A/N: Hello there, you wonderful people! I am so glad you all seem to be enjoying this light-hearted foray into fluff-dom, and do remember to let me know what you think about this final chapter.

I have my first real exam the day after tomorrow, then they are spread out for about a month after that, so forgive me if you do not hear from me much in the near future... I shall return promptly once this hellish period is over! Then we can all have an action/angst/fluff session, yeah?

Speaking of which, may I remind those of you who are unaware that I recently posted last chapter of 'Survival' (the Aragorn/Legolas friendship fic in which they are in peril etc etc broken friendship blah blah slight fluff), and did not get much feedback... I am assuming - and hoping - that this is because ya'll didn't know it was up. Yeah, that's obviously the reason...


Anyway, this has been much fun relief, and I'm sad to see it end. You've all been very amusing and supportive... give yourselves a vast pat on the back from me!

Hope you like this, let me know! This chapter, however, is my favourite chapter of the whole thing, its quite long and full of amusement: I, personally, think the other two look really rather weak in comparison. Let me know your opinions.

Wish me luck! Cheers, AliciA xxxxxx

"My Queen, I do loathe to bring this up again.... but I must say once more: what we have just planned goes against everything I have ever been taught about protocol and the proper way to behave towards my King," Faramir glanced at the elven-lady nervously as the company of avengers strode quickly through the many corridors of the palace and he struggled to keep up with the annoyingly flight-footed elves.

The beautiful she-elf had eventually swung the company around by promising no harm would come to them, and that the King would eventually see the whole thing as a bit of fun - but now, as they were actually on their way to Aragorn and Arwen's chamber, Faramir seemed not the only one to be having second thoughts.

"Aye, and with no disrespect, My Lady Undomiel... but your beloved is not technically my king, and so it is that I hold no right to.... 'rectify' the wrong he has apparently committed," added Martonia, temporarily walking backwards so he was able to look at his friend's glorious face and show his earnest hesitation.

Arwen suddenly stopped in a flourish of skirts, and all three males skidded on the polished marble floors in order to stop too.

"Look," she said plainly, deep blue eyes flashing, "Lord Faramir: I give you my word that you shall be absolved of any punishment our King might wish to dole out upon the success of our plan, evn though it is my guess that he shall not be too distressed for very long in any case... " Faramir nodded slightly and looked down, though he still looked doubtful.

" ...And Martonia, muin melldis [dear friend]... Legolas is your prince now, and yet has been your kin spirit by way of equally mischevious natures for longer than I care to remember: you have been causing trouble together throughout all of Elvedom since you were both elflings. Now - even though I find it utterly hard to believe that you are not the merest bit excited about playing this joke - at the very least, you have to respect an order from your prince." And with that, she turned expectantly to Legolas, who held the item that was to enable his revenge in his hands.

Legolas at first seemed surprised that the matter had turned to him once more - from the very moment he had mentioned it to Arwen, the whole thing had been rather out of his hands - but then his typical stoic expression overtook his fair features, and none could really tell what thoughts could be running through his sharp mind. And, for the smallest moment, Arwen suddenly doubted her own ability to understand her best friend... mayhap she had misinterpretted Legolas' wishes? Perhaps he really didn't want to do this?

But then, a shockingly devious little grin took to the archer's lips, the one his friends had come to realise he adopted just when he was about to be thoroughly wayward.... all three companions could see just how his green eyes glittered the way they did with anticipation. After all, the vengeance of elves was not a thing to be trifled with.

"Aye, that's right, Martonia," was all he said, before he pushed past them with a satisfied nod of his golden head, and strode off down the white marble corridor with a certain purpose accompanying his own typical elegance, leading to the King and Queen's chamber, object of revenge in hand.

The Lady Arwen could only flash her friends a beautifully-triumphant smile before she, too, launched herself in pursuit, leaving Martonia and Faramir half-heartedly spluttering in the nobles' wake.

"Nay! Cricket is far better than rugger, feet down."

