Ip Min: Concerning Dead Chickens
"Your highness! How good to see you. What can I do for you?" Radriewen exclaimed upon Legolas's entrance. The young prince sighed but didn't correct her. Radriewen wasn't an Elf; she was human and a very old one at that. She was short and round with greying hair that she fought to pull up into a bun. By noon, the bun was a small bump on the top of her head, the stray strands having fallen to become wisps around her face. Her face was wrinkled and rough and reminded Legolas of a tree's bark, but her eyes were still young and gleamed like jewels between the creases of her face.
"We came to see what it is that you are cooking,"
"-And to snatch a little sample!" finished Mebririon, entering the kitchen behind the Prince. Radriewen smiled and looked around her for a suitable snack.
"Dinner will be served in an hour. Are you sure the King would want you to eat?" she asked.
"Well, then can I help you make dinner? I am sure that I could cook." Legolas asked, his blue eyes large. Radriewen hesitated, then laughed and handed him an apron.
"Very well, your highness. You shall help me fix your father's supper." The boy jumped with joy and tied the apron around his waist and perched upon a table while Mebririon snatched an apple and sat back to watch.
"Come, help me make the dumplings."
"Dumplings? What are we having?" Legolas questioned.
"Chicken soup. Here, now pour four cups of flour into this bowl here," Radriewen instructed, handing the boy a bag of flour and a metal cup. The little boy stuck his arm half into the bag. His arm emerged a white colour; the metal cup heaped full of the flour. Using a flat edged knife, the little boy levelled off the cup, spilling the excess all over the floor. Two more cups went into the bowl the same way, without accident. But when Legolas put his arm deep into the bag for the final cup, he found that the bag was almost empty. That was when the young prince noticed the hole in the corner of the bag. He looked up to find Radriewen to help, but her back was turned away from him as she worked on their dessert. Next Legolas looked to Mebririon for help, but the stable boy was studying another cook, female, off in the distance who was peeling potatoes. Jumping off the table, Legolas decided that he could clean it up all on his own. As he pushed himself off the table, however, his flour-covered arm hit the small tin of water that was sitting near him to be added to the flour next. The water spilled over the table and dripped into the pile of flour on the floor. Now, as everyone in middle earth already knows, water and flour combined can make a sort of paste. It was this paste that Legolas fell, face first, into. The little boy pushed himself to his feet, and looking out of flour-crusted eyes, spotted a blue and green towel on another table near a wooden cage that housed the live chicken that would become their dinner. Legolas took a tentative step, careful not to slip on the paste. Another step, and then another got him to the table. Happy at his success, he grabbed the towel and turned quickly. His feet, with the paste on them, slid out from under him. The boy windmilled his arms, fighting for balance but naught could save him. The boy fell upon his bum, knocking his pretty blond head against the table as he went. The table jumped with the impact, and the wooden crate that held the chicken fell off the corner of the table with a loud crash and a painful squawk. The crate, which had obviously been shoddily made, swung upon and the chicken, now panicked, flapped and squawked as she fought her way free of her imprisonment. Hearing the commotion, Radriewen turned to find the chicken running like crazy, flapping her wings franticly and succeeding to gain a half-meter of flight. Legolas was crawling around on all fours, covered in the floury paste, trying to catch the renegade foul. Tables were being knocked and bowls of food were being strewn across the floor. Legolas, making a grab for the chicken, fell face first into a basket of oats, spilling them across the floor. Mebririon, however, was still tantalised by the lovely Elven maiden in the next room who was peeling potatoes. Radriewen began to chase the chicken, using her long billowed skirts to herd it toward a corner. But a stressed out chicken is not easy to herd. Legolas lunged toward the foul again, almost grabbing its leg. The chicken squawked loudly and flapped her wings, taking to the air. The chicken gained more and more air as she franticly flapped for her life until she came to rest on Mebririon's head with a triumphant squawk. *That* got his attention. As did Legolas who jumped upon a stool before lunging at the chicken, successfully grabbing a hold of its right leg. But it wasn't over. The chicken began to flail its wings, beating the air in a useless attempt to fly. Legolas, who was not very much bigger than the crazed bird, fought to keep her in his control. He staggered around the kitchen, fighting to get the chicken toward another crate, knocking over bottles of milk and baskets of carrots. Mebririon chased after the two, trying to grab the chicken from Legolas. In one, desperate act, the little Elf swung his arms to his left, trying to counteract the chicken's desire to go to the right. Mebririon yelled a word of caution, but it was too late. Legolas had miscalculated the weight of the bird, the momentum of his arm, and the location of the nearby stone wall. The chicken's head hit that wall with a dull thud and suddenly, all was quiet. Legolas stood there, covered in a flour paste with oats stuck to him, water and milk dripping from his hair around the numerous chicken feathers that stuck into his braids. In his arms he held the chicken, now limp and lifeless. Blood flowed from the little boy's knuckles where they scraped against the same stone wall that had brought the chicken to its death. A bruise was forming on his cheek, the knees of his leggings were ripped and a small trickle of blood flowed from the left one. The cuts stung, as they had flour and water and milk and everything else that was on the floor now embedded in them. But Legolas did not notice. His eyes were locked upon the lifeless chicken.
