The Hunting Trip

Chapter One: Revelry and Song

"And now we must celebrate!"

A raucous laugh tumbled out of the mouth of the red-bearded dwarf. Gimli was in an especially merry mood on this day, as was right. He should be! It was a day to be remembered in Minas Tirith, and Gimli and several other dwarves from the Glittering Caves were the heroes of the city.

The streets were alive with revelry and festival. Parades had lined the main roads in the early hours and the palace guard and an entourage of royal officials had made the procession to the foot of the city. At the main gates had stood the Dedication, and Gimli had given the Honors of Presentation to the fair Queen Arwen. The point of focus for all to behold was the last, and the greatest, of all the gifts the Dwarves had bestowed upon Minas Tirith. A new gate was unveiled, and nothing like it had ever graced the City of Kings prior.

Shining in mithril and other precious metals, it was a treasure that raised the level of beauty of an already lovely city. Flower petals had rained down on the heads of all who beheld it, and a roar of applause echoed through the cities streets. Gimli's name could be heard on the lips of all the attendants and rumors and gossip about the king's long friendship with the diminutive leader abounded. Nearly everyone wanted to see him, to shake his hand, to be where he was, to call him 'friend'. He was favored by the crown, and he was their cause of celebration. Gimli was a very popular dwarf in Minas Tirith.

Parties crisscrossed alleyways and lanes throughout the various levels of the great white city. Street vendors hawked confections for nearly every taste, and minstrels and puppeteers entertained all-comers for the offering of a few copper coins. Women wore their prettiest frocks and tied their hair back with ribbons and flowers and the men went so far as to bathe and to trim their scruffy faces. Children played freely without fear of retribution and throughout the city, laughter and merriment were heard from all houses. Except for the countless days of celebration at the marriage of Elessar and Arwen, a better time in the towering city could not be recalled by any. The King had proclaimed the event at the gates a holiday to all, and the citizens reveled in their joy.

Patting his belly from the fullness and contentment it had partaken at the King's table, Gimli clapped his other hand on the back of his companion. A look of such glee filled his eyes, and anyone who looked upon him could tell the dwarf had never been happier.

"I know just the place to go! I have been saving this one up for the next time you would join me here, and I can think of no finer occasion than this to enjoy it!" the dwarf said as he led his guest through the city streets and down a narrower roadway. As they passed, observers would stop and curtsy or bow as the dwarf made his way. And in turn Gimli would nod and smile at each one, letting their honors add to his mood.

Legolas laughed. "I do not think I have seen you so pleased with yourself, Gimli! You act like a dwarf wallowing in mithril. You are enjoying this with immense pleasure."

Gimli chuckled loudly. "Of course I am! Look at how well they treat me," he said as a small girl ran up to him and presented him with a flower and a sweet smile. Gimli smiled at her in return and said, "Who would not enjoy such attention?"

The elf smirked. Not I, he thought. He did not care much for the city, and it was only his friends' presence that drew him there. When he had first come to Minas Tirith, he had been seen as a curiosity among men. That had been more than twelve years ago, and despite Arwen's role as their Queen, he still felt at times that he was an object upon which to be gawked. It was not true, he knew, and he reprimanded himself for feeling such, chalking up this emotion to his cloistered life in the forests. He was not overly fond of cities, and he did what he could to be in and out of them as swiftly as he could. Throngs of men grated on his serenity, and he often found himself seeking refuge in the quieter places there were to be found there. The unwarranted attention of big city centers did not appeal to him. And so in his past visits, he had felt it was enough that he do his job as best he could, and then leave. He did not need praise to boost his ego. The silly attentions played by men on acts of gratitude did little for Legolas. Even among his own people, Legolas shied away from grand gestures of this type. All he ever asked for, or expected, when a gift was offered, was a heartfelt thanks, or a like kindness done in return. Anything more was overdone in his mind, and he would rather avoid being cause for such unneeded attention. In answer to the dwarf, he said, "I am just glad no one tried to hold a celebration for my sake when my kindred and I brought trees to this city in those first years after the war. The humiliation would have driven me away for good."

Gimli snorted, "Trees! As if that would be cause for celebration…"

Looking slightly hurt, Legolas said, "Arwen seemed to appreciate them."

