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Let Them Eat Cake (Three Horses and an Ass TP)

Tags: Menelglir,  Nurenhir,  Sulgirion

Short Summary: Menelglir and Sulgirion enjoy the wonders of Nurenhir's baking.
Date (real-life): 2010-01-06
Scene Location: Herunnur's Porch, Imladris

============== Lord of the Rings Calendar <in English> ==============
IC time is:    Early Evening
IC day is:     Tuesday
IC date is:    November 16
Moon phase:    Last Quarter <HIDDEN>
Earendil:      Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is:    Third Age 3048
RL time:        Wed Jan 06 16:01:16 2010

Herunnur's Porch
At any time of year this place is the special province of the stewards of the Last Homely House. They come from the kitchen, the stables and the grounds, and it is here that they share their most merry moments.Decorated to be comfortable after a long day of work, the porch is strewn with long and cushiony chairs. They are designed to look like enormous blossoms, so that the seated person is found nuzzled in the warm heart of a rose or a daisy. There are also tables with drink and food aplenty, for this porch finds itself directly next to the kitchen and is often the spot to discover the cooks' latest experiments in the culinary arts. All in all, this place is about comfort and relaxation for those who deserve it best.

Obvious exits:
 Small Door leads to Kitchen.
 Open Meadow leads to Open Meadow - Valley Path.

It is early evening, tea time perhaps, and here on the porch by the kitchens of Elrond's house emerges the young Squire from Dol Amroth. Dressed in a deep red tunic he is, with dark mouse-brown leggings and worn but well polished boots. Red, too, are a few welts on his arms, but his attention is given to holding open the porch door after he emerges, in eager anticipation, it would seem, for the one who is to come out next.


Nurenhir follows closely behind, carrying half a cake upon a rose-veined platter. "We are alone, I think." In the other hand he carries a teapot, and indicates for the squire to sit at a light table.



"We are, I think," Menelglir says with a quick glance about and a conspiratorial smile to the elf. "But if cake is so coveted even here, how did you manage to save half of it?" he asks, pulling up a chair and sitting.



Alone indeed they would seem, but not for long.

For lo! The young evening deepens suddenly as a familiar shadows looms from above, and the porch is assaulted with a descending winged shape and the blasts from its giant feathered arms. Something enormous and bronze colored this way comes.



Nurenhir smiles sweetly. "I managed to lure the children away with tart. Now," and he cuts Menelglir a large slice (it has a berry on top), "do help yourself. Oh, and," the steward turns towards the porch, calling, "Would you like some too?"


Something winged comes, and Menelglir, stooping to pick up his slice of cake, jumps--barely managing not to dump precious cake on the floor. He keeps the slice safe, however, giving a half bow to the eagle, the movement shortened by the necessity of balancing the cake."Tis too beautiful to eat," the Squire murmurs, even as he hesitantly puts fork to cake and cake to mouth

.A gasp.

The Squire settles into his chair again, staring at the cake and then--very very
slowly--eating it tiny bit by bit.

"Greetings," nods Sulgirion as he reaches out his blackened claws to perch himself upon the porch's railing. "Yes, I would gladly taste some again; it was very delicious the other day when I enjoyed some after dinner. Did you make this yourself, Master Elf?" Then the eagle looks to Menelglir, "But eating it is the best way to discover its true

Nurenhir smiles delicately, trying not to wince as the rail bends slightly. "Indeed, sir Eagle. I am afraid the children beat us to it, though. Will you accept the rest?" He pushes the plate towards Sulgirion.



A look is given to the raptor, but the Squire is enraptured by the cake it might seem, and whatever words he would otherwise have answered with are swallowed along with the elven sweet concoction. The cat, or in this case perhaps the eagle or elf cake, having gotten his tongue.


"I would, my friend," the large bird caws, before catching sight of the hintings of Nurenhir's wince. A pause as Sulgirion turns his head to see what the matter is. "Oh...my apologies," he says after peering downward. Shifting himself, he takes a careful step off of the warping railing and onto the porch, trying to give the other occupants enough room. "I, er..." the avian dips his head, bringing the beak up against the railing and attempts to
push it back into place. "Perhaps it would be better if I content myself with your treats instead."

