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