"She was probably just being polite. But, stop that brooding sulk. I am teasing you, friend! Your gesture added beauty to the city, and I know it has not gone unnoticed. Fortunately, Elessar knows you well. He would not suffer your stoic nature to this unabashed merriment. It is not fitting for you. And I am glad he has done this, for you have not been chased away and this day would not be nearly as merry if you were not here to celebrate it with me! There are many differences between you and I, elf. I am only too happy to be the recipient of this. My dwarves and I have labored many years to accomplish this task and it is a nice reward to be honored for it in the end," he said as he waved to passers who stopped to point in his direction.

"It is a beautiful gate, Gimli," Legolas agreed. "Three years in the making and another eight in the mining of the ores…It is a very generous gift!"

Stopping before the door of the establishment of their intent, Gimli pulled the elf aside, and looking suspiciously about said, "Perhaps not everything harvested in those years went to the gate. We did keep some of the treasure as reward for our toils."

Legolas laughed, "I would expect no less from a dwarf!"

Growing defensive, Gimli placed his hands on his hips and blustered, "We did not keep that much! No one will accuse me of not being generous!"

Legolas laughed even harder. "Hardly, Gimli! If anything, I would say you are the least greedy dwarf I have ever come to know!"

Gimli pursed his lips with a look of annoyance and said, "I am the only dwarf you have ever come to know!"

"Exactly!" said Legolas as he walked through the doorway.

The inn was alive with activity and Legolas felt himself cringe at the close confines of the place. There were too many people here, he thought, and he felt instantly grimy in this dark noisy room. He supposed he should not have expected more. He could tell the dark confines of the space held appeal to the dwarf. For Legolas, it was abhorrent. Bodies brushed against bodies in the hectic atmosphere. But even in the chaos, Gimli's presence was noticed. The barkeep roared a hail of welcome to the dwarf as he pushed two patrons out of their seats at a table on the far side of the room. Running a dirty cloth over the bench, he motioned for Gimli and the elf to take a place in the now empty chairs. Gimli laughed aloud, looking quite at home in the loud, smoke-filled room, while Legolas followed the dwarf with trepidation, wondering what he had got himself into.

"So delighted you could make it, ands on this night in particular! Thought certain his majesty would have you wrapped up in some big brew up there at the palace," the jovial barkeep twanged with obvious familiarity.

"Aye, he did. But we managed to escape all the same," the dwarf said with a wink and a smile. "Besides, I promised to show my friend here some of the finer establishments within Minas Tirith."

"And since they were all closed, you brought him here instead!" the barkeep said, laughing and slapping the elf on the back. Legolas jumped back at the unexpected contact.

"Merris Thalbuck is my name. Glad to make your acquaintance," he said wiping his hands on the dirty cloth before proffering one to the elf in greeting, "though most of my patrons just call me Mal."

With a slight grimace, Legolas put his own hand into Mal's to return the greeting. Mal's strong grip shook the elf's hand fiercely, then he quickly stretched an arm about the elf's shoulder and tugged Legolas into his barrel chest. "Friends of Gimli's is friends of mine. Welcome to The Sleeping Dragon" he said. Legolas rolled his eyes to that, understanding now what had initially attracted the dwarf to this place as he fought back the embrace of the innkeeper. Not noticing Legolas' discomfort, the barkeep went on, "Can't say I caught your name. What do they call you?"

"Legolas," the elf answered.

The noise in the room was deafening and easily muffled Legolas' gentle voice, "Say again," said Mal, pointing to his ear as if to indicate he had not heard.

"Legolas!" the elf said in a much louder voice, directing it now to Mal's exposed ear.

"Ah, Legless. Yes! Unusual name, that. No matter. Take a seat, gents," he said pushing the dwarf and elf both into their chairs.

"Legolas!" the elf offered once again, but the noise in the room made it impossible for the barkeep to tell what he was saying. Mal woodenly nodded but did not correct himself, and with resignation Legolas shrugged. Gimli snorted.

"So, what libations can I bring you gents?" Mal said looking from one to the next, now taking a professional stance.

"A tankard of ale for myself," Gimli said with a broad gesture.

"Mulled wine, please," the elf said politely.

Mal frowned and Gimli quickly leaned into the elf to remand the drink order. "Legolas, could you not order something better then that? We are celebrating this night, let us not forget. A headier beverage would be more fitting, if you will."

Mal offered in turn, "Sir, you should know this house has the best of all spirits in the lands. People've been known to comes from all parts to partake in the drink we have here. Ask of anything and it will be done."

