Thranduil looked up at the dining room window as he passed underneath it on his stroll through the royal gardens. His feet crunched on the pebbles and a rose thorn snagged on his shoulder. He came to the end of the flower beds and stepped past the last hedge to face the stone wall draped with moss. He knew the kitchen gardens were on the other side and longed for a handful of peas fresh off the vine.

"Thranduil! Ion nin."

The elfling turned at Harune's call and shouted. Harune joined him at the wall. "Oropher has agreed to dismiss Amber and Tayan."

"Is it true?" Thranduil asked. "That elves are starving?"

Harune squeezed his shoulder. "It is true not everyone leads as easeful a life as us."

"So it is true," Thranduil said.

"Yes," Harune answered.

"Why does Oropher not care?" Thranduil asked. "Surely he could do something to—to help the hungry?"

"Oropher's vision does not extend past nobility," Harune said.

"I need to learn," Thranduil said. "I need to learn everything I can so I can fix Mirkwood."

"That is not your responsibility, Thranduil," Harune said kindly.

"But it will be!" Thranduil insisted. "If I want to do anything now, I have to be prepared to talk to Oropher in a language he understands. I need good teachers, ada."

"I will find people who will teach you," Harune said. "But I am sad the elfling I know is growing old too fast."

Thranduil grinned, and his blue eyes twinkled. "Oh, ada, I will not forget my life without you, but I will not let the memories drag me down. Besides, I know the teachers you find me will be fun."

Harune smiled. "How is your hand?"

Thranduil held up his hand. The marks of Amber's pointer had faded but his fingers still felt stiff when he wiggled them. "It is better. Is there a way into the kitchen gardens, ada?"

"I should hope so!" Harune replied. "Through the kitchens is the only way in." He smacked the stone wall. "I do not why, but it is walled off."

Thranduil followed the path past a row of sweet-smelling lilac bushes. Harune walked beside him to the palace gates and stepped up onto the stairs. At their approach, the guards swung open the left-hand door. Thranduil glanced over his shoulder as he passed through; the coifed heads of noblemen and women poked up over the bushes as they strolled the gardens. Would they ever walk through a forest stream?

Thranduil bid Harune goodbye. He knew the way to the kitchens; following the stairs into the lower regions of the palace, he came around a curve in the stairs and stepped down onto a stone floor. He stood still to breathe in the crusty smell of fresh bread and the tang of bubbling sugar.

In aprons and caps with sleeves rolled to their elbows, maids hurried across the long floor with bowls at their hips or brooms in their hands. The kitchens stretched, it seemed, almost the length of the palace, longer then it was wide. With shelves and counters against nearly every wall, and flour-dusted tables down the center of the kitchen, loaves of bread cooled on a table away from racks of pastries flaking with melted butter.

Several doors led out of the kitchens; Thranduil knew they connected to a maze of stairs that reached into the far corners of the palace, where servants passed quietly to fill baths and deliver trays of food.

Thranduil darted across the floor and out the wide open doors opposite him. immediately cobblestoned paths led past beds of herbs and vegetables swelling with juice during the early days of summer.

"Are you lost?" a voice demanded.

Thranduil whirled around and stared at the girl standing behind him. She held a basket filled with turnips and her purple hair matched the streaks in the white vegetables.

"I am looking for the peas," Thranduil said.

The girl's blue eyes twinkled. "I will show you the way; I have to pass the trellises on my way home. Nana sent me for turnips. I am Nimrethil."

"Thranduil," Thranduil answered. He followed the hem of the girl's brown dress across the cobblestones.

"I have never seen you here," Nimrethil remarked. "Your hair is hard to miss."

"So is yours," Thranduil said. Nimrethil giggled. Thranduil continued, "I am visiting. You are right; I have never been here before, but I wish I had come sooner."

"My family are gardeners," Nimrethil said. She swung her basket and skipped. "I do not mind living right off the gardens, but I want to be a cook and cook for the king." Her eyes shone.

"My ada said he would teach me to cook one day," Thranduil answered.

"Here are the peas," Nimrethil said. She pointed to a dozen rows of wooden trellises laced with green vines. "But if you pick any, you might have to run. Agan chases you with a hoe if he sees you."

"I will risk it," Thranduil decided. He walked along the first row of peas and felt along the leaves for the plump pods. With his hands full, he rejoined Nimrethil and offered her a bunch of peas.

