Disclaimer: I own no Tolkien characters. Yes, I completely stole the idea for this story from Captain America, both "The First Avenger" and "Winter Soldier". For clarity's sake, Elladan is my Cap equivalent, Elrohir is Bucky, Lindir is Dr. Zol, & Estel is kind of Peggy (but please do not think this is slash, because it isn't!). As for Elrond, I believe his role is rather self-explanatory. Enjoy, and as always I truly appreciate comments and constructive criticism!
Author's note: Yes, I realize Elrond is rather OOC in this chapter…this was the original beginning of my story & I had no idea where is was going, then the Captain America idea hit. So bear in mind the overall silliness of this wild chapter! & just so you know, I'm not a vegetarian or anything & have no idea why I even got this idea in the first place! Chicken is probably my favorite meat, along with turkey, in just about any way you can imagine. Elves are likely partial to chicken too. ;)
2. The Evils of Fried Chicken
Lord Elrond sat in his study, papers forgotten as a terrifying thought entered his mind: Meat. That was one thing Lord Elrond couldn't stand. Sure, fish made for a fine meal, but any other animal? No way! His greatest fear was that one of his elves would travel somewhere, try meat, like it, and then bring it back and get his people hooked on it. Why would an elf kill an innocent animal and eat it? What a vile thought! And just why was he even thinking about meat right now anyway, in his own kingdom where he did not allow the foul stuff?
Meat is the sustenance of all power, Johan Schmidt whispered in his head. Stop fearing it. Embrace it.
However, that was one thing Elrond could not bring himself to do. At that moment his sons burst into the room, excited looks on their faces and holding something that smelled horrid.
"Ada! You have to taste this!" Elladan shoved it into his face as he backed away, his eyes wide. Scrambling backwards, he hid behind a chair. His hand trembled as he pointed to the door. "Get that thing out of here now! I don't want to ever see it again!"
"Ada! What is your problem? It's delicious! And Estel caught it and helped us fix it especially for you. If you would just give it one bite…" Elrohir tried to persuade his father. Estel had chosen to let the twins share a private moment with their father and was off somewhere else.
"No! Don't eat that stuff! You'll turn into an orc!" he shrieked.
Liar, the voice whispered. I would tell them who you really are...
The twins looked at each other and guffawed. They laughed until their sides hurt. Losing control for a moment, Elladan accidentally threw his treat and it slid across the floor towards Elrond. Letting out a loud, "Help!" he hopped onto the chair as though a mouse were about to run up his robes. This action set off another round of hysterics until the twins fell on the floor, exhausted from their giggling.
"It's not funny!" Elrond screamed again, sounding rather like a girl. "Get that thing away from me now!"
"Ada, seriously! It's just a piece of chicken! People eat it everywhere, you know. It doesn't hurt anyone. I've never yet seen someone turn into an orc from tasting and consuming chicken." Elrohir tried to calm himself but ended up rather unsuccessful, a huge grin lighting his face and his eyes twinkling with mischief. Elladan, in the same state, took one look at his brother and let off another round of chuckling, even as their father verged near berserk.
"I don't care! Get that thing out of my kingdom! You are not to eat meat ever again! It only leads to trouble. Take it from my sight at once or I shall have to punish both of you severely." The elven lord tried to remain calm and regain his stoic demeanour, but his voice squeaked and his hands reached into his robes, grabbing them to protect himself from the offensive item on the floor.
That's it. Show your fear. Way to go, Elrond, Johan told him sarcastically.
The twins grinned as Elladan took the chicken from under his father's feet. He couldn't resist waving it in his face one last time before flouncing off with his brother to enjoy the treat, after asking their cook, Cucua, to fix some for supper that night.
They planned to hone in their fighting skills in between their snack and evening meal and invited Estel to help them. He had tagged along with them ever since he first arrived in Imladris with his mother about 20 years ago, and since then they had become good friends of a sort. They were responsible for training him in the ways of the warrior, teaching him all the moves the elves had been perfecting over the centuries. Now, his training was almost complete and he prepared to leave their midst and join the Rangers, where he belonged.
Several hours later, Elrond had calmed and sat down to what he hoped would be a lovely meal of nice, green vegetables and fresh fruits, and perhaps some vintage wine from Esgaroth to wash it down. However, the cook proudly approached him and plopped a fat, juicy chicken thigh on his plate. Unable to lose control in front of his entire people, he shrank into his chair and avoided the vile thing.
Meanwhile, the other elves dug into the new food with relish, ignoring the frightened state of their ruler. "This is delicious!" "My compliments to the chef!" Such rang the comments as they laughed and enjoyed their food.
The twins nudged each other and hid wide grins behind their napkins as they noticed their father's discomfort. Estel simply remained grim and stoic in his expression, although he inwardly laughed. He had always been quieter than the fun-loving, mischievous identical twins and also a bit more astute. It took him about two years to be able to tell them apart, not just because of their looks but also their personalities. While they remained unique individuals, they learned at an early age to imitate each other so that they could trick everyone around them, sometimes even their parents. Lord Elrond was no easier to distinguish as far as looks go, albeit his personality was much more dignified and refined than his sons. All three elves shared the same long, dark locks and stood at equal height with a similar build.