Legolas drew back with a look of disgust, "I cannot and will not drink ale, Gimli. While you enjoy it just the smell of it sickens me." Turning his eyes back to Mal, he said, "Some mead then," hoping that would appease the situation.

Gimli eyed Mal and gave a small shake of his head. The barkeep read the gesture and said, "'haps I'll come back when you've discussed the matter amongst yourselves." Sighing and shaking his head, Mal disappeared into the crowd instantly.

"Legolas!" the dwarf said with gritted teeth.

"Gimli!" the elf responded, also gritting his teeth.

"Why must you be so stubborn? Could you not just lighten your standards for one evening? I mean to enjoy myself, but you are not aiding me!" the dwarf said with flaring eyes.

"What would you have me be? I do not like it here – it is too confining – and I do not care for the distilled spirits of your like. So, if I must participate in this, allow me to do so with some comfort," Legolas said haughtily.

Gimli huffed his disdain, then drawing his breath he said, "Sometimes you act so priggish!"

Legolas stiffened. Priggish! He did not like that word, but could think not how to respond to it. Smoldering, yet resigned to make the best of a bad situation, Legolas said darkly, "What might you suggest, dwarf."

The bright look on Gimli's face came suddenly, and had Legolas reflected on it long, he might have thought he had been set up for some ill will. But Gimli's smile seemed genuine, and the elf did not want to believe the dwarf would have malevolent intent. Gimli smiled brightly and said, "I think I know what to do." And before Legolas could ask further questions, the dwarf had removed himself from the table and was giving orders to Mal at the serving area.

A roar of boon laughter settled over Gimli and the patrons at the bar, and Legolas could see the dwarf's merry disposition restored. His mood lifting in return, Legolas tried to eye what was occurring at the counter. He cringed when he saw a particularly large tankard pushed forward toward the dwarf. But Gimli did not part, and Legolas grew more curious as he saw Mal pouring and whirling mysterious beakers behind the work surface. With a flourish, Mal poured the concoction into a small pewter mug which he gently lifted and placed before the dwarf.

Smiling as he returned, Gimli artfully presented the cup to his companion as he pushed himself down into his chair. The dwarf looked most pleased.

Legolas eyed the drink suspiciously. He could only wonder what kind of toxic creation the dwarf had contrived for him…and what dirty utensils Mal had wielded in its make. He sniffed. To his surprise, he beheld an aroma of fruit and honey. Blinking at this discovery, he placed his fingers on the cup. Startled to find it warm to the touch, he looked up inquisitively at Gimli. The dwarf smiled broadly, eager to see if his guess had been correct. "Go on, go on," he urged the elf, gesturing for him to taste the drink.

Legolas lifted the cup to his lips and took a tentative sip. To his relief and pleasure, he was greeted by a flavor of sweetness that delighted him, and the warmth of the drink drew heat nicely at the back of his throat as it slid its way down. Smiling his approval, he took a larger sip, warming himself with the liquid as it worked its way to his stomach. Looking again at the dwarf, he said, "What is in this drink? It is quite good."

Pleased and feeling boastful for accomplishing the unthinkable, the dwarf said, "Only natural ingredients I assure you, friend. But be careful. It is rather potent."

"Not to worry, Gimli," Legolas said as he took another taste, much longer this time. "I am an elf and elves have greater tolerance to mortal libation." Then he took a long swallow and drained the cup on the spot. Raising the empty receptacle to the barkeep, he caught Mal's eye and indicated his desire for another. Mal nodded and smiled.

Another figure sidled up to the table surprising the pair of mismatched comrades with his sudden appearance. Looking up, Legolas was pleased to see Faramir joining them. Clapping a hand on each of their backs, the Prince of Ithilien greeted them both with a beaming grin as he then snared a chair from a neighboring table and proceeded to join them.

"Faramir, what brings you here?" Legolas asked with delight.

The sandy-haired steward shrugged and smiled, "I saw you two leave the palace festivities, and I suspected Gimli might want to drag you to some of his favorite haunts. It did not take long to find you here. I thought I might join you."

"Welcome, Sire! Welcome!" came the hearty call of Mal as he placed Legolas' drink on the table and bowed deeply in his recognition of Faramir.

Faramir laughed at the large figure scraping before him. He said, "Arise fair innkeeper! There are too many bellies to be filled tonight for you to give special treatment and gesture to my likes. Bring me a pint of ale and be done with this!"

Mal rose with a smile, and backed away into the crowd, whispering and adding to the rumor of the room as he disappeared into the throng.

