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

Author’s Note: Sorry once again about the long time with no updating. This as been percolating for a while, but I was only just able to sit down and write it last night. I hope you all enjoy it!

Chapter Fourteen: Of Smallclothes

Item: two pairs of hobbit smallclothes. Item: one large bowl of raw meat pilfered from the kitchens. Item: one large fan pinched from the library. Item: Elladan and Elrohir’s dogs. Aragorn chuckled to himself as he set to work. This was going to be so very, very rich.

*****

Legolas awoke with a dull throbbing in his head. He groaned, passing a hand over his eyes; the room was far too bright for his liking. He dimly heard someone get up and close the curtains, and mentally thanked that person for their kindness. His relief turned to despair, however, when the person spoke.

“How do you feel this fine morning, Legolas?” Arwen asked, a smile in her voice.

Legolas groaned pathetically, opening one eye to stare at her. She looked the very picture of radiance, and he hated her for it.

“What happened?” he moaned. “My head…”

“Will be quite all right once you’ve drunk this tonic,” Arwen replied. She seemed to be repressing laughter. “Legolas, you smoked the hobbits’ pipeweed. Don’t you know better?”

Legolas moaned again, remembering the words of the healers at home. How could he have forgotten? Snippets of the night before were floating back to him now, the sharpest being bouncing on Aragorn’s bed and running into the walls. How utterly humiliating.

“I think, though, that we must come to a truce,” Arwen continued, ignoring his moans of embarrassment. “Your own stupidity has done far more for you than any trick of my devising. Friends?”

She held out her hand; Legolas stared at it in consternation. She was giving in too easily, though he had to admit that Arwen had a point. And he was tired of being the bubble bath bandit.

He put his hand in hers and they shook firmly. “Friends,” he said, grinning weakly.

*****

Merry and Pippin left Boromir after breakfast. Lady Arwen had joined them, and informed them that Legolas was fully recovered and doing well. Aragorn was nowhere to be found, but they decided to brave returning to their room. After all, one could only go so long without bathing and a fresh change of clothes.

They found their clothes laid out for them on their bed. Well, that wasn’t so odd, Merry thought. The maids here were very good about making their guests comfortable. As soon as he had completed his ablutions, he wasted no time in pulling the clothes on.

Pippin, however, looked at the clothes in consternation. Something was not right about this, he thought. Their clothes were normally laid out for them in the morning, he had to concede that point, but they were usually folded up on the chair, not the bed. Still, he reasoned, if Merry thought it was safe, it must be.

“I think we need a treat, Pip,” Merry said as he buttoned his waistcoat. “Let’s go down to the stable and visit Bill. I daresay the old pony would like to see his friends.”

Pippin nodded. “We’ll have to stop by the kitchens for some apples,” he said. “And some sugar. And perhaps a pastry, for me.”

Merry nodded, grinning. If nothing had happened so far this morning-no buckets of water poured on them, no strawberry bubbles drenching their room-than maybe Aragorn had realized that what they had done to Legolas had been an accident. He hoped so, anyway.

After a quick detour to the kitchens, Merry and Pippin walked out towards the stables. It was a beautiful morning, slightly chilly but clear-skied, and a soft wind whistled through the trees. All was peaceful. Merry smiled, silently congratulating himself on dodging any of Aragorn’s tricks. It never crossed his mind that he was, perhaps, wearing one.

When they saw the first dog, neither Merry nor Pippin was much alarmed. They had met the dogs of Rivendell before, and quite liked the beasts. The dog nosed their trousers, snuffling eagerly, and ignored the sugar cube Pippin held out to him. None of this was cause for alarm, though, and they kept walking.

When a second dog joined them, however, and then a third and fourth, they began to worry. All the dogs were obsessively sniffing their trousers, and it was becoming alarming.

“Er, Merry,” said Pippin. “What do we do now?”

Merry hesitated, looking around. Two more dogs were coming towards them. The ones around them were beginning to pus them around, making soft whuffing noises, like animals that had found something good to eat. He had the sinking feeling that Aragorn had gotten them, after all.

“Pippin,” he said, “When I say ‘three’, run as fast as you can back towards the house.”

*****

Two high, hobbity shrieks and the baying of a pack of hounds brought Boromir to the library balcony at a run. Aragorn was there already, leaning over, shaking with some sort of emotion. Boromir skidded to a halt, sliding the last few feet on the smooth marble floor, and peered over the edge of the balcony at the scene below.

“Good morning, Boromir,” Aragorn remarked, his tone oddly calm, though his eyes were dancing. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

Boromir looked down. Merry and Pippin were sprinting headlong towards the house, a pack of yapping dogs following them. The hobbits were moving fast, but the dogs, being larger, were gaining on them. All at once, one leapt forward and caught Pippin by the seat of his trousers. The animal then proceeded to try and tear the trousers off of the unfortunate hobbit, shaking him like a rag doll while the hobbit shrieked and howled for help.

At a shout, however, the dogs fell back. Several of the grooms were running towards them, waving rakes and bellowing in elvish. Reluctantly, the dogs fell back and allowed the hobbits to escape into the house. As they passed, Boromir noticed that both lads were missing the seats of their trousers.

“Well, that was entertaining,” Aragorn remarked jovially. “I daresay that will teach them not to pull anymore pranks.”

Boromir stared at him, open-mouthed. “I-you-what was that?”

Aragorn gave him an enigmatic smile. “Oh, it was simple. It was just-”

“Young man!” bellowed a voice. Aragorn and Boromir turned to see Gandalf storming towards them, looking thoroughly put out. He stormed up to Aragorn and seized him by the ear. “Follow me, lad, you have much explaining to do. What were you thinking, setting the dogs on those two poor hobbits?”

Boromir watched, utterly flummoxed, as Gandalf hauled the King of Men off the balcony, hardly listening to his protests that Merry and Pippin were hardly innocent.

*****

“You soaked their smallclothes in meat,” Gandalf stated, folding his arms and glowering across Elrond’s desk at Aragorn. “That is just wrong. Funny, yes, but wrong. Why?”

Aragorn glowered back at Gandalf, using his sternest look. Grown men had quailed under that glare. It had no effect whatsoever on the wizard.

“They deserved it,” he stated. “You saw what they did to Legolas.”

Gandalf rolled his eyes. “That is besides the point, Aragorn. If Legolas was foolish enough to disregard centuries worth of warnings against the elvish use of pipeweed, than he deserved what he got. You must apologize to the hobbits. Their trousers are ruined.”

Aragorn could not repress a snicker at that, but he met Gandalf’s eyes and said succinctly, “No.”

They glowered at each other for several more moments, than Gandalf sighed. “You’re all being very childish. If it wasn’t so vastly amusing I would be annoyed. I suppose I’ll have to talk with you lot after lunch. The hobbits should have their wits about them again by then. Off with you, Aragorn, and don’t do anything foolish. You have incurred the wrath of a Brandybuck and a Took. Watch your back.”

Aragorn left Elrond’s study with a smug grin on his face. There was nothing that the hobbits could do that would ever top this.

TBC