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

Author’s Note: My thanks to the lovely Dreamflower, who e-mailed me a list of enough pranks to make this fic last the summer. Thank you, too, all of those who left a suggestion!

Chapter Five: Bubbles

“Mr. Merry! Wait a moment!”

Merry paused in the corridor outside their room, releasing Pippin’s arm as he turned to face Sam. The gardener was hurrying towards them, holding a plate covered with a fine linen napkin in each hand. He presented them to Merry with a slightly embarrassed smile.

“Can’t have you lads going hungry with this prank war going on,” he said. “You’ll need your wits about you. I’m not taking sides in this, sir, but it’s not good for a hobbit to go hungry.”

Merry was touched. He took the plates and peeked under one of the napkins; the plate was filled with roast turkey, taters, and several biscuits. The plates were elf-sized, and definitely contained enough to last them until breakfast.

“Thank you, Sam,” Merry said, handing one of the plates to Pippin, who smiled his thanks at Sam and turned to open the bedroom door. “That was very kind of you. Tell me, how did you know-”

He was interrupted by a ghastly shriek. Whirling around, Merry saw Pippin standing in a doorway that was filled with fluffy white bubbles. The bubbles were popping and frizzing, and were about to spill over onto Pippin. With a yelp, Merry yanked his cousin out of the way, pulling him back across the corridor. The bubbles cascaded down onto the floor, creating a slimy puddle where Pippin had been standing.

“…having a prank war with Strider?” Merry finished faintly.

Sam was staring at the bubbles, astonished. “I should have thought that was fairly obvious, what with the racket you three have been making. How in the Shire’s name do you suppose he did that?”

The bubbles were oozing into the hall, a pink and white tinted mess that smelled strangely of strawberries. The hobbits retreated further up the hallway, blank with amazement. From the look of it, Merry and Pippin’s room was filled with the stuff. Sam sighed.

“I suppose we’ll be needing a mop,” he said weakly.

“Quite a few mops,” Pippin agreed. He pulled the napkin back and took a bite of the turkey. Seeing the looks on the others faces, he yelped, “What? I always think better with a full stomach! It calms me!”

Sam and Merry sighed. What on earth were they going to do?

“Wow! Would you look at that? He really did it!” The hobbits spun around and stared at Legolas, aghast. Seeing their faces, the elf hastily adjusted his expression. “I mean, how truly heinous of Aragorn to do such a thing. Allow me to call the maids to come clean up this mess.”

Legolas turned around and hurried back towards the dining hall, calling for aid. As one, the hobbits stormed after him.

“Did you have something to do with this?” cried Merry.

Legolas deigned to look affronted. “Me? I assure you, Merry, that I did not help Aragorn fill your room with bubbles. I am not involved with this. Ah, Lord Elrond! Merry and Pippin’s room is full of bubbles.”

Elrond, majestic in his long robes, stared at them all. Serving elves were hurrying past him with mops and buckets to stop the flow of the bubbles, which were already seeping down the hallway. Poor Elrond looked as though he were going to have a fit of some sort.

“Bubbles? How?” he cried, his normal poise somewhat shattered by the sight of the pink bubbles oozing towards them. The hobbits’ replies were lost, though, by the arrival of the Lady Arwen.

“Great Valar! My bath bubbles!” she wailed, her lovely face distraught. “Oh, who did this?!”

“Alas, the world will mourn for the loss of Arwen’s strawberry bubble bath,” Legolas said in a dry voice, smiling sarcastically.

For a moment, Merry thought that Arwen would hit him. She turned such a glower on Legolas that the prince took a step back. The situation, Merry thought rather helplessly, was getting out of control. He idly smacked Pippin’s hand away from his plate and took a bite of his turkey. He needed his wits about him.

“Elflings!” snapped Elrond. “Please, restrain yourselves in front of our guests. My apologies, Meriadoc, Peregrin. I will order a new room for you until yours is cleaned.”

Merry swallowed and attempted to smile. “Thank you, my lord. That’s very kind of you, very kind indeed.”

Elrond nodded at him. “And do you know how this happened? I must say, bubbles seeping out of the guest rooms are not a normal occurrence here.”

How the hobbits managed a three-way glance without seeming too obvious was something that Elrond found amazing. It was Pippin who spoke, slowly and shyly. “I don’t know, sir. Perhaps it was someone unexpected, like…Strider.”

“Aragorn?” Elrond passed a hand over his eyes. It made sense, a terrible amount of it. “All right. Luinil will show you to your new room now. Good night, lads.”

In a swirl of mauve robes, Elrond swept away. Legolas and Arwen followed, snapping at each other in Elvish. Sam, Merry and Pippin stood looking bemused as Luinil approached them. She looked as rueful as they felt.

“If you’ll follow me, young sirs,” she said.

“Of course, lady,” Merry said.

At that moment, Frodo walked into the hallway. Seeing the bubbles seeping from the lads’ room, and the Elves desperately trying to clean them up, he began to snicker.

“Got you, did he? Oh, this is rich! If you need me, I’ll be in the Hall of Fire with Bilbo,” he said. And still snickering, he walked away.

Thoroughly demoralized, Merry and Pippin followed Luinil to their new chamber. Sam left them once he had ascertained its whereabouts, and went to join his master in the Hall. Merry sat on his new bed, mind rapidly sorting ways to get back at Aragorn. The only thing he could come up with on such short notice was very simple, but effective.

“Stay here, Pip, I’ll be back shortly,” he said, jumping up.

Pippin waved from his perch on the sofa. He had no intention of going anywhere for a while.

Merry returned shortly, dusting his hands and looking pleased with himself.

“What did you do?” Pippin asked warily. He knew that look well.

“Not much,” Merry replied, bolting the door. He leaned forward to whisper in Pippin’s ear.

*****

Aragorn kicked off his boots and tossed his tunic onto a chair. He was bone-tired. This evening had turned out to be thoroughly aggravating. First the snake in his bath, then the trouble he had gone through setting up the flood of bubbles, and then avoiding Elrond for the rest of the evening. All of it had taken the strength out of him. It had not helped that Arwen and Legolas had decided to act like children and fight with each other because of strawberry bubbles. They may have known each other for several thousand years, but sometimes they acted younger than he did.

With a sigh of relief, Aragorn climbed between his sheets. Perhaps he would sleep late tomorrow. He never slept late, and he owed it to himself. The hobbits would not be able to do anything to him until tomorrow, anyway.

Opening his eyes suddenly, Aragorn frowned. Or would they? His bed was oddly loose, not at all like it should have been. He sat up and flipped the quilt back, and moaned wretchedly.

There had obviously been a hobbit in his room within the past two hours. And he had untucked all of the sheets from the mattress.

Grumbling colorfully under his breath, Aragorn fixed the sheets. As he climbed back into bed, he consoled himself with the thought that tomorrow was another day, and he was infinitely cleverer than Merry and Pippin.

TBC