Daughter Of Lórien || Book 1||

Ch 41 ~ A Visit to the Kitchens

"What are we doing in the kitchens?"

When Legolas dragged me away from the balcony I hadn't known where we were going but the kitchens hadn't been the first place that popped into my head. We'd ran through the halls like children, past confused revelers and slightly-irritated servants until we'd stopped here, peeking just around the corner at the flickering glow of the kitchen hearths faintly illuminating the hallway.

Deeming that the coast is clear, Legolas drags me through the arching entranceway, hand still clasped around mine.

A wave of heat hits my face, followed by the sweet scent of sugary pastries.

Legolas' eyes are playful as he looks back at me, still leading me along. "Just wait."

He tugs me to one of the secluded storage-rooms by the entrance, glancing around to check that none of the bustling staff have noticed us, and then pushes me into the dim room.

My vision quickly adjusts to the faint starlight and I twist to him as he lightly shuts the door, my brows raised in question.

He just rolls his eyes and placing his hands on my shoulders, turns me around.

My eyes go wide as I take in the sight before me. Chocolate sweets of every kind lay piled tall atop a long table, spreading from one end of the room to the other.

I let out a little squeak. "That's a lot of chocolate."

Legolas' grin is wide as he watches the delight playing across my face.

"Take your pick," he says, gesturing to the table.

I manage to tear my gaze away from the sweets to give him a frown. "We're not supposed to be in here, are we?"

Legolas shrugs toward the open door of the storage-room, to the kitchen staff bustling around out of view. "They won't notice."

A smirk tugs at my lips.

"Doesn't that depend on how many of the pastries we steal?" I drawl, plucking a chocolate-covered strawberry off the top of a pile for emphasis.

He grins, arms folded behind his back as he leans down, my heart skipping a beat at the warm breath that brushes against my ear.

I can hear the smirk in his voice as he whispers, "Then try not to eat the whole table, princess."

I toss the strawberry at him but he ducks, laughing as it flies over his head. Giving him a particularly rude gesture, I snatch up an empty tray and begin filling it with pastries. He leans against the wall, still chuckling as he points out his favorites to me.

My platter is starting to get heavy, Legolas in the middle of some story about the pastry in my hand, when I pause, snapping to attention at the sound of footsteps approaching. A quick glance up at Legolas tells me he hears it too, his eyes darting to the door.

My feet act before my head. I start to make a run for it but Legolas snatches the tray from my hands and hooking an arm around my waist, tugs me into an empty alcove by the back of the room. And not a moment too soon because we'd just managed to squeeze in when the door opens, light bleeding in from the kitchens beyond. A shelf along the wall blocks the door from view, my pastry-ladden tray now perched atop it.

What I assume is one of the kitchen staff comes in, footsteps echoing in the quiet room, only overpowered by the rush of blood pounding in my ears. My heart hammers in my chest as they get closer and closer to our hiding spot and then pause, just a few feet away. I spy chesnut-colored hair through one of the gaps in the shelf and silently pray they won't notice the rogue platter of sweets directly behind their head. Each second feels longer than the last but finally the servant simply grabs a tray from the table and then heads back out, plunging us into darkness once more.

I strain my ears, listening for any other sign of someone approaching but the the space beyond the door remains silent.

After another moment I let my shoulders sag and release the breath I'd been holding in. It is only now that I realize my hands are gripping the front of Legolas' tunic. The alcove we're huddled in is tiny, no more than a storage closet for provisions, leaving little space for two elves hiding from the kitchen staff. Legolas' arm is still clutched around my waist, holding my body against his, so close that I can feel the accelerated heartbeat within his chest matching my own.

Color floods my cheeks, only partially caused by the heat that radiates from him. I mentally scold it away.

"You're stepping on my foot, princeling," I hiss, but my reprimand lacks its usual bite as I squirm, only succeeding in further informing me of just how tightly I am pressed up against him.

All he does is shush me, a roguish half-smile on his face as he continues to watch the door with mischief in his eyes. I glare up at him but he doesn't budge. A few more moments of silence pass, our breathing the only sounds in the dark before he turns back to me.

I watch as the realization at our closeness flashes in his eyes and then disappears as quickly as it came. With a cool grin he gracefully slides out of the alcove and then offers a hand to me.

"M'lady," he drawls, a smirk tugging at one side of his lips.

I roll my eyes but allow him to tug me out of the narrow space. His demeanor is as collected as ever but I don't fail to notice that he drops my hand as soon as he's helped me out.

I pretend to smooth my skirts as Legolas grabs our pastry tray from the shelf. My cheeks still feel slightly flushed.

Legolas clears his throat, drawing my attention away from my slightly-crumpled gown. "We should probably go before anyone comes back."

I cross my arms. "Well, I definitely like that idea more than getting shoved into the closet again."

His brows shoot up, the grin returning to his face. "You say that as if you wouldn't have been caught if you'd made a run for it."

I smirk back at him. "You say that as if you're so sure I would have been."

He scoffs, about to fire back a retort but then pauses, listening. The distant sound of approaching footsteps has my ears perking up with his.

This time, my mind works faster than his and spinning him around, I shove him toward the door.

"Move, move, move!"

Grabbing his free hand, we sprint out the room with muffled laughter, sweet-heavy tray in tow.