Asking a question about something other than Lindir...Eredin what's the strangest day you've ever had...or maybe the funniest?
ps what's your least favorite food?
📜 “The Funniest (And Most Joyful) Day of My Life” 📜
Ah, well… if I must choose the funniest day, it would have to be last year, on my birthday. I did not expect the events of that day to unfold in the way they did—far from it. I had, you see, mentioned to Lindir, in a casual conversation, that I liked fuzzy socks.
You know, the soft, comfy kind that keep your feet warm and cozy when you’ve been sitting by the fire working on scrolls all day. It was an offhand comment, really. Just me being me. What was he going to do with that information?
Apparently, Lindir thought this was the most important detail about me.
And, well, it might have been, as he passed that very piece of knowledge along to everyone in Rivendell.
So, imagine my surprise when I woke up to a room full of crocheted socks. Pairs of them. All colors. Some embroidered with little patterns, some with symbols I definitely didn’t understand. Hearts? Ponies? Stars? I was not entirely sure.
There were even patterns on the socks. And there were at LEAST twenty something pairs.
All different! It was so overwhelming. There were greens, purples, blues, some with little pom-poms, some with sparkles… the sheer variety of them all baffled me.
Then, of course, there was the chocolate cake. A very large one. With so much frosting. It was delicious.
Maybe a little too delicious. Too much sugar. But I digress. There was cake. With some very kind elves who were definitely pleased to see me enjoy it. I was doing my best to eat politely, but, well… the cake was just too good.
Oh, and then—after that—Lindir suggested we go on a pony ride. Pony ride. I had no idea that was part of the plan. So, I found myself nervously sitting on a pony, clutching the reins as we walked along the paths. I am more of a scholarly type, and not accustomed to… riding things.
I tried not to embarrass myself in front of everyone, but I’m not sure how successful I was. The ponies were very sweet, and they had a petting station thing set up where they were gently brushed and pampered by elves. I… I may have spent more time there than I care to admit, as I absolutely adore ponies.
It was definitely a day to remember—one I will never forget, to say the least.
As for my least favorite food…
Well, this one is, unfortunately, a tale of deep, dramatic tragedy. You see, there exists a dish so hideous, so vile, that its very name haunts me.
Cauliflower.
Yes, you heard me right. Cauliflower. That dreadful, terrible vegetable. You see, it all started when I was but a young child. My family was having dinner—quite a lovely evening, I admit. But then, at some point during the meal, I was presented with a steaming plate of cauliflower. I had heard about it in stories and seen it on other people’s plates, but I never imagined that it would actually make its way into my own unfortunate portion.
I tried to be polite, you know, as one does. I tried a bite, and… oh, dear Valar… it was like eating something mushy and woody at the same time. And it tasted so… bitter. I’m not even sure how a vegetable could taste like that. The very texture of it made me want to crawl into a hole and never emerge again. I tried to mask my reaction, of course—did my best not to grimace. But that one bite… it has lived in my memories as a horrible specter that haunts me to this very day.
Now, whenever I see cauliflower—whether roasted, steamed, or heaven forbid smothered in cheese—I feel my stomach turn. It’s an absolute tragedy that such a food exists in this world, and I can’t, for the life of me, fathom why anyone would willingly subject themselves to it.
To make matters worse, some—well-meaning—elves once tried to make me try it again, thinking that perhaps my tastebuds had matured. Oh, how I suffer. The mere thought of it fills me with dread.
So, if you ever find yourself in my company and you happen to offer me cauliflower—I will politely refuse.
This is a plea. For my sanity. For my stomach. Please, let it never come to that.
Eredin, whose soul is crushed by the specter of cauliflower and whose feet are cushioned by a lifetime of fuzzy socks
