Cloves and Apples
Jan. 21st, 2005 09:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brainofckOnce upon a time, uisgich, (a major foodie, who it is this author's vague recollection had a catering business in her former life), asked ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
muck_a_luck (who in a previous incarnation ran a co-operative kitchen for 150 people), to provide her recipe for Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Muffins.
After idle LJ-type chatter between their icons, manly men Maj. Richard Sharpe and Boromir, Son of Gondor, Uisgich wrote Gondorian Muffins (and blamed me), Asparagus!, and Sweet Meat.
Then, weirdly, Muck-a-luck, who had always denied that she would ever post any fiction,as all her attempts at porn have sucked, and not in a good way as none of it is worthy to post anywhere, was overcome with the need to write food!angst, inspired by the above-referenced series.
So, behind the cut, please find my first ever fiction post, approximately a double drabble.
Thanks to Uisgich for the beta.
Love to you all!
CK
Title: Cloves and Apples
Author:muck_a_luck
Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir
Rating: Hard G (*snortle*)
Summary: Strider struggles with his recently-acquired food obsessions
Content/warnings: A little schmoopy. (I'm quite embarrassed.) A little angsty.
Spoilers: None, though asuisgich points out, not in conflict with book canon
Disclaimers: These characters belong to JRR Tolkien and his heirs and assigns. I have no right to use them, mean no disrespect, and hide behind the fact that I get no money from this, and pursuing a civil suit against me would cost much more than it could possibly be worth, as I have no money and huge unpaid student loan debts!
Archive rights: Would be cool to be archived! Rugbytackle only, though.
Aragorn sat watching in the night.
Three days out from Rivendell, a Ranger loose in the Wilds, with weeks of rough living ahead.
This was what he loved. He was Strider again, for a while. Eventually, he might be King of a great people, ruler of a vast land. He had led men-at-arms and he would lead them again. But a journey in the wilderness, in the darkest months of the year, with nothing but the pack on his back and his own two feet. This was his life.
So why was he sitting watch thinking about long fingers and asparagus? Warm kitchens and star-shaped cookie cutters and icing sugar and spices and chocolate? Smudges of flour and hiding in the pantry?
There was a packet of three-day old muffins and scones in his pack on his blanket and all day he had been thinking that the touch of Boromir's hands on them - the dough, the spoon, packing them away - had sweetened and seasoned them - converted homey pastries into delicacies more lucious than any ever created by the immortals in the Last Homely House.
But Boromir and his strange cooking fetish and kitchen "adventures" had been a distraction. A dalliance to while away the soft days in Imladris before returning to the Road.
Why was it all he could think about, as he stared into the winter darkness, was the taste of chocolate and cinnamon on Boromir’s skin and the smell of cloves and apples in his hair?
Originally posted at Rugbytackle
uisgich, (a major foodie, who it is this author's vague recollection had a catering business in her former life), asked muck_a_luck (who in a previous incarnation ran a co-operative kitchen for 150 people), to provide her recipe for Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Muffins. After idle LJ-type chatter between their icons, manly men Maj. Richard Sharpe and Boromir, Son of Gondor, Uisgich wrote Gondorian Muffins (and blamed me), Asparagus!, and Sweet Meat.
Then, weirdly, Muck-a-luck, who had always denied that she would ever post any fiction,
So, behind the cut, please find my first ever fiction post, approximately a double drabble.
Thanks to Uisgich for the beta.
Love to you all!
CK
Title: Cloves and Apples
Author:
muck_a_luckPairing: Aragorn/Boromir
Rating: Hard G (*snortle*)
Summary: Strider struggles with his recently-acquired food obsessions
Content/warnings: A little schmoopy. (I'm quite embarrassed.) A little angsty.
Spoilers: None, though as
uisgich points out, not in conflict with book canonDisclaimers: These characters belong to JRR Tolkien and his heirs and assigns. I have no right to use them, mean no disrespect, and hide behind the fact that I get no money from this, and pursuing a civil suit against me would cost much more than it could possibly be worth, as I have no money and huge unpaid student loan debts!
Archive rights: Would be cool to be archived! Rugbytackle only, though.
Aragorn sat watching in the night.
Three days out from Rivendell, a Ranger loose in the Wilds, with weeks of rough living ahead.
This was what he loved. He was Strider again, for a while. Eventually, he might be King of a great people, ruler of a vast land. He had led men-at-arms and he would lead them again. But a journey in the wilderness, in the darkest months of the year, with nothing but the pack on his back and his own two feet. This was his life.
So why was he sitting watch thinking about long fingers and asparagus? Warm kitchens and star-shaped cookie cutters and icing sugar and spices and chocolate? Smudges of flour and hiding in the pantry?
There was a packet of three-day old muffins and scones in his pack on his blanket and all day he had been thinking that the touch of Boromir's hands on them - the dough, the spoon, packing them away - had sweetened and seasoned them - converted homey pastries into delicacies more lucious than any ever created by the immortals in the Last Homely House.
But Boromir and his strange cooking fetish and kitchen "adventures" had been a distraction. A dalliance to while away the soft days in Imladris before returning to the Road.
Why was it all he could think about, as he stared into the winter darkness, was the taste of chocolate and cinnamon on Boromir’s skin and the smell of cloves and apples in his hair?
Originally posted at Rugbytackle
