Several things happened in quick succession on the threshold of Legolas and Gimli’s apartment.  Aragorn clapped his hands over his ears at the pierce of Legolas’ cry.  Gimli seized the opportunity to half-leap, half-dive into a full tackle of His Majesty, knocking both him and Legolas over.  Merry and Pippin soon followed, and then gleefully pulled the slippers off his feet and set to the soles with their feathers.

Sam arrived at the scene last, shaking his head, just in time to see Aragorn laugh so hard that he fainted.

“Victory!” cried Merry, loud enough that Sam began to wonder how much he had enjoyed himself prior to this… whatever it was.

“Are you quite done yet?” said Sam.

“Yes,” said Merry.

“No,” said Pippin.

Sam sighed, and hauled them from the scene of carnage by the backs of their shirts, allowing Gimli to pick himself up from the prostrate King and Legolas to slide out from under the dead weight.  Legolas, having recovered from the initial shock of seeing a corseted king, an irate dwarf, and two mad hobbits at his door, walked calmly to the window and opened it, breathing the late day air.

Just then, with a noisy squawk and a ruffling of the air, in flew a magpie.  It landed half a foot away from the King’s head and delicately pulled out another one of the hairpins with its beak.  The strange occurrence seemed to mesmerize them all, for no one thought to do anything about it until the bird took to the air again.

The King stirred just in time to see it fly out the window.  “After it!” he cried.

“How?” said Gimli, even as Legolas leapt onto the windowsill to quarry the magpie with his eyes.

“He is entering an apparent crevice in the tower wall some twenty feet below us,” said Legolas.  “It does not lie directly below the window, but it is not far.”

“Impressive,” Gimli huffed, “from the fellow that was wailing our ears out mere seconds ago.”

“Why?” said Legolas, jumping back inside.  “Are dwarves not made of as stern stuff?”

Sam took the liberty of the distraction to remove the peacock feathers from Merry and Pippin’s possession.  Fool as he was to keep on worriting about Mr. Frodo like this, he knew what had happened the last time he’d gotten on a table in a crowd.  He bowed to Aragorn, who was now sitting on the floor in a most unladylike pose, and said, “You’ll keep an eye on those two, won’t you?”

“As best as I can,” Strider said wryly.

Sam thanked him and hurried back to his master.