Thank you, my darlings! Your comments (and threats) give me the strength I need to continue... here's the next chapter! (*phew*... I've avoided the dreaded tickle!)
Ice White Lady, Silver-Kalan, WaterShadow, and Ezellohar Peridan etc etc (sorry hon, your name's too much of a challenge to write first thing on a Tuesday morning...)
- Fop.
***
"Martyn! Get out of the way!" ordered Legolas, as he ran around the boy to dispatch the orc that were surrounding them.
"I'm trying, but every time I run away I get surrounded by these horrible things!" wailed Martyn, ducking under a vicious attack and surviving by sheer luck when he tripped the orc up. "What do I do, what do I do?"
"You could try fighting!" yelled Gimli.
"I can't fight, I can't even punch someone!"
"You're a writer, aren't you? You could write yourself some skills," pointed out Aragorn.
"Oh, yeah." Martyn sat down and took out his diary, ignoring the others who had to keep jumping over him to attack and retreat, getting on with the real fighting.
Suddenly there was a yelling from behind them, and Martyn burst through, wielding a huge sword and yelling at the top of his lungs, charging towards the orc.
It would have been quite impressive, if he hadn't tripped over a tree root, fallen over, dropped his sword and rolled down the hill screaming. The Fellowship and the orc shrugged and got on with trying to kill each other.
Martyn came back up the hill, gasping for breath and clutching a stitch in his side. He retrieved his fallen sword and, when he'd got his breath back, joined the battle, which was a bit of a waste really as there were only a handful of orc left.
"Look out, Martyn!" yelled Legolas, pushing the boy to the ground. He jerked and clutched at the arrow shaft sticking out of his chest. Aragorn and Boromir killed the remaining orc and hurried to the fallen elf.
"Oh my God, are you okay?" asked Martyn.
"I'll be fine. Leave me."
"You stupid elf. What did you do that for?" demanded Boromir.
"I couldn't let the boy die, he's far too beautiful," gasped Legolas.
"Will you be all right?" asked Martyn, kneeling down beside the elf and brushing his hair out of his eyes.
"He'll be fine. Elves have some healing powers," said Boromir. He was grinning.
"I'll be fine in about an hour. Leave me, friends."
"Okay. Boromir, you were bloody marvellous, mate!" Martyn scrambled up and threw his arm around Boromir, who was laughing. The rest of the Fellowship followed apart from Aragorn, who remained with Legolas.
"Well, that didn't quite go as planned, did it?" he laughed. "They're gone, you can get up now." The elf sat up, struggling to remove the broken arrow from his tunic.
"How did you know," grumbled the elf.
"You're the worst actor I've ever seen." Legolas finally managed to remove the arrow and sat on the ground, arms folded, sulking.
"What can I do, Aragorn? I've been nice to him, I've looked after him, I saved his life I don't know how many times out there today, and I've tried faking my own near-death in the process of, and he still won't fall for me! What can I do?"
"You could try giving up. Face it, the boy is not attracted to you."
"Never! He will be mine!"
*
Boromir and Martyn were sat huddled together by the fire, laughing at the elf's antics.
"What is he like?" chuckled Martyn. "He totally hammed that up, it was like watching an episode of Eastenders!"
"What's Eastenders?" asked Boromir.
"It's this thing we have in the 21st century. It's like a play, about some people who live in the East End of London, which is the capital city of my country. And the acting is almost as bad as Legolas back there."
"Pretty awful, then."
"Yes, but strangely addictive."
"He won't stop until he has you under his spell, you know."
"I know, but it won't work. I just don't find him attractive. I like the more rugged, handsome type, pretty-boys aren't my thing. There's someone else at this camp who I find infinitely more attractive."
"Who's that? Aragorn?"
"For someone so adept at spotting who's after who, you're pretty dumb when it comes to realising you're the one that's being chased."
"Oh. Oh..." Boromir blushed as Martyn stared at him, smiling, and running his finger along his chin.
"I love the way the firelight bounces off your eyes," whispered Martyn, moving closer.
"Martyn, I don't..." Boromir began, but his breath caught in his throat when Martyn ran his fingers down his chest, and lower. "Like..." Boromir gave up and pulled Martyn into a ferocious, hungry kiss.
Just as Aragorn and Legolas arrived back at the camp.
"I don't believe it!" screamed Legolas. "How could he prefer that over me?"
"It looks like your quest is hopeless," laughed Aragorn.
