I thought grampa said yesterday that there'd be no more contests.

Obviously, for reasons and background that I am not privy to, Lukas is traumatized by them in some capacity. Something I suspect fuels his youthful insecurity behind it all. But evidently that is not enough to stop the childish ambitions.

"We need another contest! One that's fair!"

Children bounce back fast. Their emotions are an unpredictable roller coaster. After a tasty dinner of something other than fish, really we couldn't stomach it last night, and an early night's sleep Lukas has bounced back to his usual boisterous self. If he has any sense of shame or embarrassment from being seen crying his eyes out then he is either very good at moving on or has promptly forgotten it.

There is also the possibility he has no such useless sense of shame because he is 6.

"I'm the best! But not right now, because I'm 6! And Cap is like 500! Ha!"

Wonderful reasoning going on there kindergartener, and I'm two going on three. Do we need to each shout out our ages? Though I think his math is a bit off at grampa's age.

At least he's strong of spirit. That's...honestly better than being down and depressed, even if his volume is pretty annoying at this hour. Can't be helped.

Why are we up this early? I don't think even grampa is up yet. Grampa? Gable? Some adult supervision here? I don't technically count, remember.

"I'm sleepy." I let out a grumble.

"Well wake up soon!"

"I'm cold."

"You'll warm up!"

I can't win against this kid, it's like trying to reason with ball of snow. A very very hyper ball. At best I can simply try to bribe or manipulate him.

We may have gone to bed early but that's no excuse to be up and out before the crack of dawn. Why do we let this kid do this to us? Where does he get his all his energy from? Is it a magic thing?

"Is it time to eat soon?" yawns Amar, the other victim to whatever scheme Lukas has now.

"Soon! The faster the better! Then we get to eat."

Only Lilyanne is safe, snug and undisturbed in her crib. Meanwhile, the rest of us have literally been dragged out of bed and forced to wander outside the warm hobbit home.

"Why are we out here?" I ask again.

Because while he's answered, maybe yelled, each question we have thrown at him, he somehow always avoids this one. I poke at a sleepy head Amar to get him to back me up, because I do not like being dragged out lost and in the dark.

Sure I highly doubt Lukas is planning to murder me right here and now but who knows? Maybe we'll adventure and trip our way to our deaths? We've already been eaten whole by a giant beast once. Why would fate stop at that?

"Lukas *yawn* says, um he says another competition? So um, we're doing something outside? Isn't this the path to the chickens? Or is it the goat? I don't know, Lukas tell us."

The oldest boy finally breaks his badly kept silence, cracks like an egg for breakfast.

"Cap can't cook!"

Well, that's nice and irrelevant and- wait what? What is this information, this gossip I hear? The larger than life all-powerful hero that spends most of his life wandering and traveling across all sorts of lands, can't what now? I need to confirm this immediately.

"Gramps can't cook?"

"Nope!"

"How do you know this?"

"Uh duh, I live here. He's set the kitchen on fire two times already when Gable wasn't looking, and Gable is really good at looking or making sure Cap doesn't touch fire."

One, What? Two, Grampa is around that much? How dare he!

"Is the lord commander really that bad? He's okay when camping?" comes a curious comment from Amar, his eyes rolling up as if struggling to think of a time he's ever seen my grampa cook.

That's right, how in the world did he survive all his life without some basic cooking skills? Surely this is just a joke. You can start a fire and roast something surely?

At home, we have the chefs to handle our meals. In the troops, there's the cafeteria. Here Gable is the one that magically fills up our plates, though he does make us run chores occasionally. Nothing new there. Grampa is just never in the right situation to need to do so?

Sure I never have seen him even boil water but it can't be that bad?

"Uh yeah, he can cut bread or cheese. But he can't make anything without burning or destroying it! But I can make eggs and stuff!"

Amar gives a slow nod to Luka's bragging, as confirming to himself that yes he can't recall a single time the old man has ever tended to a stove, before casually asking.