"Is that–?" Faramir looked and pointed at Legolas' drink, lifting and smelling the cup with Legolas' nod to do so. "Is that what I think it is?" he asked the dwarf. Gimli nodded. The Steward let out a low whistle and said, "Smells wonderful– but too powerful for my blood. I think I will stay with my ale," he said, cocking a brow at Legolas, as if the elf had been promoted to a place of greater respect.

The elf ignored the implications about his beverage and turned his regard on Faramir. He had not had much opportunity to speak with the man earlier in the day, and he was looking forward to the time ahead to reacquaint their close friendship. It had been many months since their last encounter and much had changed in the realm of the Elves of Ithilien. He was eager to share his news with the Prince. But Legolas also knew they would have much time in the days ahead to speak on these matters, and the noise from the crowd about them did not give much heed to words of serious nature. He resigned himself to the fact that the atmosphere was what needed to be relished in this smoke-encrusted tavern, and drew back in his resolve to allow humor to enter his mood. Heartily he said, "How fare Eowyn and the children?" as he took a long drink from his cup.

Faramir smiled and said, "All are well," but there was a stiffness to the answer that told Legolas a lengthier answer might lie beneath the pleasantry. Yet Faramir did not linger and went on to say, "The boys are amazing to watch. Bright they are, and I hope you will be able to see them in this passing. You will not believe how quickly they have grown!"

Legolas smiled, "Like the majus vine they are, spreading beyond the circle of their roots in what seems to be only days. I can never get over how quickly mortal children grow."

Faramir nodded in agreement, "I think even mortals cannot get past how quickly mortal children grow! But they do not seem to appreciate the break we are about to undertake from them. They wish to come along."

Gimli laughed, huddling in to participate in the conversation. "Do they appreciate," the dwarf asked, "that adults sometimes need time for play themselves?"

"I think they do not realize adults play, Gimli. Sadly, they think us all nothing but seriousness and deep mood. But they will be fine in this place. Eowyn has them convinced that their visit in Minas Tirith will be a great holiday all their own. They are already quite settled into the palace, and have given their nurse the slip on more than one occasion this day. The king's manor is quite beside itself with the sound of frolicking children in its corridors. I think Aragorn is quite pleased by the intrusion," Faramir said with a paternal gleam.

"So Eowyn is ready for this excursion," the elf broke in.

"Ready is hardly the word. Frantic for it, I think. After all, this trip was the idea of she and Arwen," Faramir said.

"But the ladies shan't be hunting," the dwarf questioned.

"Nay," said Faramir. "At least not Eowyn. She said she will be more than happy to lounge undisturbed and to take in the sites of our realm," he said indicating he and Legolas' homeland.

"Gimli!" a shrill female voice broke through the chaotic frenzy of noise about them. A buxom woman sidled up to the dwarf and crushed her body into the open arms of the stout creature as she delivered Faramir his drink. Oblivious to Faramir's royal presence, she turned her attention on the dwarf. "You came to see me, you handsome imp! I knew you could not stay away!"

Legolas blushed on Gimli's behalf, and Faramir snorted back a guffaw. But Gimli did not seem to notice and directed his attention to the handsome female tucked into his arms. Speaking loudly so his companions could hear, and winking in their direction, he dramatically said, "Ah, but my sweet, how could I ever stay parted from you long."

Swatting him away, she said to the group in general, "Oh, you are a talker! Never does he do anything but whisper sweet-nothings at me. Still," she said, angling back into the dwarf, "a girl likes to hear such pretty utterances."

"Your beauty deserves more than any words I could deliver. Give me a kiss, and I will be more than contented for my longing," the dwarf said in half-jest.

The barmaid giggled and backed away as she looked about their table. "You are sly! But you won't catch me smooching it up with all to see. So how about another round instead?" she said as Legolas drained his cup for the second time.

Gimli's tankard was still half full, and Faramir had just taken his first gulp, but the elf nodded his approval and the barmaid slipped away to fill the order. With a cautionary voice, Gimli said, "You had better slow down, my friend. That drink can have a large impact if taken too fast."

Legolas growled under his breath before answering, "I can manage myself, Gimli and I know my limits. Try not to be so…priggish," he said with a small laugh that he was uncertain came from his mouth.

The dwarf just smirked at his companion and reclined back in his chair to enjoy the rest of this evening out.