"Get away, Merry! You can't be serious! Only old gaffers think cricket's any good at all!"

"I shouldn't underestimate the wise words of a gaffer if I were you, lad... I'm well on my way to becoming one!"

Annoyingly, Eldarion been carried off for his nap earlier by a very formidable nanny called Myrfyan, whom Pip had very nearly gotten the wrong side of; and the incessant chatter that surged forth constantly from the two bright halflings had eventually lulled Aragorn into a light sleep... but neither hobbit really minded, for both were perfectly content with merely being in the King's company, and were far too used to each other to ever be caught short for conversation.

And so, Merry and Pippin sat comfortably in chairs made for Gondor's children, across the room from the bed which held the King slumbering within it, their backs to the chamber door. Merry could barely see Aragorn: the bed seemed to sink slightly in then middle, and all the blankets their friend had previously been twisted up in had ended up forming a sort of wall about him, sheilding him from both the sun that streamed in through the windows and the gaze of the halflings.

"Do you think he's right?" asked the elder hobbit after a moment of silence, chestnut brown eyes upon the sunlit bed.

"About what?" Pip, who had not been paying attention, rather he had been amusing himself with the dripping candle wax from the nearest lantern instead. Now, however, he turned his auburn head to his cousin, with eyebrows raised.

"No, foolish Took! I mean: do you think he's right in himself?" Merry replied, annoyed at his best friend's lack of consideration. He got to his feet and wandered across to the high bed, hands thrust deep into the pockets of his short corduroy trousers.

Peregrin frowned slightly, brushed the balls of wax out of his lap, and followed. When he reached the bed, he stood on tiptoes to look over the side of it, and there he found Aragorn fast asleep, semi-curled in on himself, but with his injured leg outstretched stiffly. The curious young Tooklander reached out a small hand hesitantly, ignoring Merry's warning looks, and gently prodded the sleeping King. Aragorn did not make a move, merely breathed out deeply, making the touseled whisps of ragged brown locks that fell across his face bob up and down slightly. "I should say so," Pip attempted to sooth his friend with a shrug of his skinny shoulder and a sniff, "after all, it was only a leg wound."

"Aye... and the Lady Arwen did say it was just a scratch."

"Aye, see!"

"I just wouldn't have thought he would sleep, is all," Merry took in the form of his King, and pursed his lips.

Pippin was silent for a moment, playing idly with wax in the pocket of his bright yellow waistcoat. Then, a bright smile took over his face, transforming it into a cheeky, freckled visade. He nudged his friend slightly with a practised elbow, "We do tend to wear people out, Mer... especially those who aren't lucky enough to be Shirefolk... Gandalf calls it 'an unfortunate character trait'."

It took a moment for this comment to sink in, and then a smile began to spread itself across the Brandybuck's solemn face, making his brown eyes shine with the light of a thousand burning stars. Merry started to laugh - not just a mere chuckling, but a huge belly-laugh that came right from the soles of his large, furry feet.

"Bless you, Pip!" he managed to gasp between spasms of hysterics. He pointed a shaking finger at his cousin, "You, sir, are unique, in every sense of the word!"

Pippin grinned a wide, idiotic grin at his long-known ability to make his best friend helpless, "I shall take that as a compliment, whether that was the intention or no!"

He began to giggle hard himself when Merry was forced to clutch onto him in support in order to stop himself from falling onto the stone-flagged floor. Very soon, the two had to drag themselves away from the King's bed, as they were in danger of waking Aragorn with their antics. And so they crawled up, back into their chairs, wheezing and thoroughly exhausted, swiping half- heartedly at the tears of mirth drying upon their round, flushed cheeks. There they sat awhile, the occaisional snort or chortle escaping them.

"I think I've pulled a muscle," Peregrin eventually muttered, rubbing his aching ribs... the forlone look upon his face ruined by the wide smile breaking it like a dawning sun.

Merry whimpered in reply.

