Author notes: Okay, I came up with this the morning after I went to the movie for the second time. I have read the trilogy, though I feel I should reread it. Too bad my sister's friend has it. *sighs* Oh well...continuing on...
Oh, and this story takes place during our time. 2001 and not 2002. ^.~
Disclaimer: Er...I'm not even sure I own any of these characters. Because, well, you'll find out. The only person I own is Uncle Eric at this time. ^.~
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Chapter One: Voices
"I'll see you later, man!" a dark-haired, bright blue-eyed boy, who was in his mid-teens, called to his friend as he walked into a small white trailor.
"Frank? That you?" an older male's voice called and the blue-eyed teenager chuckled slightly.
"Nope. Just the IRS wanting to make your life miserable," he called out, walking into the small kitchen, where an older man, a man possibly in his mid-thirties, who was rustling about.
"Oh, good! Now the IRS can do the dishes instead of my nephew, who loaths that job," he replied, while Frank laughed.
Frank Johnson was an average teenager, that lived an average life with his below average uncle. Frank was a small boy compared to other people at his school. He always seemed to be slightly shorter than an average heighth person. Not that it bothered him.
He loved his life.
Although he had been orphaned at a young age and he had never known his parents, he lived with his father's brother, Eric Johnson. Frank's Uncle Eric was about the exact opposite of Frank, however.
Uncle Eric was extremely tall and had light hair with piercing brown eyes, and he was even more athletic than his nephew would ever be. But the two lived almost fifteen happy years with one another and, Frank believed, that made up for the parents he had never really had.
"Get a wife and I won't have to do them. It can't be that hard to find someone." Frank replied as he looked in the ice box for a snack. Uncle Eric just shook his head.
"Harder than you think," He paused as he watched his brother's son pull out a lot of food. "Didn't you already eat?"
"Yeah," Frank answered, lying everything on the counter. "But I'm still hungry."
"I thought Peter's mother's cooking would fill that pit you call a stomach," Uncle Eric said, shaking his head.
"I went to Sean's house," Frank corrected with a grin as he set to work on making his snack. His uncle shook his head in disbelief once again.
"How I get enough money to get enough food for you, I'll never understand," he said with a chuckle and headed for the trailor's door as he heard five loud knocks. Right when he opened it and saw the two grinning boys behind it, however, he slammed the door shut. Frank looked up, hearing the slam.
"Who was it?" he asked as his uncle grumbled something for a moment.
"Mark and Peter," he eventually answered, while Frank left the kitchen with a plate full of chips, pretzels, leftover pizza, and two sandwhiches. "You go outside with them. They'll eat us out of trailor and trash if we let them in."
Frank smirked and walked out of the trailor, his plate on his hand and his coke under his arm. "Mark! Peter! What, you thought Uncle Eric needed someone else to eat all the food?"
Peter, the youngest of the three (only fourteen, while Mark was just-turned-fifteen and Frank was almost-sixteen), gave Frank a mischievious grin. His light brown hair, which was fairly longer than the other two boy's, hung in his eyes, which were a odd shade of bright green, giving him the look that he was ready to get himself in trouble again.
"Nah, just thought you would have your schedule--"
"You do, don't you?" Mark interrupted, getting a frown from Peter.
Mark and Peter were both slightly taller than Frank, but that really didn't bother him much. What did bother him was Mark's suspicious emerald eyes, that always seemed to be asking if Frank had did something wrong without him.
"Of course I do! But you're both a year below me," Frank answered, sitting on the trailor's steps and wondering if the two were up to something again. Mark scanned over his friend while he ate, his unnerving stare giving Frank a shudder, and brushed a hand over his light, lighter than Peter's, hair.
Before Mark said anything though, Peter shrugged and said, "We could have lunch together. Maybe even P.E."
"You have first shift, right?" Mark asked Peter, who nodded, and the two went into a quick discussion in hushed voices. The two usually did this often and it was hard to imagine that the two of them weren't even related.
Frank watched them, amused, as he bit into his second sandwhich. He had come to learn that when the two of them talked with each other in hushed voices, they were planning something involving him. Looking around for a moment, waiting for the two to begin talking to him again, Frank wondered if Sean was going to stop by, though he had just been over to his house.
"So," Mark began, breaking Frank's thoughts. "What shift have you got?"
Frank shrugged and bit into a chip. "First."
Peter and Mark exchanged galnces and grinned at each other, Peter more so than Mark. Frank watched them curiously, trying to guess what the two had planned.
"You two aren't going to do anything to me on my birthday, are you?" he asked and Peter frowned, while Mark sighed.
"How do you always guess what we're planning?" Peter asked, while Frank laughed at his friend's expressions.
"You two are too obvious. Plus, you always do something to me on my brithday," he answered putting his now empty plate down on the ground. Peter grinned at that, remembering all of the things they had done to Frank on his birthday.
"Well, this time it was going to be something you would like. At least, Sean and I thought you would like it. Peter here suggested we do the same thing to you as always. But this is your sixteenth birthday!" Mark said, giving Peter a disapproving look.
