This is for Lynn H and Periantari, who both wanted something about hobbits and alcohol. What better way to finish this story than a hobbit drinking game?
 
 
 

‘Hobbits really are amazing creatures, as I have said before. You can learn all that there is to know about their ways in a month, and yet after a hundred years they can still surprise you at a pinch.’ ~ The Shadow of the Past, FOTR

Chapter 14 – Closing Time

The hobbits sat under the dim light of the sickle moon in the porch where Frodo first met his cousins after his waking and where the Council of Elrond had been held. The porch looked eastward, but the hobbits ignored that direction in favor of the star-speckled sky overhead. They leaned against the wall, their legs crossed at the ankles in front of them, pipes in their mouths or resting in their hands. The sharp woody fragrance of Old Toby wafted into the air towards the stars. It was their last night in the Last Homely House, and they intended to make the most of it.

“We’ve not much weed left,” Sam commented. “Do you think it’ll last until we get there?” For he did not want to say ‘Mordor’ if he could help it.

“Gandalf said it could take several weeks before we reach our destination,” Frodo said, also wishing to avoid the word. They were all thinking it and that was enough.

“We should ration our supplies then,” Pippin said. “According to Boromir, when soldiers are on the march, they divide the supplies to last over the journey.”

“Pip, that would barely give us enough to cover the bottom of the bowl,” Merry pointed out. “It’s not worth it. We should just smoke it until it’s gone and be done with it.”

“You should have packed more,” Pippin said, accusatorily. “If you had packed more, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“There’s no way I could have known we’d stay here this long,” Merry countered. “It would have lasted to the end had we not been so delayed.”

Pippin shook his head at this. “As the person in charge of supplies, you should have planned for unexpected delays and so provisioned our supplies accordingly.”

“How can I plan for unexpected delays?” Merry asked.

“All delays are unexpected and so you should expect them to be unexpected,” Pippin reasoned.

Merry gave Frodo a pained look. Frodo just shrugged and said, “Don’t look at me; he’s your first cousin.”

“So that’s how it’s going to be, is it?” Merry asked and drew another puff of smoke from his pipe. He blew a circle in Frodo’s direction.

“Strider said I could bring Bill as a pack pony,” Sam spoke up then.

“How is your Bill?” Frodo asked, waving away Merry’s smoke ring. Bill might have been bought by Barliman Butterbur to replace Merry’s lost ponies, but everyone thought of Bill as belonging to Sam.

“He’s the very portrait of health, sir,” Sam boasted, his eyes sparkling with pride. “He’s filled out considerably and his mane and tail even shine in the sun now. The elves here took good care of him and he’s made good friends with the horses. He’ll be sore to leave them, but he’ll feel worse to be left behind.”

His friends smiled; they were accustomed to Sam speaking of Bill as though he were a hobbit.

“At least someone is looking forward to the journey,” Merry said. “This certainly isn’t how I expected Adventuring to be. I know Bilbo had his share of troubles on his quest, but he always made them sound so… fun.”

“Where is Bilbo?” Pippin asked.

“Asleep,” Frodo answered. “He wants to be up early to help us get ready.”

“Which means we’ll have to be up early as well,” Pippin said mournfully, already missing his lost hours of sleep. Not that he planned on sleeping much tonight.

“At least he can sleep,” Sam said then. “I don’t think I could get two winks, unless you knocked me over the head with somewhat heavy.”

They sat quietly, smoking the last of their pipes and gazing at the stars, their traveling cloaks wrapped about them. Glorfindel and the others had been right; the fair weather had lasted only a few days and the air was now frigid and promised to grow chiller still. Merry was just about to suggest they go inside to the warmth of the Hall of Fire, when they heard voices approaching from the hallway.

“Are they out here?” they heard Boromir ask.

“I would recognize that scent anywhere on Middle-earth,” Gandalf said. “They’re here.”

