This is a totally random story that I wrote for a writing prompt for school. This takes place in Middle-earth, only it involves a modern human and a modern taxi...
Reviews are greatly appreciated! :) (Please)


"See you at home, Uncle Thorin!" Thorin's nephews Fíli and Kíli waved good-bye and continued on their way. The two, as always, were full of energy, but Thorin on the other hand was downright exhausted and had to get a ride home.

So why on Middle-earth was this strange-looking yellow wagon parked right next to him? Seeing no other option, he opened the door and got inside.

Azog?!
He inwardly shouted at the sight of the pale orc. Azog turned and bared pointed teeth in an evil grin at his ancient enemy. "Hello, Dwarf-scum." he sneered in orc-language.

Thorin's first instinct was to immediately get out of the taxi and walk home no matter how tired he was. The problem was that the doors wouldn't open. (They were locked, but he didn't know how this machine operated, so he was basically trapped inside.) He tried using his sword, Orcrist, but nothing happened. Lowering his blade but not sheathing it, he took a deep breath. Keeping one eye on Azog, he inwardly cursed himself for letting Fíli and Kíli arrange his ride home.

There was (tension-filled) silence between the enemies for the first ten minutes. Despite his misgivings about being locked in, Thorin had to admit that this yellow wagon was moving quite swiftly and smoothly. He would get home faster than if he had traveled on a pony.

"This is my territory," Thorin informed the orc, cutting a thin line in the leather with Orcrist.

"Says who?" retorted Azog. Using his scimitar, he drew a line that crossed Thorin's. "This is my territory, Dwarf-scum."

Thorin responded by drawing a line that crossed both lines. "Cross it again, and I'll cut your other hand off." he threatened.

The conflict only escalated from there. No longer able to stand being within six feet of each other, Thorin and Azog unbuckled their seatbelts, brandished their weapons, and lunged at each other with unabashed fury and zeal. Orcrist and Azog's scimitar clashed in midair, creating vibrations that seemed to shake the atmosphere in the taxi.

The taxi driver looked at his mirror to see his strange-looking passengers dueling in the backseat! He sighed. He had mistaken Azog to be an adult going to some costume convention. And just earlier two short men— one had a long golden beard and the other was only just growing his— had shown up in funky old-fashioned clothing and requested a ride for their uncle, whom the driver assumed was the short man wearing the fur coat. Now they were wielding genuine swords in his cab?! The poor driver was absolutely terrified.

It was only when Azog was thrown out of the open window that Thorin calmed down, put his sword away, and sat back down, acting as though the fight never happened.