The Queen of Pies

Once upon a time there was a kitchen, a hobbit and some cooking supplies. And afterwards, there was a pie too. It was a splendid berry pie, containing criminal amounts of sugar, cream and fresh blueberries. The pie crust was perfect and crunchy as well. The hobbit baker looked at the pie proudly and concluded:
”This pie is so perfect it must be a royal one, a Queen of Pies!”
The pie listened and blushed, feeling proud of herself.

The hobbit took the pie down into the cellars and put it on a high shelf. From there, the newly-proclaimed Queen observed her piedom. It looked at the other foods that were kept on the other shelves. There was some old cheese at the bottom, smelling worse than an old sock. There was an ale keg in the corner, having a slight hiccup. And there, only one shelf down, was a scone, staring at the pie and looking sour.

The pie looked at her piedom with disgust. The other foods didn't seem to know who she was! The Queen of Pies! So she cleared her throat and declared:
”I am the Queen of Pies, and this is my piedom!”
”Let it be known that royal cream flows in my veins.”
”The berry jewels in my crusty crown shine like diamonds.”
”All shall kneel and bow before me, for I am the Queen of Pies!”
The pie stopped and waited for an applause, but all she got was a burst of ale when the keg broke into heavy laughter.
”My oh my! I almost forgot how silly these whobbly wheat discs can be!”
”Pardon me, what did you just call me... er, Us?” the pie asked and tried to act royal.
But the keg couldn't answer, it just kept laughing and spilling ale on the floor.
Finally, the old cheese spoke.
”Another royal pie, then? That must mean that there will be a party soon enough.”
”Oh, a party for me?” the pie asked.
”Well, I suppose you will be the star of the party,” the sour scone hissed.
”I think I will miss that party, like always, but it doesn't matter!” it added and looked away.
”I can't wait!” said the pie, looking excited.
”Now lass, don't be suicidal,” the old, cynical cheese said.
”You better enjoy this piedom of yours as long as it is possible.”
”This forsaken den, you mean?” the pie asked. ”This brings me no joy at all!”
”Why am I laughing then?” chuckled the keg and resumed laughing, being full.
The scone turned and spoke again.
”Your royal sweetness will be your doom! This is a hobbit's den!”
The pie looked baffled. ”What does that mean?”
”It means they are going to eat you at one of their parties, unlike us,” the old cheese said.
”So you better get sour and bitter soon, save yourself!” the cheese added.
The pie was horrified. Eaten! By a hobbit, her maker!
”But they said that I am a Queen of Pies...” she whispered.
”That's what they all say,” the old cheese sighed. ”It just means you're doomed.”
The pie was thunderstruck. What a destiny! She didn't want to get eaten, but how could she prevent that?
She couldn't escape, and she wasn't sour and bitter at all, with all that sugar...


Time passed and soon it was the party day. The pie was taken outside and put onto a picnic table. At last, the pie was surrounded by other royal foods worthy of her company, but it didn't cheer her up... For she knew what was about to happen.

The party was in full swing and the eating was about to start, when suddenly, there was a cry...
”Run! It is Lobelia, she is coming!”
A storm of running and jumping hobbits broke out, and the part table was knocked down. Before she knew it, the Queen of Pies was flying through the air... The pie landed on the ground and started to roll down a steep hill, the Hill.

It was the first Midsummer Picnic that was interrupted by Lobelia, of course, but the pie didn't know anything of that. Down she rolled and finally hit the Party Tree. There she lay, wondering if anyone saw her escape.

After a while, the night came and it started to get cold. Suddenly, the pie heard the sound of footsteps... No, it was the sound of pawsteps! A family of badgers was passing by.

It consisted of a mother with her litter. The pups looked scrawny and hungry. The pie looked at them and felt sorry for the small critters. She opened her crust a little and let out a tasty smell of her berry filling. That caught the badgers' attention, and they came to the tree, running.
That night, the badger family had the best feast of all summer. It was a royal meal, after all.

And how about the pie? It felt like the star of the party. It filled the badgers' bellies happily ever after.
Or at least for a couple of hours.

The End.

((The story was inspired by the Grand Summer Picnic and its background story, although this pie story here has a different ending.))