A moment later, the man and wizard, along with Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli, arrived at the porch, and each carried some tankards, and either a cask of ale or bottle of wine. Gimli carried a barrel of rum. The hobbits sprang to their feet and Pippin bounced excitedly. Rum!

“What is this?” Frodo asked, smiling to see the promises of a night-before celebration.

“We noticed you were looking rather glum this morning,” Aragorn said of all the hobbits, “and grew gloomier still as the day faded into night. The Quest weighs heavily on your minds. I asked Bilbo what we might to do help ease you and he said there was nothing better than a pipe and ale for easing a heavy heart.”

“You’ve enjoyed your pipes already,” Legolas said, silently grateful he would not be forced to breathe in those noxious fumes, “but we can enjoy the spirits together.”

“Do Elves get drunk?” Merry asked as he, Sam and Frodo relieved their friends of their tankards. There was a tankard for each of them, and the ale and wine would more than last the night. He wasn’t so sure about the rum, except that he must keep Pippin away from it if at all possible. Already Pippin was inching his way towards Gimli. Merry put out a hand to stay him.

“We do not,” Legolas said.

“Nor do wizards,” Gandalf said, “but we will join you all the same, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Frodo said. They all sat at the table then and Aragorn poured them each a drink of ale.

“But,” Pippin started, staring at the rum.

“No, Pippin,” Frodo and Merry commanded as one.

“But, it’s rum,” Pippin whined. “If I can have ale, I can have rum.” Then he began to sing:

Rum is good
Rum is fine
Rum is better than all this wine
Rum is great
Rum is swell
Rum is a treasure served in Rivendell.

“All right,” Frodo said with a laugh. “You may have some rum, one cup only, at the end of the party.”

“I can!” Pippin exclaimed. “Thank you Frodo! I’ve always said you were my favorite cousin.”

The others chuckled and sipped on their tankards, pacing themselves for a long night.

Gimli smacked his lips and set down his pint. “Do hobbits play any games with their ale?” he asked.

“Oh, we’ve plenty,” Sam said. “There’s your regular competitions: who can drink the most shots without toppling over, or who can drink a tankard the fastest, that sort of thing. Or you can make up just about any rule you want and turn it into a game, like, whenever the innkeeper wipes down his counter, you take a drink, or whenever the door opens, and so on.”

“We have a game in Tuckborough that’s quite popular,” Pippin said. “It’s called I Never.”

“How do you play that?” Legolas asked, wondering, as everyone else was, if the rules to hobbit drinking games were as complicated as their rules for everything else.

“It’s quite simple,” Frodo promised. “For instance, I could say ‘I never burned a batch of biscuits.’ If it’s true, you take a drink. If it’s false, then you don’t drink. The drink can’t be a sip, but a full mouthful. So, since it’s true I never burned biscuits, I will take a drink.”

Merry and Sam also took a drink from their cups.

“What if you never baked biscuits?” Gimli asked.

“Then you still wouldn’t have burnt any,” Sam reasoned, “and it would still be true.”

At this, everyone else took a drink except for Pippin. Merry and Frodo sniggered into their hands while everyone else raised their eyebrows in question.

“It wasn’t by accident,” Pippin defended, then realized that some sort of explanation would be required. “Merry told me that if the biscuits baked long enough, they would explode. When I asked what that meant, Frodo said it was like fireworks. I’d never seen fireworks, so I let them bake longer so they would explode. But it never happened,” he finished lamely and laughed along with everyone else.

“This promises to be an interesting game,” Boromir said. “We can learn much about each other tonight.”

“If you can remember any of it in the morning,” Merry and Pippin noted together.

“I’ll go next,” Sam said. “I never wore boots.” The Big Folk laughed at this but were surprised when Merry didn’t drink with the rest of the hobbits.

“You’ve worn boots?” Legolas asked.

“Not what you would consider boots, but I’ve worn snow shoes and the like,” Merry said. “They’re handy for walking over snow and mud, and we use them from time to time in Buckland when it gets cold enough.”

