Disclaimer: I don’t own them, and I’ll put them back when I’m done!

Miscreants and Rapscallions

By Elendiari

Chapter One: Crime and Punishment

     He should have known. Gandalf had warned him about taking hobbits into his service, Tooks in particular, but he had not listened. They were, after all, his close friends. How was it, then, that they managed to wreak havoc and mayhem when they had only been in the City one month?

     “Well, what do you have to say for yourselves?” Aragorn asked sternly, gazing at the trio in front of him.

     “We’re very sorry, Father,” Eldarion replied. “Don’t get mad at Faramir, please, it was my idea.”

     “No, it was mine!” cried Faramir. “Well, the contest was.” He raised his eyes defensively. “But it was Legolas who said that shields make the best sleds!”

     Aragorn looked up at the Prince of Mirkwood and Lord of Ithilien, and was deeply surprised to see that the Elf looked rather guilty, and also defiant.

    “I did tell them that, Aragorn,” Legolas admitted. “I was remembering what my friends and I would do on winter afternoons for fun.”

       Aragorn glanced at Pippin, who was standing next to him, and saw that the Took’s eyebrows were raised, and he seemed to be biting back a smile. He faced the miscreants again.

     “I don’t care whose fault it was, I must pass judgment on all of you. Yes, even you Legolas,” he added as the Elf opened his mouth, frowning. “You have dented two ceremonial shields, ripped the carpet on the stairs, and broken a window. Not to mention scaring two of the maids half to death. So, I am assigning you to clean up duty. You will scrub the ballroom floor until it shines. It should only take you one day, if you start in the morning. Now, go to your rooms.”

   “Yes, Father.” Sullenly.

   “Yes, your Majesty.” Meekly.

   “Aragorn, a word with you.” Deadly.

   Legolas stood his ground as Faramir Took and Prince Eldarion left the study of the King Elessar, heads bowed, hands jammed into pockets. He had not thought that they would actually try sledging down the staircase on shields when he told them of his old pastime, but on hindsight, he should not have been surprised. They were their fathers’ sons, he thought wryly, remembering a young Aragorn in Rivendell, rappelling down the roof of the Hall of Fire, and even Pippin on the Quest, using Gandalf’s staff to knock down apples, and subsequently being turned into a frog. Still, to punish Legolas along with the two young children seemed highly indecent.

    “Legolas, do not even try to get out of this,” Aragorn began, but Legolas silenced him with a look.

     “You may be the King of the West, Aragorn, but you are my friend, and you forget that I am far older than you are. There is no reason for me to scrub the ballroom with the lads,” Legolas snapped. “It wasn’t as if I were sliding down the stairs with them.”

     A snort from Pippin caused them both to glance at him. The hobbit, resplendent in his uniform, was grinning from ear to ear, eyes dancing.

     Ai, Valar, thought Legolas faintly. A tiro nin, Fanuilos.

     “Pippin,” said Aragorn sternly. “You look as though you know something. What is it?”

      Pippin looked over at Legolas before replying. “Legolas, you really must teach me those Elvish battle cries someday, when you have the time.”

    And with those words, Legolas’ doom was sealed.

*****

    Faramir went to his room and cried. The High King had gotten angry with him. The shock of it was something that his poor little mind couldn’t handle, and so he lay face down on his pillow and wept. It wasn’t until the storm had passed that he was aware that Eldarion had climbed up on the bed next to him, and was patting him on the back.

      “It’s all right, Faramir,” the little prince said. “I don’t think that Father was really very angry. He just had to discipline us.”

      “Do you think so?” Faramir asked tremulously, accepting the handkerchief that Eldarion handed him, and wiping his nose.

    “Of course.”

    Faramir nodded, reassured. Eldarion was slightly older than he was, being nine years of age, as opposed to Faramir’s eight, but they had become good friends the moment that they had met. Or, at least, the moment that they had finished sizing each other up. They had had many good times in the past weeks, playing war and getting on the nerves of everyone in the Citadel. They were good partners in crime. Eldarion could get out of almost anything with his good spirits, and as every female in Minas Tirith thought that he was the most adorable thing that they had ever seen, so could Faramir.

     “Really, it won’t be that bad, cleaning the ballroom,” Eldarion continued.

     Faramir sat up and leaned against the headboard next to him. “Why not?”

    “Well, think about it. We’ll be in the ballroom all day, with mops and buckets full of water, cleaning the floors. Think about the fun we’ll have!” Eldarion said, his eyes dancing with mischief.

   Faramir grinned. Put like that, the morrow would be very fun.

To be continued…

Disclaimer: I don’t own them, and I’ll put them back when I’m done!

Chapter Two: The Ballroom

      “The sword was broken!”

      “It has been re-made!”

       Legolas smiled to himself as he entered the ballroom. It seemed that Faramir and Eldarion had arrived earlier than he had, and were engaged in a confrontation that Legolas remembered all too clearly. It was the confrontation between Aragorn and the King of the Dead, and by the looks of it, Eldarion was playing his father, and Faramir was the Dead King. Legolas looked into the ballroom and grinned in spite of himself. The lads were both holding mops, and were surrounded by several large buckets of hot water. They were fiercely into their battle, and it was with a sigh of regret that Legolas interrupted them.

     “You now, you’ll get a lot more cleaning done if you stop using those mops as swords, and start using them for mopping,” he said. “And aren’t I supposed to have one, as well?”

      Eldarion nodded and handed him a mop that lay nearby on the floor. “We already did by the door,” he said. “We decided to wait for you when we got here.”

      Legolas looked back at the shining floor that he had just walked across and shook his head. A swath of floor about six feet wide had been cleaned, right up to where the lads had been playing. The rest of the huge ballroom was untouched. It was going to be a long day.

*****

   “Eldarion, Legolas, do you know how to slide on ice?” Faramir’s voice was loud as he shouted across the room.

        They had spread out to cover more ground, and while they were working quicker, it made conversation difficult. Eldarion and Faramir had been yelling loudly to each other, and Legolas had a distinct suspicion that they would both be more than a little hoarse by the evening.

       “I’m not allowed to slide on ice,” Eldarion said promptly. “My nanneth said that her brother, Elladan, fell through the ice once, and she doesn’t want that to happen to me, so I’m not allowed near it.”

      “Aye, I remember that,” Legolas commented. “And I know how to, Faramir.”

     Faramir was leaning on his mop, a Tookish gleam in his eyes. “You know, we could use the water as ice. It’s slippery enough. And then we wouldn’t have to keep coming back to the buckets.”

     Eldarion’s face lit up. “That’s a brilliant idea!” he cried. “Come on, Faramir, help me!”

     “I don’t think that’s the best id-” Legolas began, but was overruled when the lads sent one large bucket tumbling onto its side. He was suddenly standing in a large and spreading puddle of water. Legolas knew defeat when he saw it.

     “Ai,” he sighed. “Come on, then, let’s dump out the rest. Then we’ll continue mopping, won’t we, lads?”

        “Of course,” Eldarion and Faramir said in unison, utterly innocent. “But we can teach Eldarion to slide while we mop, can’t we, Legolas?” Faramir added.

        “Of course,” agreed Legolas. After all, he thought, what could possibly happen?

*****

       Towards teatime, Aragorn decided to see how things were going with Legolas and the miscreant children. They had been at it since early that morning, and he knew that they were probably famished. He was finished with his work for the day (a tedious business of negotiating trade of horses with Eomer, who took infinite pleasure in making life difficult for him), and so, after having a basket of food sent up to him from the kitchens, he set off for the ballroom.

      It was quiet as he walked down the long corridor leading to the ballroom. Too quiet. Aragorn found himself moving in near silence as he neared the door. It was not above Eldarion to rig elaborate pranks, and he had no desire to come upon one now. Reaching the door, he took a deep breath, counted to three, and pushed it open.

     For a split second, Aragorn thought that the ballroom was empty. He stepped inside, frowning, only to see something that he never forgot for the rest of his years. Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood and Lord of Ithilien, ran and skidded along the length of the wet floor. He had discarded his boots, his silver tunic was flapping, and his long hair was streaming out behind him. He made it from one end of the hall to the other, then skidded around and came to a stop, arms raised in triumph.

        “Master Took, I challenge you to do better,” Legolas cried, laughing. “Come on, Faramir, I’ll catch you.”

       Aragorn looked to the opposite end of the room, and saw Faramir take a running start, followed closely by Eldarion. He cleared his throat slightly, and Legolas whipped around. Horror wrote itself across his fair features, and Aragorn grinned broadly. Then Legolas keeled over as Faramir hit him in the knees, and Eldarion landed solidly on the Elf’s chest. Aragorn cringed and hurried forward.

       “You said you would catch me, Legolas!” Faramir cried, climbing out from under Legolas’ legs. “Oh! Hello, your Majesty.”

       Merciful Valar, Legolas thought weakly. Take me now, Elbereth; I’ll never live this one down.

     “Hello, Father!” cried Eldarion, jumping up and running to his father. “Legolas and Faramir were teaching me how to slide! We had to use water, because Nanneth won’t let us on real ice, and we finished the ballroom with it! It just has to dry now, see?”

     Aragorn caught his son up and grinned at him. “Yes, I see. Very good, all of you. Are you all right, Legolas?”

     “Yes, Estel, I am,” groused Legolas. He was too embarrassed to be caught out yet again, playing with children. Maybe it was time he settled down and had his own. “As well as I can be with two impertinent lads causing mischief wherever I go.”

      Aragorn grinned, and looked at Faramir. “Here, you go, Faramir, there’s food enough for you all in the basket. Why don’t you find us a nice, dry place on the floor to eat it?”

     “All right!” Faramir agreed, and plopped down at the High King’s feet. “Here’s a good place.”

       Aragorn grinned and sat down, and soon they were all feasting on sandwiches and cider. Even Legolas felt better as he ate, and deigned to speak to Aragorn, whom he was still feeling a tad resentful towards. At last, the meal was finished, and they lounged back, stuffed full. After a moment, Aragorn spoke.

      “I hope you lads have learned your lesson. You did a good job. Now please, no more shenanigans for a while, all right? Our guests will be arriving for the annual Council this week, and I don’t want them to see you as problems. You must promise me that you will behave.”

     “I promise,” Faramir said quickly.

     “Me, too,” agreed Eldarion.

     “And I will not encourage them,” Legolas added.

       Aragorn nodded, satisfied. He knew, though, that the arrival of people from as far away as Rivendell and Laketown would spark the curiosity of these lads. He had not one doubt about that.

To be continued.

A/N: The bit where Legolas slide across the ballroom was inspired by Tom Cruise in the movie “Risky Business”. The idea was brought to me by my friend Elisabeth.

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything and I’ll put them back when I’m done!

Author’s Note: Just a tad bit of angst here, then back to the cheeky bits.

Chapter Three: Arrivals and a Case of Slight Misfortune

     The annual Council of the West was something that Aragorn had started when he became King. Once every year, in the early fall, ambassadors from all over the realms of Gondor and Arnor arrived in Minas Tirith to tell the King of the doings in their lands, and to settle any disputes that might have arisen. The citizens of Minas Tirith had made a festival out of it, with a large fair held in the lower circles, and plenty of good food and song.

      Two days after the lads and Legolas had finished the ballroom, the first ambassadors began to arrive. Elladan and Elrohir came from Rivendell with an entourage of Elves, King Brand and his son, Cairbre, from Esgaroth, and Gloin and Dwalin came from the Lonely Mountain. Eomer, Lothiriel, and their son, Eothain, arrived from Rohan on the same day as Eowyn, Faramir, and their two children arrived from Ithilien. Merry and Pippin were, of course, for the Shire. Even more arrived after they did.

       Eldarion and Faramir had been instructed, in no uncertain terms, to stay in the family quarters. They had managed to convince Diamond to at least let them stay in the library, and so there they were, sitting on the overstuffed sofas, playing games and being bored. It was a wet, rainy day, and there really wasn’t much to do that didn’t involve some type of mischief.

     “We ought to have our own council,” said Eldarion suddenly, sitting up from where he was slumped on the sofa. “We can invite all of the children!”

      Faramir looked over at him curiously. “What would we talk about?”

      Eldarion paused, thinking. In truth, there were many things that he could see the need for a children’s council on. “More toys for the playroom. What games we should play, and maybe we can even draw up a list to present to Father, on why we should be allowed to ride ponies in the Citadel.”

      “That’s a good idea!” cried Faramir, though in truth he rather doubted the part about the ponies. “Who will we invite?”

        “Prince Faramir’s children, Theodwyn and Rowan, King Eomer’s son, Eothain, and any other children who come to the City. I’ll make a list,” Eldarion said, looking around for paper. He spotted a box of paper and ink high up on a bookshelf, and jumped up. “I’m going to get that!”

       Faramir frowned. “Isn’t it a little high up? Maybe we should get my father to help us get it down.”

       “No, I can get it, it isn’t so high,” Eldarion replied, and started climbing up the shelf, while Faramir watched anxiously from below. “It’s all right, Faramir, what could possibly happen?”

*****

       “The library is this way. I think you’ll like it, Theo, it’s much larger than your father’s.”

     “Really? It must be very large, then!”

     Eowyn grinned down at her young daughter. Trust Theodwyn to want to see the library after they had been in Minas Tirith for only an hour. She was truly her father’s daughter, with her love of books.

     “King Elessar told me that Eldarion and Faramir Took are there, too, so you can see them, as well,” Eowyn continued. “They-“

      She broke off as a loud crash, louder than anything she had heard since the end of the War, echoed down the corridor. It was the loud crash of something infinitely heavy falling, and it had come from the library.

     “What the…? Come on, Theodwyn!”

      Eowyn sprinted down the corridor, long skirts caught up in one hand, and burst into the library. She stood in the doorway for a moment, an expression of shock on her face. One of the great bookshelves had fallen, scattering its contents on the floor. The lads were nowhere to be seen.

      “Eldarion? Faramir?” the White Lady cried, panic tinging her voice. A soft whimper, coming from under the massive bookcase, answered her.

      With a Rohirric curse that would have shocked any who understood her, Eowyn leapt at the bookshelf and tried to pull it up. It was too heavy for her to manage alone, and she turned to Theodwyn, who was standing by the door.

     “Go get your father and the king, and Pippin Took, and any else that you find! Tell them that a bookshelf in the library has fallen on their sons. Hurry! Go!”

       As Theodwyn pelted off, Eowyn took a deep breath, and began talking in a calm voice to the lads, comforting them, all while searching for a way to get them out. While the books had kept them from being crushed, she didn’t know how long they would last.

        “Please let the men hurry,” she prayed.

*****

       Aragorn, Eomer, Faramir, Legolas, Gimli and the hobbits were talking in the King’s study when Theodwyn burst in and screamed, “A bookcase fell on Eldarion and Faramir Took in the library! Help!”

      Aragorn and Pippin, without saying a word, leapt up and ran from the room. The rest of the men stared at the little girl for a moment before reacting. Faramir swept his daughter up in his arms as he hurried from the room.

      “Where’s Mamma?” he asked her.

      “With them. She sent me to get help,” Theodwyn gasped.

      Faramir nodded and continued on his way.

      When they got to the library, last of the group, Aragorn and the others were pulling the bookcase up. Faramir set Theodwyn on a nearby chair and went to help them. At last, the shelf was up, although books were everywhere, and they were able to see the two little lads that lay under it.

     “Faramir,” Pippin croaked, dropping to his knees next to his son, and scooping him up. Faramir moaned a bit, and Pippin breathed a sigh of relief. “He’s alive.”

     “So is Eldarion,” said Aragorn, leaning over his son. “And what’s more, he’s conscious. Eldarion? What happened?”

       “I was trying to get paper, and the bookshelf fell down on us. Is Faramir all right?”

