Thank you to my sole reviewer, WaterShadow. Glad you like it, here's more
for you, hon!
***
The Fellowship had pushed on throughout the day, determined to reach the edge of the forest by nightfall. Martyn was at the front with Gandalf, telling him about life in the 21st century. Legolas was following them a little way behind, glaring at the interloper, still smarting from the leather comment, and half-hoping that they'd be attacked so that a stray arrow could accidentally-on-purpose hit Martyn in the leg, or, preferably, the groin. Fortunately for Martyn, their passage through the forest was only interrupted by a deer, which quickly became dinner.
They made camp that night on the edge of the forest. As they sat around the campfire munching the rest of the meat, Martyn tried to entertain them with stories from the 21st century. He soon gave up, as the others kept asking him to explain such concepts as 'television', 'office' and the like, every few seconds.
He took out a small pad of paper and a pen and began to write. The Fellowship regarded the largely inoffensive items as one would regard a loaded cannon pointing in one's direction with the fuse nearly burnt down.
"What are you doing?" squeaked Merry.
"Writing my diary. Don't worry, it won't hurt you. 'Dear Diary, am thoroughly pissed off, trapped in Middle Earth, don't know how to get back, I've missed Eastenders and am rapidly running out of cigarettes. Missed dinner with my blind date, he's probably gonna kill me if I ever get back,' he mumbled as he wrote.
"You like men?" asked Boromir, trying to divert everyone's attention away from the simple, harmful act of writing.
"Yeah." Instinctively, everyone turned to look at Legolas, who glared at them. "Don't worry, elf boy, you're safe from me. I don't like men with their heads rammed up their arses, it makes conversation difficult." The hobbits giggled. Gandalf suppressed a smile. The elf opened his mouth to reply, decided it would be more dignified to remain aloof, and sat down on the opposite side of the fire, talking in loud voices with Gimli. Martyn started talking in loud voices with Boromir and Aragorn. They began a bitching match across the fire, which went on for about thirty minutes. Finally Aragorn could take it no longer.
"They hate each other, don't they?" he shouted to Boromir, so that everyone could hear him over the other two's shouting. "We all know what that leads to, don't we?"
"Yes, they'll be joined at the lips before long."
"What, him?" yelled Martyn and Legolas. They stared at each other in disgust.
"That's sick!"
"I would rather die."
"How could you even think that?"
"I just wanted you to shut up." Martyn and Legolas obliged, and glared at each other.
The blissful silence lasted approximately two minutes.
"Actually, I could do with a shag," said Martyn.
"Don't look at me," said Legolas.
"No, hon, I do actually have taste, you know." Another bitching war started. Aragorn sighed and put his head in his hands.
"So," said Boromir, when they'd both paused to take a breath. "Which one of us would you rather be intimate with, Martyn?"
"Hm. Tough one." Martyn surveyed the group. "Frodo has extremely gorgeous eyes, and Aragorn has such a sexy voice. But I think it would have to be you."
"Why me?"
"You're just so damn sexy!" Legolas got up and walked off. Boromir chuckled.
"You were supposed to say 'Legolas' and fall drooling at his feet, and be completely heartbroken when he rejects you. Honestly, all this fan girl adoration has gone to his head. He'll be trying to make you fall in love with him now." Martyn laughed and stretched out by the fire.
"It'll never happen."
*
Martyn woke up in the middle of the night. He shivered. The fire had gone out. He scrabbled around for twigs and got the fire lit again. A twig snapped behind him and he nearly swallowed his tongue. He got up, his heart pounding, ready to scream, run, panic or all three, but it was only Legolas, who had been keeping watch.
"Nothing so far, it's been a quiet night," said the elf, squatting down next to Martyn.
"Blimey, a civil conversation," muttered Martyn.
"We've had absolutely nothing for six days," continued Legolas, pretending he hadn't heard the boy. "It's making me nervous."
"An absence of things trying to kill you is a good thing, surely? It might mean they've given up." Legolas shook his head.
"Or they could be going to get reinforcements and making allies with other people who want to kill us."
"I'll stick to my version, it's more comforting." The elf shrugged.
They sat in silence for a bit, then Legolas extended his hand.
"I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier. It was arrogant of me."
"Yeah, it was." Martyn grinned and shook the hand.
"Do you mind taking over the watch? I could do with some sleep."
"What am I watching for?"
"Well, it would be sensible to look for creatures carrying sharp pointy objects that they want to stick in us."
