07-25-2017, 03:34 AM
Erumollien let out a groan as he stretched, finally managing to finish all the plans he'll have to put forward with the Dwarvenking. Standing up, he sorted the papers into a neat pile and hid them in a drawer. He stepped out and saw Beriadan approaching him with an unreadable mask.
"Cousin, you best get to bed."Erumollien raised a brow at Beriadan who scowled, "Now."
The Elvenking shook his head and waved him away. Managing to stay composed even when he felt the nausea rush through him. It was not his nausea, he knew that much. It was his consort's.
"I have to check on my consort first." He stated, "Then there's the meeting with the High Council-" He paused and cursed himself, he had forgotten that today was meant to be a sparring day for him and his cousin as well as a day where he must train his godson in swordplay.
"I'll remove sparring and training from your schedule and you need only tell me what must be done in the meeting later." Beriadan assured his cousin, "Even though my bond with you is that of kinship, you do realise I could feel your exhaustion right?" The older elf had asked, crossing his arms. Erumollien shrugged.
"Knowing my consort won't suffer this? I don't mind if you do." Erumollien cheekily replied, earning him a weak shove from his cousin.
"Honestly, you're like a child." Beriadan muttered.
Erumollien replied with an insult in their tongue before walking off in the direction of where he followed along Tristan's path. He could hear his cousin following him so that assured him that someone can catch him if he succumbs to exhaustion.
"You may be our strongest and finest warrior, a wise king and an emotional friend, Erumollien, but you are not made of stone for you not to realise you're exhausted beyond understanding." Beriadan spoke harshly but with kind intentions, "You must rest!"
Erumollien ignored his cousin and entered the restroom, seeing Tristan there, he sighed, "Morning sickness?" He was certain the Dwarvenking's consort would have given him some of the tea by now but he supposed he can go to the kitchens to brew some of the tea for Tristan.
"Go to bed and rest, I shall be back with some tea and toasted bread for you." Then he shall go to his own chambers and sleep.
From the glare Beriadan was giving him, he best do it as swiftly as possible.
Heading down to the kitchens, he swept in and took a kettle and poured water inside of it, placing it above the fireplace. A bit of rooting about in the kitchen cabinets - and enduring the glares of their cooks due to disrupting their flow in the kitchen - he managed to find the herbs he needed. Requesting two slices of toast from one of the younger cooks, he checked on the kettle and figured it was hot enough to make tea with and poured it into a mug where he'd stored the tea leaves in. Mixing some honey into the tea, he was about to deliver the food to Tristan but was intercepted by a stern-faced Mellimeldisiel and a smug-faced Beriadan.
"You, off to bed. Now." The blonde elleth ordered him, taking the tray from his hands, he was suddenly lifted by his cousin and slung over Beriadan's shoulder.
"I will have my revenge you son-of-an-Orc!" Erumollien growled, he heard his cousin laugh.
"When you are well-rested and decently fed then yes you can avenge your wounded pride." His cousin assured him with a purring voice.
Being thrown into bed was not an ideal way for the Elvenking to fall asleep. But his cousin threw him and he was left glaring at the door before curling up and allowing himself to succumb to sleep.
Mellimeldisiel on the other hand had delivered the promised tea and toast to the consort. Her pale green eyes looking at the younger man with a coldness that she felt for the consort.
Handing him the mug delicately, she noted the writing on it, painted carefully. It was the king's brother's mug. She recalled the late King painting that for his second child's birthday who wished for nothing more than a sturdy mug to drink from than delicate tea cups or ostentatious goblets.
"The king himself brewed the tea for you." She spoke, her voice releasing warmth than the icy tone she normally would have held for the consort. She held no love for him nor had she sworn her fealty to him, but her king wishes to care for him so she shall treat him fairly.
"Drink it, it will help ease the nausea, the toast shall settle your stomach."
"Cousin, you best get to bed."Erumollien raised a brow at Beriadan who scowled, "Now."
The Elvenking shook his head and waved him away. Managing to stay composed even when he felt the nausea rush through him. It was not his nausea, he knew that much. It was his consort's.
"I have to check on my consort first." He stated, "Then there's the meeting with the High Council-" He paused and cursed himself, he had forgotten that today was meant to be a sparring day for him and his cousin as well as a day where he must train his godson in swordplay.
"I'll remove sparring and training from your schedule and you need only tell me what must be done in the meeting later." Beriadan assured his cousin, "Even though my bond with you is that of kinship, you do realise I could feel your exhaustion right?" The older elf had asked, crossing his arms. Erumollien shrugged.
"Knowing my consort won't suffer this? I don't mind if you do." Erumollien cheekily replied, earning him a weak shove from his cousin.
"Honestly, you're like a child." Beriadan muttered.
Erumollien replied with an insult in their tongue before walking off in the direction of where he followed along Tristan's path. He could hear his cousin following him so that assured him that someone can catch him if he succumbs to exhaustion.
"You may be our strongest and finest warrior, a wise king and an emotional friend, Erumollien, but you are not made of stone for you not to realise you're exhausted beyond understanding." Beriadan spoke harshly but with kind intentions, "You must rest!"
Erumollien ignored his cousin and entered the restroom, seeing Tristan there, he sighed, "Morning sickness?" He was certain the Dwarvenking's consort would have given him some of the tea by now but he supposed he can go to the kitchens to brew some of the tea for Tristan.
"Go to bed and rest, I shall be back with some tea and toasted bread for you." Then he shall go to his own chambers and sleep.
From the glare Beriadan was giving him, he best do it as swiftly as possible.
Heading down to the kitchens, he swept in and took a kettle and poured water inside of it, placing it above the fireplace. A bit of rooting about in the kitchen cabinets - and enduring the glares of their cooks due to disrupting their flow in the kitchen - he managed to find the herbs he needed. Requesting two slices of toast from one of the younger cooks, he checked on the kettle and figured it was hot enough to make tea with and poured it into a mug where he'd stored the tea leaves in. Mixing some honey into the tea, he was about to deliver the food to Tristan but was intercepted by a stern-faced Mellimeldisiel and a smug-faced Beriadan.
"You, off to bed. Now." The blonde elleth ordered him, taking the tray from his hands, he was suddenly lifted by his cousin and slung over Beriadan's shoulder.
"I will have my revenge you son-of-an-Orc!" Erumollien growled, he heard his cousin laugh.
"When you are well-rested and decently fed then yes you can avenge your wounded pride." His cousin assured him with a purring voice.
Being thrown into bed was not an ideal way for the Elvenking to fall asleep. But his cousin threw him and he was left glaring at the door before curling up and allowing himself to succumb to sleep.
Mellimeldisiel on the other hand had delivered the promised tea and toast to the consort. Her pale green eyes looking at the younger man with a coldness that she felt for the consort.
Handing him the mug delicately, she noted the writing on it, painted carefully. It was the king's brother's mug. She recalled the late King painting that for his second child's birthday who wished for nothing more than a sturdy mug to drink from than delicate tea cups or ostentatious goblets.
"The king himself brewed the tea for you." She spoke, her voice releasing warmth than the icy tone she normally would have held for the consort. She held no love for him nor had she sworn her fealty to him, but her king wishes to care for him so she shall treat him fairly.
"Drink it, it will help ease the nausea, the toast shall settle your stomach."