Disclaimer: Same as before, I don't own anything...
Chapter Eight
There was a massive party to celebrate the end of Faramir's vomiting in the principal's office, where everyone's main objective was to get as drunk as they could. They found stacks upon stacks of illegal beer in a spare staffroom, probably owned by alcoholics who had bought them off the Internet.
"Three cheers for Faramir!" yelled Eowyn, holding up her fifth bottle of beer. Everyone else held up theirs and they congratulated Faramir for what seemed like the hundredth time.
"Hic, sorry, I think I've had, hic, a bit too much to, hic, drink,' slurred Haldir.
"Yes, as if drinking almost two crates of vodka wasn't enough,' scowled Galadriel, the only person in the room who remained sane enough to stand upright on two feet.
Haldir shrugged pathetically and finished another bottle.
"Nothing else to do..."
"But drinking more isn't going to help either!" she shouted angrily. Her supposedly cool, calm and composed Marchwarden had been acting very out of sorts today. First he became very involved in a conversation with a talking bucket, and now he was out cold on the floor, asleep because he was so drunk!
Well, you learn something new everyday, she thought to herself. So she left Haldir face-down on the floor and went over to join her husband, Celeborn, in a drinking game with Legolas and Gimli, their favourite past-time.
"Hey dude, you know what?" Aragorn happily asked Boromir, ecstatic now that he could finally indulge in free beer. The talking bucket was now perched on top of his head.
"What?" was all Boromir managed to ask.
"I'm happy," Aragorn announced cheerfully.
"Right..." Boromir muttered and slowly edged away while Aragorn turned to Galadriel and told her that he felt so gay he wanted to put on a pink shirt and dance around holding hands with everyone.
Galadriel gave him the evil eye and turned green and ghostly.
Aragorn shut up after that.
His grandmother-in-law was very intimidating at times.
Sorry, very short...I know...