"And if I see them?"
"Run. But wake us up first."
***
The Fellowship had pushed on throughout the day, determined to reach the edge of the forest by nightfall. Martyn was at the front with Gandalf, telling him about life in the 21st century. Legolas was following them a little way behind, glaring at the interloper, still smarting from the leather comment, and half-hoping that they'd be attacked so that a stray arrow could accidentally-on-purpose hit Martyn in the leg, or, preferably, the groin. Fortunately for Martyn, their passage through the forest was only interrupted by a deer, which quickly became dinner.
They made camp that night on the edge of the forest. As they sat around the campfire munching the rest of the meat, Martyn tried to entertain them with stories from the 21st century. He soon gave up, as the others kept asking him to explain such concepts as 'television', 'office' and the like, every few seconds.
He took out a small pad of paper and a pen and began to write. The Fellowship regarded the largely inoffensive items as one would regard a loaded cannon pointing in one's direction with the fuse nearly burnt down.
"What are you doing?" squeaked Merry.
"Writing my diary. Don't worry, it won't hurt you. 'Dear Diary, am thoroughly pissed off, trapped in Middle Earth, don't know how to get back, I've missed Eastenders and am rapidly running out of cigarettes. Missed dinner with my blind date, he's probably gonna kill me if I ever get back,' he mumbled as he wrote.
"You like men?" asked Boromir, trying to divert everyone's attention away from the simple, harmful act of writing.
"Yeah." Instinctively, everyone turned to look at Legolas, who glared at them. "Don't worry, elf boy, you're safe from me. I don't like men with their heads rammed up their arses, it makes conversation difficult." The hobbits giggled. Gandalf suppressed a smile. The elf opened his mouth to reply, decided it would be more dignified to remain aloof, and sat down on the opposite side of the fire, talking in loud voices with Gimli. Martyn started talking in loud voices with Boromir and Aragorn. They began a bitching match across the fire, which went on for about thirty minutes. Finally Aragorn could take it no longer.
"They hate each other, don't they?" he shouted to Boromir, so that everyone could hear him over the other two's shouting. "We all know what that leads to, don't we?"
"Yes, they'll be joined at the lips before long."
"What, him?" yelled Martyn and Legolas. They stared at each other in disgust.
"That's sick!"
"I would rather die."
"How could you even think that?"
"I just wanted you to shut up." Martyn and Legolas obliged, and glared at each other.
The blissful silence lasted approximately two minutes.
"Actually, I could do with a shag," said Martyn.
"Don't look at me," said Legolas.
"No, hon, I do actually have taste, you know." Another bitching war started. Aragorn sighed and put his head in his hands.
"So," said Boromir, when they'd both paused to take a breath. "Which one of us would you rather be intimate with, Martyn?"
"Hm. Tough one." Martyn surveyed the group. "Frodo has extremely gorgeous eyes, and Aragorn has such a sexy voice. But I think it would have to be you."
"Why me?"
"You're just so damn sexy!" Legolas got up and walked off. Boromir chuckled.
"You were supposed to say 'Legolas' and fall drooling at his feet, and be completely heartbroken when he rejects you. Honestly, all this fan girl adoration has gone to his head. He'll be trying to make you fall in love with him now." Martyn laughed and stretched out by the fire.
"It'll never happen."
*
Martyn woke up in the middle of the night. He shivered. The fire had gone out. He scrabbled around for twigs and got the fire lit again. A twig snapped behind him and he nearly swallowed his tongue. He got up, his heart pounding, ready to scream, run, panic or all three, but it was only Legolas, who had been keeping watch.
"Nothing so far, it's been a quiet night," said the elf, squatting down next to Martyn.
"Blimey, a civil conversation," muttered Martyn.
"We've had absolutely nothing for six days," continued Legolas, pretending he hadn't heard the boy. "It's making me nervous."
"An absence of things trying to kill you is a good thing, surely? It might mean they've given up." Legolas shook his head.
"Or they could be going to get reinforcements and making allies with other people who want to kill us."
"I'll stick to my version, it's more comforting." The elf shrugged.
They sat in silence for a bit, then Legolas extended his hand.
"I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier. It was arrogant of me."
"Yeah, it was." Martyn grinned and shook the hand.
"Do you mind taking over the watch? I could do with some sleep."
"What am I watching for?"
"Well, it would be sensible to look for creatures carrying sharp pointy objects that they want to stick in us."
"And if I see them?"
"Run. But wake us up first."