To make the arduous work of coordinating the party just a little bit
easier, the Fellowship split up party planning duties. Merry and Pippin
were in charge of the eats, Sam would hire musicians, and Legolas and Gimli
were responsible for finding the dancers. Since Frodo was still downstairs
in a huff, the other hobbits decided to let him and Sam be in charge of
drinks. "Hey, what can I say? The guy knows his booze," Merry remarked.
Shortly after the planning session, Legolas and Gimli set out on their errand. As they strolled through the paved streets of Minas Tirith, the dwarf began to feel a little uncertain. "Um, Legolas?"
"Yes, my vertically challenged friend?" Legolas turned and looked down at the dwarf, but didn't stop walking.
Gimli frowned. "Are you sure you know where to find these dancing girls? You don't need to feel proud about asking me for help, you know. It's OK if you don't hang around those kind of places much, I just don't want ugly strippers at Aragorn's party."
Legolas threw his head back and laughed. "Ah, Gimli, how little you know about the secret lives of elves!" He ducked down a darkened alley, the dwarf at his heels. "I'm really hurt that you think I don't know where to get booty."
Gimli cleared his throat. "Well, uh, you know how that barracks talk goes…"
The Elf rolled his eyes dramatically. "For the last time, Gimli, I am NOT gay. And I have a perfectly normal sex drive for a male elf." He winked suggestively at his companion as he knocked on an ordinary looking door. "I have some friends in here I want you to meet…"
An hour later, Gimli stumbled dazedly out of the alley with six very scantily clad girls in tow. Legolas had four girls on each arm and was very happy about the way things had turned out. "Hey, relax," he simpered, "there's plenty of elf to go around, sweethearts. I just want you to come down to the palace and meet my buddy Aragorn, and maybe we could play a few games, and you could dance for us!"
"That sounds lovely, Leggy baby," breathed a chesty blonde into Legolas's right ear. "We sure do love to play games…"
A brunette holding Gimli's hand turned around and smiled lustily at the elf. "Why didn't you let us meet your friend before, baby?" She pinned her eyes on the region of Gimli's belt line. "I just love his nice, big…ax."
Gimli was in a complete daze. All he knew for certain at the moment was that dwarf women had NOTHING on these girls…
Meanwhile, Sam and Frodo were sampling the vintage at a wine merchant's shop. "Hmmm," Sam mumbled, "I really like this Dol Amroth red." He was on his third glass and wasn't speaking all that clearly. "Frodo? I say fifty barrels of this."
"All the barrels of that you want," Frodo called from the back of the shop as the rotund wine merchant grinned down at Sam. "I've got something else in mind. The REAL deal."
Sam dashed to the back of the shop, where Frodo stood blissfully gazing up at a shelf. "No, Frodo! Do you have any idea how sick that stuff makes you? I'm not cleaning up your vomit this time around, no way."
Frodo plucked a bottle from the shelf as if it were a golden fruit. "Elven Moonshine, how I adore this golden elixir," he crooned as he cradled the bottle in his arms. He turned to Sam. "You shouldn't worry about me, pal. I have the best head for liquor in the Shire. I know when to stop, okay?"
Sam rolled his eyes and groaned. "Frodo, *elves* get wasted on that stuff. Do you know what that means?"
Frodo didn't reply. He was too busy gazing blissfully at the hundreds of bottles of Elven Moonshine sitting on the shelves, just begging to be consumed.
"I've never seen a drunken Elf, and that means this poison's too strong for you!" Sam insisted, tugging at his friend's arm. "Come on, just the fifty barrels of wine, okay?"
Frodo shook his head. "We're both in charge of the drinks, and if you can get fifty barrels of wine, I can get a hundred bottles of Elven Moonshine. We're not leaving the store until I do, either!"
Sam sighed and called out to the wine merchant. "All right, my good man, fifty barrels of Dol Amroth red, and one hundred bottles of this here Elven Moonshine…" The wine merchant smiled hugely as Frodo cradled his precious bottle.
Shortly after the planning session, Legolas and Gimli set out on their errand. As they strolled through the paved streets of Minas Tirith, the dwarf began to feel a little uncertain. "Um, Legolas?"
"Yes, my vertically challenged friend?" Legolas turned and looked down at the dwarf, but didn't stop walking.
Gimli frowned. "Are you sure you know where to find these dancing girls? You don't need to feel proud about asking me for help, you know. It's OK if you don't hang around those kind of places much, I just don't want ugly strippers at Aragorn's party."
Legolas threw his head back and laughed. "Ah, Gimli, how little you know about the secret lives of elves!" He ducked down a darkened alley, the dwarf at his heels. "I'm really hurt that you think I don't know where to get booty."
Gimli cleared his throat. "Well, uh, you know how that barracks talk goes…"
The Elf rolled his eyes dramatically. "For the last time, Gimli, I am NOT gay. And I have a perfectly normal sex drive for a male elf." He winked suggestively at his companion as he knocked on an ordinary looking door. "I have some friends in here I want you to meet…"
An hour later, Gimli stumbled dazedly out of the alley with six very scantily clad girls in tow. Legolas had four girls on each arm and was very happy about the way things had turned out. "Hey, relax," he simpered, "there's plenty of elf to go around, sweethearts. I just want you to come down to the palace and meet my buddy Aragorn, and maybe we could play a few games, and you could dance for us!"
"That sounds lovely, Leggy baby," breathed a chesty blonde into Legolas's right ear. "We sure do love to play games…"
A brunette holding Gimli's hand turned around and smiled lustily at the elf. "Why didn't you let us meet your friend before, baby?" She pinned her eyes on the region of Gimli's belt line. "I just love his nice, big…ax."
Gimli was in a complete daze. All he knew for certain at the moment was that dwarf women had NOTHING on these girls…
Meanwhile, Sam and Frodo were sampling the vintage at a wine merchant's shop. "Hmmm," Sam mumbled, "I really like this Dol Amroth red." He was on his third glass and wasn't speaking all that clearly. "Frodo? I say fifty barrels of this."
"All the barrels of that you want," Frodo called from the back of the shop as the rotund wine merchant grinned down at Sam. "I've got something else in mind. The REAL deal."
Sam dashed to the back of the shop, where Frodo stood blissfully gazing up at a shelf. "No, Frodo! Do you have any idea how sick that stuff makes you? I'm not cleaning up your vomit this time around, no way."
Frodo plucked a bottle from the shelf as if it were a golden fruit. "Elven Moonshine, how I adore this golden elixir," he crooned as he cradled the bottle in his arms. He turned to Sam. "You shouldn't worry about me, pal. I have the best head for liquor in the Shire. I know when to stop, okay?"
Sam rolled his eyes and groaned. "Frodo, *elves* get wasted on that stuff. Do you know what that means?"
Frodo didn't reply. He was too busy gazing blissfully at the hundreds of bottles of Elven Moonshine sitting on the shelves, just begging to be consumed.
"I've never seen a drunken Elf, and that means this poison's too strong for you!" Sam insisted, tugging at his friend's arm. "Come on, just the fifty barrels of wine, okay?"
Frodo shook his head. "We're both in charge of the drinks, and if you can get fifty barrels of wine, I can get a hundred bottles of Elven Moonshine. We're not leaving the store until I do, either!"
Sam sighed and called out to the wine merchant. "All right, my good man, fifty barrels of Dol Amroth red, and one hundred bottles of this here Elven Moonshine…" The wine merchant smiled hugely as Frodo cradled his precious bottle.