       Eowyn had crossed the library and was kneeling down next to Pippin, examining Faramir. She had learned to be a healer in the past years, and now knew how to quickly check for injuries. “His arm is broken,” she said, feeling the little hobbit’s left arm with gentle fingers. “But it’s a clean break, so do not worry, Pippin, he’ll be fine.”

        A sigh of relief spread to all of the men.

     “It’s good they’re all right,” said Eomer. “That startled me to no end.”

     “Aye,” grumbled Gimli. “It’s a mark of their parentage that they lived through that.”

     Aragorn’s face was pale as he lifted his son up and faced them all. “If you’ll all kindly excuse me, I’ll set these two to rights, and then talk to you later.”

      “I’ll see to the new arrivals, your majesty,” Faramir (Éowyn’s, that is) said.

      Aragorn nodded. “Thank you.”

     *****

           Faramir Took woke up later in the evening. He found himself in a large, fluffy bed, with pillows under his head, and his left arm splinted and bound tightly to his chest. It throbbed something awful, and he blinked back tears, not wishing to seem soft.

       “Faramir? Are you awake, love?”

       Faramir turned his head and saw his mamma, Diamond, sitting beside his bed in a chair. She looked at him with such love and concern that he reached his good arm out to her and burst into tears.

      “Shh, love, it’s all right. You’ve had a scare, and your arm is broken, but you’ll be all right, I promise,” Diamond soothed, stroking his soft hair.

       “Is Eldarion all right, too?” Faramir asked, pulling his head back and looking at her.

        “Yes, he only has a sprained ankle. He talked Legolas into sneaking him in here to see you, but then Queen Arwen made him go back to bed. You can see him in the morning,” Diamond replied.

     Faramir nodded and leaned his cheek against her shoulder again. His mamma rocked him until he fell asleep. As she lay him back down, the door opened and Pippin came in.

    “Did he wake up, then?” he asked.

    “Yes, he did, and he seems perfectly all right,” Diamond replied. “The King or Lady Eowyn should look at him in the morning, though.”

     Pippin put his arm around his wife and they looked down at their sleeping son. “There is a legion of children in the hallway, who want to know if he’s all right. I suppose that I ought to tell them he is.”

     Diamond grinned. “Why do I have the feeling that said children will help him get up to his normal tricks again, tomorrow? It should be an interesting council.”

TBC

Disclaimer: I don’t own them, and I’ll put them back safely when I’m done!

Chapter Four: The Fellowship of the Green Dragon

   Faramir woke up to soft voices, and someone touching his face.

   “He’s really small, Elda,” said a girl’s voice.

   “That’s alright. He has brilliant ideas, Theo, and he can charm anything. He’s coming.”     That voice was Eldarion’s. Faramir opened his eyes, and saw his friend and a strange little girl with long golden hair and green eyes standing next to his bed.

     “Good morning, Faramir!” Eldarion said, when he saw that Faramir was awake. “This is Lady Theodwyn, daughter of Lady Eowyn and Prince Faramir. We’ve come to see if you can come to our council.”

      Faramir yawned, and tried to sit up one handed. Lady Theodwyn-who looked to be about his age, only bigger-put a hand on his back and pushed him up. Faramir smiled shyly at her. “Hello.”

    “Hello,” she replied. “We already asked your parents; they said that you can come if you feel better. Do you?”

     Faramir hesitated. His left arm didn’t hurt nearly so much, and he was well rested from the long sleep that he had had. “Yes,” he said. “I can go.”

     “Good!” cried Eldarion. “Theo, go get Lady Took, and tell her that Faramir’s awake, and wants to play, please.” Theodwyn nodded and ran from the room. “My father says that we have to play gently, because I can only hobble, and your arm is broken.”

     Faramir frowned, concerned. “Did you get hurt, too?”

     Eldarion raised his foot proudly, displaying the bandage around the ankle. “I’ve got a sprained ankle. I can’t really walk, but Theo helps me around. I asked her to this morning. She’s a good helper, and very smart.”

     Faramir nodded. Then, the door opened and Diamond came bustling in. Eldarion smiled at her.

      “Good morning, Lady Took,” he said.

       “Eldarion, how many times must I tell you, I’m not Lady Took, I’m Missus Took,” Diamond asked, laughing. “We’re not so formal as that in the Shire.”

      Eldarion grinned, and Diamond quickly dressed Faramir, being mindful of his broken arm.

    “There, love,” she said, when he was dressed in trousers, a clean shirt and a proper green waistcoat. His arm rested in a small sling. “You look quite nice. Now come on, there’s breakfast to be had.”

      Diamond led the children from the Took and Brandybuck’s quarters to the great Dining Hall. All of the ambassadors and royalty were seated, and eating. Faramir found himself sitting with the children at one end of the table, near to the Sons of Elrond and Legolas. There were a lot of children, Faramir thought. There were four that he could see. There was Theodwyn; another dark haired, bright-eyed lad who looked as though he were her brother; Prince Elfwine of Rohan, whom Faramir had met, and liked a lot; and one little girl who could only be an Elf, she was so beautiful. She had long, almost black hair, and big blue eyes. She grinned at Faramir when she saw him staring at her, and he ducked is head and blushed.

      “Mae govannen,” the Elf child said to him. “I am Elanorallie, from Imladris. You must be Faramir Took. My adar knows yours.”

       Faramir looked up, curiosity sparked. “Who is your adar?”

       “I am,” spoke up one Son of Elrond, which one, Faramir had no idea. “Ella is my daughter.”

        Legolas, seeing the utterly confused look on Faramir’s face, came to the rescue.     “This is Elrohir, Faramir,” he said, and the hobbit nodded. He had never seen an Elf child before.

      Breakfast progressed without a hitch. Introductions were made, and Faramir learned that the other dark haired lad was Rowan, son of Prince Faramir. Cairbre, son of the ambassador from Laketown, was too old to sit with the children, much to their disappointment, as he was apparently quite fun (according to Eldarion). As soon as was polite, Eldarion led them from the table.

     “Poor Estel,” said Elladan as they watched the children parade out in a close, whispering group. “He has no idea what is about to hit him.”

    Legolas frowned over at his friend. “What is that supposed to mean?”

    Elladan grinned and leaned back in his chair. “If Faramir and Eldarion alone are troublemakers, what do you suppose will happen when you add one Rohir, two crossbreed Rohirrim and Numenorians, and that particular Elf child?”

    Legolas groaned as Elrohir laughed. Why did he have the sinking feeling that this group was a walking fiasco?

     “To children,” he said resignedly, raising his glass. “Long may they keep us on our toes.”

*****

     Eldarion directed his followers to the playroom in the Royal Apartments. It was a bright, cheerful room, perfectly suited for a large number of children, and it contained no large pieces of furniture that could fall on them. They sat down in a semi-circle in front of the window seat, where Eldarion was perched.

     “I hereby call this council to order,” The Prince said, looking over his subjects.

      “What are we going to talk about?” Elfwine asked, curiously. “Are we going to have a war?”

    “A war? We would get into trouble for fighting, Elfwine!” Theodwyn replied. “Besides, we don’t have anything to fight a war about. There isn’t a Ring anymore.”

       Elanorallie looked profoundly relieved. “Thank the Valar for that,” she said. “That was a grim time.”

     Five pairs of eyes turned to the young Elf in astonishment. “You-you weren’t there, were you?” Faramir faltered. “It was a long time ago.”

     “Yes, I was. I’m an Elf, I’ve been around for several decades already.”

     The eyes turned back to Eldarion, the supposed oldest of the group. He hurriedly began talking again, not wising to lose his ground. “I thought that we could make a fellowship, like our families were part of. We don’t have to fight for anything. I think that we should have a Games Contest, instead.”

     This was something new. A games contest would be very interesting, and quite do able in the Citadel. They could play all kinds of things, too. There were Rohirric games that Elfwine could teach, Shire games from Faramir, and Gondorian games from Eldarion, Theodwyn, and Rowan. Even Elanorallie-who insisted that they call her by the same nickname as her family, Ella-had something to contribute. Eldarion wrote it all down on a sheet of paper, which he took safely from a drawer, where Arwen had placed an entire stack the night before.

      “Alright,” he said, “Now we need to name our Fellowship. Are there any ideas?”

      “The Fellowship of the Rangers,” suggested Rowan.

      “The Fellowship of the Rohirrim,” said Elfwine, a blatant son of Eorl.

       “But we’re not all Rohirrim,” replied Eldarion. “Theo, Faramir, Ella, what do you think?”

      “The Fellowship of Friends,” said Theodwyn, and Ella seconded her.     

      “The Fellowship of the Green Dragon!” Faramir cried, thinking of his father’s favorite Hobbiton pub.

    This was greeted with a resounding chorus of “Yes!” and “Brilliant idea!” and one, “I’ve always wanted a dragon!". Faramir grinned proudly, pleased that his idea had been accepted.

      “I hereby dub us the Fellowship of the Green Dragon!” Eldarion said, quite grandly. “All in favor, say aye!”

         “Aye!” the children cried in unison.

         Theodwyn stood up and turned to them. “Alright, what should we do first?”

        I know a game,” Ella said quietly, they all turned to her. “My ada and I play it with the others in Imladris. You have to try to catch any designated Elf.”

     Five young faces lit up. This was a game that they would enjoy.

     “So,” said Elfwine, “Who should we hunt?”

TBC.

Author’s Note:  I really couldn’t resist giving at least one of the Sons of Elrond a family. They’re certainly old enough for them.

    The ages of the children are thus: Faramir: 8; Eldarion: 9; Theodwyn: 9; Eothain: 8; Rowan: 7, and Ella: 26 in Elf years, 9 in human years.

Chapter Five: The Great Elf Hunt

  Legolas Greenleaf was not a coward. He had fought in the Ring War alongside Aragorn, had battled spiders in Mirkwood for centuries, and had even had an occasional encounter with trolls in the Trollshaws. Still, one would not have known this from the way he hurried down the hallway in the guest quarters of the Citadel, periodically glancing over his shoulder, and looking much like a frightened rabbit. It was as he was thus occupied that he unwittingly ran into Eowyn. He leapt back with an uncharacteristic squeak, than sighed with relief as he saw that it was she.

     “Lady Eowyn! Oh, fair lady of Ithilien, I beg you to help me,” Legolas said formally, trying to regain the dignity that he felt he’d lost.

     “Legolas? Whatever is the matter?” Eowyn asked. Something had obviously rattled the normally serene Elf, which in her experience was a rare occurrence.

     Legolas glanced back over his shoulder, seemed to hear something, seized Eowyn’s arm, and dragged her after him into a sheltered alcove. Eowyn tensed, wondering what foul enemy was coming that Legolas was so worried about avoiding. Not two moments later, the children, who had announced at luncheon that they were now the Fellowship of the Green Dragon, crept by.

     “He went this way. Come on, he’s probably gone to the library. Legolas does like to read,” Eldarion assured his friends, leading them along the hall. “We’ll catch him, never fear.”

   As soon as they were safely away, Legolas breathed a sigh of relief and sagged against the wall. Eowyn watched him, puzzled.

    “Legolas, why are you hiding from the children?” she asked him curiously. “Surely they can mean you no harm.”

    Legolas raised one eyebrow at her in a manner that would have reminded Eowyn of King Thranduil, had she ever met him. In a few words, he explained the basis of the game to her. The White Lady was biting back unseemly laughter by the time he had finished.

     “They hunt you so that they can claim to have caught an Elf?” Eowyn said.

     Legolas sighed in frustration-didn’t she understand? “It is very difficult for a mortal to catch an Elf if he does not want to be caught. However,” he added quickly, seeing Eowyn open her mouth to ask the inevitable question, “If the mortal in question has certain incredible skills in tracking, it can be very difficult for the Elf.”

    “Legolas, they’re only children,” Eowyn replied. “Not rangers and trackers like Faramir and Aragorn.”

    “Still,” said Legolas. “If they ask, you haven’t seen me.”

   And leaving Eowyn standing at the entrance to the alcove, Legolas strode away in the opposite direction than the children had gone. Eowyn watched him go, perplexed.

      “Males,” she muttered. “Paranoid, all of them.”

*****

    “Ouch! Rowan, move your foot!”

    “That’s Faramir’s foot, Elfwine.”

    “Well, Faramir, move your foot!”

    “I can’t, you’re sitting on my leg.”

     There were three very uncomfortable little lads crouched under a table in the library. Eldarion had posted Elfwine, Faramir, and Rowan there to keep watch for Legolas, should he come in. They had been sitting under the table for close to an hour, and there had been no sign of any Elves. The enjoyment of the hunt was wearing thin quickly.

     At last, Elfwine sighed and rolled out from under the table. “Come on, we’re all princes, aren’t we? We don’t have to stay crouched under a table like orcs in a hole. We can at least sit on the sofa.”

    With that, the young Prince of Rohan strode across the library and sat down on a sofa. Faramir and Rowan looked at each other.

     “Are you a prince?” Rowan whispered.

     “I don’t think so,” replied Faramir. “Are you?”

     “No. But I’m not an orc, either. Let’s sit down with Elfwine.”

     The lads climbed out and went to Elfwine at the sofa. It was definitely more comfortable; they spent several minutes stretching their cramped legs. Then they sat back and continued their lookout in silence. After a while, Faramir, who was beginning to get quite hungry, opened his mouth to ask when teatime was. However, he was never able to ask the question.

     “We’ve got him! We’ve got him!!” three young voices screeched, out in the corridor. The lads leapt up and charged into the hallway, following the sound of the voices. They turned a corner and saw Eldarion, Ella, and Theodwyn leaning into the door of a closet, which was straining as their hunted quarry tried to escape the trap.

     “We caught him!” Eldarion exulted when he saw his friends arrive. His ankle had healed quite rapidly, and he could do a hobbling run. “He saw us coming, and ducked into the closet, and we trapped him!”

      “That’s good. Now what do we do with him?” Elfwine asked.

      They all turned to Ella. The elf child hesitated, than said. “Now we exchange him for any prisoners that his side has taken.”

    The children looked at each other. Other side? Prisoners?

    “Well, maybe we can send Faramir to the Elves as an emissary,” Theodwyn suggested.

    “Good idea,” Eldarion said. “What do you say, Faramir? Faramir?”

     They all looked around in bewilderment for the hobbit, but it was no use. Faramir had disappeared.

*****

    Unbeknownst to the Fellowship of the Green Dragon, the other Elves in the Citadel had taken pity on their prince. As Faramir, Elfwine and Rowan had run down the hallway to join their companions, Elladan, eldest son of Elrond, had grabbed the small hobbit by the collar and picked him up, clapping one hand over his mouth before hurrying away.

     “Faramir, the Elves are taking their tea in the courtyard. Perhaps you would care to join us?” Elladan asked when they were safely away.

     Faramir rather thought that he should be with his friends, but he was very hungry, and he was a growing hobbit, too. “Yes, thank you, Lord Elladan. That would be very nice,” he said, and allowed Elladan to carry him away.

     The Elves were seated on the stone benches in the Courtyard of the White Tree, baskets of food at their feet. They all hailed Elladan and Faramir as they approached, and Elrohir stood and bowed.

    “Master Hobbit,” he said with a smile. “Do you like roasted chicken?”

    The Elves quite shamelessly stuffed Faramir as full of food as they could. The hobbit lad enjoyed it very much, and he enjoyed their songs, too. The Rivendell Elves sung a song about their valley, and the Elves from Mirkwood sang their infamous barrel song. Faramir, feeling that he had to give something back, sang them the jewel song* that he had learned in Rohan, and several Shire songs. These were all met by cheers and laughter, and Faramir felt greatly lauded. By the time the meal had ended, he was feeling quite comfortable with the Elves.

