Simple Pleasures, And All That by Fernstrike

Simple Pleasures

Isildur and Thranduil discuss wine and attempt to discuss battle plans. 

inspired by the Last Alliance fic I’m working on (and will probably make its way into it!). Based on the idea of rum rations in WWI.

Prompts: Alcohol, groups, elimination, bond

Isildur lifted the uncorked bottle close to his face, reading the inscription of origin and age, then lowered it and sniffed appreciatively. “I have to be very honest, I did not truly expect any of the elven leaders to bring anything more than their golden cordial here."

Thranduil paused in his placement of markers on the map of the eastern flank of the great army, where his and Isildur’s forces were stationed at a northerly tangent to the Tower. “In one thing your and my people agree,” he replied, rolling his shoulder that had been dislocated during that morning’s skirmish. “There’s enough disaster happening out here. Let’s not deny our troops a wine ration if it keeps them bonded to the mission and each other. Simple pleasures and all that.”

“But this isn’t, I assume, that favoured vintage you told me about?”

Thranduil threw him a sour look. “Come help me determine how we’ll eliminate the Easterlings dug into these southeastern pits or you’ll never get a chance to try it."