Them Eat Cake"
Chapter One (of, I think, three. Not entirely sure, though.)
Rated: PG, general wackiness and chaos.
Summary: With the cheese wheel craziness still fresh on their minds,
the victim of "Here Cometh the Cheese" -- Estel -- plans a nasty
revenge on his brothers, father and Legolas. Unfortunately for him,
things never go as planned.
Disclaimers: Bet you're waiting for a patented Kellen wacky intro or
an inane disclaimer.
*twiddles thumbs, whistles "A Pirates Life for Me."*
Don't own 'em. *winks*
Cake was a beautiful thing. Estel regarded the wondrous sight on the
table before him. The creamy frosting was thick, spread generously
over the cake. The cook had somehow managed to create leaves of
frosting spilling from the center of the cake and wrapping around the
sides. Estel could just imagine the spicy-sweet taste of the ground
root used for the flavor. He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining
the sweet, milky taste of the frosting. His mouth watered, and, as he
opened his eyes, he sighed.
Cook was quick to smack his shoulder with his big wooden spoon. "Not
for you, Estel."
Estel turned to face Cook, rubbing his shoulder. Cook had yet to be
forgiven for starting the cheese wheel fiasco. In Estel's eyes, Cook
took most of the blame, though it had been Elladan, Elrohir, Legolas
and even Elrond to perpetuate the prank. "It's never for me," he
stated. "I get scraps."
Cook rolled his eyes. "You are a son of Elrond, grown by human
standards. Even if we did feed you scraps, you have the tools
necessary to survive on your own." Cook paused. "Most of the tools
Estel raised an eyebrow. "Most?"
Cook just shook his head.
"Oh, no. You are not starting this, Cook. Most tools necessary? What
do you mean? What don't I have?"
"My dear lord Estel, you were hunting a cheese wheel, thinking it had
killed Fiwen. A cheese wheel, m'lord."
Estel bit his lip. "What do you imply?"
Cook's lips quirked. Estel narrowed his eyes. The elf was having too
much fun with this. By all rights, Estel should have just turned and
But, no. He had to stick around, prying an insult out of an elf
lifetimes his senior. Estel had the feeling that Cook would he lacked
the very thing Estel himself was beginning to wonder about.
"One must have a certain amount of intelligence in order to survive
on one's own."
There it was. Estel groaned, having to give Cook credit. Not only did
he just insult a son of Elrond, but said son of Elrond couldn't even
refute him. Estel had been the one to hunt cheese. He'd been the one
to pry insults out of Cook instead of just leaving. "Point taken,
Cook," Estel muttered.
Cook just grinned. "Now, out, Master Estel. I have work to do."
Estel rolled his eyes. "I was leaving anyway." Not the best
rejoinder, but after that episode, he was afraid anything he'd say,
Cook could twist and change into the best witty remark, and Estel
would be left floundering for rejoinders. "I don't know why I come
down here, Cook. I really don't."
"Like I said," Cook stated wisely as he put a few finishing touches
on the cake's decoration, "intelligence is a highly valued commodity."
Estel walked out the door, shaking his head. "I believe I've been
insulted again," he muttered. He waited until he knew he was out of
earshot of the elf -- which took a good amount of walking -- and
started talking. "It happens every time. Every time."
"I'm sorry, m'lord. I didn't quite catch that."
Estel looked up, and immediately winced. The dark-haired she-Elf in
front of him frowned prettily, waiting for his response. She still
had streaks of bright purple in her hair. Had all gone well before,
Elrohir would have been the one with purple, and the whole cheese
incident would not have happened. Fiwen had been in the way. She bore
part of the blame for Estel's humiliation.
He had a plan.
"Fiwen, I need you to do something for me."
The poor she-Elf immediately looked frightened. "No, Estel. No."
Estel nodded. "The humiliation is over, Fiwen. Revenge is about to
Fiwen looked sick. "I will not be a party to this."
"You were to the last one."
She shook her head. "Not again, Estel. Please."
"Follow me, Fiwen."
She did so, relunctantly. The son of Elrond had spoken.
It's short; it's not funny yet and there are a few grammatical errors
that I couldn't fix, no matter how I tried. Weird, but...
Oh, and blame. Bill the Pony (of course, she spawned the original)
and Saber, for giving me such a mental image that it spawned this
story!! Saber -- you're insane. Thank you.