Table Manners

(Disclaimer: These characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate and New Line Cinema. No infringement is intended. This fanfiction is intended solely for amusement and not for any profit of any kind.)

OK, so this is not a TRUE drabble, but it is short and (I think) funny. --Eruanna

Haldir and Eowyn were the picture of wedded bliss. They sat in the Meduseld at the high table, seated to the right of Eomer King. Every so often, one of the pair would grasp at the hand of the other and raise it to the lips.

“Yes, Haldir would make a splendid if unusual Fourth Marshal of the Mark,” mused Eomer to himself as he quaffed his goblet of mead. He wanted his sister happy, and this strange elf-man, so common and humble, yet virtuous and valiant, seemed to give her that happiness. He was happy at this love match and looked forward to his own impending wedding to Lothiriel, the radiant daughter of Prince Imrahil, who sat to his left.

Eowyn, looking so unlike the bold Dernhelm in her flowing damask gown and blue veil, looked down at her hand clasped within Haldir’s. His fair, strong fingers pressed hers as he, too, admired the slender bands of gold on their right index fingers—the wedding bands of the elvenfolk.

The evening meal was about to be served and the kitchen servants attended the high table, setting large centerpieces filled with colorful blossoms of the early spring before the king and his kinsmen. Eomer reached forward and plucked a rich red bloom and inhaled its scent, looking over the blossom into the eyes of Lothiriel, who returned a coquettish smile.

Taking this as a sign from the king, Haldir reached over and also plucked a red blossom, placing it into his mouth and commenced chewing. Eowyn, aghast, leaned toward her fair husband and whispered, “My love and lord, that is the centerpiece, not the appetizer.”