Chapter Text
And yet again… the Fellowship, joined by Arwen, found themselves in yet another flowery and rocky meadow atop a hill, enjoying each other’s company asa the sun set. This instance was special, as Elves across Middle-earth would be observing a shower of stars that would fall tonight.
The group of friends was scattered around a delicious feast, supported by a wooden board and a woolen blanket underneath it. Several bottles of wine, jars of Miruvor, and ceramic jugs of beer were shared, paired with a beautiful presentation of fruits, nuts, cheeses, and meats.
Arwen, knowing that night still had to fall, stood up and faced her friends. She proposed a bet, wishing to know who, out of the Fellowship, was the first to become aware of when you and Legolas first, well, became aware of each other.
“You only say this because you might win,” you said, leaning back on your elbows.
“No, I know I would win,” she countered, circling the group. “I am curious about the others. So, to inspire you all, I will award the winner an entire jar of Miruvor and forfeit my chance.”
Legolas, who sat atop a boulder across the blanket from you, nodded. “From me, a bottle of Dorwinion wine.”
“Fine,” you sighed, looking up and admiring the peach-colored clouds. “I suppose I can part ways with a pouch of Southern Star.”
“That was supposed to be my wager!” cried out Pippin, lying on his front, resting on his elbows.
“No, Peregrin Took, a pouch of leavings is what you’d have left,” scolded Gandalf, who sat on a taller boulder behind Pippin. He whacked the young Hobbit playfully on the head with his staff.
“Its contents smoked before even reaching its winner.” Then, he decided, “A finely-crafted pipe will be what I have to offer.”
“See, that is the spirit!” encouraged Arwen, clapping her hands. “Continue.”
“Oh, I know! Me and Frodo, we’ll write you a tale,” proposed Sam, sitting next to Frodo atop a boulder. Frodo nodded in agreement.
“A book of your courage… your heroic deeds and such! Now, of course, it’ll be from the both of us; he had a heavier burden to bear. Wouldn’t be fair to him,” explained Sam.
“How sweet,” swooned Arwen, now walking past her beloved. Then, her resolve returned. “So, Aragorn? What of your wager?”
The others laughed at her refusal to indulge him and offer him the same kindness.
“Why?” questioned Aragorn, who sat cross-legged beside you, leaning back on his hands. “I did much of the planning!”
“You know her best; as such, you were granted an edge that makes up for such a disadvantage.”
“Fine,” he surrendered. “A bouquet of Elanaor and Niphredil, blessed by the Lady Galadriel, so that they may keep their beauty everlasting.”
Arwen gave a small bow in approval and continued on her path, hands clasped at her front.
“A map,” mused Merry, sitting beside his cousin, with his knees held to his chest. “Yes, I think that’ll do. I will draw a map of our journey. A map of our friendship.”
“Oh, no, that’s quite good,” complained Pippin.
“A ring of Mithril,” called out Gimli, who leaned against the boulder on which Legolas sat. “Aye, no need to expand on it.”
Finally, all eyes turned to Pippin, who fidgeted nervously between seating positions before finally sitting up with a bright expression on his face.
“I’m going to cook a meal for you and your family. A full course… a proper meal… with proper ingredients! Not any of the rabbits we’d come across in the hills.”
“Ah,” nodded Gandalf. “We may finally see what you had claimed to learn in Rivendell come to fruition. I lost hope of seeing it.”
You all laughed.