Crunching on the peas, Nimrethil continued to walk and Thranduil followed. He looked up at the palace ahead; moss grew along the eaves and the shining windows offered peeks into the rooms inside.

Nimrethil followed his gaze. "It looks so cozy! I have always wanted to see the inside, and the fine ladies dressed in silk."

"It is not as nice as you might think," Thranduil replied. "It is freer out here, and the fine ladies slap you if you touch their dresses."

"You have been inside!" Nimrethil exclaimed.

Thranduil hesitated. "Yes . . ."

The garden path wound to the door of a cottage built off one of the palace's lower walls. A fence ran around the yard, and a dirt path led from the front gate to the door.

"This is my home," Nimrethil announced. She opened the gate. "If nana says you may join us for lunch, you can tell me all about the palace."

"I do not like to intrude," Thranduil began.

Nimrethil shook her head. "Silly! You are not intruding. I invited you." She ran into the cottage and Thranduil heard her calling, "Nana! I brought home a friend."

A moment later her purple head poked out the door and Nimrethil gestured to him. "Come inside. Nana says it is fine if you stay for lunch."

Thranduil entered the cottage. He smelt onions even though the windows were all open, letting in fresh air. A toddler played on the floor of the open sitting room with a toy horse and tree. The elfling glanced at him before returning to his game.

Nimrethil flung open the door to the kitchen and announced, "This is him!"

A woman turned around from the cookstove in the corner and the man setting plates at the round table in the center of the room looked up. Their broad smiles slipped.

"You said he could come!" Nimrethil exclaimed.

The woman put down the fork in her hand and brushed her hands off on her checkered apron. "Nimrethil, my child, you did not tell us your friend was the prince. Prince Thranduil," she bowed.

"Prince!" Nimrethil said. She looked at Thranduil. "So that is how you know so much about the palace."

"No! Do not bow!" Thranduil said, putting out a hand to stop Nimrethil. "I do not want you to. I was enjoying being treated like everyone else but . . . I am sorry I came. I will leave."

The woman glanced at her husband. After a moment she said, "You are welcome to stay."

Thranduil examined her pensive face. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she assured him.

Nimrethil grabbed Thranduil's hand. "You must sit next to me! Oh, this is nana and ada—um, Ivy and Python."

"I do not bite," Python said.

Thranduil grinned as he slid into the chair Nimrethil pointed to. With no elaborate display of silver candlesticks and wax flowers, only a tall vase of proud yellow blossoms decorated the table. A plate ringed with painted blue flowers, a plain fork and knife, and a napkin alongside a water glass completed each place setting.

"Is something missing?" Nimrethil asked.

"No," Thranduil said. "I am just glad there is no oyster fork."

"I have never had oysters," Nimrethil said. "We are having salad and toast and onion balls. Nana is frying them."

Ivy turned away from the stove with a platter of golden balls still sizzling from the oil. She set the platter on the table alongside a covered basket of toast and a wide wooden bowl of salad. She sat down, her hazel eyes resting on Thranduil.

Thranduil tried to smile but found it difficult as Python disappeared into the sitting room and came back with the toddler on his hip. He sat the elfling on a seat piled with books beside him.

As Ivy passed the salad bowl, Nimrethil asked, "What do oysters taste like?"

Thranduil stared at the sliced pickled cucumbers and feta crumbles in his salad. "I am told they taste like the sea but, if so, they dry out my mouth."

"I have never been to the sea," Nimrethil said.

"Me neither," Thranduil said. "It is a long way from here."

He gazed at the onion balls and Ivy explained, "It is onions and peas rolled with cottage cheese and fried."

"We eat them with yogurt sauce," Nimrethil said, and thrust the pitcher under Thranduil's nose. "But Lucil likes them smeared on toast." She gestured to where Python helped the toddler tear his bread into smaller pieces.

Thranduil popped an onion ball into his mouth and savored the warm cheese, crispy with peas and flecked with soft, sweet onions. When he swallowed, he said, "This is one of the best meals I have had. I was so tired of three course and Oropher yelling at the servants when a corner of his meat is browner then the rest."

"The only one we yell at when the food is not right is nana," Nimrethil said sweetly, and giggled as Ivy mimed throwing a cucumber slice at her.

Thanks so much for reading! I hope you are all happy and healthy; I love hearing your thoughts at the close of each chapter.

Next Chapter: Thranduil meets his tutors.