AN: I am so sorry for not updating sooner! But, for Christmas, that should all change! I am going to update more regularly, and stick to it. If not, feel free to PM me and yell at me.

Thank you for all the support this story has, I hope you enjoy Chapter 29!

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The Festivities

The ride back to Edoras had been tense and silent, no one willing to discuss the words traded or promises made. Breaks were short, and the riding was hard and Rosalie would fidget in her saddle every few minutes, much to the annoyance of the dwarf riding to the side of her.

The mood at Meduseld was dark and low, and the moment Rosalie dismounted, she was whisked away by a familiar blonde noblewoman. Éowyn refused to listen to her complaints as she dragged the blue-haired girl from her friends, Legolas and Gimli joining forces to wave at her mockingly as she left. Hey, you two are meant to be on my side! Even Merry and Pippin sniggered and followed their examples.

Éowyn took her into a large bedroom, sitting her down in front of a vanity dresser. She sent the girl an apologetic look, but Rosalie glared at her through the mirror. "Sorry," she apologised, but Rosalie just shook her head.

"Why did you drag me in here?" Rosalie asked, and Éowyn picked up a golden hairbrush, twirling it in her hands.

"I think you know," She said, and gently ran the brush through the blue strands in front of her. Rosalie jerked forward, pulling her hair forward and around her neck. Éowyn gave her a look, something that made the girl return to the original position even if she was sulking a little. "There is a feast tonight, so I have tasked myself with making you presentable." The noblewoman informed her.

Rosalie smirked, "Wow Éowyn, you always know what to say to make me feel better." The girl said sarcastically and was rewarded with a small smile and a sharper tug on her hair.

Théoden stepped forward, and the hall went still. Silently, he raised his glass. "Tonight, we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country. Hail the victorious dead." In unison, around the hall, glasses and mugs rose for the toast. Around her, men put their cups to their lips, but Rosalie hesitated first, staring into the swirling depths before chugging it down.

Rosalie and Éowyn weren't late, so much as on time. If on time meant just as the hall was filling, doors thrown open to accommodate as many people as possible. While the noblewoman had a place at the high table, Rosalie's position wasn't as stable, meaning the blonde had to leave her alone in a foreign mass of bodies, without the familiar protection of friends. The girl had held her head high, trying her hardest to mask the anxiety inside, and had immediately brightened when she had caught sight of Aragorn. Though she wasn't the only one.

Éowyn held out a giant cup for him, murmuring something to the ranger, but Rosalie was too far away to hear. Aragorn hesitated for a few seconds before lifting the rim to his lips, taking a sip of whatever was inside it.

She felt bad for the noblewoman, she really did. She understood how it felt when your crush was near, when he paid you any attention, no matter how little, how you could be blind to how he felt towards you. Maybe it was because she had travelled with him, and so knew him quite well, Rosalie knew his heart wouldn't and couldn't belong to Éowyn the way hers, at the moment, belonged to him.

Apparently, Aragorn understood this as he gave the cup back to Éowyn and began to talk quietly to the blonde noblewoman. And, from the way her face dropped, Rosalie could guess what subject they were discussing. She panicked – what should she do? They're both my friends, do I take a side? Or stay out of it and show sympathy to both? I'm so glad Zeke and Abby never dated. Rosalie shook her head, looking around for any familiar faces.

Rosalie didn't feel comfortable here. Éowyn had put her into a nice pale dress; it wasn't something she would normally wear, instead something she would find pretty and admire in a shop, but certainly not what she would buy for herself. It was light and breezy and strangely casual, closer to something she might've found in Abby's wardrobe than in the closet of medieval nobility.

Across the room, two familiar heads above the rest, and it was a little unusual. Merry and Pippin were on top of a table, jumping up and down as a crowd gathered around them, cheering and shouting at them. Rosalie tried to draw closer, squeezing through the men, as the crowds seemed to be mostly male strangely enough. There were plenty of women there at the start of the evening but most went home after an hour or so, a couple dragging tipsy husbands with them. But they stayed in great big groups, intimidating circles that the girl dared not approach. A few grumbled as she tried to push through them, forcing her to find another way around but others let her pass thankfully. When she got closer, she realised that they were jumping in time, and they began to chant together:

You can search far and wide; you can drink the whole town dry;

But you'll never find a beer so brown; but you'll never find a beer so brown;

As the one we drink in our home town; as the one we drink in our home town;

The duo began a jig of sorts, and Rosalie turned at the booming laughter of a wizard. Gandalf clapped along to the beat, and the blue-haired girl squeezed through a group of slightly tipsy humans to reach him. Merry and Pippin were still dancing, kicking their feet in time, looking a little like Irish dancers. Rosalie smiled, watching them, as the contents of their wooden flagons sloshed on the table around their feet. Men were sat around them, banging their own pitchers on the table, laughing at the Hobbits' antics.

You can drink your fancy ales; you can drink 'em by the flagon;

But the only drink for the brave and true... comes from the Green Dragon!

They jumped in the air, turning to each other, clinking their drinks together and chugging them down to raucous laughter. The girl smirked, but jumped about a foot in the air when Aragorn melted out of the crowds behind her. The ranger smiled at her before growing serious and turning to Gandalf.

