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Eldarion wasn't sure which he was more excited by; that Legolas and Gimli had proposed such an outing in celebration of his coming-of-age birthday, or that his mother and father had actually agreed to it. When their 'uncles' had brought the suggestion to Aragorn and Arwen there had been bemused smiles and raised eyebrows all around. Eldarion could have reached out and grabbed a handful of the envy rolling off of Túrien in waves. When at last Aragorn had given his permission, a whoop of glee had come dangerously close to escaping Eldarion's chest.

It wasn't that he'd never had a drink before; far from it in fact. In the past though, a glass of wine at the end of a banquet, stealthily poured behind his mother's obliging back or a half-choked gulp of mead with Elboron and the squires behind the stables had been about the extent of it. Alcohol wasn't necessarily forbidden in their household. It was just that their parents viewed drink as an occasional indulgence for those wise enough to keep their heads around it, rather than a recreational pursuit. That was why, at five-and-twenty years of age and now by the laws of Gondor, a man, Eldarion had never once in his life been drunk before. That was also why Legolas and Gimli explicitly asking permission to take him and his friends out for a, to quote the dwarf directly, "proper sousing" was so exciting.

Which brought them to here and now, on their way down to the fourth level of Minas Tirith; well entrenched into the streets and districts frequented by the everyday folk of the White City. To Elboron's vocal surprise and Elfwine's protesting, they had passed over several establishments in the upper levels. Eldarion had expected they would surely stop at The Lone Beacon, a wine-shop of refinement and beauty marked by a large brazier atop its portico and fragrant gardens filled with mingling nobility quaffing goblets of southern vineyards. Legolas hadn't so much as slowed his long, fluid gait as they passed. Nor did the elf linger at the doorway of The Cresting Wave, a fine lounge where minstrels and their wealthy patrons were inclined to gather, listening to stringed instruments and sipping bright liqueurs.

Rather than stopping at any of the high class parlors boasted by the upper levels, Legolas seemed content to let Gimli lead the way further and further down into the city. The dwarf's pace was slow compared to the rest of them, and slower even now that he leant heavily on a cane of pale ash wood. That Gimli was walking at all after his injuries at the Sea of Rhûn was a blessing, a blessing which everyone was silently grateful for. It had been almost a month since that fateful day though, and the mood was high amongst the group trailing behind their chaperones.

"I'm not sure what I'm looking forward to most," Elfwine was saying, already taking long pulls at the hip flask of malt liquor he had brought. "Watching you two fall into your cups for the first time, or getting there myself." His flask gave an ominously empty sounding slosh and the young Third Marshal wrinkled his nose. "The grog you Gondorians make isn't any fit match for the golden mead overflowing the cups in Edoras, but it's been too long and I'll happily take what I can get at this point."

Eldarion laughed. "I still call it unfair that you've been drinking freely with your father and the other Riders since your twentieth. Then again, that's Rohan in general for you."

"Got something smart to say about my homeland, princeling?"

As always, Elboron was at the ready with a diplomatic interruption. "We just admire the liberal ways of the horselords is all, cousin. After all, they made you Third Marshal, did they not?"

Mischief glinted flintily in the lamplight reflected by Elfwine's dark green eyes. "Oho! Remind me to rouse you extra early in the morn, Elboron. Your sharp wit needs a little dulling methinks!"

"Or alternately I could come by and rouse all of you before the dawn, just so you can get to work on your suffering early." The cheeky smile was audible in Legolas' words even as he walked in front of them in the street. "Eldarion, your adar always claimed that an early morning dip in the river was the perfect cure for 'self-inflicted wounds'."

"Hmmmm...." Eldarion considered the pair in front of him. "I have a better idea; you and Gimli ought to have a re-match on your old contest. You remember, the drinking game Gimli challenged you to after The Battle of Helms Deep? Only this time, to be fair to Gimli's old age, you ought to drink two flagons for every one of his, Legolas."

Moving surprisingly nimbly despite his bad leg, Gimli came to an abrupt halt and pivoted on his cane, rounding to poke Eldarion hard in the gut. The old dwarf's beady eyes glowered up at him from beneath stormy brows.

"Now listen here, pup! I may have seen a couple hundred winters to your five-and-twenty, but I can still drink any son of Man under a table. Especially fuzz-faced boys like you lot!" Gimli jabbed his cane toward Elfwine and Elboron where they stood snickering. Elfwine's mirth immediately lessened, and his hand shot self-consciously to his ever-thickening honey blonde stubble. Gimli raised an eyebrow, his own voluminous red-grey beard wobbling as his jaw worked. "Alright... less talk, more walk. We're almost to the place."