The man withheld his guffaw as the twins gave each other their signature look, each subtly telling the other that they saw the chef working her way up from the end of the table.
Matters were made worse for Elrond when Cucua came arrived a few minutes later to receive her compliments in person and check on her most important diner: Lord Elrond himself. After working her way up to him, she looked thoughtfully at his plate. "Lord Elrond, you haven't touched the chicken I prepared especially for you. Everyone else enjoys it. Is there something wrong with it that I don't know about?"
Jumping up, the ruler of Rivendell screeched, "Yes! Meat is evil! I don't ever want it served in my kingdom again!"
Startled, everyone looked up at Elrond, the merriment instantly draining from their faces.
"Ada, really. What harm is there in letting the rest of us eat meat? Everyone loves it!" Elladan shot his father an accusing look.
Stomach roiling at the thought of meat infiltrating his kingdom every single day, he turned away from the table and groaned. "Ion, we went over this before. I tell you, only orcs and other foul beings eat meat like this!"
The voice laughed, cold and unfeeling, condemning. Man up. Face your fears! Do not give in.
Elrohir jumped in. "Ada, you know that isn't true! Humans, dwarves, and hobbits all eat it and they turn out just fine, even if they are mortals. But you know as well as I do that meat has nothing to do with that. Does it, Ada?" His eyes widened as he realized the full meaning of his question.
Scowling, Elrond replied, "Perhaps that is why all those creatures are mortal!" Turning back to his subjects, he stood on his chair to make himself more menacing, as well as place himself as far from the disgusting thigh on his plate as possible. "Just think, everyone. You have eaten a large quantity of meat. In fact, right now the very light of the Valar leaves your eyes as you slip towards mortality. Stop eating it now and the effect should be counteracted in a few days. However, continuation leads to certain death. This is one malady which I am unable to heal if you go too far."
The audience gasped, then sat in in startled silence as this revelation slowly sank in, and the elven ruler grinned in triumph. However, his sons were utterly unamused and rather disbelieving. "Ada, I think you need to go back to your room," Elladan chastened, with fervent nods of agreement from Elrohir.
Estel sat in the background, thoughtfully watching and contemplating the matter. He knew meat did not turn creatures into mortal beings, even if he was technically a mortal himself.
"You tell ME what to do?" The chair rocked back and forth. Crash! The seat splintered underneath his abusive weight and sent him sprawling as it burst into several pieces, leaving a rather undignified and mussed Elrond on the floor.
Quite unprofessional. You really are going to have to up your standards.
"Ada! Ada! Are you alright?" the twins called together as they rushed to their father's side.
He tried to get up but found his arm splayed awkwardly under him and simply lay there, his hair tangled and his robes dishevelled. "I'll be fine," he growled, inwardly groaning at the indignity. It was likely he would never live down the whole situation, seeing as how he had fallen in front of the entire kingdom of Rivendell and his twin sons tended to keep a joke running as long as possible.
Unable to handle the situation any longer, Estel slipped away to ponder matters further in the library, hoping to find some historical books to help in his theory. He knew Lord Elrond had plenty of helpers and did not need yet another onlooker, and pretty much an outsider to boot. When the time was right, he would share his findings with the twins, which would do more good than staying in a situation in which he would not help. But first, he had to be certain his suspicions were right.
Elladan took one look at his father's arm and walked to Thadrian, their most skilled healer. He whispered in his ear, then the elf went to his ruler as Elladan stood up and addressed the crowd. "You are free to go as soon as you are done, and from the looks of things I recommend sooner rather than later."
Wasting no time, the Rivendell subjects fled the scene, terrified of their fate. The twins would have to straighten them out later. But first they must attend their father.
Thadrian looked up as the twins approached, a grave expression on his face. "Your father seems to have broken his arm. I will have to take him to the healing rooms to set it. You are both welcome to join us if he doesn't mind."
"I don't need anyone!" the Lord butted in as he gave his children a dark look. He then struggled to get up but immediately collapsed again.
"Let me look at that leg, sire," Thadrian calmly cautioned. Probing the swelling area, he looked up. "You also have a badly sprained ankle. I'm afraid you'll have to be carried in and stay there a few days."
Sighing, Elrond submitted as his sons picked him up and carried him to the healing rooms. Today was not his day.
Thadrian patched him up in good time and left him alone, giving the twins the perfect opportunity to take advantage of their father's prone state. Figuring the healer would work better without their sparkling, mischievous eyes riveted on him, they had gone off to think up more ways to terrorize their father. This was too good an opportunity to miss! A few minutes after Thadrian finished, they marched in with a piece of fried chicken in each hand. Their teeth flashed as they ripped off chunks of flesh, groaning in contentment.
