Disclaimer: I don't own LotR. If I did, I would kill Frodo.
Housework. The very word scares me.
Sure, I'm supposed to be brave. I fought orcs and goblins and trolls and wizards and didn't even so much as bat an eye. I rule an entire nation. Gondor. For a while, I thought kingship was my deepest fear. I tried to run from it. But now, that I am king, I don't think it's too bad.
For a while, I thought the scariest thing was Arwen. When she bitches, I run. When she gets PMS, I get a ticket outta there. When she yells, I scream and run. Women are scary things.
When we were first married, Arwen gave me the talk. She told me I was the head of the house. I was thrilled. Then she told me that she was the neck, and she could turn the head any way she wanted.
Because I'm king, I have servants. So I didn't have to worry about housework. Until yesterday. Arwen announced that she and Eowyn were taking a vacation to the Bahamas. And she was taking all the servants. All of them. And Faramir and I would have to care for our offspring.
Which meant housework.
Housework. Not a fun thing. Faramir may have had some bad experiences, but he has nothing on what happened to me.
When I was three, Elrond told me make lunch for myself. I cut my fingers, bled all over my sandwich, and cried my eyes out because of onions. I spilt eggs, and the toaster shot toast at me so I cut it with my word. Never stick metal objects in a toaster.
When I was ten, I tried to bake cookies. I thought granulated sugar was icing sugar. We didn't have any, so I left it out. To make a long story short, everyone complimented me on the buns I had made and we ate them with soup.
When I was twelve, I tried to make cinnamon buns. There were little crawly things in the flour. Everyone thought they were chocolate chips, and hey, after they were cooked, who could tell the difference?
I tried making chicken a couple of months later. No one told me that you had to kill them and pluck them before you cooked them! When I served it to Elrond, and he stabbed it with his fork, it let out a tremendous squawk and tried to fly. Legolas shot off its head. Let me tell you, when people say "running around like a chicken with its head cut off", they don't know the half of it. It sprayed cooked blood all over the guests. When someone caught it, it had a muscle spasm and humped their leg. I wasn't allowed near a kitchen for the next two years.
When I was fifteen, I left Rivendell and went into the wilderness. I learned how to make squirrel. The paws are the best bit. The heads squeak when you squish out the brains. The tail makes a great toothbrush. Arwen caught me eating one a week ago. I still can't sit down.
Poor Faramir and I are alone. Our poor children.
These next two weeks should be interesting. And scary.