There was a nice, roasted turkey on the table. It was juicy and soft. But, Gimli (in his drunken rage) thought it was an Orc. Whack! His axe cam down on the helpless entrée swiftly. The turkey was sundered in two, as was the table.

Aragorn had wandered off and now returned with pink underclothes-on his head (these are indeed the ones Eomer dyed)! He also had gotten a pink tutu. He dropped this on top of Gimli. Regretfully, he had forgotten Legolas. To make amends, he grabbed a mug of beer-and dropped it on Legolas' beautiful hair. The elf gave a shriek and started dancing about wildly. Gimli was now wearing a pink ballet slipper and a bright pink tutu, doing the Art of ballet, at the same time he was smashing things with his axe. Aragorn had returned to cheerleading, rather clumsily. Eomer was nowhere to be seen.

Eowyn whistled under her breath. "That's bad news, Faramir."

"What?"

"My brother is up to something." A second later, there was a tremendous yell. Eomer had returned. He was still wearing the shirt on his head, but he had needles in between his fingers.

"Who wants a fistfight?" he roared.

Everyone continued their previous engagements. Eomer wanted to make his point clear, so he poked Aragorn on the hmhm (butt). There was a shriek, Aragorn started hopping up and down, clutching his hmhm.

Gandalf walked up behind Faramir and Eowyn.

"Who are they?" He asked, gesturing to the 4 drunks. He did not recognize them.

"Those," Faramir said laughing, "are the drunk lords of Middle Earth."

A\N: Alright, maybe I'm not sure they have ballet, slippers, and tutus on
Middle Earth. But, it makes a good story! Heheeh