"Freydia! Get away from the cheese!"

The little blonde girl with the smudged face looked up, and then scampered away, but not before taking another handful of the cheddar cubes.

Isilhén sighed. The guests would be coming any minute, and the food was rapidly disappearing into Freydia's mouth, especially the cheese.

The king of Rohan had graciously agreed to let her use his hall for her New Years Eve party. She would've held it at Rivendell, but then a visit from K-rond was almost assured.

Isilhén took one last glance around the hall. Long tables laden with food lined the side walls, and chairs were strategically placed around the room. A stage with a curtained backdrop had been set up in front of the dais partly to discourage anyone from sitting on the throne. The ceiling and pillars had been strung with white Christmas lights.

"They're here!" Freydia sang.

As if on cue, guests began pouring through the door.

The hobbits came first, having all come together.

"Hey, Isilhén!" Merry said. "Like what you've done with the place!"

"Food!" Hunter cried.

"No, wait, Hunter!" Isilhén charged after him, but had to stop to greet more guests. Megwen had arrived with Aragorn.

"Hi, Megwen!"

"Hello, Isilhén," she said. "Oh, look! Hobbits!"

"Gaah! Stay away!" Wil cried.

"All right! Let's get this party started!"

Isilhén turned to see Legolson coming in.

"Hey, where's the band?" he asked.

"They haven't come yet."

Suddenly, the door flew open, and a blazing white figure strode in, holding one of those old, tall, wooden stools.

Unfazed, Isilhén greeted him.

"Andyalf! I'm glad you could—"

"Hey, you little munchkin! Give me back my cheese!"

Isilhén turned around.

"Freydia! Leave Hunter alone!"

"Hhelllooo!!!"

Isilhén turned again to see a tall blonde come in. Her short spikey hair had a lock of pink at the forehead, and she trailed glitter like Pigpen trails dirt.

"Raeowyn! Hhelllooo! It's good to see you!"

"Well, it is my home, after all…"

Behind Raeowyn, a girl looking suspiciously like Megwen, only without the pointy ears, entered.

"Maranwé! How are you?" Isilhén said. "Long time, no see."

"Oh, you know how it is."

"How's your horse?"

"Quite well," Maranwé said.

"Fireworks! Fireworks!" the hobbits chanted.

"Uh, oh…" Isilhén made her way across the hall. "What is going on here?"

Andyalf quickly hid a large firecracker behind his back.

"Nothing."

"Andyalf—"

"Hey, loser! Don't you even greet your guests?"

Isilhén turned back to the door.

"Rioni! You made it!"

"Of course I did," she said. "You didn't really think I'd miss a party, did you?"

"Isilhén, who's this?" Raeowyn wandered over with a glass of punch.

"This is Rioni Riishu, my bestest friendest in the entirest worldest. Rioni, this is my hairdresser, Raeowyn."

Just then, a voice echoed through everyone's minds. I am here!

"G-bird! I told you not to do that!" Isilhén called, stomping towards the door.

"Sorry." The elf stepped inside, followed by Celeborn.

"Hey, there's a mushroom on the ceiling!" Rioni cried.

"What? Where, where?" The hobbits clambered over to her, pushing each other and tripping over their own feet. "I want it!"

"It's only a paper decoration!" Isilhén told them.

"Sorry I'm late!" The spunky little dwarf skipped in. "I couldn't find my tuba for a while." She lifted the gigantic instrument a few inches.

"How could you lose a tuba?" Megwen asked.

As Isilhén looked around, a girl with spikey blue anime hair with a shimmery white lock at her forehead stepped in.

"Jete! What are you doing here?" Isilhén asked.

"Well, it was getting kinda boring in that other story, and I heard you were having a party."

"You weren't invited."

Jete narrowed her eyes.

"You aren't going to throw me out, are you?"

Isilhén sighed.

"No, I guess not."

"Great! Come in, guys!"

"Hey, wait!" Isilhén protested. "I thought it was just you!… is Gaib here?"

"Nope," Iddo said as he walked in, Cheeseball perched on his shoulder. "He's tied up in Florgurl's fic. It's just us there."

"Dorc!" Aragorn shouted at the other side of the room.

"Hey! Don't call names!" a voice said.

Aragorn drew his sword.

'Oh, no," Isilhén raced to his side and snatched the sword from his hand. Before him cowered a young dorc with a pile of cookies on a napkin.

"That's Max, the dancing dorc boy. He's not bad," Isilhén explained.

"Hey, I'm not Max! I'm Maks!" the dorc said.

"Fine, fine, whatever. It sounds the same. Where's the band, Maks?"

Maks shrugged.

"They got a better gig."

"Oh, well, that's nice," Isilhén muttered.

"No band? That's all right. I'm here!" Faramir stepped through the door holding his guitar aloft. His mop of curly blond hair fell in his eyes as he grinned at the crowd. Behind him, his shorter brother came in carrying a bottle in each hand.

"I brought the champagne!" Bobomir said.

"No, nonono." Isilhén pushed him back out the door. "No alcohol." She gestured over to where the hobbits had improvised a game of limbo. "You don't want them near champagne. Trust me, you don't. … Hey, you're supposed to be dead!"

"Andyalf's here!"

CRASH!

"It wasn't me, I didn't do it!"

"Oh, dear." Isilhén decided not to go investigate. Instead, she scanned the room to see what her guests were doing.

Maks had joined the limbo line, and at the table next to them, Andyalf sat on his stool guzzling Pepsi.

Maranwé and Megwen stood chatting a little ways away.

"You are so cool, Megwen."

"No, you are, Maranwé."

"No, You're cooler."

"You are."

"We both are. Hug!"

They moved to hug each other, but backed off at the last moment.

"Six inches!" They cried simultaneously.

Freydia was chasing Cheeseball around the room, and Iddo was limping out of the room. Something had made the poor guy break out in orange and yellow spots.

"Oh, I love the hair!" Raeowyn cried, as she rushed over to Jete. "Isilhén! Get a picture of us!"

The two spikey haired girls posed as the camera flashed.

On the stage, Legolson and Faramir were trying to assemble a band.

"Ok, who here plays an instrument?" Faramir asked.

"Ooh, ooh, mee!" Ilmig waved her hand.

Aragorn's hand went up.

"What do you play?" Celeborn asked him.

"Flute."

"French horn!" Maks called.

"Umm… Well, maybe some other time, guys," Legolson said. "All right, Faramir. Let's get down with our bad selves!"

They began "jamming," if that's what you can call it, and Rioni ran over to Isilhén.

"Come on, ojesan! You have to sing with me!"

"Oh, I don't want to…"

"Come on!" Rioni dragged her toward the stage, but Isilhén tripped over a chair.

"Watch out, Gracie," her friend said. "The chairs like to ambush you."

Once on stage, they began to sing to Legolson and Faramir's tuneless strumming, switching arbitrarily from song to song.

At one point, Ilmig interrupted them.

"Tuba solo!"

She began playing the chicken dance song, until the guitars drowned her out.

"Hey, everyone!" Rosie yelled, "Thirteen seconds!"

All heads turned to the large clock rapidly counting down to midnight.

"Ten!" Rosie yelled.

"Nine!" The others took up the chant.

"Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!"