Disclaimer: I own nothing and I’ll put them all back safely, I promise!

Note: I pulled this idea from two sources: in “The Hobbit”, it says that the Bullroarer beheaded an orc, and the head rolled down a rabbit hole, thus inventing the game of golf. Also, at the Ren. Faire, men walk all over playing golf (really just hitting the ball around), and receiving free drinks for it at all of the pubs and taverns along the way. I just couldn’t resist putting two and two together.

“The Audaciousness of Hobbits”

By Elendiari

       Legolas looked at the hobbits in front of him in askance. “What do you mean, ‘would I like to learn a new game,?’” he asked dubiously. “Whenever the two of you try to teach me anything, it always ends in fireworks.”

    Pippin had the decency to look scandalized. “Legolas, neither Merry nor I have touched a firework since Bilbo’s eleventy-first birthday party. This is a simple hobbit game, even Frodo plays it.”

      “Yes, and when have we ever purposely gotten you into trouble?” Merry asked innocently.

      Legolas raised an eyebrow. The trip up-and down- Caradhras was still very clear in his memory. Sensing this, Merry spoke hastily.

      “I promise, Legolas, we have nothing tricksy planned. Besides, it’s golf. What could possibly happen?”

     In short order, Legolas found himself armed with a long, slender metal club with a foot, one of the three that Pippin had enticed one of the metal workers in the City to make for him. It was a warm day in Minas Tirith, and many folk were out and about. They were right outside the Citadel, and Legolas could sense that the guards were watching them curiously. He shook the feeling and listened attentively to Merry.

     “All right, you take this ball, see?” Merry held up a small white ball. “And you hit it with your club, and try to get it down to the door of that house, there.” He pointed.

      Legolas nodded and Merry dropped the ball on the ground. Praying that this “game” wouldn’t land them all in the dungeons, Legolas nudged it gently. It rolled two yards and stopped.

     “Come now, Legolas, hit it harder,” chided Pippin.

     “Just not hard enough to break any windows,” Merry added, as Legolas advanced and hit the ball again.

        It rolled and bounced forward until it hit the front step of the stone house, and the hobbits cheered. In spite of himself, Legolas grinned.

   “Do I hit it again?” he asked, finding that he rather liked this game.

   “No, now it’s my turn, then Merry’s,” Pippin replied, taking Legolas’ place and wielding the smaller, hobbit sized club.

       As the morning progressed, the three companions slowly moved out of the upper circles, hitting the ball before them and winning many curious looks from the inhabitants of Minas Tirith.  At the first pub, however, Legolas had the sneaking suspicion that he was going to be the one in trouble for this little adventure.

      Merry hit the ball right through the door of the tavern, and he and Pippin followed it cheerfully. Legolas followed them after a moment, wondering what they were up to now.

    “What can I do for you, my lords?” the innkeeper asked, bowing to them.

    “Can you aid us in our game? It is a tradition in our land, you see, for the innkeepers to give a mug of ale to the golf players that pass his pub,” Merry explained. “My cousin and I are trying to introduce golf to the City.”

    The innkeeper was a curious man, and eager to learn of whatever went on in distant lands. Therefore, he willingly gave the hobbits each a brimming mug of ale, and Legolas a mug of rich wine. And what’s more, he sent an errand boy to tell all of the other innkeepers in the City that three of the Heros of the West were playing a new game, and that they should be aided accordingly.

      “Is this normal?” Legolas inquired as they left the inn and started hitting the ball before them again. “To beg free drinks off of the innkeepers?”

     Merry waved a hand impatiently. “Yes, yes, or we wouldn’t be doing it now, would we, Legolas. We’re pranksters, not thieves!”

       Legolas just shook his head.

      Minas Tirith had a bush message system that beat anything that the Elf had ever seen before. There were not many pubs and taverns in the City, yet even if they only hit the ball to the doorstep of a house, a matron or young maid came out and gave them drinks. Legolas found himself thinking that “golf” was a mere excuse for hobbits to get free ale, seeing that Merry and Pippin were weaving a little on their feet. He wasn’t feeling too fresh himself.

     “I believe that we should turn around, and go back to the Citadel,” Legolas said. They had reached the third circle, and the hobbits’ weaving was even more pronounced than it had been. “Come, you will not dissuade me, either of you. Come on.”