"Nothing?"

"Nope! All burnt or really really bad!"

"That's weird."

"Yeah I know right!"

"I guess he has his secret storage spaces, like Rosalia's baggie? The ones that can slow rotting or keep things good?"

"It's still something he can't do!"

Lukas is all hot air and childish insecurity issues that must run unreasonable deep, but he's on to something interesting here. It's not that big of a deal if it's true but the more things to rub in grampa's face the better.

"So what you're saying is, you're going to compete with grampa in cooking?" I try making sense of the situation.

"Yep! And this time Gable has to admit it! For real, this time. Everyone can see"

"This time? So what are we doing outside the chicken coop?" repeats Amar.

The wet and probably frozen grass crunch under our feet as we walk along, the weather beginning to truely get colder, at least in the early morning. Winter can't be far away if the chill in the air is increasing each day.

The sleep, even the chill is fading from me however when Amar's earlier words register in my brain and match up to the surroundings. This path, this gate, it's the way to a miniature hell. An elopement of demons.

Oh my god no, not the chickens.

"I'm going to beat commander so bad, with breakfast! Hahahahaha!!!"

He's insane, this child is absolutely insane and I am loathe to even forget it for a second. With a slam he opens the final enchanted gate and rushes into certain feathery doom. In my shock, I can't react like a proper mature adult.

"Lukas no!"

I'm too slow, even if I wasn't my shouts wouldn't matter. The ruckus we made is more than enough. The gate slams and the chickens are awake, eyes honed in on us especially the boy rushing at them.

We're dead.

Couldn't Lukas have just gone through and kamikaze himself into egg duty by himself! But it's far too late and I was careless in where we were heading, trusting too much in the kindergartners. This far in the mini dinosaurs must have already gotten our scents, each and every one of us.

I feel like facepalming myself into the ground but settle for my hands.

"And he's gone." I'm not crying, I'm just very tired and sleepy.

"We should go help him."

"No...let him get pecked to death first."

"I think he'll be shredded by their claws first? Is he carrying any feed?"

"Let chickens eat him."

I grumble out since we're all doomed either way. Might as well let him take the first wave of pain and suffering. A warning into egg duty would have been nice. I bet they're going to be extra aggressive today since it's been a while. Really a warning to prepare myself both mentally and physically would have been very useful.

Damn it I rather go milk the goat.

I mean I could just try to stay back but the chickens are really annoying with their pack hunting. Who knew chickens pack hunted? Rather than mini T-rexes are they more related to raptors? I don't know! After the initial charge and Lukas annoys them enough they're going to identify us, stragglers, in the back and attack. Especially me, the smallest weak link.

I hate egg duty. Yeah, let Lukas tire them out first, while he still can.

"Let's go get the feed? If we help him now it will go faster." leads Amar, wandering off to the sturdy tiny looking storage shed. I swear though it is much bigger in the inside. That's a theme here huh?

"Maybe I don't want to help."

"Hmm but you'll get to go back inside and eat sooner?"

"Oh fine, let's get this over with. To the feed....and Lukas."

My pettiness can't win over the coaxing of common sense and getting the hell out of here. No one really wants to spend their early morning in the chicken coop. Too much poop and tiny rodent corpses. Besides we left him to the chickens by himself for like 30 seconds? He can take distracting them for another minute. That's bound to leave some scratches.

It takes 3/4th of an hour later before we can pass through and close the gate to the chicken enclosure again. Far longer than expected with not one but three kids, but we encountered some ...issues aka roosters.

I struggle to relearn how to breathe normally again as the lock and seals to the coop are back in place, ensuring our safety. The eggs gave been placed in my baggie to avoid the crashing and smashing that was guaranteed to happen given the time we just had.

I called it, knew the chickens would be crankier today.

There is a reason I prefer ranged weapons, easy to wack and keep things at a distance. Only three or so chickens got into close range with me today. Not bad, not bad at all.