"Legolas-" Mebririon started, but Legolas did not answer. Radriewen went to his side and wrapped her arms around him. Still the young boy did not respond. The adults watched him for a long time, watched as a single tear rolled down his cheek. Listened as his now pale lips whispered a prayer. Watched as Legolas turned and walked silently out of the room, the dead chicken sill in his arms.
A/N: Awww. What do you guys think he'll do with the chicken? I promise the next chapter will be a little happier...the end of this one was kind of sad, huh? Anyway, I apologize for the wait for this chapter. My classes have just started again and I was busy with those. But, the good news is this chapter was longer than the others! So, worth the wait? The next chapter should be up sooner, maybe even today or tomorrow depending on how boring my classes end up being. So everyone knows, I am not a baker. I can cook (kind of) but I couldn't make a batch of cookies to save my life. So, if any of these seems unaccurate, well, I don't really care, but hey. It *is* possible to make paste with water and flour, however. And I think you add egg whites too...I can't remember. Doesn't realy matter, though, that's why we have Elmer's nowadays! Please R&R, it's what keeps me going. And thanks to all of you who have been giving me so much support: elf girl, Lady Wolf Moon, and Nevermore!
(Wow, the A/N is longer than half my chapters!)
Disclaimer:
~ I do not own Legolas or Thranduil or any other characters of The Lord of the Rings that I decide to put in this story. I'm just using them for my own twisted pleasure.
I *do* own the dust bunnies: Glithiel, Sebrimir, Elrildur, Rioclya, and Amaran, the spidies, the nursemaid Amyndra, and Hilmar.
~ I also am the owner of Delaril and that stable boy, if I ever decide to give him a name.
~ And I have just added that poor little horse who still has an arrow stuck in his bum to my list of assets that shall be passed on to whoever the bloody wants them after I'm gone. Also the poor, poor imbecile who's job it was to teach our young Legolas how to shoot! Though neither of them have names just now.
~ No new assets, but that horse did finally get a name: Fing!
~ Hehe; I've gotten two new Elves to torture now; Radriewen and Mebririon.
~Okay; now I own the poor chicken that was tortured and put in a cage and chased around the kitchen only to die a quick death of a concussion. Poor thing. Chicken dumpling soup really is good, though!
"Your highness! How good to see you. What can I do for you?" Radriewen exclaimed upon Legolas's entrance. The young prince sighed but didn't correct her. Radriewen wasn't an Elf; she was human and a very old one at that. She was short and round with greying hair that she fought to pull up into a bun. By noon, the bun was a small bump on the top of her head, the stray strands having fallen to become wisps around her face. Her face was wrinkled and rough and reminded Legolas of a tree's bark, but her eyes were still young and gleamed like jewels between the creases of her face.
"We came to see what it is that you are cooking,"
"-And to snatch a little sample!" finished Mebririon, entering the kitchen behind the Prince. Radriewen smiled and looked around her for a suitable snack.
"Dinner will be served in an hour. Are you sure the King would want you to eat?" she asked.
"Well, then can I help you make dinner? I am sure that I could cook." Legolas asked, his blue eyes large. Radriewen hesitated, then laughed and handed him an apron.
"Very well, your highness. You shall help me fix your father's supper." The boy jumped with joy and tied the apron around his waist and perched upon a table while Mebririon snatched an apple and sat back to watch.
"Come, help me make the dumplings."
"Dumplings? What are we having?" Legolas questioned.
