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

Author’s Note: Sorry I didn’t reply to the comments you all left me with the last chapter; I’ve been traveling back and forth between the homes of my two older siblings, baby-sitting their children, so my computer time has been limited. I want you all to know that I really appreciate your comments!

Chapter Eleven: Venting

Elrond mixed the tonic carefully, mindful of the ingredients he put in. Anything to make this obnoxious ailment abate, but it would be preferable to have something that would not give him a sleepless night. Mixing the herbs served as a good vent of frustration. The poor plants were crushed beyond recognition.

“They’re going home. All of them,” he said flatly. “And I have half a mind to have Aragorn beaten out of Rivendell for starting this whole affair.”

Gandalf snorted, smoking his pipe as calmly as ever across the room. “He did not start it, and anyway I highly doubt that Aragorn even knows why the hobbits are doing this,” he commented. “I would hazard to guess that he is just as annoyed as you are.”

Elrond drained his tonic, grimacing at the bitterness. “I think that it is high time, my friend, to find out exactly why the younger hobbits are laying Rivendell to ruin. I would also love to know why my daughter is aiding them in tormenting her betrothed.” Pfffft. Elrond sighed and rubbed his temples. Gandalf opened a window.

“I don’t think Arwen is so much getting after Aragorn as she is Legolas. He taunted her strawberry bubble bath, you know.”

“Legolas taunted the bubbles? Well, that settles the question of which Elf belongs in the Fellowship. It will be best for him to get as far from her as possible,” Elrond sighed. At least he had one concern taken care of.

Gandalf’s eyes twinkled. “Very good. I suggest you get some sleep, Elrond. I’ll find out why the hobbits are angry.”

“Very good. And inform Merry and Pippin that they are not going on the Quest.”

“Yes, they are.”

“No, they are not.”

“Yes, they are.”

“No. Emphatically, they are not!” Pfffft.

Gandalf rolled his eyes as he left the room. “Yes, they are.”

*****

Boromir found Aragorn on the balcony outside the Hall of Fire. Isildur’s heir was smoking his pipe and chuckling to himself. Boromir cleared his throat politely, not quite certain yet how to address this man. After the incident with the twine he had a vague idea, but it was best to still be respectful.

“They put farting powder in Elrond’s wine. Not even I would have the courage to do that,” Aragorn remarked, and turned to grin at his future steward. “What did you make of it?”

Boromir stared at him, amazed. “I, er, worry for the young hobbits. I believe they did not intend Lord Elrond to drink it.”

Aragorn nodded, his eyes bright with amusement. “They meant it for me. Cheeky little buggers. We should bring them with us just for the amusement they bring.”

“You’re not angry?” Boromir said, flabbergasted.

Aragorn shook his head. He did not know how to describe his reaction to the hobbits’ latest prank. Amazement, disbelief, and a certain amount of respect for their blatant idiocy were key emotions, as well as a hearty thankfulness that they had gotten the wrong cup. It was too much to put into words, and he settled for a discreet, “It was foolish, but well worth the effort.”

Boromir looked stunned. Aragorn chuckled, clapped the man on the shoulder, and dared to wonder how things would be when they were in Gondor.

*****

“We are most certainly dead. We should never have started this,” Merry moaned, pulling at his hair. He lay on his bed, writhing. “Do you suppose that they will torture us before they kill us, or just throw us off one of the waterfalls?”

Pippin shrugged and didn’t answer. He rather resented Merry’s attack of melodrama; he felt it was his place, as the baby of the family, to be the one with the attack of the vapors.

“In any case, I think it is best if we leave Rivendell under cover of darkness. If we take the Road we can make it to Bree in a fortnight, I think.”

“I won’t allow it,” a voice said from the doorway. Pippin looked up to see Frodo standing there, grinning at them. “You lads are going to stay here and live with the consequences of your actions.”

Merry moaned and rolled over to give Frodo a deeply mournful look. “It was Bilbo’s idea, Frodo. You should get after him for suggesting it. And anyway, I think I’m going to be sick.”

Pippin had had enough. He swooned back, pressing his hand to his forehead. “Oh la, good sir, I feel faint,” he mimicked. Merry hit him with a pillow.

“Anyway,” Frodo said loudly, bringing the burgeoning tussle to a close, “I am here to announce a visitor. Gandalf would like to talk to you both.”

Merry and Pippin froze. Gandalf entered the room, a small smile on his face. “Hullo lads. I have a question for you, if you are not too ill to answer it.” The lads nodded mutely. “Then here it is. Why, exactly, are you playing so many pranks on Aragorn?”

They traded a nervous glance, than Merry spoke slowly. “He, er, took us through the Midgewater Marshes when he really didn’t have to. I found a map in the library that showed a secret Ranger path that cut around the marshes, not through. We were avenging our honor.”

Gandalf’s eyebrows had risen higher with each word, and he shook his head when Merry had finished.

“Oh, dear. Well, thank you for telling me. I’ll leave you alone now,” he said, and went the door There he paused and looked back at them. “And you needn’t worry about death at the hands of the Elves. I daresay that they needed the entertainment.”

Leaving the hobbits to themselves, Gandalf strode down the hall towards the library. There was something concerning a certain map that he had to clarify.

TBC