“You have been called here,” said Aragorn, “because we have finally come to a decision as to who should hold the position of King’s Taster.”

Frodo looked round.  There had been many applicants, far and wide, he knew, and yet the only people who had been called to this rather informal setting were part of the Company that had set forth from Rivendell.  Surely Aragorn had not chosen Pippin—or Merry?

“The Lord Steward and I have read many letters of interest, including some by those ineligible to serve—whether because they are sworn to another King or because they reside over a thousand leagues from here.”

To his credit, Pippin only flinched a little at the glare directed his way.

“This has led us to reconsider the matter of the King’s Taster entirely.  It is clear that we must have someone we trust for the job, and, more importantly, one who has not stooped to petty tricks to get to this position.  Accordingly, we have chosen someone who did not apply for the position in the first place.”

Frodo could see Pippin biting his lip.  He was so glad his cousin had learned enough of court etiquette not to talk out of turn, but he could practically see the words: They weren’t petty tricks!

Aragorn smiled.  “Be at peace, Pippin.  If I were truly angry with you, we would be having this conversation in the throne room.”

“Then,” said Pippin, “who have you chosen?”

“It occurred to us,” said Aragorn, “that a good king does not risk his men’s lives for the sake of himself, but rather for the sake of his people.  Thus, the King’s Taster should also be less likely to fall ill or die from an attempt on my life.”

Frodo’s gaze immediately flicked over to Gandalf.  Somehow he doubted the wizard could be harmed by a normal poison…

“Yes, Gimli, Glóin’s son, a trusted ally, and friend, with the iron stomach of his kind.  It has long been known that dwarves are hardier of heart, and of stomach, than Men, even one of the Dúnedain.”

“Given the little I have experienced of the fare at Erebor,” Legolas remarked from the corner, “I can well believe it.”

Gimli rose, perhaps a little too gruffly, as he jostled Legolas along the way.  “And why should I accept this honor?”

“That is an excellent question,” said Aragorn.  “Aside from ‘you are less likely to die than many I know,’ you are surely aware that it will strengthen the ties between your people and the Reunited Kingdoms.  Have no fear, though—you need not stay with me wherever I go.  The lords Elladan and Elrohir have agreed to remain here for some time, and I plan—and indeed, had planned, from the start—to rely on them if the official taster was not available.  The King’s Taster is, happily, less a required position for me than for other men, but, since it has existed for a long time, and has held an important purpose in Gondor’s politics, I saw no reason to discontinue its use.”

“Huh,” Frodo heard Pippin say.  “I guess you could have gone for it after all, Merry.”

The notion that Dwarves are especially resistant to poison is lifted wholesale out of Dungeons and Dragons mythology.  Such cherrypicking seemed ripe for this sort of diversion.