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“There you are!” Haldir sprang off the couch with a red velvet pouch in his hand. “You may as well just pick one, you can not hide forever,” he said with a wink and a smile.

Erestor had been doing just that. Still unable to move very fast due to the healing of his injury, hiding was his best option. “Haldir, I am going to be completely useless to whichever one of your little groups gets me.”

“But we have an uneven number without you.” Haldir lifted up the bag and shook it gently. “Besides, you are family now by blood and not just marriage, Ada. It is family tradition for everyone to choose one of the tasks and work with their committee to complete it. Everyone has to choose something.”

Sighing, Erestor moved to the nearest chair and sat down. “You never make Thranduil draw a task,” he said, hoping he could stall until someone happened into the parlor to rescue him. His tactic quickly failed.

“Thranduil brings the wine. That is, was, and always will be his task for Yuletide. Now, choose, or I shall choose one for you,” warned Haldir.

“Haldir, I should really take a nap,” said Erestor, but as he was about to stand, a slip of paper was tossed into his lap. “Fine, fine,” he mumbled, unfolding the sheet as Haldir began to leave the room. “Wait! Haldir, come back, let me pick something else,” pleaded Erestor.

“Too late. I gave you a chance to choose one yourself, now you are stuck with it,” Haldir called from the hallway.

“Haldir! Haldir, return this instant!” Erestor listened to the retreating footsteps. “Ion-nin! Get back here, now!” The old elf sighed. “You... brat! You are just lucky you are too old to spank, or else I would have you go out and cut a switch for-“ He stopped his rant as Glorfindel entered the room, unfolding a piece of paper. “Fin!” he hissed, and motioned for his bonded love to hurry over to him.

Glorfindel walked quickly over, still working on unfolding the paper. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“Fin, I just pulled the most atrocious thing. Well, for me- you would love it,” he said quickly. Looking up from where he sat, he made his eyes as big and adorable as he could muster. “Would you trade with me?”

“You know we are really not supposed to,” whispered Glorfindel, glancing at the door as if they were plotting something extremely secret and most important. “I- oh, Ress, you do not want this,” he said, looking at his own sheet.

“Yes I do!” Erestor grabbed the paper out of Glorfindel’s hands and tossed his own up for him to catch. “Fin, thank you so much, you just do not realize- oh, no.”

“Oh, no? What oh, no?”

Erestor’s shoulders slumped as he let out a frustrated moan. “We pulled the same damned thing.”

“Well, there you go! Not so bad as you thought,” Glorfindel assured him.

“You say that now...”

“Hogwash. I will be right there,” replied Glorfindel, settling on the arm of the chair Erestor was on. “How difficult can it be?”

“How delightful! You chose ‘Cookie Baking’, too?” Beineilien was already in the kitchen, sorting through the trays and baking pans. Nearby, Samwise was taking an inventory of ingredients.

“Chose really implies I had some say in the matter,” grumbled Erestor as Glorfindel pulled an apron from the ones that hung in the kitchen on a hook. When one of them was handed in Erestor’s direction, he crinkled his nose. “What?”

With a sigh, Glorfindel continued to hold the garment out to him. “Take it; it doesn’t bite.”

“Me? Fin, those are for girls,” he said, and bit his lip as all of them gave him rather uncomplimentary looks. “And, erm, it looks great on you, Sam,” he added, noticing the one that the hobbit was wearing. “Or, on anyone with a career in the culinary arts. But... just not me,” he said, continuing to dig the hole he had started.

Glorfindel turned around, sorted through the aprons, yanked the pinkest, frilliest one off of the hook. He tossed the dark blue one he had been holding in Erestor’s direction, where it landed on the table, before donning the very effeminate one he had found for himself. “Wear it, Ress. You are going to make a mess of yourself otherwise.”

“But... my word, Fin, you look a sight!” he exclaimed as Glorfindel tied on his apron with a big, poofed bow in the back.

“Yes, I know. Now, if anyone enters, they will not notice you in your apron, for I will completely baffle them with mine. Put it on, love, because you, unlike Haldir, are not too old to spank.”

Erestor’s face turned a deep shade of crimson as Samwise tried to make heads or tails of the conversation. Beinie bent over a little and whispered to him, and soon they were both laughing as Erestor rubbed his cheeks, trying to rid himself of his flush. “I will warn you all, I can not cook,” Erestor announced, as if this was some newfound lack of skill and not something that had plagued him the better part of his adult life.

“Just follow the recipe, and you will be fine,” Beinie told him. She took a small stack of cards and fanned them out. “I took the liberty of sorting through the recipe box. These are the ones that Sam found the ingredients for, so I think it best to make these first, and if we need to we can go into town for other things.”

“Splendid idea,” commended Glorfindel. “Shall we each pick one, then?”

“I thought it might be fun,” said Beinie. She held the cards out to Erestor. “Care to have the first go?”

- - -

“I hate to ask, Erestor, but what did you do differently?” questioned Beinie.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” Erestor looked over the card. “I did everything as it said, and when it said. I am cursed,” he said, looking at the bowl of muck that had turned into something solid while he had been mixing it. Glorfindel was trying to dislodge the spoon, but he was fighting a losing battle.

