1. Eowyn's Contribution
Oh no. She saw me. Legolas masked his apprehension and turned. His slight smile was hard to retain when his suspicions were realized: Eowyn was, indeed, the one who was ... scenting the camp with her ... aromatic stew. "Can I aid you in some way?" he asked politely, hoping that if he ignored the fact that she was carrying bowls, spoons and a pot of overcooked potatoes and stringy meat that she would assume he wasn't hungry. It wasn't hard to act like he wasn't hungry: the smell of her stew was enough to take away a starving man's appetite.
"I made some stew for the men-folks. I thought it was the best I could do right now." Eowyn's eyes were hopeful.
"Have they all had enough?" Legolas stalled. Her right hand kept straying to the bowls.
Eowyn seemed slightly disappointed. "They, ah ... all seemed to have eaten before I got to them. Have you eaten?" - quickly.
How he wished he could say he had! "No, not yet. I haven't been hungry." And especially not after smelling that.
Eowyn tried to smile. "I know it isn't much ... "
I should. But how in the world am I going to choke it down? I've never been sick a day in my life ... well, maybe once or twice ... but this would most certainly make me sick.
I am an Elf. Nothing can make me sick. Or should be able to, anyway.
Try some of that. Let's see.
He took an invisible deep breath and put on a smile. "Pour me a bowl, m'lady."
She lit up like a candle. She almost spilled it over her fingers in her eagerness. Spill a little more, Eowyn. No really, go ahead.
When she handed it over eagerly, Legolas carefully tipped some over the side while she pulled out a spoon. Taking it, he flashed her a broad smile before dipping the spoon into the stew that looked and smelled worse up close. He took a cautious sip. It was just as bad as he'd thought. He attempted to channel the almost impossible emotion of 'this is good!' into his voice, which wanted to say 'what is this disgusting mess!' "Valar!"
"Is ... is it all right?"
Legolas decided a little deception was in order. He took another sip. With it in his mouth, he said in a bright voice, "This is(n't) good." He hoped the 'n't' would go unnoticed.
"Do you think -- do you think Lord Aragorn would like some?"
Legolas almost swallowed some. Good heavens. What an idea!! "I think he'd love some."
"Really?" Eowyn almost flew down the path on wings of euphoria.
Legolas waited until she was out of sight and earshot before spewing out the stew he had put in his mouth and hidden under his tongue and in his cheeks. Working up spit and cleaning out his mouth, Legolas regarded the bowl of stew. He considered pouring it out, but wondered how else he could use it.
Gimli came stumping along past him. " 'ello lad," he grunted.
Legolas smirked. "Good to see you," he said neutrally. When the Dwarf was farther down the path, he hurled the spoon, the bowl, and the contents thereof in Gimli's direction.
When Gimli, incensed, turned around, Legolas was nowhere to be seen.
Meanwhile, hidden behind a tent, an Elf snickered.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.