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Changes and Acceptances  by Mirkwoodmaiden

Menelwie's Page-all things LOTR

Chapter 6 - Of cures and competition

The next morning...

Faramir cautiously opened one eye. Bright light seared through his optic nerve and he quickly shut his rather too heavy lid again. He rolled over slowly, leaving his arm across his eyes as added protection thinking, Curse the Valar, just how much did I drink last night? He had a fuzzy memory of drinking out of a bucket. Surely not. he hoped but somehow he knew it to be true. No wonder my head feels as if two weights of cotton have been stuffed into it.

Just then a bundle of small blonde energy pounced upon him causing him to admit a loud groan. The small bundle of energy laughed and starting pulling at his hair. Against his better judgment Faramir opened his eyes and saw little Elanor sitting on the bed next to him bouncing up and down again. "H-Honey," he started, feeling as if his tongue was actually trying to work against any form of intelligible communication, "Could you please stop that! Elanor! Please stop!" Faramir said as his head was threatening to split itself in two with each bounce. "Eowyn!" he half shouted, instantly regretting the effort.

From the foot of bed was heard a sweet, innocent, "Yes, my love?"

Faramir was immediately suspicious, looking through slitted eyes he asked his wife, "Could you take the child away... Please."

"I thought you wanted a little daughter," Eowyn replied oh-so-innocently.

The supplication in Faramir's eyes cracked Eowyn's resolve. She laughed softly as she bent over to retrieve the child. "Scoot along, little flower, Faramir not quite himself this morning!"

Pathetic gratitude filled Faramir's voice, "Thank you." he said returning his arm to the shielding of his eyes. He, again felt somebody climb into bed, this time more gently. He could smell Eowyn's sweet, light fragrance of rose petals as a low voice next to his ear said, "You were wonderful last night, my lord." Faramir's eyes flew open and he turned his head to see Eowyn's fair and slightly freckled face grinning mischievously, her light reddish hair falling over the pillow.
"You're enjoying this aren't you?"

She merely nodded, the mischievous grin still on her face.

"Wench, Evil woman! Taking joy out of your own husband's pain."

Eowyn laughed, softly.

"We didn't..." Faramir stopped, too embarrassed to continue.

Eowyn's grin widened, "Well, if you do not remember...I am certainly not going to say anything. I shall leave you to recover yourself." At that Eowyn kissed him lingeringly, then got up quickly before Faramir could react and left, shutting the door quietly, chuckling to herself.

Surely I'd remember if we'd...Faramir thought, feeling the aftereffects of that kiss, the gentle brush of her hair on his chest, her soft lips on his. But he thought again. He was lucky that he remembered his name with the amount he'd drunk last night. He would ponder it later and surrendered himself up to more much needed sleep.

***

Eowyn leaned on the other side of the door silently laughing as Rosie and Arwen came up the hall, "Well, how did it go?" Rosie asked conspiratorially.

"Quite well! He'll be wondering for days now!"

The other two women laughed. Rosie said , "Sam will also! Serves them right! Drinking and not even asking us along!"

***

When Faramir awoke a couple hours later, he felt much more human. His tongue was working properly and the light did not attack his eyes with as much unbridled energy. He was able to get dressed and face the outside world. Or at least the kitchen to see about some coffee.

Arriving in the kitchen it gratified him to see that he was not the only one suffering from last night's over indulgence. Beregond definitely looked a little worse for wear sitting at the kitchen table waiting for the same coffee that Faramir was hopeful of. Pippin was not chattering away a mile second as was his usual wont. Faramir gingerly sat himself next to Pippin, who gave him a smile that said "Great night but I feel like death warmed over this morning." Faramir returned the smile and its intentions.

At that moment Aragorn appeared at the doorway to the kitchen, laughed heartily and clapped Faramir on the back hard as he sat down next to him, "Good night, last night I hear, my Steward."

Faramir straightened up from the blow delivered and side-glared his King. "My liege, I love you and will protect you all the days of my life, but do that again and I will kill you where you stand."

Aragorn again laughed heartily, "Is that any way to speak to your King, especially as he has been brewing up something that will help revive your ...er...sagging spirits."

"What?" Faramir said dully with all the understanding of a mountain troll.

Aragorn smiled and pressed on, "Herbs grown only here in the Shire can be brewed up into a fairly good hangover cure. Do you want to try?"

"If it stops this throbbing I'll try anything." The others had only enough energy to nod hopefully.

