Hey everybody, I'm back! About time, eh?
So thank you for all the reviews that finally guilt-ed me into updating. Pickles long ago mentioned a particular song… that will be used in the next chapter. And thanks tpfang56, Frodo's mysterious disappearance (a.k.a. author absent-mindedness) has been turned into part of the plot. Congrats to Isis Flamewing who found my lame attempt at quoting from Les Mis. (There's someone other than me and Ann who know that musical!) As always, Ann got me to actually write and post this.
Also – Bob the Apple was inspired by the poignant story "Lord of the Taters" by The Hobbit Lass, go read it!
Upstairs the group was playing cards except Pippin was so drunk he kept turning them upside-down and the others pretty much left him to himself. Faramir and Merry were busy staring at each other from behind their cards. "Got any… threes?" Faramir asked Merry suspiciously.
"Go fish!" proclaimed Merry, looking smug. Looking injured, Faramir snatched a card from the deck as he muttered to himself. Eowyn rolled her eyes at their antics, examining her cards with boredom.
"I told you we should have something more interesting," Eowyn sighed, still put out that they had rejected her suggestion of a poker game. (Merry and Faramir had vetoed poker, unwilling to have Eowyn beat them once again.) "This time we could have played strip poker!" she added, glancing sideways at Faramir who struggled not to turn red. For a few moments they sat silently waiting for the next person to go.
"Your turn." Faramir finally said, elbowing drunken Pippin who was busy having a serious conversation with his mug. As Pippin was jolted back to reality and actually saw the cards in front of him, Merry suddenly realized something.
"You guys! Do you hear any screams?" he asked, jumping up from his spot and scattering his cards all over the floor as he ran over to the door. Everyone except Pippin followed him, treading as silently as possible. Pressing his ear to the door, Legolas shook his head.
"It could just mean she killed him already," Legolas said, drawing back from the door. "Should we go investigate?"
"I'll go, sir." Pippin proclaimed from behind them, startling everyone and giving Faramir a salute. "If I don't make it back… try and save George." Nobody had any idea who George was but they all nodded solemnly and Faramir clapped Pippin on the back. Placing his mug on his head like a helmet, Pippin slowly eased open the door and started crawling downstairs while the rest of the group peered anxiously through the partially opened door.
§
Pippin crept down the stairs, his body pressed against the wall as he listened to the sounds from the room below. As soon as he heard the clinking of mugs, he forgot all caution and blundered into the room. Sitting at opposite sides of the table were Arwen and Aragorn, several empty bottles from Faramir's stash sprawled across the table as well as some unopened ones. "All clear!" he yelled, heading straight for the nearest open bottle. As the rest of them came downstairs they realized a drinking contest was in progress and Legolas plugged his nose. Muttering to himself about 'of course it would be my beer', Faramir sidled over to Eowyn and slid an arm over her shoulder.
"Want to make a bet? Five back massages say Aragorn wins," he whispered.
"If Arwen wins, you do the laundry for the next month." Eowyn replied, straightening his collar with a wolfish grin. Smiling back at her, trying not to grimace, Faramir wondered if he was in over his head. As Arwen prepared the next set of glasses, Faramir sidled over to Aragorn.
"Hey buddy—I'll bet Arwen wins. If not…" Faramir said, then stopped to think. "If not you go out in the open and stand there until the nearest mob of fangirls gets within 100 meters." Aragorn, who had been telling really bad jokes a moment ago, turned white and froze. All the hobbits had heard the bet and gasped, waiting for Aragorn's answer. While the alcohol had dulled his senses it still took three full minutes, Arwen impatiently tapping on the table the whole time, for him to reply.
"If she doesn't, you owe me your entire supply of booze!" Aragorn replied, gesturing wildly at the secret cache. Merry sighed and Pippin took off his mug/helmet to shake his head in profound regret while Faramir and Aragorn shook hands. Legolas just shook his head in dismay as he curled up to sleep in the corner, putting earplugs in his ears.
"Today we honor a casualty in the field of battle. Aragorn, we mourn your defeat due to the glorious but judgement-impairing alcohol." Pippin said sadly, shaking his head and turning to his mug. "He never even had a chance, George!" As Pippin sniffled loudly, Merry passed him a handkerchief. After blowing his nose, Pippin absent-mindedly stuck it in a pocket and picked up the nearest bottle of booze.
"Well at least I'll be on the winning side no matter what!" Faramir whispered to himself. Then he looked over at Aragorn, trying not to fall off his chair from the after effects of the hand-shake, and compared him to Arwen who had lost none of her intensity. Sighing to himself, Faramir resigned himself to laundry but laughed inside, thinking of the look on Aragorn's face when he became sober and was asked to repay his bet.
"Wait a second… where's Frodo?" asked Merry, looking around. In the original confusion of exiting the cellar only to retreat upstairs, Frodo had indeed been left behind.
"Come on, George! You'll make lieutenant yet!" replied Pippin, once again putting his mug on his head and getting on his hands and knees. "Forward ho!" he cried, opening the cellar door and heading down… until he slipped and fell down the entire staircase. Merry glanced at the open door for a few seconds before sighing and following him down in a less painful manner as he heard a mug rolling across the floor.
§
Having descended the staircase, Merry searched for a lantern in the dim light coming from the open cellar door. Finding one, he reached inside his jacket for the matches he kept stored along with his pipes and lit it. Holding out the lantern as he looked for Pippin, Merry stumbled and almost fell over. Looking down, Merry sighed as he saw what he had tripped over.
"Ooooowww… Should we surrender, George?" Pippin moaned, followed by a pause. "You're right, George: we'll never surrender! Onward!" As Pippin valiantly tried to sit up he lay back and moaned, feeling around him for his mug. Probing more and more urgently, Pippin bolted upright as he realized he'd lost his mug.
