Two flat whites, a dwarf and a spook

By Leah Day

Summary

The sequel to "The party" Whilst the others are renovating Nottingham Castle for John and Margaret's engagement bash, Cousin Destiny takes Thorin and Lucas out for a flat white. What will Cousin Rochelle make of this?

Can our cutie from Tasmania recruit Thorin Oakenshield, king of the dwarves and the recently deodorised Lucas North, who really prefers long and short blacks …. ?

We shall see!

Characters making appearances are as follows?

Cousin Destiny-3 flat whites

Cousin Rochelle-3 flat whites

Jane Tarrant-Collision

Thorin Oakenshield-The hobbit

Bombur -The hobbit

Bofur-The Hobbit

Kili-The Hobbit

Fili-The Hobbit

Claude Monet-The impressionists

Lucas North-Spooks

Lady Marian-Robin Hood BBC

Sir Guy of Gisborne-Robin Hood BBC

Disclaimer

I do not own a thing. Rated M to be safe and one sulking king of the dwarves. Written in Australian and pommy English.

A café in London

"Are you ready for the awesome power of … the flat white?" Destiny asked, leaning over the table, her cardi conveniently hiding her bosom thus peeving Lucas North who had been hoping to cop an eyeful.

"I don't think he is, Cousin Destiny," Cousin Rochelle whispered, eying the tall spook suspiciously. "He's an all blacks man."

"No, I just prefer my coffee without milk," Lucas corrected tetchily. "The kiwis are rubbish."

"Like I said," growled Cousin Rochelle. "An all blacks man. You're dating the enemy, Cousin Destiny. Next thing you know you'll be ordering peppermint tea and hot chocolate with whipped cream and sprinkles."

"I'm not dating-"

"I'm too important for this!" a loud voice boomed from around a corner, interrupting Cousin Destiny's protest and Lucas's' grumble of disappointment.

The door for the café flew open, and after a rather long trumpet announcement, a royally, pardon the pun, pissed off king of the dwarves stomped into the cafe, glaring up at everyone and everything, even making the occasional baby cry as he passed.

"Well, well, well …. If it isn't the short barrel of laughs," Lucas drawled from his stool.

"You do not call me short!" Thorin barked. "You sizeist oaf!"

"I don't think that's an actual word, do you, Cousin Destiny?" Cousin Rochelle asked, eying both man and dwarf with equal suspicion.

"Where did you say you were from again?" Lucas asked Rochelle.

"Tasmania," she replied crisply.

"Funny, you sound more like a kiwi to me," The section chief said, eyes narrowing. "How do I know you're not here to spy on us?"

Rochelle hardly seemed cowed by the question. She was about to shrewdly reply when Jane Tarrant popped over carrying three flat whites.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Destiny demanded snappishly, blue irises shooting daggers at the smiling, golden Jane.

Thorin, annoyed no one was paying attention to him, glared up at the young women.

Dearest reader of this full of utter crap tale. One must be aware that this positively naughty lusty puppy of a dwarf would never let anyone know about this, one must acknowledge that he was hoping there would be a catfight between the two ladies.

True, they did not have beards, but oh …. Middle Earth! Their bottoms, their noses and those nice bre- blue eyes. Yes! That was it, blue eyes! So nice and round and-stop it! Twas not kingly to go over the top!

Hang on … Was that putrid human thinking the same thing as well? He seemed to be peering rather closely at the scrumptious wench who called herself, Destiny.

Right! That was it! He had some wooing to do!

"Bombur," the bombastic king of the dwarves bellowed from over his shoulder, hopping madly up and down. "Bombur!"

"Keep your voice down!" Lucas growled then smiled dazzlingly at Jane who missed it because she was trying to explain to Cousin Destiny and Cousin Rochelle why cappuccinos' were not from Satan's scrotum.

Destiny, however, caught the smile and asked him if he was in pain.

"I'm too important to keep my voice down!" Thorin replied, stamping his feet, nearly losing his trackie dacks in the process.

"Oh gawd," groaned Rochelle.

"Bombur!"

OoO

With a macadamia, white chocolate and blueberry muffin stuffed in his gob, Bombur waddled towards the group.

In the fat dwarfs hands was a tray laden with dark chocolate, chilli-flavoured macaroons.

"What took you so long, Bombur?" Thorin growled, glaring balefully at the ginger haired dwarf.

"Munch, munch, munch!"

"That's no excuse!"

"Munch, munch, munch!"

"You'll have to try harder!"

"Crunch!"

"Still not good enough!"

OoO

"How do we know he's not trying to poison us?" Lucas demanded sceptically.

"You try one and then we'll all know," Cousin Rochelle replied wryly, wiping her spectacles.

Lucas, who always relished a challenge, gave the bowl of dark brown and red delicacies a look of immense trepidation.

"Chilli does something to me," he said, somewhat uneasy. "I'm not really built for chilli consummation."

This made Thorin feel somewhat sadistic.