"Right then," Aragorn got up to retrieve the brewing pot from outside, "Sorry, Poppy," he said to the maid wrinkling her nose as he entered, "the smell can be pungent. That's why I brewed it outside."

"Pungent!" Pippin said, "It stinks!"

"Ah, but it works!" Aragorn said as he placed the pot on the table and went in search of mugs.

Faramir eyed it suspiciously. It was a darkish green colour and resembled a thick broth and had bits of shredded leaves floating on the surface. It looked thoroughly unappetizing but as the throbbing in his head seemed to getting worse not better he was willing to give it a try.

Aragorn returned with three medium sized mugs and began serving up. He handed Faramir his portion and Faramir further contemplated the contents of his mug as Aragorn passed portions to the other two.  Faramir looked at his King, who said, "Go on! No sipping. It must be downed in one."

Faramir look a deep breath, and started drinking. The stuff was vile but he managed to down it all. At first there was no reaction, save that of his stomach, which was unhappy with this latest onslaught upon its well-being. But after a few minutes his head started to clear and his stomach stopped rebelling. He did not feel completely himself but he felt a darn sight better than he had ten minutes earlier. He blinked a couple of times and the light stopped hurting his eyes so much.

Aragorn sat next to Faramir, elbows on the table leaning forward, peering at his Steward, "How are you feeling?" he inquired warmly looking at Faramir and at the other two, who were indeed looking a whole lot less green.

Faramir rubbed his face and looked at his King, "Not bad, not too bad at all." He smiled at Aragorn, "That's twice you've brought me back from the brink of death."

Aragorn looked at him, "Glad I could help." he said quietly, his gray eyes filled with remembrance.

Pippin chimed in, "This stuff is amazing! Poppy, get the recipe. This one's definitely a keeper."

"Hold on, young master Took! I hate to disappoint but these leaves can only be harvested in the early spring and cannot be stored. You have not found the answer to all your prayers." Pippin's face fell as indeed so did Beregond's. But Pippin, ever cheerful, quickly stated, "Then I suppose it's lucky that it is early spring, because that was building to be one very unpleasant hangover."

Aragorn walked over to where Pippin was sitting and tousled the curly mob of light brown hair, "That it is, Pip! That it is!"

At that moment a few more victims of the night's merriment appeared in the kitchen. Three elves who did not look as bright as they usually appeared but were loathe to admit it and Merry.

Pippin chimed up, "Merry! You've got to try this!"

The newcomers all flinched at the bright, cheery voice and glared at its owner. Merry gave him a look that clearly said, "Pippin, Shut it or I will shut it for you!"

Legolas sat down with a very unusual thud. Elrohir leaned with his back against one of the kitchen walls, eyes closed and head tilted back, saying "Now I know why Elves don't drink ale!" Elladan sat with another thud and put his head in his hands, "And Arwen waking us up at the crack of dawn, with that little sprite of child bouncing up and down." The dark-haired elf let out a low groan.

Faramir, thinking more clearly by this time, was immediately suspicious and looked at Aragorn, who was a little too busy ladling out his wonder cure, to be completely innocent.

"Ah, my next patients have arrived. Gentleman, if you will excuse me!" Aragon said to Faramir and the other two ushering them out of the kitchen.

***

The revelers all save Gimli had been properly dosed with Aragorn's "wonder cure" and were feeling roughly themselves by midday meal. The Hobbits still managed to put away a fair amount of food, being Hobbits, but the Men and the Elves were a bit more circumspect in what they ate and drank, not wanting to tempt a good thing.

Gimli said he had no need of Aragorn's potion, but Legolas suspected he said this, in order to get one up on his Elven friend, for in truth the Dwarf did not look as hale as he usually did.

Talk over the meal turned to the archery competition that had been proposed in the pub the night before. Legolas still thought it was a good idea. "Come on Ell', you still up for it!"

Elladan said, "Let us try!" He turned to Rosie, "If that is acceptable to my Lady." inclining his head, some of his affability and charm returning after the morning's...detour.

"I think it is a wonderful idea!" Rosie said.

The Lorien Elves, Rumil, who was Haldir's younger brother, Mereth and Dorvir, who had not joined the others the night before seemed to be very keen on the idea. Rumil said, "It will give us another chance to disprove the idea that Mirkwood holds the best archers in Middle Earth!"

Legolas replied "We'll just see about that! Lorien has long said it. And has yet to prove it!" his blue eyes snapping with enjoyment and challenge.

