“Dammit, what time is it, Sam?” Frodo grumbled, throwing his arm over his eyes. Pertly, the little sonofabitch replied, miraculously not hung over
after their last night partying. “It is ten o’clock in the morning, Mr. Frodo.”

“Jesus H. Christ…” Frodo rolled over, not caring whether or not he made it out bed by nightfall. His head hurt like a mofo, and he seriously doubted
the stability of his stomach.

He looked around where he could without moving, and noted Aragorn passed out in a recliner, Boromir stretched out on the couch. On the floor,
Legolas, Haldir, and Glorfindel were all snoring. Loudly. He covered his ears and continued perusing the room. Gandalf was nowhere to be seen.
Bastard. It was HIS fault they’d had so much to drink, producing fifth after fifth of hard liquor. Frodo himself had seen the bottoms of two bottles of
Jack Daniels, and one bottle of Crown Royal. Damn. He was too small to drink all that alcohol.

Speaking of, where the hell were Merry and Pippin?

Oh. There they were.

There were two bathrooms in the long hallway that led to the guest rooms in Aragorn’s house, and out of each one laid a limp pair of Hobbit legs.
It appeared they had not made it much further than the bathrooms…

Celeborn and Elrond, being the elder and wiser of all the Elves, had managed to maintain bodily control and made it to their rooms before passing
out cold.

“Dammmmmiiiiiiiit…” he groaned, suddenly having a great whoosh of bladder movement. He rolled off the couch and hit the floor with a loud thump,
landing on Glorfindel’s chest. The handsome Elf barely ‘oomphed’ before commencing his snoring once more. Frodo continued, gingerly picking his
way through the bodies to the bathroom. Sam followed along behind him, smiling dopily.

Frodo wanted to hit him. Then he had an idea. “Sam, could you please pull Mr. Brandybuck from the bathroom?”

Sam did as he was asked, dragging a rudely awakened Meriadoc from his drunken slumber.

Frodo just smiled and went in the bathroom. He sat in there for probably ten minutes, but then again he wasn’t really keeping track. Just sitting
there, he fell into a bit of a post-drunken stupor, and remained so for quite some time.

Outside and back in the living room, life was coming back to everyone. All the Elves were up and happily chatting with each other, as Elves, the
bastards, did not suffer from hangovers like Hobbits and mortal Men. Aragorn and Boromir slowly woke up, clutching their heads and groaning.
 “Somebody stop that damn jackhammer outside!” Aragorn roared, covering his face with a pillow.

Elrond, who was simply stirring his coffee, stopped. “Sorry?”

At long last all the men managed to revive some semblance of life into themselves, and sat around, half lucid.

“I’ve got an idea,” Haldir said, munching on a bowl of Apple Jacks. “Let’s get drunk again tonight!”

There dead silence in the room could have been sliced with a knife. Or something.

“Fuck you!”

“Kiss my ass, Haldie, this bitch is going home!”

“Piss off, blondie.”

“You have GOT to be kidding.”

“No way.”

“We couldn’t.”

“Actually, that’s not such a bad idea.”

“Yeah, it’s not like we have to BE anywhere…”

“I’ve got more booze…”

“And it WOULD just go to waste…”

“I can be back by five.”

“Me too.”

“I’ll bring ice!”

“Dibs on the worm!”

“All RIGHT!”

Haldir smiled, satisfied with himself, as everyone else filed about, departing to do their daily junk. Like brushing their teeth. Woo. Stinky. He waved
his hand in front of his face, and swayed. “Hey, Legolas!” he yelled at the blonde Elf who was stepping into a sleek white sports car. “Would you
mind giving me a ride? I think I’m still drunk!”
 
 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
 

*Five P.M.*
 
 

Aragorn stood over the munchie table, laying out chips, salsa, bean dip, pretzels, Pringles, Doritos, Cheetos, Wheat Thins- WHEAT thins! “What the
F@#$!” Aragorn said, throwing the offensive box back in the kitchen. “That junk will kill you!” he said, to no one in particular. Just then Elrond and
Celeborn came in. Galadriel was not far behind, toting two cases of Miller Light. Celeborn had two cases of Bud, and Elrond’s arms were laden with
paper bags.