Dartarn, son of Raymon, shot a half-alarmed glance at his brother-in-law to see whether Greful, son of Aromful, felt the same as he about the situation. But unfortunately the dark-haired guard was not looking at him, rather his sea-grey eyes were fixed resolutely upon the glorious face of their Queen, who was currently confronting them.

The elven lady stood in front of them both, hands pressed down upon lean hips, looking up at them both with large eyes that boasted having seen many years of men within their depths. Behind this vision was stood a rather uneasy-looking group, consisting of the King's closest friend - who was an elf and one of the Famed Nine - the Prince Greenleaf, who's unnaturally jerky movements indicated a certain suspicious nervousness in the usually- graceful warrior, holding something large behind his back that Dartarn could not quite see; another elf whom Dartarn did not know, dark-haired, heavy-eyed and a little bit odd in any case, looking all about him uneasily as if expecting some sort of ambush; and their very own Steward, Prince Faramir of Ithilien, who refused to look the two guards in the eye, and instead fixed his soft gaze firmly upon his boots, so all that could be viewed of him was the top of his straw-coloured head.

It was an odd assortment, to be sure, and Dartarn was unsure as to whether their intentions were purely wholesome. He wonder vaguely which side he would be best on if forced to choose.

Most likely whichever the Queen is on was his mental reply, and he was forced to smother the grin that threatened to shake his dark beard.

"As I was saying, my good men," the Lady Arwen's voice was silky-smooth, and almost like honey to ears accostomed to the sounds of battle and harsh words - little did the two Gondorian guards know that this was the exact same tone she had used to persuade Legolas, Faramir and Martonia to her way of thinking just moments before - "all we wish is for a few moments of my betrothed's time... that is all. We shall leave almost immediately, and you two can carry on with your duties, as I trust you will." She smiled winningly, white teeth and rose-bud lips fair near melting the metal of the two hard-hearted soldiers.

Greful coughed uncomfortably, eyes never leaving her face, as though mesmerized by the utter beauty found there. Datarn decided he must remember his friend's behaviour at this moment and bring it up in conversation when next they were in the company of Dartarn's sister, the lovely Delima, the fire behind their family's name and the wife of Greful. She would no doubt have more than a few things to say on the matter of his adoration.

And so Dartarn took action, on account of his friend having been rendered speechless: "Your Majesty, you told us specifically that the only creatures to be allowed through this door was the two Shirelings... you told us that the King was wounded, and needed to recover before he took on any more stress.... you said that the slightest thing could lengthen our leader's healing process..."

Faramir suddenly felt a sharp gaze upon him, and lifted his head up in time to latch eyes with Legolas, who's intense elven eyes were boring into his own, and there passed a silent guilty look between them.

The Gondorian guard's quick blue eyes saw this, and he supressed another smile, knowing he was getting through to them and protecting his King, "But of course, if you wish, you may go in..." he finished brightly, stepping aside and offering the chamber door to them.

There was silence, and none of the vengeance-seekers moved, other than glancing awkwardly at one another. The strange dark elf who stood at the back of the group finally sighed slightly and shifted his light feet, looking up to say, "Nay, this is folly... let us go - he did nothing to me, in any case..."

Lord Faramir began to leave, nodding his fair head in acceptance, "Nor me, this has nothing to do with I."

Surprisingly, it was Prince Legolas - not the Queen - who called a halt to their exit, raising his soft voice along with a pale hand in protest: "Wait!" he cried, "Do you not see that Estel has slighted me? Do you honestly think I shall be able to hold my head up as an elf and a warrior... as a leader able to be respected, if I did not seek revenge? He - in a demonstration of complete underhand sneakiness... an affliction, say I, from his days as a Ranger - called in the loyalties of two young, impressionable halflings, intentionally misguiding them... all to make me look like a fool... and now it is my turn!" His glinting green eyes caught and held the gazes of his two friends, who were then unable to hide the smiles from their faces.