Much to everyone's surprise, Gimli and Legolas led them all the way to the gates between the fourth and fifth levels. There, looming over a metallurgist on one side and a tannery on the other was The Splintered Shield. A popular ale-hall that catered chiefly to soldiers, The Shield was a large, boxy stone building built from the same characteristically white stone as the rest of Minas Tirith. Grand pillars hung with the banners of Gondor framed an entryway wide enough that a line of five horses walking abreast could have entered with ease. From inside the steady rumble of voices reached them on a tidal wave of fiddles and drums, often punctuated with a guffaw or a shriek of laugh. It was not the sort of place one would expect to find royalty. Eldarion could not have been more excited to get inside.

Elfwine seemed to be of a similar mind. "Now that is what I call a proper tavern!" he exclaimed, downing the last of his flask in one gulp. The malt hardly seemed to have touched him, apart from the slightest rosy blush in his cheeks. "I'll bet my best tack that half of our riders are probably in there already."

A terribly written and even more poorly performed song comparing a maiden's hair to horses' tails reached them, and Elboron groaned. "They're likely the only ones to be found in The Splintered Shield by now, if they've been singing songs of such taste all evening."

Contrary to Elboron's ominous complaint, the ale-hall was actually filled nearly to capacity. Candelabras so heavily laden with wax that it threatened to drip on the heads of the patrons below cast pools of light on the ceiling, and an enormous half-circle hearth against the far wall did the same for the floor. Almost every table was full. Although the crowd was largely Gondorian, as proudly demonstrated by the white trees stitched onto the men's tunics, Elfwine's best tack was also his to keep; Rohirrim could be seen every which way they looked. The singer was still regaling everyone with his love song, and unsurprisingly none of the serving maids seemed interested in refilling the goblets at that particular table any time soon. His friends, already in their cups as they were, hardly seemed to care. They cheered him on in his song, joining in on the chorus as it came around with gusto. When the riders butchered a particularly awful stanza Legolas joined Elboron and Eldarion in their wincing.

"You know, you only earn the right to be a critic if you can stand up and do better" said Elfwine, elbowing his way at the front of their group to one of the few empty tables against the wall. He smirked meaningfully at Eldarion.

"Me?" Eldarion held up his hands, warding off Elfwine's implied suggestion. "Oh no, I haven't even had anything to drink yet!"

"We can fix that right quick, lad." Gimli was already waving his cane in the air, trying to catch the attention of the nearest server. "Aye, lassie! Drinks for the birthday boy, and make it double, eh?"

The girl, a fetching young thing with bright pink cheeks and a headful of thick cinnamon hair gawked at their party for a moment. Eldarion could hardly fault her. After all, they did look rather like the opening line of an odd joke. An elf, a dwarf and three princes walk into a bar... She recovered herself quickly enough though, and when swishing away into the throng in a whirl of skirts and aprons.

When she returned, Eldarion had to marvel at just how impressive the balancing skills of serving maids were. She carried two earthenware pitchers of ale in each arm, a stack of mugs in one hand and a bowl of nuts in the other. Elfwine sent her back to behind the bar with an order for a flagon of mead and a charming wink. The former she brought with a jar of honey for sweetening to taste, which she sweetened even further with a long-lashed wink of her own.

"What are you going to do the day you have to settle down once and for all with a queen, Elfwine?" Eldarion laughed. "If she's anything like your lady mother, you can be sure your days of freely charming will be over."

Elfwine grinned and shrugged, already hard at work on his mead. "If my wife is anything like my mother, I'll be happy to save all my charm for her and her alone."

"Spoken like a true son of Rohan," observed Legolas. "As I recall, in his time Éomer was more than a little popular with the women of the Westfold. And yet, Éowyn could not have wished for a more devoted brother nor a more faithful husband."

A mention of his uncle in the past tense had Elboron leaning across the table intently. "Oh, please tell us stories of our fathers in their youths! I especially want to hear more about Uncle Éomer and his popularity with the women, as you put it."

"Ughhhh, Elboron no!" Elfwine covered his face with his hands. "That is just about the last thing I want to hear more about tonight."

Gimli guffawed, slapping the table and making their mugs rattle. "Yer in luck, Elfwine. As much as this yarn-spinner likes to pretend he's been around to see and tell of everything, Éomer was already well past his younger days when we met him on the plains of Rohan. Same goes for you, Elboron. 'Course, your old man was probably the responsible-to-a-fault sort even when he was a lad, to say nothing of after he and Éowyn clapped eyes on each other!"

Seeing how Elfwine and Elboron sagged in mutual relief and disappointment that there would be no scandalous stories involving their fathers divulged that night, Gimli grinned evilly through his beard at Eldarion. "Now your father, laddie, is a different story. Let's have some stories from Fornost, Legolas!"

