The clock struck noon, the bell ringing across the Woodland realm for all the workers to here. It was lunch-time.
But Thranduil couldn't eat. He couldn't sleep, eat, or sit still for very long without feeling nervous and anxious. Pacing across the floor, he could've sworn he heard his mother call out 'You're going to wear out the wood, you know?' as he thought of his last moments with you.
Elves were like Dwarves in one way, they only loved once, and if they chose to not be with their destined one, they pass to the Sundering Seas out of grievance,
The chime of the clock brought Thranduil out of his endless thoughts, his icy blue eyes snapping over to the window. Slowly his feet guided him to the window sill. "Where have you gone, my mystery love?" He questioned out loud, pain in his voice over his grief of not finding you.
.
"(Y/n)!"
"(Y/n)!"
"(Y/n)!"
"(Y/n)!"
"(Y/n)!"
"(Y/n)!"
You never thought you'd get tired of hearing your own name, after all, it was preferred over 'wench,' 'brat,' 'ungrateful child,' 'nuisance.' But still, this was too much.
"(Y/n)," This time it was your stepmother calling you. "Yes, stepmother?" You questioned, minding your manners despite your annoyance. "Here is a list of chores for you to do." She stated, thrusting a piece of parchment at you before strutting away, a grin on her face.
Raising a brow at her odd behavior, you slowly brought your eyes to the thin parchment.
'Clean the following:
Kitchen
Seating Area
All the Laundry
Feed all the Animals
Scrub the Stables'
"Scrub the stables?" You mumbled to yourself in confusion, she had hired workers who took care of all the animals and the stables, so why now would she decide to make you do it?
Your shoulders slumped as you made your way to completing the list, wondering when you'd ever get a break from all the yelling and scrubbing.
As you made your way to the back of the house, you missed the sound of the carriage rolling in, Lord Himeldir sitting inside the closed doors as he looked over your father's home.
"This is the last household, Lord Himeldir," The coachman announced, pulling to a stop right at the front door. "Hopefully it'll fit one of these ladies," Himeldir sighed, stretching his back before stepping out of the carriage.
The home appeared to be beautiful but saddened. Himeldir imagined what it must've looked like before, with vibrant light coming from the windows, the smell of a homecooked meal wafting through the door as the lady of the house welcomed their guests. But now, the lights were dim, the only smell leaving the house is the smell of soap and face powder.
Scrubbing the stalls, you leaned up to wipe the sweat off your forehead. The sun was bright and shining, the heat rays beating down your back and bringing your face to a flush as you worked. "(Y/n), you need to clean the inside too," Your stepmother reminded you before heading inside in a hurry, for once.
Raising a brow, you rolled your eyes as you threw the sponge in the wooden bucket, hoisting it up to drag inside the stall.
The stall was clean, impeccable really. However, your stepmother would always see flaws were there weren't.
