A/N: I'm back with this story. Everything in strides, and this story needed some time so I could write it. So now that they're all in cooking school, let's explore the fun of French cuisine!!
Chapter Thirteen: Lesson One: How to Make Mashed Potatoes.
At Le Cuisine de Middle Earth..."What the heck are we doing here?" Boromir asks, trying to put on the chef's apron.
"We're all learning how to cook!" Sam says happily.
"Ok, what are we learning to cook? It'd better be worth it, I just lost all my money for my anger management, and if this sucks, you're going down, little man!" Eowyn nearly pops a vein screaming.
"Ok, class, settle down!" Screams a man with a French-sounding accent. This is Chef Louis.
"Hey!" Aragorn and Boromir scream, standing up.
"I don't understand why I have to come, I'm just the mascot." Denethor moans.
"Ok, class, we're gonna learn how to flambé a chicken and make mashed potatoes. First, we start with the potatoes." Louis says.
"I know how to make taters!" Sam yells indignantly.
"Shut up, little boy. Now, everyone take 5 taters—I mean, potatoes, from that barrel and peel and slice them." Louis says.
So the group gets the potatoes and starts to peel and slice.
"Ok...no, Pippin, when peeling, move the knife away from your heart! Denethor, don't peel at eye level! Aragorn, it's a small peeling knife, not a sword! Boromir! Stop hacking that poor potato!" Louis screams.
"Like this?" Merry asks, holding up a potato resembling a toothpick.
"NON! Imbecile, how are you doing this? You must perform the peeling like it is an art, like it is ballet." Louis screams.
"But I hate ballet!" Boromir yells, whipping the potato against the wall, and waking Haldir up.
"WHA???"
"Hey, didn't dad make you take Ballet?" Faramir says, looking at Boromir.
"NO!!" Boromir says.
"Really? I think you're lying..." Faramir says.
"SHUT UP!!!" Boromir says, tossing the potato at Faramir.
"ENOUGH!!! Now, we soak the Potatoes in a pot of hot water..." Louis says.
The group places the potatoes in the water.
"Now, we must start the gravy. All right, take some milk and beef stock and butter and combine them in a large, heated pot." Louis says.
The group does so.
"Now, we let it cook for an hour."
So as they wait, everyone starts to play poker. Except Chef Louis, who is sitting in the corner and muttering in French.
"Ok, Boromir, anti up." Denethor says.
"Fine. I'll put in...oh, let's say...$15.00?" Boromir says.
"What? But you have a bad hand!" Pippin says.
"Yeah, right. My hand's better than yours!"
"Fine, I'll put in $16.00" Merry says.
"Merry!" Sam breathes in shock. "You'll loose it all!"
"Not if I can help it! $17.00!" Aragorn says.
"What? That's insane, but...$19.00!" Arwen says.
"Arwen, it's a pity you're going to LOSE!!" Eowyn says. "$20.00!"
"Ok, lady Eowyn, that's great but...$22.00!" Legolas says.
"$23.00!" Pippin interjects.
"$29.00!" Boromir adds.
"$100.00!!" Denethor yells, slamming a check for 100 on the table.
"Woah...so that's...261 frickin' dollars!" Aragorn says.
"Er..." Pippin says, looking at his small hand of 1 2 3 4 5, all diamonds. "I fold."
"WHAT?" Denethor shrieks.
"I just won't win." Pippin admits.
"I fold, as well." Merry, Aragorn, Sam and Arwen say.
"EEK! Oh, well, more chance for me!" Eowyn says.
"Are you sure?" Denethor asks, giving her a suspicious smile.
"Ah...no...I think I'll fold." Eowyn says.
This leaves Legolas, Boromir, Faramir, and Denethor.
"Ok, I'm folding...I make better money racing horses..." Legolas says.
"All right. This is it, men."
"Got it, dad. Don't be so dramatic."
"All right, place you hand on the table." Denethor says.
They do so as the victor of 261 dollars is revealed.
A/N: Cliffhanger!! Gasp! Ok, don't hate me, it's coming along...I need my poker ace (no pun intended) to tell me what the highest is, so...let's hope for the best!