After several more rounds of drink, Legolas was also reclining back in his chair. The warmth in his belly had moved up through his spine and permeated his limbs with a dreamy sluggishness that he found quite comfortable. The noise about him seemed less jarring, and the smokey haze of the room troubled him no more. The mirth of his friends had pervaded his mood, and he found himself smiling happily at the Prince and the dwarf, feeling a deep brotherly affection for them both in an intensity he could not remember ever having before. He was truly enjoying himself, and his laughter punctuated the conversation at their table. Glancing about at the other inhabitants of the room, he saw a motley assortment of characters. A random group they were, in a variety of ages and sizes that brought wonder to the elf's altered senses. And to a one they all seemed to be enjoying themselves with the same revelry of the elf, and he felt surprisingly satisfied and at ease in their presence.

A group of rowdy men at the next table caught his attention, and an assault of prodding and goading was going on between them as they regarded one of their own with a dare. The one in question stood up with as much dignity as he could muster in his intoxicated state, and announced to the group in general, and to the room at large, "Very well, I shall do it!" A round of cheers went up at his table, and without further explanation, the man stood on his chair. Clearing his throat, the attention of many throughout the room focused on him. With a loud voice, he said, "Gentlemen…and ladies," he said bowing to the few women in the room, "my friends have challenged me, it seems. They wish for me to sing you a song. And as I do not back down from a dare," a murmur of chuckles rose up from the group at his table, "if you will allow it, I would offer you this tune." A smattering of claps rose up from around the room and the young man began to sing.

All heads in the tavern turned to face the ruddy young man, who sang without flinching, or even looking so much as nervous at the attention now drawn to him. He sang to the crowd, urged on by their attention, and he seemed to be enjoying this moment of scrutiny. His voice was fair, but the crowd seemed to enjoy the words to his song better than his talent. For the tune that he sang was quite lurid in content, a bawdy song that seemed at home in this place, and the crowd cackled with approval at the more raucous parts within it. Legolas found himself blushing as he listened, charmed and yet stunned that a song of this caliber could have such a merry, yet stirring effect on him. When done, the man swept a bow to the crowd and smiled to the accepted pats upon his back by the group of his table.

Across the room, a voice called out, "I'll do that one better!" and a man arose from his seat and began singing another very callous song. Looking at the expressions at his own table, Legolas could see the beaming grins of Faramir and Gimli in appreciation of the lyrics, and he could not help but wonder at the comradery that was spreading through the room as many of the men took up the song, joining in with the tune. He saw Gimli lift his mug overhead and swing it about in time with the music, yet the dwarf managed to keep the contents within the cup intact. Legolas picked up his own tin and began to do the same, but the warm liquid in his sloshed to and fro most violently, so the elf was forced to drink more before he could imitate the dwarf's actions more succinctly.

Then as that song ended, Gimli arose and stood on his own chair. Legolas was shocked, but apparently no others were and he heard the barkeep call out, "Gimli's going to sing!" The crowd repeated the call. "Gimli! Gimli!" came the repeated urging throughout the room. Grinning madly at the attention, the dwarf allowed the call to continue for some time before holding his hands up to quell the noise. Gimli began with a start from the audience, belting out a dwarven melody that made Legolas blanch at the lewdness of the words. Snickering at the song, the elf exchanged glances with Faramir who, too, was chuckling loudly at their dwarven friend.

For his part, Gimli was very much enjoying his role as the center of attention, and he urged the crowd on in taking up the chorus, slowing his words so they could catch them in all. Before the song was complete, Gimli had the room alive with the repetition of his tune, and as he finished, he bowed deeply to all. Then turning to his companions, he pointed to Legolas and said, "Now you grace us with one, Legolas!" But Legolas shrank back from the dwarf's invitation.

Seeing the gesture, Mal called out to the crowd, "Let's hear one from Legless!" and the crowd echoed their support. "Legless! Legless! Legless!" came the call from around the room.

Feeling his face growing a deep shade of red, Legolas shook them off, but the sound grew louder the more he protested. "LEGLESS!" they urged on with hands reaching out and patting him on the back. At his side, Faramir mouthed the word, "Legless?" to Gimli, to which the dwarf laughed in answer.

Utterly embarrassed, Legolas sheepishly stood up to face the calls. His legs buckled slightly under his weight, and he held onto the table to regain his stance and wondered at his weakness as he had not unduly exerted himself that day.

