Hiiiii! To those of you who are still reading this story, thank you for your patience! And I apologize for the delay; my Muse apparently has the attention span of a gnat. Or Pippin. Anyway, I will try to update more speedily in the future.

You should know the drill by now. I own nothing.

Celeborn smiled and gave a signal to the elf servants, who went over to the swan boat and opened another compartment and brought several items over to Celeborn and dumped it unceremoniously into a pile at Celeborn's feet. Out of this pile, Celeborn picked up a mushroom-shaped chef's hat and a white apron that said "Please Pity the Chef" and put these on.

"Seriously, this is really starting to annoy me," Gimli said. "Why does everyone seem to have these things?"

Merry smiled and shook his head and said, "Not everyone, Gimli. Pippin had a set once, but he ate it while we were on Caradhras."

"It's true," Pippin said with a slightly deranged smile.

"How come I'm not surprised?" Gimli asked.

"It's in his nature," Merry said with a shrug.

"But, you do admit that Pippin owned a pair at one time?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"So, how come everybody owns one of these?"

"It's one of those laws of nature that you just don't question," Merry said. "You just live with it."

At this point in time, Celeborn had sorted out the pile of items and had lit a fire over which he was boiling some water. Now he turned to the Fellowship and said, "I am sorry to say that you all must leave this site until I am finished cooking."

"Why?" asked the Fellowship in unison.

"What I am about to make for you is a secret family recipe. It has been passed down from generation to generation to generation to generation to generation and only those in our family may see it made," Celeborn replied, "Anyone else who witnesses it will… be cursed. Sometimes it's even fatal." He turned to Boromir with a sad expression on his face. Boromir stared back at Celeborn for a split second, wondering why this elf was always staring at him. It was starting to get mildly creepy.

Aragorn bowed to Celeborn and said, "We will happily oblige to the wishes of the Lord of the Golden Wood."

"No matter how eccentric," Boromir added on in a low murmur that neither Galadriel nor Celeborn could hear. He then received a prompt elbow in the ribs from Aragorn.

Celeborn, not noticing this silent exchange between the two men, said, "Thank you. We will send our servants with you as well since even they cannot see It cooked."

"I will come and fetch you when the time is right," Galadriel said, "Now, go!"

"It's been an awful long time," said Sam, pacing the length of the clearing in which the Fellowship was waiting. "It feels like it's been years since we came here. What could be taking so long?"

"One cannot rush perfection," Legolas murmured.

"What?" Sam asked, turning to face Legolas. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Legolas looked up from his compact mirror and said, "I'm sorry, Samwise, did you say something? I was rather busy with my appearance to listen."

"Nothing," Sam sighed in frustration as Legolas continued to softly brush his hair with his luxurious and completely feminine brush.

Merry and Pippin were leaning against a tree, holding a whispered conversation.

"So, what do you think 'It' is, Pip?" Merry asked.

"I dunno," Pippin replied. "But it must be something really special if he doesn't want us to see it being made, right?"

Merry frowned in thought. "You have a point, but he did say that it's a family recipe and if the rest of Galadriel's family cooks at all like she does, then I have a bad feeling this may be as bad as the Lady's stew… if not worse!"

"Oh come on… I didn't think it was that bad!"

"This coming from the guy who enjoyed Boromir's eyeball-and-moving-little-bits-of- Eru-only-knows-what-surprise stew," Merry retorted and Pippin glared at him.

At this point, Aragorn had heard them whispering and walked over with interest. "What are you two talking about? I heard something about the Lady's stew."

"We were trying to figure out what Lord Celeborn was making," Merry said, then paused as an idea came upon him, "Aragorn, I heard you've been to Lothlorien before. Do you know what Celeborn could be making?"

Aragorn smiled in understanding. "You want to know if it's going to be similar to the abomination of a stew that the Lady Galadriel made the first night of our stay?"

Merry and Pippin both nodded as Gimli came in on the conversation upon hearing Aragorn insulting Galadriel's cooking.

"What?! Who's daring to insult the wonderful Lady's cooking?!" Gimli roared, hand upon his axe.

Aragorn rolled his eyes at Gimli's blind infatuation. "It was pretty bad, Gimli; I'm just telling the truth."

"It wasn't horrible!" Gimli protested.

Aragorn sighed; he really did not want to deal with the headache that was the stubbornness of dwarves. "You're right, Gimli, I'm sorry," he said with his fingers crossed behind his back.

Gimli grinned. "Good to see some sense finally came to you."

"Now, as I was saying," Aragron said, focusing his attention back on to Merry and Pippin, "I know Galadriel's granddaughter, Arwen, and she's made their 'secret' family recipe for me before and it's not bad at all. In fact, it's got an almost magical property about it."

"That's great to hear," Merry said with a sigh of relief.

"That's all fine and well, but what is it?" Pippin asked.

Aragorn smiled and said, "I'll let you be surprised on what it is. All you need to know is that it's very delicious."

"Even better than the Lady's stew?" Gimli asked. He had been listening in on the conversation just in case any more insults about Galadriel were stealthily dropped.