Martonia smirked almost like a human as he crossed his arms succinctly over his broad chest, rocking his weight back and forth, as was his habit, "I am young and impressionable now, am I, mellon nin?" He deftly ignored the giggle that came from Arwen, and fixed his attention wholly upon his friend.

Legolas smiled back at him, knowing he had, at least, another elf on his side, and replied sweetly without hesitation, "Amin n'ruwa ta [I don't doubt it]."

The dark haired elf chuckled then, giving in against his better nature, he unfolded his arms and bowed deeply, as though a lowly servant, "San' amin naa lle nai: amin naa tualle [Then I am yours to command: I am your servant]." This action won him another delighted laugh from the magnificent elf-maiden and a grin which accompanied a satisfied nod from the golden haired archer.

Faramir, who understood a little (a very little) amount of Elvish from living and working with the firstborn who had settled in the garden of Ithilien, knew then that he would have no choice but to follow his friends in this matter, though he was mildly ashamed that a small part of him was quite looking forward to it....

The loyal Dartarn sighed as he saw this, but all he could do was open the heavy door to the chamber, letting his King's would-be murderers through.

It would be okay... whatever the nobles had planned, he could always pin the blame on Greful's incompetance.

Neither hobbit had heard the door open, so immersed were they in the activity of trying not to laugh and hurt themselves any more. How could their ears, so accustomed to the uproar and frivolty of a lively tavern or the soothing music of a happy Hobbiton jig, hear the fair-near indetectable tread of swift elven feet? How could their eyes, stinging and blurry from recent tears of mirth, catch the flowing movement of a gracefully carried, many-skirted gown?

No, they could not have done, even had they not been so preoccupied... and so the first time they became aware that anyone was in the room with them at all was when two slim hands wrapped themselves simultaneously around their mouths, effectively gagging them and preventing them from sounding their alarm.

Merry, feeling the soft smoothness of the hand that held him, glanced up with less alarm than Pippin (who felt only a rough, calloused palm covering half of his small face, a palm that might have belonged to an Easterling, for all he knew), and was greeted with the beautiful face of Martonia, a decidedly-perculiar elf from Rivendell who Merry had had the pleasure of getting to know at a happy feast many months ago. The architect's dark grey eyes sparkled with elven magic, and he smiled reassuringly at the hobbit he held. And though Merry knew that the being was up to no good, he knew he, at least was safe for the moment. Peregrin eventually came to realise that it was none other than his good friend Faramir who held him still, and so stopped struggling, but not before he managed to deliver a smart kick to the poor Ithilien ranger, making the prince double up slightly, though he had to swallow his exclamation.

It was then that Legolas' fair face dropped into the halflings' eye lines, and they knew by the troublesome smile that lit up his usually-calm and stoic countenance, and the hands hidden innocently behind his back, concealing something they knew not what, that they were done for. They'd reached the end of their hobbity-lives: for none insulted the son of a elven King and got away with it.

Legolas, for his part, relished the look of surprise, understanding and fear that flashed through the suddenly-widened eyes of his two sweet companions, and was amused that, restrained as they were, they were unable to talk for once. But his quarrel was not with them, and so he satisfied himself with merely raising a golden brow and grinning at them in a way that made them realise he was not about to kill them. Merry and Pippin both sagged with relief when they saw this, though (of course) they'd known all along that Legolas would not harm them.

The tall archer all-but glided across the room to join his partner in crime, the fair Arwen, who stood beside her beloved's bed. He took up his position at the feet of his King, and waited.

Aragorn suddenly was unable to breathe: his chest constricted and his lungs faltered. He was shocked into awarness, jerking at once out of his sleep, only to find that someone had hold of his nose, preventing him from drawing breath. Quickly he opened his mouth, gasping in the sweet air, and the hand that had held on so cruelly released his nose at once.

He glared up in umbridge, ready to yell at whoever had disturbed him, but was met with the beautiful face of his love, smiling down upon him. Knowing through experience that Arwen was sometimes as odd in her behaviour as the strange and temperamental elves of Mirkwood, and she most likely had her own reasons for grasping his nose and stopping him breathing, he grinned up at her. "Quel andune, mell nin [Good afternoon, my love]."

