Fellowship of the Dicks
By: Mika (FTLOASuzaku@hotmail.com) Co-sometimes-author: Reirei no miko (Reirei_no_miko@hotmail.com)
Notes:
1) We own nothing 2) We are Poor 3) We do this for fun- if you're offended, stop reading Thank you!
Chapter 1-The Dick
The tower stood ominously in the middle of Isengard. Below hundreds of thousands of Orcs screeched as they toiled endlessly, creating Sarumans' latest work of evil. In the tower, overlooking the plant and Fangorn Forest stood the White Wizard. His gleaming eyes surveyed the furtherment of his Lords' work as he contemplated the most recent passing of events.
Gandalf the Grey had escaped and his Lord was not pleased. The virtuous Grey Wizard had chosen to side with the allies of Middle Earth and before he could be executed, escaped.
Things were not going well.
He needed help.
Walking back into the tower room where the Palentir stood he decided that an outside source of knowledge and power would be needed. And he knew just where to get it. The inhabitants of Middle Earth were always star-gazing but little did they know that around each star were entire colonies of life- forms. And twenty thousand years into the future would be a civilization on a remote planet named Earth.
Why did they matter?
Because the great wizard Tolkien had escaped here, the fool believed that his knowledge of the future could be protected in the folds of time. Little had he suspected that his clever ploy of integrating his knowledge into storybooks on that futuristic planet would spread over the world, filling millions of minds with the story of Middle Earth. And all he had to do was go fetch one such mind and have them tell him the future.
Tolkien had not foreseen that particular twist in events, and he'd dropped a gift right into the one lap that he'd done so much to protect it from.
Saruman stood before his Palentir and stretched out his hand, this upcoming spell would be difficult and he needed his Lords' approval before attempting it.
* * * *
"There is no way in hell I'm putting on the dress!"
"Fine, I will."
"Hey, I've got two Café Mochas, a box of Timbits and three peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, who's hungry?"
"Coffee!"
"Sierra, what the hell would you do without Timmies?"
"Die, Lizzie, I'd die a very painful death."
"You're being just a little bit melodramatic, eh?"
Sierra rolled her eyes, it was a common thing for Beth to call her melodramatic when it was obvious the red-head was the true drama-queen of their circle. Nicole, their food bearer sat down heavily and passed out their orders. Taking a long pull of her coffee, two sugars and one cream, Nickey snuck a Tim Bit from Lizzie while snatching a chocolate chunk from Sierra.
"We were going to go wrestle Lizzie into that dress over there in the window." Sierra pointed lazily at a Victorian style dress.
Nicole glanced at it vaguely and shrugged, "Sea, I thought you were the one with the costume party to go to."
Sierra sighed heavily, "Yeah, but Lizzie looks so much better in costume, she can go instead."
"It's *your* big date, weren't you telling me about that romantic rendez- vous you had?" Lizzie quipped.
"Men are pigs." Sierra said dryly, "all of them, from everywhere, all men are pigs."
"Elves aren't!" Lizzie clapped, a smile brightening her face, "You'll just have to marry and elf!"
"Sorry, I seem to be misunderstood, anything with a DICK is a pig."
Nicole lifted an eyebrow and took another swig of coffee. After they were finished the girls went into the store and Elizabeth, their red-headed drama-queen tried on the dress. "So what do you think?" she exclaimed happily twirling for them.
Nicole ran a hand through her blue-streaked hair, "I think we've got a hockey game in twenty minutes. I will not miss Toronto getting smashed by Montreal because you're stuck in another dress."
"You're no fun, Nickey!" Lizzie pouted cutely all while turning around to change back.
* * * *
The power swirled around his open palm slowly opening a blackened gate before him. Beyond he saw the man that his lord desired him to capture. An easy target, there was no willpower, no fight and certainly no struggle ahead. He stepped up and through the portal, the spell taking him to his target effortlessly.
"What the fuck?" greeted his ears, and although the meaning of the words escaped him he could only imagine they were some sort of curse given the tone of voice with which they were said.
He stepped forward, his targets arm in his hand, he gripped it tightly, frowning at the other men nearby. "This is mine now, leave."
The captive said something he didn't catch and struggled futilely, attempting to pull away, it was all very cute.
The other pests looked at each other and back to him in something that should have resembled anger but looked more like constipation. "You are not taking her anywhere." One said, blue eyes flashing. "Especially not while we're around."
"Nickey he's got a staff!" his captive said, struggling all the more.
"So he's a possessive mental case, where's mall security?"
"Coming this way, Liz, we'll get him off you."
"I am Saruman the White, there is nothing you pathetic creatures can do, she's coming with me."
There was a moment of shocked silence. He charged his spell just as an elbow met his ribcage painfully. An arm found it's way to his jugular as he toppled backwards, his hand still clutching his target and his staff still glowing brightly. A burning pain ripped up his crotch as he felt the heel of a foot connect there even as he sent out his staff with a swing. He felt blood from his fingernails ripping into his captives arm even as she with the help of her friend tried to pull from his grip. The last of the three was dodging his staff as it swung left right and center out to hit everything it could.
The spell was charged.
His staff made contact with the side of one mans face even as she grabbed it and twisted it from his grip, there was a flash of light, a sick crunch of bones grinding and the hard contact of unforgiving marble floor meeting flesh. His mind was hazy, he was back beside his Palentir, staff-less, captive-less and sporting a broken wrist.
