Originally posted in LJ March 09.

So. I tried to stray from the path of humor onto darker, less trodden paths.

It failed miserably.

Halbarad stared at the shapeless, brownish-grey blob in front of him. He was rather sure it had just moved; he wouldn't be surprised if it somehow came alive. Beside the grey thing was his cousin, who was looking at it worriedly.

"Perhaps I didn't cook it long enough," he muttered.

"Did you cook it at all?" asked Halbarad incredulously. "It is completely limp! And why is it grey?"

"It's not grey, it's brown, and that is the color it is supposed to be." Aragorn glanced at it once more, and then looked expectantly at Halbarad. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to try it?"

The Dúnadan looked as if he was just asked to jump into Mount Doom. "Do you wish me dead, Aragorn? Of course I won't!"

The other Dúnadan frowned. "I spent a lot of time making it, you know."

"I appreciate the gesture, truly, but I have no desire to spend the next week violently ill."

"You do not need to exaggerate, Halbarad. It doesn't look that bad."

"Really? Well then, how about you share it with me? I simply could not indulge myself while you stand around."

"Don't be ridiculous. It's your birthday, and the cake is all yours."

"This thing is not a cake, Aragorn. Look!" He let out a shrill whistle, and his hound came barreling into the room, tail wagging. The dog soon spotted the blob and took one sniff before leaving the room in disgust.

"That was not necessary," the other man glared at his cousin.

"Anything Huan does not eat I will not," said Halbarad firmly. "If my sons were here they would agree with me."

"Do not bring the whole family into this!" said Aragorn. "This is the last time I do anything for you, Cousin."

Halbarad rolled his eyes. "There is no need to be offended. You simply cannot bake to save your life."

Aragorn took the thing off of the table. "I'll bring it to your wife and sister. I'm sure they'll enjoy it, if you will not."

"Mireth and Lothwen will take one look at that thing and laugh you out of the house!" Halbarad called after him. Aragorn did not respond to him as he left the small home. "Stubborn mule," he muttered. The man glanced at the table, and saw that part of the cake-blob had fallen onto it. He tentatively picked it up, glanced at it in disgust, and then threw it into the fire with a shudder.

Within a few minutes Aragorn was back, his face deceptively blank as he joined Halbarad at the table. He waited expectedly for his chieftain to speak, but the other man was content to remain silent.

"Well? What did my wife and sister say?" Halbarad asked.

"They did not see it."

"Then where is your creation?"

"I gave it to the pigs. They mistook it as mud."

He looked at his cousin sympathetically. "Well, I'm sure they appreciate it."

"You are not helping the matter, Halbarad."

"I never meant to."

Aragorn glanced at the other man, and his stoic expression cracked. He chuckled and shook his head. "I haven't baked a cake in over fifty years, you know, and the last time I had Elrond's cooks to help."

"I figured," Halbarad shrugged. "Mireth and Lothwen are making something that I expect both you and I will enjoy, if that is any comfort."

"It is a great comfort, Cousin. Too rarely do we enjoy their meals- and I appreciate that they include me."

"You are our chieftain," Halbarad said, "but you are also family. My sister will never look at you as anything but her older cousin who needs feeding when he's around."

"I would have Lothwen look at me no other way," Aragorn smiled. "Come, let us join the women and see if they need any help."

"I am not sure they'd want you helping if they saw that thing you made," Halbarad pointed out as he stood.

"I can cook other things just fine," Aragorn retorted.

The other man shrugged. "I suppose. In the end, I'm sure that your creation was breathing."

"Now you're exaggerating."

"I swear upon my blade that it breathed!"

The two continued to banter good-naturedly as they left the house as only two kinsmen can do, content that the most pressing matter at that point of time was the true nature of a blob that pretended to be a cake.