A roar of applause cheered him on as Mal yelled out, "Sing something Elvish, Legless! Give us a lusty tune!" and the crowd roared agreement and took up the call again.

Mumbling out "My name is Legolas," the crowd ignored him and continued their noisy urging. Slowly a smile crept over his face in response to the pleas, and the feeling of goodwill returned to the elf. It was a natural thing for him to sing, and Legolas could easily break into song of his own make on most any day, without even stopping to think. So when the call for a song was foisted upon him, it was not the idea of singing that embarassed him most, but the desire for song before a great crowd of men, a thing he usually chose to avoid, that made him hesitate. But now that he felt more comfortable standing before them, and indeed found that they truly wanted to hear his words, he realized he had no idea of what to sing. Such music was not within his normal realm. He had never tried to construct a song such as those he had just heard, and his brain did not seem capable of putting one together at the moment. And worse, he could not think of a single Elven song that would fit the occasion either!

Grasping at nothing, his mind was muddled by his panic and he found it difficult to get his thoughts focused. Mortified by what betook him, his eyes grew large as he glanced back at his friends. But the dwarf and the Prince offered nothing but smiles of encouragement, and the elf realized he was in this struggle alone. Closing his eyes to all about him, he drew a deep breath and forced his mind to go blank. His brain felt sluggish and he had trouble concentrating, but thinking hard and long, at last a gasp escaped him. A laugh fell from his mouth. Shaking his head, he knew just the song. Holding up his hands to cease the noise, the crowd grew quiet and he opened his mouth to sing.

A tune of quick tempo lilted with his voice, and he found himself pleased with his own cleverness. Truly it was an old elven song, but it was unrecognizable as such in the way he portrayed it. It was really a song of love and loss, about an Elven maiden who pined for her dead lover. In her misery and despair, the song said, she took his horse and departed, losing herself in her sorrow, relinquishing her body and spirit to the wayward direction of the beast. Among his own people it was sung in lament and with deep sorrow, a selection of sounds that conveyed a mood of chastity and deep emotion. But here in the tavern, with alterations to the tempo and pitch, the song took on a sprightly rhythm and sly asides, and a completely different meaning was had. The lascivious minds of the men around him filled in the ambiguities of the song and rounds of applause came up at points Legolas would never before have considered vulgar. The men seemed to be lauding the horse, and hoots of laughter echoed through the tavern when the chorus was sung. "Ride on, ride on…" he sang, and they cheered. Encouraged by the lewdness of the people about him, he added expression to his words and his face grew more animated. Feeling very much unlike himself, he was half-embarrassed at these exploits, for they reminded him in some ways of something his father might do. He was infinitely glad there were no other elves present to witness this of him. And yet even still, this strange character (that was not like the Legolas he knew) sang the last notes with unbridled enthusiasm. The room erupted in applause, and in mixed conflict with himself, the elf once again felt his face grow red. Making a show of it, he picked up his drink and downed the last gulp. Then slapping the mug to the table, he dramatically sat down.

But the chair was not there and he disappeared beneath the table.

Surrounded by laughter, Legolas found himself with two choices: cringe in embarrassment; or join in with the fun. His head was spinning a bit, and it seemed much easier to give in. Sensing a good joke, he choked on the hilarity of the moment and as his two comrades lifted him back to his feet, and into a real seat, he chortled, "Now I am Legless!" Doubling over at his own good humor, the elf had to grab hold of the edge of the table as he started to topple over. Blinking to regain himself, the world suddenly seemed skewed to his perceptions. A cold sweat broke across his forehead and the laughter that had just been pouring out of him slipped quickly away. "Oh…" he said.

Gimli and Faramir exchanged a quick glance and then immediately rose. "Right then," said the dwarf as he and Faramir pulled Legolas up out of the chair. Gimli put an arm about the elf's waist while Faramir threw an elven arm over his shoulder.

Suddenly finding himself propped up between his two friends, Legolas said, "But wait. I tant to sway. I mean…" He found himself caught in another fit of laughter, not even realizing the difficulty he was having in maneuvering his own feet as the dwarf and Prince half-pushed, half-dragged him through the crowd. At last they reached the door, and a blast of cool air hit the elf's face at their exit.

The breeze elicited a soothing response, and Legolas suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to sleep. The world seemed topsy-turvy, and he pushed himself out of his friends' grasps only to find he needed the wall to hold himself up. The cold sweat on his brow now sent a chill down his spine and a throbbing pain was beginning to ring in his head. Nausea swept across him like a sudden wave, and he doubled over in an effort to fight it off and remain upright and intact. But it was not a thing to be mastered, and against his will, his stomach proceeded to expel its contents.