"No news of Frodo?" Aragorn asked quietly, and Rosalie stiffened. The smile melted from the white wizard's face and he chewed on his lip. The girl sighed mentally. Nice way to ruin a party Aragorn, she grumbled, but she knew it wasn't his fault. They were all worried about their little companion, and their friend Sam. And they certainly shouldn't be partying and drinking while their friends were still in danger.

"No word. Nothing," Gandalf said bitterly, refusing to look at the ranger, keeping his blue eyes trained on the two Hobbits. Merry and Pippin were still dancing around on the table, giggling and drinking, though their moves had become more sloppy as they staggered over their makeshift stage.

Aragorn shrugged. "We have time." He murmured, but Gandalf looked unconvinced. "Every day, Frodo moves closer to Mordor." Rosalie gulped. Frodo, Sam and their trek to Mount Doom seemed to be an unconscious taboo subject; whenever it was brought up, Aragorn would shake his head, and Gandalf would chew on his pipe silently. Gimli would sulk then try and change the topic, aided by the Hobbits. Legolas would just be Legolas, and stare off into space.

"Do we know that?" Gandalf whispered hoarsely. Rosalie was stood next to him, and even she struggled to hear him in the noisy halls. The two men still weren't looking at each other, but the girl kept darting glances at the pair of them. Those words shook her – if Gandalf was losing hope, what chance did they have? No, don't think like that, she thought desperately. We have to keep faith, she chanted, closing her eyes.

Aragorn looked at the wizard strangely. "What does your heart tell you?" He questioned, and Rosalie opened her eyes. Gandalf paused.

"That Frodo is alive," He murmured quietly, but gained conviction. "Yes, yes he's alive." Laughter broke out from a small group further away, and Rosalie jumped. She glared at them for a few seconds, but caught herself. It wasn't their fault; they were having fun, celebrating the fact that they were still alive – she was the one bringing the mood down, not them. But it was a wakeup call for the wizard. Gandalf straightened, pushing his shoulders back, the frown melting from his face. Looks, like this conversation is over, Rosalie thought, watching Aragorn go through a similar transformation.

The two men walked away in opposite directions, leaving the girl alone in an alien environment. Knowing the thought was stupid, she squirmed anyway under the non-existent gazes of the men around her. So she started walking as well, not the same confident strides both the ranger and the wizard used, but instead weaving her way through men and soldiers until she found a familiar face.

Éomer was pouring ale from a barrel, stoppering it when he'd finished, a dwarf and an elf bickering behind him. Rosalie smiled, listening into their conversation.

"I am sure, without a doubt I can beat ye!" Gimli boasted, and Rosalie stepped forward before leaning back against a pillar close to the table. Legolas raised an eyebrow in a silent challenge before staring down at the table. The dwarf sat down heavily.

"What are you two doing?" Rosalie asked suspiciously, and two heads snapped around at her voice. Do I really have that much power of them? She thought proudly, and smirked to herself. Gimli grinned at her, or at least his beard moved so she thought he was smiling, while Legolas' eyes widened, looking her up and down. The girl squirmed under his gaze, and looked away.

The elf cleared his throat, and turned back to Éomer. "So it is a drinking game?" He asked eyeing the drinks being laid on the table, and the blonde prince nodded, a smile tugging at his lips as he glanced between the elf and the dwarf.

"A drinking game?" Rosalie repeated dubiously. Seriously? Then again, watching Legolas get plastered would be hilarious – can elves even get drunk? Around her, the men had started placing bets on the two contestants, as another rushed to help the leader of the Rohirrim with preparing drinks.

Gimli rubbed his hands together in glee. Éomer handed them both their first flagon. "No pauses. No spills," He instructed and Gimli laughed manically.

"And no regurgitation!" The dwarf growled out and Rosalie's nose crinkled. Ewwww... "Last one standing wins." The dwarf laughed again before raising the up to his lips and chugged it down enthusiastically. Legolas hesitated for a moment, staring down at the drink in his hand before spying the dwarf and then in turn, raised his glass.

The drinks and the ale kept coming, and soon it became clear both dwarves and elves could hold their alcohol better than any humans. Men were still waiting for one to give, a few moving on to other conversations and refreshing drinks or plates. Rosalie was still stood by the pillar, back pressing uncomfortably into the carvings, eyes flicking from her nails to her friends.

Flagons started to pile up, but Éomer let the drinks keep coming. The red-haired dwarf finished his mug and let out a belch and a bellow of gravelly laughter. Rosalie closed her eyes and tried to swallow back the vomit. While some of the men laughed with Gimli, the blonde man shook his head and narrowed his eyes in disgust. Legolas just ignored it, casting the dwarf a sideways glance before looking quickly over at Rosalie and finishing off his own drink, congratulating himself in a much more delicate way than Gimli did.

Éomer passed him another drink, and Legolas began to swallow, tipping his head back and Rosalie looked away. You perv! Don't think like that about him! He's your friend first idiot! She blushed and shook her head free of her thoughts. Suddenly, the dwarf began to hit the table violently with his empty cup, the metal echoing dully, leaving faint white scars on the lacquered wood below.