The sky creature directs his attention on the plate, and proceeds to chomp at the half-cake with his hooked mouth; but his beak is not as suitable for this as a fork, and when he raises again, there seems to be more frosting on his face than on the tongue.

Nurenhir hides a chuckle behind his hand. "Excuse me, sir," he ventures, divesting a table of its tablecloth. "Allow me. I cannot imagine what cream and sugar will do to your feathers."



A tad embarrassed at this spectacle of the cake-covered eagle, Sulgirion swallows and attempts to clear some of the mess away with his tongue, but this proves not bery successful. "Yes, I think you had best do it, if you do not mind," he says to the steward, and the raptor lowers his head so that the elf can reach.


Wadding up the tablecloth to serve as an oversized napkin, the Elf cleans the frosting from the avian's face. "I suppose," he says straight-faced, "that forks will not do, either. I shall attempt to make firmer pastries next time."



Sulgirion's brighten to show his appreciation. "Ah, but it is still exceptionally wonderful baking, in any case. Have you had some of it, yourself?" he glances back to the dessert. "I do not want to eat it all and bereft you of its deliciousness." There is still an elven-sized portion of the cake remaining after the huge hole now missing.

His eyes blink suddenly, and he lowers his head again, delicately plucking a stray feather

out of the frosting.

"You are a generous guest," says the steward, picking up a fork. "If you like, I shall make more of this, and ask one of the cooks to feed it to you." He laughs helplessly at the stray feather, then places a forkful into his mouth, nearly
smearing his own face with the cream.

The bird cannot help but openly laugh at this. "Oh dear, perhaps this treat has a mind of its own to decorate the faces of those who wish to eat it! I would do the honors," he nods to the tablecloth, "but I think hands are better for cleaning such a mess, and not a hard beak."

Sulgirion tilts his head. "Feed it to me?" he repeats, flashing a look about as though searching for a hidden audience. "I don't suppose that is a common sight in this place; no doubt it will seem amusing to your people. A pity my talons are not more adapted to grasp your eating tools. But, very well. I look forward to it."



"Yes," says Nurenhir through a properly elf-sized napkin. Folding it, he looks to the Squire. "I would offer some more, but we have made short work of the plate already. I am sorry."



"Pity that," Menelglir says, sighing over his own empty plate, which he now sets aside. He looks to the eagle,as if only now seeing the remnants of frosting and the 'napkin,' and the young Squire chokes as he fights back a laugh. "Uh...what do eagles your size eat? Sir?" To Sulgirion, of course.

"You are finished with your own piece, I see," the eagle turns to Menelglir. "Mostly we hunt sheep, cattle, and other such larger livestock, youngling." A nod anew to the empty plate. "Despair not, for the generous elf assures that the cooks would happily prepare us more for later."


"Do you drink tea?" asks the steward of the Squire, and to a lesser part the Eagle, for surely the gold-rimmed teacups would be as a drop of water upon the great avian tongue.
Standing, he clears the plates.

"Tea, yes, we have that in Gondor," Menelglir smiles, leaning forward eagerly at the suggestion of it. "And I'm afraid that I will have to eat as much cake and the rest of the food as I can here. Cake, alas, does not travel well in a wagon or my saddlebag."



"Tea?" comes the questioning squawk. "A drink, if I remember right from my previous visits?" The eagle shakes his head. "I shall have to decline, for surely I would deplete Hir Elrond's stores of it. No, I would prefer some cool, refreshing water."



"Then I shall fetch it," Nurenhir says, to the sound of a whistling kettle inside the kitchen. "Oh, and draw some water... excuse me." He scurries away with a bow.



"Funny creatures elves, don't you think?" Menelglir says with a smile as Nurenhir hurries off. "So...mysterious in some ways and calm. I cannot quite find what it is about them. They are different than I expected. More approachable than I thought but less so, too."



"Curious creatures, indeed," remarks Sulgirion. "Mirthful and sorrowful, old and young, mysterious and understanding..." his voice fades into silence, thoughtful as he watches Nurenhir depart.



The slosh of water betrays the stewards re-entry, accompanied by his tea-tray and a metal basin. "I tried to find one that would fit your size," Nurenhir says breathlessly, rubbing his side. "Excuse me. This evening we have the rosehip tea, which had been served with peach-tart but, I am afraid, has already been supplanted by the cake. I shall pour."


