A/N: This is a continuation of the previous chapter. All the following conversations happened on the same day as the ones in Chapter 5. It's a continuation of the day. J

Chapter 6

Velia huddled in a corner of the House of Healing with another Healer by the name of Sima. They both watched with sharp eyes as Ziendriel walked across the room and into one of the private rooms, carrying a basket of linens with her. Once they were sure the younger Healer was out of hearing range, they resumed their conversation.

"What think you of this 'friendship'?" Sima whispered, her eyes on watch. "There are many opinions and speculations being spoken around in the main hall."

Velia shrugged. "I do not know," she whispered back. "The young one does not seem affected by it. She maintains they are just good friends."

"I disagree," Sima said. "Friendship is not all that they share. I may be older, but I can see just as well as the next youngling! There is more to this friendship than both Ziendriel and the prince know or want to see!"

"She seems happy enough," Velia commented, then quickly pretended to be counting washcloths when the elf-maiden in question walked back into the room. "They compliment one another very well: she teaches him to break from his oft seriousness, while he gives her the confidence to try new adventures," she whispered.

Sima hummed under her breath. "She could be happier," she returned, smoothing down the tablecloth on the nearby table, then rearranging the flowers that sat in a vase atop it.

A giggle drifted from across the room. "Conspiracy, sweet ladies," Ziendriel called, letting them know she was not oblivious to their sneaky tactics, "is not permitted!" She playfully wagged her finger at them, as a mother would to a naughty child. She giggled harder when both Healers blushed.

As in the House of Healing, the topic of debate was the same in the kitchens of the main hall. Ortho, the main cook, was busily preparing the evening meal while all of his help worked around him in a frantic pace.

"Now, do not misunderstand me," he said, loudly for those nearest to him to hear over the noise of the kitchen. "I am fond of the Lady Ziendriel. But, she is not for the prince. They are too different!" He dumped a handful of vegetables into a bucket of cool water to wash them.

Several of the chambermaids shook their heads. "Then why do we always see them laughing and smiling at one another in the gardens? " Silv, a dark haired elf with large brown eyes, challenged. Several of the other servants nodded in agreement, while others were surprised by the news.

"Oh, friends they may be!" Ortho shot back. "But that is where it ends. There will be no romantic interludes for our lovely Ziendriel!" There was no malice in his voice, just fact. He had known the Lady Yalith since the day she'd been born and no one—except for her pa—was fonder of her than him. But, he knew his Ziendriel and he knew that her place was not beside the prince, in the forefront. The young one preferred the shadows were she was comfortable not to be seen.

"You have seen them?" Another chambermaid demanded of Silv, excitedly.

Silv nodded. "Twice," she answered, dramatically holding up two of her fingers. A buzz of excited chatter exploded in the already noisy kitchen and Ortho decided it was enough.

"Alright, back to work!" he yelled, clapping his hands loudly. "No more gossip! We will all just have to wait and see where the path will take our Prince and Lady! Move it!"

With several groans and sighs, the servants of the kitchens of King Thranduil, reluctantly went back to work.

In the House of Lord Jerec, chaos was exploding. His youngest daughter, Ariel was unhappy. And when she was unhappy, no one in the house would be otherwise. At the moment, the youngest member of the Yalith family was pacing the floor of the front hall, wringing her hands and muttering things under her breath. She was frowning, but quite beautifully so, her blue eyes bright with confusion and worry. Not one hair on her golden head was out of place, neither a fold on her dress undone. She was beautiful, if not anxious, but her mother stared helplessly at her all the same.

"Do calm down, sweetheart!" Lilia Yalith exclaimed. "It will do you no good to keep with this emotion!"

Ariel stomped her foot, despite being over two thousand years old. "I will not!" she exclaimed. "How can I when this vexes me so?" She wrapped her arms around her body and hugged herself tightly. Tears began to fill her eyes and Lilia ran quickly to her to comfort her.

"Oh, my daughter!" Lilia whispered, "I do wish you would not allow this to trouble you so."

"I-I don't understand," Ariel whispered back, completely flabbergasted. "How could this be?" She sounded so confused and bewildered, her mother could only shake her head in pity.

In truth, when Ariel's friend Elyse had arrived and "accidentally" let it slip about seeing the prince and Ziendriel in the gardens, Lilia had been quite pleased. Her eldest daughter had spent far too long in the shadows and now was the time for her to step forth. She did not know if there was any truth to these meetings that the prince was having with her daughter, but Lilia was sure it would be the nudge that Ziendriel needed to leave the shadows and background behind.

Ariel will recover, she thought, stroking her younger daughter's hair. She always does. Now, at this moment, she may be hurt that the prince has apparently chosen her "plain-looking" sister—Lilia giggled at this absurd term for she thought Ziendriel beautiful; not so much so as Ariel, but enough—over her, but she will soon forget and move on. She always does. But, now is the time for Ziendriel!

"Oh, my darling!" she exclaimed, when fresh new tears began to fall down Ariel's smooth cheeks. "Hush now. Everything will be alright."