"Yes, Gimli, I can honestly say that what Celeborn is cooking will be more delicious than what the Lady Galadriel made for you that night."

"Well, I'll reserve my judgment until lunch," Gimli grumbled.

Silence filled the clearing. Merry and Pippin sat in thought, wondering what Celeborn was making. Aragorn took out his pipe and examined it. Gimli still grumbled to himself angrily about Aragorn's claims about the Lady's food. Frodo sat on a tree stump, looking at the ring, contemplatively. Sam continued to pace the clearing. Legolas experimented with how his hair looked parted to the right as opposed to the center.

Suddenly Aragorn looked up in alarm, surveyed the clearing, and said, "Has anyone seen Boromir?"

Boromir was crouched behind a large and thick patch of undergrowth, watching Celeborn adding ingredients to the boiling pot with relish. He didn't care about the warnings the elves had said; he figured as long as they couldn't see him, they would have no reason to curse him.

He silently chuckled to himself at the brilliance of his plan until he heard Celeborn say to Galadriel, "It's done, go and fetch them." Galadriel nodded and walked away.

Boromir swore under his breath and made his way to the clearing he had left earlier as quickly as possible without being seen.

When Boromir burst into the clearing, Galadriel had not yet come. Everyone in the Fellowship was desperately searching for him. As soon as he ran into the clearing, he tripped on Pippin, who was looking under a small rock, calling Boromir's name. Boromir swore as he twisted his ankle and skidded into the middle of the clearing.

When Pippin got up to see what had knocked him over, his eyes fell on Bormir, who was now screaming profanities as he clutched his right ankle. Pippin grinned and said, "Hey, it worked! I found Boromir, everyone! All I had to do was look under this rock!" Pippin pointed to the rock he was holding. "This rock must be lucky. I think I'll keep it!" Pippin grinned and put it in his pocket.

"Boromir, where were you? You weren't looking at what Celeborn was making, were you?" Aragorn asked.

"Well… you see… I…"

"Boromir?"

"I don't see what's so special about it! It's only--"

"You mean you saw him make it?"

"A little," Boromir replied sheepishly, "But they didn't see me so they should have no reason to--"

"You idiot!" Aragorn exclaimed, "Celeborn used magic to make that! There's an enchantment on the recipe that makes sure that if anyone sees…"

"Is everything okay here?" Galadriel asked, coming into the clearing. "I heard shouting."

Everyone froze. Even Legolas stopped caressing his perfect locks of gold. Aragorn just looked at her, furiously trying to think of a lie that she would believe. Finally, he smiled and said, "It was nothing, Milady. Boromir was merely pacing and twisted his ankle on a stray root. I was just yelling at him for being so careless…" He gave Boromir a fierce glance. "I'll just help him walk." Aragorn grabbed Boromir's arm and pulled him up.

"Very well, then," Galadriel replied, smiling at the clumsiness of men, "Follow me."

"Behold!" Celeborn exclaimed. "I give you…" Celeborn gestured to a picnic cloth with several bowls set on it. "…chicken noodle soup!"

The Hobbits were flabbergasted.

"Chicken noodle soup!" Pippin exclaimed. "That's what you've been jealously guarding this whole time! Chicken noodle soup!!!! Why, anyone with half a brain could make Chicken noodle soup… er, no offense…"

"But it's a special kind of Chicken noodle soup," Celeborn replied.

"What's so special then?" Pippin demanded.

"It has alphabet letters in it…"

"That's it? That's--" Pippin started to exclaim, but Celeborn continued to speak.

"The letters, Master Took, spell out things about your future."

"Oh, please, that's such a load of--"

"Don't knock it until you try it, Pippin," Aragorn said with a smile. "When I had it, it was pretty accurate… except for the part where I get to marry the love of my life…" Aragorn sighed wistfully.

"Right, then…" Celeborn said. "Dig in!" He took up a ladle and poured the soup into ten bowls. He gave one to each member and then took one for himself and Galadriel.

Frodo cautiously stirred the soup with his spoon, watching the various letters swirl round and round in the broth. Then, something peculiar happened. Several letters swirled up from the bottom and stayed on the surface. They said, 'Future unclear. Please try again.'

Frodo blinked. "Well, that's reassuring," he commented, "I think mine's broke, Celeborn."

"Really?" Celeborn replied, "Because mine is telling me that I will be miserable for the rest of my pathetic life. And I think that's pretty accurate." He cast a meaningful glance over at his wife, who was nonchalantly gulping her soup down.

Aragorn shook his bowl, "It keeps telling me that I'm going to be king! Dammit, what about marrying my true love? Show me that!" He shook the bowl harder, slopping some soup on his pants. He held back a curse as he looked at the bowl again. "Celeborn, I think the soup's broken. It's telling me that the future of my love life is unclear and that I should stir again."

Boromir frowned at his bowl and gently swished it. The letters came up to arrange themselves to form the word, 'death'. He frowned and tried again. 'Amon Hen.' He frowned and tried again once more. 'Uruk-hai'. And once more. 'Three arrows.'