While I am definitely sweating, scratched up and dirty, it's not so bad. My physical condition has really improved over this year! All the drill sergeant time with Tamera and overall butt whooping is paying off!

To be fair though the kindergarteners were helpful in preventing me from really getting hurt. They totally left me to roll in the mud though, literally. Can't be too mad given that it's every man, or well child, for themselves in the tiny dinosaurs' coop.

Lukas looks both the happiest and in the absolute worst condition. I may be covered in mud and Amar could probably make a whole new chicken with how many feathers are stuck on him, but Lukas takes the cake. As if someone threw him in a giant blender, but with raptor chickens instead of blades.

"We'll be back!" screeches a boy so scruffed up anyone would mistake him as a cat toy.

The beasts bouncing off the coop enclosure walls roar back in a frenzy of bloodlust not yet satisfied. Why can't Gable raise normal livestock?

"No we won't, just you. Not me. No more chickens."

As the only (mental)adult and the great holder of the precious loot, aka eggs, I drag Lukas back by pinching on the flabby part of his arm. You know, the prime pinching spot. Very effective. I trust Amar to finish lock up. The other boy soon catches up to us easily, shaking off spare feathers from him like a dog.

When we arrive back to the hobbit house it is dark and silent but for our careful footsteps, shoes off of course. The living spaces and hallways perfectly still, as most houses are before dawn fully makes itself known. As if no one has bothered getting up out of their beds. In the distance, a rooster or three dryly roars into the sky.

There's no way Gable doesn't know where we were or what we were doing. There was too much screaming, mostly by Lukas, for that.

"It's not screaming. It's a war cry!"

I didn't realize I was muttering my thoughts out loud again. The morning exercise making me crankier rather than energetically refreshed like exercise is supposed to do. Maybe it's the mud and chicken poop that's drying on my entire body?! Who knows?!

"Did my grampa teach you that too," I deadpan, feeling too tired inside.

Is this was Gable feels all the time? I see why he has the, still very gorgeous, frozen poker face that he always does.

"Yep! Scares and weakens the enemy!"

"Oh really? How does it work on chickens? Because I'm pretty sure it just makes them angrier!"

"I don't know! But it gets them all off the eggs really fast."

"Yeah but-!!!"

Hot water creaks on before I can really start my retort but my rage has a new target. Another name to add on the personal petty kill list.

See our first stop is the bathroom rather than the kitchen, for obvious reasons.

"Hmmm that's true, they were too busy chasing you so collecting eggs was really easy. Is this the right knob?" fiddles Amar from above, who absolutely knows what he's doing.

I say definitely because the hot shower cascades directly onto Lukas and me at full power. Perfect aim and timing. You can't accidentally do that. No more talking or arguing for us, not if we don't want water in our mouths. If not for pure shock, and the river of mud and sludge draining as a slippery tripping hazard, I may have pounced at the brat in righteous anger.

But the water is very warm and welcoming after our volunteer morning chores, even if it's a drowning waterfall. I'm still going to kill both these brats one day.

"Ack! Warn a guy!"

"Ah sorry sorry."

The too innocent expression and the fact he's is still watering us like garden plants say he's not really sorry.

Even Lukas can't properly shriek, huddling under the steaming waterfall. It's pretty messy but at least it's not awkward or dangerous to clean up and dry off like this. Though I do have to order the boys back to the bedroom to change their clothes. Not everyone has a handy dimensional space bag as I do.

Lukas got a new bed by the way, courtesy of Gable, given that his last one is lost in the lake or somewhere. It makes me really wonder how much backup furniture and supplies Gable has to keep around in storage.

Contrary to my prediction, no one is up or waiting for us in the kitchen. The house just as silent as before, with my twin fast asleep clutching a pillow when I checked. Shouldn't Gable's troublemaker senses be going off? It should be rigged to whenever Lukas opens his eyes.

Said boy was currently trying to start a fire on the kitchen fireplace and the wood-fueled fire stove. It takes him a few attempts but he gets it. Since we're already here might as well help out, set something to boil into a drink or whatever.

