Hello there, hello again if you've read the other part of DOME, (go ahead and pronounce it like the architectural thing, I don't care, it's what I do anyway) if not, not to worry! The parts are unrelated. (Also this is a Lord of the Rings fanfic, if you haven't read or at least watched that, don't bother with this and go do that) This one's about Merry and Pippin in Minas Tirith, after Aragorn's crowning. (yes it has a pie for the thumbnail. and?) No warnings whatsoever, and as there's nothing else I need to say, enjoy! “They’ll never know what hit them,” Merry whispered. “Yes, unless you get yourself /seen/ again,” Pippin pointed out in a hushed tone. “May I just note that it was /your/ fault we were caught last time?” the other hobbit muttered annoyedly. The two were sneaking into the Minas Tirith kitchens in search of pies, as they’d been doing for a week now, ever since Aragorn had been crowned. “Nonsense!” hissed the indignant halfling. Merry shushed him, indicating they had come to the stone hallway one of the back doors to the kitchens opened to, and within earshot. No one but themselves were around the door, so it might have been harder for them to sneak in, as most times before they’d come in quickly behind someone else, but for the fact it was the dead of night, and there were only a few tired cooks working in the kitchen, so they weren’t bound to notice the two hobbits. Though of course, that was one of the advantages of being small: you’re much harder to notice, especially hiding behind or under a counter. These two were planning on slipping in fast, grabbing a pie or two, or whatever else there was, and sneaking out before they were noticed. They’d also dressed like young boys, as it wouldn’t look good for two knights to be stealing pies from the royal kitchens, now would it? But young boys were a different matter. If they were seen like this, they'd probably be yelled out and kicked out without too much further comment. Hopefully. They weren’t actually entirely sure if there was anyone /in/ the kitchens, and if there weren’t it would make a rather disappointing end to their scheming, as there wouldn’t be any pies, but this doubt was dispelled as soon as they got a bit closer and heard a few cooks puttering around inside, preparing for breakfast though it was only a few hours past midnight. Finally at the door, which had been a bit hard to see in the very dimly torch-lit corridor, the hobbits stopped. Pippin put an ear to the door to see if there was anyone directly on the other side. When he didn’t hear anything too close, he stepped back, opened the door slightly, and the two hobbits slipped in quickly. They closed the door quietly behind them and ducked under a nearby counter, which was luckily covered with a tablecloth, which draped over the side quite nicely. From under the table, the two hobbits looked for tasties. The royal kitchen was much brighter than the corridor had been, with chandeliers above, candles spaced out on the counters, and furnaces along one side of the room. There were four cooks in the room, going about their tasks, and the hobbits, having keen eyes in such matters, saw that one of them was making pies, and there were two trays of them already in the furnaces. None of them had come out yet, though, so the halflings would have to wait. This they did, though, for the sake of pies. Eventually, their patience was rewarded, when the cook who had been making pies went over to the furnace with the pies in them and removed one of the trays, placing it on a table not far from where Merry and Pippin were hiding.. It was full of steaming-hot apple pies. The hobbits’ mouths watered, but they controlled their desire, and waited for the pies to cool a little bit. As soon as they deemed them ready, and the cooks were all busy, the hobbits crept out of their hiding place and over to the pies. They noticed that a few of them were missing, though they’d kept their eyes riveted on the tray all while they waited, and were sure no one had come near them. Then they grabbed one each and dodged towards the door, slipping out with nothing but two missing pies to betray that they’d ever been there.
It continues below, if you've finished the first bit Back in the hallway, the halflings were sneaking in silence to the door to the outside, when a hand reached out from the shadows behind the hobbits and grabbed Merry, who was carrying the pies now, by the back of his shirt. The hobbit fought the urge to scream, as he might yet get out of the situation alive and with the pies if he kept his calm. Pippin was also grabbed, held fast by a different hand, belonging to someone behind him. “What, exactly, O hobbits, are you doing sneaking through my halls in the dead of night with food from my kitchens in your hands?” asked the voice of King Elessar. Both hobbits were spun around to face the man, and the hands holding them were released, though neither dared to run. “Strider!” exclaimed Merry. “Er- my king. Didn’t see you there.” “Ought to be called Sneaker,” put in Pippin helpfully. “Shut up Pip,” whispered Merry out of the corner of his mouth. Then he turned his attention back to the king. “So, you see, we were- we were…” he stumbled, trying to think of an excuse. “We were taking these pies to you!” Pippin interrupted. Aragorn raised an eyebrow. “But,” the hobbit continued, “Seeing as Elladan and Elrohir there already seem to have plenty, and appear to be with you, it doesn’t appear that you’ll be needing these, so Merry and I can have them for ourselves, yes?” The other sons of Elrond were, indeed, behind Aragorn, all four of their collective hands holding a pie. So that was where the missing ones had gone. Legolas, the one who had been holding Pippin, burst out laughing. “Looks like it’s us who’ve been caught this time, eh? Serves you right, stealing pies from your own kitchen.” Aragorn glared at him. Pippin raised a hand. “I’m sorry, does that mean the King of Gondor, the Prince of Mirkwood, and the noble sons of Lord Elrond have been /stealing pies/ from-” Aragorn cut him off with a sigh, then dropped down to the hobbits’ level. “Listen, I’ll make a deal with you. You tell /no one./ Especially not my father or any other Gondorians. And none of us will either. No one needs to know where those missing pies went, understood?” Pippin smiled mischeviuosly. (Never, ever spell that word correctly.) “I mean, if the King of Gondor himself is so eager-” “I could also have you thrown in the dungeons,” added Aragorn. “Deal.” A sentry a few minutes later, passing the gardens, saw the six of them laughing and eating pies together around (or in) a tree. He wisely chose not to comment.
