Chapter 9
"Clothes," Silva muttered to herself. "I need more clothes." She had packed a bare minimal (well, her version anyway) as she hadn't expected to end up living anywhere.
Several changes of clothing she had brought with her, but they were hardly going to last her a lifetime, were they? She'd have to make some more. 'Thranduil did say anything,' she thought. 'Maybe I could ask him for some rolls of materials.' She began to think up some designs.
The day began to draw to an end when she realised she still didn't have material. So she set off to the throne room where Thranduil would undoubtedly be.
Sure enough, she found him. He was delighted as ever to see her for she was now as a daughter to him even after only being there a month and even though she was several centuries older than him. (A/N: O_o That's just weird!)
"Good evening, vanya er, and what may I do for you?" he said on her entry. (Vanya er - Fair one)
"Good evening, my lord," she replied. "I was wondering if here was any way I could get hold of some rolls of material. You see I'm beginning to run out of clothes so I wish to make some more." She knew what he was about to say.
"I can have some clothes made for you," said Thranduil. "You need not make them yourself."
" 'Tis not a bother, my lord," she said. "Also, some of the designs I have in mind are quite complex and..... rather different."
"If you are sure," said Thranduil. Silva nodded her head. "Then I shall see that you have you material by morning. Though you will be approached by somebody about colours and what not." (A/N: Lol! What not! Can you really see Thranduil saying what not? Hehehe!)
"Thank you, my lord, you are most kind," she said with a curtsey. She left the room in a sort of dreamy state, making mental adjustments to her designs. She was so deep in though that she walked straight into someone. Someone being Legolas.
"Watch where you're- oh," said Silva. She tensed up as soon as she saw who it was. Although she was still having the 'stupid, crappy, loved-up' feelings about, they didn't get along at all.
"Sorry," he said, stiffly.
"Not your fault," she murmured. "Good evening." With that, she swiftly returned to her room.
She stormed into her chambers and slammed the door behind her. She threw the chair our from under the dressing table roughly, sat down and started brushing her hair (she always found it calming for some reason).
"Fucking git," she muttered. "Thinking he's so high and mighty. Just because he's the Crown Prince. Stupid, stuck-up-" there was a knock at the door "-Come in," she said sweetly. A maid came in looking a bit scared if truth be told. She curtseyed quickly and kept her head low so as not to make any eye contact.
"It's about the material you have requested, ma'am," she said shyly. "We need to know what type of material you wish for and what colours you would like."
"Colours I can tell you," said Silva. "A deep forest green, a pale green, white and silver. But materials I can't help you with since have no knowledge of such things. I would like a mixture of something for everyday wear, you know, something that can handle the strain of daily activities. And I would also like something for formal occasions. Relatively plain but elegant. Something easy to work with. Can you do that?" The Elf maid had decided to write everything down because she wouldn't remember all of Silva's vague instructions. She nodded her.
"You shall have them by tomorrow morning at the latest, ma'am," she said. "Any required amount?"
"Whatever you can give me," said Silva. "I'm going to be here for quite a while. Oh, and please don't call me ma'am. It's not my style. You can call me Silva, I don't mind. I don't go in for the whole status thing. I show respect, but not because of status." The maid blushed and looked as if she had been blessed with the greatest honour ever.
"Oh, thank you, ma- I mean, Silva," she said. She curtseyed and scurried out of the room, a beaming smile on her face. Silva chuckled to herself.
"Bless," she said. She re-seated herself at the dressing table and took up the wooden comb once more. "Now then, where was I? Oh yes. Fucking git! Thinking he's better than me...."
When she awoke the next morning, sure enough, the fabric had arrived. Eight rolls of material stood upright against the opposite wall. Four of each type of fabric and to of each colour. And, by the looks of them, they were going to last a while as well. She smiled, knowing full well that this was going to keep her occupied for a long time.
She looked out of her window onto the small plain before the castle. A group of four or five Elves were having a target practice session. This wasn't the first time she'd watched from her window, most mornings she did so. She found it fascinating, enchanting, seeing the raw talent that stood before her, though she was sadden in knowing that this gift could cost them their lives one day in battle. Soon, she was so deep in thought that she lost all track of time and two hours past. She was awakened by a knock on the door from a messenger.
"The King sends his regards along with a request for you to join him in the throne room," said the messenger. "He wonders at our not arriving to breakfast this morning, as you usually do." Silva gasped when she realised that it was nearing midday and she'd completely skipped breakfast.
