Harmindon's Finest

Chapter 33 - Going Home

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Miarka whimpered as she caught sight of the feast set before her, one step away from properly rubbing her eyes in amazement.

Placed in front of her was juicy roast chicken with the crispy skin removed and beautifully cooked duck, swimming in Umbaran orange sauce and studded with cloves. Small side dishes of carrots boiled with sugar so they were smoothly caramelised, and tiny green peas topped with mint leaves were set either side of the main plate. The plate itself was a dainty white ceramic with chains of blue flowers painted along the side, glazed hard with no chips or stains. The silverware was just as dainty, and so highly polished they rested on their own floded napkin embroidered with the same blue flowers as were on the plates. Tall, stemmed glasses were filled with water so cold condensation gathered on the outside, and a beautiful centrepiece of flowers and candles dominated the middle of the table, which was perfectly circular and made of some heavy dark wood covered by a lacy tablecloth.

I was impressed myself as I took my place, Miarka one side and Malbeth the other.

"Jeddah, am I in heaven?" Miarka whispered, tugging at my sleeve.

I understood her amazement, not only because she'd spent most of her life hungry and surrounded by friends who had enough to eat. She was the one who, when Grandmother came home from the market with weedy little vegetables, rough grain and oil, the weekly bag of rice and - if I'd managed to scrape enough money - an egg or two, with a handful of herbs, would cook this motley selection into a meal of varying degrees of edibility. She was not a brilliant cook by any means, but that was mostly because she was hindered by my constant strict rationing.

So when she saw this meal before her,  this meal from her dreams filled with hunger pains, fit for a queen, it was hardly right to blame her for her disbelief.

"Take your time, now, don't overdo it and don't make yourself sick," I warned, but Miarka seemed determined to savour every single mouthful, the way she closed her eyes and gave a sigh of happiness as she chewed slowly on her forkful of duck in Umbaran orange.

"What's the verdict then?" Lady Eafine said softly, in her hesitating way, and I looked up. They were all looking at us, Lord Medlithor and Lady Earine and my Malbeth and his two sisters, pretty but giggling behind cupped hands - more at Malbeth than me, I surmised.

"You may think I exaggerate," I began seriously, "But Miarka asks if she is in heaven. She has never in her life had food like this, in either quantity or quality."

"I'm glad she likes it," Earine said stiffly, and for a while nobody spoke as we ate.

Malbeth nudged me and whispered.

"You say that about Miarka, but what about you?" His worried face was so endearing I nearly laughed.

"Of course I've had a dinner like this, I was Lady Túrien's guest at that unforgettable Harvest Feast, remember?"

"You were Lady Túrien's guest?" One of the sisters asked curiously. I evidently hadn't spoken quietly enough.

"Well, she invited a lot of Haradrim -"

"She got a personal invitation," Malbeth interjected hurriedly.

"What did you do to get a personal invitation?"

"Morwen, leave her-"

"She asked me to make her a new gown and asked me at one of the fittings," I cut him off swiftly.

"Lady Túrien asked you to make her a new dress? I thought Malbeth made that up," the one called Morwen said, ignoring her brother's angry, protective looks and her dinner, looking at me properly.