"My Prince," the cook bowed. "It is an honor to receive you."
Thranduil glanced around. A neat row of maids stood in a crescent behind the head cook and the flour had been dusted from every cooking surface and table.
"We have prepared a small space for you," the head cook said. She gestured to a table with two small baskets overflowing with small jars and greens. "Here you may cook anything."
Thranduil scowled. "I wanted to cook with ada in a real kitchen. Who told you to prepare this?"
Harune's hand on his shoulder pressed gently and Thranduil drew in a breath.
The head cook bowed. "Forgive me, my prince, we did not mean to displease you. We have done as we always do when our lords grace us with their presence."
"I ran through here days ago and no one batted an eyelid," Thranduil said.
"We did not mean to ignore you, my prince."
"I do not want a reception every time I come here, because I will come often to cook lunch," Thranduil said. "I do not even want to be addressed as the prince. All I want is the common respect you give your peers. And I am insulted by this fake cooking station. Insulted!"
Thranduil watched the maids hide smiles.
"And now that he has spoken his mind, we will take any free space you can afford us," Harune said.
"There is a countertop and table near the stoves you may use," the head cook said. "Please make use of it and any ingredients you may need."
"Thank you," Thranduil said. "What is your name?'
The woman half-turned as she walked away. "Hafia," she said.
Harune handed Thranduil an apron and tied one on himself. "Today is a good day for pancakes. I will show you where the flour and milk is stored. Be mindful at the stoves!"
The range of stovetops glistened with heat, a red glow escaping from the cracks between the oven doors. The sound of frying onions smelled sweet and a great cloud of smoke went up as a dash of liquid sloshed into the frying pan and the cook shook it.
Harune saw Thranduil's face and laughed. "It takes months of practice to make a pan dance without spilling anything. Come, the pantry is this way."
The pantry door was closer to the great clay baking ovens with their round dome roofs then the stoves, but the ovens were dead. Outside in the gardens, the ovens there blazed with heat.
Jars, barrels, and bins stocked the tidy pantry shelves, and the floor was cool stone. Neat labels marked each shelf as the long room receded back as far as Thranduil could see.
With flour from the pantry and milk and eggs from the ice box, Harune showed Thranduil how to whisk smooth the light batter and pour it onto a buttered gridle. The heat touched his face as Thranduil flipped the pancakes, clumsy at first but flipping a perfect circle by the last cake. Topped with chunks of melting butter and fried scallions, Harune and Thranduil sat down to eat at an empty table.
"Lunch tastes much better when we cook it together," Thranduil said.
"If you like, we can cook lunch every day," Harune suggested. "With the garden growing, the learning possibilities are endless."
Thranduil's smile stretched and stopped as he remembered Nimrethil. He took another bite of pancake. "I would like to spend time here and in the gardens. I do not like the way the servants treat me, as if there will be punishments if they speak their minds."
"Spending time among them will certainly help normalize your presence," Harune said. He reached for Thranduil's hand. "But, ion nin, there is no need to set about trying to repair gaps made centuries ago when you are still a child."
"You always say it is better to start now," Thranduil said stoutly.
Harune sat back. "I will not watch you endure a miserable childhood."
Thranduil grinned. "There is no chance of that, ada, when you are here!"
Harune chuckled and collected their plates. "Come, I will show you how to wash up."
Thranduil followed Harune to the dish sinks. Water from a nearby spring was heated overtop of the stoves and poured into the stone basins. Drains carried the used water through a sieve and out into the gardens.
Splashed from washing their plates, Thranduil waved goodbye to Harune and ran out into the gardens. His legs hurt from sword practice, so he slowed to a trot near the pea trellises and collected a handful of pods warm from the sun.
Thranduil thought about visiting Nimrethil, but Ivy's cold goodbye stuck in his mind and made him turn away. He found a gate leading out of the gardens and followed a path until he found the silver birch trees he saw so often from the training hall.
Munching peas, Thranduil skipped into the birches, attracted by the close-by shouts of elven youths hard at work in the training fields. Wooden scarecrows defied steel and oak blades alike as rows of young elves, from elflings to almost-grown warriors, attacked the mock people.
Thranduil sat down under a tree at the edge of the field and finished his peas. He watched the instructors, spying Yuai among them, dueling with the older students. And, even with a thick strip of trees between the two fields, Thranduil heard the thunk! of arrows striking their targets in the archery range. He wanted to join in on the practice and feel the grass under his feet instead of circling with Yuai and Kryn in a closed room.
Thranduil sighed as he walked toward the archery fields, wondering if Kryn would be among the instructors. Before the crossed the dividing stripe of trees, he stopped and listening, frowning at the misplaced sound of wood hitting wood. He followed the noise away from the training fields and wriggled through a thicket patch to climb up a grassy knoll offering clear glimpse of the older swords-students practicing forms.
A bow with a wooden sword dueled with a tree. Thranduil watched the way his feet moved, as if they breathed the ground. Not much older then him, the elfling tumbled and rolled, fighting with an invisible enemy until his breath gave way and he sat down to rest.
"You are good," Thranduil said. "You should join the students in the field."
The boy's head jerked up and his yellow eyes narrowed. His fingers tensed on his sword and he shook his head.
"Why not?" Thranduil asked.
"It costs a lot of gold," the boy answered.
"You have to—to pay?"
The boy snorted. "What world are you from? See all those students? They are nobleman's sons and daughters. There is no room for me."
Thranduil glanced toward the field, seeing it in fresh colors. "I—I did not know it cost gold."
The boy slashed his sword against the ground. "It is an unfair world. I am Hyrondal."
"I am Thranduil," Thranduil said. He paused. "I am the Prince."
"No joke!" Hyrondal snapped. "We all wish we were."
"I am," Thranduil insisted. He frowned. "When I do not tell Nimrethil, she avoids me and when I tell you, you think I am lying."
Hyrondal folded his arms. "I have seen pictures of the King. You do look like him."
"I have to take private sword and bow lessons," Thranduil said. "But I would rather be out in the fields."
"You should be grateful you even have the chance to learn! At least your father—"
"Oropher does not care what I want," Thranduil interrupted. "I have duties I must fulfill. I must learn everything my forefathers learned, even if it is old and wasted. I am lucky I have ada or I would not even be able to see sunshine."
Hyrondal scowled, this time in confusion. Thranduil explained his relationship with Harune.
"So you are a spoilt, ungrateful royal brat," Hyrondal sneered. "If I were you, I would learn all I could."
"I do learn!" Thranduil cried. "How would you like to be shut inside all day? No one learns like that!"
"I would do anything to have the opportunities you have," Hyrondal retorted. "You do not know how much nothing to you would mean everything to me."
"I do not like gaps," Thranduil said quietly.
Hyrondal snapped, "Go away! I was happy before you showed up and I do not care if you are the prince."
"I have not done anything," Thranduil protested.
Hyrondal pointed his sword at him. "Leave or I will make you."
After watching Hyrondal practice, Thranduil knew he would be no match for the elf. He turned and left.
"Do not tell anyone you saw me!" Hyrondal yelled. His voiced rang with desperation.
Thranduil is learning more and more about Silvercreek's shady corners. As I love sharing this writing with you, feel free to leave your thoughts!
Next Chapter: Thranduil runs into trouble in the royal gardens.