"So how is this going to play out?" I ask

"I'm gonna make cap admit I'm better at this. Gable already says I am but not in front of Cap, not till today!"

"But they're not even here? You can't compete if the other isn't even here?"

For his not wrong comment, Amar gets a wooden spoon pointed to his face. Lukas is very dramatic I have figured out. It's really weird seeing a boy that's obviously related to Gable act out more like my kooky grampa? What a waste.

Obviously grampa is around here too much being a bad influence. Bad gramps, stop bothering Gable and his already difficult attempts at child-raising. But then again maybe Lukas has always just been like that?

"They're gonna see my awesome skills and Cap will be crying in shame! Ha!"

Yeah he's always been like that. Oh well.

Amar looks back and forth between the oddly gloating Lukas and the empty hallway before coming to his own conclusions.

"So? You want to make them breakfast? That's very nice of you."

"What?!?! No! I said I'm gonna make Cap admit defeat! With everyone watching!!!"

"You want commander to say it's tasty? You want to make everyone breakfast too? Okay, we can help."

"No I didn't say that!"

Ahhh this is much cuter, a red flushed and stuttering Lukas is much much cuter than the usual Lukas. From his terribly embarrassed reaction, Amar has read and translated the situation correctly! I think I'm beginning to understand birthday boy a bit better after this, shall I say, piece of Rosetta stone

It's so cute it has me completely caught off guard. In the end this kid just wanted to make breakfast for his parents! How cute! I can't hold back the cooing, even if he kinda sees my own gross grampa as a parental figure.

"Shut up! Both of you! You're all wrong!" yet his sputtering protests goes ignored.

Too bad so sad. No shame little frosty boy, this is adorable. Though nowhere near adorable enough for me to forgive surprise egg duty, I think only Lilyanne is cute enough for that.

"Awwww but it's so sweet of you! Yes yes Gable does do all the cooking and hard work, I didn't think you even noticed."

"Yeah, it's really nice of you to want to make them something back."

"So nice and cute! We'll definitely help make Gable breakfast in bed!"

"We're going to have to hurry, the sun's already up. Commander likes sleeping in but doesn't Gable get up early? Lukas you should stop yelling and start making something."

"I'm not cute- shut up! Stop laughing!"

I'm not laughing, I'm awwwwing. Ah I understand why the other boy not so secretly teases Lukas now, this is quite fun. Cuteness rules the world in my book. He's much more bearable when he's like this, as annoying as his voice tends to be. The sincerely innocent embarrassment, the satisfying feeling of shocking a loudmouth into silence, oh and the almost ridiculous blushing! Oh hoho~

Oh no, is this my future sadistic tendencies showing itself already?

"I'll go set the table." I hastily volunteer, let's not go down that mindset just yet.

"The cabinet is tall so I'll help Rosalia? And cut the bread? Toast? I don't know what else do you need Lukas?"

"Oh yeah, Lukas what are we even making? I know we're using the eggs."

At that moment I pull out multiple baskets worth of our hard-earned loot. As terrible as battling those chickens are, I must admit Gable is right about their egg-producing abilities. Each one was as smooth as a decorative sea stone and from previous experience, I know they produce delicious orange-gold yolks. Tasty.

At the sight of them and our questioning, Lukas shakes himself out of whatever embarrassment he had at having his true intentions revealed. There's nothing wrong with wanting to be nice back, especially to Gable. Gable deserves all the best for what he's had to put up with.

"Right! Put on the toast! Then we're going to make the perfect eggs and bacon to go with it! Easy peasy but Cap can't even do something that simple, hehe."

"Oh okay, that sounds easy." supports Amar, and I agree before we split up to work.

The toast is made by putting sliced bread on a strange grate and leaning it against the fireplace. It's a very strange nonmagical contraption that I initially thought was a medieval torture device. Kinda like a really pointy looking fish grill that stands?