A strange smile took over his Queen's noble features then, and her eyes narrowed. "Oh, I wouldn't be so sure of that, if I were you, mell nin." She said the endearment in a mocking way, a voice sly and seemingly unnatural flowing from her red lips.

What a curious thing to have said Aragorn thought, and pondered this until his eyes, starting to scan the room, found the slender form of Legolas, stood like some evil herald of death at his feet. The elf's handsome features were like a mask, and his body was as still as a statue of stone, only his green eyes showed any movement, there being a glint of silver to be found deep within them.

"What's going on?" he asked, voice swift and not victim to any fear. He tried to sit up in his bed so he was no longer helpless on his back, but a small hand stopped him, pressing him firmly back down into the welcoming mattress with a surprising strength.

The King swallowed, and though he knew the guards were instructed not to enter, he turned his head to call them and instead found the sight of Merry and Pippin, being held at bay by two taller beings, both of whom had one hand wrapped around the small faces of the hobbits, and another hand against their chests, keeping the small creatures from struggling too much. Muffled noises of annoyance and discomfort escaped from the halflings, through the fingers of their guards.

"Martonia... I might have known," Aragorn muttered as he recognised the elf who held Merry.

The dark-haired elf's grey eyes twinkled, and he raised a hand in an amusing half-wave, only to be forced to snap it swiftly back to it's place on Meriadoc's small chest as the brave Shireling took his chance to buck as hard as possible in order to escape. The architect seemed to have his work cut out for him.

Aragorn chuckled slightly, and his eyes slid along to the other accomplice... he was surprised: he wouldn't have reckoned on his usually- loyal steward being a part of a mutiny - the King had the intelligence, however, to see how the ranger-prince deftly avoided his eyes, keeping them fixed downwards onto Pippin's wayward, auburn curls, and knew then that Faramir might not be totally to blame in this plot. Which left...

... his two closest friends. His eyes snapped back to Arwen and Legolas in accusation. "Tell me what this is all about," he demanded from his place on the bed.

His lady nodded, and began: "My dearest Aragorn, you may think that now, because you are a King - and have many who bow down to you in respect, many willing to give up their lives so that you and their nation may live on, and many-" here her deep blue gaze crossed to the Pheriannath "-who will carry out any order you have placed upon them... you may think that this gives you some sort of leave to... how shall I say it... make a mockery of your oldest and most faithful companions." And at this, Arwen looked fondly to Legolas, who gave no sign of recognition.

She continued softly, but they all heard her in perfect clarity, "In theory, you might be right... but let me tell you this and give you fair warning..." her eyes snapped sharply back then onto Aragorn, who had the decency to cringe slightly at the suddenly harsh tone she used deliberately to frighten him, "This oldest and most faithful companion was born long before the Kingdom you now rule over was even founded; he has seen the aging of the world for many long years and this shows in bright eyes that are still youthful and full of the joys of this world; he lives in a forest full of such cruel evil and terrifying peril that brave souls even fear to tread through it, and yet he calls it his homeland; he has wandered across the length and breadth of Middle-earth and is known throughout as one of the greatest warriors of our time."

Her voice was low and husky, and she sounded so alike to her grandmother at that moment it was mildly worrying, "This oldest and most faithful companion comes from a very long, very strong line of wise elven Kings who abhorred Men with as much hate as they had grace, and yet he went against this tradition of his forefathers, merely to be named as your friend; his elvish magic is powerful and boundless, and yet he uses it little upon you, for reasons I know not; he has saved your skin in many foul and dangerous situations the two of you have gotten yourselves in to, rescuing you, his best friend, because he loves you... because he is your oldest and most faithful companion."