"Oh, really? You aren't going to do anything illegal, are you?" Frank asked with a grin. School was supposed to begin the day after tomorrow and then a few weeks later, on September 22nd, it would be Frank's birthday. And to get suspended in the first few weeks of school...
"Oh, you know us. We just love surprises!" Peter answered with the grin on his face growing wider. Mark, however, looked over to Peter and hit him in the back of the head.
"We're supposed to act like we don't know anything! Have you learned nothing I have taught you..." Mark began as the two went into a quick disagreement, but Frank didn't hear the rest as he suddenly got a headache.
He rubbed his forehead trying to rid of the pain and he closed his eyes, thinking that maybe the sun was making it worse. But the moment he closed them, his head exploded with more pain and he snapped his eyes open, seeing Mark and Peter looking at him concerned.
"Are you all right?" Mark asked, but it seemed distant. Frank nodded his head, which made the ground spin under him and he leaned his head back against the door, his throat going dry.
"That doesn't look all right," he distantly heard Peter--no, not Peter--say. "Fra--do?"
Confused at why Peter--or was it someone else?--called him Frado, Frank shook his head a bit and the dizziness seemed to clear and it was Peter and Mark who were watching him, worriedly.
Sitting up away from the door, Frank held his head with one hand and held up the other. "I'm all right. I'm all right," he assured them.
Mark and Peter blew sighs of relief. "You had us scared. You just started sweating and clutching your head...you're sure you're all right?" Mark said, concerned.
Frank nodded and with help from Peter, stood up. "Yeah, I'm fine now. Only...why'd you call me Frado, Peter?" he asked.
Mark and Peter exchanged glances. "He didn't call you Frado...he called you Frank. You know, your name?" Mark answered, now more worried about his friend's condition.
"You're sure you're all right?" Peter asked and Frank jerked his arm free from Peter, getting annoyed that they didn't believe him.
"I'm fine. Just fine. I gotta go in though," he told them, bending over to pick up his plate and coke can. When he had the plate in his hand, though, he remembered how Peter's voice hadn't sounded the same.
"It is getting kind of late," Mark said, looking worriedly at Frank, but, at the same time, gave him a look that told him he disapproved of his anger towards their concern. "Come on, Peter."
And with that, the two almost brothers left and Frank went into his trailor, leaning against the door when he had closed it, wondering what had happened. He didn't have much time to think, though, as his uncle came in and gave him a concerned look.
"Are you okay? You look a bit pale," he said, taking noticed to his nephew's damp hair. Frank, getting slightly annoyed with everyone asking if he was all right, nodded and walked into the kitchen.
He was fine. Just fine. He just got dizzy, was all. Nothing out of the ordinary there.
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My first LOTR fic. Hoped you liked it. Believe me, it gets better. ^.~
Oh, and this story takes place during our time. 2001 and not 2002. ^.~
Disclaimer: Er...I'm not even sure I own any of these characters. Because, well, you'll find out. The only person I own is Uncle Eric at this time. ^.~
--------------
Chapter One: Voices
"I'll see you later, man!" a dark-haired, bright blue-eyed boy, who was in his mid-teens, called to his friend as he walked into a small white trailor.
"Frank? That you?" an older male's voice called and the blue-eyed teenager chuckled slightly.
"Nope. Just the IRS wanting to make your life miserable," he called out, walking into the small kitchen, where an older man, a man possibly in his mid-thirties, who was rustling about.
"Oh, good! Now the IRS can do the dishes instead of my nephew, who loaths that job," he replied, while Frank laughed.
Frank Johnson was an average teenager, that lived an average life with his below average uncle. Frank was a small boy compared to other people at his school. He always seemed to be slightly shorter than an average heighth person. Not that it bothered him.
He loved his life.
Although he had been orphaned at a young age and he had never known his parents, he lived with his father's brother, Eric Johnson. Frank's Uncle Eric was about the exact opposite of Frank, however.
Uncle Eric was extremely tall and had light hair with piercing brown eyes, and he was even more athletic than his nephew would ever be. But the two lived almost fifteen happy years with one another and, Frank believed, that made up for the parents he had never really had.
"Get a wife and I won't have to do them. It can't be that hard to find someone." Frank replied as he looked in the ice box for a snack. Uncle Eric just shook his head.
"Harder than you think," He paused as he watched his brother's son pull out a lot of food. "Didn't you already eat?"
"Yeah," Frank answered, lying everything on the counter. "But I'm still hungry."
"I thought Peter's mother's cooking would fill that pit you call a stomach," Uncle Eric said, shaking his head.
"I went to Sean's house," Frank corrected with a grin as he set to work on making his snack. His uncle shook his head in disbelief once again.
"How I get enough money to get enough food for you, I'll never understand," he said with a chuckle and headed for the trailor's door as he heard five loud knocks. Right when he opened it and saw the two grinning boys behind it, however, he slammed the door shut. Frank looked up, hearing the slam.
"Who was it?" he asked as his uncle grumbled something for a moment.
"Mark and Peter," he eventually answered, while Frank left the kitchen with a plate full of chips, pretzels, leftover pizza, and two sandwhiches. "You go outside with them. They'll eat us out of trailor and trash if we let them in."