     “But Legolas,” began Pippin, but Legolas cut him off firmly.

     “No buts. You are in my care, and Frodo will have my head if I allow you to become any more drunk than you already are.” And he caught Pippin up under an arm and started towards the Citadel.

     “You’re more than a little drunk yourself, Legolas,” Merry groused, but followed.

     They had scarcely gone one hundred yards when Legolas was suddenly hit by a wave of dizziness. Elves do not get drunk very easily, and it hits them very suddenly, and so Legolas knew in a heartbeat that that was what was wrong. He set Pippin down and turned to see how Merry was doing. The older hobbit was weaving on his feet, a foolish look upon his face. Legolas sighed and looked around for a passing citizen. The only one handy at the moment was a young maiden of about twelve winters. She was watching them curiously from her doorstep.

    “My lady, we are in need of assistance,” Legolas said, his voice slightly slurred. “Would you be so kind as to run up to the Citadel and summon the King for me?”

     The girl stared at the Elf in surprise. “You need special permission to go into the Citadel, my lord.”

    Legolas stared back at her blankly, then felt into his pockets. “Here,” he said, pulling out a handkerchief embroidered with the crest of the King of Mirkwood. “Take this and run. Tell Elessar that I have two inebriated periannath down here-what circle is this?”

    “The third,” replied the girl, taking the handkerchief in wonder. “My name is Melia, so you know.”

    Legolas nodded, and Melia set off at a run. He took her place at the doorstep, pulling the now-giggling Merry and Pippin with him.

   “Sometimes, he thought, these two are more trouble than they’re worth.”

*****

      Aragorn was sitting at the desk in his study when Faramir opened the door.

“My lord,” Faramir said, “There is a young lady here with news that she says she can only give the King. Shall I show her in?”

     “Yes, do,” replied Aragorn, standing up.

     Faramir stood back and ushered Melia in. Aragorn saw a small lass with a long green dress and brown hair, who looked frightened out of her wits. She bobbed a curtsey.

      “Your highness,” she said, “I am Melia, and I was bid to come tell you by the Elven Prince that he and two of the periannath are down in the Third Circle…drunk.”

        Aragorn’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline. Melia saw this, and hastily held up Legolas’ handkerchief.  Aragorn took it and sighed.

      “What are they up to now?” he muttered, shaking his head. Melia didn’t answer, and he looked back at her. “Can you show me where they are?”

      “Yes, my lord,” Melia said, nodding.

      Aragorn nodded back at her and sent a man to saddle his horse.

*****

     Legolas felt that he had been waiting for help to arrive for an eternity. Merry and Pippin had begun singing drinking songs, and were giggling so hard in places that Legolas had trouble understanding them. What he could piece together stunned him; he had had no idea that hobbits had such songs in their culture. He was beginning to suspect that Merry and Pippin were not as innocent as they seemed.

    At the sound of hooves approaching, Legolas looked up. Aragorn and the lass he had sent to for help, Melia, were riding up to them on Roheryn, Aragorn’s horse. Behind them came two more men, one of them Beregond leading Arod. Legolas didn’t trust himself to stand; he could hardly see straight, as it was.

     “Legolas, my friend, what is going on?” Aragorn asked as he dismounted and helped a rather stunned-looking Melia to the ground.

     “They were trying to teach me a Shire game,” Legolas replied, sounding distinctly slurred. “It involved sticks and ale.”

    Aragorn rolled his eyes as he handed the Beregond and the other man Merry and Pippin, who were now snickering uncontrollably. Legolas ignored him and tired to rise to his own feet. He reeled with dizziness, and would have fallen if Melia had not caught his arm.

     “Thank you, my lady,” Legolas sighed. “Would you assist me to my horse?”

    As Melia watched them ride away, she reflected that Minis Tirith would be a very dull place indeed, once these visitors left.

      “Legolas, what were you thinking?” grumbled Aragorn. “I could have told you not to play that!”

    “I didn’t know!” snapped Legolas, rubbing his aching head. “But the three of us will be paying for it tomorrow.”

     Aragorn shook his head and sighed. “And that, my friend, is the game of golf.”

The End.