This was written as a challenge from Bulma Greenleaf, who gave me three titles and I chose this one.
I don't own the characters. I own the depressing story I put them in.
Your dinner is served.
Legolas and Gimli eyed each other warily from opposite sides of the campfire.
Look at him, thought Gimli, narrowing his eyes at the elf, that pretty boy, never has anything interesting to say. What an elf is doing on a quest like this I honestly cannot comprehend.
A dwarf? Thought Legolas. Dwarves are so useless! All he's done so far is try to be funny and smoke. He's too short, and has too much to say. What a dwarf is doing on such an important mission as this one might be the toughest question I've faced yet. He's only going to hinder us!
"And to think I volunteered for this," both muttered in unison.
"I beg your pardon?" Legolas asked, 'politely', "I didn't catch that."
"Oh, nothing... nothing. So... about this dinner..."
Legolas and Gimli had been put in charge of cooking that night's dinner for the Fellowship. Then, Aragorn had decided to scout ahead, Boromir was giving Merry and Pippin their fighting lesson with Sam watching, and Gandalf had pulled Frodo aside to discuss something with him.
And now Gimli and Legolas faced each other, wondering what on Middle Earth Gandalf was thinking when he put them in charge.
"Yes, dinner," agreed Legolas, glad that they had, at least, gotten off to a civil start. He felt that some light conversation could loosen the tension a bit. So, "I feel rather hungry," he remarked.
Gimli ignored him. "Look, elf, I don't like you and you don't like me. So let's get this dinner thing done as quick as possible – with as little communication as possible."
Legolas rolled his eyes. Trust Gimli to puncture Legolas' little attempt at civilised conversation.
"Fine," replied Legolas, "how about you cut the vegetables and I'll boil the water. Then you can cut up the bread while I make the stew."
Gimli considered Legolas' suggestion. "How come I do all the cutting?"
"Then I'll cut! But we have to hurry. Daylight's fading fast."
"Daylight's fading fast! We must hurry!" Gimli mocked under his breath.
"What was that?" asked Legolas, frowning at Gimli.
Gimli glared. Damn him and his elf ears. "Start chopping, elf!"
Legolas obliged, and started cutting up carrots in a slow and methodical way. "You should set the pot down and take a few turns at getting all the water. You wouldn't be able to life it after it's full!"
Gimli, though, ignored the advice and took the stew pot to the nearest stream and filled it up with water. Then he was faced with a problem. The pot was half his size, and it was impossibly heavy with all the water inside it. Gimli growled and cursed, trying to lift it up by the handle, but it would not budge. Finally he sat on the riverbed and panted, wondering how in the name of Eru was he going to carry the whole thing back without any help.
"Gimli, are you alright with that?"
Oh curse it! That was Legolas! Gimli frantically tugged at the handle of the pot, but to no avail.
"Gimli?"
His voice was getting closer! Gimli cleared his throat. "Um, yes, I am doing quite well, how about you get back to your cutting?"
"Oh, I have finished already. Now we just need the water..." Legolas walked past the line of trees to where Gimli sat. He smiled with triumph. The dwarf was useless.
"Now, now, Gimli, you should have asked for some help!" Legolas said, with the air of someone scolding a five-year-old child (elfling), "But, now that I think of it, if you had taken my advice in the first place, you would not be in this position at all."
Gimli continued to glare.
Legolas sighed, walked over to the pot and lifted it up.
"What are you doing?" Gimli asked, still glaring, though he inwardly admired the way Legolas could life something so heavy in such a casual manner.
"We need our dinner, Master Dwarf," Legolas replied sweetly, "we cannot be expected to walk on an empty stomach!"
Gimli followed Legolas back to the campsite, grumbling all the way. Now his image was ruined; he had managed to look like a weakling in from of Legolas. Prince Legolas, Royal Highness of Mirkwood Forest... he thought sarcastically. He didn't dare say anything aloud this time, as Legolas would surely pick it up on his hearing radar. But now he could look forward to being humiliated by the rest of the Fellowship as well, not to mention the elves Legolas would tell when the journey ends, nor the name of Dwarves he would have put to shame. It was hopeless.
He continued to fret all evening, when he cut up the bread and added salt to the stew. And all evening Legolas was smiling quite contentedly, and Gimli dreaded what would happen when the others asked about the dinner, as he was sure they would.
Sure enough, after Legolas had proudly announced, "Your dinner is served," as the Fellowship sat around that campfire spooning stew into their mouths, as Gimli noticed that everyone was nodding their heads in appreciation at the unusually good standard of cooking, Pippin commented, "this is very nice stew! Maybe even better than Sam's!"
Sam glared at him, and Gandalf inquired, "I didn't know that you two had such a talent in cooking."
Here we go, thought Gimli, thoroughly depressed now, as Legolas opened his mouth to answer.
"Oh, neither did we," replied Legolas, smiling, "But we found that together we make a pretty good team. Isn't that right, Gimli?"
Gimli was stunned. He had expected Legolas to tell everyone about how he had made a fool of himself. "Um, yes, of course," came out of Gimli's mouth as an answer and everyone went back to their stew. Maybe the Elf is trying to be nice, Gimli pondered, but then Legolas winked at him almost conspiratorially he considered, but now I owe him, and his eyes narrowed once again. Like I could ever be friends with him...
THE END
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