Chapter 385: Levi's Silence
Once the proper courtesies were finished, it was time for the feast's most classic event.
"No stopping, no spilling, and absolutely no… chewing it back up," Gimli declared as he accepted a full cup from Théodred, laying down the rules for tonight's contest.
Legolas lifted his own drink, studying it with calm curiosity. "So it is a drinking competition?"
"Yes. What? Have you never had ale before?"
Boromir came over as he spoke, a cup in hand. A moment ago, he had been talking with Théoden, and the two of them had looked genuinely pleased, as if they had found plenty in common.
Especially when it came to speeches. They agreed that in a solemn moment, there was no need for flowery words. Sincere feeling and respect mattered more, and the speech itself was better kept short.
"Well then," Boromir said, eyeing Legolas's frown at the barley ale, "did your father never teach you how to drink at home?"
Gimli immediately rushed in to fan the flames, laughing loud enough to shake his beard. "What is wrong with our little Woodland princess? Want us to swap that out for some fruit juice?"
By now, the Dwarf and the Elf were close friends, and bickering like this had become routine.
This time, though, Legolas did not snap back. He only shook his head quietly. "No. I can drink a little."
He looked again at the cup, as if uncertain. "It is just that this ale tastes… thin."
"Thin?" Gimli leaned in, his nose practically brushing the rim.
It was fine barley ale from Rohan's best brewers. Strong enough to warm the belly of any man or dwarf, with a rich, hearty bite that was anything but mild.
Had the Elf's nose stopped working?
"Then tell me," Gimli demanded, "what do you usually drink?"
"Usually? I usually do not drink," Legolas said after thinking a moment. "But on certain festivals, my father brings out fine wines from Roadside Keep and Dorwinion for our people to taste."
"The one I remember most was a clear, white spirit. The first time I ever got drunk was because of it. That was a long time ago, when I visited Levi at Roadside Keep. That drink was called… Vodka, I think. I drank several barrels."
"Never heard of it. I still prefer ale brewed from wheat," Gimli said, shaking his head.
"What could be more intoxicating than that fresh barley scent, and the sweetness that comes back at the end?"
"Stop making excuses, Legolas. Come on, drink!"
"Let me join in," Boromir said eagerly, dropping into a seat beside them with his cup already ready.
"Wait."
Legolas stopped them.
"And now what?" Gimli asked, suspicious.
"I want to invite someone to join us," Legolas said. "You do not mind, do you?"
"Of course not. The more people, the livelier it gets," Gimli said at once. "Who are you calling over?"
"Levi. Last time I drank in front of him, I lost. But it never felt quite right. I want a rematch."
"That is perfect. Go, hurry!" Gimli said, suddenly thrilled. "I have wanted to try this for ages, but never had the chance."
"Interesting," Boromir said, anticipation plain on his face. He glanced around. "Though Levi does not seem to be in the hall."
Levi was not in the hall.
At that moment, he was outside, in the louder open-air feast, raising cups with his own soldiers. From time to time, Rohan's defenders came over to trade stories, and both sides talked until they were laughing like old friends.
When the joy was at its peak, Théoden and Théodred came as well, speaking on behalf of Rohan to offer thanks. They stayed and spoke with Levi for a while longer.
And while they were talking, Legolas arrived.
He explained what he wanted.
Levi had no reason to refuse.
Yet the moment Legolas led him back into the hall, Levi began to regret agreeing.
With Boromir and Gimli as witnesses, Legolas stared straight at Levi and said, very clearly, "This time, no milk."
The smile slowly drained from Levi's face.
This was bad.
A smile, after all, never truly disappears. When it leaves one face, it always shows up on another.
Legolas smiled as he raised his cup. "I will be watching you the whole time. Come. Let us celebrate this victory."
He drank, quietly and neatly, finishing it in one go.
"Not bad. You have some nerve," Gimli said, refusing to be outdone. He lifted his cup and chugged.
Boromir followed right after him, tilting his head back and emptying his drink without even a hiccup.
All three of them turned to Levi and held up their empty cups.
Levi started sweating.
A sense of danger, sharper than anything he had felt tonight, rose from the bottom of his heart.
The night grew deeper.
The feast reached its height, and the heat in the hall only grew.
"Burp…"
No one knew how long they had been drinking when Gimli let out a loud burp and started talking nonsense.
A tall stack of empty cups had already risen on the table in front of him. On the floor, several empty barrels lay scattered like fallen soldiers.
"Ha, ha… come on! Keep having fun!"
He drank again, gulp after gulp.
Beside him, Boromir's face was flushed red. He had begun holding his head, and he could barely stay upright.
Anyone could see it. Those two were at their limit.
And then there was the other side.
Levi leaned back in his chair, quiet as a statue. He drank one cup after another, unhurried and elegant.
Legolas still sat straight as a spear. His pace never slowed. He drank as steadily as he had from the beginning.
"I can feel it now," Legolas said after another cup. He lowered his gaze to his fingers.
Théodred, walking around the hall, caught those words and stopped. He braced a hand against a wooden beam and looked at Legolas, raising an eyebrow.
Legolas continued, thoughtful and calm. "My fingers went a little numb."
"This ale is finally starting to affect me."
Théodred's face filled with disbelief.
An Elf, really?
"What did I tell you!" Gimli slurred, already half-lost to the drink, laughing at him. "He cannot hold his ale at all. I told you, he… burp…"
Thunk.
Before Gimli could finish, he toppled over.
He was asleep.
A bit of foam ran from the corner of his mouth. It was not dignified.
"You are out," Legolas said, calmly declaring Gimli's defeat.
Then he looked to the other side, to Boromir, whose head was already swaying.
Legolas leaned closer, almost gentle, his voice carrying genuine concern. "If you cannot drink anymore, then do not…"
Bang.
Boromir slammed his cup down on the table as if he had been gravely insulted. He pointed at Legolas, teeth clenched, every word dragged out with effort.
"Do not get smug, Elf. There is still someone here who has not fallen…"
Then his body went slack, and he collapsed forward onto the table, asleep.
Clearly, the one who had not fallen was not Boromir.
And the only one left, still upright, could only be Levi.
"Then we continue," Legolas said, raising his cup and drinking in small sips.
Levi leaned back in his chair, silent, doing nothing but repeating the same two motions. He poured, and he drank.
Even when the barrel was empty, he still repeated it, trying to draw more from it.
Passing by, Théodred noticed. Without hesitation, he replaced Levi's barrel with a full one, making sure the contest could go on.
"As expected of a legend," people murmured. "He has drunk a Dwarf, and Gondor's commander under the table, and his face has not changed at all."
"Now it is just him against that Elf."
The drinking went on for a long time.
As the hours slipped by and the empty barrels were stacked in several tall layers, even Legolas finally began to falter.
He looked at Levi and said, "My head feels numb, and my fingers are not listening to me anymore. Yet you are still exactly as you were at the start, without the slightest change."
"I thought your tolerance was some sort of trick. Now it seems I truly was too suspicious."
"The contest is over. You win."
Legolas accepted it completely and went off to rest.
Levi said nothing. He stayed where he was, still pouring, still drinking.
"My lord, let me offer you a toast."
After Legolas left, Théodred came over, equally impressed. He raised his cup, trying to clink it against Levi's.
Levi did not speak. He still repeated the same mechanical motion, over and over.
Watching the entire contest, Théodred finally sensed something wrong. He tried calling out twice, but got no response.
Slowly, he stepped closer and waved a hand in front of Levi's face.
"My lord?"
"My lord?!"