My balance and strength are much better than an average child my age so I have no issue climbing around to find utensils and condiments to set the table with. I admit though it does go much faster with an older child to grab really high stuff and carry plates.

We were working pretty well together until I look over at Lukas cracking eggs in a bowl. It's not bad, he's not doing it wrong or anything. But didn't he say the perfect eggs?

"What are you doing?" I can't help but ask, the table already done with Amar's help.

"Making the best eggs, duh."

He splashes in milk from a cold pitcher, spoons in salt and mixes everything up in the bowl with nothing but a fork. Really for a child, it's very good, very independent. You can tell he's done this many times before. But is he making an omelet? Scrambled?

On a cold iron pan over the fire, he spoons in some butter and another whitish substance, letting it melt and spread before pouring some of the egg mixture in. Switching over to the wooden spoon, he stirs vigorously.

Scrambled, definitely scrambled eggs. Though I guess it could be considered stirred eggs, though it's too overcooked for that but still really good for a little boy. Guess we just have different opinions on perfect eggs, oh well.

I would have left it alone if he didn't make that taunt.

"I bet you never saw eggs this good before!"

I bust out laughing. Oh sweet summer child, foolish foolish child. You shall pay for your naivety.

"Move over, gimmie the stool. I'll show you the perfect egg with a lot less work and in a fraction of the time!"

"What you say! By the way, what does fraction mean?"

"It means a part or a piece, now scoot over."

Taking the kettle I previously put on to boil, I pour the hot water into a small pot. With careful hands I spoon in the clean whole eggs in the now boiling water. There's no way to set this fire to low, not without Gable's magical help so the best I can do it to move it aside.

"Now we wait." I declare.

"How is that better than mine? It's just boiled eggs! "

"Tut tut tut, you really don't know anything do you? Scrambled is fine but you just stirred randomly and splashed eggs in the pan. I bet you think I just made hard boiled eggs."

"Hard boiled? And hey I know plenty!"

"But you don't know the taste and texture of a perfect soft boiled egg now do you?"

"I...uh what now?"

Oh ho ho~ This world really lacks too much in many areas but I really feel it with food. A soft to medium boiled egg is the perfect topping to anything! While I understand it suits rice based dishes more and I am very rice bias, who can deny the jiggly jewel of breakfast. Simple but rich and refined, the yolk flavorful nectar to break and run down your food. Yes there is almost, no, there absolutely is magic in the soft boiled egg!

Like the fool he is Lukas gives me an unbelieving look but it's the muffled snickering behind us that draws my attention.

"And what are you laughing at?"

I understand that as an adorable toddler, my glare is not very intimidating but I try.

"Nothing, you guys are just funny." beams Amar, and if it were anyone else they would believe him.

But I'm nowhere near as easy to fool as Lukas over here.

"Okay, since we're so funny. What do you think is the best way to make eggs?"

"That's silly, they're all tasty. Except when they're burned? "

Ah a very diplomatic answer. Also very avoiding the question. Yes the way one likes their eggs is all a matter of opinion, preference, It's really no big deal in the overall big picture.

"But mine's the best." blurts out Lukas, his eyes squinting like he honestly believes it.

"That's because you haven't had the best yet."

I'm not saying I'm the best in the world because obviously I'm not. But I can surely show this brat a thing or two, he's actually not bad for his age. Did Gable teach him? Or did perhaps life in the troops forces you to pick up these basics?

"Maybe, and Gable can still do it better than me but that's because he's like 500. But scrambled and soft and fluffy and has milky butter! You can't beat butter!"

"So you need extra things? Butter is great yeah but egg? Perfect eggs on their own? Soft boiled all the way, you'll see."

"It's just boiled!"

"You'll see soon."

At this point, Amar doesn't even bother trying to hide his laughter. Something about it rubs me the wrong way. Are we that entertaining? No, I even feel a bit like Lukas from earlier, a little mocking.

"I'm sorry, I asked the wrong question earlier. Amar do you think Lukas' way is the tastiest?"