"And yet the tarts were enough to lure elven children from the cake? They must be something
else indeed," Menelglir says, the thoughtful look on his face at the eagle's comments replaced momentarily by a smile. "Steward...can you tell me...just who is Hir Elrond? I know we came here to seek his counsel, so he must be wise. But I know nothing else. And the elves..you will forgive me, but your kind is mysterious to me."

The raptor looks down again as the steward returns with the water and tea. "Thank you," he
says, "I am sure it will suit me perfectly." While the eagle plunges his curved mouth into the metal basin to reach the refreshing water inside, Sulgirion remains quiet, listening as the squire asks his inquiry.


"Elrond?" Nurenhir smiles a little, a finger on the pot's lid as he pours for himself and the Squire. "He is indeed wise, and learned in many skills of the Elves. He was born while the world was young, and few of his kind are left on this hither shore. We take Gil-Estel as our sigil because it has played such a role in our history, but he is most dear to this star, and it to him."


"Do you usually drink from the rivers, then?" Menelglir asks, the sight of the great eagle
drinking drawing his attention and query. To the elf, he listens quietly and presses his lips together in thought for a moment. "Then what is Gil-Estel? To you and Hir Elrond? And if he is that old...then yes, I can see why we struggled our way here."


"My kind usually quench our thirst with the waters of the rivers, yes," replies Sulgirion after he swallows, the basin already nearing devoid of its contents. "But if that is not available, ponds or streams will serve just as well."

At the mentioning of Elrond, the eagle supplies, "The Master of the Valley is wise in his age, possessing knowlegde that is not hinted in his youthful countenance. You came here for counsel? I had not known this was the goal of your journey. It is good, for I do not doubt you will find your the answers you seek here, whatever they may be."


Quietly, Nurenhir sips his tea, sighing appreciatively at the aroma. "It was by Earendil's prayer that Beleriand was won; we call him the Star of Hope. And Elrond is Gil-Estel's kin."

"I had not known it was the goal of our journey either," the Squire explains to the eagle and elf. "Not until we reached our goal and we Squires were told," he says, referring to himself and Findon. "But so it is, and I wished to understand the why of it...." This is said as the Squire's voice fades and a look of wonder and mingled doubt is turned on the elf. "Hir Elrond is kin to..a star? Am I misunderstanding?"


There is an odd choking noise as Sulgirion coughs in surprise on the last of the water. "Kin to a star?" he laughs after recovering. "If would think not, Master Menelglir! Though he might seem to twinkle mayhap in the eyes of mortals. Such is the wonder and beauty of the Elven-folk."


"Would you like to know? You ought to ask him, should you find an audience with him."
Nurenhir smiles a little, then helps himself to more tea. "Perhaps he can tell you more of himself."



"We will have little time with Hir Elrond and my role will be but to sit and listen, I fear," Menelglir replies. "But I suppose if that is all you may say, then...I thank you."



Yawning, though now thoroughly refreshed, Sulgirion stretches his wings a little, drawing them back before they threaten to topple Man and Elf over. "Excuse me," the creature blinks, peeking a glance to the sky behind. "It is getting late, and think I will retire for the night. Good luck in your star-searching, little squire," his gaze averts back to the lad. "They will be coming out soon enough, if the clouds do not veil them."

To the steward he says, "I don't think I will eat more sweets tonight; perhaps another eve and I will see the advantage of forks. But for now, I dare not dine on cakes any further, tasty as it was. Surely, I would not be light enough to soar back to the tree afterward!" the avian laughs. "I wish you both a good night; may your eyries be soft and rest well."

And with a nod to each, he is gone, fading into the darkening sky.

"Good night," calls Nurenhir, smiling. "I ought to tidy this as well. Are you able to find the quarters on your own?"


[Menelglir(#17324)] "I can and thank you both for the food, the fight and the company," Menelglir responds. "I think I will sit here for a while. And wait for those stars."


[Nurenhir(#14756)]  With a bow, Nurenhir strides smoothly through the door.

Date added: 2010-01-07 09:17:47    Hits: 129
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