“And a good thing too,” Sam said, “or I’d likely not be walking at all.”

“How’s that?” Aragorn asked.

“Oh, I went a sprained my ankle once during a snowstorm and got caught up in Bag End*,” Sam said. “Mr. Merry had to go down to fetch Miss Willow to come up and look me over.”

“I never,” Gandalf began and gave a laugh, “fell for or engaged in a hobbit’s prank.”

Now they all laughed, and only Gimli and Aragorn took a swig of their ale. Pippin and Merry looked at Boromir and Legolas curiously, but Frodo was quicker than them. “I’ve never been stung by hornets*.”

Merry and Pippin each made a face, instantly forgetting their curiosity for the time being. They kept their cups on the table along with Gimli and Aragorn, while the others enjoyed a mouthful of ale.

“How were you stung, young Master?” Gimli asked the hobbits.

“Merry insisted on pulling an onion from the ground,” Pippin said, looking at his cousin accusingly yet again.

“You were only stung once!” Merry exclaimed in exasperation. This was clearly a discussion they have had many times before. “I was the one used for a hornet’s pin cushion.”

“What about you, Gimli? Aragorn?” Sam asked.

“I felled the wrong tree,” Gimli said simply.

“And I walked right into a nest,” Aragorn said with a rueful chuckle. “I had just seen Arwen for the first time and wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“I hope she wasn’t there to see it,” Sam said kindly.

“She was not, thankfully. And now it is my turn,” Aragorn said. “I never… got lost in the woods.”

Now everyone drank except for Frodo, Merry and Pippin, and surprisingly Legolas.

“You got lost in Mirkwood, Legolas?” Merry asked.

“Nay, it was a grove near Lake Town,” Legolas said. “I was quite young, only a handful of years, and I had wandered away from my mother’s side. I did find my way out after only a few minutes, but for those minutes I was lost. And you?”

“The Bindbole Wood,” Merry and Pippin answered together. “The hornets,” Pippin added sourly, which Merry wisely ignored this time.

“What about you, Frodo?” Aragorn asked.

“I was fourteen and I had gone into the Old Forest on a dare*,” Frodo said, remembering those bleak days of his youth in the dark and hostile woods. He had never understood how his cousin Saradoc and Uncle Rory found him, but now that he thought on it, he wondered if Tom Bombadil hadn’t rescued him then as well. Why had Tom not mentioned it? Frodo would never know now.

“I never slew an orc,” Boromir said.

Naturally, only the hobbits wet their palates on this one. Afterward Frodo tilted his head at Sam, a small smirk on his lips.

“Don’t I recall reading one of your essays for Bilbo about you and your friends hunting orcs?” Frodo said.

Sam chuckled softly. “Aye, sir, but that was just for pretend*. My friends Tom Cotton, Robin Smallburrows and I were out camping in Robin’s yard one night, and I got it in my head as we should go hunting. So we hid the food and I said as we should pretend the food were goblins.”

“And did you catch them all?” Boromir asked.

“We did at that,” Sam confirmed.

“I never withdrew from a fight,” Legolas said.

“Define fight,” Merry said.

“Any confrontation would suffice,” Legolas replied.

“Then in that case,” said Gandalf with a wink and left his mug in its place along with everyone else.

“Even you, Gandalf?” Sam asked.

“Even I, Samwise,” Gandalf said. “It is a foolish person indeed who does not recognize when he’s been outmatched. Foolish, and soon to be no more. There is something though that I have never done. I have never kissed a pretty lass.”

“Have you kissed an ugly one?” Pippin asked, too intent on Gandalf to notice that only Legolas joined the wizard in his drink. At Pippin’s question, Legolas coughed on his ale in an attempt not to spit it out with his laughter. Aragorn and Merry promptly patted the elf on his back. Meanwhile, Boromir poured more brew to those who needed it

Gandalf lowered his tankard and eyed Pippin sharply. “There is no such thing as an ugly lass, Peregrin Took.”