Samwise sniffed at the bowl and wrinkled his nose. “Beggin’ yer parden, Master’rester, but perhaps it might be best fer you to sit off to the side an’, um, taste test the cookies.”

When no one else spoke up to veto Sam’s idea, Erestor backed away from the terrible mess he had caused. “I... I think, I… I will over here,” he said, moving to the window seat.

An hour went by as he watched the snowflakes fall. In the kitchen, the other three bakers were merrily cooking and chatting with one another. Once in a while, Erestor caught the tail of a joke, and would chuckle along with them, but always their attention would then stray to him as if confused why he would laugh or quite get the joke. Which, maybe he didn’t, but he knew it was supposed to be funny, and just wanted to be included on some level. With a sigh of defeat, Erestor turned to stare out the window.

“Ress?” There was a pause. “Erestor, darling? I have something for you to do.”

“Are you sure you want me to do anything? I may start the room on fire,” warned Erestor.

Placing his hand on Erestor’s shoulder and giving it a gentle shake, Glorfindel said, “I have three batches of sugar cookies that need to be frosted. The frosting is made, the cookies are cool, all you need to do is frost them.”

“You actually think I can accomplish it without botching it up?” wondered Erestor aloud.

“It is like buttering bread. I know you can do that,” scoffed Glorfindel as he walked away to the back counter, carrying a tray with him. “Come on, I need to get started on the gingerbread.”

Erestor looked glumly to the floor, for he was the one to ruin the first batch of the gingerbread cookies. “Where do I put them when I finish?” questioned Erestor, not wanting to miss a single detail of the process.

“Right back where they were,” Glorfindel said, setting down a bowl of white icing. “Have fun,” he added, patting Erestor on the back as he went back to the main part of the kitchen, his pink frilly apron swishing as he walked.

Picking up a cookie, Erestor carefully held it while he used the spatula to lift a little frosting from the bowl. Gently, he smoothed it out over the surface of the cookie, expecting it to crumble in his hands at any moment. When it did not, he set it down on the tray, staring at it, waiting for it to spontaneously combust. When this did not happen, he considered it a fluke and tried another.

He made it through eight before something did happen. On cookie number nine, the head of the reindeer fell off and onto the countertop. Erestor made an audible sort of an ‘eep’ sound, and all talk in the other part of the kitchen stopped. “Erestor? Everything alright?” called out Glorfindel.

“Ah... um...” Not wanting to be hurried away from something he could actually do because of one little mistake, Erestor replied, “Fine, everything is just fine. I just accidentally stuck my finger in the frosting.”

“Oh, no harm there,” called Glorfindel. “You washed your hands, not to worry.” The conversation continued and Erestor breathed a silent sigh of relief. But what to do with the evidence?

Erestor frosted the other three cookies on the tray, then sprinkled them with various colored sugars that Glorfindel had left him with. He frowned at the headless reindeer near the middle of the tray. Glancing over his shoulder, Erestor picked up the mutilated cookie and then discretely, ate it. Smiling to himself on his excellent solution, he realized with a start that there was now a gaping hole on the tray.

Another idea came to him, and Erestor shifted the cookies around until they had more space between them and no visible gap. “Fin, where do you want the trays I have finished with?” asked Erestor.

“Oh, I will take them.” Glorfindel started to walk back, and Erestor proudly looked over the tray he had finished one final time. His eyes widened as they fell upon the dismembered reindeer head on the counter. In a panic, he grabbed it, and, not knowing where else to put it, he shoved it into his mouth. “Erestor!” The dark elf practically jumped as he spun around. “These are excellent!” he commended, looking over the cookies on the tray. “See? You can do something in the kitchen... well, besides sample everything while I am cooking,” said the blond with a wink. Erestor did not reply – as his mouth was full of cookie – so, to further reassure Erestor, Glorfindel gave him a kiss.

When he pulled back away, Glorfindel was narrowing his eyes, but he was smirking as well. He looked at the tray, where the faint outlines of where the cookies had been ratted out Erestor as to what had happened. Erestor looked at Glorfindel sheepishly and shrugged.

- - -

“Well, that explains why you have a special plate of headless reindeer cookies,” commented Haldir as he looked at the offerings of goodies that were placed on the table. “But... it still leaves me wondering one thing.”

“Yes?” asked Glorfindel, pouring another glass of wine for himself. He poked at the fire in the parlor before taking his seat on the sofa again.

“Why are you still wearing the apron?” blurted out Orophin, who had been wanting to ask the question all night, from dinner to the present opening to the caroling they had heard.

Glorfindel fluffed out the ruffles. “It makes me feel pretty,” he replied, while Erestor, who was sitting beside him, was quite obviously trying not to laugh. The dark elf was turning a deeper and deeper shade of plum. Finally, unable to hold it any longer, Erestor let out a loud snort, which led to a number of the other members of the family laughing along. “What? You think it doesn’t?”

“Oh, no, no, it is lovely,” said Erestor immediately. “Absolutely...*snicker*... beautiful... *snort*... “

“Thank you. I think I may have one made for me in lilac,” added Glorfindel, sipping his wine nonchalantly.

“So, ion-nin,” Erestor said when he finally regained his composure, “what were you up to this month? I had barely seen hide or hair of you- what task did you pull?”

“Well,” said Haldir, “funny you should ask...”
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