Just some words

Elsapatience

I’m not that much of a pessimist. It’s really only something I was thinking of one day, while scrubbing the paving stones in the courtyard. I started by thinking, Why do the paving stones have to be scrubbed when they are constantly trod upon anyway? It is the courtyard after all, a partially enclosed section of the garden, and not a place in dire need of cleanliness. Scrubbing made my knees, my back, my hands all ache. There you see plainly the good against evil. It only evolved from there.
Apparently there is some gossip threading its way throughout the Great House. Undoubtedly, it started with Lady Verna (the most notorious of gossipers) and from there thread it’s way down to the bottom of the line, to us lowly servants. I was most likely the last one to hear it, and I had no one to pass it on to.
The gossip had to do with the King’s long waiting for an heir. When he and his wife despaired of producing a son, and feared marrying their daughter to a man outside the bloodline, the king began to search for the next in line. Supposedly, the position fell upon the king’s second eldest nephew-- son of his younger brother, Duke Elderberry. The eldest son of the Duke had gone into the church, and therefore was not eligible for er... heir hood. The second eldest boy was called Albir Elderberry, but now I suppose is referred to as Prince Albir, The Heir of King Gerald of the Kingdom Vistle. What a handsomely pompous title.
I heard all this from Thera, who is not always the most reliable source, and doubting its truth, asked Cook for assertion. So it is true, the King has found an heir, and the Royals can all let out their breaths in relief.

More gossip… that’s all that keeps the long monotonous days interesting. I heard it straight from Cook, and is thus perfectly reliable. Apparently Prince Albir, Heir of King Gerald of the Kingdom Vistle, Son of the Duke Elderberry, preceeding as Governor of the Province Farwood, is coming for a visit. Well, it shan’t be just a visit, for he is to be king someday, and must learn all of that royal nonesense. You know, all about ruling and drat. We’ll see if the boy lasts a day before trying to escape.



Albir Elderberry of Farwood

Hmph. Hear we are, second day of our journey to the royal palace. It is raining harder than yesterday, and the horses are all knee-deep in muck. The roads here are atrocious... they've been properly washed away with the constant wet. So now, it takes twice as long to make headway, and that knight, my uncle’s escort, says it will take another day to reach the Great House. Rats. The riding clothes that I’ve never worn before, along with the heavy wool cloak Mother made me wear, are all soaked and clinging to my skin. The cap that is too small is inadequate for keeping the heavy drops that especially fall from the leaves above, from running down my nose.
Hmph. Mother always says I complain too much. But she would too, in my situation. Father still hasn’t completely explained why we are on this ridiculous journey, why we are visiting my uncle and why there is a knight as our escort. I’m having a very funny feeling from all of this, and I really don’t like it. Thankfully, the bothersome rain that keeps falling on my face keeps me from thinking too much of it. Blessing in desguise. I wonder if someone will be able to get a fire started tonight, or if we’ll all have to hunch and huddle in our blankets to keep from freezing all night. Oh boundless joy.

Elsapatience of the Great House

Prince Albir, with his father and heralds and knightly escorts, and all his bloody servants and followers arrived this afternoon, a whole week late! Duke Elderberry explained that the roads washed out and greatly delayed their journey. Good lord! He has such a loud, whiny voice that gets higher and higher the more he goes on. I got to hear his complaints from the top of the second staircase past the great hall. Indeed, it is probable that everyone heard the fool, he was so horridly loud.

Cook told me the funniest thing this evening when I helped to prepare dinner. Cook says that Prince Albir doesn't even know that he is to be king! It just makes me laugh to think. What a shock he will have when they finally decide to tell him! The funniest thing is that he hasn't (as far as Cook knows) figured any of it out for himself! The originality of his great title fits the cleverness of his mind, I suppose. What a king he will be.
I for one would have guessed right away with all the to-do that's been going on for weeks that someone had big plans for me. And I would be jolly glad to get away as soon as possible. If I were that stupid, snooty prince I would get as far away as I could. But I suppose he wouldn't have the brains for that escape, either.
If I were Prince Albir, no one would make plans for me except myself.

Albir Elderberry of Farwood

I have a bad feeling. A very bad feeling. But why should I be considered? I am not next in line... am I? I can't possibly be the closest of bloodline, the king's second and least talented nephew. Doesn't he know how unsuitable I am? How untalented and careless? Surely not. And all these years I thought I was safe. I thought with all my poor abilities how surely I would be safe from any title other than nephew of the king. It... simply baffles the mind.
Hasn't quite sunk in yet.