     “Faramir,” said Elladan, as they cleaned up. “I regret to inform you that you are our prisoner now. Just until we get Legolas back from your companions. Don’t worry, you will be treated very well. What say you?”

     Faramir regarded the Elf lord solemnly, then stood up and extended his wrists. “I’d rather be the prisoner of a gentlelf than a free hobbit in a world gone mad!” he declared.

     The Elves smiled at each other. The game was afoot.

TBC

*The Jewels song can be found in my story, “For the Love of Hobbits”.

Disclaimer: I don’t own them, and I promise to put them back when I’m done.

Chapter Six: In Which The Fathers Take a Stand

     King Thranduil dismounted his horse, and gazed appreciatively up at the Citadel. In the years since the end of the War, the Elves had coaxed life into the City-not human life, although that came, too, but the life of many plants. The City that had been purely stone the last time that Thranduil had visited was now also a place of green. The Elves had done well.

     On entering the palace, Thranduil’s gaze fell upon a diminutive and familiar sight.

     “Well met, my lord Thain,” he said formally, bowing as Pippin bowed to him. “I trust that you have been well since you left the forest?”

      “Very well, your highness,” Pippin said. “Life has continued on like normal.”

      Thranduil thought that he detected a glimmer of…something…in the hobbit’s eyes, but ignored it as he was led to Aragorn’s study. If there were something amiss, he would have felt it long ago.

    Pippin left the Elvenking at the door to Aragorn’s study, returning to his post with a somewhat wicked grin on his face. He had the sneaking suspicion that the two monarchs were going to be in for an interesting afternoon.

      “Mae govannen, Elessar,” Thranduil said to the man whom he had trained in tracking under the eves of the Greenwood. “You look as though you have something on your mind.”

     Indeed, the King Elessar was frowning at something on his desk. It looked to be two letters, Thranduil saw as he came closer. Aragorn pulled himself together as he approached.

      “Welcome, King Thranduil,” he said, rising. “I was just reading these letters-appeals for my judgment in a most unusual case. Here, read them. I imagine that they will involve you, as well.”

    Thranduil frowned, wondering what in Middle Earth an appeal to the King of Gondor could possibly have to do with himself. He took the papers, however, and as he read them, his eyebrows climbed nearly to his hairline.

     One letter was written in childish handwriting, though the paper was neat. “To His Majesty, King Elessar, High King of Gondor and Arnor,” it read. “We, the undersigned, beg your judgment on our case. The Elves of Mirkwood, Ithilien, and Rivendell have committed a serious villainy. They have taken captive our friend, the hobbit Faramir Took, future Thain of the Shire. We beg your aid in recovering him. Sincerely, Prince Eldarion of Gondor, Prince Elfwine of Rohan, Lady Theodwyn and Lord Rowan of Ithilien, and Lady Elanorallie of Rivendell.”

     Thranduil looked up at Aragorn in astonishment. “Go on, read the next one,” Aragorn said.

     “To His Majesty, the High King Elessar, King of the Realms of Gondor and Arnor. We, the Elves of Rivendell, Mirkwood, and Ithilien, request that you preside over a case of injustice. Our good friend and prince, Legolas of Mirkwood and Ithilien, has been taken prisoner by a small group of miscreants that call themselves the Fellowship of the Green Dragon. In retaliation, we have taken their friend, the Ernil I Pheriannath Faramir Took, future Thain of the Shire, in his place. We will return him when our friend and prince is returned to us. Sincerely yours, the Elves of Rivendell, Mirkwood, and Ithilien.” There followed a list of no less than forty signatures.

   Thranduil lowered the letters and looked back at Aragorn. Words failed him, and he glanced back at the two letters before exclaiming, “What is going on here?”

   Aragorn gave Thranduil a seat next to the fire, and sent a servant for some refreshments. As they waited, he told the Elvenking of the events of the past several days. The Council had proceeded very well, all things considered, but in the meantime, the children of the visiting ambassadors had banded together to form their Fellowship. He skirted lightly over the issue of Legolas’ involvement with their early antics, instead moving on to this more serious issue.

    “You have been a monarch far longer than I, King Thranduil,” Aragorn said. “What do you think that the best course of action is?”

*****

    Theodwyn answered the door to the nursery when the knock came. Outside stood a liveried Meriadoc Brandybuck, a wry grin upon his face.

    “A message from the King, milady,” he said, holding out a sealed envelope. Theodwyn took it and curtsied; Merry bowed in response and left.

     “What does he say?” asked Eldarion, springing off of the couch and going up to her. The rest of the children crowded around Theodwyn as opened the letter and read it aloud.

    “To the Fellowship of the Green Dragon,

            You are hereby summoned to a meeting with the King Elessar today, the Thirty-First of October, at five o’clock in the evening. Bring any hostages that you may have acquired.

~King Elessar.”

      “Ladies and gentlemen,” said Eldarion. “Go get dressed in your finest. We have an audience with the King in one hour!”

*****

    “Well, this is unusual.”

     Faramir, Prince of Ithilien and Steward of Gondor shook his head at the monarchs in front of him. Sitting or standing around the throne, dressed in their very finest royal clothing and crowns, were Aragorn of Gondor, Eomer of Rohan, and Thranduil of Mirkwood, and one Guard of the Citadel-Peregrin Took.

     “Is there a reason for this, my lord?” Faramir asked. He hoped there was; he had been called away from his fair wife in a moment of rare peace and quiet.

     “There is,” Aragorn said, a slight smile on his face. “It involves all of our children. An interesting half an hour should follow, Faramir.”

     “Yes, sometimes measures such as these become necessary when children are in need of appeasement,” King Thranduil added. He looked rather smug, Faramir thought. Dangerously smug. Aragorn looked the same.

  Faramir took his place in the standing line of fathers and monarchs, wondering what in Overheaven’s name was going to happen. The only other time that he had seen that particular look on Aragorn’s face, Eldarion and Theodwyn had convinced him to set up an edict to protect a baby dragon that they had claimed was living in the highest tower. Yes, whatever was going to happen, it would be interesting.

      Just then, the doors to the Hall were opened, and two lines of people walked in, one tall, leading a very short figure, the other short and leading a very tall figure. Both lines stopped in amazement at the sight before them, and two voices cried in something close to horror, “King Thranduil?!”

TBC

Disclaimer: I don’t own them, and I’ll put them back safely when I’m done!

Chapter Seven: Battle Plans and Ladies Plans

     Legolas had often wished for the floor to open up and consume him, but never so much as he did now. When Elladan and Elrohir cried out in shock and chagrin, Legolas had reeled and leaned heavily against Rowan, who tried to hold him up. A string of Quenya words tumbled incoherently out of his gagged mouth, words that he was truly glad that the little lad could not understand.

     Thranduil, for his part, ignored the shocked cries of his name, and traded glances with Aragorn. The High King’s eyebrows were raised, and the gleam in his eyes belied the stern expression on his face. Thranduil noticed that the other were not doing nearly so well at hiding their amusement. Prince Faramir looked completely bemused, King Eomer seemed to have developed a twitch in his cheek, and Pippin was grinning openly. The Elvenking chose not to say anything, allowing Aragorn to take control of the situation.

    Aragorn, for his part, was trying desperately to have a steady voice when he spoke. Faramir Took was faring very well at the hands of the Elves, who were nearly always kind to their captives. His broken arm was still in its sling, but his good arm had a soft rope tied around the wrist. The rope was attached to the belt of one Haldir, formerly of Lorien. Legolas, on the other hand, had not fared well at all at the hands of Men, or children, as his captors were. He was bound tightly at the wrists, and was gagged. Theodwyn, Rowan, and Elanorallie were surrounding him, with Eldarion and Elfwine acting as ambassadors. The children got over their surprise first.

     “Your highnesses,” Eldarion began in a loud voice, bowing to the fathers, “We have come to seek your aid in winning back our friend, the Ernil I Pheriannath, Prince Faramir Took, who has been unjustly taken prisoner.”

     “I’m not a prince,” Faramir whispered to Haldir. “I don’t know why they keep calling me one.”

     “Well, I’ve learned that when you’re given a title, it’s best to accept it, if it’s a good one,” Haldir murmured in response.

      Faramir nodded, and they turned their attention to Elladan, who had taken over the situation. Elrohir, seeing as he had a daughter in the Fellowship of the Green Dragon, had wisely decided to stay out of the general conflict after seeing King Thranduil, and stood further back in the line.

      “King Elessar,” Elladan said, “We have only taken the hobbit captive to ensure that we would get Prince Legolas back. These children have been stalking Legolas in a most unsightly way. They have gone so far as to hunt him and capture him, as though he were a wild animal of rare beauty, to be held in captivity.”

      If any of the fathers snickered at this statement, the two parties ignored it. Eomer, however, walked with a slight limp for several days afterward, a result of Faramir, the Lord Steward, stepping on his foot swiftly, and with much force.

       “What would you have me do, my lords and ladies?” Aragorn asked. “It seems you all have a cause for grief. Perhaps my fellow royals have an idea?”

    Aragorn glanced over at the others, who were all struggling to treat this like a normal complaint. Pippin, who seemed completely unconcerned with the situation, spoke first.

     “They ought to have a battle, my lord,” he said. “To see who gets their friend back first.”

     Aragorn glanced back at the two lines of complainants, and saw that the Elves were getting almost evil smiles on their fair faces. He hastily looked back at Pippin.

     “A battle of what, Peregrin?” he asked.

     “Oh, anything,” Pippin said easily. “Make it an eating contest.”

     “A horse race!” called a female voice, and every head in the hall turned towards the rows of pillars that lined the walls. No one could be seen, but neither Aragorn nor Faramir had any doubts as to who was standing behind the pillars. It could only be the Thain’s lady, the princess of Ithilien, and the Evenstar of Gondor. The Steward and the King exchanged an exasperated glance. Was the whole of Gondor in on this madness?

      “I second the idea of a horse race, my lord,” Eomer said, completely straight faced. “I know that we have at least two very good riders among the children.”

     “Yes, it seems a good idea,” Thranduil agreed. “What say you, my lord Steward?”

     Faramir, completely convinced now that his liege-lord was quite mad, could only nod. If they were going to play along with the children, so would he. He just couldn’t believe that the Elves, of all creatures, had gotten into it. “Yes, it’s a fine idea. But may I suggest making it a series of contests, instead of just one. Three, perhaps, and the team that wins the most times is the team who surrenders their prisoner.”

     The fathers looked back at the two groups expectantly. “Well?” Aragorn asked. “Does that sound fair to you?”

      “Aye, my lord,” Elladan said, bowing.

      “Yes, your majesty,” agreed Eldarion.

       “All right. You have my leave to go prepare now. You meet at the gates of the City at dawn tomorrow,” Aragorn said.

       The groups nodded, bowed again, and left the hall. As soon as the doors had shut behind them, the monarchs all dropped their facades and laughed, long and loud, save Faramir, who looked rather confused.

     “Why are we encouraging them, if I may ask?” he said. “Shouldn’t we put a stop to this madness?”

     “Ah, they are children,” Thranduil replied. “It will give them something to do. And the Elves are great lovers of mischief during peaceful times,” he added, anticipating Faramir’s next question.

    Faramir just nodded. Mischief was an understatement.

*****

    Behind the pillars, where they had been largely forgotten by the men, stood the ladies. Eowyn, Arwen, and Diamond were quite interested in the turn that their children’s game had taken, and more than a little amused. They had quite shamelessly used the back entrance to the hall to eavesdrop on the council.

      Queen Arwen leaned gracefully backed against one of the pillars. “My brothers have stuck their oar into the matter,” she said. “I believe that it is high time we join in this escapade. It is hardly little anymore.”

     Eowyn laughed softly. “From the way that they solved the problem, all of Gondor and Rohan will be a part of it, by the end.”

    “What do you propose we do, then?” asked Diamond, a Tookish grin on her face.

   Arwen smiled, and beckoned them closer. “I have a plan.”

TBC

Disclaimer: I don’t own them, and I’ll put them back safely when I’m done!

Chapter Eight: Enter the Dwarf

     Thwack! “You are NOT a better rider!”

    Whack! “Your skills on a horse do not hold a candle to mine!”

    Crash!   “My mother is the Lady of the Shield-arm! She has taught me well!”

   Smack!  “Well, MY father is the King of Rohan! And he’s a better rider than your mother!”

    “Take that back!”

    “Never!”

    “Take it back!”

    “No!!”

    The jab was more than Theodwyn could take. She flew at Elfwine and tackled him, pummeling him with her small fists. Elfwine grabbed a hank of her long golden hair in response, and pulled.

    Eldarion looked from the feuding cousins around his playroom. It looked like a small war had been fought in it, and in truth, one had been. Theodwyn and Elfwine both had their hearts set on being the one to ride in the horse race the next day, and they had come to blows about it. Ella and Rowan had decided that it was best to stay out of the argument, and were sitting in the window seat playing chess. Eldarion knew that he had to stop the fight, as he was the Prince Regent, but he also knew that to come upon either of the cousins when they were angry was to flirt with danger. Feeling a little desperate, he looked over at Legolas.

    The Elf was seated in an armchair across the room, still bound, but ungagged. He was watching the argument with seemingly great interest.

      “Legolas, help!” Eldarion cried, wincing as Theodwyn bit Elfwine’s arm, eliciting a scream from the young prince. “What should we do?”

      “Do? I don’t believe that I can do anything,” responded Legolas calmly. If there was a touch of frost in his voice, Eldarion ignored it. “Besides, I fear that I would only make it worse.”

     Eldarion sighed, and braced himself to join the fray. He took a step forward, hesitated, then jumped a foot high when the door burst open. Merry Brandybuck and his wife, Estella (both of whom had been strangely absent from the council that afternoon, for reasons unknown), marched in. They immediately went straight to the battling cousins, who were now mercilessly beating each other with pillows, and yanked them apart.

    “See here, young lady,” Merry said to Theodwyn, whom he was bodily holding back. “This is no way for a lady to act!”

       “I’m not a lady, I’m a shield maiden!” screeched Theodwyn.

       “You’re not a shield maiden, you have to live in Rohan to be a shield maiden!” yelled Elfwine, struggling against Estella.

       “Oh, for goodness sakes! Merry, maybe we ought to call their parents in,” Estella said. “Then they can sort this out.”

      Immediately, Theodwyn and Elfwine went limp and silent. Parents were never a good thing to have around during fights. Merry and Estella traded a glance, than let them go. Eldarion gave them a grateful smile, and said, “I will decide who rides in the race tomorrow. After all, it’s my city.”

     “Very good, then” said Merry. “We’ll leave you to it, then, Eldarion.”

      The Brandybucks left the playroom, and Eldarion faced his friends, arms folded. Ella and Rowan turned from the window seat to watch, their game momentarily forgotten. Theodwyn straightened her torn skirt and glared defiantly at the Prince.

      Eldarion hesitated for a moment. Whoever he picked, the other would be angry with him. Finally, he made his choice. “Elfwine will ride in the race. But he has to apologize to Theodwyn first.”

     Elfwine’s face lit up like a sunrise. “Sorry, Theodwyn!” he said.

     Theodwyn glared at him, then leveled her hurt gaze on Eldarion. “Lads!” she cried angrily, and stormed from the room.

     “Don’t worry, Eldarion, she’ll come back. She always does,” Rowan said.

     Eldarion nodded. He felt bad, but there was no time for that now. They had to prepare for the next day.

*****

      Gimli son of Gloin had seen a great deal during his long years. Never, though, had he seen the young daughter of the Lady Eowyn and Prince Faramir come streaking across the corridor, sobbing with anger. He did not even have time to move out of the way before she ran into him. The Dwarf’s solid bulk prevented him from falling, but the tiny Gondorian went sprawling on her back, and play there on the carpet, crying noisily.

