Author's Note: Some of my readers are probably wondering, "Hey! Why is she writing a stupid one-shot? Update your stories, for crying out loud!" That's because I haven't written a fanfic in approximately forever, so this is a warm-up.
This rambunctious crowd in the Golden Hall was giving Legolas a headache. Too much beer plus too many people equaled complete and utter cacophony. And now, to make things worse, Eomer was laying down the rules of some strange human game.
"So here are the rules. No pauses, no spills," Eomer was saying.
"And no regurgitation!" Gimli added. The other men around him laughed rambunctiously.
"So…it's a drinking game?" Legolas asked.
"Aye!" said the Rohirrim men, laughing at his ignorance.
Well, this was certainly a strange way to celebrate a victory.
"Last one standing wins!" Gimli laughed and grabbed a tankard.
A man handed Legolas a tankard, and he sniffed it. It smelled all right, and he drank it slowly. Gimli, on the other hand, was practically shoving gallons of alcohol down his throat. He looked at his friend and chuckled to himself. That skinny Elven princeling with his pretty embroidered silver shirt would probably pass out after two tankards. While he, a robust, stout Dwarf, would leave him in the metaphorical dust.
Ten minutes later, Legolas was the only one who wasn't swaying dangerously, laughing obnoxiously, or singing songs about partying in the USA (wherever that was). Gimli didn't look too good, but still kept downing beer.
"Heh heh! Gimme another!" Gimli took another tankard, "It's the dwarves that go swimming with little, hairy women! Hahaha!" he burped and kept on drinking.
Suddenly, Legolas put down his tankard, a look of alarm on his face.
"I feel something," he said concernedly, "A slight tingle in my fingers. I think it's affecting me." He examined his hand and decided enough was enough. These mortals could play their little game.
"Haha! What did I say? He can't hold his liquor," Gimli slurred, sloshing his beer all over the floor. His eyes crossed, and then he fell backward off his chair.
Legolas smirked and motioned for another tankard. The Rohirrim were out as well, either passing out or just acting plain goofy.
"Game over," Legolas said with victory. He was going to have a fun time rubbing this is Gimli's face…once he woke up.
"Wake up Gimli. I'm not going to haul you up the stairs," Legolas said, shaking him. The celebration was over, and everyone was beginning to leave.
"Ugh…" Gimli mumbled, "I won, didn't I?'
"No. I did. Now we're even. You beat me at Helm's Deep, and I beat you at this drinking game," Legolas answered.
"What?" Gimli said incredulously "Since when does killing Orcs equal drinking beer?"
"Well, they both leave you tired and sore," Legolas pointed out.
"Golly, I am sore. Especially my head…ow! I'm going to have the worst hangover of my life. Oh, oh I'll never live this down," Gimli moaned.
"No, you won't."