Eat, Drink, and Be Merry by AdmirableMonster  

Fatherless Pie

for the prompts:

fatherless pie

and

harpers - keen - afar - none

The Mouth of Sauron surveys the bleak countryside.  A few flakes of snow float halfheartedly downwards from the blanket of grey clouds.

“I imagine the harpers are playing in Elven lands afar,” says the Witch King, joining him.

“Sarcasm,” the Mouth opines.

“Bitterness,” she corrects.  “The taste is different.”

He makes a mental note.  “As you know, my aptitude for the emotions of others is less than keen.”

She responds with an affirmative noise.  “The first midwinter in Mordor,” she comments.  “Do you miss—” She halts.  “I miss my father.”

“Wistfulness?” he guesses.

“That and grief.”

“My father—” Oh, but that is a complicated set of emotions.  He wishes for none, and he may be feeling them all.  “He used to make a recipe called ‘fatherless pie,’ for midwinter.  Irony, as I understand it.  Sarcasm is a form of irony, but irony is not precisely an emotion.”

“My wife,” she says, and swallows the rest of her statement.  “Yes.  Such things are complicated.  The bards debate them often.”

“Midwinter is a time for quiet reflection,” he says.  “So say my people.  Perhaps it is also a time for grief.”

“Grief is better shared,” she says, and stands with him quietly.