Fic: ‘Tis the Season: Lists and plans, oh my!
Title: ‘Tis the Season: Lists and plans, oh my!
Fandom: Middle-earth
Rating: (G)
Time Period: Between the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings.
Summary: Quick decisions are made.
Author's Note: This is quick ‘n’ dirty (for definition see the F. A. Q.).
I'd suggest having some kind of food nearby, just in case. I do have popcorn!
Disclaimer
All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of JRR Tolkien, the Tolkien Estate and the Tolkien Trust & Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, Philippa Boyens & Guillermo del Toro (their interpretations); I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by them.
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He knows how the table will look. The breads there, the meats here, the cooked vegetables in the corner there while he should put the fish over here; it'd definitely look better. The cheeses should be over there on their platters here.
There's a small pause as he looks at the list in hand. He has to direct where the tables and chairs shall be. Which pickled foods should be gotten from the cellar where they're kept. Oh! The salads and boiled eggs. The raw vegetables.
Then he scurries to the kitchen where the chicken is now cooking. He turns the chicken and throws his mind back to the list. He knows he's forgotten something from it but for the life of the turkey lost earlier that day, he can't remember what it is.
A knock at the door and off he runs to let in the dwarv---
All the dwarves are found: those newly come to his hole and those who've been there for some days. His hands on his hips, list dangling from one hand, he looks from one to the other. Young, some of them are; he knows them well enough and a small voice in the back of his mind whispers: you know dwarves so very well.
“Right,” he begins, “I wanted to say hello and welcome to my home.
“I'm very glad many of you stayed on but!” He holds up a stern finger. “If anyone touches the food before my guests arrive?
“May a very bad doom visit you all and your families!”
“How bad?”
He turns to the young dwarf who'd ventured to ask. “A very bad doom! It could be,” he pauses dramatically, “a dragon!”
Two young Hobbits withdraw, further under a tablecloth. Whispering is the decided volume of their voices; they were spying, weren't they? “A pie, Pip?”
Pippin nods. “Let's go!”
Fandom: Middle-earth
Rating: (G)
Time Period: Between the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings.
Summary: Quick decisions are made.
Author's Note: This is quick ‘n’ dirty (for definition see the F. A. Q.).
I'd suggest having some kind of food nearby, just in case. I do have popcorn!
Disclaimer
All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of JRR Tolkien, the Tolkien Estate and the Tolkien Trust & Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, Philippa Boyens & Guillermo del Toro (their interpretations); I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by them.
_______________________
He knows how the table will look. The breads there, the meats here, the cooked vegetables in the corner there while he should put the fish over here; it'd definitely look better. The cheeses should be over there on their platters here.
There's a small pause as he looks at the list in hand. He has to direct where the tables and chairs shall be. Which pickled foods should be gotten from the cellar where they're kept. Oh! The salads and boiled eggs. The raw vegetables.
Then he scurries to the kitchen where the chicken is now cooking. He turns the chicken and throws his mind back to the list. He knows he's forgotten something from it but for the life of the turkey lost earlier that day, he can't remember what it is.
A knock at the door and off he runs to let in the dwarv---
All the dwarves are found: those newly come to his hole and those who've been there for some days. His hands on his hips, list dangling from one hand, he looks from one to the other. Young, some of them are; he knows them well enough and a small voice in the back of his mind whispers: you know dwarves so very well.
“Right,” he begins, “I wanted to say hello and welcome to my home.
“I'm very glad many of you stayed on but!” He holds up a stern finger. “If anyone touches the food before my guests arrive?
“May a very bad doom visit you all and your families!”
“How bad?”
He turns to the young dwarf who'd ventured to ask. “A very bad doom! It could be,” he pauses dramatically, “a dragon!”
Two young Hobbits withdraw, further under a tablecloth. Whispering is the decided volume of their voices; they were spying, weren't they? “A pie, Pip?”
Pippin nods. “Let's go!”