Autumn Nights - A Narnia Oneshot Challenge

On My Honor

Prompt: candles

Sometime in October, circa 1901

Polly dipped her wick into the pot of melted wax, then gently dipped it in cold water. She pulled it out, an almost invisible layer of cooling wax coating the string.

"How long does this take?" Digory asked in horror, eyes wide and mouth gaping.

Polly repeated the dipping process. "Have you never made candles before?"

Mrs. Kirke laughed. "He's never had the patience for candle making—I'm just glad he agreed to do it with you."

Digory slumped in his chair. "We could be outside riding horses, but no, we're in the kitchen making candles, like girls."

"I am a girl—" Polly frowned, pouting in Digory's direction. "Besides, it's raining. So we can't ride horses, anyway."

Digory reached for metal nut, estranged from its pile on the table. Polly and Mrs. Kirke were using them to weigh down the wicks. Digory dangled the nut over the pot of wax and dropped it in with a 'plop'.

Polly yelped and her chair tipped backward. Digory lunged forward to steady it.

"Digory Kirke!" His mother scolded. "What on earth was going through your head? That's hot wax!" She turned to Polly. "Are you hurt, my dear?"

"Not really," she said, lifting up her forearm to display the burn. "There's a little on my arm, but it's almost hardened."

"Oh," Mrs. Kirke tutted. "Let me get a cold cloth and some rosebud salve." A few minutes later, she returned with the remedies, ready to get to work on her patient. Gingerly, she peeled the wax off Polly's arm, pulling it away like snakeskin, revealing a raw, red patch. She pressed the cool cloth against it, cleaning it gently. "Let me know if this hurts, dear."

"It doesn't," Polly said. "It only smarts a little."

Brow creased, Digory watched over Polly's shoulder. The mark was about the size of a shilling. Mrs. Kirke massaged the sweet-smelling salve onto the burn. Digory winced. "I'm awful sorry, Pols—I didn't mean to get any on you, honest."

"I know," Polly smiled. "No harm, no foul."

"But you two best be careful—if this young lady ever gets hurt worse than this her parents won't let her spend holidays with us—" Mrs. Kirke covered the spot with a plaster.

Digory nodded, resolute. "I promise," he raised his right hand, placing the other on his chest. "On my honor as a man."

Polly blushed.

The sun came out later in the afternoon, but the children weren't to be found riding horses. They were in Mrs. Kirke's kitchen, dipping candles in wax and cool water, laughing as Mrs. Kirke told stories of her girlhood. Digory didn't complain one bit—he didn't even notice when the rain stopped.

~~~

Author's Note: Sorry that today's is so short, but I didn't have time to make it any longer. I'm excited to use the weekend to play catch-up! Despite the juggling this takes, I have immensely enjoyed the first week! Thanks for coming along!

-Judith