INT. TITANIC. DECK – NIGHT

A lone figure sprawls out across a bench, looking up at the stars. He might be trying to look soulful, but he is actually just lazy. He is Jack Dawson, a pretty boy with striking highlights that probably wouldn't have come into existence until the 1970's at least. He seems unconcerned by this, however. Right now, he is trying to muster up enough energy to go save the freaky lady that is threatening to jump off the front of the ship.

Jack: Okay. Walk up to the lady, make witty banter, charm her into staying put. Right this is easy.

Some time later…

Jack: Any time now.

Even more time passes…

Jack: Come on legs, work!

Awhile more…

Rose: Are you going to save me or not, asshole?

He blinks. Such language is certainly not becoming of a painfully upper-class lady in this day and age. He wonders briefly if he has just stepped into a strange alternative universe. He obviously can't hear the typing going on directly above his head; otherwise he might have given it more attention.

Finally, he gets up and wanders over aimlessly. Rose De-oh-I-can-never-remember-her-name is hanging perilously over the front of the boat. He stifles a yawn.

Jack: Um, you probably shouldn't do that.

Rose: Oh my life is so horrible! How cursed I am, with my lovely dresses and all my many Monet paintings. Not to mention this bloody big engagement ring. Sometimes I think my fiancée is just compensating for something.

Beat. Jack blinks.

Jack: Riiiight! {woodenly} Don't jump. I jumped once, I was cold. If you jump you will be cold too.

Rose: My saviour! You have convinced me that life is worth living after all! How can I ever repay you?

Jack: [humming under his breath] The best things in life are free, but you can give them to the birds and bees, I want your money…. [looks up to see her staring at him, bemused] Um, I mean… I desire nothing else than for you to climb back over to this side of the boat.

Rose: It shall be done, mon chere.

Jack: Uh…Spanish, right?

Rose: No, French! You've never been to Paris?

Jack: Oh, the place with the prostitutes? Yeah, sure… Met this guy there called Christian. Man, was that guy obsessed with the Moulin Rouge. We had some good times, though…

The typing screeches to a halt as the writer desperately tries to stop another fandom from entering the fray. Finally, with all thoughts of Ewan singing 'Your Song' pushed to the back of her mind, she carries on…

Rose: Will you help me over, my darling?

Jack: Whatever.

Jack helps Rose over rather clumsily. Rose falls over on Jack…

Rose: Oops. How clumsy of me.

Jack: Not a problem. Can you get up now, though?

Rose: This silly dress, all these petticoats. Seem to be getting in the way.

Jack: [panicking] Of what?!

Rose: There's no need to act fey, my love. We were meant to be together. We can be like Anthony and Cleopatra, Romeo and Juliet… Britney and Justin…

Jack: Who?

Rose: Actually, scrap the last one. Would never have worked out anyway.

Suddenly, a lone dark figure approaches them at this most inconvenient time.

Rose: Oh no, it must be my fiancée, Cal. Why, he would kill any man who he thought was threatening his bride to be…

Actually, it is not Cal. It is not anyone remotely resembling Cal…

Boromir: Oh, most sorry. Do carry on.

Jack: That's your fiancée?

Rose: [disgusted] No! Oh, where the hell is he? This was his cue…

Boromir: Please carry on…

Rose: [wailing] I want out of my engagement! Where is he?

Boromir: [desperately] I'll pay you.

Jack: Well this is just getting ridiculous.

He stands up with unceremonious force, leaving Rose glaring up at him from the floor.

Rose: How dare you?! I'm rich! I'm beautiful…

Boromir: [to Jack, a little too eager] I'm Boromir.

Jack: Um, hi.

Boromir shakes his hand vigorously. Jack begins to suspect something is a little off here.

Jack: Um, have you met my secret lover, Rose?

He pulls her up and puts his arm round her shoulder, grinning widely.

Jack: [through gritted teeth] Rose, say hello to the nice savage man.

Rose: [seductively] Hello, Boromir. My my, that's a big horn you have there.

Boromir: You want to stroke it?

Rose: Not on our first date, you bad boy!

Suddenly, the ships horn goes off. Boromir looks down at his horn, puzzled.

Boromir: Can it be? Two horns of Gondor?

Like a moth to a flame, the other eight in the fellowship come running out of nowhere, weapons at the ready. Okay, so not entirely like a moth…

Jack and Rose: Aggggggghhhh!!!

Aragorn: Boromir, are you in mortal danger?

Boromir: No.

Aragorn: Did you sit on one of the Hobbits?

Boromir: [looking at the bemused Hobbits] No…

Aragorn: Then why did you blow the horn?

Boromir: I did not! I sense devilry…

Legolas: [snorting] Well there's a surprise.

Rose: [eyes shining with lust] Boromir, won't you introduce me to your friend…

Boromir: Him? That's Legolas. I feel I should warn you though; if you try anything with him, Aragorn will kick your ass.

He points at Aragorn, who is staring at Rose with barely disguised contempt. She takes a step back.

Rose: Uh… nice sword…

Boromir: And that's despite the fact that Legolas could probably kick all of our asses in approximately five seconds, without even breaking into a sweat.

Legolas is not listening, however. Neither is Jack. Both have suddenly noticed that their reigning role of prettiest boy in their own particular fandom is under serious threat.

Legolas: Nice hair. How long did that take you to do?

Jack: Three hours… And you?

Legolas: [sighing with relief] Four and a half.

Jack: [fuming] What about your clothes? How long did it take you to accessorise?

Legolas: Six hours.

Jack: Ha! Seven!

Legolas: [breaking into a sweat] Well… How many beings have declared their love for you?

Jack: Forty-one.

He looks imploringly at Rose.

Rose: I love you, Jack.

Jack: Make that forty-two. [smug] And you?

Legolas: Thirty-nine women…. [long beat. Jack is savouring his victory] And sixty-two men.

Gandalf: Oh, Legolas, I never told thee how much I love you.

Legolas: Sorry, make that sixty-three. And that's not even including the Orcs. [Jack is speechless] Sorry, 'friend', I guess you're just not pretty enough.

Jack: [screaming] Let me at him!

He lunges himself at Legolas, who pulls out his bow and arrow quicker than you can say 'cat fight'. Jack stops as the tip touches his head.

Legolas: You were saying?

Jack: [nervous, bordering on the psychotic, laughter] Um… nothing. Nothing at all. Rose, I think it was time we started going, yes?

Rose: [still eyeing Aragorn warily] Excellent idea, sweetheart.

They back away slowly. Then, they break into an ungainly sprint and disappear indoors.

Legolas: Well, that was fun.

Frodo: [miserably] But now we have nobody to tell us where we are.

Gandalf: Fear not, my dear Frodo. I suspect that everything shall fall into place very, very soon.

Right on cue, a falling Elf crashes to the deck. Galadriel stands up, looking composed despite the broken bits of deck sticking out of her hair. Her ethereal glow acts as a beacon in the dark.

Sam: Look at that, Mr Frodo. Gandalf finally got something right.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Hey people! I just wanted to say thanks to Becki, who was the one who told me to update this weird little crossover… :P Note that none of these characters are mine no matter how much I wish they were L O well, R&R please!!!