Elrond squirmed and tightened into the best ball he could make with his broken arm and sprained ankle, which ended up looking more like a frog that had been run over by a wagon. He closed his eyes and shielded them with his good hand while pointing with his bad one. "Get those vile things out of here!"
Cackling, Elladan and Elrohir munched their treats, enjoying their father's petrified state. "Come on, just one bite and you'll be hooked! Have you ever even tried a bite, Ada? You always made us try stuff we didn't want when we were young, saying we might like it." Elrohir brought a wing closer and the smell alone threatened to make his father wretch.
"Absolutely not! Those rules only apply to children!"
Elladan smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Why have rules just for children? If they can't apply to adults too, they must not be very good." However, he received a dark glare in reply.
The twins looked at each other. Elladan swiftly pinned his father down as Elrohir readied the fried chicken. The older twin had been training and was at last stronger than his brother. Elrohir never had to work to get his strong muscles and constantly won their play wrestling matches when they were younger. As they grew, Elladan began working out and at last got to be on par with his brother. What Elrohir did not know is that Elrond had made a special concoction which aided in muscle growth and made him stronger than any other elf that they knew of. Elrond couldn't have his firstborn son and heir being a puny weakling, especially not since Elladan was always put in charge whenever the elven lord had to leave Imladirs on business.
All this kindness was momentarily forgotten as the brothers worked to terrorize their father. At Elladan's nod, Elrohir shoved a bite of the dreaded treat into his mouth. Gagging and sputtering, Elrond's face grew pale as the chicken entered his mouth, helpless. To make matters worse, they held their hands over his lips so he was forced to either have to hold the dreaded food in his mouth or swallow. Since his sons were as determined as he was, he finally gave in and swallowed as he choked. They released him and he screamed, "Help me up!"
"Ada, you aren't going to puke on us, are you? We can't have that!"
Elrohir piped up. "It wasn't that bad, was it now, Ada? Come on, admit it: you liked it!"
Holding his stomach with his good arm, the elven ruler tried to keep from throwing up and embarrassing himself further, not to mention gratifying his sons. "No! That was the foulest thing ever!"
"Ada, you can't really believe meat causes mortality. Mother got so sick from orc poison, not meat!" Elladan tried to keep from laughing but turned out unsuccessful.
"How do you know their poison isn't made from meat?" he retaliated. Would this verbal sparring match never end?
Elladan piped up. "So what if it is? They'd surely have to mix it with other things. Even spinach could prove deadly if you had the right stuff to put with it." He was having way too much fun.
"Just leave me alone! And for goodness' sake, take those nasty remains of a dead animal with you!"
Giving up for now, the twins headed out to set the rest of their people straight. Then they would plot another way to get their father addicted to meat.
Elrond slipped his good hand up to his face, relieved the mask had only peeled back slightly. Lindir needed to fix it for him. That elf, too docile and obliging for most elves to like him, proved to be the perfect one to trust with his secret. Lindir feared Elrond more than any other elf and would never reveal anything bad about his master. The elven ruler rang a bell and sent the servant to find that man.
Several minutes later, Lindir rushed in, having missed the whole dinner fiasco while away caring for his horse. He had lost track of time when inspiration hit him and he composed a new song, oblivious to the fact that he had just missed a meal, which happened far too often for the elven ruler to like.
"Lord Elrond! Are you alright?" Lindir cried as he knelt beside the bed.
"No! My sons are terrorizing me, I'm laid up in my own infirmary, and my disguise is threatening to fall off! You have to help me!"
If Lindir had been any other elf in the entire kingdom - actually make that all of Middle Earth - he would be on the floor cackling like a hyena to see his ruler cowering in a bed like a small child. But Lindir was, well, Lindir, and fully sympathized with his ruler. In fact, he kept a special bottle of glue on him at all times, just in case Elrond ever needed it. "Here, you'll be fine," he assured as he applied the glue. Then he proceeded to wrap a few bandages around his head.
"What's that for?"
"The glue takes five hours to dry and you have to keep pressure on it that whole time. If anyone asks, you could always tell them you hit your head when you fell."
"I suppose that would be true, even if my arm and leg suffered the worst of my, er, accident."
"Do you need anything else?"
"Well, I doubt you can convince our kingdom to get rid of all the fried chicken. My so-called loyal subjects have abandoned my cautions, it seems, and fallen in love with the food. What will I do?" he moaned, holding his head once again.
"I am sorry, Lord Elrond. Perhaps you could send the twins to Lothlórien?"
"No, they are old enough to be on their own and challenge my authority too much as it is. I shall just have to think up some excuse not to eat the chicken."
"Alright, let me know if you need me for anything."
"Why don't you just sit with me a while and read or something? I'm tired but I want someone here in case the twins think up some other way to torture me. And to distract me from that horrid voice."
Lindir grabbed a chair and produced a small book from somewhere in the folds of his grey robe.
A/N: If you are reading this story & like it, I would appreciate you letting me know! Further, NaNoWriMo is mere hours away & I am planning on participating. This means I may or may not update next month. If I get enough reviews I might.