"This is attractive," muttered the dwarf, who swayed a bit on his own. He stared at the elf now collapsed on all fours in the street.

Legolas looked up at his friend, wondering how Gimli could be so apathetic to the elf's plight. Expressing his thoughts on his own condition, Legolas said, "I think I have been poisoned."

Gimli and Faramir both laughed and then the dwarf responded as he offered a hand to rise, "Poisoned, my friend? Who would want you poisoned?"

"…no idea," said the elf, leaning against the wall as he attempted to stand unaided, then he laughed and said, "Mayhaps someone did not like my song."

Gimli sighed and shook his head with a bemused smile, "No, elf, 'tis not poison. Though in the morning I suspect you will wish it had been. You are drunk. That is all. Just drunk."

Legolas wavered as he looked at the dwarf who whirled about before his eyes, and his face scrunched into an angered expression as he slurred, "Drunk! I am not! I have had drink before, in my very many years, and never been affected as thissuch." Then he started laughing at his new made-up word. "Thissuch," he repeated.

"Oh yes you are drunk!" came the laugh of Faramir with a hand to the elf's shoulder. Legolas blinked in surprise. He had forgotten that Faramir was there. "This will be a night I shall not soon forget, my elf-friend. For indeed you are drunk and I think it is time we got you home and to your bed."

"…not drunk, Faramir," the elf sputtered and began walking down the street, using the wall to support his fumbling steps. Then he stopped and looked about him. He could not remember where he was supposed to be going. Or for that matter where he was. He turned back to look at his companions and recognized that they had not followed his path and stood still at the tavern's door, wicked smiles glancing off their faces.

"'Twas poison," he slurred pointedly to the dwarf as he passed, then he continued his march up the street, still uncertain where he was going, but determined not to let the dwarf see him fail. Sadly though, his body had had enough, and his legs began to wobble with each step that he took. Weariness pressed down on his mind and his eyes grew heavy with his task. Pausing to rest, he found his legs slowly give way and his body slid down a stuccoed wall. The elf found himself sitting on the ground. With complete indifference to his predicament, he let his head drift down and rest on his chest.

"Oh no. You shall not lie here, Legolas," the elf heard the Prince say and he felt strong arms lift him back to a standing position.

Managing to get out the word, "…tired…" Legolas felt his body go limp and in the back of his mind he waited for the inevitable crash to the ground. Except it did not happen. Caught in a whirl of motion, he felt his body maneuvered and jostled and finally thrown over a broad shoulder. His arms swept over his head, pushed by gravity in a disorienting manner. With neither will nor strength to open his eyes, he let his mind drift in an upside-down world as he heard snatches of conversation and felt his body sway to the footfalls of his unknown rescuer.

"…heavier than he looks…" he heard a voice say.

Then another, "…regrets in the morn…"

"…fit to travel?" was the next.

And lastly, a voice unmistakably Gimli's, said, "If I know anything of the elf, I would say this: he would rather die than admit he was sick. I can guarantee, he will travel," which was followed by a round of laughter.

And after an interminably long passage of time, interspersed with confusing dreams, the elf felt himself dropped into a bed. Or at least he thought it was a bed, for it was very soft and inviting. He felt hands pull off his boots, and another propped him up as his belt and tunic were removed. Then a blanket was laid over him, and he felt himself drift off to sleep.

But instantly he was awake, and he jumped out of bed. With wild eyes he caught sight of the dwarf closing the door. Legolas called out, "Gimli, find your weapon! We are under attack!" as he nervously glanced about trying to remember where his quiver and bow were at within the room.

"Eh?" was the dwarf's response.

With renewed urgency, Legolas said, "We are under attack. Can you not feel it? The whole building moves." He found himself wavering under his sudden loss of balance.

Walking over to the elf, Gimli pushed Legolas backwards and into the bed. Landing with a thud in the soft comfort, the elf heard Gimli's voice say, "You are drunk. Get some sleep." Legolas wanted to protest, but he knew the dwarf was no longer there. He was gone and Legolas allowed his mind to drift back into dreams. But not before hearing the sound of a harsh sputtering snort leave his mouth. What was that? he thought dully. Elves do not snore. But the answer to his own question did not come, for he had fallen asleep. And indeed, he was snoring.