“Nothing to do in these stinking woods,” grumbled Gimli, kicking stones in his path and swinging at branches that came in his way. He abruptly stopped as he sighted a pair of elves ahead and turned to leave.
“Gimli! Come here, my friend!” shouted the voice of Legolas from ahead. Sighing, Gimli turned back, in time to see the elf next to him attempt to silence Legolas before the dwarf could respond. He had failed, and was now trying to look quite unconcerned about the situation. If he’d thought to be courteous, Gimli would have turned back and headed right ‘round to the pavilion again, but when he saw who the other elf was, he decided it would be more fun to stay and upset the other elf.
“Master Legolas.” Gimli bowed his head when he had come to a stop where the two elves sat. “Elf,” he merely mumbled, giving a shrug in the direction of the figure cloaked in grey and burgundy.
“Dwarf,” snorted Haldir under his breath, obviously not pleased to see him again.
“Come now, sit, Gimli!” encouraged Legolas, thumping the ground beside him with his open hand. The other held a brass goblet, a wine bottle at his feet. Legolas appeared to have not noticed the exchange between the two, though it was blatantly obvious someone may have lost a head had he not been there.
Gimli frowned, unsure of whether it was such a good idea or not, but Haldir’s scowl convinced him to sit.
“There we are.” Legolas rummaged in the small pack in front of him and pulled out a third goblet, for both he and Haldir had glasses of their own. “This is a most excellent opportunity,” began Legolas, pouring a third glass of the wine, then leveling off both his and Haldir’s, “for now, just before we depart upon our journey once more, I have the chance to share a drink with my two greatest friends – my oldest and dearest elf companion, and my fellow fighter and adventurer in the fellowship.”
“You call him a friend?!” came the response from both dwarf and elf, each of them recoiling in distaste. Legolas’ brow furrowed.
“Though, I suppose a group hug would be out of the question.” He smiled ruefully, passing the newly filled goblet from Gimli, only to pull it back. “How foolish of me – I can not let you drink this. I shall see if I can find something more suitable.”
“Why can’t I drink it? I’m quite the drinker, I’ll have you know! Why, at my cousin Balin’s wedding, I downed five pints in under a minute, and went on to have at least another eighteen rounds!” exclaimed the dwarf.
“This is no mere Dwarven ale you see,” warned Legolas. “It is a fey wine, a rare brew of the elves, and this you will find to be a very potent type found only here in Lorien.”
“Ah! I’ve heard of such a thing before, Master Legolas! I have been most interested in trying the drink!” Gimli reached for the goblet. Legolas still kept the glass out of reach, but Haldir stayed the other archer’s arm so that Gimli could reach the cup.
“Let him try it, Legolas. Just a sip should not affect him – he’s quite a sturdy fellow, at that,” advised Haldir.
Legolas bit his lip, but gave in. “Who am I to argue among friends.” He raised his own goblet. “To friends.”
“To friends,” they both chanted, then all three drank the entirety of their cups.
Blue Ribbon by Zhie