It was three days after the battle of helms deep and the death of Saruman when Rohan gathered together in a feast to honour their fallen dead. Three days of recovering bodies and three days of burials. It was only when all the bodies they could find had been given their rights and sent off with a burial that Theoden had the beer barrels brought up from the cellars and the left over food from the harvest laid out across the tables of the great hall. Four members of the fellowship lingered at the back of the hall as men and women all lifted their cups in toast. "To our glorious dead", Theoden announced. It echoed back to him and as one the crowds drunk. Aragorn tipping his pint to his lips as Gandalf too a swig. Gimli downing it in four gulps while Legolas took a sip and placed it down on the table. In the centre of the room, lost amongst the sea of much taller humans, Merry and Pippin clanged their cups together and started chugging.

As the elf placed his cup on the table, he turned to the corner of the hall, a few feet to his left. Golden eyes reflected back from the gloom, the lights of the dozens of torches and candles illuminating the space flickering in their depths. Namir was standing against the wall and watching the beginning of the party with curious but cold eyes. At the shift of blonde hair, those golden eyes flicked to him and Namir tilted his head. Legolas could see his form in the shadows better than the humans around them. All the others would see would be an outline of a form and those reflective eyes. The elf could see that baggy clothes that hung on Namir's skinny frame and the long braid trailing down the man's back, already messy with wisps of wavy strands escaping the hold. Namir's skin had regained a little bit of colour in the three days they had spent recuperating. He had eaten good food and washed off the grime. Freedom and sunlight looked good on him.

"Is your betrothed going to linger in the shadows all night?" Gimli spoke up as he set down his second empty mug. Music had began playing and joyful sounds of laughter filled the air as people began dancing and feasting.

"Would you be accustomed to people after twenty years of captivity?" Legolas muttered back in answer.

Gimli grunted and shrugged. "You'd better get him some food. He is too skinny". The blonde let a small smile tug at his lips. The dwarf showed his care in his own way.

"Radag", Legolas called gently as he crossed to the corner. Namir looked up and the elf smiled at him. The skin changer blinked but smiled back as a hand was held out. "Come have some food". His tone was gentle, warm. It was easy for anyone to see how Namir melted into it. His shoulders relaxed and the alley cat tension that had been coiled in his frame unwound and he took the offered hand, clasping it tightly in his own. Legolas grinned at the victory and led the skin-changer to the closest table where Aragorn and Gimli were already seated. The man greeted them with a nod and pushed over a large plate full of meat and vegetables.

Namir seemed torn between watching the room and the people, and eating the food. A clang of steel as an already drunk soldier threw his helmet into the corner had him flinching and claws extending from his fingertips. Legolas squeezed the skin-changer's hand in gentle reminder and those claws retracted before they could pierce his skin. "Sorry", Namir muttered. The strands of hair curling over his scarred neck and dark eyes flickering from brown to gold as the firelights caught them.

"No need for apologies", Legolas reassured as he reached out with his free hand to cup the other's jaw and press their foreheads together for a second. Namir rubbed their noses together with a contented rumble in his throat before pulling away and letting go of his hand. The cat attacked the food with both hands, needing no cutlery other than his claws to tear the chicken from the bones and beef from the ribs. It was wild, savage yet remarkably clean. Each action done in a way that minimised the amount of mess. Legolas was just happy to see his too skinny mate eat. Within minutes the plate was empty apart from discarded bones and Namir was cleaning his hands with a cloth.

Gimli let out a barking laugh. "Now that's an appetite to match a dwarf. Good on you lad".

"I am not a child", Namir murmured back. He gave the dwarf a smile, teeth sharp. "I am older than Legolas here".

"Are you really?" Aragorn seemed amused. "Our elf friend has been hiding his age from us".

"I am three thousand and one hundred years", Namir spoke as he tucked the cloth back into a pocket and reach for a pint mug from a passing tray. The man holding it didn't even notice. "Legolas is two thousand and eight hundred and.." his brow creased and he turned to his lover. "I get lost on the little numbers".

"Two thousand, eight hundred and fifty four", Legolas stated. "You are three thousand, one hundred and twenty one".