     Gimli was rather unsure just what he should do. He did not have much experience with children-they were rather scarce in the Dwarven halls-and little girls were most definitely not something that he knew how to handle. Orcs? Yes. Hungry and irritable hobbits? Yes. Little girls? No. Absolutely not.

     Still, the child lying on the floor couldn’t just be left alone. Gimli, behaving as though he were lifting glass, bent down and helped Theodwyn up.

     “Lady Theodwyn, what ails you?” he asked.

     Theodwyn peered up at the dwarf. Her eyes were full of tears, her hair was tangled, and her green dress was ripped. She looked truly pitiful.

     “I-I…Elfwine is evil!” she burst out. “So is Eldarion! I hate them!” She burst into tears again.

      Gimli hesitantly patted her on the head. “Here now, don’t cry,” he said awkwardly. “Everything will be all right.”

      “But they won’t let me ride in the race tomorrow!” wailed Theodwyn.

      Gimli frowned. If the lads were teasing Theodwyn, they would answer to him. Still, there was probably a reason for it, sibling rivalry aside. He had heard some of the Citadel guards talking about some devilry that the children had been brewing. Before he took sides, he had to know about it. Here was one of the children now. Gimli did some quick thinking, and put his hand on Theo’s shoulder.

   “Come now, lassie, let’s go find some food. Then you can tell me what this is all about,” Gimli said in his most comforting tone of voice.

     Theodwyn sniffled a little and took his hand. “All right. Thank you, Gimli,” she said.

     Gimli smiled at her and led her towards the kitchens. Whatever trouble was occurring, he was certain that the Elf was involved. Whatever was going on, it had to be interesting. The Citadel was fairly teeming with plans. All he had to do was learn what was going on, and join in.

*****

    From behind a long, intricately woven tapestry, where she had been listening, the Queen Arwen smiled to herself. Everything was going according to plan.

TBA

Disclaimer: I don’t own them, and I’ll put them back safely when I’m done.

Chapter Nine: Interludes Between Friends

     Legolas squirmed a little, trying to find a comfortable position on the hard floor. He was sleeping in the lads’ room-well, Eldarion’s room, but Elfwine and Rowan had moved in for the duration. They had been considerate enough to give him blankets, but had refused to untie his hands. This annoyed him to no end; he was in the habit of throwing one arm back as he slept, and was unable to do so with his hands tied.

     Legolas was not too upset and the Fellowship of the Green Dragon, but he was furious with Aragorn and the rest of the supposed adults. Of course they would play along with the children! He twitched a little and glowered to himself in the dark.

    As he lay there, contemplating ways of making his friend the King miserable when he was free, the door to Eldarion’s room opened. Legolas looked over at the tiny figure that stood there, illuminated in the candles that were still lit in the hallway. It was Theodwyn.

    “Back again, my lady?” Legolas said softly.

    Theodwyn nodded. “I want to talk to the lads.”

    Legolas sat up. “They are asleep, but they were very upset that you left earlier. They thought that you might have turned traitor.”

    “I know. I thought about it for a little bit, but Gimli talked me out of it,” Theo replied.

    Legolas groaned silently. So the Dwarf was here. Of course. Strange, though, that he hadn’t agreed that she turn traitor. He sighed, and watched as Theodwyn tiptoed across the room and climbed up onto Eldarion’s bed. Eldarion, Elfwine and Rowan were asleep in it, as it was large enough for much more than three. She woke them up by shaking their shoulders.

    “Wake up!” she hissed. “Wake up, Els and Ro, I need to say something.”

     Eldarion woke up first, and sat up. “Theo! You’re back!”

     “Oh, good, I was going to look for you,” Elfwine said. Rowan just hugged his sister.

     “Are you back, then? For good?” Eldarion asked.

     Theodwyn nodded. “Yes, I am. I’m sorry I hit you, Elfwine.”

      “I’m sorry, too, Theo,” Elfwine replied.

      “And me,” said Eldarion.

       “Will you stay in here with us, Theo?” whispered Rowan. “They were telling me ghost stories!”

       Theodwyn nodded and curled up among the lads, her arm around her brother. Within a few minutes, they were all sound asleep again. Legolas, on the floor, did not restrain himself from cursing in Quenya.

    A few moments later, footsteps were heard in the hallway. Legolas turned his head to see whom it was now, and was greatly surprised to see Prince Faramir standing in the doorway.

      “Theo’s in here, then?” he asked.

       “Yes, she and the lads are on even footing again,” Legolas said.

        Faramir looked at the elf in sympathy. He looked none too comfortable on the floor. “One moment, my good prince,” he said, and strode away. He was back within five minutes, hauling a mattress after him. Legolas sat up and moved away, and Faramir let it drop.

    “Thank you,” Legolas said with dignity.

     “Think nothing of it. It’s the least I can do when my children are helping to put you through the ringer,” Faramir said easily. “Although you could even the score by teaching me those Quenya curses.”

    Legolas grinned. There were times when he was reminded why he was such good friends with the Steward.

*****

    “No! No, no, and no. It’s not happening, I won’t do it; you can’t make me. I refuse.”

    Eowyn clasped her hands in front of her and reduced herself to pleading. “Please, Merry,” she begged. “It would only be for a little while! A few hours at the most. Please, do it for me.”

      Merry folded his arms and glared at her. “Absolutely not. No Master of Buckland has ever been dressed as a lass, and no Master ever will be.”

     Eowyn sighed and looked over at Arwen. The Queen was sitting in a chair before the fire, and frustrated look on her. It matched what Eowyn felt like. Only Estella and Diamond looked interested and amused by the confrontation.  

    “Really, Merry, I think you’d make a very pretty hobbit lass,” Diamond said.

    Merry glared at her. “Of course you side with them! Why, I’m outnumbered by high minded females!”

    “Yes, you are, so you may as well give in,” said Estella. “You should know, Meriadoc Brandybuck, that I have given Queen Arwen and Lady Eowyn permission to forcibly dress you in that frock, if it proves necessary.”

     Merry threw up his hands in despair and defeat. “Fine! But if any word of this reaches the Shire, I shall come to haunt you all!”

     Arwen straightened in her chair and smiled. “All right, you may do so if that happens. Now, which dress do you ladies think favors him better? The pink or the yellow?”

*****

   Aragorn looked over the field of the Pelennor with not a small amount of trepidation. It seemed that half of the City, and even those living on the farms around the Field, had turned out to see the race between the Elves and the Fellowship of the Green Dragon. Vendors were hawking foodstuffs and trinkets, and the Rohirrim were doing elaborate stunts on horseback amid the cheers of the spectators. If he had not been rather worried about the upcoming events, Aragorn would have heartily enjoyed himself. Still, he had the suspicion that Arwen was up to something; she had been far too serene of late to be innocent. After all, no child of Elrond was without a certain mischievous streak.

  “A lovely day for festivities, eh, Wingfoot? Your people are certainly enjoying themselves.”

    Aragorn shook his head ruefully as Eomer came to stand beside him under the pavilion. “Eomer, I know that it was not you that spread word of this throughout the city, and sent Riders to tell the surrounding settlements,” the High King said, a trace of sarcasm in his voice.

    Eomer grinned, totally at ease. “Of course not. It was my dear brother-in-law who told the citizens of Minas Tirith. I only suggested that he do so. The messengers to the villages, though, were my idea. I thought that perhaps your City could use the trade that they brought with them.”

     Aragorn turned his head and glared at Eomer. He was met by mirth filled grey eyes and a wicked grin. With a gust of laughter, he relented.

     “May the Rohirrim ever be full of merriment, Eomer,” he said. “How do you do it? Gondor is ever in turmoil when you and your Riders come.”

     Eomer laughed. “Hilarity is part of our culture as much as warfare. And now that there is no need for warfare, we are left with excess merriment. Your city does not stand a chance.”

     “I’m surprised that you haven’t joined the Fellowship of the children, Eomer,” Aragorn said dryly.

     “Don’t think that I haven’t thought about it,” Eomer replied.

    Aragorn glanced at his friend to see him smiling. For a moment, he considered replying, but the arrival of Prince Faramir stopped him.

     “Your highness, they are coming,” Faramir said.

     They all looked down at the field, to see the customary two lines of Elves and children approaching, leading captives and horses. Aragorn straightened and called out to them.

    “Welcome, friends, to the first obstacle in the contest to free your captives,” he said. “The Horse Race.”

TBC

Author’s Note: The next chapter should be soon in coming, but I figured that this one was too long to go any further. The update was delayed by two things: school, and then my being accepted to college. Updates should be coming faster now. Sorry for any inconvenience! J

  Disclaimer: I don’t own them, and I’ll put them back safely when I’m done!

Author’s Note: In my last update, I promised that the next chapter would follow quickly. No sooner had I posted it than I was hit with the worst case of writer’s block I’ve had in a long time. So, here is the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy it!

Chapter Ten: The Horse Race

   Before making any other statements, Aragorn ordered that the prisoners be brought up onto the stand, where they would wait until the race was over. Their captors accordingly led up Legolas and Faramir to the Royal Pavilion. As soon as Rowan and Haldir had let go of them, the two prisoners moved towards their people.

     “Hullo, Faramir,” said Pippin amiably, grinning at his son. “All right there?”

     “Yes, Father,” Faramir said, grinning in response. “The Elves are wonderful! Ella’s mamma sang me songs last night when I was afraid, and Haldir said that he’ll teach me to shoot a bow and arrow when our war is over!”

      Diamond and Pippin glanced at each other with small smiles on their faces. They had been rather worried about how Faramir would fare overnight with the Elves, as he sometimes had night terrors. However, it seemed that everything had been just fine.

    Legolas, on the other hand, stormed over to Thranduil, and, speaking Elvish, demanded in a soft voice, “When did you get here, and please tell me why you are encouraging them?”

    Thranduil gave his son a wicked look. “Why not? You are only young once.”

    Legolas just glowered.

        Aragorn glanced around at the prisoners, and was treated to a sunny wave from Faramir, and a glare that would have killed a lesser man from Legolas. He sighed and addressed the contestants.

    “Are your riders ready?”

    Elfwine and a tall, stately Elf from Rivendell, Zinfandel, bowed to him. Their horses stood behind them: a fiery grey Elvish mount from Zinfandel, and a huge white horse with no saddle or bridle for Elfwine. Aragorn looked over at Eomer in askance.

     “What is your son doing on that horse?” he asked.

     Eomer grinned at him. “ ‘That horse’,” he said, “Is one of the Maeras, the only foal of the great Shadowfax. Only the kings of the Rohirrim are able to ride them, and so it is fitting that Elfwine should do so.”

    Aragorn sighed. He knew the folly of telling a Rider of the Mark that a Maeras would surely beat an elvish mount, and so was not fair in a race. However, he was spared the trouble by Eowyn, who stood up, bowed, and said, “If it is not to bold of me, my lord, I have had horses prepared, that are equal mounts. Shall I call them hither?”

    “Yes, lady, do,” Aragorn said, and Eowyn waved her hand at two grooms, who stood nearby, holding horses leads.

     Both companies of contenders looked extremely put out as they accepted their new horses. However, thy submitted to mounting them, then turned to Aragorn to await his mark.

   “You will race to the walls of the Rammas Echor, where I have posted guards to tell me who wins. If the race ends in a tie, we will have a re-match. Is this understood?”

      “Yes, your highness,” the Elf and child said in unison.

      Aragorn nodded. “Mount your horses.”

      The riders mounted, waited a tense moment, and then, when Queen Arwen stood and dropped her handkerchief, were off in a burst of dizzying speed. The spectators screamed and cheered as Elfwine and Zinfandel galloped madly off towards the Rammas, neck and neck, it seemed. The Rohirrim were especially loud as they urged their prince on. Several minutes went by before the riders reached the walls, and they were so far away that the only people to see which rider was the winner, were Queen Arwen and Legolas-they were seated in the stands, and could see over the gently rolling hills that the riders had passes over.

    “Elfwine won,” Arwen murmured to Aragorn.

    The King nodded. Arwen’s statement was soon confirmed by a guard riding back to grandly announce that “Prince Elfwine of Rohan” had won the race “by a nose.” Cheers from the children and those on their side, and groans from the Elves and their followers, met this announcement. Ella the elf child cheered with the Fellowship of the Green Dragon, and when Elfwine came riding triumphantly up, she dashed forward and kissed his cheek, thus rendering the child speechless for the remainder of the event.

     “You had to make it two out of three,” Legolas grumbled at Aragorn when the children came for him.

      Gimli, seated nearby, chuckled. “Never thought I’d see the day that the Elf was prisoner to children. You’ll be please to know, Master Elf, that the next challenge is mine to call.”

     “And in my defense,” Aragorn added quickly, “It was the Lord Steward’s idea to make it two out of three.”

     Legolas got a very peculiar look on his face, and appeared to be muttering soundlessly as Theodwyn and Rowan led him off.

     “I don’t think that he’s very happy with you, King Strider,” Faramir Took said with a grin.

    Aragorn shook his head; Faramir looked quite comfortable in the arms of the children of Elrond’s former nurse.

    “What have you in mind for the next challenge, Gimli?” Eowyn queried as the stands emptied.

    Gimli smiled at her. “It’s an interesting little challenge, milady,” he said. “I’m none too certain that the Elves will like it, but there we are.”

    The adults grinned at each other. As odd as this game was, it had yet to be boring.

    “Tell me,” added Gimli, “Are the storage tunnels under the City safe?”

TBC

Disclaimer: I don’t own them, and I’ll put them back safely when I’m done.

Author’s Note: Just a quick chapter, to peek in on the doings of Queen Arwen and her nefarious plot. This chapter was written to a Gaelic Storm CD of Irish drinking songs. I remain blameless in the matter.

Chapter Eleven: In Which Merry Learns That He Is In Over His Head:

    “Merry, if you don’t stop fidgeting, I will stick you with this pin.”

    Merry glowered at his wife, and stilled. Estella calmly turned another section of pink hem up and pinned it.

     “Merry, I’ll have you know that this was my favorite dress as a little girl,” Eowyn said, grinning at her squire.

     Merry looked at her in askance. “This dress?” he said, plucking the skirt. “This fine dress of pink satin that I have been coerced into wearing?”

    Eowyn arched one eyebrow into a near perfect V. “And just what is wrong with it, Master Holdwine?”

   “Nothing! It’s just, well…pink. I can’t imagine you in pink, Eowyn,” Merry replied.

   The women exchanged knowing glances. It was quite true; Eowyn rarely wore what she dubbed elvish colors and fabrics. Her gowns were all shades of blue, green, white, and the occasional red. Still, she had pulled the little gown out of a cedar chest in her storage room in Ithilien, and they were currently pinning it to fit Merry. The Master of Buckland, it is needless to say, was not at all pleased.

    “There,” Estella said at last, “I’m finished. You can take it off, dear, and I’ll sew it up.”

    “I’ll go into the other room, thanks,” Merry replied, stepping off the stool that he had been balancing upon.

    Arwen gave him a cheeky smile, an odd look on an Elf, even one turned mortal. “My dear Meriadoc, we have all seen male undergarments. You need not be embarrassed.”

    “Merry’s undergarments are really quite fetching,” Estella said. “As are Pippin’s, aren’t they, Diamond? We make them ourselves.”

     Diamond nodded with a grin, but Merry blushed scarlet and endeavored to sweep out of the room gracefully, as he had seen the Queen and Eowyn do. The effect was somewhat spoiled by his tripping upon the hem of the dress and stumbling the entire way to the door. Followed by the sounds of female laughter, Merry yanked the door open and stormed into the hallway, shutting the door behind him. Then he stopped dead and groaned.

     “You look good in pink, my friend,” Aragorn remarked, grinning at the hobbit.

