Aragorn peered sharply upward. "The shortest distance between two points is a straight line, Legolas."

"Not," the Elf insisted, "when one is in a tree."

Boromir gently tapped the handle of a rake against the slender branch which held a large, gold and red apple. It fell neatly into his waiting hand with that sort of small, satisfying plock that hints of crunch and sweet juice. "Straight line," he taunted, "from tree to me."

"Thief! I was aiming for that one!"

"Come and get it, then!"

Legolas dropped swiftly from his perch to a spot on the grass very near where Boromir had been just a heartbeat earlier. "Brigand! Get back here with my apple!"

Boromir waved the lovely apple at him from behind a rose bush.

Smoking his pipe in the shade, Gimli watched with an amused expression as Man and Elf began a swift, darting pursuit round the garden, laughing as they dodged about trees, and over - and alas, sometimes through - flower beds.

At last Aragorn had had enough of this nonsense, particularly as the marigolds were looking a bit harried, and reprimanded loudly, "You two! How old - how many years has it been now, since you were twelve years old?"

Legolas and Boromir, panting for breath (more so Boromir than Legolas, though he might dispute this), halted in their tracks and blinked at Aragorn, who regarded them with what he hoped was a Stern Expression.

Boromir merely shrugged at the king's question, keeping a wary eye on Legolas.

Legolas raised a thoughtful eyebrow. "Three thousand years, give or take."

"Great heavens!" Boromir grinned madly and bounced on the balls of his feet. "No wonder you've slowed down!"

The Elf snapped something rude in Sindarin and lunged after his already sprinting friend.

Their chase took them to the rear of the fern shed, where they disappeared from view.

Aragorn and Gimli heard the dull noise of a heavy body falling onto the grass behind the shed, the quick, rolling sound of Boromir's helpless laughter, something sharp muttered in Elvish, and then... nothing.

King and Dwarf waited for Steward and Prince to emerge from the other side of the fern shed. Minutes passed. Aragorn thought he heard what might have been a squeak, or possibly a gurgle, but otherwise there was nothing.

At last Gimli pressed his palms against his knees and rose with a little grunt from his comfortable seat. "Well, we shan't see them for a while, I suppose. Fancy a pint?"

Aragorn allowed himself to be guided toward the kitchens. "When exactly did I utterly lose control here?"

Gimli lay a comforting hand on his back. "A long time ago, my friend. A very long time ago."


end