"Happy to deliver, mellon-nin,"

Legolas' fair face split in the silent laugh of one who has seen strange things and never grown tired of the retelling. Eldarion groaned aloud and dove back into his flagon of ale. As many stories as he had heard about his father's youth, somehow he suspected he might hear a few more tonight.

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Three hours and who knew how many cups of ale, mead, and wine later, and Eldarion was spinning. At least, that's what it felt like he was doing. Either that or the world had completely broken free of its moorings and was whirling on an axis with him at its center. It hardly mattered regardless. The heir to the throne of Gondor thought he'd never been more completely and utterly free.

He wandered with abandon around The Splintered Shield, falling in with this group and then the next. Everywhere Eldarion went it seemed he was greeted with smiling faces and open arms. Riders of Rohan goaded him to sing, and he did so with relish, even getting up to stand unsteadily atop a table at one point. Someone knocked the table and he nearly fell, but out of nowhere Elfwine was there to steady him. The prince of Rohan laughed like everything and everyone was funny, even when Eldarion asked him where the others were. Elfwine's leather doublet hung open over his tunic, strings long since come undone and forgotten. Eldarion thought Elfwine's hair, flying about his head in a glorious tangle, well suited the golden mead which he was drinking.

Perhaps he's drunk so much mead that its come through to his hair, Eldarion thought giddily. He decided he needed another dark ale to match his own.

Soft fingers brushed his, and as if by magic the wished-for mug of ale appeared in his hand. The pretty barmaid with the bright cheeks winked at him. Through the rosy haze which hung before Eldarion's eyes, he fancied her wink was less cheeky than it had been for Elfwine and more sultry. Then just as suddenly as she had come she was gone. Eldarion decided he must drink down his ale as quickly as possible so that he could call her back for another.

Everything seemed askew and oddly forgettable for another stretch of time; Eldarion had no idea how long. The next thing he remembered was roaring and cheering in a circle, at the center of which sat Legolas and Gimli. The two faced one another at a short table, both with a stack of empty shot-glasses to one side. Both seemed oblivious to the crowd around them. Instead the odd pair stared one another down as they down one shot after the other. Eldarion felt his stomach lurch uncomfortably, and he decided he didn't need anything more to drink. Finding nowhere nearby to put his cup, he did the next most logical thing and simply held it up in the air above his head. Sure enough someone obliged and took it from him, leaving Eldarion to clap and egg Legolas and Gimli on freely.

"Put him under the table!"

"C'mon elf, I thought you were famous for holding your liquor?!"

"Another round, another!"

Gimli, too busy gulping down the latest glass, waved his cane in the air instead. His supporters in the crowd roared fit to shake the floor when the old dwarf stuck out his tongue and waggled it at Legolas. Legolas simply raised an eyebrow and emptied two in quick succession. Eldarion noticed two of the serving girls hovering very close behind Legolas, to refill his drinks or hoping to 'accidentally' brush up against his arm, who knew? Eldarion suspected the latter over the former, if their giggling and flattering words of praise directed at the elf were any clue.

"Now we know what Elboron has to deal with all the time, eh?" Elfwine hollered in Eldarion's ear so loudly that Eldarion nearly fell over.

"Where ish Elboron anyway?" Eldarion yelled back, less than eloquently. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and somehow parched dry despite the copious amounts he'd been drinking all night.

Elfwine shrugged. "I thought he was with you?" Someone jostled him from behind, sloshing a little bit of mead onto Elfwine's jerkin. It hardly looked like the first stain of the evening though, and Elfwine paid it no mind.

"Back room. Ask the seating hostess."

Eldarion and Elfwine gawped in surprise when Legolas not only heard but also answered their questions over the din of the cheering crowd. He toasted Eldarion with a rather smug looking grin before tossing his latest shotglass back. Gimli shouted something unintelligible at him, and Legolas replied in what sounded uncannily like the dwarvish tongue. Even though nobody in The Splintered Shield could possibly understand the exchange, everyone guffawed with laughter all the same.

They found Elboron snoring contentedly on a pile of folded tablecloths in the pantry beside the bar. His blonde hair was thoroughly mussed over his eyes, making a rather convenient sleeping mask. He lay with one lanky long leg draped over a sack of apples, the other jutted askance toward the door. Eldarion couldn't be sure in the gloom, but he thought Elboron might have been drooling. The Prince of Ithilien's son still looked enormously comfortable, and suddenly Eldarion was mightily tempted to curl up beside him on the floor.

"Apparently the featherweight blood of Gondor runs thicker than wine," Elfwine commented, sounding beyond amused.

"I'm still on my feet!" protested Eldarion.

Elfwine did not look impressed. "You're also half an elf. You've put away enough to kill most first-timers already tonight, in case you didn't notice."

"Have I?"