     “Why is it,” growled Merry, “That women have the power to be spectacularly evil when they are together, and yet not be punished for it?”

      Aragorn frowned contemplatively. “I suppose it is because they are all sworn sisters.”

      “Stella and Diamond, certainly, but Arwen and Eowyn?” Merry said. “Are they sworn sisters?”

      “Oh, yes,” Aragorn answered. “You weren’t here for that event; it was about a year after you had returned to the Shire. Each of them was testing the other. They were making all sorts of cordial challenges to each other, every day for weeks. One evening, Faramir and I lost them, and were sent word to come quickly to a small pub that was well known for its ale, in the fourth circle.

      “When we arrived, we found Arwen and Eowyn sitting respectively, next to the table and under it.”

      “No!” Merry gasped, eyes dancing.

     “Oh, yes. They had succeeded in drinking each other under the table. They both spent the next day in complete isolation, nursing the mother of all hangovers, and have been sworn sisters ever since,” Aragorn finished. “I don’t know how,” he added as an afterthought, “But somehow that act was what sealed Minas Tirith’s love of and loyalty to both ladies.

     Merry stared at the King, a mixture of amusement and chagrin on his face. “You’re saying that I don’t stand a chance, aren’t you?”

     Aragorn smiled at the hobbit. “Yes, I am. Now, you might want to change from that dress before anyone sees you. It wouldn’t do to spoil their fun, would it?”

     “No, it wouldn’t,” Merry said with a shudder, and hurried away.

     Aragorn watched him go and decided that he really did not want to know what mischief the ladies were planning. Whatever it was, it would certainly be the crown all of the mad contest between the Elves and children. It was best not to meddle with Arwen’s affairs, he knew. Best to let them plot and plan, and be surprised when the time came.

TBC

Disclaimer: They don’t belong to me, and I’ll put them back safely when I’m done!

Author’s Note: I would like to thank all of my reviewers. I don’t have the time to reply to each one of you personally, but I am always eager to hear what you think of my story. Thank you so much for reading!

    Jay of Lasgalen has graciously allowed me to use the term “Lord El”. Thanks, Jay!

Chapter Twelve: Elvish Interludes:

     Lady Elanorallie, daughter of Elrohir, Lord of Imladris, was a patient child. She was not prone to stating her mind, or to loudly pursue an interest, except in matters of dire consequence. This, alas, was one of those matters, and Ella, as she was known, was standing calmly in front of Eldarion and Elfwine, ready to take her case to the kings and fathers, if necessary.

    “He needs a bath, Eldarion. Don’t you take baths every other day?” she demanded.

    “Well, yes,” said Eldarion. “But giving him a bath would mean that he could escape easily.”

     Ella sighed. “What if we let King Thranduil watch over him? That way, he wouldn’t escape, and yet he would still be clean. Please, Eldarion, this is somewhat degrading.”

    Degrading? Legolas thought weakly. That was one word for it. He had not gone so long without a decent bath since the Quest, and it was beginning to irritate him. All he wanted was to be free of these blasted children, for Arda’s sake!

      Eldarion looked over at Legolas, who seemed distinctly ruffled. It was true; the Elf did need a bath. To think of it, sending him to Thranduil was a good idea. Eldarion had met with the King of Mirkwood, and knew that he was a fair and honest Elf, if he was just a little imposing.

    “Very well,” he sighed. “Come on, Legolas, let’s find your father.”

     Legolas did not deign to reply.

It was a merry company that wound its way to Thranduil’s private rooms. The king was alone in his chamber when a knock came at his door, and stood to open it. He bit back a smile when he saw his son standing trussed up amongst a group of small children.

   “Hello, my lords and ladies, what may I do for you?” Thranduil asked.

   Ella curtsied to the king. “Prince Legolas needs a bath, sir. We decided to bring him to you because he would not like us to wash him, and we thought that you would prevent him from escaping. Will you please bathe him for us?” she asked.

    Thranduil’s eyebrows rose, but he smiled at the little elfling. “Yes, of course. Come back in three hours, and I promise to have him shining with cleanliness.”

     Ignoring the smoldering glower of his son, Thranduil took the lead rope from little Rowan and led Legolas into his room. With a last glance back at the two elf lords, the children walked away.

     “Well, you seem to be getting on quite well with them,” Thranduil remarked.

     Legolas gave him a look that would have melted ice, so full of fire it was. “Would you kindly untie my hands, adar?”

   Thranduil laughed and untied the well-done knots. Once he was released, Legolas stretched to his full height, rubbing his chafed wrists with relish.

     “Oh, I thought I’d never be free of them!” he cried. “Aragorn, Eomer and Faramir have trained their children well.”

     “Yes, as has Elrohir,” remarked Thranduil dryly. “Who would believe that such an escapade would ensue in Minas Tirith? I doubt that such a competition  has ever occurred between Elves and Men. If there has been one, it is beyond my memory. Now, my son, I believe that you would like to use the bath house?”

*****

    “We lost to a group of mortal children!” wailed Elladan. “I’m not blaming you, Zinfandel, but how in Arda’s name did that happen?”

    Zinfandel shrugged and took a long pull at his wine. “They were Rohirric horses, my lord. The children selected a Rohirrim to ride. We were in trouble the minute they did that. You know that all the Rohirrim are practically raised in the saddle!”

   Elladan nodded, still looking dejected, and Faramir patted his knee. “Don’t worry, Lord El. I’m sure that you’ll win the next time around. After all, Gimli’s planning it. I heard the King say so.”

    Elladan merely shook his head, wondering what devilry the dwarf would cook up. It was true that Legolas and Gimli were good friends, and that might encourage the dwarf to aid the Elves, but he was also a good friend with the children. This friendship might encourage him to aid them. Perhaps, though, he would not take sides. That was a heartening, but highly unlikely, thought.

    The Elves lapsed into silence-or what passed for silence. Some of them were singing songs, and Lindir was telling Faramir stories about dragons and the fall of Gondolin. The little hobbit was listening with wide eyes, and Elladan absently hoped that Lindir wasn’t scaring him too badly.

    A few peaceful moments passed, then the door to the parlor was flung open Elrohir stormed in, looking like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

    “They are wagering on us!” he wailed. “Wagering! As though we are horses in a race!”

    Elladan and Zinfandel exchanged an amused look as Elrohir helped himself to a glass of wine and flopped into a nearby chair.

    “Whatever do you mean, El?” asked Elladan. “Who are wagering on us?”

    “Only the fine people of Gondor,” grumbled Elrohir. “They are openly wagering on us and the children in the market place and the pubs. It is degrading, I tell you!”

     Elladan smiled at his twin. Elrohir had gone out several hours ago, ostensibly to “have a look around”. It seemed that his search had not gone too well. “What did they do when they saw you?” he asked.

     Elrohir shrugged. “Nothing. They wished me luck and went on with their business.”

     Elladan nodded. “That’s good, I suppose. All we can do now is wait to see what Gimli devises as his plan.”

     Elrohir nodded. He could only hope that it would be in their favor. There was no possible way he could bear to lose to children.

*****

     After Legolas bathed, he dressed in fresh, clean clothes that his father had sent a servant for, and fell asleep on his father’s bed. He was so grateful for a comfortable sleeping place that he forgot to be angry with his father for not helping to get him away from the miscreant children for good.

     Thranduil spent some time reading in the window seat. At teatime, he sent for a light meal and woke his son up. Legolas sat up and rubbed his eyes.

     “Where has the afternoon gone?” he asked, yawning. “You had to say three hours only.”

    Thranduil smiled. “At least I got you away for that amount of time. Here, eat.”

    Legolas grinned a little weakly and gratefully took the plate of food from Thranduil. They ate in silence for a while, before a knock sounded at the door. It was Theodwyn and Rowan, sent to fetch Legolas.

     “We’re here for Legolas, please,” announced Theodwyn, curtsying to Thranduil.

     Thranduil bowed back at her. “Yes, of course, my lady. Allow me to make a suggestion, though. Elves do not thrive very long when they are tied up. If you promise to only tie Legolas around one wrist, I will make him swear not to run away from any of you.”

    Theodwyn and Rowan glanced at each other, and Theodwyn nodded. “All right.”

    “Legolas, do you swear not to run away from these children?” Thranduil asked.

     Legolas sighed. “Yes, Adar.”

     Thranduil nodded, and allowed Theodwyn and Rowan to tie Legolas and lead him away. He watched them as they walked away, smiling to himself.

     “Children,” he murmured. “What will they be up to next?”

     From around the corner, where she was hiding and listening, Arwen Undomiel smiled to herself.

TBC

Disclaimer: I don’t own them, and I’ll put them back safely when I’m done!

Author’s Note: I am having too much fun with this! I’m tempted to write a story about Arwen and Eowyn next; they’re turning out to be as bad as the children, if not worse. Thank you all for your feedback, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Chapter Thirteen: Tunnels and Master Plans

     “ Hello!”

     The shout echoed through the long tunnels for several moments, telling Gimli that they were deep and in good repair. He turned to the Steward of Gondor and smiled.

    “These tunnels are safe for a large group of people, then? What of spectators? The city seems to want to know how this contest will turn out,” he said.

     Faramir nodded. “I know, they are wagering on the Elves and the children. If Aragorn had a mind to, he could make a very handsome profit, selling seats to watch this round. However, I don’t think that it would be very wise to have spectators down here.”

     Gimli nodded and looked back around the storage tunnels. They were situated below the Citadel and the Palace, and were filled to overflowing with provisions. It was quite cool, if not cold, down here, and the Dwarf could see his breath misting in the still air. Stacks of crates and barrels leaned upon the walls, and braids of vegetables hung from the ceiling.  There wasn’t much in the way of obstruction; the peoples of Gondor liked to have everything in order. If he had been able, he would have taken them all back to the Glittering Caves of Aglarond for his part of the challenge. Alas, that was not an option, and so he would make due with the storage tunnels of Minas Tirith.

     “Faramir, lad, will you tell Aragorn that we shall hold the next contest the day after tomorrow? We dwarves will have everything in order by then.”

     “Certainly,” replied Faramir with a smile. “And I will tell the others.”

*****

  “Why do we have to go underground?” wailed Ella. “What madness has fallen upon him?”

    Eldarion shrugged. “He’s a dwarf, Ella. He lives underground.”

    “But these are not the Glittering Caves,” groused the Elfling. “At least the Glittering Caves are beautiful.”

    Theodwyn grinned at her elvish friend, and handed Ella one of her warm woolen coats. “If Gimli says that we must go underground to get Faramir back, than we must. It’s cold in the tunnels, though, Father said. We must all dress warmly.”

    “Are there ghosts in the tunnels, Theo?” whispered Rowan. “I’m afraid of ghosts.”

    “There are no ghosts, Rowan, and if there are, I will take Mamma’s sword and protect you,” Theodwyn replied.

    Rowan nodded, somewhat reassured, but Elfwine grinned wickedly at him. “Maybe there will be a giant spider, Ro, like the one that attacked the Ringbearer, and which Mr. Gamgee killed. Maybe one of that spider’s children lives in the storage tunnels!”

    Rowan turned white, Theodwyn’s eyes narrowed, and Legolas, sitting on the sofa, thought that was time to intervene.

    “Elfwine, stop teasing your cousin. Rowan, there are no spiders in the tunnels. They are used for storing the food you eat each night. Do you think that King Elessar would let something evil live in Minas Tirith?” he asked.

     Rowan shook his head and went to sit with the elf. The others turned back to their meeting. They were sitting in a semi-circle around Eldarion, looking to him for all the answers.

     “I’ve been down in the tunnels,” Eldarion told them. “They are very twisty, but there are directions carved on the walls, and so we won’t get lost. Besides, Father will probably put guards all over the tunnels, to make sure that nobody cheats, so we don’t need to worry.”

    Eldarion paused and glanced around the group. Theodwyn and Elfwine looked terribly excited, Ella looked apprehensive, and Rowan was sitting on Legolas’ lap, terror written all over his features. The young prince sighed. It would be mean to make two frightened children, and those his very good friends, go into a place that frightened them. An idea dawned in Eldarion’s mind, and he smiled brightly at them.

    “Ella! Rowan! We need someone to stay behind and take care of Legolas. Will you two do that?”

    Looks of intense relief spread across their two faces. “Certainly!” cried Ella, capping her hands. “Hannon le, Eldarion!”

     Legolas looked down at the frightened looking lad sitting on his lap. “Is that alright with you, Rowan? You don’t want to have an adventure?”

    Rowan shook his head. “I’m too little to have adventures, Legolas.”

    Legolas grinned to himself. Rowan was the same size that Pippin had been when they had set out on the Quest. Legolas did not doubt that coming from the parentage he had, Rowan would find his courage, even if it took him a long time.

      The children continued to plan for the event the next day, until there was a knock on the door, and Queen Arwen entered the nursery. “How are things going with you, children?” she asked.

     Eldarion sprang at his nanneth and caught her hand. “We are doing very well, Nana! Ella and Rowan are going to watch Legolas while Theo, Elfwine and I go down into the tunnels!”

    Arwen smiled at them all. “That is a very wise idea, Elfwine. But now, I fear that I must end the fun for the evening. It is time for bed, all of you.”

     A chorus of groans met this announcement, but the children obediently rose from their seats and left the room. Legolas followed, Theodwyn holding his rope, and bowed slightly to Arwen as he passed.

    “My lady,” he said in Elvish.

    “My lord,” she replied with a grin. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

    Legolas nodded, refusing to allow Arwen to see just how annoyed he was with her. “Of course. It is the most amusing thing in the world to be led around like a pet by a group of children. You should try it sometime.”

    Arwen swatted his arm and laughed. “Sleep well, mellon nin,” she said. “It will be a big day tomorrow.”

*****

   “I suppose that you know that Legolas will be wreaking his revenge on us for weeks to come,” Prince Faramir stated.

    Aragorn grinned and nodded. “Oh, I know,” he said. “I suppose that we deserve it.”

    “Oh, we do,” Faramir agreed. “Most assuredly, we do.”

  Aragorn looked out over the tunnels, which were now filled with light and bustling with people. A group of chairs sat on a raised dais near the entrance of the tunnels, and six long benches lined the walls. These benches were for the citizens of Minas Tirith to sit, if they cared to buy the tickets to the event that Arwen and Eowyn were shamelessly selling under assumed names. The next day promised to be an interesting one, to say the least.

     “Well, Aragorn, everything is ready!”

     Gimli’s booming voice echoed around them, and the King and the Steward smiled down at the dwarf. Gimli was striding up the tunnel towards them purposefully.

     “They will have a bit more trouble with this one than they did with that horse race,” he said. “It isn’t too difficult for them, though.”

     Aragorn nodded. “That is good, my dear dwarf. What can we say but ‘Bring on tomorrow’!”

TBC

Disclaimer: I don’t own them, and I’ll put them back safely when I’m done.

Chapter Fourteen: The Tunnels

     “Your task, my lord and ladies, is to get to the very end of the tunnels and bring back Queen Arwen’s bracelet. It will not be an easy task, and the King and Queen wish me to remind you to please be careful. Good luck!”

     The herald bowed and left the stand, and the group of contestants heaved hidden sighs of relief. The last twenty minutes had consisted of the reading of names, teams, and rules. The selected contestants were Elrohir, Lindir, and Haldir for the elves, and Eldarion, Elfwine, and Theodwyn for the children. All were wearing long cloaks and jackets, and each team had one torch. The entrance to the tunnel was well filled with people, and the servants were handing out small pastries. The royals were all seated nearby, with Estella and Diamond, and the captives. Merry and Pippin were part of a mixed company of guards. Both were grinning broadly.

     Gimli stood up and bowed to them, valiantly hiding a smile. “On my mark,” he said. “Go!”

     Amidst the shouts and cheers of onlookers, the two teams hurriedly set off down the hallway.