"Um, no?"

"Hey! Amar!"

"No no that's very fair. And you probably don't think my way is the best either."

"No? Yes? What's the question?"

"I'm getting confused again" complains Lukas.

I wave him off, still a little irritated and getting hungrier by the minute. Is the toast ready?

"What I'm saying is, Amar doesn't think scrambled or soft boiled is the best. That's okay, everyone has favorites. But instead of saying anything he's just laughing at us, right?"

Like a housewife watching daytime TV Lukas gives a dramatic gasp at the realization. If you can't beat them, join them, and Lukas is just too stubborn to really beat.

"Hey! Not cool."

"Ehhh, I didn't really think I needed to say anything?" the smaller boy says with a slight shrug, hands up in the air for mercy he doesn't deserve. It's all a trick anyway because what he says next starts a bushfire.

"I didn't think I needed to say it out loud? Everyone already knows the tastiest eggs are fried."

---------

Gable really didn't know what to expect.

He knew Lukas was out and about, triggering the alarms to the livestock, specifically the chicken coop. The two other tiny signatures with him were pretty easy to guess and he honestly trusted those two far more than his own nephew.

They were up ridiculously early but what were they going to do in the chicken coop? Chores? Well that was fine with him. Of course, he knew it wasn't that simple, it never was with kids or Ronald, who were essentially the same. But what did he care as long as they gathered the eggs and no one got an eye pecked out?

So he settled his head back down into his very warm very comfy bed, not that he could even leave, waving away the alarm and mirror portal set to follow Lukas around the property. That boy was almost as bad as Ronald was during their youth, and he was actually only 6.

It didn't take much for Gable to will himself to sleep again, catching those sweet remaining hours before dawn. Even Ronald's occasional loud snoring right into his ear couldn't stop him, though he was too used to that.

It would be fine.

A couple of hours later, when Gable finally managed to pry and kick off his still dozing personal body heater to check up on the kids in the kitchen, he realizes his mistake.

The good news, nothing was on fire and no one was hurt.

The bad news, his kitchen table is covered in dishes filled with eggs.

His Lukas was snarling like the overgrown puppy he was over a mountain of scrambled eggs that reeked of butter and suet fat. He was going to have to reteach that boy about food waste and rationing.

That was nothing strange, the other kids' behaviors were. He supposes he overestimated them, children. All of them.

Rosalia looked oddly protective over a bowl of steaming but uncracked eggs. The ones on top of toast she managed to get, jelly like? Huh, interesting. He'll ask her about that later. That girl always had such interesting ideas and inventions with her. It was a little nostalgic.

Even stranger was how both of them were glaring with such animosity towards Amar, whose smile was wide but blank. His surrounding plates were probably the nicest looking, filled easy to medium fried eggs. The yolks standing out but the edges browned and crisp.

The whole kitchen smelled great yes, of butter, olive oil, eggs, and toast. But more than that Gable smelled trouble, trouble that wouldn't be easy to scrub out.

He felt like it was a mistake to leave bed at all this morning. Should have listened to Ronald's deep sleepy voice coaxing him to stay safe and snug under the sheets. It wasn't too late, he just needed to keep quiet as he backtracked. The children too preoccupied with one another to notice the start of his approach.

"Aaaaaah it smells so good! But where's the bacon!?"

Out of nowhere Ronald's arm slings over his shoulder like it damn belonged there and knocked them both through the kitchen doorway, in full view on the kids. Right now they didn't feel like kids, rather like wild animals ready to pounce.

"Gable! Try this for me please! And I guess you too grampa."

"Hey hey hey say mine is the best! Hey!"

"Isn't fried the best on bread?"

"Cap! Gable! Mine's super fluffy, which means it's way better than any of these losers!"

"Just admit you never seen something so perfect in your life! Soft boiled is too good for you."

"You're all too funny!"

Gable really didn't know what to expect this morning but it wasn't this.

God damn it Ronald.