“I think,” said Sam, sitting down on a log next to the fire near Merry, “That you are so busy feeling left out, that you are leaving yourself out.” Frodo was a small ways away, talking to Legolas and Gimli. Ciendriel was looking after Haldir, and his brothers were patrolling the small area around their camp to keep them all safe. They loved to patrol. Merry bet that wasn’t all they got up to, either.

“What do you mean?” Merry frowned at Sam.

“They asked you to go with them to...ah... pick mushrooms.”

“They’re not picking mushrooms, Sam,” Merry said, just to make Sam blush. He obliged. “They’re--”

“I know what they’re doing,” Sam sighed. “But they do always bring back mushrooms.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

“Why should it? I like mushrooms.”

Merry squinted at him. “That’s not what I meant. I know you were angry at her in Rivendell. She was depressed all day because she thought you would never speak to her again.”

“I was...wrong to judge her,” Sam sighed. “Maybe I am wrong to encourage you to go after them...she and Pippin...make a nice couple.”

“No!”

“Merry!”

“Pip’s mine. He’s been mine since he was born. I love him, and I don’t want to be parted from him.” Merry felt tears swell in his eyes. “And besides...why would Angelica choose him over me?”

Sam moved closer to Merry and put an arm around him. Merry leaned against him. Sam was so comfortable, comforting...

“You and Pippin will always have a special bond. Nothing can ever change that,” Sam said. “I imagine that some day both of you will want to settle down, and get married, and--”

“Married?” Merry sat straight up and looked at Sam as if he’d just sprouted another head. “To a Dwarf woman, with a beard, maybe? Argh!”

Sam looked puzzled. “Merry, what are you talking about?”

“Never mind! Just-- never mind!”

***

Three long days and nights, and Haldir still hadn’t had a bath. Ciendriel had washed most of the dirt from his face, but he still felt completely filthy. She had also made him several salves and a tonic to ease his pain, and though all of them kept insisting that he rest, by now he felt perfectly fine -- except filthy. He was determined that he was going to the stream to bathe tonight, no matter whom he had to kill to do it.

He had accepted everything Ciendriel did for him without question. He didn’t worry that she would try to slip him more Mortamoris, and he also knew that it was wearing off. He didn’t think she would try anything for at least a while, and this he could use to his advantage. Her guard was down. She felt badly about his abuse at the hands of the Orcs. Haldir was grateful to have been rescued, of course, but he was itching to move on to Lothlorien, tired of sitting around in the woods, when he felt perfectly fine.

The Hobbits avoided him, for the most part...especially Angelica. He couldn’t blame her, he supposed. After all, it was his fault she’d been expelled from her village. The sweet little trollop. He chuckled at the thought. Gimli had sat for long hours talking to him, and it had been all Haldir could do to stay awake. What did Legolas see in him? Occasionally Frodo asked him how he was feeling, but it seemed mostly out of courtesy than caring. But what did it matter? There were more urgent problems at the moment.

“I need to bathe,” he told Ciendriel as she approached him to check on the now non-existent wound on his head. He liked being fussed over by her.

“I know. You stink.”

Haldir frowned. “Then if you’ll excuse me, I’m going down to the stream.”

He started to get up but she put a hand on his shoulder. “No.”

“No?”

“Not alone, Haldir. It isn’t safe.”

“Then come with me.”

“That isn’t safe, either. Not for me.”

He smiled at her slowly. “Won’t the Mortamoris protect you from my unwanted advances?”

She had the good grace to blush. The blush suited her. It made his blood rush, and he was sure the herb’s span of influence was very limited. In fact, surely it was nearly gone from his bloodstream. There was only one way to find out, and that was to get her down to the stream. Or Legolas, perhaps. He and Legolas had spoken little these past three days. Haldir didn’t know what the younger Elf was thinking. In some ways it saddened him. In others, it irritated him.

“I am certain you can wait until your brothers return from their patrol, so they can escort you,” she said calmly, then she moved away from him, going to join Legolas, Frodo and Gimli.

That could be hours. Haldir glowered at her back. Slowly and quietly he rose to his feet. He was going to have a bath and he didn’t need anyone’s permission to do it!

***

Angelica and Pippin ran playfully through the woods, not too far from the camp site. The sun was setting, peeping through the trees. The last three days had been wonderful, Angelica thought. They had caught up on their sleep, she had easily avoided Haldir completely, and Pippin... Pippin had been nothing but sweet, adorable and lovely.

He was very energetic, she thought. Making love with him was like being caught in the center of a whirlwind.

It bothered her that Merry refused to come and play with them any more. In fact, he had been anything but merry lately. She had tried to kiss him, and he turned her away. He was acting worse than Sam had back in Rivendell.

“You know what I’d like, Angelica?” Pippin said, grinding to a halt. Angelica stopped running as well, catching her breath as she shook her head.

“No, what?”

“A pipe. Remember how I was wanting a pipe?”

“A pipe is little good without pipe weed.”

“I was drying some out, but I lost it when the cart overturned. Help me find some more.”

“All right, darling, but you will still have to dry it out.”

Pippin sighed, and to cheer him, Angelica looked around for the weed that so many Hobbits loved to smoke. Soon they found the correct plant and began plucking it in big handfuls.

“I have a brilliant idea!” Pippin said.

“Tell me!”

“Hurry, back to the camp!” Pippin started running back to the camp, and Angelica ran after him. They both were clutching big handfuls of the pipe weed. Ahead, Angelica could see everyone gathered around the fire. No, not everyone. Haldir wasn’t there. Sam, Merry, Frodo, Gimli, Ciendriel, and Legolas sat in a semi-circle around the crackling blaze. Rúmil and Orophin had just come up behind Legolas and Ciendriel.

