The Paper Bag

Let's see what we can pull out of the paper bag today…

What Drunkenness Brings

Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings? Really? Geez, all this time I thought I had exclusive rights… j-k. I don't own the plot bunnies used to create this fics, either. All of the credit goes to Skyfire. Read her fics. She's funny. I hope she appreciates that I'm plugging for her, here…

Today's Plot bunny: Merry is chased by a clumsy Elf-lord while in Bree.

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Merry and Pippin stumbled out of the Prancing Pony. Both were quite pleasantly drunk- with just the right amount of fuzziness to reassure them that, in the morning, they would have smashing headaches.

"I really- hic!- like that ale, don't you, Merry?" Pippin asked, leaning drunkenly against his friend for support.


Merry, who was quite, though not as, drunk as his cousin, was not a very good support. "It's great, 'specially this stuff from Breeeeeeee," The Hobbit agreed, clapping his companion on the shoulder.

Just then, a tall, dark figure walked up to him. He was the very embodiment of grace. With long, lanky limbs, pale features, and bright eyes, it was obviously to all that he was an Elf, and not just any Elf… an Elf-lord!

The very air quivered and scurried aside as he approached.

Merry and Pippin looked up in surprise as the unidentified Elf-lord approached. "Meriadoc Brandybuck, you can escape your punishment no longer! I have at last come to make you pay for your crimes!"

"My… crimes?" Merry asked, looking clueless.

Pippin glared, slightly cross-eyed at his friend. In a drunken slur, he asked, "What'd'ya do NOW, M-m… what was your name again?"

The Elf-lord started towards him. "Do not play innocent with me!" He roared.

He stepped on the blade of a rake. With the perfection of a well-timed slapstick routine, the handle of the rake snapped up and caught the Elf in the face.

"Ow!" The Elf yelped, from his new position flat-out on the ground.


"Let's get out of here!" Merry exclaimed. He started to run, but only managed to zigzag drunkenly across the road.

"Don't… shout so loud…" Pippin protested. "It hurts my head…"

Merry saw that his cousin was obviously not going to be any help.

The Elf-Lord stood, looking severely angry, now. He started towards the staggering Hobbit. "Do not try to escape! I have chased down the stars from their high heaven! I have felled a Balrog with a single blow! I have-" He tripped over a wheel laid against the wall of the building next to him, and landed flat on his face.

"-gotten hit over the head a few too many times, I'd warrant." Merry muttered.

Of course, the Elf-lord heard that, and leaped to his feet, fair face contorted in uncustomary rage. "YOU SHALL DIE FOR THAT!" He exclaimed, drawing his sword.

He took one step forward, and seemed to reconsider. He sheathed his sword. "No…" He thought aloud. "We all remember what happened LAST time…"

"What happened last time?" Pippin asked brightly, then winced, for it hurt his head.

"I don't want to talk about it…" The Elven lord said somewhat quietly, then looked up, his bright eyes burning with a eerie glow. "Back to YOU Hobbit!" He shouted at Merry.

"What'd I do wrong, anyway?" Merry asked, terrified, trying, unsuccessfully, to back and disappear into the side of a building.

"What did you do wrong? What did you do WRONG?" The Elf-Lord roared.

"Yeah… that's… what I asked." Merry replied a little too worried, scared, and drunk to realize that he was only digging himself in deeper.

"AUGH!" The Elf-Lord roared, leaping at Merry, fair, thin hands curled into horrible claws.

Merry ducked. The graceful Elf-lord ran headlong into the wall.

He slumped to the ground, mumbling incoherent things in Quendi.

"Come on, Pip… let's get out of here before he wakes up." Merry said, dragging his drunk friend down the street.


"STOP SHOUTING AT ME! IT HURTS!" Pippin screamed, clutching at his ringing head.

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Oboebyrd: Yeah! That was fun… As always, visit http://www.geocities.com/rabid_plotbunny/ to get some plot bunnies of your very own…