"Send my apologies," she said. "I lost track of time. Tell him I shall join him as soon as I am suitably dressed to do so." The messenger left to relay the message whilst Silva frantically grabbed some clothes and through the on. She then ran to the throne room.
"I am so sorry, my lord," she said and quickly walked to his side. "I lost myself in thought and should have stayed so had you not summoned me. I am sorry I did not attend breakfast this morning."
"It does not matter, fair one," said Thranduil. "I am just glad to see you are well, for I feared otherwise. You are here now and that is the main thing. Tell me, did your materials arrive?"
"Yes they did, and I am most pleased," she said. "I was not exactly precise or accurate with my requests, but your people have, well, to put it bluntly, come up trumps!" Thranduil laughed aloud.
"This is good news," he said.
"There was something else I wanted to ask you though," she said. "I have become very taken with archery recently. I watch the young ones train almost every morning with great interest. This morning I did so and became lost in thought, that's why I was late. I was wondering if, perhaps, somebody could teach me? I also thought it would be good for me if I could wield more than just a sword."
"Your wish is my command, fair one," said Thranduil. "And for you I shall suffer no less than the best, for it is what you deserve after the deeds you have done in my home."
"I don't want to put you out," she said.
"Nonsense," he said. "I promised you on the day of our meeting that you could have whatever you wished. And I shall provide you with the best that I have. I shall inform my son that he is to teach you when you wish to begin."
"Legolas?" she said. "Legolas is going to teach me archery?"
"Yes, is that a problem?"
"No, no problem," she said. "But I didn't know you meant that good looking... ARGH! I meant good! I meant good! Oh crap! Did I really just say that out loud?" Thranduil stifled a laugh. He knew already of this for he had seen the adoring looks she gave his son when she thought no one was looking.
"Yes, you did," said Thranduil. "But not a word shall pass my lips on the matter for it is not my place to discuss it with anyone. I shall not tell him, you need not worry. You shall speak to him yourself when you deem the time is right."
"Thank you," she said. "I'd be so embarrassed. We don't exactly see eye to eye."
"I have noticed," he said. "But things will change. As he teaches you, you will learn to get along."
"I hope your right, for his sake," she said. "Although, I don't think he'd be an ugly pot plant." Thranduil laughed aloud again.
"Do not jest about my son so," he said.
"Who's jesting?"
"Clothes," Silva muttered to herself. "I need more clothes." She had packed a bare minimal (well, her version anyway) as she hadn't expected to end up living anywhere.
Several changes of clothing she had brought with her, but they were hardly going to last her a lifetime, were they? She'd have to make some more. 'Thranduil did say anything,' she thought. 'Maybe I could ask him for some rolls of materials.' She began to think up some designs.
The day began to draw to an end when she realised she still didn't have material. So she set off to the throne room where Thranduil would undoubtedly be.
Sure enough, she found him. He was delighted as ever to see her for she was now as a daughter to him even after only being there a month and even though she was several centuries older than him. (A/N: O_o That's just weird!)
"Good evening, vanya er, and what may I do for you?" he said on her entry. (Vanya er - Fair one)
"Good evening, my lord," she replied. "I was wondering if here was any way I could get hold of some rolls of material. You see I'm beginning to run out of clothes so I wish to make some more." She knew what he was about to say.
"I can have some clothes made for you," said Thranduil. "You need not make them yourself."
" 'Tis not a bother, my lord," she said. "Also, some of the designs I have in mind are quite complex and..... rather different."
"If you are sure," said Thranduil. Silva nodded her head. "Then I shall see that you have you material by morning. Though you will be approached by somebody about colours and what not." (A/N: Lol! What not! Can you really see Thranduil saying what not? Hehehe!)
"Thank you, my lord, you are most kind," she said with a curtsey. She left the room in a sort of dreamy state, making mental adjustments to her designs. She was so deep in though that she walked straight into someone. Someone being Legolas.
"Watch where you're- oh," said Silva. She tensed up as soon as she saw who it was. Although she was still having the 'stupid, crappy, loved-up' feelings about, they didn't get along at all.
"Sorry," he said, stiffly.
"Not your fault," she murmured. "Good evening." With that, she swiftly returned to her room.
She stormed into her chambers and slammed the door behind her. She threw the chair our from under the dressing table roughly, sat down and started brushing her hair (she always found it calming for some reason).
"Fucking git," she muttered. "Thinking he's so high and mighty. Just because he's the Crown Prince. Stupid, stuck-up-" there was a knock at the door "-Come in," she said sweetly. A maid came in looking a bit scared if truth be told. She curtseyed quickly and kept her head low so as not to make any eye contact.