     “Good luck, Eldarion!” Elanorallie shouted, jumping up and down on her chair. “Be careful!”

     “You be careful, too, Ella,” admonished Legolas, pulling the elfling down and sitting her on his lap. “Your father will murder me if I allow you to injure yourself.”

    Behind them, Thranduil bit back a smile. What Legolas had said was quite true.

*****

     “How far away are we?” Elfwine asked impatiently.

     Eldarion consulted the small map of the tunnels that they had been given. They seemed to have taken a wrong turning half a mile back, going left instead of right. They ad been ahead of the Elves when they had lost their way; now, they were undoubtedly ahead of them.

    “We’re far away,” Eldarion replied. “But we can go back. Come on.”

    Theodwyn frowned as she followed her friends back the way they had come. Eldarion and Elfwine had insisted that they knew what they were doing, thus getting themselves into this mess. She had resolved not to say anything more, and if they lost, they lost. There was always one more contest.

*****

    “I doubt that Aragorn will be pleased by your filching bits of his supplies, Lord Elrohir,” Haldir remarked dryly, as he watched Elrohir take a ripe plum from a barrel.

    “Nonsense, Haldir, my friend,” Elrohir replied. “You don’t know how many times that blue blooded Dunedain pilfered from the storerooms of Imladris. I am merely exercising my right as his foster brother and brother in law.”

    Haldir and Lindir traded a look; each Elf rolled his eyes and returned to the task at hand.

    “We aren’t very far from the end of the tunnels,” Lindir said. “We can get there soon enough. Where are the children?”

     Elrohir looked back over his shoulder. “I believe that they took a wrong turning a ways back. They were ahead of us before.”

     The three elves glanced at each other uncertainly. There were princes and a princess in the children’s team, and children-especially mortal children-were so easily injured. Elrohir, the leader, hesitated.

    “If any of you receive a bad feeling concerning those children,” he said at last, “Tell me immediately, and we will go at once to find them.”

     Haldir and Lindir nodded, and they continued on.

*****

     “I don’t think that this is the way, Eldarion,” Elfwine said in a soft voice, gazing in awe around them. “I don’t think that these are the tunnels anymore. At least, not the right ones.”

     “I can hear water,” said Theodwyn, holding the torch up higher. “And the walls aren’t stone anymore. I think we went under the mountains.”

      Eldarion nodded, peering ahead with the rest of them. One wrong turn had led to another, and they were hopelessly off course. In taking what Eldarion ad assumed was a short cut, they had trekked far under the mountains, past the end of the storage tunnels and on into a dirt passage. It was just the kind of passage that the Red Book had described Shelob living in, only not so dark.  The prince regent of Gondor was beginning to feel a little sick.

    “M-maybe we should go back,” he said.

    Elfwine nodded. “I think you’re right. Ouch, Theo! That hurts!”

    “Sorry,” whispered Theodwyn, loosening her grip on his arm, but not letting go. “I want my mamma.”

     “So do I,” said Eldarion fervently. “I think that we should let Uncle Elrohir win this one, and go back. Now.”

    Nodding their agreement, the cousins turned and started after the prince back the way they had come. They had scarcely gone five yards when the ground gave way under Theodwyn’s feet, and she fell, shrieking, into a deep hole. The lads, who had linked their arms through hers, fell with her. Their torch went out as they hit the bottom, and darkness descended.

*****

    Far away, Elrohir, Haldir and Lindir had reached the end of the tunnels, and had secured Arwen’s bracelet. As Elrohir put it safely in his pocket, a strange feeling of foreboding filled him. He tensed, and saw that Haldir and Lindir had tensed as well. Then, from far away, quiet screams echoed down the tunnels.

   “The children!” Elrohir cried, and they sprung away in the directions the screams had come from.

*****

    At the entrance to the tunnels, where the onlookers were quietly conversing, the Elves all suddenly fell silent. A strained moment passed as the Elves all listened to a sound too faint to be heard by mortal ears, then several cried out in alarm.

     “Aragorn, the children!” cried Arwen, leaping up. “They are in peril! Go!”

     Aragorn leapt up and rushed away down the tunnels, closely followed by Eomer, Faramir, Merry, Pippin, Thranduil, and Gimli. Several male elves grabbed torches and rushed after them, as well as some of the Citadel guards. Legolas hesitated for a moment, then pulled the rope from his wrist and handed it to Elanorallie and Rowan.

     “I will come back, but now our friends need me,” he said to them, and rushed away.

*****

    The elvish team met the others at the entrance to the dirt tunnel. They all paused for a moment, then pressed forward.

     “The screams came from down here,” Thranduil said grimly. “I thought that they were warned away from here?”

     “They were,” replied Aragorn. “It was written on the map. Have you ever been down here, Faramir?”

      The Steward shook his head. “Never. We were always warned away from here as children. It was too dangerous.”

      “Aye, these tunnels lead deep into the mountains, Aragorn,” said Gimli. “They are not lined with stone, but dirt, as you see. What madness led them in here?”

    “They likely thought that it was a short cut,” Legolas said as he caught up. “There. Do you see the hole in the ground? Be careful.”

     Raising his hand to stop the company, Aragorn took a few steps forward. Merry and Pippin followed, as did Thranduil, holding the torch that he had taken from Lindir.

     “Are they there?” Faramir asked, waiting tensely.

     Pippin dropped to his knees and crawled to the edge of the hole, ignoring Merry’s admonishment to be care. Peering in, he could dimly see, far below, a small pile of…something. He couldn’t tell quite what.

    “I think that they are down there. Can someone bring a torch closer?”

    Aragorn took the torch from Thranduil and advanced. The dirt floor was packed solidly where he stepped, and he came to Pippin without mishap.

      “Eldarion? Elfwine, Theodwyn, are you down there?”

      A small whimper was his reply, and a sigh of relief came from those gathered nearby. Aragorn knelt down close to the edge of the hole and peered down. In the light that his torch cast, he could see Elfwine sitting up, looking at his friends, and then up at him.

    “Elfwine, are they all right?” Aragorn asked tensely.

    “I don’t know, sir,” replied Elfwine. “I can’t wake them up.”

    Pippin grimaced and the king and his knight traded a fearful look.

    “Here, my lord,” a voice said suddenly. “Here is a rope. Do you want me to climb down?”

     It was, to the surprise of absolutely no one, Eowyn. She had had the foresight to grab a long length of thick rope before following the men. Aragorn doubted that Arwen was far behind.

     “Eowyn,” objected Faramir, but Eowyn cut him off.

      “Faramir, I am a woman and therefore lighter than all of you but the hobbits. I can lift the children while they cannot. Now, hold onto that rope while I go down.”

    Everyone knew better than to cross the Lady of the Shield Arm. Aragorn, Eomer, Faramir, Legolas, Gimli, and Thranduil held the rope as Eowyn tied it around her waste and climbed down into the hole. The hobbits held torches to give her extra light as she went.

     “Aunt Eowyn?” whispered Elfwine as she alighted next to him. “I’m scared.”

     “I know, El,” Eowyn said soothingly, bending over the unconscious children. They were breathing, fortunately, and she breathed a deep sigh of relief. “They’re alive!” she called up. “Elfwine, can you hold Theo while I carry Eldarion up?”

    Elfwine nodded, and Eowyn placed her daughter in his arms, than hoisted Gondor’s prince regent onto her hip.

    “Pull me up!” she called, and was obligingly pulled to the surface. In two minutes, she was back again. Instructing Elfwine to hold her tightly around the waist, Eowyn lifted Theodwyn and was pulled up again. Elfwine clung to his aunt, trembling, but they were soon enough at the top of the hole. Many pairs of hands reached out to grab them, and they were pulled to safety. Elfwine was lifted by his father as Faramir took Theo from Eowyn.

    “Come, bring the children. We must take them to the Houses of Healing,” Aragorn said grimly.

TBC

Disclaimer: I own nothing, and I’ll put them back safely when I’m done!

Author’s Note: Sorry I took so long to update, real life got in the way. The next chapter will tell us what Arwen’s little plan is. Enjoy, and please review!

Chapter Fifteen: An Even Score

     Eldarion was first aware that his head rather hurt. He lay still, wondering what in Middle Earth had happened in the tunnels, and gradually became aware that he was not alone in the room. He opened his eyes.

     It seemed that all of the Fellowship of the Green Dragon was in the room, which Eldarion recognized as one in the Houses of Healing. From where he was lying, he could see Elfwine playing chess with Elanorallie; one of his wrists was bound in a tight bandage. Rowan was sitting on a bed net to his, talking with Theodwyn, who looked extremely disgruntled to have her arm in a sling. They were all that Eldarion could see. With a little sigh-it was so comfortable just laying there-the young prince sat up.

      When they saw him move, all activity in the room ceased for a moment, and then everyone was crowding around him. Besides the friends whom he had already seen, there were Legolas, Gimli, and, surprisingly, Faramir Took. The little hobbit was the first one to reach his bed, and leaned against it with a huge smile on his face.

    “Hullo, Eldarion!” Faramir cried. “Are you feeling all right? I’m so glad that you woke up before I had to leave; Lord El said that I could stay in here for an hour, and the hour is almost up! Are you feeling all right?” he asked again.

     Eldarion hesitated, thinking about it. His head ached slightly, and he felt rather bruised, much like he had when he’d fallen out of Legolas’ flet in Ithilien. Still, he didn’t feel horribly injured, and a quick look at his arms and legs showed that he didn’t have any broken bones.

     “I think that I’m all right, Faramir,” he replied. “What happened?”

     Legolas sat down on the edge of Eldarion’s bed. “You took a wrong turning out of the proper storage tunnels. The ground gave way beneath you, and the Lady Eowyn had to be lowered down to pull you out of a deep pit. You hit your head, and Elfwine sprained his wrist. Theodwyn dislocated her shoulder, but the King believes that you all will live,” he said.

    Eldarion nodded seriously at the Elf, and looked around at his friends. “I guess that we shouldn’t have gone down there. I’m sorry.”

     “I’m glad that you did,” said Gimli. “We are having those passages fixed now, which will provide work for the dwarves for many a day.”   

     “That’s all right, Eldarion, it was an adventure,” Elfwine agreed cheerfully. “Poor Theo was the worst hurt.”

      Theodwyn indicated her right arm with a disgruntled look on her face, but smiled sweetly when Eldarion asked if it hurt. “Not right now. King Elessar gave me medicine for it. You have to treat me very nicely, though.”

      Eldarion made a face at her, knowing that when she smiled like that, his desserts were in mortal danger. He changed the subject with no subtlety whatsoever. “Who won the contest? The Elves?”

       “Yes, Lord El won,” Faramir said cheerfully. Then, as if remembering that he shouldn’t be supporting the opposing team, added in a woe-filled voice, “I mean, Lord El did.”

     “They came and helped you, though,” Elanorallie said quickly. “Ada said that we are even now, and that is always a good thing to be, when it comes to contest such as this.”

      Eldarion nodded glumly, and they lapsed into silence. The children all came from very competitive parentage, and none of them liked to lose, even if it was to a family friend and his people. At last, Legolas stood up and touched Faramir’s arm.

     “Come, Faramir,” he said. “The hour is up, and I can hear Pippin approaching in the hallway.”

      Faramir jumped up, rather enthusiastically, and hugged them all. “Good bye!” he said. “It was fun playing with you all! I hope that you feel better soon. You, too, Eldarion! Bye!”

     “Bye, Faramir,” the children chorused, waving and smiling at their friend. “See you soon!”

     Faramir waved cheerily and left the room with his father. They could hear him chattering away to Pippin about how well they all were, before Legolas shut the door.

     “I want Faramir to come back for good,” Rowan said sadly. “Can we hurry up and win this game, so that he can come back? Please?”

     “We will, Rowan,” Legolas replied. “Queen Arwen has declared a meeting with both teams in the throne room tomorrow, to tell us what we will be doing. From the look on her face when she told me, it will be a very interesting challenge, to say the least.”

     The children shared a worried glance, and Eldarion bit his lip. When his nana came up with something that Legolas thought was interesting, there was always cause to worry.

*****

     “I’m not even going to ask.”

     Merry closed his eyes in chagrin and turned around slowly. The ladies in the room had fallen silent, and the looks on their faces were ones of amusement, sheepishness, and, in Estella’s case, glee.

    “Pip, I can explain,” Merry began, than stopped. “No, I can’t, actually,” he said after a moment. “I have absolutely no idea why they’re forcing me to do this, it defies all rhyme and reason. I do believe that they are all quite mad.”

    Pippin didn’t say anything for want of laughing. He had come searching for Diamond, and found her in Queen Arwen’s private sitting room with Estella, Arwen, Eowyn…and Merry, whose back was turned, and who was wearing a pink satin dress.

    “I’m going to assume that this is for the Queen’s challenge,” he said. “Right. I’m going to leave now, and we shall pretend that this moment never happened. Diamond, I am going to be in our room.”

    So saying, Pippin turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. Arwen let her breath out in a rush and smiled at the others.

    “He took that rather well, actually,” she said.

    Out in the hallway, Pippin found Aragorn standing not five feet from the door. “Is he in that dress?” the High King asked.

     “Yes, he is,” Pippin replied, grinning broadly. “I wonder what they used to blackmail him into doing it.”

     “I can’t imagine,” Aragorn said. “Come, shall we leave them to their dastardly plotting?”

     “Of course,” agreed Pippin.

     They set of down the hallway, and as soon as they were far enough away, collapsed into laughter. If nothing else, this contest certainly was never dull.

TBC

Disclaimer: I don’t own them, and I’ll put them back safely when I’m done.

Author’s Note: I probably ought to be shot for this chapter. In fact, if Tolkien were alive, that’s probably what he would do, but this just felt “Arwenish” to me. I would like to thank a wonderful little girl commonly known as Elf Child for the idea that is to follow. I was hopelessly stuck on Arwen’s challenge, and she casually said to me, “Well, you could always use ‘Alice in Wonderland’.” So, I must credit the idea to her. Thank you, Elf Child!

Chapter Sixteen: Queen Arwen’s Challenge

   The meeting with Queen Arwen was scheduled for mid-morning. Accordingly, a small delegation of Elves, led by the Sons of Elrond, and the by now infamous Fellowship of the Green Dragon met in front of the doors to the Great Hall. The teams greeted each other politely, and Legolas and Elrond’s sons shared a nervous glance. They had all known Arwen for far too long to be entirely at ease with her being in charge of the next challenge. While Aragorn and Gimli’s challenges had been straight to the point, Arwen was entirely too clever for her own good.

   They only had to wait a few moments before the doors to the great hall were opened, and Prince Faramir ushered them all in. He had a very peculiar expression on his face, Eldarion thought, like he was trying to be stern when he really wanted to laugh very hard. The teams, staying in their customary lines, walked towards the throne and stopped before the Queen and King.

    “You are here today to find out what my challenge is,” Arwen began, without preamble. “First, let it be known that you are going to be competing tomorrow, starting at eight o’clock in the morning. Now, I have a question. Do any of you know the tale of Oranra and the Land of Unusual Creatures?”

     Several of the Elves groaned and raised their hands, as did Eldarion, Theodwyn and Rowan. The rest of the group looked confused, as did Prince Faramir and Eomer. Eowyn, Diamond, Pippin, Estella and Thranduil looked amused, and chagrin was written all over the face of the King Elessar. Arwen smiled at them all, looking wickedly satisfied with herself.

