A/N: I just don't know. I have no idea where this came from, but I'm guessing somewhere between watching the 'Will It Blend?' videos for several hours and aspiring to attempt a 'humorous' story. So don't kill me for OOC-ness. There also appears to be electricity in Rivendell. (Don't ask me how) And no, I don't own these characters; I just like to mess with them in Tolkien's wonderful world. Reviews, thoughts, comments, etc. appreciated as always!
~Earial
Erestor sighed wearily, rubbing a slender, ink-stained hand across his forehead, leaving a dark smear on his pale brow. The day could hardly get worse. A delegation from Lothlorien was due to arrive tomorrow, several important essays needed to be finished before then, the House prepared, the Council addressed, the twins' lessons taught, and numerous other duties laid upon the stressed advisor.
A mischievous elf-lord looking for some fun certainly didn't help either.
"Oh, Ereesstoor..." A lilting voice called, as Glorfindel waltzed into the library where the requested elf was situated.
"Go away, Glorfindel, I'm busy." Erestor replied shortly, shuffling papers on his small desk.
Unfazed by clearly being rebuffed, the golden-haired elf grinned cheekily and seated himself next to the other.
"What'cha working on?" He questioned innocently, sidling closer as Erestor shifted away in annoyance.
"Important things that need to be completed today, and can't be finished with a clingy, immature elf-lord getting in my way." The dark-haired elf returned, his temper wearing thin as the famous Balrog slayer wreaked havoc on his best feather quills.
"More important than me?" Said slayer pouted, lifting imploring blue orbs to gaze reproachfully at his friend.
Erestor sighed again, detesting how easily the elf was able to get under his admittedly thin skin. "No, no of course not." He lied through clenched teeth, forcefully containing himself from smacking the pleased face next to him.
Glorfindel smirked and tossed his golden head, his long tresses contriving to successfully deposit half of the various papers on the floor.
"Contain your hair, please." The advisor grated out, his own relatively short (for an elf) midnight locks swaying indignantly as he bent down to retrieve the documents.
"What do you want from me?" He asked at length, resigning himself to the inevitable when his personal full-size paperweight showed no intention of leaving him in peace.
The fair elvish forehead wrinkled. "I can't remember, but I have a feeling that I was supposed to tell you something concerning the food and the guests tomorrow. Do you think that's consequential?"
"Just a little." Erestor returned, slathering his speech with sarcasm as generously as Elladan did butter on bread.
At that moment, a servant peered through the doorway. "Lord Erestor, your presence was requested in the kitchen nigh on three quarters of an hour ago."
"I remember now!" Glorfindel exclaimed happily, while the harried advisor hurriedly swept up his papers and simultaneously shot a glare at the irrepressible blonde.
"My apologies, I shall be there shortly." He stated, rushing out of the room before his companion decided to follow. Even the hot and tiresome kitchen was better than Glorfindel when he was feeling frolicsome.
That didn't mean the food preparatory department or its staff would be easy to deal with, either.
"Erestor, I asked you to come here some time ago; where in Arda were you?" The cook demanded peevishly, purposefully dropping the various titles generally associated with that elf's name.
"Fending off dreaded foes; now what do you wish of me?"
"A new kitchen product from some traders came that you are required to inspect before any of the Imladris elves can make use of it. It is truly a wonder and saves precious time when preparing food." She replied, nodding at a strange black contraption on the counter.
"What is this peculiar device and what does it do?" Erestor queried, peering at his reflection in the shiny plastic as he tentatively poked the cylindrical object.
"Well, it chops up things. Look," Here she grabbed an unfortunate green pepper lying nearby, placed it in the glass jar, fastened a matching black lid on top, and then pressed a button.
Immediately, a harsh rasp filled the air as gleaming silver blades began to whirl, causing the shocked advisor to hastily jump away.
"What did you do? What is this devilry you've brought upon us?" He shrieked at the cook over the whining of the machine.
"It's progress!" She yelled back defiantly. "This will revolutionize our food industry!" She pressed the button again and the noise mercifully ceased, allowing the cringing elf to take his fingers from his ears.
The cook proudly dumped what was once a vegetable onto a plate, shoving the green glob of mush at the bewildered elf. "That's food? I wouldn't feed that to a dog!"
If there was one thing Erestor hated more than being interrupted in the middle of an important paper, it was dogs.
"It saves time; we'll never have to chop, slice, or cut up anything again!" The cook insisted, swirling the mutilated gunk around, in no way helping to alleviate the queasiness already threatening the advisor's stomach. "The guests will love to have this tomorrow."
Erestor almost had a hernia as he imagined the various visiting dignitaries being forced to eat the colorful globs of produce. He would never be able to show his face anywhere again.
"No." He stated firmly, standing and brushing off his indigo robes in protest. "No, and that's final."
"But Glorfindel liked it, he thought…" The cook started, before realizing the lack of foresight in bringing that particular elf-lord's name into the conversation.
A thin back stiffened as Erestor slowly turned around, eyeing the machine with a sudden newfound interest. "It can chop up anything, you say?" He asked, a wicked grin crossing his delicate features.
Lord Elrond exhaled deeply, enjoying the beauty around him as he walked through CelebrÃan's carefully tended gardens.
It was a gorgeous spring day in the Valley of Rivers; the murmuring of soft elven voices, the brooks chattering, and other household sounds flowed together to create a harmony sweeter to the lord than any other.
In the midst of this perfect tranquility, the peace was broken by a glee-filled call originating from the House that sounded eerily similar to his chief advisor's.
"Glooorrfiindeeel, come try my new hair cutting machine! I call it: the Blender!"
A terrified scream cut through air soon followed by a cheerful exclamation.
"It blends!"