Merry was on his second helping of food when he heard unpleasant yells coming from the room behind him.  “Make that fifteen minutes,” he muttered.  “Hey, what’s that?”

Somehow, Merry had managed to hear some sort of commotion in one of the nearby hallways.  Cautiously he walked to the end of the corridor to see some high-ranking servant—the cellarer, he realized—talking heatedly with another individual in the Tower’s livery.

“What’s going on?” he said.

The cellarer turned around and jumped back a foot at the sight before him.  “Meriadoc of the Shire?” he hazarded.

Merry nodded encouragingly.

“If I may be so bold, what are you—”

“Never mind that; ‘twill be your first shock of many today if I guess correctly.  What’s the problem?”

The cellarer began dry-washing his hands as he spoke.  “Well, it would be of no importance were it not for the feast to be held tonight—a disaster has befallen in the wine cellar on the First Circle.  The consequences are so—soenormous that someone in higher authority should know, but I do not wish of course to bother His Majesty.”  He reddened and looked down.  “I should not be burdening you with this knowledge, sir.”  He reddened even more, for looking down had brought his gaze in full contact with the hobbit’s incredibly exposed legs.

“Not to worry, my fine fellow,” said Merry.  “I’ll see that someone in authority learns and maybe we can see what will be done.”  He went back to his food, stuffed the rest of it into his mouth, and ran up the staircase that led to the main part of the Citadel.  “Oi, Pip!” he cried through a mouthful of food.

Pippin was just leaving the apartments of the royal couple, presumably for the purposes of his own sustenance.  “What?”

“Is Strider disposed?”

“No, but he can’t do anything about it.  Why?”

“Some sort of emergency concerning the wine for tonight’s feast.  Cellarer didn’t think it’d warrant his attention, but considering how he’ll probably want the ambassador to get as drunk as possible so he’ll think seeing His Majesty in a dress was some sort of bizarre dream, I think he might want to examine the situation anyway.”

“Fine by me,” said Pippin, “but you break the news.  I’m famished.”

“Pippin, you’re always famished.”

“Well, more famished than normal, then.”  And with that Pippin walked away and down the stairs.

Merry sighed at the thought of how long he was leaving Éowyn and Faramir untended, but he still went to the door of the Queen’s chambers and knocked.  “Who is it?” said Arwen from within.

“Merry, with a bit of important news.”

“Enter, please.”  Merry did so, and the sight that he encountered was not a little amusing.

They were both upon the loveseat, Arwen with the dress spread across her lap and Aragorn with that grim, focused look that one gets when dealing with constant pain.  Merry could immediately see why, for he had that corset-thing strapped around his waist and it really did look as if it would hurt.  Merry refrained from circling his hands around his own stomach to see how much he could bear.

“Important news, eh?” grunted the King, whose struggles seemed to have returned him to full Ranger mode.

“Some sort of mess-up at the cellars on the First Circle.  I don’t know much more than that, but you might want to send someone down to investigate.  When you have time, of course,” he added, wondering what the hold-up was in Aragorn’s robing.

“He is too broad-chested,” said Arwen.  “At least, he would be if he were a woman.  I am widening the seams and that should be able to make it fit, but it is causing a slight delay.”

“And no small discomfort,” added Aragorn.

Arwen tied off the thread she was working on.  “There,” she said, “it is half finished.  And if that is all you have to say, Meriadoc, I suggest that you return to your charges.  They are not to be left alone for long, if only for the sake of decorum.”

“I doubt Faramir is in a state to try anything, my lady.  I could hear him from where I was eating.”

“I know,” said the Queen.  “Decorum.”

“Er, right,” said Merry.  “Then, by your leave, I will ensure that decorum remains,” he said, and curtseyed before he left the room.

By the time he got back, Faramir had managed to get inside his dress.  The room nearly shook with Merry’s laughter.