Disclaimer - I don't own any of this really, except maybe the characters that are me and my friend (Honest, were not Mary-Sues, mainly as my mates a guy and were completely truthful about ourselves) and the insane plot of doom.

A/N - I thought of this, and started writing it while completely hyper on Dr Pepper and Altoids. Thus being, I apologise for any illness reading this may cause you. For privacy reasons we use different names but I assure you, these are our true selves. This is my first shot at a LOTR fic (This is my first shot isn't it? yes it is!) so it probably wont be very good. I don't have very high expectations. It is based mainly on the films as I really need to read the books again but I don't have the time.

Living with LOTR:
Murder and Cookies

Henk lay in a sprawled heap on the cold oak hardwood floor in front of the majestic old fireplace. His eyes were glassy and stared into space, almost looking at something no-one else could see. At first glimpse you wouldn't have noticed the large steak knife sticking out of his back…

I walked in, carrying the exceedingly large and heavy tray of cookies that Henk had requested I buy on my visit to the local supermarket. His part of the deal was to move all the boxes into their appropriate rooms. As soon as I'd got back, I realised he hadn't done it anyway. He's a lazy git if you don't watch him constantly.

By the way, I'm Libby. My best mate Henk and I decided on moving into a house together, so we could live with someone other than our parents. He's 4 years older than me, but he's still one big kid.

I might as well tell you what were like while I'm at it. Well, he's a tall, strong Dutch guy, with short brownish black hair, large blue almost puppy dog like eyes and one hell of a smart yet funny personality. I, on the other hand, am slightly taller than I should be, long straight dark brown hair, green eyes hidden by light yet permanent glasses, with a very twisted sense of humour probably due to the fact I'm considered intelligent.

Placing the tray down on a slightly undersized and worn looking end table next to the new three-seater-sofa, I noticed the knife out of the corner of my eye. Straightening up, I looked at his body lying on the floor decisively. Sighing, I walked over to him before unceremoniously kicking him in the arm.

"Get up Henk. That trick may work on some people, but my name isn't gullible."

"Ow," he yelped, "there was no reason for that mindless violence you know."

Pulling the knife from his back, the blade slid back out as I collapsed onto the sofa. I started examining it, wondering where on earth he got a stage prop like that from.

"To answer your question," Henk answered standing up to brush himself off, "I found it in a box in the basement."

"It's a cellar, mate. In England we call basements cellars." I said, still examining the sharp edge.

"Whatever you say."

In the silence of me still looking at the knife and Henk picking out a specific cookie to eat, the house seemed eerie. Frightening almost. It was an old manor house situated in the Yorkshire countryside. We had bought it from our combined funds for a bargain price, mainly due to the fact the previous owner needed a quick sale and it needed extensive renovation done to it. Henk had liked it on account that 'we can have massive parties here and no-one would complain about the noise'. Like I said, he is a seriously big kid sometimes.

"What time is it?"

The sudden sound of his voice made me jump, and the knife which I had been running across my finger pierced the flesh as my hands moved. It fell out of my grasp and landed on a floor with a dull clank.

"Ow," I said instinctively, stopping the blood flow with pressure from my other hand, "that hurt."

"That was a bit stupid wasn't it," Henk sighed as he sat down next to me to inspect my finger, "you should be glad it's not rusty. You might've got tetanus from it."

He peered in closer at the cut, which was slowly but surely clotting up.

"It'll be ok, don't worry. What is the time anyway?"

Glancing at my watch, I realised it was already 9:30pm.

"9:30," I said before realising he measured time differently to me, "21:30. Any more questions master?"

"No, your ok," he replied with a large grin on his face, "want to come to bed then?"

Smiling back at him, I shook my head.

"I'm going to bed on my own thank you very much. Goodnight Henk."

"Night Libby."

We both stood up at the same time, and started on our way to the main door out into the hallway that contained the stairs to the upper floors. Suddenly, Henk turned around and vaulted over the sofa, before grabbing the final cookie and running back to the door.

"I forgot this."

Shaking my head in comic disbelief, I made my way up the aged staircase to my bedroom on the second floor, leaving Henk to go to the opposite end of the corridor to get to his room. As soon as I got inside and closed the door I collapsed onto the bed and fell into a deep dreamless sleep, not even bothering to get changed.