A continuation of my ongoing Ballroom Project series, a work in progress.
The wedding will be over by now; the festivities brought to a raucous end; debris strewn across the palatial halls of Albalia's home; her noble guests sleeping off the excesses of the revelry that has taken place over the weekend. Guenneth is relieved that she wasn't compelled into service for the wedding – she has had to be present at many a gathering like it in the past, and the mess those fine people can leave in their wake! She shudders to think of it.
She breathes a sigh of contentment as she steps out into her little garden and sees the flowers, the vegetables, the fruit trees she has so lovingly cultivated over the last year. How they have progressed since she first sowed them. She will be sad to say goodbye to her beloved patch of land for another few days, but she will take heart from the progress she and Josliehn have wrought over the last few days.
That girl ... Guenneth frowns as she bends over a patch of weeds and sets to pulling each one from the ground. This weekend, she did spend more time than Guenneth would have liked moping, crying, weeping, telling Guenneth – once again – of her great misfortune. But Guenneth wouldn't tolerate too much of that. She is not inclined to indulge self-pity. She put Josliehn to work, told her she was to assist her in the garden, cautioned her on the value of taking pride in one's work and the dangers of idleness: how it leaves one with too much time to think and wallow and get lost in one's woes. Nothing ever comes easily – not to members of their class.
She has a gruff manner of speaking – she knows that – and she is well aware that Josliehn and the other girls who turn to her for advice often resent her for it. But she has her reasons to worry, to chide the girls along if she sees them becoming too melancholy.
It would cut her heart to the quick if she had to watch Josliehn be dragged into the same pit of despair – of utter hopelessness – that she herself once fell into.
Enough with such thoughts. Guenneth reaches for her trusty, soil-crusted apron and slips into her familiar morning routine, filling pails with fresh water from the well beside her door – the well so kindly maintained for her by a neighbour whenever she is away from home. It has been full all weekend because of his assiduous care, much to Guenneth's delight. She will certainly make an effort, when she is back in Orsthai, to get some gifts for him and his family. She will find a way to thank him for his kindness.
She waters the plants that need it, checks that everything is in its place. The pumpkins and marrow, she can see, are smaller than she would like for this time of year. They will need some more care when she next comes back, but for now they will survive. She sighs a little sadly as she turns away from them.
Back to Orsthai. Back to Albalia and Pallias and whatever political intrigues are about to consume them both this week. The wedding, no doubt, was good for the family – good for their public image and their standing with the citizenry. They will have generated great goodwill among the merchant classes and the Gastaia clan. But Guenneth is sure the old animosities will soon return, if they haven't already. Fresh plots will stir, conflicts will erupt, Pallias will do or say something to offend.
No matter. Come what may, Guenneth will say stay silent and keep her counsel – as she always does – and try to steer the younger servants away form trouble in as much as she can.
Speaking of trouble... where is Josliehn? She calls into the house and peers inside, watching the girl stir sleepily from the makeshift bed Guenneth set up for her by the hearth.
A response to the freewrite prompt it's not as easy as it looks.