Maglor, 6
[for the sensory headcanons asks]
6. Some of their favourite flavours or foods
"What are those?" Elros says, jaw dropped in disdain and long arm extended towards the tray on the table (he's already outgrown the shirts made for him six months ago, and the sleeve ends awkwardly midway down his forearm).
"You said dessert," his brother whines. "I thought there would be honey cakes, not deer shit!"
Immediately, Elrond spins on his heels and makes to leave, while a snort can be heard from the cook in the kitchen.
"Wait up now," says Maglor. "Elrond. That is chocolate. It was my favourite treat when I was your age. And I had it made especially for you out of the last cocoa beans in our stores. They were traded from the far south."
"I don't care what you made them out of," Elrond counters. "They look like poops and they're not honey cakes. Come on, Elros. Let's go."
But Elros' interest is piqued. "What's cocoa?"
"Well, it's a type of bean that grows in warmer climates. My brother Caranthir, who used to be lord of this fortress, traded for them with the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains..."
"Yes, yes, we know," grumbles Elrond.
Maglor draws a short breath and continues. "Mixed with fat and sweetener, it can be made into a creamy, delicious treat--"
Not waiting for the end of the sentence, Elrond quips: "Anything tastes good if you put fat and sugar in it."
"-- called chocolate. Try one," Maglor urges Elros, nudging the plate towards him.
Elros gingerly pinches one of the chocolate mounds between finger and thumb. "Oh, it's slippery," he remarks, and drops it.
"Becsaue it's poop," says Elrond, then challenges Maglor: "You eat one first."
Maglor groans. "Fine. Gladly." He plops one into his mouth and chews. "Mm!" he exclaims, theatrically; then, "Mmmm," sincerely. "Mmm. Oh, Yavanna," he says in Quenya, smacking his lips, "forgive me. I am unworthy of such perfection." He closes his eyes and hums.
"You are welcome, lord, on the lady's behalf," calls the cook.
Elrond scowls, then approaches the plate of chocolates and takes one. Boldly, he sticks the whole morsel in his mouth, bites down -- then spits it into the palm of his hand.
"Blech! Tastes like dirt!"
"What's the matter with you?" Maglor's eyes flare open and he shoots upright. "Don't be wasteful!"
Elrond drops his masticated lump of chocolate onto the floor. "Euch, keep your nasty Golodh desserts for yourself, shit-eater."
At that, he marches out of the room with a flourish of gangly limbs and pubescent defiance.
Maglor stuffs another chocolate into his mouth, then drops his face into his hands.
"What am I going to do with these children..." he mutters to himself, forgetting his is not in fact by himself.
"Well, you could make honey cakes," Elros offers helpfully. "It's not that hard to give us what you know we like. Just... stop trying so hard to make us... into you."
"Right," says Maglor. "Stop trying so hard. That's what you're always telling me. Stop trying." He chomps down on another chocolate before calling to the cook to make a large batch of honey cakes.