“You’ve never met Lila Thistle,” Pippin returned. “She’s the daughter of Mr. Thistle, who runs the novelty shop in Bywater. You’d almost mistake her for a pock-faced lad if it weren’t for her exceptionally large br—”

Merry and Frodo each elbowed Pippin in the ribs. “That’s enough of that, Pippin,” Frodo said warningly.

“Oh, you’re just upset because Mr. Thistle keeps wanting you to marry her,” Pippin said. “He even made you dance with her on her twenty-fifth birthday, and you had to kiss her.”

“I never kissed Lila Thistle,” Frodo said.

“See! You did too! You didn’t drink!” Pippin said.

Frodo quickly took a swig along with everyone else, then narrowed his eyes at Pippin. “At least I never asked a lad to dance.”

Pippin gaped at Frodo and blushed scarlet as he alone kept his mouth dry. Pippin spluttered a defense. “It was late! He looked like a lass!”

“Wearing breeches?”

“He had a lass’s name!” Pippin said. “Who names a lad Ginger? Seriously!”

“That was his nickname for having red hair. And you would have realized he was a lad if you weren’t drunk out of your senses,” Merry added.

“At least I never got so drunk I ended up in a frock*,” Pippin shot back and drank in triumph as Merry, Frodo and Sam sat is disbelief at this betrayal. The others exchanged glances over their mugs. Aragorn filled everyone’s tankards and joined the others in staring at the hobbits in curiosity.

“Now that just ain’t proper, Mr. Pippin,” Sam said. He had been sitting back enjoying the exchange until now, but Pippin had inadvertently involved him. “That’s a tradition, and you know it.”

“And at least we never walked through half of Tuckborough with a pigeon painted on our faces*,” Merry said and grinned smugly as everyone but Pippin again raised their ales for a drink.

The others sat back at this point and watched the spectacle with growing amusement. Gimli leaned over the table and whispered to Boromir, “Are we still playing?”

“I’m not sure,” Boromir answered, and even Aragorn shook his head. Someone really should put a stop to this, but none of them wanted to interrupt either, lest the hobbits’ wrath turn on him next.

Meanwhile, the hobbits were continuing their bickering. “And you shouldn’t be going on about frocks either, Mr. Pippin,” Sam said. “At least I never let my sisters use me for modeling their dresses.”

Now Pippin was incensed, but Merry and Frodo roared with laughter, forgetting to drink with the others as Pippin gaped in his embarrassment. “That was told to you in confidence!” Pippin said. “You’re the only one with sisters to understand!”

“Tit for tat, Mr. Pippin,” Sam said.

“Is that so? Well, I never… never…” Pippin said, stalling. “That’s not fair that we don’t know any embarrassing stories about you!”

“I’d say it’s a blessing, begging your pardon,” Sam replied.

There was a brief pause while the hobbits silently stewed. Aragorn shrugged and began to say, “Well, I never,” only to be put cut off as Pippin jumped up and shouted in triumph.

“Ha!” he exclaimed. “I never poisoned anyone’s drinks!” Everyone quickly raised their mugs at this one. Legolas took a turn in topping off everyone’s tankards.

“I never poisoned no one’s drinks,” Sam replied, looking hurt.

“You put something in Merry’s and mine drinks that one time*,” Pippin said. “Remember, Merry?”

Merry nodded. “Yes, what was that anyway?”

“Just a bit of pressed garlic,” Sam said.

“Sam!” Frodo said as everyone gaped at the gardener. “When was this?”

“That time Mr. Merry set the Hill afire.”

“I never set fire to that Hill. Technically, that was you,” Merry replied.

“Only ‘cause I didn’t know you went pouring all that fortified wine on the wood,” Sam said.

“How was I supposed to know that would happen?”

