The Prince's Pretend Mother

Sixth Entry - One Thing Among Many

Love means to learn to look at yourself
The way one looks at distant things
For you are only one thing among many.
And whoever sees that way heals his heart,
Without knowing it, from various ills—
A bird and a tree say to him: Friend.

Then he wants to use himself and things
So that they stand in the glow of ripeness.
It doesn't matter whether he knows what he serves:

Who serves best doesn't always understand.

*

I woke the next morning and noticed something lumpy sitting on my bureau, wrapped in cobalt silk. My sleek, beautiful, frustrating cane leaned against the nightstand beside the bed so I threaded it into my fingers and eased my legs over the side, tipping onto my feet. My satin dressing robe lay over the carved footboard and with difficulty I wrapped myself into it, leaning into one of the bedposts for balance when I had to release the cane. I leaned my hips into the bureau, cane tucked under my arm, and gently unpeeled the package from its silken wrappings. The underside of the apparently two-sided scarf was a rich, russet orange, and a smile grew on my lips. I knew whose favorite color that was, not that he would ever admit it.

I unwrapped the silk—it would make for a fine shawl, or scarf—and beamed when I saw what lay underneath: a round-edged knuckle, the size of three of my fists, of raw silver. Untouched, unworked virgin metal free for me to smelt and craft myself. The wrapping, when I untangled it, turned out to be a scarf after all.

I wore the scarf with a pale gray dress as I went to thank Thranduil for his gift. It took me an hour to get there, I stopped so frequently to rest on stone benches in the halls. Several maids and friends of mine offered me help, which I turned down the first ten minutes of my sojourn, but after that I accepted them every time, and the men and women handed me from one to the other until I reached the royal family's suite. As it was I still had to stop within sight of it to catch my breath and to let my body try to appeal to my sanity.

"I can't believe you've come all this way to say 'thank you' when you could have just sent a card," remarked the maid who was holding me up now, as there was not a bench in sight.

"I know," I gasped. "Now let's hurry to the finish, before my reason catches up with me."

Neither Thranduil nor Legolas were home when I arrived but the house staff all knew me, and guided me to a thickly padded, patterned crimson divan where I could put my legs up and lean back into the tall armrest until someone returned to save me from impending catastrophic boredom. One of the maids—Linwea's great-niece, if I wasn't mistaken—brought me a small plate of olives and cheeses she remembered me favoring, and I sent her off with an affectionate smile.

I didn't intend to fall asleep but since when does one sleep when they wish to? I awoke to Thranduil's cool, amused voice. "I do not recall giving you permission to exert yourself today. And yet I am offended that you were not here the moment you awoke. Did you not leave the moment you discovered my gift?"

I rubbed a film out of my eyes and smiled wryly up at him. "Unfortunately I did, to answer your question. As to the previous two very contradictory statements, since when have you waited to give me permission for something?"

He nodded to one side, acceding. "It's been a while. How did you sleep?"

"I was sleeping quite well, thank you for disrupting it."

"This is my house, I may come and go as I please, and disrupt all who enter it without invitation."

I snorted. "You told me decades ago I didn't need your invitation."

"Yes. When you were attending to Legolas. What do you think you are allowed to do, visit socially?"

I couldn't maintain my half of our cool exteriors any longer and laughed. "I'm sorry, I was bored."