"Chicken soup. Here, now pour four cups of flour into this bowl here," Radriewen instructed, handing the boy a bag of flour and a metal cup. The little boy stuck his arm half into the bag. His arm emerged a white colour; the metal cup heaped full of the flour. Using a flat edged knife, the little boy levelled off the cup, spilling the excess all over the floor. Two more cups went into the bowl the same way, without accident. But when Legolas put his arm deep into the bag for the final cup, he found that the bag was almost empty. That was when the young prince noticed the hole in the corner of the bag. He looked up to find Radriewen to help, but her back was turned away from him as she worked on their dessert. Next Legolas looked to Mebririon for help, but the stable boy was studying another cook, female, off in the distance who was peeling potatoes. Jumping off the table, Legolas decided that he could clean it up all on his own. As he pushed himself off the table, however, his flour-covered arm hit the small tin of water that was sitting near him to be added to the flour next. The water spilled over the table and dripped into the pile of flour on the floor. Now, as everyone in middle earth already knows, water and flour combined can make a sort of paste. It was this paste that Legolas fell, face first, into. The little boy pushed himself to his feet, and looking out of flour-crusted eyes, spotted a blue and green towel on another table near a wooden cage that housed the live chicken that would become their dinner. Legolas took a tentative step, careful not to slip on the paste. Another step, and then another got him to the table. Happy at his success, he grabbed the towel and turned quickly. His feet, with the paste on them, slid out from under him. The boy windmilled his arms, fighting for balance but naught could save him. The boy fell upon his bum, knocking his pretty blond head against the table as he went. The table jumped with the impact, and the wooden crate that held the chicken fell off the corner of the table with a loud crash and a painful squawk. The crate, which had obviously been shoddily made, swung upon and the chicken, now panicked, flapped and squawked as she fought her way free of her imprisonment. Hearing the commotion, Radriewen turned to find the chicken running like crazy, flapping her wings franticly and succeeding to gain a half-meter of flight. Legolas was crawling around on all fours, covered in the floury paste, trying to catch the renegade foul. Tables were being knocked and bowls of food were being strewn across the floor. Legolas, making a grab for the chicken, fell face first into a basket of oats, spilling them across the floor. Mebririon, however, was still tantalised by the lovely Elven maiden in the next room who was peeling potatoes. Radriewen began to chase the chicken, using her long billowed skirts to herd it toward a corner. But a stressed out chicken is not easy to herd. Legolas lunged toward the foul again, almost grabbing its leg. The chicken squawked loudly and flapped her wings, taking to the air. The chicken gained more and more air as she franticly flapped for her life until she came to rest on Mebririon's head with a triumphant squawk. *That* got his attention. As did Legolas who jumped upon a stool before lunging at the chicken, successfully grabbing a hold of its right leg. But it wasn't over. The chicken began to flail its wings, beating the air in a useless attempt to fly. Legolas, who was not very much bigger than the crazed bird, fought to keep her in his control. He staggered around the kitchen, fighting to get the chicken toward another crate, knocking over bottles of milk and baskets of carrots. Mebririon chased after the two, trying to grab the chicken from Legolas. In one, desperate act, the little Elf swung his arms to his left, trying to counteract the chicken's desire to go to the right. Mebririon yelled a word of caution, but it was too late. Legolas had miscalculated the weight of the bird, the momentum of his arm, and the location of the nearby stone wall. The chicken's head hit that wall with a dull thud and suddenly, all was quiet. Legolas stood there, covered in a flour paste with oats stuck to him, water and milk dripping from his hair around the numerous chicken feathers that stuck into his braids. In his arms he held the chicken, now limp and lifeless. Blood flowed from the little boy's knuckles where they scraped against the same stone wall that had brought the chicken to its death. A bruise was forming on his cheek, the knees of his leggings were ripped and a small trickle of blood flowed from the left one. The cuts stung, as they had flour and water and milk and everything else that was on the floor now embedded in them. But Legolas did not notice. His eyes were locked upon the lifeless chicken.
"Legolas-" Mebririon started, but Legolas did not answer. Radriewen went to his side and wrapped her arms around him. Still the young boy did not respond. The adults watched him for a long time, watched as a single tear rolled down his cheek. Listened as his now pale lips whispered a prayer. Watched as Legolas turned and walked silently out of the room, the dead chicken sill in his arms.
A/N: Awww. What do you guys think he'll do with the chicken? I promise the next chapter will be a little happier...the end of this one was kind of sad, huh? Anyway, I apologize for the wait for this chapter. My classes have just started again and I was busy with those. But, the good news is this chapter was longer than the others! So, worth the wait? The next chapter should be up sooner, maybe even today or tomorrow depending on how boring my classes end up being. So everyone knows, I am not a baker. I can cook (kind of) but I couldn't make a batch of cookies to save my life. So, if any of these seems unaccurate, well, I don't really care, but hey. It *is* possible to make paste with water and flour, however. And I think you add egg whites too...I can't remember. Doesn't realy matter, though, that's why we have Elmer's nowadays! Please R&R, it's what keeps me going. And thanks to all of you who have been giving me so much support: elf girl, Lady Wolf Moon, and Nevermore!
(Wow, the A/N is longer than half my chapters!)
Disclaimer:
~ I do not own Legolas or Thranduil or any other characters of The Lord of the Rings that I decide to put in this story. I'm just using them for my own twisted pleasure.
I *do* own the dust bunnies: Glithiel, Sebrimir, Elrildur, Rioclya, and Amaran, the spidies, the nursemaid Amyndra, and Hilmar.
~ I also am the owner of Delaril and that stable boy, if I ever decide to give him a name.
~ And I have just added that poor little horse who still has an arrow stuck in his bum to my list of assets that shall be passed on to whoever the bloody wants them after I'm gone. Also the poor, poor imbecile who's job it was to teach our young Legolas how to shoot! Though neither of them have names just now.
~ No new assets, but that horse did finally get a name: Fing!
~ Hehe; I've gotten two new Elves to torture now; Radriewen and Mebririon.
~Okay; now I own the poor chicken that was tortured and put in a cage and chased around the kitchen only to die a quick death of a concussion. Poor thing. Chicken dumpling soup really is good, though!