He started giggling crazily, his eyes glinting in the fogginess the alcohol had caused. Guess this won't last much longer, Rosalie thought happily. As much fun as the prospect had sounded, getting either of them drunk had lost most of its appeal to her by now. "It is dwarves who go swimming with haired naked woman," He giggled as he spoke, and the girl and the elf looked at him like he was crazy.

Legolas reached for a new flagon, but drew his hand back sharply. He held out his hand in front of him, frowning as he wiggled his fingers experimentally. "There is a tingling sensation in my fingers," he murmured, flexing his hand again while Rosalie raised an eyebrow. Really? Fifteen glasses and you tingle? How much can you drink? Legolas looked back at her seriously. "I think the drink is starting to affect me."

The girl snickered at his serious words, and almost panic in his voice. Gimli cackled drunkenly. "Whad I say?" His words slurred together in an unrecognisable jumble. "'E can't old h's liqueur..." The dwarf trailed off, face freezing as he fell backwards off his stool. Legolas watched him go before looking up at Éomer.

"Game over."

Never thought in a million years I would be tucking a dwarf into bed. I feel a little bit like Snow White, the girl thought, pulling a blanket over a snoring Gimli. After their childish contest and money had exchanged hands, some men happier than others, the dwarf hadn't woken and Rosalie felt bad leaving him there. Plus, she didn't want to deal with Grumpy the Dwarf when he woke up on the floor, fingers trampled, and stains on his shirt and an aching back.

Roping Legolas into helping her had been easier than she expected. Maybe he is drunk... She mused, as the elf heaved and lifted Gimli up and off the ground. The girl trailed after his powerful strides as he created a path through the masses, carrying the dwarf like it was nothing. And she definitely knew that after one eventful training session in Lothlórien, Gimli did not weigh nothing. Far from it.

The outside world was dark and murky and mysterious, inky blue skies studded like diamond stars. It was quieter and deliciously cool as Rosalie shivered, grateful for the change from the stifling atmosphere inside. She walked over to the edge of the walkway outside Meduseld, staring down at the sprawling town below, and tried to gracefully sit, rearranging and straightening her dress skirt around her, tapping her foot against the rock gently. The elf sat down next to her, a deep blue cloak around his shoulders and he held another out for her which she gratefully took. The pair waited in companionable silence for conversation to flow, the tension inside the girl beginning to rise, even if Legolas didn't know.

"We have not talked about what happened in Helm's Deep," he murmured quietly, and beside him, she stiffened, not daring to glance at him. God, you're going to bring that up now?! She wanted to scream at him. "Actually, what almost happened," Legolas corrected himself.

"Is that tingling sensation in your fingers also in your head Legolas?" She asked, the joke too strained and weak to be funny, but the elf smiled half-heartedly anyway.

"No, but everything feels off," He frowned at his own words. "I know what is happening around me, and all the problems facing us, but I feel like... I do not mind as much as I know I should." His eyes never left hers, blue swirling storms and Rosalie felt heat rising inside her and glanced away, breaking the connection.

"Welcome to the world of being drunk. Or, at least tipsy." She said smiling. They were silent for a few seconds.

"You are very good at evading my questions." The elf observed, both turning to stare up at the sky. Rosalie ran her fingers through the silky material around her shoulders.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It was simply a statement," He murmured quietly again, leaning slightly towards her.

"A complimentary statement," She mumbled, transfixed by the decreasing space between them. She gulped, the motion drawing his eyes down to her neck. This is the booze talking. The booze is telling you to lean forward as well. She obeyed the 'booze'. You know what to do, the 'booze' commanded her. It's probably controlling him as well.

Something slammed, and they both jumped. So close, the 'booze' moaned sadly. Legolas stood up, Rosalie craning her neck to look up at him, but he refused to look down at her. Footsteps echoed, and a ranger stopped on the other side of Legolas. The girl peeked around the elf to smile in greeting at him. Says a lot that Aragorn isn't questioning me about why I'm sat on the ground like a lemon, she thought humourlessly.

Legolas sighed almost imperceptibly through his nose, and the girl looked back up at him, though again he avoided her eye. He simply stared out onto the darkened horizon, the line between land and sky blurred in the darkness. "The stars are veiled." Legolas whispered, and she frowned at him. What are you talking about? I can see them fine. Or are you being metaphorical and clever? The elf didn't hear any of her mental debate.

"Something stirs in the East - a sleepless malice." He continued, leaning forward and Aragorn glanced at him cautiously. Rosalie bit her lip worriedly. "The eye of the enemy is moving."

Rosalie froze on her stone perch, ice slipping down her spine. "What?" She echoed, voicing the look on the ranger's face.

Legolas turned to Aragorn sharply, obscuring the girl's view of his face and Aragorn's. "He is here." He whispered hoarsely. A silent exchange passed between the elf and the ranger before Aragorn spun around, running down a corridor, bursting through a couple close to the main doors. The elf followed swiftly after him, never looking back at the girl, leaving her there alone in the darkness, the deep baritone ocean of chatter streaming from doors and windows thrown open, but nothing for her.