"It's about the material you have requested, ma'am," she said shyly. "We need to know what type of material you wish for and what colours you would like."
"Colours I can tell you," said Silva. "A deep forest green, a pale green, white and silver. But materials I can't help you with since have no knowledge of such things. I would like a mixture of something for everyday wear, you know, something that can handle the strain of daily activities. And I would also like something for formal occasions. Relatively plain but elegant. Something easy to work with. Can you do that?" The Elf maid had decided to write everything down because she wouldn't remember all of Silva's vague instructions. She nodded her.
"You shall have them by tomorrow morning at the latest, ma'am," she said. "Any required amount?"
"Whatever you can give me," said Silva. "I'm going to be here for quite a while. Oh, and please don't call me ma'am. It's not my style. You can call me Silva, I don't mind. I don't go in for the whole status thing. I show respect, but not because of status." The maid blushed and looked as if she had been blessed with the greatest honour ever.
"Oh, thank you, ma- I mean, Silva," she said. She curtseyed and scurried out of the room, a beaming smile on her face. Silva chuckled to herself.
"Bless," she said. She re-seated herself at the dressing table and took up the wooden comb once more. "Now then, where was I? Oh yes. Fucking git! Thinking he's better than me...."
When she awoke the next morning, sure enough, the fabric had arrived. Eight rolls of material stood upright against the opposite wall. Four of each type of fabric and to of each colour. And, by the looks of them, they were going to last a while as well. She smiled, knowing full well that this was going to keep her occupied for a long time.
She looked out of her window onto the small plain before the castle. A group of four or five Elves were having a target practice session. This wasn't the first time she'd watched from her window, most mornings she did so. She found it fascinating, enchanting, seeing the raw talent that stood before her, though she was sadden in knowing that this gift could cost them their lives one day in battle. Soon, she was so deep in thought that she lost all track of time and two hours past. She was awakened by a knock on the door from a messenger.
"The King sends his regards along with a request for you to join him in the throne room," said the messenger. "He wonders at our not arriving to breakfast this morning, as you usually do." Silva gasped when she realised that it was nearing midday and she'd completely skipped breakfast.
"Send my apologies," she said. "I lost track of time. Tell him I shall join him as soon as I am suitably dressed to do so." The messenger left to relay the message whilst Silva frantically grabbed some clothes and through the on. She then ran to the throne room.
"I am so sorry, my lord," she said and quickly walked to his side. "I lost myself in thought and should have stayed so had you not summoned me. I am sorry I did not attend breakfast this morning."
"It does not matter, fair one," said Thranduil. "I am just glad to see you are well, for I feared otherwise. You are here now and that is the main thing. Tell me, did your materials arrive?"
"Yes they did, and I am most pleased," she said. "I was not exactly precise or accurate with my requests, but your people have, well, to put it bluntly, come up trumps!" Thranduil laughed aloud.
"This is good news," he said.
"There was something else I wanted to ask you though," she said. "I have become very taken with archery recently. I watch the young ones train almost every morning with great interest. This morning I did so and became lost in thought, that's why I was late. I was wondering if, perhaps, somebody could teach me? I also thought it would be good for me if I could wield more than just a sword."
"Your wish is my command, fair one," said Thranduil. "And for you I shall suffer no less than the best, for it is what you deserve after the deeds you have done in my home."
"I don't want to put you out," she said.
"Nonsense," he said. "I promised you on the day of our meeting that you could have whatever you wished. And I shall provide you with the best that I have. I shall inform my son that he is to teach you when you wish to begin."
"Legolas?" she said. "Legolas is going to teach me archery?"
"Yes, is that a problem?"
"No, no problem," she said. "But I didn't know you meant that good looking... ARGH! I meant good! I meant good! Oh crap! Did I really just say that out loud?" Thranduil stifled a laugh. He knew already of this for he had seen the adoring looks she gave his son when she thought no one was looking.
"Yes, you did," said Thranduil. "But not a word shall pass my lips on the matter for it is not my place to discuss it with anyone. I shall not tell him, you need not worry. You shall speak to him yourself when you deem the time is right."
"Thank you," she said. "I'd be so embarrassed. We don't exactly see eye to eye."
"I have noticed," he said. "But things will change. As he teaches you, you will learn to get along."
"I hope your right, for his sake," she said. "Although, I don't think he'd be an ugly pot plant." Thranduil laughed aloud again.
"Do not jest about my son so," he said.
"Who's jesting?"