Just Right by Dana
Jul. 20th, 2009 08:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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lotrchallengesAuthor: Dana ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
danae_b
Title: Just Right
Rating: G
Theme: Some like it hot
Elements: 234 words
Author's Notes:
Summary: It's hard recovering one's appetite after long deprivation.
Word Count: 234
Just Right
It was his favourite thing at breakfast, plump hot sausages... most
especially as they'd been fried up with eggs, onions and cheese, fresh crumbling bread with butter and honey, and slivers of summer apples all crisp and cool. It was just enough, and not too much... having only been allowed broth at first, and not even much of that, he'd learned at least one lasting , and knew what he had now was something to savour.
If only he could bring himself to eat.
The broth had been thin, and lacked in flavour, though he'd been told
it was good for him, and would help him build his strength. It was
nothing compared to his mother's cooking, though – oh, what a thing to think! For all he'd done, and what small things he had endured, he felt suddenly like a child. In all his years, he'd never thought his mother's breakfast-scramble would drive him to weep.
So he took a breath. Scrubbed his cheek. Scraped with his fork, and
took a bite.
'Well?'
It was just hot enough, and there was just enough flavour; he
swallowed, blinked, then laughed. 'It's just as I remember.'
'See, I told you,' Estella said, smiling. 'Food still tastes as it ought.'
Fatty nodded. And thus, being the first real breakfast he'd had in at least a year (in truth, it had only been months), Fatty took his time.
danae_bTitle: Just Right
Rating: G
Theme: Some like it hot
Elements: 234 words
Author's Notes:
Summary: It's hard recovering one's appetite after long deprivation.
Word Count: 234
It was his favourite thing at breakfast, plump hot sausages... most
especially as they'd been fried up with eggs, onions and cheese, fresh crumbling bread with butter and honey, and slivers of summer apples all crisp and cool. It was just enough, and not too much... having only been allowed broth at first, and not even much of that, he'd learned at least one lasting , and knew what he had now was something to savour.
If only he could bring himself to eat.
The broth had been thin, and lacked in flavour, though he'd been told
it was good for him, and would help him build his strength. It was
nothing compared to his mother's cooking, though – oh, what a thing to think! For all he'd done, and what small things he had endured, he felt suddenly like a child. In all his years, he'd never thought his mother's breakfast-scramble would drive him to weep.
So he took a breath. Scrubbed his cheek. Scraped with his fork, and
took a bite.
'Well?'
It was just hot enough, and there was just enough flavour; he
swallowed, blinked, then laughed. 'It's just as I remember.'
'See, I told you,' Estella said, smiling. 'Food still tastes as it ought.'
Fatty nodded. And thus, being the first real breakfast he'd had in at least a year (in truth, it had only been months), Fatty took his time.