"Ai Elbereth, Estel!" the cooks voice echoed through Imladris' kitchen.

The boy tried to shrink further into his hiding place, a storage room, lined with shelves made of rough wood.

"Is there a problem?" Elrond asked.

"Just look!" the cook replied. "He ruined the icing on the cakes. And that with all the guests around." The cook heaved a sigh. "I love him dearly, but there are times ..."

"Where did he go?"

What passed between the cook and his father was lost to Estel, but a moment later a hand touched his shoulder. "Estel? We need to talk!" Elrond said.

A/N: More instant drabble silliness. My response to the words Elbereth, icing, rough, love and touch.

fliewatuet
Posted: 2005-05-01