“Anyone with common sense would know that would happen.”

“Are you saying I don’t have common sense?”

“I never said that.”

But he didn’t drink and no one was certain if this was a false statement or if Sam had merely forgotten what to do. Frodo though happily tapped his mug on the table, bringing it no where near his lips, while Pippin grinned and took a mighty swig. Meanwhile, the others decided it would be best to cease drinking while they could still control their senses.

“Do you suppose this always happens when they play this game?” Legolas asked.

“Oh, it’s one of the reasons they play it,” Gandalf said. “It allows them to get their frustrations out and in the morning all is forgiven, for none of it is remembered.”

“You knew this would happen and you didn’t warn us?” Boromir asked.

“The purpose of this gathering was to take the hobbits’ minds off their worries,” Gandalf returned. “I’d say our distraction is quite successful.”

“As well as entertaining,” Gimli said, watching the quickly-growing melee amongst the hobbits with amusement. This was more like the drinking games he was accustomed to at home, only by this point, there’d be brawling and chair-throwing.

“I was never constipated!” Frodo suddenly shouted, bringing the rest of the Fellowship’s attention back to the abandoned game. “That was a cruel lie you made up*!”

“Maybe so, but you still didn’t have to lock Pippin and me up in the bath and keep us from our dinner,” Merry said.

“Be glad I let you eat at all,” Frodo said. “I’ve never done anything so cruel to you, Merry.”

“You convinced me to streak through Brandy Hall’s annual Summer Feast*!” Merry replied.

“You were six,” Frodo said.

“Yes, well… I never lost my virginity to Posy Goold in the middle of Brandy Hall’s gardens*!”

Frodo flushed scarlet. “Things did not go even remotely that far.”

“Well, no, you’d have been married long ago if they had,” Merry admitted. “But you still went well beyond petticoats.”

“Mr. Frodo,” Sam admonished.

“We did not,” Frodo insisted.

“I was there, I saw everything,” Merry returned.

“You were spying?”

“Naturally.”

“How exactly do you lose your virginity? That doesn’t seem like something that can be misplaced,” Pippin said.

“You’re not old enough to know that yet,” Merry replied.

“Then why are you talking about it in front of me? Why am I not old enough yet?”

“Oh please, Pippin, you would still think there are necromancers living in Great Smials if Pervinca and I didn’t explain it to you*,” Merry replied.

“I would not! I know the difference, Merry,” Pippin insisted. “Just like I know what happened with you and Estella that day at the River! I heard Vinca and Estella talk about it once. Estella was leaning all against you while she was dressing*!”

“You know perfectly well I had my eyes closed!” Merry said, now his turn to blush.

“I know you had your hand over my eyes. You could have peeked,” Pippin returned.

“I never peeked at any lass,” Merry insisted, insulted. “That’s not proper and you know it, Peregrin Took.”

“No more proper than waking up naked next to a pig in a compromising position,” Pippin returned. “I know what a compromising position is!”

“Merry!” Frodo exclaimed.

“You weren’t supposed to mention that to anyone!” Merry said to Pippin, ignoring Frodo. “I was drunk and so not accountable for my actions! I was not naked! And there was no pig in that sty! Who told you that?”

“I’m sorry, but I must be too young to remember that,” Pippin returned pointedly.

“Well at least I never mooned the Aunts in front of all of Tookland*,” Merry returned.

“I never smeared pony dung on Grandmother Menegilda’s skirts,” Pippin said.

“I never had no rum afore,” Sam said.

“Oh! Rum!” Pippin said.

“No!” Merry and Frodo said.

“Why not?” Pippin asked.

“It’ll give you nightmares,” Merry said.

“Which means as he’ll be sleeping,” Sam pointed out.

Frodo and Merry exchanged quick looks. “Pour out the rum, Gimli,” Frodo said, and Pippin couldn’t decide whether to scowl or be cheerful, his face contorting in such an odd way that everyone there laughed to see it.

