Peeling Potatoes

“A fine mess you got me into,” Legolas growled.

“Ochh! Don’t put the blame on me,” Gimli growled. “Now get peeling. The quicker we get finished, the quicker we can get back to the party.”

“I cannot,” Legolas whispered.

“What did you say?” Gimli looked up. “Look lad, it’s your fault we’re here, so I suggest you do me a favour and get started.”

“I said I cannot. My . . .hands are sore . . .”

“You can and you will.”

“I have never peeled potatoes before.”

Gimli stared at him in surprise and grumbled wordlessly. “You elves are all the same. Lazy . . .”

“I am not lazy . . .”

“Spoilt . . .”

“I am not spoilt!”

“Opinionated . . .”

“I am not . . .”

“Self-centred . . .”

“Not . . .”

“Arrogant . . .”

“Not . . .!”

“And . . . good for nothing . . .”

“I am not good for nothing . . .!”

“You’re a prince. What good is a prince? Answer me that?!”

“I am . . .” Legolas bristled with anger, but could not think of anything to reply. “What about dwarfs?” he scoffed. “You are good for nothing but digging in the dirt,” he sneered. “You are as low as dirt, beneath the dirt . . .always hiding in your slimy holes, never taking a bath, never caring for anyone except yourselves.”

Gimli glared at him, grinding his teeth.

“You are pitiful . . .”

Gimli growled.

“Selfish . . .”

“I . . .”

“Ignorant . . .”

“I . . .”

“Egotistical . . .”

“I . . .”

“Abominable . . .”

“Now, that’s getting low . . .”

“Lowlife chicken droppings . . .”

“Now, wait just a minute . . .”

“No better than to step on and crush into the dirt!”

Gimli gazed at him, with nothing to add or change. “At least I can peel potatoes!”

Legolas looked at the potato peeler and sighed, not willing to admit he didn’t know how to peel potatoes, even when Gimli seemed to have realised it already. “This is all your fault!”

Gimli blurted out, “I was happy to simply sing for the king. You’re the one who had to drink yourself into a hobbit-sized inebriation!”

“I was not drunk!!” Legolas retorted.

“You were too. No one dances like that unless they have a poker stuck up their . . .”

“I was not dancing. You knocked me into the fire.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t taken my ale.”

“Well, I would not have taken your ale if you had not taken my dinner”

“I wouldn’t have needed to take your dinner, if you hadn’t taken mine!”

“I did not take your dinner, you took my seat!”

“I wouldn’t have needed to if you hadn’t moved the bench.”

“I would not have had to if you had not moved the table up against the roof column.”

“I moved it there because you miscounted the number of guests.”

“I miscounted?! It was your fault I miscounted, because you called me away to tend to your blistered feet.”

“You wouldn’t have had to if I hadn’t had to walk.”

“You would not have had to walk, if you had just got back on the horse!”

“I would have if you hadn’t taken up so much space on the horse.”

“I wouldn’t have taken so much room on the horse if you had left that keg of ale at Isengard.”

“I wouldn’t have needed the keg if you had not boasted about the salted pork you brought back.”

“You started that, you took a whole bundle of pipe weed.”

“And you got me soaked.”

“You were the one fidgeting on the horse.”

“You told it to bolt!”

“Well, I would not have done that if you had not pinched my rear and given me a fright.”

“I did not pinch your rear!”

“Yes, you did and I have bruises to prove it.”

Gimli grumbled. “I did not pinch your rear, Legolas. Even if I had wanted to, that would have been stupid of me, wouldn’t it? Because, believe it or not, I hate being on a horse for the precise reason that I fall off them . . .regularly! And pinching your behind would mean me falling off . . .first. Not very logical, is it?”

Legolas looked at him, realisation hitting him. “If you did not pinch my rear . . .then that means . . .”

“We’ve been arguing for nothing all damn day,” Gimli finished quietly, throwing the potato to the floor in disgust.

“No . . .well, yes, but it also means someone else pinched me. And, I have been taken for a fool.”

Gimli raised his eyes. “We’ve both been taken for fools, Princeling.”

“Just wait until I get my hands on the scheming orc!”

“Get in line. I’m the one who fell for it first.”

“I was pinched.”

“I got soaked because of that rascal.”

“I had to smell your rancid feet!”

“I ended up with no dinner!”

“Well, I have burned boots!”

Gimli growled. “We’re doing it again, you nincompoop!”

Legolas fell silent. “We are,” he realised, lowering his voice to a whisper. “And someone is laughing at us, right now.”

Gimli eyed the dark walls of the buildings around them. “Is he watching us?” he replied, matching the elf’s example.

Legolas looked around him, listening. “No, but he can hear us, and I believe I know who it is.”

Later, in the dark of night, a cry rose from the guest rooms as a certain king-to-be shot from his smouldering bed to sink, rump first, into a horse trough. Ice cold water lapped around his body as he lay there. Two snickers retired to bed gratified with their night’s work.

El fin.

P.S. Thank you for the all the wonderful responses to Peeling Potatoes. I have to admit laughing myself to tears writing it.

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