas certainly did.
"No, little leaf," Lona answered as she sighed tiredly. "I.. I am tired of banquets and balls and feasting under the stars. I am tired of dancing."
Legolas laughed, a childish laughter that always reminded her of the child he had once been. "You are acting like you are old, Lona. Which I know is not true because you laugh a lot more than Ada's old councillors," he gave her a pointed look, "and they are old."
"Being old and feeling old is two different things, my Prince." Stoking the fire in the stove, she accidentally burned herself on the warm hatch, which caused her to hiss.
With lightening speed, her hand was pulled away and put in a basin of chilled water. Legolas flattened out her palm underneath the surface with his hands, to allow him to see the burn properly.
"It is nothing," she insisted. "A minor burn compared to what I have acquired in the past."
"Ada always says a lady needs to care for her hands." The blonde ran his fingertip along the redness of the burn. "You have working hands, very different from those of my aunt, but important none the less."
He wrapped the hand in a clean kitchen towel, taking care not to press unnecessarily on the wound.
"Thank you, little Leaf," she said as she took the bound hand and held it to her. Her other reached up to stroke the top of his golden head, even though he had grown past her height and reaching so high became a hard task in itself.
The clearing of a throat alerted them to Galion, where he stood at the entrance.
"My Prince, I have searched for you." He forced a smile on his face despite the fact that he wanted to scold the boy, but remembering the King's surprise and happiness from earlier he reined in his anger. "Come, your father is calling for you."
Lona watched the young Prince as his eyes bounced from one to the other. His eyes finally settled on her and she had to smile at the innocent question in his eyes.
"It is okay. The others will soon be back." Lona eye-smiled at Galion for a moment before waving the blonde off. "Scurry off, little Leaf, and share your adventures with your father."
The Prince grinned, waving goodbye enthusiastically even as Galion rolled his eyes at the sight. Once the Prince had run down the hall. a grateful smile graced Galion's features and he bowed slightly to her, before he turned the corner, leaving her alone in the kitchen.
Without the incessant talking of the Prince, the kitchen fell silent, and only the sound of bubbling pots remained. Another day which heralded another week's beginning was over. She lifted the kitchen towel and stared down at the burn, a soft smile dawning on her lips.
Moving to the cabinet where she kept the first aid equipment in case of any injuries occurring in the kitchen, she lifted the almost empty jar of salve used for burns and cuts.
Yes. Tomorrow was a new day.
#To be continued...
Translations
Ada – Father, Dad