"It is not! This is just a temporary setback. He will be mine, and I know just how to get him. And you're going to help me."
Ice White Lady, Silver-Kalan, WaterShadow, and Ezellohar Peridan etc etc (sorry hon, your name's too much of a challenge to write first thing on a Tuesday morning...)
- Fop.
***
"Martyn! Get out of the way!" ordered Legolas, as he ran around the boy to dispatch the orc that were surrounding them.
"I'm trying, but every time I run away I get surrounded by these horrible things!" wailed Martyn, ducking under a vicious attack and surviving by sheer luck when he tripped the orc up. "What do I do, what do I do?"
"You could try fighting!" yelled Gimli.
"I can't fight, I can't even punch someone!"
"You're a writer, aren't you? You could write yourself some skills," pointed out Aragorn.
"Oh, yeah." Martyn sat down and took out his diary, ignoring the others who had to keep jumping over him to attack and retreat, getting on with the real fighting.
Suddenly there was a yelling from behind them, and Martyn burst through, wielding a huge sword and yelling at the top of his lungs, charging towards the orc.
It would have been quite impressive, if he hadn't tripped over a tree root, fallen over, dropped his sword and rolled down the hill screaming. The Fellowship and the orc shrugged and got on with trying to kill each other.
Martyn came back up the hill, gasping for breath and clutching a stitch in his side. He retrieved his fallen sword and, when he'd got his breath back, joined the battle, which was a bit of a waste really as there were only a handful of orc left.
"Look out, Martyn!" yelled Legolas, pushing the boy to the ground. He jerked and clutched at the arrow shaft sticking out of his chest. Aragorn and Boromir killed the remaining orc and hurried to the fallen elf.
"Oh my God, are you okay?" asked Martyn.
"I'll be fine. Leave me."
"You stupid elf. What did you do that for?" demanded Boromir.
"I couldn't let the boy die, he's far too beautiful," gasped Legolas.
"Will you be all right?" asked Martyn, kneeling down beside the elf and brushing his hair out of his eyes.
"He'll be fine. Elves have some healing powers," said Boromir. He was grinning.
"I'll be fine in about an hour. Leave me, friends."
"Okay. Boromir, you were bloody marvellous, mate!" Martyn scrambled up and threw his arm around Boromir, who was laughing. The rest of the Fellowship followed apart from Aragorn, who remained with Legolas.
"Well, that didn't quite go as planned, did it?" he laughed. "They're gone, you can get up now." The elf sat up, struggling to remove the broken arrow from his tunic.
"How did you know," grumbled the elf.
"You're the worst actor I've ever seen." Legolas finally managed to remove the arrow and sat on the ground, arms folded, sulking.
"What can I do, Aragorn? I've been nice to him, I've looked after him, I saved his life I don't know how many times out there today, and I've tried faking my own near-death in the process of, and he still won't fall for me! What can I do?"
"You could try giving up. Face it, the boy is not attracted to you."
"Never! He will be mine!"
*
Boromir and Martyn were sat huddled together by the fire, laughing at the elf's antics.
"What is he like?" chuckled Martyn. "He totally hammed that up, it was like watching an episode of Eastenders!"
"What's Eastenders?" asked Boromir.
"It's this thing we have in the 21st century. It's like a play, about some people who live in the East End of London, which is the capital city of my country. And the acting is almost as bad as Legolas back there."
"Pretty awful, then."
"Yes, but strangely addictive."
"He won't stop until he has you under his spell, you know."
"I know, but it won't work. I just don't find him attractive. I like the more rugged, handsome type, pretty-boys aren't my thing. There's someone else at this camp who I find infinitely more attractive."
"Who's that? Aragorn?"
"For someone so adept at spotting who's after who, you're pretty dumb when it comes to realising you're the one that's being chased."
"Oh. Oh..." Boromir blushed as Martyn stared at him, smiling, and running his finger along his chin.
"I love the way the firelight bounces off your eyes," whispered Martyn, moving closer.
"Martyn, I don't..." Boromir began, but his breath caught in his throat when Martyn ran his fingers down his chest, and lower. "Like..." Boromir gave up and pulled Martyn into a ferocious, hungry kiss.
Just as Aragorn and Legolas arrived back at the camp.
"I don't believe it!" screamed Legolas. "How could he prefer that over me?"
"It looks like your quest is hopeless," laughed Aragorn.
"It is not! This is just a temporary setback. He will be mine, and I know just how to get him. And you're going to help me."