And the madness continues!!!
Disclaimer: I. Own. Nothing. Duh.
Achoo!
Chapter the Sixth: Food fight!!
"Mellon, what is the time?" Éowyn groaned, and rolled over. They had both slept on the floor, which had consequently covered them in mud, wet clothing, food, and feathers.
Éowyn mumbled something. "Hm?"
"I think it's probably breakfast time," Éowyn muttered, sitting up and rubbing her eyes against the sun. Arwen was searching through the wardrobe, in search of something. She stopped, and grabbed something. She surveyed Éowyn with a critical eye. "You can hardly wear that to breakfast. Father will have a fit," Éowyn looked down ruefully at her mud-and-food spattered gown. "Here, this is much more comfortable than that dress."
Arwen tossed a tunic and breeches to Éowyn, who put them on. "I agree. Much better. I believe I can actually walk in these," Arwen pulled on a dark green tunic, with clashing blue breeches. Éowyn snickered. "Do people actually wear those?" Arwen looked at her outfit. "I do, apparently. They're comfortable!"
"They're nothing else," Éowyn commented, surveying her own costume- a yellow tunic with light green breeches. "Lord Elrond will have fits."
"Nay, he's used to it by now." Arwen giggled. "Besides, he knows that, as Queen of Gondor, I can do whatever I please." Éowyn grinned evilly. Arwen buckled a belt about her waist, and tossed one to Éowyn. They smiled, and began to walk downstairs. If Gondor was ready, or not, they were coming.
Legolas and Aragorn were both on horses, riding slowly back to Gondor. They jabbered away, oblivious to the rest of the world- and, truth be told, a bit reluctant to return. Aragorn had left in a hurry, Arwen would not be pleased.
Elrond, Elladan, and Elrohir had fled the hall- er, gone out to the garden- when Éowyn and Arwen came down. The table was still laden with food, which they attacked with vigor. Arwen was biting into a slab of cheese-covered bread, when she was hit in the face with a pickled beet. Éowyn sniggered softly at the end of the table, as she dug into a pile of fruit. Suddenly, a bowl of mush was upended on her head. Spluttering, she reached for the nearest thing to throw at Arwen- a cauldron of soup.
Bang! Bang! Bang! The noise echoed down the hall, and the two women paused in their food fight. The room was unrecognizable under pulverized fruit, splattered wine, and soup. Bang! Bang! Bang! Arwen uttered a most unladylike curse. "'Tis the King of Isengard," she said, answering Éowyn's puzzled look. "You know of which I speak, that stuffy old ruler of the lands that Saruman owned before his death." Éowyn grimaced. A grin slowly spread over Arwen's face. "We'll give him a proper greeting!"
King Barandur, Lord of Isengard and all the lands surrounding, was greeted by two soup-covered, breech wearing ladies. They both wore identical grins, and mischief was etched in both pairs of eyes. With deep trepidation, he entered. That was the worst mistake he ever made.
Aragorn uttered a curse that deeply resembled Arwen's colorful language. "What is it?" Legolas asked, interrupted in his speech about another perfect maiden who tried- and failed- to make him fall in love with him. "I just remembered- the King of Isengard is visiting today!"
"And what of that?" Legolas wanted to know. "Arwen is there, is she not?"
"Aye, that is was I was afraid of," Aragorn muttered darkly. "I think that there will be no trade route." They quickened their pace.
"Oh, yes, Lord Barandur, we're quite well provided," Éowyn tittered. The poor King looked quite puzzled. One moment they were warrior sword-maidens, the next giggling girls. "Of course," Arwen added, "Aragorn does none of the work. Leaves it all to me, and the cats," She indicated some rather bored looking felines draped about the room.
"Um.." King Barandur didn't know what to say. "I'm sure you do… quite a good job?" These women made him nervous. And there was a large vase full of water in the back of the room.
When Aragorn and Legolas finally arrived, it had begun to rain. Again. A flurry of soaking wet, muddy, messy, velvet and silk rushed out the castle window, ran up to a large horse, and galloped away. In the background, two women were doubled over with laughter. "Oh, dear," Legolas muttered. Aragorn thought of several things to say, but "Oh, dear," was not one of them.
"Greetings, husband, and to you, Prince Legolas." Arwen's voice was sweet- frighteningly so. "Did you enjoy your journey?" Éowyn sniggered. There was still plenty of honey in the larder. And plenty of mush to put it in.
