I'm having issues deciding what to write my next chapter about, so I decided to put this little story that I wrote a while ago on here. Enjoy.
"What did you say this was?" Eithryn asked, sniffing the brown liquid.
"The merchant called it coffee," her father-in-law told her. "Now if you are going to try it, I would ask that you do so and then seek out my son so I do not have to worry about any of my new merchandise being broken."
Eithryn sipped from the small cup, made a face, and then shrugged and drained it. She handed the cup back to Oropher and bounced off.
Oropher smirked. If the rest of what the merchant had told him about the drink was true, his son might have a very interesting day.
. . . . . .
Thranduil was working on something important—he could never remember exactly what it was afterward—when his wife bounced in. "Hi," she said.
He stood and turned, smiling, but she was nowhere to be found. He frowned and turned back, and then cried out when he found her RIGHT THERE.
"This looks boring," she complained. "Why are you doing this instead of something interesting like killing orcs or exploring the forest or playing a game or being grumpy or something else you like to do instead? Or you could practice fighting or chase squirrels or go to Lothlorien or youknowwhatweshouldgorunfiftymilesyesthat'sagoodideacomeonlet'sgo." She dragged him out the door.
"And that, Legolas," Thranduil said to his son many, many years later, "is why you may not try the coffee."