“Aye,” Gimli said and popped the cork out of the barrel. He waited for everyone to drain their tankards, then poured out the rum in equal measures to all. He raised his cup and said a toast, “To the Ring-bearer and his Company. May our feet not fail us on our long journey. May our hearts endure through all darkness. May our friendship guide us past treacherous obstacles. May our humor prevail so we don’t strangle each other in the attempt.”

“Here, here,” Boromir and Aragorn agreed. “Indeed,” said Gandalf. “Well put,” Legolas admitted. “To your health,” the hobbits chimed.

They tossed their heads back and drank deep. For all of three seconds. Then the harsh liquor made it’s full effects known, and those who were not expecting it instantly spit it out again. Pippin even grabbed his throat, his eyes watering as he coughed and gasped. “It burns!” he complained.

“That gives a kick, and no mistake,” Sam said, recovering faster than the others.

Legolas took a more cautious sip. “It’s better in small sips,” he announced and everyone sipped at their cups until the rum was gone. Then Pippin attempted to sing again.

Rum ith goob
Rum ith fine
Rum ith bestest than all thith wine
Rum ith gweat
Rum ith thwell
Rum ith a tweathure therbed in Wiberdell.

“I dob’t dow,” Pippin said, his words slurring. “I dob’t think it’th all tat thtwong weally,” he stated, then promptly slumped forward, asleep before his head hit the table.

“Well, I never done that afore,” Sam said and he, Frodo and Merry giggled helplessly.

“All right lads,” came Elrond’s voice suddenly behind them. He stood in the doorway in his sleeping robe, looking more than a little bemused; his rooms were right above the porch. “You don’t have to go to your rooms, but you can’t stay here.”

“Elrond!” Merry said in greeting. He raised a mug towards the elf-lord. “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask. Don’t you have any breeches?”

“Gandalf,” Elrond warned.

“I’ll get them to their rooms. They will not stay awake much longer as it is,” Gandalf promised.

“What mean do you?” Frodo asked. “Fine I feel.” He poured more rum for himself, Merry and Sam.

The hobbits sipped at their mugs all the way back to their rooms. Boromir carried Pippin, who was drooling on the soldier’s tunic, while Legolas, Gandalf, Gimli and Aragorn helped guide the others, catching them if they stumbled and retrieving them if they began heading in the wrong direction. At last, they got the hobbits to their rooms and settled in their beds, each protesting that they felt just fine and not the least bit tired. Their contented snores just minutes later belied their protests.

Frodo was the last to be tucked in. Gandalf closed his bedroom door quietly behind him and the remaining members of the Fellowship slowly made their way back to the porch to clean up.

“Well, that was an enlightening experience,” Gimli said after a time.

“Indeed,” Legolas agreed with the dwarf without thought. “And we have the pleasure of their company for many more weeks yet to come.”

“At least we’ll be well entertained,” Aragorn said.

“Should we risk asking for the full stories behind those anecdotes?” Boromir asked.

“Go not to a hobbit for a short story, lest you have all day to listen to it,” Gandalf said.

“Which we will,” Legolas said. “Have all day. Do you think there really was a pig in that sty?”

“I think it would be best if we never find out,” Aragorn said with a yawn.

They made quick work of cleaning up and soon turned into bed themselves. After all, they had to be up early in the morning; they had an Adventure ahead of them which promised to be much more interesting than it had just an hour earlier.

~*~

A single bell rang clear and solemn into the predawn air the following morning. Gandalf stopped by the hobbits rooms and found each of them up and dressed, looking glum and tired and more than a bit worse for wear. Merry was helping Pippin gather his things from the various corners, nooks and crannies of his room.

“What hit me last night?” Pippin muttered.

“Nothing hit you, Pip,” Merry said pointedly, “just the rum.”

“Oh! Rum!” Pippin exclaimed, looking up excitedly. His excitement didn’t last long as the quick motion reminded him of his pounding head. “Ow. Rum.”