"Celeborn, I think the soup is broken. It's only giving me fragments."

Celeborn paused in mid-sip. "Really? What do they say?"

"Death, Amon Hen, Uruk-hai, and three arrows. What does that even mean?"

"Oh, no it's not broken," Celeborn said with a sad glance.

Boromir shuddered, thinking perhaps his over eagerness to see the soup being made had just cost his life. But how did that smug little elf even know about that? Honestly, this is why he hadn't wanted to leave Gondor in the first place.

Pippin was reluctant to look at his future in the soup. Personally, he thought food was food and if it did anything beyond being delicious it just wasn't right. But, since he didn't want to be the only one who wasn't looking at his future, he forbore on eating the soup and looked at it. 'Kidnapped by orcs.' Pippin blinked. 'Rescued. Will travel far and then serve under a crazed pyromaniac.'

Pippin then leaned over to Merry and said, "What does yours say?"

"It says, 'Kidnapped by orcs. Rescued. Ride to battle with a suicidal transvestite.' That's really weird."

"I don't think these things are accurate at all," Gimli commented, leaning over to talk to the hobbits, "Mine says that I will never get what I desire and that I will leave Middle Earth."

"Mine says that I will fall in love with the sea," Legolas said with disgust. "But I do not like the sea. I like the forest where everything is green and good and filled with cute fuzzy animals! I would never love the ocean! It's too wet!"

"That's what she said," Pippin muttered.

"What was that?" Gimli and Merry asked, confused.

"Nothing," Pippin said with a grin, "You wouldn't get it. Your minds aren't nearly dirty enough."

"Clearly," Merry said with a roll of his eyes.

Sam looked at his soup, puzzled. His fortune seemed fairly good. It told him that he would marry the love of his life and would live a long and successful life. When he told everyone else, they laughed at him.

"Clearly the soup was ruined!" Aragorn remarked. "Who would ever think that something that good would happen to Sam?"

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean!" Sam snapped indignantly. "What makes it so impossible? Huh?"

"You don't want us to answer that, Sam," Frodo replied, "Trust me."

"So you all think something is wrong with the soup?" Celeborn said, "But how could such a thing have occurred?"

Boromir gulped and tried to make himself smaller, which was a very difficult task for such a large man. Luckily, before Celeborn could inquire whether anyone had gone to watch, Galadriel butted in.

"This is what happens when you don't do as I say!" she snapped at Celeborn. "I told you to use water from the mirror of Galadriel, but no! It had to be normal water! And if you'd just borrowed a valuable item of significance like, say, the Ring, then it would have turned out perfectly!"

"I followed the recipe word for word, darling," Celeborn retorted, "And it's worked for generations! If anything, your modifications would make things go worse!" he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Assuming that nobody saw it being made, perhaps Sauron's evil extends further than we'd previously thought."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Frodo asked.

"When Sauron ruled Middle Earth long ago, it is said that no good food could be made," Galadriel said ominously, "Good recipes went afoul; meat went bad; breads and cakes refused to rise. This is the true evil power of Sauron. Since there was no good food, troops went malnourished and it made it easier to suppress any rebellion that rose."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Boromir muttered, rolling his eyes.

Galadriel made no sign that she heard him and continued, "Since Sauron is returning to power, it does not surprise me that recipes are starting to go afoul," Galadriel turned dramatically towards Frodo, "This only makes your mission more important. As you grow closer to your destination, Sauron's power and influence will only increase. The enemy will be out looking for you in droves. Be sure that your recipes do not go afoul or you might end up making yourself more noticeable. Secrecy is your best asset at this point…"

Pippin opened his mouth to say something but Merry shoved a spoonful of soup in it before he could mention anything about what had already happened to give them away. Instead, after swallowing the soup, he said, "But it tastes fine to me."

"Excuse me?" Galadriel said, feeling shocked that someone had the impudence to interrupt her in the middle of her big speech.

"The soup. It tastes perfectly fine to me. If the recipe had gone wrong, wouldn't it taste bad?"

The rest of the Fellowship, hesitant to take Pippin's word on the quality of food, each ate a spoonful out of their respective bowls and agreed with Pippin.

Aragorn added, "It doesn't taste any different than it did when Arwen made it for me."

"That's because there's nothing wrong with it!" Celeborn spoke up, sick of his wife's lies. "Be mindful of what the soup tells you. It could save your life," he cast yet another sad glance at Boromir, who slowly began to have a feeling that there was more to the elf's constant staring at him than just being creepy. But before Boromir could put two and two together (which had always been a difficult thing for him since he had received a rather serious concussion after a basic math tutoring session many years ago), Celeborn looked away and said, "The soup knows all."

Frodo looked at his bowl and words swirled to the surface. Indeed I do… Indeed I do… Evil laughter rang distantly in his ears and he couldn't help but feeling afraid.

I think I'll end the chapter here, just to make it suspenseful. I'm sorry I hadn't updated this in a while; I was caught up in other things. I would like to thank all of my readers and reviewers for being so patient with me. I am going to try to see this story through, though it is not a guarantee.