Mila (A Glorfindel Fanfiction)

I am a lame shoot

The sounds of elves cheering and whistling filled the air on the training grounds. In the middle of the ground, an elf and a man attacked each other with a clang of their swords.

Everything moved fast. The man was skillful with his blade, his movements powerful and calculated. The elf was nimble and graceful; he anticipated every blow aimed towards him, able to dodge every single strike. The elf continued this, making his opponent grew tired, and when he was off his guard, then the elf began his offense-the tip of his elven sword ended up being under the man's chin.

Elladan just won a friendly match against one of the rangers of the North who seeked shelter in Rivendell about two weeks ago. Mila watched as the two male clapped each other's back as they finished their duel; their banter was friendly. Elrohir, Mila noted, was collecting his wager from his comrades who had bet against his older twin brother.

Mila stood with Erussiel near the table where they had prepared mini refreshments such as cakes and tea for the fighters and the audiences.

"Cake?" Mila offered Erussiel, who gave a light scoff.

"Do I look like I eat cake?" snickered Erussiel like a diva trying to keep her figure in check for a beauty pageant.

Mila took a bite of her dessert and took another from the table. "Come on, just try this one. Just a bite. I made it, it's a favorite in the house of Elrond."

"You made these?" Erussiel said with a bit of awe as she stared at the condiments on the table.

"No, just the honey cake."

Glorfindel kept me busy and left me no time to make all of these, Mila thought to herself.

Erussiel, still behaving like a diva, reluctantly took the honey cake and cut it to an even smaller size than the original mini bites. It reminded Mila from a scene in The Confessions of a Shopaholic. "Will this make me fat?"

"That microscopic slice will leave a ant unsatisfied," Mila retorted back.

Erussiel shrugged and took a bite. As soon as the cake melted on her tongue, both butter and honey, her eyes widened in delight, and a moan escaped her.

"Oh Mila this is so so good!" she mumbled between her chew. Mila grinned proudly at herself. Erussiel's bright eyes fleeted across to the honey cake on the table longingly.

"Take some more," Mila cut her another slice, a normal sized slice this time.

"I can't."

The human mortal woman rolled her eyes. "Elves don't possess a fat gene," Mila pointed out, pushing the cake to Erussiel's hand. A small smile pulled at the elf's face.

"I guess another slice won't kill me," shrugged Erussiel.

Mila beamed as she watched her former frenemy took delight in her honey cake. Erussiel might be tough on the outside, like the mean, popular girl in school, but deep down, Erussiel was actually quite nice. The elleth just reluctant to show the real her to others, which was sad.

"Do you like it? From one to ten, how would you rate my famous honey cake?"

Erussiel hummed, "Seven and a half," she said nonchalantly.

"Just seven and a half?" Mila pouted.

Erussiel glanced at Mila, "I'd give it an eight, but while this taste delicious, this also feels fattening."

"Would you stop saying fat?" giggled Mila in amusement. Erussiel cackled.

"If you can make something as good as this and not fattening, I will give you a ten."