His Lord would not be pleased.
By: Mika (FTLOASuzaku@hotmail.com) Co-sometimes-author: Reirei no miko (Reirei_no_miko@hotmail.com)
Notes:
1) We own nothing 2) We are Poor 3) We do this for fun- if you're offended, stop reading Thank you!
Chapter 1-The Dick
The tower stood ominously in the middle of Isengard. Below hundreds of thousands of Orcs screeched as they toiled endlessly, creating Sarumans' latest work of evil. In the tower, overlooking the plant and Fangorn Forest stood the White Wizard. His gleaming eyes surveyed the furtherment of his Lords' work as he contemplated the most recent passing of events.
Gandalf the Grey had escaped and his Lord was not pleased. The virtuous Grey Wizard had chosen to side with the allies of Middle Earth and before he could be executed, escaped.
Things were not going well.
He needed help.
Walking back into the tower room where the Palentir stood he decided that an outside source of knowledge and power would be needed. And he knew just where to get it. The inhabitants of Middle Earth were always star-gazing but little did they know that around each star were entire colonies of life- forms. And twenty thousand years into the future would be a civilization on a remote planet named Earth.
Why did they matter?
Because the great wizard Tolkien had escaped here, the fool believed that his knowledge of the future could be protected in the folds of time. Little had he suspected that his clever ploy of integrating his knowledge into storybooks on that futuristic planet would spread over the world, filling millions of minds with the story of Middle Earth. And all he had to do was go fetch one such mind and have them tell him the future.
Tolkien had not foreseen that particular twist in events, and he'd dropped a gift right into the one lap that he'd done so much to protect it from.
Saruman stood before his Palentir and stretched out his hand, this upcoming spell would be difficult and he needed his Lords' approval before attempting it.
* * * *
"There is no way in hell I'm putting on the dress!"
"Fine, I will."
"Hey, I've got two Café Mochas, a box of Timbits and three peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, who's hungry?"
"Coffee!"
"Sierra, what the hell would you do without Timmies?"
"Die, Lizzie, I'd die a very painful death."
"You're being just a little bit melodramatic, eh?"
Sierra rolled her eyes, it was a common thing for Beth to call her melodramatic when it was obvious the red-head was the true drama-queen of their circle. Nicole, their food bearer sat down heavily and passed out their orders. Taking a long pull of her coffee, two sugars and one cream, Nickey snuck a Tim Bit from Lizzie while snatching a chocolate chunk from Sierra.
"We were going to go wrestle Lizzie into that dress over there in the window." Sierra pointed lazily at a Victorian style dress.
Nicole glanced at it vaguely and shrugged, "Sea, I thought you were the one with the costume party to go to."
Sierra sighed heavily, "Yeah, but Lizzie looks so much better in costume, she can go instead."
"It's *your* big date, weren't you telling me about that romantic rendez- vous you had?" Lizzie quipped.
"Men are pigs." Sierra said dryly, "all of them, from everywhere, all men are pigs."
"Elves aren't!" Lizzie clapped, a smile brightening her face, "You'll just have to marry and elf!"
"Sorry, I seem to be misunderstood, anything with a DICK is a pig."
Nicole lifted an eyebrow and took another swig of coffee. After they were finished the girls went into the store and Elizabeth, their red-headed drama-queen tried on the dress. "So what do you think?" she exclaimed happily twirling for them.
Nicole ran a hand through her blue-streaked hair, "I think we've got a hockey game in twenty minutes. I will not miss Toronto getting smashed by Montreal because you're stuck in another dress."
"You're no fun, Nickey!" Lizzie pouted cutely all while turning around to change back.
* * * *
The power swirled around his open palm slowly opening a blackened gate before him. Beyond he saw the man that his lord desired him to capture. An easy target, there was no willpower, no fight and certainly no struggle ahead. He stepped up and through the portal, the spell taking him to his target effortlessly.
"What the fuck?" greeted his ears, and although the meaning of the words escaped him he could only imagine they were some sort of curse given the tone of voice with which they were said.
He stepped forward, his targets arm in his hand, he gripped it tightly, frowning at the other men nearby. "This is mine now, leave."
The captive said something he didn't catch and struggled futilely, attempting to pull away, it was all very cute.
The other pests looked at each other and back to him in something that should have resembled anger but looked more like constipation. "You are not taking her anywhere." One said, blue eyes flashing. "Especially not while we're around."
"Nickey he's got a staff!" his captive said, struggling all the more.
"So he's a possessive mental case, where's mall security?"
"Coming this way, Liz, we'll get him off you."
"I am Saruman the White, there is nothing you pathetic creatures can do, she's coming with me."
There was a moment of shocked silence. He charged his spell just as an elbow met his ribcage painfully. An arm found it's way to his jugular as he toppled backwards, his hand still clutching his target and his staff still glowing brightly. A burning pain ripped up his crotch as he felt the heel of a foot connect there even as he sent out his staff with a swing. He felt blood from his fingernails ripping into his captives arm even as she with the help of her friend tried to pull from his grip. The last of the three was dodging his staff as it swung left right and center out to hit everything it could.
The spell was charged.
His staff made contact with the side of one mans face even as she grabbed it and twisted it from his grip, there was a flash of light, a sick crunch of bones grinding and the hard contact of unforgiving marble floor meeting flesh. His mind was hazy, he was back beside his Palentir, staff-less, captive-less and sporting a broken wrist.
His Lord would not be pleased.