Forever Green

~ 17 ~ Cup and Kettle

Kettle was not happy.

"You've given up," she snapped at Lenesa early that morning, before Theiden had awoken. In the early predawn light, Lenesa was stirring the rice porridge that would become breakfast for herself and Theiden, while Kettle sat on the shelf overhead, leaning against the teapot that served as her bed.

"I have not," Lenesa contested.  "I just want to prepare him, should something happen that's out of my control.  You saw what happened when I defended myself against the Turned faun."

"Have more faith in yourself," Kettle replied.  "Just make sure it never happens again."  She made it sound so simple.

"I wouldn't do it on purpose," Lenesa said. "Do you think any of them wanted to end up like that?" She brought the wooden spoon up to taste how the congee was coming along.

"Audeste did," was Kettle's flat answer. Lenesa grimaced—both at the tomte's answer and the rice porridge. It was too hot.

"She felt like it was the only option left," Lenesa said. "She had been angry."

"Defending her?  That's gracious of you, no matter how close you once were.  Her decision and the horrors she caused will haunt her for the rest of her short life. You'd better make sure that man doesn't try to kill you once you've taught him all he needs to know, or you might turn out just the same."

When Lenesa failed to respond, Kettle pulled her feet up from the edge of the shelf and stood. "I'm going to sleep. Good day."

Lenesa only looked up after the soft clink of the teapot lid sliding into place signified Kettle's leave. With a quiet sigh, she reached up and gently closed the cupboard door.

It wasn't long before a creak from the loft notified her that Theiden was awake. Still groggy from sleep, he stumbled down the ladder and missed the last rung, only just catching himself before he fell.

Lenesa stood and took two bowls from the cupboard next to Kettle's. "Breakfast's ready," she announced. Her tone was dulled after the grim conversation with Kettle, but Theiden didn't seem to have noticed. Instead, he grunted a reply and ran a hand through his already-disheveled hair.

"Smells good," he finally said, before plopping into a chair.

Lenesa took the pastry twists that had been cooling on a rack onto a larger serving plate and ladled out the congee in equal portions. "We're a bit low on food," she explained. "There's not much else besides this."

"This looks good," Theiden said. The praise warmed her—but when she turned to face him, his gaze was distant.

"Are you all right?" Lenesa crossed to the other side of the kitchen, where she had set out an assortment of dried fruit in glass jars on the counter.  Starting from the left, she began pouring a little of the contents from each container into the two bowls of rice porridge. As she did so, the oranges, purples, and reds of the fruit glinted like jewels as they shifted against the backdrop of light streaming through the kitchen window.

"I'm just a little tired," Theiden replied after a moment.  Lenesa turned to study the dark circles under his eyes and the way his shoulders sagged forward with fatigue.

"You got enough sleep, didn't you?" she asked. Maybe the mandrake root was starting to get old.  She'd have to ask Kettle to replace it later.

Theiden pulled a hand through his hair once more. "I'm just a bit uneasy, being away from home for so long," he said, looking up to shoot her a glare. "No thanks to you."

"You were the one who went looking for me," she reminded him. She set the two bowls of congee on the dining table with a bit more force than necessary.