    “Tomorrow, you will find yourselves within the story. You must crawl through the goblin tunnel, and then find a pipe in the hobbit hole. After that, you will speak with one of the cursed Queen Beruthiel’s cats, which will ask you several riddles before he lets you pass. Once you are past him, you will find yourselves at a mad dwarvish tea party, where you will be asked to sing a song until they hear one that pleases them all. That alone will be a difficult feat. After this, you will find yourselves in the garden of Beruthiel herself. Do not pick her flowers, for if you do, she will have you beheaded. Your task here is to save the hapless maiden”-here the ladies snickered softly, and Aragorn rolled his eyes-“from certain death, as she was caught picking the roses. Once you have her, you must escape the gardens and return to Minas Tirith the way you came. Whichever team succeeds is the winner. Are there any questions?”

     Complete silence was her answer. The contestants looked bemused or excited, and Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir more than a little rueful. She spoke again.

   “To make it clear which team you are on, I have had these tabards made. Yes, they are designed to look like playing cards, and I’m sure that those of you who know the story will enlighten your comrades later. The Fellowship of the Green Dragon shall wear the red tabards; the Elves shall wear the black. Faramir Took and Prince Legolas shall wear these.”

     Arwen held up an elf-sized tabard that was white with a target sewn onto the front in midnight blue. A bull’s eye rested right in the center of the chest. Faramir and Legolas exchanged startled glances. Arwen smiled at them.

    “You will learn what these are for tomorrow. Now, I suggest that you rest and gather your strength, and that you go over all of the songs and riddles you know. We meet on the Field of the Pelennor tomorrow. For now, namarie,” the Queen told them, and, followed by the ladies, swept from the throne room.

    “Well,” said Aragorn. “There we have it.”

*****

   It was a slightly panicked group of children who gathered in the nursery after the council with Queen Arwen. Eldarion ran for his bookshelf and came back with a green leather-bound book of children’s tales, which had been his nanas when she was a child. He flipped through the parchment pages until he found what he was looking for.

   “Here it is! The story of Oranra and the Land of Unusual Creatures,” he said, holding the book up for them to see.

    Theodwyn took it from him and began to read it aloud to them. It seemed that sometime in the early Third Age, a young elf maiden had followed a small rabbit down what she supposed to be a rabbit hole. It was really a tunnel created by goblins that led into an unknown land filled with unusual creatures. She found herself in a small house built into a hillside, which was almost too small for her to enter (“That would be the hobbit hole,” Elfwine said), and was only able to escape after she found a strange clay pipe that made her very small. After leaving the house, she met one of Queen Beruthiel’s cats, and answered riddles until she thought that her head would burst. After finally managing to escape the cat, she found herself at a tea party with a group of Dwarves, who insisted upon her singing every song she knew, until she was able to sneak off when they were arguing about which song was best. The worst part was when she was in the garden of Queen Beruthiel herself, and in constant danger of losing her head. The whole time, a deck of enchanted human playing cards, which wanted to turn her into the Ace of Spades, pursued her. She was able to save another elf maiden who had offended the queen, and together they escaped back to the woods of Middle Earth. They all lived happily ever after. The end.

     Theodwyn put the book down and looked around at her friends. Elfwine was the first to speak.

     “We are in a lot of trouble,” he said glumly. 

*****

      “I can’t believe her! Of all the things that she could possibly think of, this is the worst!”

     Elladan grinned weakly at his brother. The Elves were seated in the parlor given to them for their use, talking amongst themselves about the morrow’s contest. The Sons of Elrond were not amused with Arwen’s plot at all. The story had been concocted by Celeborn nearly a millennia ago, when Arwen, after having been climbing on the roof, was laid up with a broken leg. It had been one of Arwen’s favorite tales ever since, and she had doubtless passed it on to her child and his friends.

    “Really, El, we shouldn’t be surprised,” Elladan said. “You know what Arwen is like. The whole contest tomorrow will be geared so that the children won’t be injured.”

    Here, Haldir, who had been listening nearby, broke into the conversation. “Forgive me, my lords, but I am not so sure that just because this contest involves children, it will be easy. These children all come from the stoutest families in Arda, and it is highly unlikely that Queen Arwen has overlooked that fact.”

    The lords of Imladris had to concede to this point. Arwen was, after all, their sister. They had taught her well. The queen could read mortals like an open book, and doubtless she knew what the children were capable of. With twin sighs of defeat, they turned their attention to choosing who would assist them through the challenge. Arwen had given each team six tabards, five for the contestants and one for the captive. Each one would have to be filled.

   In the end, they chose themselves, Haldir, Lindir, and Elrohir’s wife, Immeren. These three were chosen for their intelligence, bravery, and skills in songs and riddles. The fact that the other elves had absolutely no intention of getting into a riddle contest with a talking cat was steadfastly ignored. When the players had been chosen and the tabards handed out, Elladan surveyed the group with a weak grin.

    “If nothing else, we must always remember that we have brought this upon ourselves,” he said. “Ah, well. Bring on tomorrow.”

TBC.

Disclaimer: I don’t own them, and I’ll put them back when I’m done!

Author’s Note: Sorry about the long wait, real life reared its ugly head and got in the way. This was also a long and complicated chapter to write. That being said, I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know if you do!

Chapter Seventeen: The Challenge Happens

     “I’ll kill him. Really, I will. I don’t care if he is a knight of Rohan or the Master of Buckland, when I find him, I will wring his neck!”

     Pippin glanced up at Eowyn worriedly. The White Lady’s jaw was set, and her eyes were blazing. She was absolutely furious.

     “I’m sure that we’ll find him, Eowyn,” he said quickly, hoping to divert disaster. “He’s probably in a pub or inn somewhere.”

     Eowyn rolled her eyes. “Yes, that’s the problem. Here, isn’t this the one you like?”

     That she neglected to state that the inn in the Fourth Circle was the same in which she and Arwen had first truly bonded was beside the point. Pippin nodded and followed her inside, almost running to keep up with her long strides.

   They found the knight they were looking for in a far corner of the common room. Merry was slumped against the wall on a bench, a huge mug of ale clenched tightly in one fist. His face was slack and his eyes were slightly unfocused, and from the reek of him, he was obviously dead drunk.

     “Meriadoc Brandybuck!” roared Eowyn, advancing across the room with a stride that would have frightened grown men. “What in the name of Eorl are you doing?!”

   Merry hiccupped. “Drinking. Want a mug, m’lady?”

   Pippin winced in sympathy as Eowyn swooped down on Merry and seized him by the collar. Merry gave an undignified yelp, and protested incoherently as she dragged him to his feet and marched him towards the entrance.

   “I cannot believe you, running out on us the night before the challenge! We’ve been searching the city high and low since supper, and here you are in a pub, getting completely crocked! Oh, send the bill to the Steward, thank you,” Eowyn said sweetly to the innkeeper, as he opened his mouth to ask for his money. “You’ll have it by tomorrow.”

    “Eowyn, you’re very pretty when you’re angry,” Merry slurred, listing to one side.

    Eowyn snorted and didn’t bother to answer. To argue with a drunken hobbit was the last thing she needed.

*****

   Estella stepped into Arwen’s sitting room and shut the door behind her, a rueful look on his face.

    “Well?” Arwen asked, pausing from her pacing before the fireplace. “How is he?”

    “He’ll live,” Estella said. “I haven’t seen him this drunk, though, since two days before we were married. Are you certain that Pippin wasn’t with him?”

     “Estella!” protested the Thain, as the ladies laughed. “Really, I wasn’t the only one there that night!”

    Estella just shook her head. “Anyway, he will be hung over tomorrow, but as all he has to do is lie around looking pitiful, he’ll be just fine.”

    “Good!” Arwen said, sitting gracefully down in her chair. “We’ve done entirely too much planning to have to change it now.”

*****

   Theodwyn woke up with the sun shining in her face. She blinked for a moment, confused, as she was not in her own bed, then sat up with the memory that she and the rest of the fellowship had fallen asleep in Eldarion’s room last night. Looking around, she saw that Eldarion, Elfwine, Elanorallie and Rowan were still sound asleep, curled up in the big bed. Legolas, however, was stretched out on his mattress on the floor, arms folded behind his head, gazing absently at the ceiling. He turned his head and smiled at her when he sensed her watching him.

     “Good morning, Theo,” he said. “How did you sleep?”

     “Very well, thank you, Legolas,” she replied. “Should I wake the lads and Ella up?”

     “Yes, I suppose you ought to. The Queen’s Challenge starts in an hour.”

     At that, Theodwyn threw herself at the lads, heedless of her injured arm, and shook them, shrieking, “We’re late! We’re late! Wake up!”

    The lads were out of Eldarion’s huge bed in half a moment, flying for their day clothes and running into the nursery for a quick breakfast. Legolas was handed his new tunic, with the bull’s eye in the center, and Eldarion handed Theodwyn and Elanorallie a pair of trousers and a shirt of his own to wear for the day.

     “A dress will get in the way,” he informed them cheerfully. “Wear those.”

     At last, they were all dressed and fed, and were running through the halls of the citadel, out the door, and down the streets of the City. Legolas carried Rowan, who couldn’t keep up with the other children. They were midway through the sixth circle when a voice hailed them.

     “Hey, there! Your highness!”

     The children slowed, and they turned to see one of the Rohirrim guards, a man named Caelin, driving a cart towards them. He was one of Eomer’s personal guards, and the children adored him for the stories he could tell. Elfwine led them to him.

   “Hello, Caelin! Are you going to the Pelennor Fields?”

   Caelin nodded, saluting them. “Aye, I am. Come on, hop up, and I’ll take you down there.”

    Legolas lifted the children in and climbed up next to the soldier. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “It would have been a long run down to the field if you hadn’t stopped us.”

    Caelin smiled. “Just trying to be of service, my lord.”

    The Pelennor Fields was bustling when the children, Legolas, and Caelin arrived. Caelin let them off near the royal pavilion, and they hurried up to greet their parents.
    “Good, you didn’t sleep late,” Aragorn said as they hurried up to him.

    “We would have if it hadn’t been for Theo, your highness,” Elanorallie said with a grin. “She woke us all up.”

    Aragorn grinned back at her, then glanced over at Faramir. “Are we ready?” he asked.

    “Yes, the Elves arrived a few minutes ago,” the Steward said. “Shall I give the alert to sit down?”

   “Yes, thank you, Faramir,” Aragorn replied, directing the children and Legolas off of the platform to join the Elves. “I don’t suppose that our wives are joining us?”

   From where he was seated, Eomer grinned at him. “I don’t think so, Wingfoot,” he said cheerfully. “Nor your hobbit knight, either. From the way they were all grinning at each other in the dining hall this morning, they are going to be a part of this from beginning to end.”

    Aragorn sighed and shook his head. Arwen had positively outdone herself with the course for this challenge. It consisted of a large maze made of young potted trees, and had a small tunnel made of several huge barrels at the entrance. A small replica of a hobbit hole was a few feet from the exit to the tunnel, and from where he was standing, Aragorn could see a large grey cat sitting on a large bench. A figure that looked oddly like that of Thranduil could be seen between the leaves of some of the trees. Further along, a large table had been set up and covered with food, and was edged in by potted shrubs. The trees turned to a maze of roses after that, and Aragorn turned back to Eomer, shaking his head.

    “I am worried, Eomer,” he said. “Not for any of the elves, but just for the sheer madness that this contest is going to provoke.”

     Eomer grinned. “Alas, poor Wingfoot. Come on, sit down. The games are about to begin.”

*****

    “Good luck! And may the blessings of Men, and Elves, and all free peoples go with you.”

     The contestants gazed up and Arwen, all trying not to look worried. They were failing miserably, but no one could blame them for that. The Queen dropped her handkerchief, and the two teams each started into the maze from a different starting point. Legolas and Faramir Took, each clad in the bull’s eye tabard, grimly shook each other’s hands and marched after their captors. Aragorn, watching from the pavilion, had to commend them. At the moment, they were much braver than he was.

    The children reached the hobbit hole first, rather unsure where the Elves had gone. Eldarion was in the lead, Legolas brought up the rear. The hobbit hole was actually a single room, the parlor, and fit the children perfectly. Legolas had to stoop to get through the door.

    “Look for the pipe,” Eldarion instructed. “It should be here somewhere.”

    “Is this it?” asked Rowan, holding up a small clay pipe, which he had found on a table in the parlor. “It looks like Lord Took’s.”

     Legolas fought the urge to snicker at that. “I believe he has asked all of you to call him either Mr. Took or Pippin,” he said. “Lord Took makes him feel ridiculous.”

    “Oh,” said Rowan, handing the pipe to Eldarion. “All right.”

    Elfwine led the way out of the hole, and they found themselves following a small path. It meandered on for about ten yards, and then they abruptly found themselves facing a large tree, in front of which sat a large bench. A big grey cat sat staring at them. The children stared back for a moment, then Elfwine bowed.

   “Greetings, O Cat of Queen Beruthiel,” he said. “We seek to pass you.”

   A voice came out from the curtain of green behind the cat. “You must answer three of my riddles, then.”

    Legolas groaned and sat down on the grass. He should have known that Arwen would have talked his father into helping her. But…the voice of a cat? What in Arda were they coming to?

    “We will answer your riddles,” Eldarion said. “Tell us.”

    The grey cat blinked, and Thranduil’s voice began after a moment. “Know this: you are not allowed to ask the older Elf for help. The first riddle is ‘Thirty white horses on a red hill. First they champ, then they stamp, then they stand still.’”

    The children looked at each other, puzzlement showing on all of their faces. Legolas sighed. At this rate, they would never get through the day. He began to loudly click his teeth together.

    Theodwyn was the first to get the hint. “Teeth!” she shrieked. “The horses are teeth chewing food!”

     “That is correct,” the “Cat” stated. “Now, ‘Cut me and I weep tears as red as my flesh, yet my heart is made of stone. What am I?’”

     “Oh, that’s simple,” muttered Legolas.

     “We’re in trouble,” Rowan said cheerfully, and sat down next to him. “Do you know the answer?”

      “Yes, but I cannot say it,” Legolas replied. “Perhaps Elanorallie knows?”

      The elf child nodded. “It’s a cherry, Sir Cat,” she said.

       “Yes, you are right. If you can answer the next one, you may pass. ‘A box without hinges, key, or lid, yet golden treasure inside is hid.’”

      “An egg,” said Eldarion quickly. “It’s an egg.”

     “Very good,” replied the “Cat”. “You may pass.”

     The children cheered and hurried n down the path. As Legolas passed the cat’s bench, he said, “Very good acting, Father.”

    “Yes, it is fitting for the King of Eryn Lasgalen to pretend to be a cat, is it not? Very sly, we are. Oh, and Elrohir’s team is just behind you. You had best hurry. And watch out for arrows,” the hidden Thranduil said. Legolas could hear the traces of a smile in his face. Deciding that he didn’t want to know what Thranduil meant by arrows, he hurried after the children.

    They had gone ahead of him to tea party. To Legolas’ everlasting amazement, Arwen had somehow managed to convince Gimli and three of the other dwarves to sit and judge the singing. The four of them were sitting at the table, drinking tea and making bawdy jokes. When he saw the children standing hesitantly at the gate, however, Gimli raised a hand to silence his friends.

    “Ah, our entertainment has arrived!” he cried. “Well, let’s have a song, then.”

    Eldarion and Elfwine glanced at each other, at a loss for all of the songs they knew. Elfwine nodded at his cousin, and Eldarion grinned. As one, they pushed Theodwyn forward.

   “Hey!” she cried, struggling. “Let me go!”

   “Go on, Theo, sing!” commanded Eldarion. “We know you can.”

    Theo glared at the lads, but getting no help from them, and receiving only sympathetic looks from Elanorallie and Rowan, she turned back to the dwarves with a sigh. They were all watching her with interest.

   “Any songs, my lady,” Gimli said. “We’ll choose the best.”

   “Oh, all right,” Theo whispered, and cleared her throat. The only song that came to her mind was a song that the King had taught her father, which she had overheard. “I am a weaver, a Calton weaver. I am a rash and a roving blade. I’ve got silver in my pouches, and I follow the roving’ trade-“ she began.