"I'm sure a fine specimen like yourself would be able to ignore such a compliant and rise to the occasion?"

"What are you implying, barrel?"

The king of the dwarves puffed up his chest, thus making him raucously wider, not taller.

"I propose a macaroon eating contest!" he declared pompously. "There are two hundred macaroons. The competitor who consumes the most, who is still standing and not dripping head to toe in milk, orange juice and cucumbers, shall receive the chance to woo, uninterrupted, the crumpet-er-maiden of his choice!"

"Sounds interesting," Rochelle muttered, adding. "Not!"

The spooks nostril's flared.

"Here we go," muttered Jane to her fellow female companions.

OoO

"Are we ready?" Bombur asked, munching on his muffin.

"This going to be sooooooo embarrassing," Cousin Rochelle grumbled.

"Thought you'd get off on this kind of thing?" Lucas leered.

Destiny and Jane strode into the room wearing T-Shirts. Jane's had a royal blue "T" whilst Destiny's bore a lavender "L"

Thorin arched an eyebrow.

"Lavender? I thought the letters would be in blue?"

"Lavender's very manly!" Lucas declared manfully.

Bombur decided to step in.

"Actually Fili and Kili put a spot of pink in the …. Oh … never mind. I think I need another muffin."

OoO

"Ready barrel?"

"You'll be sorry for making that insult in my presence you dishonourable descendant of a rat!"

"Ahem? Gents!" Rochelle, who had offered to referee, called out. "Are we ready?"

"I just asked him that?" Lucas complained.

"Come on, Bombur, we're hungry!" Thorin roared, banging his fist.

"Waaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiit!"

Everyone looked up then groaned when Claude Monet, closely followed by members of Thorin Oakenshield's company, Kili, Fili and Bofur, burst into the cafe.

"I'm here to paint the victor's portrait!" Claude panted after pulling to a screeching halt beside the three smirking dwarfs. "I'm so desperate to paint something, that vile Marian chased me out of the castle!"

"Actually, it was the bride," Bofur admitted, taking his hat off, winking at the surprised Rochelle whose glasses were sliding off her nose.

"Hot dwarfs!" she gasped, agog, staring wide eyed at Kili and Fili. "I want to take them both home with me and teach them all about Bat Marbles!"

"She fancies me!" Bofur exclaimed.

"And we've lost our referee," muttered Cousin Destiny, rolling her eyes in vexation.

Thorin glared balefully at the newly arrived members of his company and the overly enthusiastic painter. This was unjust! If one forgot about the prat of a painter, they would realise that he was the hottest dwarf in Middle Earth and he had more beard then those two upstarts! And … Waaaaiiiiiit …. He didn't really have more beard. Twas little more then stubble.

Soddit!

Back to more cantankerous-ness-ness-ness.

Ness.

Ne-Wait a minute!

That dastardly Rochelle was not the pretty wench he was guzzling Chili Flavoured Dark Chocolate Macaroons for!

The fair-haired, doe eyed, Jane was his for the wooing!

Well, he would be the victor or he would go out in a rolling blaze of glory that would make Gandalf proud! And he would do his nut if those ruddy nephews of his laid a grubby paw, nay, a finger on the strumpet-erm-crumpet-um-woman!

OoO

"And they're off!" Bofur yelled.

"No they're not! Lucas, you start on my first whistle!" Kili instructed in a Scottish accent.

"Thorin, you will start on my second whistle!" Fili added in a similar fashion.

"What's with the Scottish accent?" Jane asked, trying to ignore Claude who had succumbed to his drastic need to paint something and was frantically painting messy portraits of all the onlookers.

"Who cares? We're going to here all night!" Cousin Rochelle complained then batted her eyes at a rather unnerved Fili.

"Get the macaroon and stuff it!" Bombur said, patting his globular tummy. "That's what I always do."

Lucas, determined not to go down as a wuss, reached for a macaroon …

Nottingham castle, the great hall

"Oh Gogmas!"

"Oh fluffydums!"

"Oh Gog-"

WHOOSH!

"Guy, is that a flying fireball?"

"No Marian, it's my manhood!" Gisborne growled, peeved that she had averted her eyes from his magnificent display.

"I'm not talking about that oversized eggplant!" Marian snapped. "Get off the table and look out the window! I swear I saw a flying fireball!"

"You do not talk about my manhood like that!"

"Oh stop over reacting," the noblewoman grumbled, rolling her eyes. "Pull up your braise and hose and let's go and investigate!"

'I might even change into the night-watchman,' she thought gleefully as she glided purposefully towards the doorway.

The end ….

Next time!

Will Marian get a chance to change into the heroine with the really annoying theme tune? Who was the flying fireball? Is Guy sexier than Eric Northman? And is Eric's manhood akin to an eggplant as well?

Annnnnddddd …. Are cappuccinos really from Satan's scrotum? Will Margaret and John have their wedding in Nottingham Castle?

Find out more in the third part in the RA and LG character insanity series!