Frank smirked and walked out of the trailor, his plate on his hand and his coke under his arm. "Mark! Peter! What, you thought Uncle Eric needed someone else to eat all the food?"
Peter, the youngest of the three (only fourteen, while Mark was just-turned-fifteen and Frank was almost-sixteen), gave Frank a mischievious grin. His light brown hair, which was fairly longer than the other two boy's, hung in his eyes, which were a odd shade of bright green, giving him the look that he was ready to get himself in trouble again.
"Nah, just thought you would have your schedule--"
"You do, don't you?" Mark interrupted, getting a frown from Peter.
Mark and Peter were both slightly taller than Frank, but that really didn't bother him much. What did bother him was Mark's suspicious emerald eyes, that always seemed to be asking if Frank had did something wrong without him.
"Of course I do! But you're both a year below me," Frank answered, sitting on the trailor's steps and wondering if the two were up to something again. Mark scanned over his friend while he ate, his unnerving stare giving Frank a shudder, and brushed a hand over his light, lighter than Peter's, hair.
Before Mark said anything though, Peter shrugged and said, "We could have lunch together. Maybe even P.E."
"You have first shift, right?" Mark asked Peter, who nodded, and the two went into a quick discussion in hushed voices. The two usually did this often and it was hard to imagine that the two of them weren't even related.
Frank watched them, amused, as he bit into his second sandwhich. He had come to learn that when the two of them talked with each other in hushed voices, they were planning something involving him. Looking around for a moment, waiting for the two to begin talking to him again, Frank wondered if Sean was going to stop by, though he had just been over to his house.
"So," Mark began, breaking Frank's thoughts. "What shift have you got?"
Frank shrugged and bit into a chip. "First."
Peter and Mark exchanged galnces and grinned at each other, Peter more so than Mark. Frank watched them curiously, trying to guess what the two had planned.
"You two aren't going to do anything to me on my birthday, are you?" he asked and Peter frowned, while Mark sighed.
"How do you always guess what we're planning?" Peter asked, while Frank laughed at his friend's expressions.
"You two are too obvious. Plus, you always do something to me on my brithday," he answered putting his now empty plate down on the ground. Peter grinned at that, remembering all of the things they had done to Frank on his birthday.
"Well, this time it was going to be something you would like. At least, Sean and I thought you would like it. Peter here suggested we do the same thing to you as always. But this is your sixteenth birthday!" Mark said, giving Peter a disapproving look.
"Oh, really? You aren't going to do anything illegal, are you?" Frank asked with a grin. School was supposed to begin the day after tomorrow and then a few weeks later, on September 22nd, it would be Frank's birthday. And to get suspended in the first few weeks of school...
"Oh, you know us. We just love surprises!" Peter answered with the grin on his face growing wider. Mark, however, looked over to Peter and hit him in the back of the head.
"We're supposed to act like we don't know anything! Have you learned nothing I have taught you..." Mark began as the two went into a quick disagreement, but Frank didn't hear the rest as he suddenly got a headache.
He rubbed his forehead trying to rid of the pain and he closed his eyes, thinking that maybe the sun was making it worse. But the moment he closed them, his head exploded with more pain and he snapped his eyes open, seeing Mark and Peter looking at him concerned.
"Are you all right?" Mark asked, but it seemed distant. Frank nodded his head, which made the ground spin under him and he leaned his head back against the door, his throat going dry.
"That doesn't look all right," he distantly heard Peter--no, not Peter--say. "Fra--do?"
Confused at why Peter--or was it someone else?--called him Frado, Frank shook his head a bit and the dizziness seemed to clear and it was Peter and Mark who were watching him, worriedly.
Sitting up away from the door, Frank held his head with one hand and held up the other. "I'm all right. I'm all right," he assured them.
Mark and Peter blew sighs of relief. "You had us scared. You just started sweating and clutching your head...you're sure you're all right?" Mark said, concerned.
Frank nodded and with help from Peter, stood up. "Yeah, I'm fine now. Only...why'd you call me Frado, Peter?" he asked.
Mark and Peter exchanged glances. "He didn't call you Frado...he called you Frank. You know, your name?" Mark answered, now more worried about his friend's condition.
"You're sure you're all right?" Peter asked and Frank jerked his arm free from Peter, getting annoyed that they didn't believe him.
"I'm fine. Just fine. I gotta go in though," he told them, bending over to pick up his plate and coke can. When he had the plate in his hand, though, he remembered how Peter's voice hadn't sounded the same.
"It is getting kind of late," Mark said, looking worriedly at Frank, but, at the same time, gave him a look that told him he disapproved of his anger towards their concern. "Come on, Peter."
And with that, the two almost brothers left and Frank went into his trailor, leaning against the door when he had closed it, wondering what had happened. He didn't have much time to think, though, as his uncle came in and gave him a concerned look.
"Are you okay? You look a bit pale," he said, taking noticed to his nephew's damp hair. Frank, getting slightly annoyed with everyone asking if he was all right, nodded and walked into the kitchen.
He was fine. Just fine. He just got dizzy, was all. Nothing out of the ordinary there.
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My first LOTR fic. Hoped you liked it. Believe me, it gets better. ^.~