"Imladris will top you both!" Elladan crowed.

Aragorn raised his hand and said, "Gentlemen, before we start an elven holy war, I suggest that we retire to the Party Field to find out who is boasting and who is best."

This suggestion was met with general acclimation and it was agreed that two hours hence the competition would begin. The elves competing in the contest took their leave from the table in order to make ready their equipment, chattering excitedly as they went.

"Never imply to an elf that another elf is a better and more skilled an archer than he is!" Aragorn said shaking his head ruefully, but not without amusement. "I learned that the hard way. As a boy I suggested to Elrohir that Elladan was the better archer. Elrohir stopped speaking to me, and if he had not bested Elladan in a shooting contest a week hence, I think he could have held his silence a longer while yet."
Celeborn laughed and said, "You must forgive us elves this small vanity. To pull the bow in the service of others is an privilege hard fought for, to pull the bow well is to honour one's realm and people. The lighter side of this honour does tend to lend itself to not a small degree of arrogance on our part in all matters of shooting."

Gimli harrumphed as if to indicate that well did he know of this elven arrogance earning him a sidelong glance and smile from Celeborn.

***

The mallorn tree on the Party Field, the only one north of Lorien, gifted by Galadriel herself was only just starting to bloom resulting in a gentle radiance that rested lightly upon the field.

Hasty coverings of sheets upon bound hay bales were rigged at the far end of the field to serve as bosses and parchments were drawn up for targets. Excitement among the inhabitants of Hobbiton grew when word spread that there was to be a display of Elven archery upon the Party Field. Many had heard of the legendary prowess of the elves with a bow, but few had ever actually seen a display of said skill.

It was decided by the participants and Aragorn who had been nominated Range Master that they would pair up and each pairing would compete as a team sharing honours equally. Legolas paired with Rumil, Mereth with Dorvir and the inseparable twins would of course form the last partnership.

Legolas knew Rumil from times past. Before the Ring War he had frequented Lorien on various missions and errands and had been befriended by Rumil and his brothers, Orophin and Haldir, who had lead the Galadrim at Helm's Deep and fought valiantly, only to lose his life defending that which he had loved so much. The memory of his loss still pained Legolas. But while the loss would remain ever-present for him, Legolas knew that the only way to try counterbalance loss was to celebrate life. This he was determined to do.

Rumil looked at him, laughter glinted in his green eyes, "So what do you think, will the others even come close to our score!"

"Not a chance!" Legolas boasted, "They gone soft in Imladris!" he called loudly throwing a mischievous look in the twins' direction.

"Say you so!" Elladan retorted, "Toe the line and we shall see who has gone soft and who has not."

"Archers!" Aragorn called cutting through the chatter, "it will be a round of six arrows around the horn, and you have two minutes. Speed is not a requirement but accuracy is. Tangado chadad!" Aragorn held aloft Anduril, readying for the release.

Legolas, Elladan and Mereth drew their bows aiming at the small circle within the bull's eye, the object being to place the six arrows around, tracing the path of the circle. Whoever traced the path the most accurately would score the most points.

"Hado i philinn!" Aragorn shouted, slashing downwards with Anduril.

The archers let fly their arrows one after another with a swift, balletic grace that only skills sharpened lovingly over years of dedicated accomplishment could display. Bowstrings sang as each archer traced the circle around their target. Arrows flew true to their mark as the archers expressed their joy of shooting through each movement honed to perfection.

Mereth released her last arrow to complete her circle seconds before Aragorn called time. The archers retrieved their arrows and the parchments that had been attached to the targets were collected and brought to Aragorn for inspection.

Mereth's last arrow had hit slightly outside the line and another had been slightly inside the circle, so out a perfect score of nine, one point for each arrow and three points for spacing, scored six.

Elladan's parchment had each arrow touching the line but his spacing was slightly off for a score of eight.

Legolas' placing of his arrows was perfect, but his spacing was also ever so slightly off and he received the identical score of eight.

In the next round, Dorvir had scored seven, Elrohir eight to match his brother, but Rumil fired with a swiftness and surety that resulted in a perfect score of nine. His parchment bore the testament of flawlessness, with each hole equidistance from the center and each other, as witnessed by the spectators when the aparchments were passed around to "ooo's and ahh's"

"It's wonder what an un-ale impaired eye can do!" Rumil said goading Elladan just a little, laughing when the Imladris elf threw the water skin at him.

"It's not over just yet, Lorien! We'll see!" Elladan returned, eyes flashing with a good-natured competitive fire.