"What's wrong?" asked Merry as Pippin yanked away the lantern and searched frantically.
"We've lost George in the field of battle!" Pippin exclaimed desperately as Merry reached forward to pat him on the shoulder, reminiscing. Last time they had gotten drunk together, Merry had grown quite attached to the apple he had affectionately named 'Bob'.
Then Merry paused for a moment and stroked his chin.
"What ever did happen to Bob?" he muttered, trying to remember. Meanwhile Pippin was busy crawling across the floor in search of George, patting his fingers against the floor. Getting nearer and nearer to the tunnel, Pippin suddenly felt something furry beneath his fingers.
"Ack!" he yelped, stumbling backwards and bumping into something else.
"What is it, Pip?" called Merry, shocked out of his reverie, as he took the lantern and walked in the direction of the noise.
"George!" Pippin replied, cradling his mug in his arms, as Merry continued to approach. Carrying the lantern in front of him, the first thing Merry spotted was a pair of hairy feet. Frodo was curled up in the end of the tunnel, gazing blankly into the distance and twitching. Muttering 'where's Sam when you need him', Merry hauled Frodo to his feet while nudging Pippin with his foot.
§
Meanwhile the pressure was mounting upstairs as the alcohol supply got lower and lower. Faramir and Eowyn watched anxiously in their seats as Aragorn and Arwen drank shot after shot, Faramir quietly hoping that the contest would end before his booze did. Legolas, however, was asleep in the corner and muttering in his sleep. Aragorn and Arwen were staring at each other as they reached for another glass when the cellar door creaked open. Panting, Merry and Pippin mounted the stairs, half-dragging Frodo behind them.
"What did we miss?" Pippin asked, pulling up a chair near Faramir and placing his mug back on his head. After plopping Frodo into the nearest chair to twitch quietly, Merry pulled up a chair to join them.
"So far they've emptied two and a half bottles." Eowyn replied as Faramir put his head in his hands and groaned.
"Impressive…" Pippin muttered as he reached for the nearest empty bottle and tipped the last few drops in his mouth, one hand holding the bottle and the other balancing George.
Meanwhile Arwen and Aragorn both reached for their next drink, Arwen wobbling a bit while Aragorn was ready to fall over. While Arwen had started out the contest by daintily sipping, now she raised her mug and gulped until she thunked the empty mug on the table with a smirk. Aragorn smirked right back at her as he lunged for his mug, missing the first few times. Finally grabbing hold of the handle, Aragorn started to chug as everyone watched on. Halfway through his body slumped and his head thunked down on the bench, the rest of his beer spilling across the table. Pippin quickly scrambled over to lick up the spill on the table as Eowyn went up to Arwen and proudly took her hand and thrust it in the air.
"We have a winner!" she declared, as Merry laughed and clapped Faramir on the shoulder and Aragorn struggled up from the bench only to sink back down groaning. Legolas, however, had been woken up by having beer spill over his face and was not happy. As he grabbed a cloth from the table, he muttered something about dry-cleaning.
"At least some of my supply is left!" sighed Faramir, not looking forward to the laundry. Then suddenly there was a big banging noise and Frodo squealed, falling off his chair and into Legolas.
"Canon-fire!" yelled Pippin, ducking underneath the table with George.
"Hobbit feet in my face! Not even a clothespin can block that smell," wailed Legolas, but everyone else was occupied with bigger problems.
"It's the cellar-door!" yelled Merry. "Quick, pile up the benches next to the door!" Pippin scrambled up, tugging the bench behind him as Faramir helped him. Then suddenly Faramir encountered some difficulty as the noise got even louder and Pippin started tugging the bench the other way.
"What are you doing?!" Faramir yelled, letting go of the first bench and just hauling another one over to Merry.
"Frontal assault, sir!" exclaimed Pippin, shoving the bench up against the front door which also had someone pounding on it.
"We don't have enough furniture!" Merry added, hauling several of the chairs to the cellar door that Faramir was frantically shoving against to keep it from opening.
"George?" gasped Pippin, bracing his whole body against the front door. Every time the door was pounded on his body moved. "I just wanted to tell you, if we don't get through this…" he began before stopping, overcome with emotion.
"Aragorn, come help!" exclaimed Faramir, kicking him in the arm while Eowyn ran over to help Pippin. Wobbling a bit, Arwen also joined the forces trying to hold the front door. Eowyn smiled bleakly at her as they both pressed their bodies against the door. Frodo, untangling himself from Legolas, stumbled over and pressed his hands against the cellar door. Once Frodo was out of his way, Legolas also recognized the desperate circumstances and headed toward the front door despite his desperate desire to take a bath. And as Faramir continued kicking, Aragorn tumbled onto the floor and lifted his head. Realizing the desperate situation, he tried to stand but fell back down. Clutching the floorboards, he crawled over to the cellar door and sat up against the door, pushing with all his might. The pounding grew louder and louder, each of them straining against the different doors.
"…I want you to know, I've never served with more honourable souls!" Pippin finished, almost in tears, as the inferno raged about him and he cradled George in his arms.
"Amen to that," whispered Merry.
Well, how's that for my customary cliffhanger? Coming up next chapter: Sam makes his appearance and Gandalf reappears just in time to resume his occupation of 'bearer of bad news'. So read and review, everybody! If this will help, reviews actually make me write faster. (Hey, I'll resort to bribery!)
Ann: Over two thousand words!!!!! (NOT including commentary!) You are definitely rubbing off on me!
Pickles: Don't worry, the song is coming right up. Just try and keep it a surprise for a little longer.
