Let Them Eat Cake
by: Kellen

A/N: Oh, come on! It wouldn't be a Kellen fic without this! :o) There
are, like, three people in my office today. Everybody else in in
Eugene -- which is where I'm headed come 5 pm -- and I am going
insane!! At least I got to finish this. Something productive, even if
its not, you know, work. Ah, well. I see it as compensation for
working on Veteran's Day and being hauled up in front of 700 people
to say something inspirational and heartwarmed. I should just read
them "Here Cometh the Cheese." Seriously! Anyway, without much
further ado...

Disclaimer: (Y'all thought I was getting to the story,now, eh?) If I
actually owned these characters, I'd sell this. Cash is good. We like
cash. It's precciousssss to ussss...

*shakes head* Sorry. Was recently in Wal-Mart. I don't think I'm
allowed back. (I'll leave the rest of the up to your imagination...)


Let Them Eat Cake
Chapter Two:


"Oh, for the sake of the Valar, I am a house-Elf," Fiwen
muttered, "not a spy." She bit her lip as she rounded a corner in
Elrond's house, looking decidedly anxious as she played with her long
dark hair. She twirled a strand around her finger, bringing the end
up to eye level. Errant strands of bright purple still shot through
the otherwise black as night hair and the ends were split and frayed.
She frowned. She thought she looked like an overworked human
housewife. Very un-Elf-like. Very not befitting an Elf of her
stature.

"This is your fault, Estel." Fiwen almost snarled when she realized
she was talking to herself. She had always been the most cool, the
most collected of she-Elves, and only just recently had acquired the
nasty habit of humanity. "It's from being around him all the time."

Fiwen stopped, nearly taking the time to slap herself. "And now I am
getting impudent. Lord Elrond will put me out in the street for
thinking like that."

"I do not always condemn a person for how think." The deep voice of
her master and employer said behind her. Fiwen's eyes went
wide. "Usually it is by your actions how you are judged."

Fiwen closed her eyes, wishing for all the world that a balrog would
rise up underneath her and devour her living soul. Of couse, she'd
probably blame that on Estel, too, were it to actually happen. She
whirled, suddenly out of breath. "My lord! I did not hear... notice
you... I... you are behind me? How long have you been behind me?"

Elrond tried not to smile at the she-Elf's now complete humiliation.
It seemed somewhat cruel to actually be amused at her antics,
considering she had born the brunt of practical jokes lately. "I have
heard something about spying and it being Estel's fault."

"Oh, by the Valar, you heard it all."

It was the sheer terror underneath the deadpan tone that softened
Elrond's heart. Fiwen was young, somewhat outspoken, but a good,
loyal and honest Elf. "Aye, yes. I did," he replied, "and, trust me,
no one knows how trying humans can be than me." He winked at
her. "Inside knowledge," he said conspiratorally. Fiwen
grinned. "Now, Fiwen, do tell: What has Estel done now?"

Fiwen related the morning's events, nearly breathless by the time she
was done.

Elrond laughed. "The boy is thinking revenge for the cheese, now is
he? What say you and I cook up a little something to forestall that,
eh, Fiwen?"

A slow smile spread across Fiwen's countenance. "What shall I do, my
lord?"

"You said he was going to meet you in the kitchen to put on a show
for Cook?" Fiwen nodded. Elrond smiled. "Good. We will turn the table
on him. You and Cook will whip up a little something especially for
Estel. Follow me."

----------------------------------------------------------------------


Estel glared at Fiwen in consternation. She was flubbing it. His
master plan, and she was absolutely, positively ruining it! It was
heartless. Cruel. He knew she wasn't that stupid.

Then again, considering all he'd put her through, perhaps she'd
finally snapped.

Fiwen crossed the room, still speaking with Cook, but never getting
him out of the kitchen like Estel planned. "I do not see why you
think I have to run get more of those herbs, Cook. I've much to do
here."

Cook rolled his eyes. "Fiwen, you are of top calibur when it comes to
finding some of these herbs. I have seen you work."

"It's not work. I enjoy it."

"So, go do it."

"It takes time, Cook. I cannot just leave on a moment's -- what is
this? Oh, Cook!"

Cook turned, motioning toward the doorway. "Estel, you can come in.
You do not have to hang on the doorjamb forever, dear boy."

Estel rolled his eyes and stepped in the kitchen. He'd be old and
gray, and Cook would still call him "dear boy."

Cook took a vial from Fiwen, who'd picked it up off a counter. "How
did this get here?"

"It's your kitchen, Cook," Fiwen said, "though if that got into
anything..."

Cook groaned. "I would never hear the end of it. At least I'd have
time to get out of Imladris before reprisal."

Fiwen laughed. "How perfectly horrible of you, Cook. Elrond might be
induced to murder if you actually put that in anything."

Estel stepped into the room. "What's it do?"

Fiwen turned away, obstensibly to put the vial of clear liquid on the
shelf, and hid a grin. He was doing exactly what Elrond said he would
do. She could almost see his mind working out a plan.

Cook answered for her. "Just a few drops of that would cause some
discomfort to elves," he commented. "An elf sick to his stomach is
not a happy elf, seeing as how they rarely feel such discomfort." He
turned to Fiwen. "You have that put away, dear heart? I shudder to
think of what might happen if I mixed that up with anything."

Estel narrowed his eyes. "If it causes sickness in elves, why is it
in the kitchen?"

Cook smiled. "Because of you."

"Come again?"

Fiwen took up the answer. "It may make elves uncomfortable, but,
conversely, it actually helps a human's sickness. It's a very strange
thing, though, of course, there is stranger in Middle Earth."

"Huh." Estel watched. "That is strange, indeed."

"Did you need something, Estel?" Cook asked.

"Hmm? Oh, no." Estel turned to leave. "Not a thing. Not a thing."

Fiwen waited till she knew he was out of earshot. She smiled at
Cook. "I think we've bagged him."

Cook nodded.

"I will go make sure Lord Elrond knows that things have been set in
motion."

Cook grinned. "This is bound to be good."

"Oh, yes." Fiwen nodded. "Oh, yes," she said as she exited the
kitchen.

----------------------------------------------------------------------


Estel eyes the vial he had stolen and the pastries he'd similarly
lifted earlier that night.

"I wonder how much to use," he whispered as he poured drops of the
clear, odorless liquid into the pastries. "I wonder if it needs
cooked in," he continued. "Ah, well. If it doesn't work this time
around, we'll just try again."

He arranged the pastries neatly. "Perfect for breakfast," he
commented as he left it on Elrond's table in the library. "Just
perfect."

---------------------------------------------TBC

Oooh, a nefarious plot hatched by Estel. Or has it been hatched by
Fiwen and Elrond? Who knows anymore!?!? And who's going to take the
brunt of this joke? What's in the vial? And who's gonna stop me? I'm
going stir-crazy!!!

Cheers, Kellen