Chapter soundtrack: 'Raise Your Glass' by
P!nk.

† Chp. V †

___

I walk down the darkened halls of Rivendell, adding a skip to my step as I head towards the ballroom.

Funny, right?

The most infamous outlaw, someone in which everyone high class seems to hate, walking freely down the corridors in one of Middle Earths richest elven kingdoms.

Even funnier, the fact that I have been invited to a celebration in one of Middle Earths richest elven kingdoms.

Who would've known, eh?

It has been decided that tonight there will be a farewell party for the departure of the fellowship. And yours truely, as being one tenth of that entrusted posse, has been invited.

My leather boots squeak as I stride down the dull lit hall, cutting through the still silence.

Suddenly, my course is changed as I feel my body being grabbed and dragged into one of the rooms in which line the corridor. I tear my arms free of their grasp, and using my reflexes, swing around to deliver a hard hit to their face.

A loud thud fills the air, and my eyes widen as I slowly draw my fist back, viewing who I have just hammered.

An elleth stares back at me with shock, her hand flying up to cover her instantly swelling eye. Another dark brunette stands to her side, her mouth hanging agape in confusion by the whole ordeal. Viewing their outfits, I identity that they are maids.

"You should never startle a ninja." I quote, trying to lighten the mood, but they both leer at me, clearly unimpressed.

The uninjured elleth grabs my arm, pulling me towards a bath tub which sits in the middle of the room. I notice that it is full of slightly steaming water, accompanied by clads of soft bubbles.

"What, now you're going to drown me?" I remark.

"Lord Elrond ordered that we bath you and get you clean for tonight's party, along with your departure in the morning." Black eye states, attitude laced in her tone. "I can see why, you stink. And I've never seen hair so greasy."

Jeez, all I did was almost concave her face.

"I'm a human." I retort, chuckling. "I apologise that my hair cannot be not as majestically perfect as yours"

The next half hour consists of myself laying naked in a bath tub, with two elleths scrubbing aggressively at my shampoo lathered locks. I would like to say it was relaxing, but that would be a lie.

Well, at least I'm going to smell nice.

After my pampered bath sesh, I am dressed into a robe as they dry my now clean hair. Once finished, I slip into a simple silver dress that has been handed to me, and they begin to braid my straight locks.

Black eye gives me a death glare through the mirror, as she roughly twirls her fingers in my hair, and I am genuinely concerned for the safety of my scalp. But, as much as I hate to admit it, I am rather impressed by the final result.

It's pretty, but also edgy. My hair sits in a small poof at the top, which runs down into a braid, half of my locks remaining down beneath the design. Several smaller braids line the side of my head, and I quite like it. It's sturdy, which means I should be able to keep it in for awhile.

Ready to leave, I chuck my leather jacket over my bare shoulders, grab my old clothes from the floor, and stride towards the doorway. The two elleths call out, claiming that they're not finished, but I am.

I can't remember the last time I've been in a dress, but I like how loose and comfortable it feels. Quickly sprinting back to my room, I toss my clothes inside and squirm back into my boots.

A silver dress, leather jacket, and boots. Weird combination, I know, but I couldn't care less.

Finally, I find myself in the ballroom.

The place is bright, with a loud chattering filling the atmosphere. Most people are standing up and talking to their peers, while others are observing the musicians as they play classical, elegant tunes. The only excitement I feel is towards to array of food which lines the tables, and my mouth begins to water.

Deadbeat. That's all I can say.

Not that I've ever been to an elven party, but if this is what they are all like, then no wonder elves can come across as boring.

I scan the room, and a grin spreads across my face as I notice two hobbits sitting at a table which displays the most amount of food, stuffing their faces with the goods.

Weaving my way through tall bodies, I step over to the halflings, and plant myself in the chair next to Pippin.

"Robin!" He exclaims, crumbs flying from his mouth as he bites into a large pastry. "Fancy seeing you here!"

I chuckle at the hobbit and his passion to eat.

"Pippin! Didn't anyone tell you not to talk with your mouth full in front of a lady?" Merry scolds, slapping his friend over the head.

I laugh even more as Pippins face turns red, flinching under his friends hit.

Grabbing one of the amazingly cooked pastries, I take a bite, making sure to definitely talk with my mouth full.

"Yeah, has anyone taught you manners?" I state, ironically with a mouth stuffed with pastry. "Damn, this stuff is good. Goodbye robbing for riches, looks like I'm converting to stealing recipes!"

Merry and Pippin lightly chuckle, not fully understanding my joke, before they send each other a glance.

"Ey, Merry and myself could help! We're good at sneaking around." Pippin remarks in excitement. "It would be a good idea to consider recruiting people of our stalk.....sneak....stealth? Stealth!"

Merry sends his friend an unimpressed glare, and I snort.

"Oh Pip, if only it were that easy." I remark, patting his curly head. My eyes scan the room, and I notice Boromir standing in one of the corners, chatting to some elleths which quite evidently give him the fluttery eyes. I then see the rest of the fellowship sitting at an exclusive table. My gaze is particularly drawn to the titian haired dwarf, who scowls at each elf which passes.

It's time to get a real party started...