"Am I?" Namir asked. He never kept track of each year, only sparing a thought to the decades and maybe centuries. Their two companions rolled their eyes at Legolas' age (elves and their long lives) but they had not expected Namir to be the older one.

"Do skin changers age like elves?" Aragorn asked curiously.

"Skin changers live long lives but no, they do eventually die of old age", Namir replied. His tone soft despite the noise of the festivities. "According to my father, the oldest skin changer lived to eight thousand and nine hundred". His tone took on a melancholy note at the mention of his father and he turned his gaze towards Legolas in a silent question.

"When this is over, I'll take you home", the elf promised. Namir beamed and leaned over to press his forehead to the blonde's shoulder in an affectionate bump.

"My blood father was an elf however", Namir continued. "I was adopted by my father after our people had been slaughtered. I chose an immortal life". Aragorn understood. Namir had made the choice that had been haunting Arwen, but he had chosen immortal to stay with his lover rather that of a mortal existence of a normal skin-changer lifespan with his father. Arwen faced the same but reversed.

A cheer went up and they glanced across the hall to see Merry and Pippin on a table top dancing with a crowd of men cheering them on. Gimli laughed. "That's how you party. Come on you three!" Then the dwarf was up and joining in with the crowd. Aragorn chuckled and stood up as well.

"Will you lovers be joining?" He asked teasingly. Namir blinked then grinned and stood up as well. Legolas let the cat pull him to his feet and tug him towards the crowd. The elf smiling in fond amusement and joy.

It was over an hour later that the blonde found himself standing at a table with Gimli and Eomer. The blonde rider of Rohan handing the elf and dwarf full pints of beer. "No pauses, no spills", he instructed.

"And no regurgitation", Gimli chuckled.

Legolas blinked. "So it's a drinking game?" To his right he could see Namir caught up in the dancing. His agile feet carrying him smoothly between the dancing couples, so graceful that he wasn't even spilling his pint. Alcohol had gone to his head but he was happy and that made the elf happy too.

"Last one standing wins", Gimli challenged as the men around them cheered and lifted their pints. Then they were drinking. Legolas found at the frothy liquid then lifted it to his lips and began to follow their example. One drink turned into four, four in to sixteen. Soon the table was covered in empty mugs as Eomer kept on handing out more.

The blonde was on his twenty seventh cup when Namir came bouncing over. Cat pupils wide and round in eagerness and excitement. "Mate", he greeted, head nuzzling into Legolas' neck as the elf automatically shifted to allow the greeting. He felt the air brush his skin as Namir let out a happy, tipsy sigh. One arm wrapping around the elf's waist as he folded himself into his side. "Have you been trapped in a drinking game?" He asked, braid swaying around his hips and he removed his head to survey the table.

"Trapped?" Eomer asked as he handed Gimli is twenty sixth pint. "The elf is winning".

"Its the dwarves who go swimming in the lakes with little hairy women", Gimli grunted and chuckled drunkenly. Namir laughed as Legolas frowned. Eomer watching them all with slightly horrified fascination.

"I feel something. A tingling in my fingers. I think it's affecting me".

Namir hummed and rested his head on the blonde's shoulder again as Gimli slammed his empty pint on the table and raised a shaky finger. The dwarf had foam all over his beard and nose. "What did I tell you?" he slurred half incomprehensible. "He can't hold his drink". Then his eyes crossed and he swayed in his chair. Namir reached out with one hand to give him a gentle poke on the forehead. Then the dwarf was tipping back in his seat and landing with a crash on the stone floor.

"What?" The cat blinked at both Eomer's and Legolas' stares. "I couldn't resist".

"Game over", Legolas smirked. Namir giggled, warm and loose with alcohol. He cupped the blonde's face in his hands and pulled him closer for a deep and messy kiss. Legolas folding into it and looping his arms over the brunette's shoulders as the two men began making out. Eomer raised his eyebrows at the sight.

"Obviously elves aren't as repressed as we thought", the man muttered as he left the table. The couple embracing behind him, Namir's purrs a rumble in his chest as the party continued around them.

unedited