Fine Dinings
“Master Gamgee, Gondor and the world is greatly indebted to you,” Lady Emlin cooed, fluttering her fan.
“We have heard great repute of your skills in the kitchen,” Lady Tuilinn interjected, “and being purveyors of the finest fare, we simply had to come see if the rumors were true.”
Sam was wide-eyed. What were these fine ladies coming to wait on him for? He was surrounded by four, wrapped in silk and perfume and impeccable manners.
“I have heard rumors of a famous roast chicken—” Lady Emlin chattered happily.
“Oh, but I am on a strictly no-meat diet,” Lady Niphredil said with a gasp. “I couldn’t—”
“Do forgive me, Niphri. It slipped my mind.”
“Or a lovely, home baked loaf?” said Lady Brennil hopefully.
“Renn, you know I am not to have breads, for my figure!” Tuilinn scolded. “For shame!”
“You change your eating habits twice in a fortnight, Linn: how am I to keep track?”
“We could simply have a nice, wholesome meal of spiced fruits; I am sure Master Gamgee can accomplish that,” Lady Niphredil said with authority.
“For the sake of Elbereth, Niphri! You know I cannot have spices: what it does to my complexion, I shall not say…!”
“Perhaps some of those elfish wafers, then…”
Shaking his head, Sam back up and crept out of the kitchen. Once safely in the hallway, he exhaled. Fine ladies. They were mighty fair to look on, but none of ‘em had a grain of good, solid hobbit-sense.
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March 3, 2005. Written for Annmarwalk: vegetarian cooking.