"Actually... I'll make you a deal." I grin, bringing my gaze back to the two hopeful looking hobbits. "Beat Gimli in a drinking contest, and I'll teach you all my secrets to successful stealing."

Merry and Pippin look at each other, before raising their hands to shake with mine.

"Deal."

•

~3rd persøn~

Gimli scowls down at his vegetarian bowl in disgust, as Aragorn and Legolas observe him from the other side of the circular table, large grins spread across their faces. Frodo and Sam sit between the dwarf and the elf, fiddling with their fingers in anxiety of what the next day will hold.

"Grahh, these elves I'm telling ya. Bad hospitality, no meat!" The dwarf growls, aggressively stabbing his knife into a juicy branch of broccoli.

Legolas raises an eyebrow, feeling quite offended at his statement.

"They say that greens are good for the mind." The elf remarks. "It's now clear as to why dwarves are so witless."

Gimli shoots up from his seat, not achieving much height as he does so, and slams his fists down onto the table. Sam and Frodo jump, as the room silences and all eyes avert to the dwarf.

"Why you egocentric elf, by the time this quest is over, I will have your blood on the blade of my axe!" He bellows, a wild look in his eyes.

Silence lingers as looks of shock are locked onto the vexed dwarf.

"It's alright, everyone. Just a bit of conflict." Aragorn reassures, turning in his seat to face the onlookers. "Go back to your conversations, it will soon be sorted."

The room is slowly filled with chattering once again, as everybody turns to discuss the ordeal with their peers. Aragorn turns back around, and raises his eyebrows as he observes the staring contest commencing between the elf and dwarf.

"Gimli my man! Or, uh, half man?"

The fellowship avert their stares to Robin, who approaches the still standing dwarf, two hobbits staggering behind her.

"You seem tense, maybe a little grog will help?" She remarks, wrapping her arm around the fuming dwarf, and taking a seat as she pulls him down to sit. Merry and Pippin plop themselves into the seats beside her, closing the gap and forming a full circle as Merry sits beside Aragorn.

Gimli grumbles something inaudible, and Robin grins, signalling over a waitress.

"Four mugs of your strongest beer, please." Robin orders cheerfully, and the waitress furrows her eyebrows.

"Four... you want four?" She questions, tilting her head slightly.

"Yes. Well, that is unless you guys want any?" She questions, looking at the man, elf, and two nervous hobbits which haven't made a peep since the celebration started. They each politely decline.

"Well then, four it is." Robin smiles innocently up at the waitress, and she raises her eyebrows, turning on her heels to go fetch the beverages.

Merry nudges Pippin, and he sends a questioning glance, before realising the gesture and going along with the plan.

"So, ah, hey Gimli." Pippin calls out, receiving the dwarfs attention. "I've heard that dwarves are undefeatable when it comes to a drinking contest."

Gimli sits up proudly, puffing out his chest.

"As we are."

"Well, I'd beg to differ. You see, us hobbits are extremely durable when it comes to downing pints." Pippin remarks, bobbing his head.

"As we are at winning drinking contests." Merry adds on. "You dwarves would have no chance against our chugging abilities."

Tension rises and a smirk creeps onto Robins face, as both Legolas and Aragorn raise an eyebrow, aware of what is about to go down. Frodo silently chuckles at the cheekiness of his friends, and Sam shakes his head in disapproval.

"Well is that so? Let's see then!" Gimli bellows loudly, and Robin grins in victory. "Prepare for defeat, for you have just challenged a dwarf!"

Murmurs travel around the circle, and soon four large mugs sit in front of four eager people. Gimli stares as his grog with wide eyes, impatiently awaiting the signal to start. Pippin twitches in his seat, excitement coursing through his veins. Merry glares at his mug with competition reflecting in his eyes. And Robin smiles at her beer, not being a part of the competition, just ordering one for the sake of it.

"Ready, set, go!" She calls out, and within seconds chins are tilted, and loud gulps sounded.

Robin sits back, sipping her beer as the rest of the table watches in interest. Within thirty seconds, each competitor is done. Robin orders round two.

Frodo cheers on his fellow halflings as they down their second mugs, all concerns for the next day buried beneath the hilarious diversion. He always loved the energetic aura in which the two troublemakers carry.

Round after round, the competitors keep on going, and a crowd gathers around the table. Elves, humans, and dwarves shout encouragement to the chuggers, the dwarves standing around Gimli and slamming their fists against the table with each chug.

Legolas and Aragorn sit back in their seats, amused by the ordeal, and even Sam has a smile on his face. Boromir has decided to join in on the party, as he stands with his hand on Merry's shoulder, cheering the halfling on. It's times like this when you wonder where the hell Gandalf and Elrond are, but let's just be thankful that they aren't in sight.

The atmosphere has definitely gotten rowdier.

Robin jumps up onto the table, receiving a cheer from the audience as she raises more mugs of beer in the air. She places them in front of the hobbit and dwarf, then proceeds to start a chant.

"Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!"

By this stage, Pippin is laying face down against the table, completely unconscious. However, Merry is still going strong as he downs the next mug.

By strong, I mean we are ignoring the slight sways he makes every few seconds, and heavy slurs laced in his speech.

While all this is going on, one thought runs through Robins mind.

They are going to regret this in the morning.