Legolas laughed and draped an arm around his partner, "Pay him no mind, Rumil. He's just a little out of sorts! Imladris elves do not hold their spirits, liquid or otherwise well!" the Wood Elf added with an evil grin aimed at Elladan.

The little crowd that gathered clapped the results as they were announced. Each round highlighted either speed or accuracy or both. After three rounds Legolas and Rumil lead the other two by three points and were feeling rather proud of themselves.

The next round required both speed and accuracy. "Next will be All comers, gentlemen!" Aragorn called, then smiled, "And Lady!" when Mereth tossed him a look.

Each Archer in turn would stand a set distance from the center target and would wait for Aragorn to call the shots.

Legolas went first.

"Tangado a chadad!"

Legolas stood ready, bow down, arrow knocked.

"Center right!" Legolas loosed his arrow and hit the middle right of the center target.

"Left center! Right bottom! Right center! Left bottom!" The calls continued and Legolas let fly the accordant arrow within the blink of an eye waiting only for the next call to release him. The release hand flying to quiver to bowstring with the next knocked arrow was a single fluid motion which held a beauty all its own. Out of fifteen calls Legolas did not miss one, hitting each dead center, scoring maximum points and raising cheers from the rapt crowd.

Each followed on, athletic grace and swift elven reflexes combining to create movements resembling the motions of a beautiful choreographed dance that would have been deadly had they been in earnest.

The partnership of the Imladris twins and that of Legolas and Rumil were even on points at what had initially been decided was the end of the competition, but neither were willing to accept a draw as an acceptable result, so a challenge was devised. Each pairing was to decide which archer was to accept the challenge.

Legolas stood for his pairing and Elrohir stood for his. The challenge was simple, each was given one chance to hit a small drawn target that had been placed a hundred feet away accessible by arrow only though a narrow opening less than a foot wide.

Elrohir shot first, taking aim and then let fly the arrow. The dark-haired elf waited impassively to hear what the result was, although he had been fairly certain of success. Sure enough, the little hobbit sent to check the result came back crowing, "In the black! The Imladris Elf has hit it square in the center."

"Well done, 'Roh!" his older brother enthused, sending a challenging look at Legolas who immediately looked pensive.

"Perhaps, we should just call it a draw and have done." Legolas said.

"Oh no!" Elladan piped up, "We will do no such thing. Take your best shot, Wood Elf."

"Well, all right," Legolas caught Gimli's eye and smiled broadly. Gimli returned the intent gaze, shaking his head, thinking that the other elves were mistaken if they thought Legolas was going to be beaten. He'd never known anyone as driven to prove themselves as Legolas was.

He saw the Wood Elf as he had seen him many times in battle, a calm grace had settled over him which honed an inner focus so acute that nothing could stand in his way as he sought to bring down his quarry. He saw Legolas take aim, hold and then release in a movement fluid yet powerful. He did not even have to wait for the report. Legolas had found his target.

Others had no such assurance and waited for the little boy to bring back the quarry to judge for themselves where matters stood. Sure enough, when the boy brought back the target a murmur of astonishment and amazement and one dwarfish laugh sounded throughout the Party Field. Legolas had indeed found the target. The parchment bore only one hole and in the boy's other hand was the Imladris warrior's arrow, split down the middle by a light green shaft and Galadrim fletchings. Not only had he hit the target but also Legolas had split Elrohir's arrow doing it.

Elrohir laughed and gave Legolas a sidelong look, "Looks like the honours belong to Mirkwood and Lorien!" He clapped both Rumil and Legolas on the back, "You owe me a new arrow, but for now I think a wine skin at the Green Dragon will suffice. Drinks on you two!"

Cheers went up from all involved, and Legolas and Rumil soaked up the congratulations from many. Legolas caught Gimli's eye again and the Elf said, "Friend Gimli, do I have your congratulations!" eyes snapping with mischief and affection.

Gimli harrumphed, "Not that you need anything to make that head of yours any bigger...but well done, lad, I knew you had it from the start."

Legolas laughed and placed his arm around his friend as they walked towards the pub.

Many that day, either elves or men or hobbits retired to the Green Dragon for a bit of refreshment and to talk of what they had just seen and that day did not dim in the memory of many that were there, and the feats of Elven archery were retold many times and in many ways.

*************
**Tangado a chahad! = Prepare to fire!

**Hado i philinn! = Release the arrows!

** = direct quote from either book or film screenplay.





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