They had obviously dressed for the occasion. Galadriel had forsaken her evil queen of the night garb for jeans and a faded blue sweatshirt.
Celeborn looked stylish in black sweats and a gray tank top. Elrond sported khakis and a button-up blue shirt. Show off.

Aragorn himself had opted for loose fitting Carhartt jeans and a black sweatshirt. Everyone was definitely geared up for a drunken bash. “Just set
it anywhere in the kitchen guys,” he yelled to the first three guests.

Shortly afterward, Legolas and Haldir pulled up in Haldir’s red convertible. Legolas wore black carpenter jeans with a gray hooded sweatshirt, and
Haldir had once more managed to dress like a thug. His jeans hung past his butt, and he wore a white muscle tank. Galadriel silently appreciated
her handsome bodyguard’s muscles, then caught Celeborn raising his eyebrows. She finished putting the beer in the fridge quickly.

Next came the Hobbits, all dressed in jeans and t-shirts, all toting different kinds of liquor. Gandalf showed next, followed by Boromir, who was
working the black trench coat to its full effect. “Boromir, what the hell. You’re wearing a business suit. Jackass.” Haldir rolled his eyes at the
obviously party-inept man.

“I had business,” he said, shrugging off the jacket and his tie. “I brought clothes.” He held up a black bag. “AND more booze.”

“Put it on the table. Hey, where’s Gimli?”

Legolas busted out laughing. “He’s probably no further from the toilet than when we left him at his house. He’s not coming.”

“Puss.”

“No joke.”

“Yo guys!” Glorfindel said, strolling through the door in his usual “I’m-the-shit” walk. He carried a big cardboard box. “This thing is damn heavy.
Table?”

“In the kitchen.”

“Jesus, do you think we have enough booze?” Sam yelled, and Frodo whacked him upside the head. “No, genius. We don’t. There is NEVER
enough booze. Never. Besides, it doesn’t matter for you anyway. You’re the D.D.!”

Everyone cheered.

Sam shook his head. “Oh, no. I wanna get drunk.”

“Too bad,” Haldir said, looking the small Hobbit up and down. “Looks like you got the ‘short’ straw.” He cracked up, and he and Legolas slapped
high fives.

“Piss off, Sexless Wonder,” Sam quipped, then his mouth dropped when realized what he’d said. Everyone else was cracking up, and Haldir could
do nothing but glare.

“I’ll show you ‘short straw,’” he grumbled, moving to the snack table. He quickly began to eat everything there, then left, realizing Rosie was at
home, and he could probably get some sex if he left now. Merry and Pippin had already finished off the Cheetos and Doritos, and it was barely six
thirty.

“Hey, dude,” Boromir called, “Is Arwen coming?”

“Nah,” Aragorn said. “She had some damn girls’ night or something.”

“Why wasn’t *I* invited to girls’ night,” Galadriel pouted, then blushed when Celeborn leaned over and whispered something in her ear. Frodo
rolled his eyes. “Dammit, Aragorn, this will probably end up with several deaths tonight.”

“Alcohol poisoning,” they all said together, and then busted a gut laughing.

Again.

“Alright, kids, let’s get this party under way!”
 
 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
 

WHAM!

“Dude, that was fizzy!”

WHAM!

“What the hell…”

WHAM!

“Fizzyfizzyfizzy…”

WHAM!

“WOOHOO!”

WHAM!

“Whoa!” There was a crash as someone fell out of their chair.

Elrond, Celeborn, Galadriel, and Gandalf were all doing Slammers, and there was much laughter and ruckus from the room.

“Jeeeezus, how many of these do you think *hic* I can take, Cele?” Galadriel laughed. “Cele. Kelly. HA!” Then she fell out of her chair again.

“Apparently not any more,” he said, snickering.

“Okay, three of us left,” Elrond said, measuring up his opponents.

“Here we go.”

WHAM!

WHAM!

WHAM!

WHAM!

The fourth WHAM was Celeborn hitting the floor. This left Elrond and Gandalf in a showdown, and tension cut the room. Who would win?

WHAM!

“Holy SHIT!”

WHAM!

“I can’t feel my legs.”

WHAM!

“That’s because you’re OLD.”

WHAM!

“The room is spinning…”

WHAM!

“Oh, no…” Gandalf stood and ran for the bathroom, leaving behind a grinning Elrond.

