Súlimëo Quentar: March Stories by Elleth

Sugar Rush

The continuing adventures of Makalaurë's sweet tooth. Or: Estelindë tries to babysit. More elfling fluff. A drabble according to Open Office.

"It is far too sweet. Makalaurë, are you seeking to ruin your teeth?"

The little one grins at the healer, unconcerned, and she can feel her eyebrow climbing in response. There is less tea than honey in his cup. How he can drink it, and look so happy – a mystery. The thought of sweetened tea gags her; Estelindë admits rare weakness, shuddering.

"Without honey, it tastes and smells like grass," he chirps, laughing. "And that's for cows."

Nerdanel, come home quickly, Estelindë implores with an eyeroll. Before the sugar rush begins. Perhaps together we can tame your wayward minstrel.

Chapter End Notes

Written for the following prompts:

N38: Smells: Grass; Write What You Know: A food you dislike