Carrying the empty pitcher, Averyll hurried down the hallway in search of the kitchen. She wasn’t entirely sure in which direction it lay, but figured that she had to find it eventually. If not, she was bound to run into a chambermaid or a guard at some point. She could ask directions.
Coming to the stairs at the end of the hallway, she decided to go down. In most of the houses at home in Dol Amroth, the servants’ quarters and the kitchen were usually located on the lower floors. Surely, Minas Tirith would be no different. It was a narrow stair, the landings lined with doors. She had, indeed, found the servants’ quarters, she discovered, as a young woman in a maid’s cap popped her head out of one of the doors. Seeing Averyll, she came out and bobbed a quick curtsy.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” she said. “These are the servants’ quarters. You shouldn’t be down here.”
Averyll smiled pleasantly, holding up the empty pitcher. “I was looking for the kitchen.”
The maid smiled in return. “Oh! I’ll take that. The kitchen is back in the other direction.” She reached out for the pitcher.
Averyll gave it to her, but rather than returning back up the stairs, she hesitated. “ I was wondering if you could show me the way to the kitchen, anyway?” she asked. “In case I might want something later.”
The maid continued smiling. “Oh, you don’t need to go to the kitchen yourself. If you need anything, you can ring for it.” She curtsied again and looked at Averyll expectantly, obviously waiting for her to return back upstairs. Averyll shrugged and took a step back up toward the guest residences. Well, that was a roaring success, she thought to herself. Maybe I should try talking to some of the servants we brought with us from Dol Amroth. They might have heard something. She decided to change her approach.
“Does Diorwyn have her quarters here somewhere?” she asked, raising her arm to show where a thread had come loose in the hem of her sleeve. She gave the chambermaid a friendly grimace. “I’m not only lost, but in need of repair as well.”
The chambermaid turned and pointed to a door on the next landing. Averyll thanked her and continued on down the stairs to the seamstress’ door, feeling the eyes of the chambermaid between her shoulder blades the entire way. She knocked, then turned and looked back up toward the maid. “Thank you!” she called back to her and waved. The chambermaid curtsied yet again and disappeared up the stairs, carrying Averyll’s empty pitcher.
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