“BOOYAH, GRANDPA!!!” he yelled at the retreating figure. “BOO…YAH!!!”
 
 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
 

In the living room, Aragorn, Boromir, Haldir, Legolas, and Glorfindel were trying valiantly to play a game of Twister. Haldir sat cross-legged on the
floor holding the spinner board in one hand and a beer in the other. “Right foot red!” he yelled, and cracked up as Boromir fell flat on his ass.

“Left hand yellow!”

More chaos.

“Aragorn, get your hand off my ass.”

“That’s not my hand.”

“GROSS!”

“Shut up, Legolas.”

“Speaking of asses, Glorfindel, do you work out?”

“Fuck off, Strider. I’m kicking your ass fair and square.” Glorfindel wobbled a bit and glared down at his offensive hands, which were, for some
reason, not cooperating. It had nothing to do with the fourteen shots of Cuervo he’d had already, and the three shots of Southern Comfort, and
the Jell-o shots that were strong as fuck.

He fell down.

“HA!” Aragorn said, glaring at the blonde Elf. “Kick my ass WHAT?” he said, smirking.

“Left foot green!” Haldir yelled again, chugging the rest of his beer and tossing it. He grabbed another from the line-up at his side. He popped the
top on the next one and raised it to his lips.

“Holy SHIT!” Aragorn went down, and Legolas stood (well, sort of) and raised his arms in the air. “I’m a SUPAHSTAH! SUPAHSTAH!”

Aragorn toppled over onto Haldir, and his beer went flying. “SonofaBITCH!” Haldir yelled.

“PARTY FOUL!” Yelled Elrond, whacking Aragorn over the head with a rolled up newspaper. “BAD Strider! BAD!”

“Not fair. I demand a rematch,” Boromir said, swaying. He took another swig from the bottle of rum he’d taken into his protective custody. He
growled at Haldir when he reached for it.

Celeborn passed through the living room, carrying a giggling Galadriel in his arms. “Eew,” Pippin said, his accent, well, accented by his
drunkenness. “Somebody turn up that bloody stereo!”

A Britney Spears tune floated through the six thousand dollar system, and the party froze.

“Turn that shit off!”

“Turn that shit up!”

Legolas jumped up on the coffee table, scattering empty bottles and cans. He began to dance seductively, making fun of the ditsy-ass blonde. “I’m
a…SLAAAVE…For YOU!!!” he said, rubbing his hands all over his body. “I’m a…SLAAAVE….for YOOOOU!!!” He shimmied his hips.

Haldir pushed his friend off the table, who landed on his back on the couch.

“Lego- *cough* -I mean Britney, heh, that was almost too good to fake…” Aragorn said, scooting away from the Elf.

“Yeah, but she is pretty hot,” Gandalf said, slumped down in a chair.

“If you like fake boobs.”

“Whatever,” said Frodo. “As long as they work!”

“Yeah, right, short man! You couldn’t get any if you paid HER!”

“Go to hell,” Frodo said, pouting.

“WOOHAA!!!” Glorfindel said, surfing on the back of the recliner. Suddenly, it snapped under his weight, and the blonde Elf Lord landed face first on
the floor.

“Ow…”

Merry grabbed up a can of Easy Cheese and began to push a cracker across Aragorn’s coffee table. Easily entertained, Aragorn joined in, and soon
the cracker race was on.

“It’s a good thing we’ve got a lot of that stuff,” Frodo said, holding a can to his mouth and spraying. “Thath damn good shtuff.”

“Haldir passed Glorfindel a bottle of Peppermint Schnapps. “Hey Legolas, come here!” he yelled. When the other Elf reached him, Haldir picked up a
bottle of chocolate syrup.

“I am the Lorax,” he yelled, in his best demon voice. “On your knees, bitch!”

Legolas laughed, too drunk to care, and sank to his knees. “Open wide!” Glorfindel said, waiting as Haldir poured chocolate syrup in Legolas’
mouth. Then he poured in a generous amount of the Peppermint Schnapps. “Now shake your head really fast and swallow,” Haldir ordered,
laughing.

Legolas did so, then nearly fell over. His eyes were bright. “Daaaaaamn! That’s GOOD SHIT!!! Do it again, do it again!”