“Pippin, slow down,” Angelica panted.

“Merry! Merry! I just had a brilliant idea!” Pippin called, heading straight towards the camp.

“Pippin look out for the fire!”

Pippin ground to a halt. Angelica plowed into him from behind. Both of them let fly the armloads of pipe weed they were carrying as they went flat down on their faces. The plants fell into the fire and ignited more quickly than Angelica had ever seen a green plant do before. They billowed up an enormous cloud of smoke that made everyone start coughing.

“Pippin! What did you do?” Merry cried.

“Blazing blossoms, what was that plant?” Gimli choked out.

“Pipe...weed...” Pippin coughed.

Angelica found herself in the middle of a sneezing fit.

“Pipe weed? Green pipe weed? We’ve got to put out the fire,” Sam cried. “It’s going to make us all loony.”

Frodo splashed a bucket of water over the fire, but it still sent up another cloud of sweetly scented smoke. Angelica could hear all the others coughing and choking as well. Sam was trying to warn them all not to inhale the smoke, but there was no way for any of them to avoid it. She saw Haldir’s brothers drop to their knees. She closed her watery eyes and reached out for Pippin, who clutched at her...

“I’m sorry,” he said in a scratchy voice.

“Oh, my,” she heard Gimli say. “It does have a rather pleasant odor, doesn’t it?”

“It’s...” Legolas began, and then he said something in Elvish that Angelica didn’t understand. She gathered it was funny, however, since Ciendriel, Rúmil, and Orophin had degenerated into hysterics over it. Angelica frowned. Legolas was not the type to be making jokes.

“It’s going to be harder on the Elves...it will last longer -- Elves never smoke,” Sam said. “And...Frodo... Frodo? Your eyes... they’re so...big...and... how do you make them look that way?”

“What?” said Frodo.

“This reminds me of a joke,” said Gimli. “A Dwarf walks into a tavern, and says to the bar keep...”

Angelica tuned him out as Pippin rolled over on top of her. He kissed her slowly on the mouth. He tasted of smoke and peppermint.

“Lovely, lovely Angelica,” he sighed against her lips.

***

Ciendriel had tears in her eyes from laughing so hard. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed this hard. She sagged against Legolas and he put his arms around her, holding her close against him. Orophin and Rúmil were on the ground behind them, also in hysterics. Her eyes were running with tears, partially from the smoke, and partially from laughing so hard. It occurred to her that laughing was making them inhale more of the green smoke, but she couldn’t stop herself.

Legolas felt so warm. She nuzzled his cheek, then licked his ear, and felt him shudder in her arms. Suddenly she wanted to be alone with him, even if the Mortamoris was still working on him. At the very least he could pleasure her in the same way he had in the meadow that fateful afternoon when Haldir had been taken by the Orcs.

But where was Haldir? Still clinging to Legolas, she forced her eyes open and looked blearily around. Pippin and Angelica were one mass on the ground near the fire. Merry, Sam, and Frodo were all listening to Gimli’s long-winded joke with rounded eyes and open mouths, as if they were fascinated. Maybe they were.

Orophin and Rúmil had fallen silent, so Ciendriel turned in the other direction to look at them. They were wrapped up in each other on the ground in a similar fashion to Pippin and Angelica. She blushed a little. They were brothers! And yet there was something erotic in watching the two beautiful Elves kiss each other with excruciatingly slow tenderness. Legolas turned to see what she was looking at. She heard him sigh with appreciation.

“They’ve always been that way,” he said.

“Legolas...where is Haldir?”

“I....don’t know.”

Orophin lifted his head. “Haldir the Stinky, Marchwarden of the Bog of Eternal Stench?”

Rúmil giggled from beneath his brother and sang, “My lovely, stinking rose weed!”

Legolas groaned. “Not you, too.”

“Stinky!” said Ciendriel, “That’s it! The bastard has sneaked off to the river to wet himself.”

“To do what?” said Legolas.

“To bathe! Come on! We are going to stop him,” she rose to her feet, pulling Legolas up with her, and they both stumbled away from the fire.

“Don’t stop him! Let him bathe!” Orophin called after them as she tugged Legolas down the path to the water’s edge.

There was a large rock by the stream, and she pulled Legolas down behind it. She was conscious of his warm body pressed to hers. She turned and kissed him on the mouth, almost forgetting why they were there. Oh, yes, Haldir. Leaving Legolas breathless and panting, she climbed up to peek over the rock. There he was.

The Marchwarden stood in the middle of the stream, letting the water flow all around him. His face was turned up to the moonlight, as if he were enjoying its caress just as much as that of the water. His hair was wet. His body was flawless. All of his wounds had healed, and he looked golden and beautiful. Ciendriel swallowed hard.

“Is he all right?” Legolas whispered.

“Look...”

Legolas crept up beside her. His blue eyes grew round and wide, and Ciendriel knew that he saw Haldir the way she did in that moment. He clutched her hand, then turned and looked at her. She kissed him again and tasted the sweet flavor of the smoke on his breath. It enflamed her.

Suddenly she heard Haldir laugh. She turned her gaze back to him. He was looking at the pair of them, grinning wickedly. They stared back at him for a long, long moment.

“Don’t just stand there staring at me. Strip off your clothing and come in,” he said in a seductive tease of a purr.

To Ciendriel, this sounded like quite a wonderful idea...