Disclaimer: *sigh* Not mine…I mean, seriously…do I really look that much like Tolkien???

A/N: This story was greatly inspired by my friend, Erika, and the thing with Arwen and the doll (you’ll see) was her idea.

A/N2: just in case you didn’t know, Estel is Aragorn….

A/N3: Jo-Jo (ilovedolphins_2003) is my wonderful beta, so any mistakes…BLAME HER! *grin*

A/N4: Oh yeah, and the thing with the wine going bye-bye was also not my idea. =D

A/N5: lol, lotsa author’s notes. Anyway, this was written for the February MC Teitho Contest.

Ok, on to the story!

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“I think I’m…*hic*… winning!” came a voice from the kitchens.

“Not a chance, Blondie!” came a second.

“Well at least my *hic* hair isn’t all brown and scruffy!”

“It’s NOT *hic* scruffy! I’m just having a bad *hic* hair day!”

“Well then you must have them everyday…”

The first speaker merely “hmphed.”

“But look! Even the monkey says that I’m winning!” the first retorted.

“Well, my giraffe says *hic* that *I’m* winning!”

“You’ll never beat me. Never have, *hic* never will.”

Another “hmph” could be heard, this time from the second being.

“I have too! Remember that time with the *hic* ponies and the…the squirrels?” the second voice said defiantly.

“Ah, but you cheated, by blond-headed *hic* companion! The squirrel was supposed to *ride* the pony, not attack it!”

“Well it was still on the pony….”

“Oh! Look! A dolly! Hi, Dolly!” said the first voice gleefully.

“No, that’s Arwen’s dolly! But wait…it’s so *hic* cute!”

“My dolly!”

“No, *my* dolly!” the second voice shouted back.

“But I already named her Cynthia, so I should *hic* get to keep her!” the first replied, before several large slurps were heard from both parties.

“My wine went bye-bye…” the first voice pouted.

Another slurp was heard.

“Mine *hic* too…” the second said sadly.

“So…so I guess this *hic* means neither of us won,” the first said slowly.

“I guess so…*hic*…not much of a drinking game without wine,” the second voice observed thoughtfully.

A sharp knock was heard, and Aragorn burst through the door.

“Ada, I have – Ada??” he said, completely bewildered at the sight before him: two elven lords sitting on the floor, a doll between them. Empty cups were scattered about, and both lords sported a pouting look on their features.

“Ada…Glorfindel…what are you doing?” the young human asked in dismay.

“We were just *hic* having a drinking game…” Glorfindel, the second voice, trailed off.

“I feel like playing chess,” Elrond, who was indeed the first voice, said.

Estel looked at his father, disbelief marking his features, when all other conversation was cut off by Arwen’s sudden arrival.

“My doll!” she shrieked. “Give it back, now!” she demanded fiercely.

Estel turned his incredulous expression towards her now. ‘She walks in, her father and Glorfindel sitting on the floor, drunk as the day is long, and she wants her *doll* back??’ he thought to himself.

Glorfindel stood up and handed her the doll sheepishly.

“We named her Cynthia…” he said.

“Now son, *hic* never let Glorfy challenge you to a drinking game…it’s very, *hic* very, bad…” Elrond said, as serious as possible. “He cheats!” he added, so that only his son could hear.

“Ada, I think that lesson needs to be taught to yourself…”

Aragorn said, eyeing the empty cups.

“I feel….dizzy,” Glorfindel said suddenly. At this, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped to the floor.

Elrond giggled. “Told you I would win!”

Finis