Singing Hearts

Chapter 1: Sir Knight

        Edorta walked down the stone passageway, humming to herself as she balanced the silver tray in her arms. Little did she know, Sir Timon of Kotta was running very late for a duel. He rounded the corner at a sprint, Edorta’s slight figure escaping his notice, until he collided with her with the force of a frightened horse, sending her tray flying through the air. It landed with a clatter on Timon, running down his breast plate and into his helmet, tucked under his arm.

        “Pardon me, my apologies,” muttered Edorta, hastily collecting the bowl and tray.

        “No, pardon me, take my apologies for not seeing you,” replied Timon. Surprised he would take the blame, Edorta looked up. Timon sucked in a startled breath, recognizing her. 

        Edorta stared back, doe eyed.

        “I-Lady Adwen will be angry; I have to go-I-excuse me!” Dipping into a curtsy, Edorta cradled the tray to her chest and rushed off. Before she disappeared, Timon unfroze.

        “Wait!” he called. She froze, turning back quickly. “I-I don’t know your name,” he stuttered.

        “The name of a humble kitchen servant is nothing with which to concern your-self with, Sir Knight.” Edorta, blushing furiously, dipped in a final curtsy before running off. For a moment, Timon didn’t move, barely registering that the dark haired servant had, once again, slipped right between his fingers. The pounding echo of footsteps on stone pulled him from his stupor.

        “Sir Timon,” a breathless voice gasped. Timon cleared his head with a shake to find one of the pages standing in front of him. “Sir Timon, if you plan on meeting Sir Hildegard for the before scheduled duel, I will gladly accompany you there.”

        “That is not necessary, please inform Sir Hildegard that I am unable to attend. “ The page opened his mouth, but Timon broke in. “I know, if I fail to attend, the match is forfeit, but I have more pressing matters to attend to.” The page, grumbling to him-self, ran off, still carrying a shield over one shoulder. Timon wandered up the hallway back towards his room to clean off his armor, the face of the doe eyed kitchen girl floating before him.

        Meanwhile, Edorta was hurrying to deliver another tray up the stone staircase leading up to Adwan’s room. After a moment of contemplation on the subject of knocking without hands, she turned her back to the door and tapped it with her head.

        “Come in!” Adwan called. She pushed the door open, backing into the room.

        “Lady Adwan, how are you doing this afternoon?” She asked pleasantly.

        “Edorta,” she snapped irritably. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for you? I’d have called for supper if I wanted it after dark!”

        “My apologies, Lady Adwan, I encountered difficulty getting here,” Edorta replied, setting the tray in Adwan’s lap.

        “Silly girl, lost again? One would think you knew your way around by now!” Adwan chuckled sinisterly to herself. “How long have you lived here?”

        “Most of my life, Lady Adwan, fifteen of my seventeen years,” Edorta answered patiently, reaching behind Adwan to pull out pillows and fluff them.

        “Seventeen years, you say?” asked Adwan, “Are you still unmarried?”

        “Yes, not yet married,” she relied, straightening her skirts and heading for the door. “Do you require anything until supper?” A pillow sailed overhead, flying into the stairwell.