That explained why Eldarion suddenly felt so bleary. When he made to try to rouse Elboron, he wobbled and ended up practically landing on his sleeping friend. Elboron gave a started grunt, followed by something that sounded suspiciously like a heave.

"Huuughh....whoosh 'dat?!" he mumbled.

"It's me, you dolt." Eldarion crawled to his hands and knees, trying to get a grip on Elboron's shoulders. "C'mon, on your feet. You can't exactly sleep here all night."

"N' why can't I?"

"Because your mother would be out for blood in the morning, and I frankly have no interest in being on Aunt Éowyn's bad side." Elfwine came to Eldarion's aid, and together they managed to get Elboron up and propped between the two of them.

"Heh..." Eldarion couldn't help but laugh.

"What?" asked Elfwine.

"Nothing. It's just that...well...last time it was Elboron and I carrying you like this, Elfwine."

Elfwine rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he elbowed open the pantry door. Elboron whimpered at the main room's brightness, turning away and trying to borrow his face into Eldarion's shoulder. Eldarion decided to let him, lest Elboron actually be sick this time.

"All that means is that next time it'll be your turn, princeling. Pray to the Valar that it's 'cause you're drunk and not stepped on by a-"

"The Valar?" They were interrupted by the melodious and completely sober sounding tones of Legolas. "Why Éomerion, how very elvish of you indeed."

Legolas and Gimli stood waiting for them at the edge of the raucous crowd filling The Splintered Shield. To Eldarion's bewilderment, both he and Gimli looked completely present and in one piece.

"But...you....how?!?" Eldarion stammered.

With a chortle, Gimli elbowed Legolas in the hip. "We had a little arrangement with the lassies at the bar. Figured we could let the folks have their show, and get away with it too!" He tossed the empty shot-glass he had held in his fist toward Eldarion. "Have a sniff of that there 'brandy'."

A quick whiff revealed a heady bouquet of orchards, but no alcohol whatsoever. "Apple cider?" Eldarion asked, bemused.

"Aye, fresh from the cask and untouched all summer!" Gimli snorted with mirth. "Everyone here's too far gone to spot the difference. We drank 'til they begged us to stop, so afraid were they 'for our health'!"

"You know that's cheating, right?" Elfwine asked. Elboron had fallen back to sleep, and he and Eldarion had to readjust their grip on his arms before he slid down between them.

"Pah! Let a pair of old timers bend the rules every now and again; Mahal knows I wasn't about to have a repeat of the morning after our last real contest!"

"Does that mean you freely admit that an elf can drink a dwarf under the table any day, my old friend?" inquired Legolas slyly.

Gimli huffed, thumping the butt of his cane on the floor of the ale-house, sticky with drink. "I happen to have grown out of such childish posturing and gained a mite of poise and maturity. Have you?"

Legolas' only answer was to laugh aloud, the musical sound making one of the bar maids drop a glass behind the counter. Seeing that Eldarion was scarcely able to walk a straight line himself, Legolas ducked under Elboron's limp arm to take his place. Gimli paid their tab to the Splintered Shield, completely refusing to tell Eldarion how much the price of their evening out had been.

"Consider it a late birthday present, lad. You can buy next time, now that you're a man grown," he said. Eldarion was still seeing the world through a fuzzy haze, but he thought he saw a glimmer of moisture at the corner of the old dwarf's eye when Gimli looked up at the tall young prince before him.

With Gimli setting the pace and leading the way, the five of them began their long, slow journey back up through the levels of Minas Tirith to the citadel. The normally smooth white streets felt uneven beneath Eldarion's feet, and he wobbled unsteadily ahead of Elfwine, Legolas and Elboron. The stars were out though, and even though they wheeled overhead Eldarion though they had never looked so beautiful. They almost seemed to dance on the night sky, like a great gathering of silver fireflies all dressed in their glittering best. Or perhaps like reflected glimmers of sunlight on the surface of a quiet pool; either way, Eldarion's gaze kept wandering back up to the sky, making walking all the more difficult.

Without provocation, Elfwine began to sing. It was slightly off-key and sloppy, but his voice was better than the singer they had heard when they first came to The Splintered Shield.

Pretty women, slow horses and wine

Have made me an old man ahead of my time

My hair once gold now silver does shine

On account of pretty women, slow horses and wine

As if roused by Elfwine's throaty singing, Elboron stirred and lifted his head. He gave Eldarion a lopsided, half-focused grin, and then joined in.

O I once met a maid with soft black hair

But to ask her to dance, I did not dare...

Teasing Elboron and laughing, one by one they all fell in with his song. Gimli embellished a line or two with rhymes about 'fair lasses with thick glossy beards', making the boys groan aloud. The song grew stranger and sillier and better with every wobbly step they took, all the way home through the starlit White City. 

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