Categories > Books > Lord of the Rings > A Kitchen Disaster
Faramir tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for his beloved lady wife to arrive at the kitchens of Minas Tirith for her pre-arranged cooking lesson. Eowyn was the only woman he knew who didn't know how to cook. She didn't even WANT to know how to cook. In fact, she was perfectly happy with the way things were - with Faramir doing the cooking for both of them. How was he supposed to lead an enjoyable life if there wasn't his wife and a piping hot meal waiting at the table when he got home? Now that he thought about it, it was positively unfair that he had to cook their meals just because Eowyn didn't know how and she didn't want servants around their private quarters. Why-
His train of thought was interrupted by the abrupt arrival of his wife.
"You're late," noted Faramir critically.
"Well, who told YOU to be early?" she responded. He sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes.
"Let's just get down to business, shall we? Can you pluck a chicken?" Faramir questioned.
"Just how thick do you think I am?" snorted Eowyn.
"Do you really want me to answer that?"
"Yeah, why else would I have asked that!"
"You're getting off topic," Faramir informed her.
"WE, you mean."
"Just pluck the chicken... Please?" he pleaded.
"Sure," she smirked.
Faramir gave a sigh of relief. The next thing he knew, the floor was splattered with blood and feathers had stuck to the crimson liquid, creating a sort of carpet. He glanced at Eowyn just in time to see her jeweled dagger disappear up her sleeve. Mere moments later a bloodstain in the shape of her dagger appeared on the fabric of her sleeve. She stared at it, horror evident in her features. Faramir allowed himself a brief moment to snigger at the expression on her face before sighing loudly and severely reprimanding her.
"I thought I told you to pluck the chicken, not peel it?" Eowyn shrugged nonchalantly.
"Fine, then. If you can't pluck a chicken then crack these eggs into this pan and fry them!"
"It would be my pleasure," replied Eowyn, smiling in a way that could only be described as evil. Faramir fidgeted uneasily before turning his back to inspect the other cooking utensils. The moment he did, he felt an egg impact the back of his head. More eggs followed soon after, striking his torso and occasionally the wall. Faramir whirled around a little too fast and slipped slightly in a puddle of blood. Before he could regain his footing, Eowyn brought the pan down hard on his rump. Faramir gave a yelp of shock as his feet slid out from under him and he landed unceremoniously in a heap on the floor. Meanwhile, Eowyn sneaked out of the room and returned seconds later with King Elessar in tow. Aragorn took in the scene in a glance and doubled over in poorly disguised peals of laughter. Faramir picked himself up and fixed them both with a lethal glare filled with deadly promise, his face burning with humiliation.
"Valar, you've totally wrecked this kitchen! The cooks will not be pleased. How could you, Faramir!"
"I didn't do it, Eowyn did! I was teaching her to cook and-"
"QUIET!!! Has no one ever told you not to shift the blame of what you have done onto someone else? Clean that mess up!"
"But-"
"No buts! CLEAN IT UP!!!"
"Yes my lord," replied Faramir meekly, inwardly seething with rage. They had planned this! How DARE they! Why, this was nothing other than conspiracy! As Eowyn and Aragorn exited the filthy kitchen, he could have sworn he heard them laughing.
His train of thought was interrupted by the abrupt arrival of his wife.
"You're late," noted Faramir critically.
"Well, who told YOU to be early?" she responded. He sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes.
"Let's just get down to business, shall we? Can you pluck a chicken?" Faramir questioned.
"Just how thick do you think I am?" snorted Eowyn.
"Do you really want me to answer that?"
"Yeah, why else would I have asked that!"
"You're getting off topic," Faramir informed her.
"WE, you mean."
"Just pluck the chicken... Please?" he pleaded.
"Sure," she smirked.
Faramir gave a sigh of relief. The next thing he knew, the floor was splattered with blood and feathers had stuck to the crimson liquid, creating a sort of carpet. He glanced at Eowyn just in time to see her jeweled dagger disappear up her sleeve. Mere moments later a bloodstain in the shape of her dagger appeared on the fabric of her sleeve. She stared at it, horror evident in her features. Faramir allowed himself a brief moment to snigger at the expression on her face before sighing loudly and severely reprimanding her.
"I thought I told you to pluck the chicken, not peel it?" Eowyn shrugged nonchalantly.
"Fine, then. If you can't pluck a chicken then crack these eggs into this pan and fry them!"
"It would be my pleasure," replied Eowyn, smiling in a way that could only be described as evil. Faramir fidgeted uneasily before turning his back to inspect the other cooking utensils. The moment he did, he felt an egg impact the back of his head. More eggs followed soon after, striking his torso and occasionally the wall. Faramir whirled around a little too fast and slipped slightly in a puddle of blood. Before he could regain his footing, Eowyn brought the pan down hard on his rump. Faramir gave a yelp of shock as his feet slid out from under him and he landed unceremoniously in a heap on the floor. Meanwhile, Eowyn sneaked out of the room and returned seconds later with King Elessar in tow. Aragorn took in the scene in a glance and doubled over in poorly disguised peals of laughter. Faramir picked himself up and fixed them both with a lethal glare filled with deadly promise, his face burning with humiliation.
"Valar, you've totally wrecked this kitchen! The cooks will not be pleased. How could you, Faramir!"
"I didn't do it, Eowyn did! I was teaching her to cook and-"
"QUIET!!! Has no one ever told you not to shift the blame of what you have done onto someone else? Clean that mess up!"
"But-"
"No buts! CLEAN IT UP!!!"
"Yes my lord," replied Faramir meekly, inwardly seething with rage. They had planned this! How DARE they! Why, this was nothing other than conspiracy! As Eowyn and Aragorn exited the filthy kitchen, he could have sworn he heard them laughing.
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