Spurn

Arwen woke up to his brother playfully nudging him awake. The two brothers were of ages 6 and 7. It was the youngest’s birthday today as he turned six today.

“Arwennnn. Wake up. Wake up. Happy birthday!” The eldest, Florence, said eagerly.

“But flurry, I’m tired,” the birthday boy complained.

“Well, I guess-”

The eldest was conveniently cut off by a gentle knock on the door before a polite-looking lady in her mid-twenties opened the door with a folded outfit. Despite her young years, the face she adorned had some wear to it. She was accompanied by a small child, clumsily holding a tray. The two brothers were part of the esteemed Juyu family and, of course, had quite a few servants working around the house.

“Young master,” she greeted before correcting herself to a plural upon seeing the second young boy. This lady’s name was Margerie, and she was a personal servant of Arwen. The young blonde boy helping her was her son. He was around the same age as the two other boys, and they tended to hang out in their free time when neither of their parents was around.

“You must get ready. It’s a big day today. Especially for you,” she said merrily. “Also, I apologize if you find it impolite, but I wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”

Arwen, who had fully woken up at this point in time, gave the woman a smile.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“My pleasure,” the maid responded before turning to her son. He was born into servitude, as was his mother, mother’s mother, father, and so on. The family had been loyal to their employers for years. Whether that was due to unpaid debts or the family’s kindness was unknown.

“Bartholomew, honey, please give him his breakfast before it spoils.”

“Oh! Right, yes mother.” The boy known as Bartholomew placed a silver platter on a small table in the room and uncovered it to reveal an expensive breakfast display. This was followed by the maid laying the clothing out on the bed.

“Your parents have requested that you join them in the dining hall,” the servant boy said as he stumbled a little over the formal dialect.

“Thank you. Please tell them that I will be down soon,” the younger said.

“Have a nice day,” the older soon followed before the two workers left.

“Flurry. Did you really have to wake me up so early?”

“You would have gotten woken up by Mrs. Margie and B anyway. Don’t blame me,” Florence said with a small laugh at his younger brother’s annoyance.

“Well, you need to go. I have to get dressed and then see mom and dad.”

“Fineee. I guess I’ll tell you about your super, extra, secret surprise later,” Florence said before skipping back to his room.

“Wait, surpris-?? Flurry!!”

Arwen let out an annoyed sigh and retrieved his clothing to get dressed. It was a long-sleeved button-up in a dark purple, his favorite color, and black pants along with the other clothing necessities, of course. Once clothed, the young boy made his way down the staircase and to the dining hall to greet his parents. He had a habit of accidentally leaving his breakfast behind. This was a known fact, however, so his parents had already prepared a meal downstairs with everything the child could ever want. All of his favorite food, drink, and colors were set out across the dining room. There in the middle, though

, the young boy saw one of the reasons his birthday was his favorite holiday: The cake. It had on it a fantastic display of quite an odd fascination of the boy, electric eels. They were all hand-sculpted by pastry artists and laid beautifully along the cake’s surface.

“Wow” was the only word the small boy could utter, as the extravagant setups never failed to amaze him.

The boy soon got to think about yet another reason this holiday was his favorite; it was the only day he could eat such things for breakfast as his parents had to work later in the day. They always got the festivities over within the morning.

“Good morning sweetheart,” the young Juyo’s mother said gleefully.

“And happy birthday as well,” Arwen’s father followed.

“Good morning mama! Thank you papa,” Arwen said to match the enthusiasm.

The boy sat in the empty chair at the table. His brother had already gotten ready and taken his seat; the lights dimming so the family could appreciate the glow of candles. Though barely six, the boy knew this part by heart as he hummed quietly to the tune of “Happy Birthday” being sung to him by his family.

Once the melody ended, Arwen smiled and eagerly blew out the candles with all his might.