Gandalf raised his bushy eyebrows and handed a wooden flask to Pippin. “A morning-after tonic to help clear your head,” he said. Pippin took it gratefully but Merry declined. “Are you certain, Meriadoc?”

“Some fresh air and short jot will be all the head-clearing I require,” Merry assured and went back to rooting under the bed for Pippin’s scarf.

Across the hall, Sam and Frodo were doing no better. “This must be what wool feels like,” Frodo said, holding his head gingerly in his hands as he sat at the foot on his bed. He was accustomed to the occasional glass of wine, drinking ale only when he had company and they enjoyed dinner at the inn.

“Nay, you were still a few mugs away from wool, Mr. Frodo,” Sam informed, wringing out a rag to place on Frodo’s pounding brow. Sam seemed to be unaffected by the alcohol, but Gandalf knew the sturdy hobbit could easily be hiding his discomfort.

“I brought some medicine for what ails you,” Gandalf announced and Frodo smiled wanly. Gandalf handed them each a small flask. Sam put his aside for later; his head was more uncomfortable than anything else and he figured a good round meal would do him better. Still, he would have the tonic along with breakfast for good measure. Frodo didn’t wait though and cautioned a small sip. “Drink it all. And Frodo, don’t forget that Bilbo wishes to see you after breakfast.”

“Thank you, Gandalf,” Frodo replied and Sam nodded in agreement.

Gandalf then went to Legolas’s room but was not surprised to see the wood elf had already risen and gone from his chambers. He was surprised though to see one of the library’s missing art books on the corner of the bed.

Next he visited Gimli and found the dwarf yawning and stretching, but otherwise awake and clearheaded. A single mug of the dwarf’s own heady brew would not be enough to affect him, and even if the ale had put him over the edge, he would never admit it.

He found Boromir on his hands and knees peering under his bed and muttering what sounded like, “Where is that dratted book?” and “Now what did Pippin do with my Horn?”

“May sober heads prevail,” Gandalf said and handed the tall Gondorian a flask of the morning-after tonic. “Drink up. Breakfast is in five minutes.”

“If I even look at food, I will be ill,” Boromir stated as he took the flask.

“Then all the more reason to drink it,” Gandalf said. “You must have food before we set off tonight. We will march many hours before we stop for our morning meal.”

“But what about the hobbits?” Boromir asked, wondering what would happen to hung-over hobbits forced to march all night while deprived of food and sleep. He shuddered to think it.

“You will find they are excellent foragers, and will be able to keep their stomachs content enough between meals, if not as full as they’d like them to be,” Gandalf replied.

The wizard lastly sought out Aragorn. The ranger was up and dressed and ready for the long day ahead, but his brow was tight with pain and his fingers were massaging his temples fruitlessly. Gandalf handed him the last flask. Aragorn took a long drink and tucked the flask into his belt.

“Breakfast in three minutes,” Gandalf advised.

Aragorn nodded. “Thank you.”

Gandalf turned and walked down the passages to the dining hall. He was passing through the courtyard on the furthest side of the house when he heard a rustling in the trees overhead. He looked up just in time to catch the wood elf dropping from the lowest bough to the needle-covered ground below, a long cloth-covered sack in his hands. Gandalf raised his eyebrows at the elf.

“Don’t ask,” Legolas advised and went into the house.

Gandalf chuckled to himself. Yes, this would be an interesting journey indeed.
 
 
 

To be concluded…
 
 
 

GF 8/2/08
 
 
 
 
 

A/N – There are references in this chapter to fourteen of my other stories, each designated by an asterisk (*). Whoever can identify at least seven will win a ficlet of their choice. If you can name all of the stories referred to in this chapter, you get a short story. One story has been identified in a previous chapter already, and one reference applies to two different stories.

Enter your guesses here. Entries will be screened.

Good luck!