Disclaimer: I. Own. Nothing. Duh.
Achoo!
Chapter the Sixth: Food fight!!
"Mellon, what is the time?" Éowyn groaned, and rolled over. They had both slept on the floor, which had consequently covered them in mud, wet clothing, food, and feathers.
Éowyn mumbled something. "Hm?"
"I think it's probably breakfast time," Éowyn muttered, sitting up and rubbing her eyes against the sun. Arwen was searching through the wardrobe, in search of something. She stopped, and grabbed something. She surveyed Éowyn with a critical eye. "You can hardly wear that to breakfast. Father will have a fit," Éowyn looked down ruefully at her mud-and-food spattered gown. "Here, this is much more comfortable than that dress."
Arwen tossed a tunic and breeches to Éowyn, who put them on. "I agree. Much better. I believe I can actually walk in these," Arwen pulled on a dark green tunic, with clashing blue breeches. Éowyn snickered. "Do people actually wear those?" Arwen looked at her outfit. "I do, apparently. They're comfortable!"
"They're nothing else," Éowyn commented, surveying her own costume- a yellow tunic with light green breeches. "Lord Elrond will have fits."
"Nay, he's used to it by now." Arwen giggled. "Besides, he knows that, as Queen of Gondor, I can do whatever I please." Éowyn grinned evilly. Arwen buckled a belt about her waist, and tossed one to Éowyn. They smiled, and began to walk downstairs. If Gondor was ready, or not, they were coming.
Legolas and Aragorn were both on horses, riding slowly back to Gondor. They jabbered away, oblivious to the rest of the world- and, truth be told, a bit reluctant to return. Aragorn had left in a hurry, Arwen would not be pleased.
Elrond, Elladan, and Elrohir had fled the hall- er, gone out to the garden- when Éowyn and Arwen came down. The table was still laden with food, which they attacked with vigor. Arwen was biting into a slab of cheese-covered bread, when she was hit in the face with a pickled beet. Éowyn sniggered softly at the end of the table, as she dug into a pile of fruit. Suddenly, a bowl of mush was upended on her head. Spluttering, she reached for the nearest thing to throw at Arwen- a cauldron of soup.
Bang! Bang! Bang! The noise echoed down the hall, and the two women paused in their food fight. The room was unrecognizable under pulverized fruit, splattered wine, and soup. Bang! Bang! Bang! Arwen uttered a most unladylike curse. "'Tis the King of Isengard," she said, answering Éowyn's puzzled look. "You know of which I speak, that stuffy old ruler of the lands that Saruman owned before his death." Éowyn grimaced. A grin slowly spread over Arwen's face. "We'll give him a proper greeting!"
King Barandur, Lord of Isengard and all the lands surrounding, was greeted by two soup-covered, breech wearing ladies. They both wore identical grins, and mischief was etched in both pairs of eyes. With deep trepidation, he entered. That was the worst mistake he ever made.
Aragorn uttered a curse that deeply resembled Arwen's colorful language. "What is it?" Legolas asked, interrupted in his speech about another perfect maiden who tried- and failed- to make him fall in love with him. "I just remembered- the King of Isengard is visiting today!"
"And what of that?" Legolas wanted to know. "Arwen is there, is she not?"
"Aye, that is was I was afraid of," Aragorn muttered darkly. "I think that there will be no trade route." They quickened their pace.
"Oh, yes, Lord Barandur, we're quite well provided," Éowyn tittered. The poor King looked quite puzzled. One moment they were warrior sword-maidens, the next giggling girls. "Of course," Arwen added, "Aragorn does none of the work. Leaves it all to me, and the cats," She indicated some rather bored looking felines draped about the room.
"Um.." King Barandur didn't know what to say. "I'm sure you do… quite a good job?" These women made him nervous. And there was a large vase full of water in the back of the room.
When Aragorn and Legolas finally arrived, it had begun to rain. Again. A flurry of soaking wet, muddy, messy, velvet and silk rushed out the castle window, ran up to a large horse, and galloped away. In the background, two women were doubled over with laughter. "Oh, dear," Legolas muttered. Aragorn thought of several things to say, but "Oh, dear," was not one of them.
"Greetings, husband, and to you, Prince Legolas." Arwen's voice was sweet- frighteningly so. "Did you enjoy your journey?" Éowyn sniggered. There was still plenty of honey in the larder. And plenty of mush to put it in.