Aragorn winced deeply at these truths, and dared not tear his gaze away from his wife's furious face to even glance shamefully at the son of Thranduil to convery his sincerest apologies... he was unable, then, to see that Legolas' whole face was on fire in his embarrassment, countenance shining a bright red never before seen upon an elf: the archer had not known that Arwen had been planning to say this... he was shocked and mortified. Faramir's mouth was fair near grazing the floor; Martonia was listening close; and the hobbits' eyes were almost completely round as Arwen finished her tirade.

The Queen took in a breath, nearly trembling with her emotions. She smiled suddenly at the astounded male, dipping her beautiful head sweetly, "I think, mell nin, that you might have, perhaps, forgotten who Legolas is to you, to all of us." She folded her elegant form and leant down, dark hair falling all about her as she brought her glorious face threateningly close to Aragorns, and she all-but whispered, "And I think you did a very foolish thing earlier today, hmmmm?"

Aragorn swallowed the heavy clot in his throat and nodded.... he was going to be run through, he just knew it. He closed his eyes then, awaiting the death stroke to be delivered, and his life on these shores to be cut short - but it never came. He waited with baited breath, but it never came. He opened his eyes, and found himself staring straight into Legolas' large orbs, Arwen having tactically retreated after a swift, apologetic kiss to his forehead, the elf still stood at the foot of his bed with his hands behind his back.

"Mellon nin," he began, raising his hands in defence before him, "Forgive me: it was only a bit of fun..."

Legolas grinned and shook his golden head. He sighed dramatically, "I am afraid, Estel, that the damage has already been done, and you must pay the price." He seemed almost about to do something, but then he stopped, relaxing slightly. "Estel, do you love me?" he asked suddenly.

"W-what?" Aragorn was confused and completely thrown off-track by the odd question.

"Do you love me?" Legolas repeated in the same manner, slowing the words slightly.

Aragorn did not understand. And he was embarrassed as well, for all eyes were upon him now. "Legolas..." he said quietly, his awkwardness seeping through he tone, and jerked his eyes towards the forms of Faramir, Martonia, Merry and Pippin to imply that is was an odd and potentially uncomfortable question for all involved.

"Just answer the question, Estel," Legolas cried, swiftly becoming irritated.

His best friend saw the signs of his annoyance, and knew that his answer might possibly get him out of whatever foul punishment lay ahead. So he sighed and said, "Aye, of course I do... you might as well be my own kin, for I see you as a brother of my heart."

Legolas smiled brightly at this, and nodded, "Just what I thought. Then you'll soon forgive me for this!" And without further preamble, he brought forward the large, steel bucket full to the brim of ice-cold water that he had carried behind him this whole time, and turned it upside down in front of him, seemingly about to cover his King's feet in the liquid.

But, in order to really pay back his best friend for the indignity he had suffered, and in a bout of unusual recklessness, Legolas decided to unleash part of the 'powerful and boundless' elven magic he had always held within him but only very rarely (if ever) used. At his open-palmed gesture, the freezing water stopped it's journey in mid-air, and impossibly changed it's direction till it was spread out horizontally across the length of the King, like some viscous blanket of water, and then descended. It all happened so fast, it was hard to really understand what had happened, but the result was that Aragorn ended up completely, totally drenched in liquid that would not have been out of place gracing the Mountain Caradhras.

Aragorn shot up from his soaking bed with a mighty scream, not caring for his injured leg, his sudden loss of Kingly dignity or the former-friends that were present... only that the water was utterly freezing and covering him from wet head to bare feet.

Dartarn heard his King's scream from outside the closed door, but once again felt it was far too much to ask that he be the one to go in and attempt to sort it out, only acknowledging it witht he smallest turn of his dark head. Greful yawned and merely carried on naming all the things he thought his friend might have 'spied' beginning with 'E'.

"Well now, mellon nin, I truly believe we are even."

The two shocked halflings, and the three successful conspirators had left, talking animatedly with one another about the events of the day, which were certainly going to become thoroughly notorious when spread throughout their circles of friends. And so the only ones left in the chamber were Aragorn - now changed and only a little bit damp - bundled under the covers of his bed, and Legolas, standing calmly off to one side.

