Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings.
And special thanks go to Mina to going over the story with me to get out the kinks. You rock, Mina!
The Fellowship decided to stop for the night to rest and, more importantly, eat. They all put down their burdens and collapsed onto them, with the exception of Legolas, who hadn't even broken into a sweat over the day's brutal excursions.
"I'm starved." Pippin said. "What's for dinner?"
"Uh…" The rest of the Fellowship said. They hadn't had the forethought to work out who would be cooking during their journey.
"Well," Gandalf said, "does anybody feel like cooking?"
"No." Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Merry, Pippin, Frodo, and Boromir flatly said at the same time.
"Oh! I'll do it!" Sam said, raising his hand, eagerly.
"Anybody at all?" Gandalf asked, oblivious to all of the Fellowship members' inputs.
"Oh! Me! Pick me!" Sam said, raising his hand higher.
"Come on, somebody here has to know how to cook!" Gandalf exclaimed, folding his arms crossly, oblivious to his surroundings as usual.
"FOR THE LOVE OF TATERS, PICK ME!" Sam yelled, his face turning red with the fury of having to deal with a nitwit like Gandalf.
Gandalf faced Sam. "Did you say something, Samwise?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.
Sam took several deep breaths and regained his composure. "I said that I would be more than delighted to cook the evening meal, Gandalf, sir."
"It's settled then!" Gandalf exclaimed, rubbing his hands together. "So what will we be having?"
All at once, the members of the Fellowship, except for Frodo, Gandalf, and Sam yelled out what they wanted for dinner.
"Apples, bread, and soup!" Merry yelled.
"Lembas!" Legolas said with a smile. Elves never yell.
"Food!" Aragorn and Boromir shouted, both being indifferent.
"Salted pork!" Gimli bellowed.
"Anything that can be killed, cut up, and thrown into a stew!" Pippin yelled at the end of the clamor with a mad glint in his eyes, looking at Sam in an odd way. Sam looked nervous and edged away from Pippin. The rest of the Fellowship gave Pippin a long stare.
"What? I'm hungry! And when I'm hungry, I do things!" Pippin said. Everyone edged away from him now.
"I'm not sleeping anywhere near you tonight." Boromir commented.
"Yes, let's tie up the little scoundrel for the night. That way, he can't get to any of us." Gimli added in.
"People, people! Let's focus here!" Aragorn yelled before anything got too off-topic. "So what are we going to eat tonight?"
Before anyone could cut in, Sam got up from where he was sitting. "I don't take no requests!" He said. "You eat what I make. Is that clear?"
"Uh…" The rest of the Fellowship, except for Pippin, said.
"You die first." Pippin muttered to Sam, who squealed and ran off to go gather ingredients for his meal.
Sam had made a small fire and was now making a stew in the middle of a ring of rather bored Fellowship members.
"Is it done yet?" Boromir asked in a bored tone of voice, not even looking at the stew pot Sam was tending to.
"No! So quit asking!" Sam snapped, slightly twitching.
"How 'bout now? Is it done now?" Boromir asked partly to tick off the Hobbit and partly to goad him into finishing the stew quicker.
"It'll be done when it's been simmering for 44 minutes, 11 seconds, and 15 milliseconds!" Sam snapped back. "Now quit asking!"
"Did you just make that number up?" Merry asked.
"No! It's in this cookbook I own! It's my most coveted possession!" Sam stuck the book in Merry's nose. "See? It says: constantly stir stew counterclockwise at a simmer for 44 minutes, 11 seconds, and 15 milliseconds!"
"Okay, okay! I believe you!" Merry said, shoving Sam's book out of his face.
"Good!" Sam said.
"So, how much time has it been, Sam?" Frodo asked.
"43 minutes, 13 seconds, and 1 millisecond, give or take." Sam replied.
"So what if it doesn't cook for that extra minute or two!" Boromir exclaimed. "Just take it off and let us eat already! I'm starving!"
"Besides," Aragorn said, "it's not like we'd get food poisoning or die or something if we ate it when it didn't cook for the full time."
Sam twitched. "But that would be breaking the rules set by my cookbook! And the rules cannot be broken. The rules are law." Sam said in a zombie-like voice.
"Hey, Sam, can I see that book?" Pippin asked.
"What are you going to do to it?" Sam asked, holding the sacred cookbook to his chest.
"I'm just really fascinated, that's all." Pippin said innocently.
"Well… okay." Sam said, handing Pippin the cookbook and then getting back to stirring the stew in a counterclockwise motion.
Pippin looked at the title and read it aloud, "A Stupid Fat Hobbit's Guide to Cooking." He leafed through it for a moment and then began to eat it, ripping pages out and sticking them into his mouth.
Sam clutched his hands to his heart as if Pippin had fatally wounded him. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" He yelled. "MY PRECIOUSSSSSSSSS!"
Pippin chuckled as he chewed the book to a pulp.
"Hey, Boromir." Aragorn said to him as Sam twitched on the ground.
"What?"
"I dare you to do a taste-test."
"Sure." Boromir said with an evil grin, rubbing his hands together. He started to walk over to the stew pot. He extended a finger towards the stew. Slowly, his finger headed for the stew.
Sam suddenly stopped twitching. He sat up, eyes wide and alert. He saw the culprit-to-be, the one who would ruin his perfect stew. He slapped Boromir's hand away. "Now don't you be doin' that!" He snapped. "You'd be ruinin' my perfect stew with your dirty fingers!"
Boromir looked at his hands. "They're not that dirty. See?" He showed his hands to Sam.
"Well," Sam said, "there are tiny things all over your hands." Boromir looked insulted, drew back his hands, and looked closely at them.
"I don't see anything." He muttered.
"Well, of course you can't! They're micro-organisms. They collect on your hands no matter how many times you wash them. If you put your finger in the stew, they'd soil it! Even my hands are not fit to touch the holy stew!"
"Whoa! My head hurts!" Boromir said, putting his hand to his forehead. "You use big words I can't understand, like Faramir always does! And I don't like that!"
Sam snickered. Then, he looked at the stew and smiled. "It's done!"
"Finally!" All of the Fellowship exclaimed and began to crowd around the stew pot. But before they could dig in, Sam held his hand up.
"Wait a moment!" He said. "Let's just take a moment to appreciate the stew! Marvel at its beauty. Look at it not as the next meal that will sustain you for one more day, but as a work of art. Admire the golden taters cut into perfect cubes." The Fellowship's mouths began to water.
"Look at the meat," Sam continued, "freshly killed and cooked and in perfect ratio to the taters." Pippin groaned in longing.
"Look at all of the other vegetables." Sam ranted. "Admire all of the other ingredients. Luxuriate as the aroma takes you in." This was too much for the Fellowship being tantalized by the divine stew and not being able to obtain it.
"LET'S EAT!" Pippin bellowed.
All at once, the Fellowship trampled Sam and began to heap huge amounts of stew into their bowls. They then voraciously consumed their meal.
Sam got up after being trampled and looked into the stew pot. "You could at least have saved some for me!"
They all turned to look at Sam, their mouths full of the stew.
Nari: So what did you think? Good? Bad? A horrific piece that should be burned? Please tell me and leave lots of reviews!