   “No! Not that one!” yelped Gimli. “That is not a proper song for a lady to sing. Give us another.”

    “Oh. All right, this one, then,” Theo replied, a trifle surprised. “It reminds me of you, Gimli. Woodman, spare that tree!Touch not a single bough!In youth it sheltered me,and I'll protect it now.'Twas my forefather's hand,that placed it near his cot:There, woodman, let it stand,thy axe shall harm it not!”

    Eldarion buried his face in his hands and groaned softly as Theo sang. Behind him, Legolas was trying not to laugh. The rest of the children had looks of amazement on their faces; Theodwyn was going out on a limb with this song. When it ended, the little lady of Ithilien folded her hands and smiled.

   “When Legolas told me about how you met Treebeard, he sang me this song. I think that it should have been “Tree, Spare that Woodsman” instead of “Woodsman, spare that tree”. What do you think?”

    Gimli blinked and looked at the other dwarves. They were all endeavoring not to laugh, and the dwarf lord shook his head. 

    “Lady Theodwyn, I think that you and your friends may pass. That was a very interesting song,” he said.

    “Oh, thank you, Gimli!” cried Theo, springing forward and hugging him. “Come on, all of you, let’s go! We have to rescue the hapless maiden!”

    “ ‘Tree, Spare that Woodsman’,” Gimli muttered as the children and Legolas passed. “I have to remember that.”

*****

    They found themselves in the rose maze after that. Rowan tugged on Eldarion’s tabard as they left the tea party.

    “We have to hurry,” he said. “The elves have arrived.”

    Eldarion looked behind him. It was true, the elvish team was at the tea party, and it seemed that they were having no trouble at all. Quickly, he grabbed as many of his friends as he could, and they ran for it, determined not to lose.

    The maze was long and twisty, and they were soon lost. There was no going back, however, and so they kept at it. Legolas occasionally lifted Rowan up and had him look about. The little lad would then point them in the right direction, and they continued on their way.

    It was when they lifted Rowan up for the third time that they got a scare.

    “The Elves are getting close!” the lad cried. “Hurry!”

    “To think I’m running from my own people,” Legolas thought as they dashed away. “It’s absurd.”

     Eldarion led them around a few more corners before the next surprise hit them. Literally. A blunt arrow, tipped in blue chalk, came out of nowhere and hit Legolas in the chest.

    “Ouch!” the Elf bellowed, dropping Rowan and looking around. He could see no one. “So this is what he meant by ‘watch out for arrows’!” Legolas muttered, remembering his father’s warning. “Who shot me?” he called.

   There was no answer, but shortly another arrow whacked him between the shoulder blades. Legolas cursed in Quenya, and strode towards the nearest turn.

   “So that’s why we had to wear the tabards with the bull’s eyes,” he muttered. “I’m going to wring her neck.”

  “Wow!” cried Eldarion, catching up with him. “Queen Beruthiel’s guards are on to us! We’d better go faster!’

   “Yes, we can’t be caught by them,” Elanorallie said seriously. “That would be bad.”

   Legolas smiled grimly. “Aye. The next archer to shoot at me will regret it.”

    The children grinned at each other, but seeing Legolas’ annoyed face, they didn’t say anything.

    It was only a few moments later that they found the middle of the maze. With whoops and cheers, the children ran for it, and burst into the open square. Then they stopped in amazement, gawking at the sight that met their eyes.

    Across the square, a high pitched little voice squeaked, “Cousin Merry?!”

TBC

Disclaimer: I don’t own them, and I’ll put them back safely when I’m done!

Author’s Note: I’m terribly sorry it took me so long to update, but school just ended and I now have time to write. Expect regular updates for as long as this story continues. Thank you, all of my readers!

Chapter Eighteen: The End of the Contest

  The opponents sat in two groups, staring at each other. Merry sat against his pole, hands still tied behind his back, glowering at them all. Legolas and Faramir Took sat patiently in the shade, waiting to see what would happen. Faramir was covered in orange powder.

   When the children had looked up to see the elves standing in the opposite entrance to the open square, they had shrieked and dived at Merry. Merry, hot and hung over, had groaned and resorted to childishly kicking them away from him.

    “Get off me, or I’ll bite you!” he growled. “I will!”

    The children had backed away, and the elves, who had started forward, stopped. Faramir nodded wisely at them.

    “That’s a good idea,’ he said. “Cousin Merry has sharp teeth.”

    And so they sat in a face off. Elladan glowered at them, and Eldarion glared back until Elfwine whispered in his ear, and they turned away. Their whispers were so soft that Legolas could barely hear them.

   Merry gave a loud sigh and growled, “If you’re not going to untie me, can you at least give me some water? My head is being pounded by dwarvish hammers.”

   Immeren, Elrohir’s wife, stood and helped the hobbit drink from a water skin she had carried with her. Merry smiled at her gratefully, than proceeded to glower again at the rest of the assembled personages. From where he was sitting next to Lindir, Faramir stifled a giggle.

   At last, Eldarion stood up and faced them all. “As son of the High King Elessar, I hereby decree that anyone who steals a hobbit, or who forces one to do something against their will, will be forced to sleep in the dungeons.”

  Elladan coughed back a laugh; Eldarion looked so much like the child Aragorn had at that moment that he couldn’t help but chuckle. The children were all glaring at them, backing their prince up.

   “Then I suppose that Queen Arwen and Lady Eowyn will be sleeping in the dungeon?” Merry demanded. “Because Overheaven knows that I was forced to do this!”

   Eldarion faltered; he hadn’t thought of that. Theodwyn leapt to her feet and placed her hands on her hips, obviously prepared to do any dirty work for him.

    “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t kidnapped Faramir!” she cried, glaring at the Elves.

    It starts, Legolas thought, and fought to keep from rolling his eyes.

    “My lady, as I recall, you were the ones who took Prince Legolas captive in the first place,” Elrohir said serenely. “We merely retaliated.”

   Theo snorted. “Yes, but we’re children!”

   “Can we please not fight and resolve this!” bellowed Merry, sounding for all the world like he was about to wail. “It’s hot out here, and I’m wanting my lunch, so if you can please settle this issue, I’d be most grateful. Thank you.”

   Properly cowed, the elves and the children stared at each other a little more. Faramir crawled into Immeren’s lap and fell asleep, and Rowan stretched out on the grass next to Legolas. Elfwine’s stomach rumbled, and still they did not budge. Merry leaned back against his post and began to sing the bawdiest song that he could think of, hoping that it would force them into hostage negotiations. It worked.

    “Prince Eldarion, you are too much like us for your own good,” sighed Elrohir, throwing a glare at the master of Buckland. “You want Faramir back, and we want Legolas released, right?” Eldarion nodded, and the Elf lord continued. “How about this: we will end the game on a draw. We will all march out together with Master Brandybuck, and tell the King and Queen that we wish to lay aside our differences and be friends. Then we will release the prisoners, and will head back into the City. Doubtless a hearty lunch will be waiting for us.”

     At that, Faramir opened his eyes. “Lunch? Where?”

    The children giggled, and went into a small huddle. There was much whispering and shaking of heads, and one emphatic, “But I like the Elves, Elfwine!” from Rowan, and then they turned back around to face their audience.

    “We have agreed to end the game in a draw, and will now proceed out of the maze with all of you, my lords and lady,” Eldarion said. “We will release Legolas if you will release Faramir.”

   Immeren responded by untying the rope around Faramir’s wrist. The hobbit sprang up with a grin and ran across the lawn to his friends. Theodwyn grabbed him and hugged him tightly, closely followed by Elanorallie. “You’re back! You’re back!” they chanted gleefully. Faramir looked a little flustered.

   Eldarion untied Legolas, grinning slightly at him. “You’re free to go, my lord,” he said, bowing.

   Legolas bowed back. “Thank you, my prince,” he said. “Go rescue Faramir from the ladies.”

   Eldarion and Elfwine glanced back to where the hobbit was heatedly protesting the hugs and kisses being forced upon him by Theodwyn and Elanorallie, while Rowan looked on and giggled. Legolas went over to the sons of Elrond, and the others, while the lads went to rescue their friend.

   “Well, this has certainly been an interesting adventure, hasn’t it, my friends?” he said, grinning broadly.

   Elrohir laughed and cuffed Legolas playfully on the arm. “It certainly has. Who would have thought that children would challenge us?”

   “Ah, but they are led by Estel’s son,” Immeren pointed out. “Who would do such a thing.”

   Lindir laughed, trading an amused glance with Haldir. The older Elf was untying Merry, who was looking extremely gratified to be free. The hobbit clapped his hands, commanding all of the attention to himself.

  “It’s well past luncheon, my lords and ladies. Shall we get out of this maze and demand our lunch?”

*****

   Aragorn, Eomer, and Prince Faramir were standing at the edge of the Royal Pavilion, gazing out at the two teams. They appeared to be in a standoff of sorts, which Aragorn knew from experience could last for hours. Merry looked furious, and Aragorn felt a stab of pity for him, tied to a pole wearing a pale pink dress. He was rather glad that Faramir and Eomer were in control of themselves again. They had spent the first half hour of the contest laughing themselves silly over Merry’s plight. It had taken Aragorn threatening to make them wear dresses to the next feast that had finally made them be quiet.

 “Ah, here we go,” Faramir muttered, as the prisoners were untied. “Valar save us when Legolas comes after us.”

   Eomer gave an undignified snicker. “I fear for Arwen. Merry looks like he’s out for blood.”

   “Yes, but his retributions are generally harmless in the long run, although they are very annoying at the start,” Aragorn said without thinking. This earned him two very interested glances. To change the subject, he nodded back towards the field. “Here they come.”

    The Elves and the children were walking together out of the maze, coming back the way that they had gone in. Merry had pulled the dress off, revealing his trousers and shirtsleeves.

   At that same moment, Arwen, Eowyn, and the hobbit matrons appeared at the entrance to the pavilion. They were all unabashedly grinning broadly, although Arwen was the only one who had managed to make hers serene. They assembled themselves as the teams came out of the maze.

    “Have you come to present the winners?” the Queen asked as the sweaty, bedraggled players came out of the maze.

    Lindir bowed. “Your highness, we have ended in a draw,” he announced.

    Arwen nodded. “I take it you sorted out your differences, and exchanged prisoners?” They all nodded. “Good. In that case, we will retire to the Citadel for the victory feast. But first, tell me. How many times were the prisoners hit by blunted arrows?”

    “There was a reason for that?” cried Legolas. Arwen nodded and raised an eyebrow at him. “Twice.”

   “Four times, Queen Arwen,” Faramir Took said cheerfully. “But it didn’t really hurt. They more came out of the bushes and whacked me.”

   Arwen smiled at him. “I’m glad of that. I must announce that the arrows were for a reason. They let me know how many points each team received. Now I know. You will find out the rest at tonight’s feast.”

    With that, she swept off of the stand. The contestants glanced at each other, shrugged, and started back towards the City. Legolas rubbed his shoulder absently.

   “Whatever it is she’s up to now,” he said to Elladan, “It had better be good.”

    Elladan nodded fervently. He had thought it would be over, with the end of the contest. Apparently not.

TBC

Disclaimer: I don’t own them, and I’ll put them back safely when I’m done!

Author’s Note: Well, this is the end, to quote Frodo. I thank all of you for taking the time to read and review, and hope that you will continue to read my stories. Thank you!

Chapter Nineteen: Gifts

   It was a grand luncheon that awaited them back at the Citadel, and both the teams and the spectators ate hungrily. There was a general feeling of celebration in the hall, as the two opposing teams were finally able to mingle. It seemed that all propriety vanished, as the children ran back and forth from their seats to their parents with bits of food and drink. Merry shed the hated pink dress for more comfortable hobbit wear, and Theodwyn and Elanorallie spent several futile minutes trying to brush a quantity of blue powder from Legolas’ tunic, powder which they had not noticed before, but which they were all willing to bet came from the blunted arrows of the rose maze. At last, Arwen stood up.

    “It seems that our contest has ended in a draw, but there are some awards for valor that must be given,” she began. “The blunted arrows were each covered in powder, blue and orange. This allowed me to see how well each team did. It seems that the hobbit, Faramir, was hit the most, thereby allowing him to win this wooden soldier and horse, carved by Gaer, personal guard to King Eomer of Rohan, specifically for this purpose.”

   Faramir stood up and accepted his prize with a grin, bowing handsomely to Arwen. When he sat down, his friends crowded close to see the toys. Arwen, however, continued.

    “Prince Legolas was also hit, although less times than Faramir. This, coupled with his patience at being the captive of the children, is worthy of honor. He wins a new chess set, made by the Dwarves of the Glittering Caves,” she said. More cheers, and Legolas accepted his prize with a sheepish grin. “I have other gifts to bestow, as well, to all those who helped with this game. For the use of his riders as couriers, I gift to Eomer a dagger made by the Elves of Eryn Lasgalen, formerly Mirkwood. For her patience and help in all of this, I give Eowyn of Emyn Arnen a wolf hound puppy.”

   Eowyn and Eomer were very pleased, and Arwen moved on to give gifts to everyone else. Theodwyn received a book of elvish tales, Elfwine a small painting of a horse, and Rowan received a small bag of new marbles. Eldarion received a wooden sword, and Elanorallie was given a book of the ballads and riddles of Men. Estella and Diamond were given necklaces, and Thranduil, to the delight of all of the Elves in the hall, was given a blue banner with a silver cat on it. Pippin received a pewter mug, and Prince Faramir was given a book of the history of the Elves. Many other gifts were given, as well, to all of those who had helped with the game.

   “Last of all, but certainly not least,” said Arwen, “I must bestow a gift on Meriadoc Brandybuck. He put up with the follies of the ladies and I, and did not enjoy it much. To him I gift three barrels of dwarvish ale and a pewter mug.”

   Merry and Pippin stood up and cheered, while Aragorn and Legolas, along with the rest of the men, groaned and traded desperate glances. Hobbits and dwarvish ale were never a good mix.

   At last, the last gifts were given out, and the festivities returned to normal. At their end of the long table, the children were grouped together, talking.

  “What shall our next adventure be?” Eldarion asked his friends. “We never got to play any other games, remember? We only played Ella’s game.”

  Elfwine nodded gleefully. “Rohan next! We can play war, and pretend to be great Riders of the Mark!”

  “Or we can pretend to be rangers of Ithilien,” Theodwyn said. “I’m sure that we can use old cloaks and such, Eldarion.” Ella nodded her agreement.

    Faramir and Rowan traded a look. “I have an idea,” Faramir said loudly. “Why don’t we play a hobbit game? It’s called ‘Go home and rest after the grand adventure’. It’s very fun.”

    The rest of the children glanced at each other. Eldarion opened his mouth to protest, but stopped when Theodwyn yawned. Suddenly, quiet games in the nursery sounded very appealing.

   “That’s a good idea, Faramir,” he agreed. “I say we do that for awhile. Who agrees with me?”

   The adults looked over at the children as their voices were raised in a chorus of “Me!” and “I do!” They grinned at each other.

   “It seems that they’ve had a good idea, for once,” Aragorn said.

   Eomer laughed. “Aye, there cannot be too much danger in rest and relaxation.”

   “We hope,” muttered Legolas.

   The table exploded into laughter, and Aragorn raised his glass. “To youth!” he said. “May it ever be merry and joyful!”

    All over the hall, glasses and goblets were raised. “To youth!”  

   At last, it was all over, and the company dispersed to continue their duties. The sleepy children were led back to the nursery, and as he settled down on a big divan to sleep, young Faramir wondered what sorts of adventures they would have later on. He only hoped that they would be as fun as this one had been.

Finis.