The Taste of Strawberries by chrissystriped

The Taste of Strawberries

Melkor took a deep breath when he stepped out of the house, a basket hanging over his arm. He walked down the street and turned left at the bakery, following the directions the baker had given him yesterday. She had known immediately, who he was, and the relief of not being thrown out again, had made him bold enough, to ask her when and where the weekly market was held. They had moved into their new house two days ago and needed fresh food.

There was the bakery close by and a butcher who also sold cheese and eggs, but fresh vegetables and fruit were only sold at the market. Melkor felt a little uneasy, he didn’t want to go alone, but Mablung had rehearsals – and he had noticed that most people didn’t know him by sight, so maybe he was fretting for nothing.

The market was already very busy, vendors advertising their products and people chatting with each other. Melkor mingled with the crowd. A part of him eyed the other buyers warily, but when no one paid particular attention to him he started to relax. His basket became heavy with fruit and vegetables, and other groceries like flour. Now that they didn’t live in Thranduil’s palace anymore, they had to feed themselves and both of them weren’t used to that, Mablung maybe a little more than him.

Melkor let his gaze wander and pondered what else they needed urgently – he realised now that it would take a few market days until their pantry was well stocked – when his eyes came to rest on a booth selling pickled vegetables, preserves and jam. They had eaten scrambled eggs for breakfast the last days, but he knew how much Mablung loved strawberry jam.

“What do you like to eat?” Melkor caught a confused look before the slave lowered his head again. “Herdir?” He was trembling. “That isn’t such a difficult question, is it?”, Melkor said gently and laid his hand on the elf’s hair, playing a little with the brown curls. The boy was still much too thin, the fever from his wounds had sapped all the reserves he'd had. He ate what Melkor fed him or ordered to eat, but Melkor wanted to give him a treat. “Do you have a favourit dish? What flavours do you like?” And maybe it was because they had just breakfasted, why the first thing Mablung said was: “Strawberry jam.”

The soil in the mountains above Angband was meagre, the crops only grew thanks to the fertiliser some of his Maiar had developed, but strawberry plants grew even up there. And Melkor had ensured that from that day there was always a jar of strawberry jam on the breakfast table. (Had Mablung ever guessed that it was only for him?) And when Melkor had kissed him on leaving his rooms every morning, Mablung’s lips had tasted like strawberries. Melkor smiled at the memory and approached the vendor. “Do you have strawberry jam?”, he asked with a smile and she smiled back at him. “Of course! How many jars do you want?”

~*~*~

Mablung kept his eyes closed after waking. He had dreamt so often that Melkor lay beside him and he savoured to wake ever morning to the sound of his breath and the warmth of his skin against his own. Melkor gave him a long, gentle kiss that could have resulted into more easily, but if he didn’t want to be late for rehearsals, they needed to get up.

Melkor went down to make breakfast while Mablung tended to his hair. He wore it plaited for bed so it didn’t tangle too much but it took some time in the morning to make him presentable. He heard the squeak of the coffee mill and smiled. Real coffee. He had bought the beans at a shop close to the theatre square, something special to make it easier to get out of bed.

Melkor stood at the stove, when he came into the kitchen, frying eggs and having an eye on the coffee maker. Mablung hesitated when he saw the jar standing on his plate. The paper label on the lid said ‚Strawberry‘ in a beautiful, flowing script. „I found that at the market.“ Melkor had turned around, beaming at him. „Thank you, Melkor! You are a gem.“ Mablung hurried around the table to kiss him. It wasn’t that he didn’t like scrambled eggs, but he favoured sweet things for breakfast.

Mablung cut two slices of bread and spread them with butter and jam. He closed his eyes with relish when the sweet taste of fruit flooded his mouth. „Good?“, Melkor asked with a laugh at the ecstatic sound he had made. „Mhm“, Mablung answered. „It’s delicious.“ Mablung took another bite and then waited for the coffee and Melkor's eggs to be ready, it would have been rude to not wait. Melkor sad down on the second chair and poured them coffee.

„You know…“ Mablung looked at the piece of garden visible through the terrace door, talking between bites. „I’d like to plant strawberries, we could make our own jam.“ „Have you done that before?“, Melkor asked surprised. „When I was little. And I'm sure, mother can explain how it works.“ Mablung felt strangely excited at the thought and Melkor seemed to feel it.

„I’ll look out for a place where we can buy plants. I’ll ride out today on Mórhuin anyway. There’s a farm nearby, they have a shop for their dairy goods. I didn’t have any room left in my basket yesterday. I’ll keep my eyes open for strawberry plants.“ Mablung reached over the table and kissed him again. Melkor’s hand came to rest on the back of his head and kept him there. „Mmmmh, a strawberry kiss“, Melkor said when he pulled back and licked his lips. Mablung laughed.