Aragorn looked up at this comment, about to retaliate with more than a few arrows of his own wit, when he saw that Legolas was being completely honest, his expression open and appealing, golden head cocked innocently on one side. Damned elf he thought quietly of course he is being honest... when is he ever not? And so, for the greater good, the wise King swallowed his bile and rewarded his oldest and most faithful companion with an amused smile, "Aye, I suppose...."

Legolas' fair smile broadened, and he wandered over to the bed, bending his tall form easily to pick up the book Aragorn had hurled at the wall in frustration earlier, he deposited it into Aragorn's lap, "Here, you dropped this."

The King had trouble keeping down the bubbles of laughter rising threateningly in his chest... he was not about to tell the elf about his little tantrum, and was especially going to keep secret the fact that the object had not even reached it's target of the wall, having been thrown in a decidedly girlish manner. "Thankyou," he said, smiling to himself.

The prince sat down on the bed, though Aragorn could barely feel his light weight shift the mattress at all. Legolas looked up into his best friend's face then, green eyes wide, "I am sorry, Estel, however... for - you know..." he trailed off, merely gesturing with his hands.

"For dumping a bucket of ice-cold water all over me? A large bucket, may I say..." Aragorn finished. Legolas nodded, and the ex-ranger sighed, knowing he was as much in the wrong as the prankster of an elven prince, "Aye, and I am sorry as well for- "

"Setting the hobbits on me?" Legolas finished, one practised fine brow raised.

"Aye," Aragorn conceded with a grin. He held out a hand, and Legolas grasped his forearm in the elvish way, conveying all that was needed. They withdrew and sat smiling softly, greatful for the peace of their long- standing friendship. Aragorn was the one who broke the silence: "I should have known you would seek vengeance - 'tis the way of elves, you know." At Legolas' indelicate snort, he chuckled and continued, "And of course, Arwen and that demon Martonia would be involved somehow... though I must admit I am shocked by Faramir association with you gang of heathens and your dastardly plans."

Legolas laughed melodiously, shifting slightly on the bed in order to draw one leg up to his chest, resting his elbows easily upon it. He shrugged lightly, "Poor Faramir never really had a choice in the matter: I must say that he was drawn into the whole thing rather against his will..." His eyes lighted as a thought came to him, "As is the loyalty of Men."

Aragorn grumbled half-heartedly, "Or lack, thereof."

The prince laughed once more, then prodded his friend upon the shoulder with a well-practiced finger, "I was also drawn in against my will, you know." At Aragorn's rolling of his eyes and the folding of his arms, the elf nodded with conviction, "I was! The cheif instigator in all the plans of revenge was your lovely wife! I swear - Estel, stop laughing... come on, it's not very mature or Kingly, now, is it?"

"I am sorry, mellon nin, but it's all so amusing... I do love you all - even you and all the other traitors... I doubt the palace and City of Gondor is any brighter or full of mirth than when you all descend and turn Royal protocol into a mockery and my dignity into a mere myth or legend," Aragorn grinned fondly, and grasped his best friends hand, slate-grey eyes sparkling like diamonds.

Legolas smiled back widely, displaying perfect white teeth, and said cryptically, "Then you'll enjoy this evening."

"Oh, and why is that?" Aragorn asked, curiosity furrowing his dark brow.

"Gimli is arriving," Legolas said sweetly, relishing the sound of every word of that sentance.

Aragorn withdrew his hands in order to cover his face, flinging himself indulgently back into the pillows, as if they might grant him refuge from the chaos that would inevitably follow the stout dwarf's arrival. "What did I do to deserve this?" he groaned, echoing his previous statement from that morning.

Legolas prodded him sharply again, loving every minute of this, and crowed with delight, "You got yourself injured, that's what, my lord!"

The (real) End.

Review, let me know whether you liked it or no! Love ya'll, see you soon! AliciA xxxx