And so the Klondikes began to make their way around the room, until six bottles of Schnapps and two bottles of Hershey’s had been emptied.

“Damn. It’s all gone!”

“What is?” Haldir asked.

“The…the…thingthingthing…what?”

“I dunno.”

“Me neither.”

“Hey, Boromir!” Glorfindel yelled.

“What!”

“Umm…I forget. Never mind.”

“Whatever.”

“HEY! Guys, it’s almost three a.m…”

“So what?” Elrond said, counting the number of little nubs in the paint on Aragorn’s ceiling. Losing count at six, he decided more alcohol was a
better idea.

Legolas wandered over to where Merry, Pippin, and Frodo were playing Donkey Kong Country, and quickly snatched a control from Pippin. The
Hobbit almost protested, but shut up when Legolas gave him his bag of Bar-B-Q chips. Haldir pushed Merry out of the way, and Frodo just passed
out.

“Dude, if you slap the ground, bananas pop out!” Haldir said, repeatedly making Donkey Kong slap the ground all over the place.

“You dumb shit, you just jumped off a cliff.”

“Oh. My bad.”

Aragorn snuck up behind Haldir with a can of whipped cream and sprayed a neat large bud of it on the top of his head.

“Sweet! Haldir sundae!” Haldir said, and scooped his finger through it before popping it in his mouth. Defeated, Aragorn dropped the can, which
was quickly attacked by Elrond.

Suddenly, Frodo sat up between Merry and Pippin, and slapped his hand down on the chip bag, screaming “BANANAS!!!” Chips flew everywhere,
and the whole room went silent.

“Oh, CELEBORN! You’re so big! Yes, yes, YES!”

“Ohmigod,” Elrond said, covering his ears.

Everyone began talking at once, trying to drown out the sounds from down the hall. “They better not be in my room,” Aragorn grumbled, turning
the stereo back up. Metallica blasted through the speakers, and everyone was happy.

Aragorn turned around after staring off into a drunken space for about ten minutes, only to find everyone passed out except for Legolas and
Haldir, who were still valiantly battling the foes of Donkey Kong. There were some coughing sounds from one of the bathrooms, and someone was
apparently asleep in his bathtub.

His head had already begun to pound, and he knew that he needed sleep, and right now. There were no places left on the recliners, but there
was a small spot right next to Boromir on the couch. It was as good a place as any.

His last thought before he went to sleep was Frodo, saying ‘bananas!’ and whacking the chip bag into the next Age.

Aragorn fell asleep with a smile on his lips…
 
 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
 

“Holy Christ, my head…”

“Oh my God, I’ve got no legs. Oh wait, yes, I do…they’re just really short…Eew! Pippin, get your nasty Hobbit legs away from my face!” Haldir
yelled, then whimpered and clutched at his head. “Dammit, we’re ELVES! We don’t GET hangovers!”

“Somebody shoot me…please…” Boromir moaned, unhinging his neck from the unnatural position he’d slept in. Aragorn groaned and rubbed his
eyes, then cringed and wrapped his arms around his head.

Bottles were scattered around the house like change in a couch. He didn’t even WANT to think about cleaning that up. Arwen was gonna be
pissed…oh well. Who cared? He knew how to shut her up just fine. Aragorn smirked, then squeezed his eyes shut, the pain making him want to
scream. But, thankfully, he knew better. Instead, he cursed every liquor company on the face of the earth, and thought about Arwen naked.

It worked.

“YEAH! I’m a llama again! Wait…” Legolas said, sitting straight up and staring at his hands. “Ohhh…Owwww…”

Moaning and groaning filled the entire living room as each of the guys woke up. Their heads throbbed, and their stomachs lurched.

“Coffee…coffee…” Aragorn groaned, his hand reaching out blindly. He jumped when a mug was placed in it.

“Morning everyone!” Galadriel said cheerfully, and everyone groaned at the noise. It sounded like nails down a chalkboard. Their minds had
blocked out the moans and groans from the two of them as a means of protection of sanity. Theirs.

Celeborn handed coffee out to everyone else, and they all sat in silence for some time.

“Hey, guys!” Haldir said. “I’ve got an idea…”

Pillows were rifled at him from every direction, and he closed his mouth.
 
 

~The End~